Cowboy Casanova

Saturday 23rd October, 1971

“So, like, did you just never learn?”

Remus shrugged, tired and exhausted. It was just over a week after their flying lesson, and Sirius had managed to catch him on his own again. he had been happily sat on his bed, flipping through one of James’ Quidditch magazines – even if he still didn't understand the rules, he like the moving pictures and it was the closest thing that Hogwarts had to Tv.

“I got taught.” He sighed, turning the page. He hoped Sirius would take this hint and get lost, but he didn’t. Remus closed the magazine. “I was taught,” he repeated, “I never really learned the way I was supposed to. Every time I look at words, they don’t stay still—they twist, shift, and scramble until they make no sense at all. It feels like everyone else sees something different, something clearer, something easy. But I don’t. And instead of understanding, my teachers just called me stupid.”

His mam had never really made much of a fuss about his schoolwork at home. To be honest, he didn’t really have homework, no one did it anyway. A lot of his classmates had some sort of problem; they either couldn’t or wouldn’t pay attention.

“But how have you been managing it?" Sirius was relentless, refusing to let it go of the topic.

“Doing what?”

“Everything! All your work, here, at school.”

Remus looked at him as though he was the stupid one.

“Sirius, in case you haven't noticed, I haven’t been doing my work, I'm in detention every other night.”

“Yea, obviously,” Sirius waved his hand in the air, dismissively, “But the other day, in Potions. I saw you. You didn’t take a single note, didn’t look at the book, nor the blackboard. And yet you still prepared all the ingredients perfectly for the cure for boils – Slughorn even gave you ten points!”

Remus felt his cheeks burn crimson at the thought. He wasn’t used to getting praise from adults.

“Oh, that was easy.” he shook his head, “Slug tol’ us ‘ow to do it in the lesson before, jus’ remembered it.”

“Bloody hell, some memory you have then. Blimey.”

Remus looked away. He guessed that it could be true. His teachers had brought up more than one at various parents’ evenings that for someone so dim-witted, he sure had a surprisingly amount.

Sirius was gazing into the distance now, evidently lost in thought—Remus could almost see the gears turning in his head. At times, Sirius was an enigma, impossible to decipher. Other times, he was so transparent it was almost laughable.

“If you could read, say, you would be as good as me and Jamie. Probably better if I'm quite frank.”

Remus was unable to control the snort of laughter that escaped him,

“Oh, so modest, Black.”

“You would!” Sirius completely missed the sarcasm, that thoughtful look in his eyes. “Your wand work is immaculate and natural. If your memory is as good as you say...” He set his jaw to the left, “I reckon there is a spell for it.”

Remus laughed again,

“Ya gonna cure me with a spell?”

“Why the hell not?”

Remus had given it a though before; of course he had. He was more aware of the preventions of magic than anyone. He bore scars that would never fade and faced a monthly nightmare he could never escape.

“Magic can’t fix everything,” his voice was blunt, “Why else would James wear glasses?”

“I think that there are spells for eyesight, but i think that they’re complicated, dangerous and not worth the effort.” Sirius explained.

“S’not jus’ reading,” Remus countered, my writn’s crap too; I'm slow, and it comes ou’ all scruffy.”

“There’s definitely spells to help with that.” Sirius said, confidently, “You can enchant your quill to write for you —I’ve seen mon père do it on official documents. His handwriting is usually a total mess."

Remus was at a loss for words. Sirius clearly wasn’t giving in. He absentmindedly tapped his fingers.

“Why you so interested anyway?”

“You're one of us, a Marauder! We can't have you stuck in detention all the time—what if the Slytherins decide to retaliate? We’ll need your cunning mind for the next prank." His eyes sparkled mischievously. "By the way, I’m guessing you haven’t even attempted your history homework yet?"

“Nah.”

“Alright then, let’s do it now.” Sirius leapt up from the bed and began to rummage through his trunk.

“Ya not doin’ my ‘omework for me.” Remus protested, standing and folding his arms.

“Too damn right I'm not,” Sirius laughed, pulling out a heavy book. It was ‘A History of Magic’; Remus knew the colour and shape. “ i fancy a memory refresh. So, I'm going to sit here and read aloud – it helps me study – and if you just so happen to retain any information that could possibly help you in that massive brain of yours, then there really isn’t much I can do about that, is there?”

Remus huffed,

“Aint you got owt else you can do? Where's James?”

“He’s watching the Gryffindor quidditch practice,” Sirius placed himself on the covers at the end of Lupin’s bed. “He thinks that he’ll get on the team next year. Peter followed him, obviously. Now, hush, I'm trying to read.” He cleared his throat, then proceeded to read aloud. “A History of Magic. Chapter one, Ancient Egypt; the tights and rituals of imhotep...”

He went on. And on. And on. Remus stood in the middle for a while, debating whether or not he should just walk out and slam the door. But he realised he wasn’t as angry as he thought—staying mad at Sirius was nearly impossible, no matter how frustrating he could be. So, Remus sat down and listened. As it happened, History really wasn’t that bad when you really got into it. It probably helped that Sirius was a great deal more animated than Professor Binns.

His voice was smooth and confident, effortlessly gliding over even the most complex words, as if he'd read the book a hundred times. Remus remembered him casually mentioning to James that he was fluent in Latin and Greek—apparently, the Black family took pride in that sort of thing. There was something about the way he spoke that made it hard not to listen a little too closely.

He ploughed on, chapter after chapter. He read from the gory Egyptian resurrection charms to cryptic Greek oracles, to magical Mesopotamian priestesses. The ancient unfolded in Remus’ mind, and he laid back on his bed, folded his arms behind his head and closed his eyes, allowing Sirius to drift him through time.

Eventually, the other boy's voice grew rough, dropping to a low, breathy whisper. Evening had swallowed them, leaving the common room bathing in a golden glow as the sun set outside the windows. Halfway through ‘Chapter 4; Uric the Oddball’, Sirius released a hoarse cough, and closed the book.

“I don’t think I can read more today,” he said, his voice croaky.

Remus opened his eyes slowly. He sat up, blinking to adjust to the light.

“S’alrigh’”, he said, “S’dinner now anyway.”

They both stood, stretched and began to head downstairs.

James and Peter were already at the table, saving two seats for them.

“How was the Practice?” Sirius asked after downing a goblet of pumpkin juice. His voice was only slightly croaky now.

“Brilliant.” James said cheerfully, stabbing a sausage on the end of his fork and using it to shovel mash up. “Why didn’t you come with?”

“Had homework.” Sirius responded drowning his own mash in gravy.

As they finished their dinner, entertained them with a play-by-play account of the practice. He listed every player, their strengths, weaknesses, techniques, improvements he would make. Peter also interrupted with his own opinions, which didn’t steer much away from James’.

Pudding was millionaires shortbread, which was Remus’ favourite, and neither Sirius nor James liked it. In Remus’ mind, this is probably as worse a crime as assault. he would have had theirs too, if Peter didn’t swipe it first, devouring the lot.

Noticing the dead-eye Remus shot at him, Peter quickly squeaked, “I’ve got sweets.” he rummaged through his pocket and retrieved a large brown paper bag. “Mum sent them this morning.”

“Thanks Pete!” they tucked in, working their way through the fizzing whizzbees, chocolate frogs and gob stoppers. Remus helped himself to a couple, until they all felt quite sick.

“So? What homework were you doing?” James asked, only half paying attention, too busy scratching his chin. “I thought we finished the homework for this week, didn’t we?”

“Oh, yeah. We did, but i was a bit behind on history, so i had to check something.” Sirius was scratching too, on his collar bone.

Watching them made Remus feel an uncomfortable prickling sensation. The back of his hand tingled, as though a tiny insect was skittering across his skin. The thought of itching powder flickered through his mind, and he glanced down instinctively.

He could have screamed. On the back of his hand, there was thick dark curls polluted his hands at an extremely alarming rate. Was he transforming? It wasn’t near a full moon though – how could this be happening? He jumped from the table so suddenly; he nearly fell backwards over his chair. He had to leave – fast!

“What’s wrong Lupin?” James looked startled, staring up at him.

Remus glanced at him, then at Sirius. Both of them were sprouting thick, dark curls across their faces, arms, and every patch of exposed skin. His breath caught in his throat as he stared, speechless. He ran his tongue over his teeth—they felt the same. No fangs.

“Oh,Good Lord!..” James gasped, looking down at his own hands, then over at Sirius and Remus. “What the hell is going off?!”

“Peter!” Sirius barked across the table; every inch of his face was now nearly engulfed in thick fur. “Are you absolutely sure that those were from your mother?”

Peter hadn’t eaten any yet and was staring, horrified between the three others.

“W- Well... I thought they were from her... they came in the post this morning..."

“Good god, Pete!” James cried. People were now starting to notice, turning to their friends, whispering and laughing. Soon enough, the whole hall was looking at the three immensely hairy boys at the Gryffindor table.

More people were giggling than weren’t, but obviously nobody was laughing louder than Snape, across at the Slytherin table.

“Come on,” Sirius stood, lifting his furry snout with an air of regal dignity so exaggerated it was almost comical, “Let's go up to the hospital wing. We can plan our revenge later.”

The retreated from the hall to the overwhelming howls of laughter that was made worse as they echoed from wall to wall around the chamber. Remus groaned in embarrassment, burying his face in his hands. His entire body was now coated in the same sleek black fur. Unlike James and Sirius, he failed to see the humour in it.

“I told you they would retaliate,” Sirius muttered under his breath.