We'll Be Alright

James' kitten Steven doesn't like anyone but Romulus.

Apparently he tolerates James' mother but the line draws there. Remus can't exactly blame the tiny thing for holding a grudge against James' father for naming him something as ridiculous and ill-fitting for a cat as Steven, but what he can blame is being excluded from the little thing's shortlist.

Steven will sit on Romulus' lap, sleep on Romulus' pillow, scratch up Romulus' trunk (actually, Remus isn't very mad about that but he has a feeling that their parents might) and will let Romulus and only Romulus hold him. Anyone else- including James- he'll claw at until left alone. On good days, he'll allow a pet or two in passing.

Remus has tried to psych Steven out more than once. He didn't think it'd be too difficult seeing as he was the identical twin to the only person he lets pet him. It was, in fact, quite difficult- they'd been here a week and a half and Steven is still yet to come anywhere near Remus willing.

He can't help but be a little impressed that a seven week old kitten could tell the difference between him and his brother. Not even the teachers had gotten a hang of it yet although Remus also can't help but think it's their fault for letting that chatty hat put them in the same house and therefore the same clothes every single day. There isn't much room for individuality in school uniforms.

Also also, he can't help but feel offended that he'd become such fast friends with James and yet he doesn't even get the benefit of petting a cute cat as a reward for his owner's craziness.

How is it that something with such little space in its skull to house a brain be able to differentiate so well? Remus has been racking his own brain for an answer, the only logical one being that Romulus can speak kitten and is using his unbeknownst powers to teach Steven to tell the twins apart. This is what Remus talks about at breakfast at the beginning of their second full week at school.

They're eating donuts for breakfast because Peter's dad sent them over- what were they going to do? Let them go stale? They're kids whose parents aren't around, of course they're going to eat donuts and only donuts for breakfast if given the opportunity.

They're Polish donuts that Peter says are from the shop next to his dad's house. His parents are divorced and have been since he was really young so he hasn't known them to be any different. Peter says they're alright with each other though and that before coming to Hogwarts, he got to go to Poland every weekend to stay at his dad's which Remus thinks makes up for it. These donuts make up for it.

“I don't know.” Sirius says, a ring of icing sugar around his mouth. “I can definitely tell you two apart.”

Remus looks up and makes an odd face. Not him too. Not so soon, at least. He'd have liked another few months of security in his and Romulus' similarity before people began getting used to them and telling them apart.

“How?”

Sirius points at Romulus with half a donut still in his hand. A dollop of jam falls from its centre and onto the tablecloth. “He has more freckles.” He waves his finger in a few circles and reels back his hand for another bite of his donut.

They all look at Romulus who is looking at Remus. They squint their eyes at each other. Remus doesn't know what he's doing- trying to count his freckles? Has Sirius done that? Remus tries to remember the last time he looked in a mirror and compares his freckles to Romulus'.

“Right and which one am I?” Romulus sneers with a grin, figuring he's caught Sirius now. Remus thinks he might want people's inability to tell the difference between them to go on for a little longer as well.

“Romulus.” Sirius flatly says. Remus feels both his and Romulus' shoulders slump.

“You've also got deeper dimples.”

“Maybe I'm just smiling harder.”

“I'm still right, aren't I?”

Sirius proudly takes a last bite of his donut.

Is that really how their parents have recognised them all this time? Remus would have hoped for something a little more exciting than Romulus having more freckles and dimples than him.

“What about me?” Remus pipes up. “Do I have anything that he doesn't?” Sirius nods and leans back in. “You-” He stops himself.

Sirius is a big drama queen. It took Remus all of two days of knowing the boy to also know that this is the case.

He says he wants to be an actor when he grows up-

SIRIUS “THE DOG STAR” BLACK- MOVIE STAR!

-Remus thinks it would suit him well.

Sirius holds suspenses like these in most conversations so he clearly has a flair for the dramatic. Remus can say that he doesn't like the suspense he brings to the table but he'd be lying if he said it wasn't effective.

“What? What do I have?”

Sirius shakes his head. “I was going to say bigger ears but that seems mean.”

Well he's just gone and said it, hasn't he?

The group all snicker and Remus goes around kicking the lot of them under the table, stifling the urge to reach up and feel his ears. Are they really big?

“I don't mean it in a mean way.” Sirius reassures him, lifting his foot up to the bench to rub his shin. “You did ask.”

Romulus nudges Remus to look at him only to get a whack over his head when Remus sees him comically wiggling his ears with his fingers behind them.

The donuts are gone by now and Peter scribbles down a little thank you letter to send back with the owl to his dad. Remus looks over out of curiosity and Peter doesn't try to hide the letter’s contents like the others do; it's in Polish and could be plotting their deaths for all Remus knows.

Peter points out some words to him, saying this means friends, that means donuts, and tells him how letters with certain accents are pronounced. All this goes in one apparently-large ear and out the other for Remus and the only words he can retain are the bad ones that Peter taught them on the first evening.

Peter lives with his mum in Oxford when he's not in Poland but she's from there too so that's all he really speaks. He has an accent sometimes, over some words in particular, although Remus really can't say much- he and Romulus have only ever known the arse end of Wales and that's exactly what they sound like.

Hope and Lyall aren't like Peter's parents; they only know a little Welsh so they only speak a little Welsh when they want to tell each other things without the twins overhearing. The basics of a Muggle primary school taught them both enough for a simple conversation so that's what they share almost everyday, even if they are stuck talking about the same thing over and over again. They talk for the sake of talking in a language no one else knows but Remus regrets telling the others what language that is because saying they made up a language seems a whole lot cooler.

Students begin to filter out of the Great Hall for the first class of the day. Sirius is the first of the boys to get up but doesn't walk away. Instead, he stands in the middle of the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, making people flow around him like a stream.

See? Dramatic.

“Someone come with me, I want to-”

And it isn't himself that cuts Sirius' sentence short this time but the sudden explosion of red all over the table.

Remus yelps loudly in sudden fright and covers his mouth in embarrassment. When he hears others do the same, he feels better.

Others.

Everywhere.

Through the gooey substance, he sees the entire first year end of the table covered in it as well. Romulus is wiping it out of his eyes, James is licking it…

It's jam.

It’s so much jam.

At least it's strawberry.

He looks at Peter as if it was him who- Remus doesn't know- decided to burst a hidden, jumbo donut over them all. But Peter has his hand over his heart and is laughing nervously. Sirius, conveniently, is the only one out of the way and untouched.

Ew.

Ew, ew, ew. It's slimy and gross and Remus only just had a shower last night.

There's hysterical laughter from the far end of the Hall, from the Slytherin table who all have their heads turned to the sticky first years. Then the rest of the Hall begins to laugh and Remus is flushed a furious red that he's thankful for the strawberry spread for concealing.

Minerva McGonagall is striding over in seconds and with a few swooshes of her wand in the air, the jam is gone and condensed into just one small jar on the table. Romulus straightens his posture and everyone sighs in relief but Remus can still feel how sticky his skin is and he can smell fruit off of his robes.

“Head to your classes now everybody, no need to dwell!” Calls McGonagall and that's exactly what everyone does, petrified of her more than anyone else on the staff.

Sirius laughs at them as they slip through the crowds for class. He brags as he runs his hand through his clean hair and skips about while Remus clenches his sticky fists as he walks. His gummed fingers have to be pried away from each other and his hair feels like straw- Remus is getting agitated.

If Lyall were here, he'd have been properly cleaned up, and he'd have scared Sirius into being quiet probably for the rest of the week.

He was alright with Remus and Romulus befriending the Sirius Black; he actually knew roughly who he was already which Remus found odd. Lyall agreed with him, writing back the next day to tell the boys that they shouldn't hold the poor Gryffindor boy to what could have been because any one of them could have been put in Slytherin- it's nothing to be mad about. Remus had the Hat on his head longer than the others did, is that grounds for judgement because it had to do more deliberation on him? God, he's getting really agitated.

Remus clears his throat and the others turn to him. “I'm going to the dorm, I need to change.”

“We all do, mate, but we've got class-”

“I'll come with you!” Sirius sings. “I need to go to the dorm anyway, that's what I was saying before you lot got jammed all over.” He turns and walks towards Remus. “Tell Burbage we'll be late.” And they begin the hike back up to Gryffindor tower.

Deirdre Burbage is Remus' favourite teacher because she teaches Muggle Studies: his favourite subject. Everyone despises it but that's okay because Remus can like it enough for the whole school if he really has to.

Deirdre loves him. Like with any teacher he's ever come across, Remus brought up the Romans the first chance he got. A little conversation broke out between the two of them for a few minutes before the class had to be resumed and the boys all told him after that she- a woman in her thirties- looked like she had fallen in love with him- an eleven year old boy. Remus gagged at it instantly because she looks and acts too much like his mother for him for talk like that.

Sitting through her brilliant class doesn't sound as enjoyable if he'll have to do it all fidgety and squelching though. Deirdre won't mind if he's late, Sirius too if they'll be arriving at the same time- Remus really likes being a favourite.

He and Sirius walk for a little while against the current of students. Then they walk faster, and faster, and faster until there's enough space to run and then they really start to run. As they make their way up the floors, Remus hopes for another set of stairs to come sweeping Sirius away and out of first place but it never does. He beats Remus to the fat lady's painting, reaching out to hit the frame and declaring his victory in the unspoken race.

“Password?” The fat lady asks immediately. There's a man behind her and she turns to cup her hands over his ears so that he won't hear. What, would paintings go spreading passwords around to students? Would they listen in on gossip and spread that too? Do paintings have gossip?

Sirius speaks first because Remus is still catching his breath a little. “You recognise us, don't you? Why do you need a password to let us in?”

Remus, although he can never remember them, likes the password system. It's frustrating sometimes but he likes having the knowledge of the power a word can have while three quarters of the school doesn't. It's like a secret; it's like speaking Welsh.

Only Sirius Black can manage to start a circular argument with a painting. He's incredibly good at bickering and in more than one sense, he reminds Remus thoroughly of himself and Romulus. Sirius hasn't talked much about his family just yet but Remus wouldn't be at all surprised if he told him he had a sibling too.

“Christ, Sirius, stop arguing, would you!”

Remus needs to remember to stop saying ‘Christ’ so much at school, not because he too-often uses it as a replacement for… a series of other words, or because of religious values here. No, it's because there's a surprising amount of people that don't know what religion is, Sirius included.

It's Slytherins mostly who don't know because apparently pure blood status tends to make some people think they're God already. Sirius hadn't heard of Christianity or anything because of this and Remus guiltily had to take a minute to question Sirius' parents just a little when he had to explain that Christ isn't a Welsh word.

The Lupins aren't religious- made painfully evident when Sirius asked Remus to explain all religions- but not to that extent. Remus felt bad for Sirius for a few hours until he spilled ink all over his bedsheets and it was right back to normal.

“Maverick.” Remus tells the fat lady and she scoffs at him.

“That was last week's password, there's a new one. They'd have told you this morning.” She crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow at Remus who is taken aback. It's Monday morning. It's only been eight hours since the last password was usable. Remus could feel his opinions shift and the fondness of a password fading away just a little. The man behind the fat lady leaves, probably sick of this too.

“If we know last week’s and you let us in then, why not let us in now?” Sirius points out.

“No password, no entry.”

Remus can feel the urge to start his own wave of endless bickering creeping up on him because they're late enough to class as it is (it's not set to start for another five minutes) but Sirius pats his back and steps forward.

“Charisma.” He sighs, exasperated, and the portrait swings open without a word from the fat lady. He walks into the common room first and Remus wants to kick the backs of his knees.

“You knew it after all that?” He calls after him and Sirius just turns his head and offers an innocent little shrug.

Steven is running about when Remus and Sirius enter their dorm. Remus kneels down and extends his hand towards the kitten who gives his scented hand a quick sniff and sprints off again. He can't say he blames Steven this time considering he almost sat on the poor thing last night, his soft ginger fur being too similar in colour with the cast that the common room fireplace puts on the leather furniture.

He stands back up and goes for fresh robes that hang from the top of his bed on coat hangers while Sirius goes for his trunk and takes out a thin notebook- what he must have needed to come up here for.

“I didn't mean to say your ears are big.” Sirius says apologetically. “Romulus' ears are small.”

Remus laughs at that and shakes his head. Sirius looked mighty stressed up until then and watching his face fall back to relief then amusement made it all the while funnier.

“I didn't actually take any offence, Sirius, you can calm down.” Although Sirius is already back to grinning wildly. He has remarkable teeth, that boy.

“Other than that, you're completely identical. A little crazy to look at, I have to say.”

Remus smiles and shrugs off his robes, leaving him in the plain t-shirt and trousers he has on underneath which seem to be untouched and clean.

Out of the dorm, Remus heads for the bathroom with Sirius following. He's only going in to wash his face and clean out his hair so Remus doesn't protest.

The bathroom is small and designated for the first year boys. There's bigger bathrooms downstairs for the whole school but Remus, for some wild reason, is reluctant to go anywhere near those. Prefects get their own special bathrooms according to someone Remus spoke to with an older sister as a prefect. The kitchens are top on the rest of the boys’ to-find list while the fancy prefect bathrooms are on the top of Remus'.

He leans into one of the sinks and wets his hair, washing his hands in the process too. Besides from the loud water rushing over his ears, the room is silent.

“Do you have siblings?” Remus asks Sirius. He stops the water and wrings out his hair, still leaning into the marble bowl.

“Yeah, I've got a younger brother at home.”

Aha!

Remus isn't sure why but he'd have thought Sirius would have been the younger brother. Well, maybe because of his constant eccentricness and childish behaviour (granted, Sirius is eleven). Caringly as Sirius is Remus' friend, he dares to think about how the younger Black brother will turn out with Sirius as a role model. Caringly, Remus promises.

“How come you haven't said yet?”

They make eye contact in the mirror which Sirius quickly breaks, going back to looking a little nervous. Oh, Remus didn't mean to cause that.

“Dunno,” Sirius mumbles. “It just seemed irrelevant ‘cause you're never going to get to talk to him since we're in Gryffindor and he won't be.” “How old is he?” “Ten. Joining next year.”

Next year. Christ, Remus can't imagine Romulus joining a whole year after him. Not seeing his brother for a whole year. He'd be sprinting full speed home if he were Sirius right now.

“You never know- he might be put in Gryffindor too. You managed it.” Remus tries to reassure Sirius. Thinking back to Sirius' fit during the first feast though, Gryffindor doesn't seem to be an attractive place to be in to the Black family.

“What's his name?”

“Regulus.”

“Is that a star too?”

“Yeah.”

“That's nice, you match.” Remus puts his head back in the water, his hair still feeling like straw. He bets it tastes nice though.

“I prefer Remus and Romulus though. I liked the story of your names, by the way.” Sirius tells him. Remus smiles from ear to ear at that although a little disappointed that Sirius can't see how happy that made him.

“Oh good,” He calmly says. “I thought I bored you to death with that one.” “No!” No? That might just have made Remus' week. “No, it was interesting and new, y’know? I wouldn't have learned about all that without you so thanks, I suppose.”

Remus wants to be a teacher. He wants to be a teacher so bad and it's all Sirius' fault. And Lyall's just a little bit. And Deirdre's.

“It's taught in Muggle Studies. Pretty soon as well, I think.”

Remus knows for a fact that it'll be taught soon because Remus asked the first chance he got. It's not for a few weeks and not ever will Remus admit that he knows this, inquired about this, and is disappointed by this- far too embarrassing.

Sirius scoffs and Remus can practically hear his rolling eyes in his voice. “You know I don't pay attention in that soddy class. Can't wait to drop it for third year.” “C'mon, Sirius, you just said it was interesting.” Remus whines, standing up again now that he was satisfied with his hair. Water drips down his neck and back and he uses the excess that got on his face to rub away the stickiness. Finally, he turns and he and Sirius look at each other as they talk.

“Not when I've got homework to do for it.” Sirius continues. “I'd much rather you just tell me about it than have to do work.”

“You do know you're going to have homework for your other classes too, right? And I'm not going to read through the textbooks for you at bedtime.”

“And I couldn't take Muggle Studies even if I wanted to, my parents would die if they found out.”

Sirius looks a certain way that makes him seem tempted to take the class for such a result.

“I don't mean to be rude,” Remus says cautiously. “But your parents seem a little weird.”

Here is what Remus has gotten out of Sirius about his family: they're quite old-fashioned, they take their last name much too literally and all anyone ever wears is black, their house is invisible to anyone that doesn't summon it so he can't even have friends on the road, and they're “batshit crazy” about status. Remus isn't altogether sure what that last one means but he can gather from Sirius' language that he has a lot of pent-up stuff in his head.

Remus chooses to not to believe the rumours going around about the Black family but he keeps them in mind just to think about sometimes. Most of them are so unrealistic that they make Remus laugh.

Sirius raises his eyebrows and grins again as he rocks back and forth on the heel and the balls of his feet. “I don't take offence, Remus, don't worry.”

Remus was aiming his apologies towards Sirius' family rather than Sirius himself, figuring he isn't one for taking offence with a cocky smile like that.

“And that's the least of what I deserve after calling your ears big in front of everyone.”

He darts forward and whips a towel off its rack and throws it at the back of Remus' head. Remus sees it coming in the mirror ahead but lets it hit him anyway so he can first, shake at least a little water from his hair and second, chuck it full force right back at Sirius so he can grab another.

The towels are used as ineffective whips for a minute before Remus discards his someplace or another and runs out the door. Sirius isn't as fast and Remus is out before he is, trapping Sirius in and holding the door shut.

Remus can imagine the fuss that'd be kicked up if he broke the handle off so he abandons it and runs into the dorm for his robes.

Sirius comes in not a second later, grabbing his own things and following Remus down the stairs and out into the staircases. He stays just a few yards behind Remus the entire way to Muggle Studies across on the other side of the castle. For a minute, Remus forgets who he's running with and almost calls Romulus' name in his taunts.

They reach the classroom door panting furiously. Remus' hair is still sopping wet and his face must be as red as Sirius' which is really red. At least they'll look like they tried to get to class on time.

As he suspected, Deirdre Burbage doesn't mind that they’re late. She lets them sit without a bother and Remus feels the eyes of thirty sticky first years looking at his washed hair with envy.

Remus takes his seat next to Romulus. Actually, he takes Romulus' seat from the last lesson while Romulus sits in his. They do this in every class whether they be sitting side by side or across the classroom. No one- probably excluding Sirius- has ever noticed a change.

Deirdre isn't talking about anything that immediately catches Remus' attention so admittedly, he zones out a little although he easily stays the most focussed person in the class.

It passes by undisturbed, most being too tired and/or bored to start anything, or feel too guilty to start anything that'd disrupt such a nice woman.

Romulus talks to Remus a little who responds with just as much. He snickers into his collar whenever Deirdre calls on him for an answer or comment, even harder when it's Remus who volunteers himself with the fast raise of his hand. Remus doesn't mind the slander because he knows the answer and Romulus doesn't.

The hour and a half (the hour and fifteen minutes for Remus and Sirius) flies by as unfortunately quick as it always does and yet as slow as always for everyone else. They scatter out of the class to get outside and to the edge of the Forbidden Forest where Care Of Magical Creatures is held- Romulus' favourite subject.

Whoever designed this timetable is simply stupid in Remus' books because it's too cold and too early to be traipsing about with magical creatures. Today's one doesn't even exist. It's “invisible” according to Professor Kettleburn, only able to be seen by those who have witnessed death.

This is ridiculous, in Remus' opinion, because what eleven year old has witnessed death? He doubts anyone in this class has and yet they all watch in bewilderment as Kettleburn strokes the air lovingly.

“Fascinating, isn't it?” Romulus whispers, leaning into Remus. “How the magic works and all. What do you think tells Thestrals that you've seen death? Maybe there's like an aura or something?”

“Kettleburn is a blithering idiot.”

Someone in front must have heard Remus because they snort and vainly cough into their elbow.

Romulus hits his arm hard and a loud thump! sounds out in the courtyard. One or two heads turn but Kettleburn keeps his attention to the void space ahead of him, adoration flooding his eyes.

“Hey! You don't see me insulting your precious Mrs. Burbage, do you?” Romulus snaps under his breath. He gives Remus the satisfaction of an angered look before returning his attention to the class.

“There's nothing there, he's clearly just run out of ideas.” Remus says, hitting Romulus back. “He's petting and fawning over something he knows no one can see, therefore he is an idiot.”

“How do you know no one can see? Maybe there's someone who's seen death-”

“We're all eleven, Romulus.”

“That's over a decade of opportunity to see something like that. Just because you can't see it doesn't mean it's not real, y’know.”

“Boys?” Kettleburn calls into the crowd. “Can we stop talking, please?”

More than a few heads turn this time and the boys go red. Romulus silently pinches the back of Remus' arm which Remus agrees is warranted because he'd do ten times worse if this happened in Muggle Studies.

Still, Remus has to clench his jaw to not laugh at this. He looks to his left to see the other boys either biting their lips or their knuckles to stifle a laugh of their own.

“Do you not believe..?” Kettleburn starts, trailing off to weigh out the odds of getting the twins’ names right. He settles on, “Mr. Lupin?” which Remus can't help but think is smart. For a blithering idiot, that is.

“Remus.” He corrects and Kettleburn clicks his tongue and nods. “Remus, apologies.”

Remus scoffs and Romulus pinches him again and again, it's warranted. He'll stop it in a bit.

“Are you skeptical of Thestrals?”

“Only because I can't see them, sir, I'm sure there is really one there.”

He didn't mean to make it sound as sarcastic as it did. Remus isn't a sarcastic person. He isn't like Sirius who will argue with anyone willing to argue back, or James who refuses to speak anything but his mind. But this one guy has been getting on Remus' nerves since the beginning and coincidentally teaches the only class that Romulus won't talk to him non-stop in.

Kettleburn brings his hand forward and wiggles his fingers and Remus thinks he's actually asking him to come hold his hand for a second.

“Come up, boy, you can touch her.” He pats the air beside him. Remus' blush rises again because he knows he's going to have to go up from the way the class separates around him and a path up to Kettleburn forms. He looks to Romulus who is obviously bubbling over with jealousy. With his eyes, he tells James and Sirius to cause a scene so that there'll be enough distraction for the twins to swap places. He gives them a few seconds but no, they do not do as they're willed.

Kettleburn laughs at the top of the aisle that's been created. “No need to be scared, Remus. Their reputation may be awry because of the deathly way about them, but they really are very gentle creatures.”

One of the boys pushes him between his shoulder blades and he's made to walk up through the class, literally the centre of attention- he doesn't know how Sirius does it all the time.

Remus takes slow, short steps and Kettleburn continues to amusedly chuckle at his trepidation which Remus is not amused by. Maybe the death that Kettleburn has witnessed is the brutal beheading of Remus' ego.

What- is he going to whisper for him to just go along with it when he gets up there? Yes Mr. Lupin, caress the air and call it a good girl, go on now. He doesn't understand how anyone is expecting him to take this class for longer than he has to.

Remus reaches the top of the courtyard faster than he wants to and a short round of applause rings out soon after, likely started by one of his friends.

“Your hand, Remus, thank you.” Says Kettleburn, taking Remus by the wrist and bringing him a little forward. He squints subtly in front of him because maybe- if Kettleburn isn't full of… you know (except he is)- there is an aura like Romulus said, only around the Thestral itself instead.

But the air is barren. Remus can't hear the breathing of the animal, can't see the tracks that its hooves may have left, can't understand why a creature of death can make Kettleburn so astounded.

He resists a little as his hand is guided away and snaps it back when his fingers touch something that isn't there.

Kettleburn laughs. Again. Remus is really growing sick of it.

He brings his hand forward out of his own accord this time and the thin, leathery flesh he feels on his palm seems too real to be a placebo effect.

“How’s that?”

It feels wet. The skin itself is dry but the way it so loosely moves makes Remus feel like he's treading shallow water.

The Thestral is a bony creature and Remus doesn't think Kettleburn is doing a great job at caring for it, being this slender from what Remus can feel. There's raised ridges under his palm; veins probably but he feels no pulse. He feels no expansion of a breath and no warmth radiating off it.

Unsettling, to answer the professor’s question. Unpleasant and unsettling.

Remus retracts his hand and his skepticism and Kettleburn pats his back.

“Quite real, I think you'll all find.” He announces to the class as Remus all but runs back to the back of the crowd to his friends. He goes to Romulus first, who still looks enraged, and wipes the hand he touched the thestral with on the sleeve of his robes. The others take turns poking fun at him for all of the preceding five minutes while Romulus begins his silent treatment.

Class goes on slowly and Remus doesn't bother with trying to get Romulus to talk. He's been on either end of this payback countless times and he knows that the best thing he can do to weaken the barrier that Romulus has put up between them is to not be the first one to speak no matter what. They will communicate through people until Romulus decides to talk again- that’s just how it works.

Mum, can you tell Remus to flatten his ridiculous hair unless he wants to look like he's been electrocuted?

Dad, can you tell Romulus to close his big fat mouth when he's eating?

Someone tell Remus he isn't as smart as he thinks he is!

Someone tell Romulus to die already!

Kettleburn lets everyone leave class early as it's break next but Remus and Sirius are the only first years on the Gryffindor table. Remus is glad he cut into his Muggle Studies time to wash because trying to get cleaned up now with a couple dozen different boys climbing all over the place is not where he wants to spend his meal time.

Remus doesn't talk to Sirius all during break and Sirius doesn't talk to him either. He doesn't mean to be so quiet but he's so devastatingly on edge about being pranked again. The Slytherin first years that Remus thinks are responsible for the attack spend the entire meal looking and laughing at the two sitting alone with their wands on the table. Remus doesn't know a single spell to defend himself against a flood of jam but the reassurance of the wand so easily accessible calms his nerves just a little.

With five minutes left, James, Romulus and Peter come running into the Great Hall and take their seats all on the bench that faces the Slytherin table, also taking their wands out to have by their plates.

The break feeds no one well so they head to Transfiguration with a sandwich each to eat along the way.

The corridors are packed and Remus was only half-right about the peril he thought he'd be in because of his height disadvantage. Sure, he's gotten elbowed in the back on the head more times than he'd have liked and yes, he can’t see two feet in front of him during the post-meal traffic but it's quite easy to manoeuvre under around the hoard’s limbs, and quite amusing too when he sees the awkwardly tall older boys have to give way to everyone for fear of sending their knees into people’s noses.

Remus walks behind the rest of the boys who have a better sense of direction than he does. Being at the back just behind Romulus gives him a clear view of how someone older knocks into his shoulder and sends his sandwich flying to the ground. He makes a disgruntled groan and snaps his head to whoever it was that cost him his sandwich but they’ve walked past already and don't look back.

Romulus huffs and angrily jogs to catch up with the others. Remus jogs too and splits his sandwich jaggedly in half (realistically, it's more of a 30/70 division). He nudges Romulus’ arm and rolls his eyes at his gaze that hardens when Romulus realises that Remus is daring to interact with him. Still, he wordlessly takes the bigger portion of the sandwich that Remus holds out to him.

Peter's robes are on back to front, Romulus’ hair is absolutely sopping wet and James forgot his glasses in the dorm; the rest of the line outside of Professor McGonagall’s classroom is just as disorganised.

“How did you manage to forget your glasses? How did you manage not to notice until now?” Remus pesters James as he pats himself down another few times, hoping he's just put them somewhere inconvenient.

“We've all been running around so much, I haven't gotten the time to notice I can't see anything.”

“That's absurd, James.”

“I've been wearing glasses since I was three, Remus, being blind isn't all that weird of a thing when you get used to it.”

He gives up and holds onto Remus' sleeve as the line moves up and into the classroom.

McGonagall is sitting still by the door in her cat animagus form and students gawk at her as if she won't be their professor in a few minutes. Remus thinks of Steven and all the pets that he's been disallowed, and if McGonagall would let him scratch her head. Would she let anyone do that? The staff maybe? If he wasn't being so cautious not to step on her and to lead James to do the same, he's have laughed at himself.

Everyone takes their seats- Remus and Romulus on opposite ends of the room and both sitting next to girls they haven't talked to before, Peter behind Remus in a similar partnership, James as far back from the front as one can be and sitting alone, and Sirius as close to the front as one can be, also alone.

McGonagall gets a few woah’s when she reverts back to her stern, human self. It's an odd thing to witness: a little cat shifting into a six foot tall woman, and Remus can't help but feel a little queasy at the thought of anyone's bones having to shrink and grow to that extent. Why anyone would want to be an animagus is beyond him, as impressive as it may be.

She flicks her wand over her shoulder and a piece of chalk from her desk picks itself up and begins to write on the board behind her:

RODENTS TO GLASSWARE

“Professor!”

It's James. Already.

For someone who enjoys this class so much, he sure does interrupt it a lot. Call it participation.

“Professor, I don't have my glasses, can I move closer to the front?” James calls at the poor woman. It's too early in the lesson and in the day for this, is what her face says.

She makes a gesture to a boy who sits a few desks in front of Remus. His head darts up from the page he's doodling on and Remus almost feels sorry for him. No, he does feel sorry for him with his obviously low confidence and/or self-esteem and his unfortunate name-

“You may sit next to Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Potter.” McGonagall sighs and there's a ripple of hushed giggles around the class. Longbottom dips his head back into focus on his drawing. Remus makes a mental note to formally introduce him to Romulus at some point or another.

James makes an iffy sound. “Professor, I'm completely blind, can I sit even closer?”

Remus can tell where this is going by the way Sirius whirls around in his chair to look at James with a beaming grin.

“Next to Mr. Black, perchance, I've noticed that he sits alone.” There's a new ripple of giggles.

“You may leave to get your glasses if you're completely blind.” McGonagall counters. She's quite like James in the way she bickers with him so often although Remus is convinced that that's the last thing she ever wants to hear. He wonders what she was like back in school.

Like Sirius, Remus turns in his chair to look at James. He's squinting, either to convince McGonagall of his impairment or because he's really trying to think of a way out of her suggestion.

“I'm moderately blind, Professor.” He eventually lands on. “Being at the front would help a great deal with the strain on my eyes. And we promise to be respectful and quiet, don't we Mr. Black?”

Sirius takes in a breath. “Yes, good sir.” And he does this again before turning to McGonagall. She butts in before he can get started too.

“Alright! Go on, Potter, do what you want.”

James scurries up the rows of tables to Sirius who is practically writhing in his seat and only gets more worked up once James has settled in next to him.

They're the exact same person. They bounce off each other with the same thoughts and same processes that leaves them in a stupid idea surrounded by a sea of more stupid ideas. Neither of them ever just stop (Remus doesn't think they're capable of it) and they never stop never stopping which they both seem to be alright with.

James is an only child. He says his parents are very young and even though he's always wanted one, he probably won't be getting a sibling- caringly (again), Remus doesn't think he'd want more than one James Potter running around either- which makes sense as to why he's latched onto Sirius and made him out to be blood so soon. Now that he knows Sirius has a brother, Remus wonders why he's latched onto James just as desperately. Misses his brother, probably.

The class passes slowly this time with James and Sirius sitting together. It takes ten minutes for them to be told off, and another ten to be separated again when James skips ahead in the lesson and transfigures his rat into a large metal bucket which Sirius puts on his head. He may be an idiot, but James Potter is smart.

The bucket's handle gets caught under Sirius' chin and for a minute or two, it's stuck. Other students- absolutely including Remus- take the liberty of getting up and crowding around the boys and McGonagall who is trying to manoeuvre the bucket around Sirius' head and trying to stretch the metal handle over his chin and asking him how he even got it on in the first place.

The crowd is buzzing and laughing and Remus manages to squeeze through to get close enough to hit his wand a few times against the bucket. Sirius yelps, McGonagall shouts and James is doubled over in a giggle fit.

Probably wondering why she went into teaching and why she hadn't thought of this before, McGonagall takes out her wand and enlarges the bucket so it can come off Sirius' head, and casts it back into a slightly larger rat. A few students who were given budgies to transfigure- absolutely including Remus- squeal and rush to get away from the rodent.

In the mild pandemonium, there's a tap on his shoulder and Remus spins to see Peter standing a little nervously.

“Romulus said… said to tell you thank you for the sandwich and-”

Poor Peter struggles for the words and Remus waits for him to remember his lines. He scans the room for Romulus who exchanges him a dirty look for a dirty look. Peter glaces to Romulus too and then back at Remus.

“And he says- not me, by the way. I don't mean it. I'm just the messenger, y’know? Don't shoot the messenger. I didn't want-”

“Blimey, Peter, what does he say?”

“He says thank you for the sandwich- the bigger part of the sandwich- and he's glad that you're finally stopping stuffing your face all the time.”

Remus won't shoot the petrified messenger- Peter is taller and bigger than him and Remus isn't so sure what he's so scared of- but he'll gladly shoot Romulus with a nasty glare.

Romulus has turned around now so the glare doesn't hit anything but his back. Remus will go and hit his back. Then his face.

“You know what, Pete?” Remus seethes. “You tell Romulus he's an ungrateful dodger and I don't know what I did to deserve to share a face with him.”

Peter whimpers. “Do you want to just write a note? And I'll deliver that-”

“No, Pete! That's not how it works!” Remus snaps. He didn't need Peter to tell him he was also an only child to know this beforehand. “Just go tell him!”

“Everybody sit!” McGonagall shouts over the class and everyone does indeed sit. She eyes James dangerously as he returns to his original seat and eyes Sirius with just as much ferocity as he watches him go.

Peter sits and Romulus doesn't get his very important message. Remus is actually tempted now to write a note and send it flying at his brother just to get it out there.

The rest of the class- not even half of it has elapsed yet and Remus already feels like he's aged enough to be graduating- goes by faster as it's spent much more quietly. Remus gets his budgie to turn into a glass after a few minutes of calm stillness and after McGonagall came around to see his progress, he turned the poor bird back and petted it until it was time to leave.

Peter finds him again in the crowd that forms to get out of the classroom.

“Um…” He starts, just as nervous as earlier. “Remus said to tell you that-”

“Peter, I'm Remus.”

And he goes this furious shade of red that Remus can't help but snort a little at. Peter is much too hard on himself because he covers his face in his hands and groans.

“I'm so sorry but please start wearing name tags.”

James and Sirius' messing about bleeds into Charms where Sirius is the first to levitate his respective feather and casts it over to sit lightly on James' head. He manages another two before James notices and tries to send his own feather back but can't get it up and off the table until the very end of class. He sits again on the opposite end of the room from Sirius so Remus doesn't think that James is able to see where Sirius even is and could not send a feather in his general direction even if he could.

Once out, they try to levitate each other and again, Sirius is the only successful one as he gets James a few centimetres off the ground for about five seconds.

Remus and Romulus argue via Peter throughout all of lunch and the poor boy once again doesn't get to have a proper meal.

Remus isn't quite sure what they're arguing about, or if they are at all anymore because most of what they're getting Peter to tell the other is just plain and simple insults. He can tell quite clearly how entertaining this is for James and Sirius by the look on their faces as they dart back and forth between the twins, but Remus doesn't want this to be entertaining- he wants to win.

“Peter- tell Romulus he's being an idiot and he needs to give up.” Remus drones, boredly eating a spoonful of eggs. He purposely chews with his mouth wide open as well, just to see Romulus wince.

“Tell Remus that he needs to finish what he started.” Romulus sneers. “And that I'm not the idiot here.” “Tell Romulus I didn't start anything and it's not my fault I got picked over him because I'm better.”

Remus wishes that it was Romulus who had to go touch whatever that was. Sure, maybe it was real in the end but Remus could have found that out without the embarrassment and partial trauma.

“Tell Remus it is his fault because he was the one messing around!”

“Tell Romulus he's being a baby about this and he can just suck up like he always does in the next class.”

(In fairness, Remus can't say much about being a suck-up).

“Tell Remus that that was probably the only class we're ever going to have on Thestrals and he's just made me miss my only chance to pet one!”

Romulus is just as dramatic as Sirius.

“Tell Romulus that his darling Kettleburn is a raging moron and he'll forget that he taught us about them within a week and repeat the lesson anyways. You don't need to get so worked up.”

Romulus makes an incredulous face at his brother and grips his fork so hard that his knuckles turn white. His plate of food is dreadfully untouched and this time, Remus will not be willing to offer him more than half of a sandwich to keep him happy.

“How dare you talk to me!” Romulus shrieks, inadvertently talking to Remus directly as well so Remus laughs at him. He looks to James and Sirius to his right who seem appalled at the break in mediated conversation, and to Peter on his left who looks relieved about his break as an adjudicator.

When he doesn't get an answer out of Remus after a few moments, Romulus springs to his feet and slams his hands down on the table. Had James not been hogging Sirius so much, he and Romulus would be joined at the hip.

Remus stands too, opening his mouth to say something finally when someone else butts in.

“Can you two stop?” That someone asks from their seat next to James. It's a girl with long blonde hair and big hazel eyes that dig into each of the boys like daggers. She has painted nails which Remus thinks is quite cool- he hasn't seen any other girls here with painted nails yet- and she doesn't look very intimidated after telling off people she doesn't know which Remus also thinks is quite impressive.

Romulus practically throws himself back into his seat as if it's Lyall or Hope telling him off. “Sorry.” He says and Remus catches his awed eye as he too sinks back down, shocked that he can fight with Romulus for hours while a girl can settle the argument in what was that- four words? Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

The girl shakes her head. “No, I'm asking if you're both physically able to stop bickering.”

Both? Remus wants to do a double take because ‘both’ is just offensive. He can stop bickering whenever he wants and for however long he wants. He can do anything, he just chooses not to. He's not argumentative- Romulus is the argumentative one.

Another girl with contrasting fiery, red hair shushes the blonde girl harshly before Remus can begin to make his case.

“I'm just saying!” Continues on the blonde, moreso to her friend this time rather than to the boys. “They are always giving out about something.” “I'm sorry about her.” The red haired girl says, scrunching her face at the boys. She has freckles all across her cheeks and nose and she has striking green eyes like nothing Remus has ever seen before. He almost starts to talk to her about where she's from like a normal person when he notices the boys all nodding frantically and in sync.

“You don't need to be sorry.”

“It was my fault.”

“We aren't usually this loud.”

“What are your names?”

Wow.

Now, Remus is sure that Marlene and Lily have good intentions but they effectively swiped Remus' friends from him for the rest of lunch, leaving him on the sidelines as the boys hovered around them. This made Remus the only witness to a Slytherin begin to whisper into his friend's ear, and the only one to hold the anxiety of another incoming attack.

Finally they're all separated when lunch ends, the girls having to follow one half of the Gryffindor first years to their class while the boys follow the other half to theirs- Defence Against the Dark Arts.

When he's back to his senses, James starts his usual ramblings about the cursed subject. Remus is skeptical again (he's beginning to think he's just a doubtful person at this point) but he keeps the mentality that should next year come and Professor Vincent Rialto does indeed not return, he'll take after James and use the class as an hour to do absolutely nothing.

Well, doing nothing in James' view is really doing anything but letting himself be taught- Sirius as well. If she thinks the pair are bad in her class, McGonagall would literally fall over and into an early retirement if she saw their carry on in poor Rialto's lessons.

He's very young. Remus doesn't think it's very smart to employ someone to teach kids that they're only ten years older than (just four in the case of the seventh years) and expect order. James says they'll hire anyone off the street that thinks they'll be able to last until next year.

Rialto is also too nice. He doesn't seem to grasp that he has final authority in the classroom which tends to leave James to be the one to get everyone to shut up.

“Shut up!” He booms in his high voice, standing wobbly on his desk at the front (he sits next to Sirius here with no questions asked) and peering down at the rest of the class. Despite his shenanigans, James is Rialto's favourite.

Rialto, who has been politely asking for quiet for the last ten minutes, seems overjoyed at the silence that falls.

“Alrighty then!”

Dear lord.

“If we can please all open our books to page ten, please!”

Dear lord, could he say ‘please’ any more? Remus would roll his eyes if he didn't feel so bad for the guy. Maybe the others are right and he actually doesn't need to worry about Rialto staying here for long.

Page ten begins a chapter on those who work for the Ministry to catch the bad guys- Aurors. Remus sits back and fiddles with his stationary as Rialto talks about them, figuring that if he can just find a way to bring up his Auror father, he's set for actually doing nothing for the next couple lessons.

He hears Lyall complaining about the Ministry to Hope a lot. There's not a lot of brains going around in there, apparently. Lyall likes his job in the Department of… whichever Department that deals with the bad guys, but there seems to be a whole lot of things to give out about- the pay, for starters. That seems to be Lyall's biggest source of annoyance. Maybe Remus will bring that up if called upon.

He pretends not to hear Romulus trying to get his attention from just beside him but it gets a lot more difficult when the class is instructed to complete a page of comprehension without the specification to do so quietly.

“Remus!” Romulus shouts at him, throwing a ball of scrunched up parchment at his head.

“What?”

“Blimey, Remus, I've been calling you for five minutes!” Romulus laughs, obviously not altogether realising that it was absolutely on purpose.

“I know,” Remus snaps at him and his face falls from amused to purplexed. “I'm not talking to you.”

“Why? I forgive y’know. I got bored.”

Remus scoffs and throws the parchment back at Romulus. “Now I'm mad at you for something else.” “For what?” Remus almost asks for the ball of paper back so he can throw it at Romulus again.

“Giving up so easily.” He articulates and he turns back in his seat to look at the page he's done no work on. Then, he looks around and sees everyone else with just as much written down and feels a little better.

“You told me to give up!” Romulus tells him. “And now you're mad that I listened to you?” “Yes, because you didn't listen to me when I told you to shut your big, stupid mouth, you listened to Marlene!”

Romulus strides over to the front of Remus' desk and leans. “I did not!”

Remus doesn't give him the satisfaction of a look.

“Would you have forgiven me if Marlene hadn't told you to shut up?”

“Yes!”

“In the same timeframe?”

“Yes!”

Romulus hits Remus' forehead and his head jolts back. This is fine because the scowl he sends Romulus' way comes easier than ever.

“Girls have nothing to do with it. I have free will and I used it to forgive you.” He continues. “And you're being a right old punk about it, you know that?”

Remus doesn't care what he's being. He doesn't care if Romulus hates him because frankly, they're never going to talk again. Remus is sure he'll be able to cope without hearing his voice because he owns the same one- he'll hold conversations with himself if he really has to, God knows those will be more intelligent than whatever this is.

“I'm still mad at you.” Remus spits. Romulus goes to hit him again but Remus dodges it this time, forgetting where he is and standing up.

“Now you're acting like a girl.” Romulus says when they're finally eye-to-eye.

“No I'm not.”

“Yes you are.”

“No-”

Remus trails off when he sees Rialto come walking down the aisle between his and Romulus' desk.

“Hello boys.” He sings. Remus half expected him to ask permission to speak for them.

The boys greet him back with matching awkward smiles.

Rialto points to Romulus with a smirk.

“Remus.”

He points to Remus with a raised brow.

“And Romulus?”

“That's exactly it.” Romulus says which causes Rialto to beam just that much brighter. His back even straightens out.

“Wow!” He gasps. “Okay, brilliant, I didn't think I'd be able to do that. Five points to Gryffindor for both of you!”

Expecting to be told off for being loud or out of his seat or not doing his work, Remus is taken aback by the way Rialto skips back up the classroom and through more students’ conversations. Although granted, it was bold of Remus to assume that today was the day that Rialto was going to pull himself together.

Romulus struts back to his desk and laxly sits back down with his elbows on his knees. Smartarse.

“Are you still sure that Kettleburn is the blithering idiot?” He asks, flashing Remus a sharp grin: something he must have learnt from Sirius.

“I'm not talking to you!”

And from this moment on, Remus Lupin will never talk to his brother again.

Herbology is the last class of the day. Here, Romulus' hand may as well just stay up constantly because he always has something to say. Maybe Remus is this annoying in Muggle Studies but frankly, he doesn't care. He's not sure how or why it's different, but it is. Actually, maybe it's because Herbology is a stupid class that only stupid people like.

Romulus merrily pots the seeds that he's been given with Peter on one table while the other three boys have their own.

James won't touch his pot because he saw little critters going about in the soil, Sirius won't touch his because he doesn't want his hands to get dirty, and Remus won't touch his simply because he doesn't want to; he just cannot wait for today to end. Mondays huh?

Like he's a bad smell (there actually is quite a bad smell going around. Fertiliser, most likely, being in a greenhouse and all. There are thirty students in here though, and there aren't any open windows), Remus scrunches his nose whenever he hears Romulus' name be called. And when he answers something right and when he earns more house points. Remus wants to whirl around and throw this wretched dirt right in his face.

It's not until dinner that he realises he was just very hungry.

The girls aren't near them anymore which Remus feels bad to be glad about, especially since this means the boys are all on edge again. They've gone as far as to keep their wands in hand as they eat, white knuckling the wood until they're shaking.

The Slytherins don't pay them any mind this time. This isn't as good as an alternative as Remus once thought because now as he stares at each and every one of them, he can't read their faces to brace for impact.

Beside him, James mumbles something under his breath and mindlessly taps the tip of his wand against Remus' glass.

“Hmm?”

“This is the fallout, Remus.” James gasps and turns to the others. “It's the fallout of this morning! This is what this is! This is letting them win!” He throws down his wand and cutlery and runs his hand through his hair, making it stick up more than usual.

Remus hasn't a clue as to what he's on about but what he does know is that he's still hungry and James wouldn't notice if he stole a chicken tender.

“This is what they want!”

Fine! Fine, fine, fine- Remus will pay attention a little bit.

“They pull one prank on us and we're left all skittish for the rest of the day; it's an after-effect or something.”

James slams his fist down on the table and dishes and utensils clatter.

“I won't stand for this!”

He stands up and out of his seat and snatches his wand off of the table; Remus thinks for a second that he's planning on finalising whatever point he's making by floating a feather across the Hall or turning one of the owls flying around into a wine glass.

“I won't let them get in our heads to line our skulls with jam, but the jam is our brains or something. I won't let them think that they're feared in this school- I say no more!”

Remus, much too hungry to lose his appetite now, turns away at the gorey ‘brain jam’ comment and looks to his food. It's really quite lovely food, he wonders how long it takes to prepare it, who are the people who do it, how many of them are there, why hasn't he seen them around. Lovely, lovely food.

The bench beneath him shakes when James leaps onto it, finding his balance with one foot where he once sat and the other on the edge of the table.

“James!” Remus shrills because he almost brings his foot down on his plate which would have sent food flying and Remus really would have lost his appetite. At least now he's only losing his mind. And his temper.

“Sit down!”

“You're embarrassing yourself!”

“And the girls are watching!”

Not even that stops James from pointing his wand at the Slytherins who mock him from their table.

“Slytherins!” He calls. The entire Hall is looking at them now. Remus scoots down the bench with a look on his face that says ‘I don't know these people’.

“War!”

“James Potter, sit down!” Roars McGonagall from the staff table.

James Potter, ever so unashamed and far from embarrassed, raises his hand apologetically at McGonagall and sits. Remus and the others join in with the crowd in their bountiful ‘boo’s, hoping he'll be there the moment that James realises thay half of said crowd… is girls.