We'll Be Alright

The first week of February brings about an opportunity: an opening in the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

The announcement was made at breakfast- sixth year Captain Redding stood up on his bench (do all Quidditch fanatics have an obsession with standing on furniture?), brioche in hand and called for the House table to listen.

“McDermott:” He had begun, looking down upon fourth year Seeker, McDermott.

A match had taken place two days before, Gryffindor against Ravenclaw in which the Gryffindors lost. Badly.

“You're fired. Everyone!”

Redding turned to the students fixed on him before McDermott could get a word out in protest. “Seeker tryouts this afternoon!”

The first week of February also brings about the most rain Remus has ever witnessed, dark, unmoving clouds never ceasing to pour down on the school. It's constantly cold and the air is constantly damp. Why anyone would want to sign themselves up to flying around in the wind and rain is beyond Remus. It's a real tough decision he has to make but ultimately, he decides he's going to opt out of such a thing; Romulus and Peter too.

McDermott hadn't even finished storming out of the Great Hall before excited chatter rang out all across the table, maybe even the Hall. James and Sirius had to have been the loudest. They are still talking now (although it does make sense to) as they walk to the pitch for tryouts.

It's only them two actually going to be doing anything. Remus hates everything to do with the bloody sport but sitting and watching doesn't sound terrible, he must admit. In this February weather, it's a little less tolerable but they've all got their big jackets on and a few extra layers. Peter had suggested they bring a blanket, though it was agreed that that would be terribly embarrassing.

Remus doesn't even know why James and Sirius are bothering. Redding is hardly going to let a first year on the team, let alone halfway through an already rough year wins-wise where they'll have to learn whatever strategies or whatever. He's no genius at Quidditch, but Remus knows that the Seeker is one pretty big part to play- they're not going to let the smallest demographic of kids even try out.

“The Seekers need to be small, Remus.” Sirius explains, slowly like he's talking to a five year old. Remus would be mad if that wasn't the only way Quidditch rules and regulations actually get stuck in his head.

“They need to be fast to get the Snitches first. Having a big, beefy fourth year like McDermott was never going to last anyway, not with scrawny old Yovanna on the Ravenclaw team.”

Yovanna is in her third year. Young, probably younger than the rest of the team and the only girl. She only joined at the start of this year, so it's said. Remus tries to picture the other Seekers on the Slytherin and Hufflepuff teams and yeah, he remembers them to be pretty small too, either just small-built people or in and around third year like Yovanna. But third year is a whole lot different from first.

James chuckles. “You should try out, Remus, you look like you're eight or something.”

Romulus, half in another conversation with Peter, shoves James a little on both their behalfs.

“Absolutely not.” Remus says. “Way too high and I don't need a constant cold, thank you very much.”

“You just gotta get the hang of it, that's all.” James says. “It's really not that high up. And, you're hardly gonna fall if you're just smart about it.”

“But I'm not smart about Quidditch. Anything else, sure, but Quidditch mostly goes in and out with me.”

Quidditch Quidditch Quidditch. A load of old pants, really. Remus doesn't see a single reason to get so worked up over it like some people do. Chess is a sport, isn't it? You don't see people dressing up like madmen and screaming and yelling and getting so excited over it. Well, maybe excluding Peter, but even that is to an extent; Peter doesn't dress up.

Also with chess: it's just a lot safer. It's only inherent risk is the head of a pawn getting stuck up one's nose or something mad like that that you'd actually have to try to mess up. Snooker and pool too, those are sports aren't they? Maybe Remus is just making this up because they don't seem very sporty. Darts as well, he supposes, but that's a lot like mini-javelin, is it not? Golf; now that's sounding more like a sport. Arm strength and whatnot. Why can't there be a golf course, or a darts championship, or a chess tournament? Golf can hardly be played in torrential wind and rain, so all that Remus is hearing is moderate-to-spectacular indoors, or at least warm sports.

James and Sirius- petrified of being late- made them leave much too early. So, they take the slightly longer route to the pitch. The rain has let up for them, it seems, although the chill is still very much hanging in the air.

They walk down the path that leads to the shore of the Black Lake. It has to be well below zero, that water. There's all sorts of things swimming about in there- Remus wonders if they're cold, or if the further down it goes, the warmer it gets, or if it's the other way around.

It snowed in early January (in Wales, at least), too early for Remus to be in school to know if the great big lake froze over. Maybe that's a blessing in disguise; he can imagine the attention it would bring, practically every student running to get a turn ice skating. He imagines it would end in a lot of broken noses and/or other bones.

Their path down is an off-course one, created by hundreds over the years. In good weather, it's a contrasting brown of worn down, stepped-on soil against green, pristine grass. Now- with the heavy rain that this week has brought- the colours almost blend into one colour, ugly and muddy.

It's not quite cold enough for snow anymore, the temperature always sitting just above freezing and just below something a little more tolerable.

The lake practically radiates coldness as they walk along its shore.

Romulus isn't a very straight walker, always swaying and veering off to the side as he strolls, slower than normal. As they walk in a line, Remus gets nudged more than his cold, damp mood can take right now.

He shoves his brother back. “Will you stop ramming into me every five seconds?”

Romulus is sent into Peter's side and Remus is purposely shoved back too. “I'm not doing anything!”

“You are: you can't walk in a straight line to save your life, keep bumping into me.”

“Cope.”

Remus shoves him again and Romulus does the same. So Remus shoves him, and again, and again, every time he's shoved too. The boys step back a little to not be in any sort of crossfire and laugh as the twins get progressively more harsh with their pushes, getting further away from one another with each one.

That is until Romulus runs forward after sending Remus stepping back to catch himself from falling into the mud. Push and shove until they've passed the mud and stumble into a short stretch of wet sand, the calm, rippling water getting closer.

“Hey, the water..!”

Meh, it's not like any of the boys are actually going to break up this fight. It's not really a fight, per say. The twins never actually fight, it's more of a release of energy and emotion with the only person Remus is comfortable with enough to throw into a lake. This is exactly what he does.

He walks forward and into Romulus, pushing him exceptionally hard by his shoulders so that he falls backwards onto his backside in the shallows of the baltic water.

Romulus squeals and stands shaking the icy murk from his pants and hands. A twinge of guilt hits Remus close to his heart, only because he wouldn't like to be all mucky like that. Cold like that. More than he already is, although he thinks he's about to be because the second Romulus is back on his feet, he's diving at Remus, taking him by the shoulders too and spinning them, Remus' back now to the lake.

Romulus pushes, Remus pushes. They grunt and growl at each other, trying their bestest best but Remus can that tell so painfully that he's losing by the slide of his shoes across sand. Mounds and craters are made in it from his toes trying to anchor themselves into the frictionless ground.

A chill consumes all of him when just the balls of his covered feet hit the edge of the water. It seems through the fabric of his shoes and wets his perfectly good socks. Remus knows he'll feel it until he changes them (this can't happen for an hour and a half at the least), and maybe even after then.

Romulus attempts a push like Remus executed a few seconds ago, but his determination to not get any more wet prevents him from coming any closer to Remus. A distance is created between them and his push isn't enough to knock Remus down too. It does, however, send him stepping backwards a little, the water now up to his ankles.

Remus hops out of the water and back onto the shore. Both his shoes are a significantly darker shade of blue now, feeling heavy and water-logged. The cuffs of his jeans are wet too, sending shivers up his legs too. He folds the damp ends of his jeans over themselves, revealing his lower shins to the chilled air but objectively, it's much better than the iced water.

They boys laugh a little at him; at Romulus too when he begins to step back from the water.

Remus is quick thinking.

“Lily!” He calls, raising his arm into the air in false greeting, making the boys all look behind them to where Lily supposedly is. Romulus looks too and Remus grabs the opportunity and Romulus who is caught terribly off guard. It takes a second for Romulus to land in seven inch deep, freezing cold water. Remus can tell this is going to spur a fever in Romulus for the rest of the week; the rest of the month maybe. He's not as happy about this but the sight of him sopping wet is very funny.

Maybe in the summer, it'd actually be quite a nice lake to swim in (maybe bar the squid Remus has been scared of since its mention). The beach by Granny Sophie's house is lovely but it's one of those bad ones with sharp rocks and shells instead of sand like this. There's not much but Remus figures if they go around collecting enough times, they'll all be able to build one mighty good sand castle. Or dig a big hole. Or both.

Can they just come up to Hogwarts during the summer? It's not like it just disappears for two months; it's a whole school. Maybe they wouldn't be allowed inside (that'd be truly brilliant though, wouldn't it? Remus can only imagine how fun it'd be to cycle through the halls and corridors, for James and Sirius to fly through them) but surely the grounds aren't off limits.

His oddly-timed, pleasant thoughts are abruptly snatched away when his balance is too, his feet being swept out from under him when Romulus kicks his ankles. Remus hands harshly on his palms and arse in the water again, but Romulus continues, dragging his feet until he's further in the water with him. Clearly, he doesn't care about getting wet anymore and frankly, neither does Remus.

“Lads?”

They splash each other, the ordeal turning into something more of a reason to get wet and mess around rather than just another murder attempt. Remus would invite the boys in too if he didn't know for a fact they weren't as utterly demented as the twins are, probably getting a cold at the mere idea of getting in the shallow water too. It's really not that bad once you're in though.

Maybe Remus' too half could have been spared. It was fine and dry even when he was initially pushed in. Now his thick jacket and the jumper and t-shirt beneath are wet with lake water. He hasn't started to shiver profusely just yet though, which Remus (although he's glad) is a little worried about.

He'd love a hot water bottle right now. Back in her knitting phase, Granny Sophie made thick, fluffy covers for them; Remus wants one of those. Because he likes being warm on the outside but the nostalgia those bring is a warm feeling. And he'd love a tea that he won't fully finish, and to sit by a fire. He wants something domestic (another warm feeling) for the rest of the day, not to be out here. The lake is pretty fun though. He doesn't think today is the day he and Romulus spend the whole afternoon swimming and splashing, but he puts a pin in the idea for a day where the weather is a little less grudgingly in the negatives.

“There's only forty minutes before tryouts start!”

“We need to go!”

Remus isn't sure if this water is clean. He hopes it is; it's hardly going to be so unclean that it's unsafe, it's next to a school for God's sake. He just can't help but picture the Thames in his head, how there must be all sorts of diseases floating about in there and maybe this lake too. He doubts it, but not enough.

He and Romulus stand and the water ripples around them. It drips from their now heavy clothes and Remus looks down. His blue jeans are a much darker blue all along the back of them, a little on the outer and inner front of his legs but the rest of them are moderately dry; it looks like he's reversed-pissed himself.

Romulus looks the exact same, seeming to notice it at the exact same time too. Remus isn't tempted to laugh.

Instead, he kicks more water Romulus' way, speckling his front with it. Romulus does the same and it's only when they step out of the water do they wonder why they got themselves more wet. Ah, it'll be alright, Remus is sure.

“Have you got the clothes and shoes Transfiguration down yet, James?” He asks as they're on their merry way, the slight excursion going more-or-less unspoken and the energy back to normal. Remus has started to shiver- this will be alright too, he's sure.

James shakes his head. “I don't.” And he nudges Sirius' arm, reaching across Peter to do so. “What about you, Padfoot? Know any drying charms yet?”

Sirius winces, thinks, and shrugs. “I can float you and throw you around a bit?” He offers to Remus. “Make you air dry a bit faster?”

Funnily enough, neither Remus nor Romulus take up his offer.

The more they walk, the colder Remus gets and the more he wishes for a good bit of warmth. He thinks of a big hug from Hope and thinks he'd really love one right now, not that he'd ever admit that out loud. Maybe in writing.

He takes his jacket off and he feels the same as he did with it on: bloody cold. He supposes that yes, he did decide to play with Romulus in a lake in his clothes, but that doesn't mean he went in wanting to get cold and wet. Since when does having have to be so consequential?

There's a fog or a low-flying cloud in the air around the Quidditch pitch, there's red and gold specks whizzing in the air already, and there's still thirty minutes until the tryouts are scheduled to begin: around quarter to three.

James and Sirius kick off once they're close enough to the stands, soaring over them with no issues whatsoever while the others find seats closest to the grass of the pitch. Usually, students will pay other students for seats up on the highest stands, or camp out there the morning of a match just to get them. Remus doesn't see a point in this; sure, the views are better up there, but they're so high up that one might as well just be playing in the match.

The two boys set up their designated plot of pitch for practice. Sirius magically wafts some (definitely not all) of the fog away so their vision isn't too obstructed, and James pulls out a Snitch from his pocket.

Oh, that Snitch. James' father gifted it to him for Christmas and even now, over two months later, James' adoration of it hasn't ceased. The dorm is full with the constant, constant buzzing and fluttering of it, with the heavy landing of James' feet on the floor when he has to jump up to get the little golden nuisance as it's wound itself up in a high place. Why James is so confident that the thing will stay nearby right now, Remus doesn't know.

But James pulls it out nonetheless and throws it into the air. Its wings sprout instantly and the fluttering resumes although it's safe to say that it's better out here in the open air that the confinement of the suddenly small common room, or worse, their even smaller dorm. Remus would like to put it's damned flesh memory to the test, see if it'll remember the flesh of Remus' hands snapping it into pieces.

Like a switch has been flicked, James and Sirius are competitors, outright rivals, chasing around after the Snitch. They stay head to head, both definitely deep down letting the other win which is probably why the Snitch-catching score is generally staying as a draw (they've made Romulus cast a signature tally list in the air with the fire-like lines he's picked up on casting).

Peter is working on trying to summon a deck of cards, or a chess set, or a couple of books down to the pitch as none of them had thought to bring anything like that in case of the inevitable boredom. Remus doesn't know how he could have been so stupid, knowing full well how bored he gets at the mere mention of the sport.

He'd love something to do but he is not the least bit willing to so much as attempt to summon anything himself, foo focused on shivering. Romulus is doing the same, practically huddled up into Remus' shoulder. They have Remus' jacket thrown over their laps which does little and they've put in orders to Peter so summon a couple of fresh jumpers too.

“This is,” Romulus accuses, teeth grinding. “Absolutely all your fault.”

“I know it is.”

This is an almighty first for the twins; it goes unspoken.

Remus mindlessly stares for a little while, tiredness from the week previous hitting him and the start of a cold doing so too. He doesn't notice when Marlene and a few other girls fly over, the girls quickly leaving for their own practice, but Marlene staying to do her usual picking on of James.

Remus doesn't have to be close (he'd love to be close though for this) to see it all unfold. Marlene makes hand gestures as she talks, something that helps a lot when trying to decipher what she's saying- like lip-reading or just plain and simple context clues. Should Remus learn to lip-read?

Marlene joins the tips of her thumbs to the tips of her indexes, bringing them to her face and mocking James’ glasses. She corrects herself and tilts her charaded glasses and probably makes a joke on how James' can never seem to sit straight on his nose. And she shakes her head and dips it to go upside down, ruffling it to the point of a blonde nest all while James' insecurely pats down his own hair and Sirius almost dies with laughter, leaning over the side of his broom (Remus wants to yell at him about being safe) and clutching his stomach. That, they can hear.

Remus resumes his staring until once again interrupted although he's not mad about it.

“Thank God,” Lily says as she manoeuvres through the stands up to the three boys sitting out. “Thought I'd have to watch the girls alone.”

“Now you have to watch James and Sirius too,” Romulus says. “Is it really worth it?”

They collectively and in sync turn their heads to the three on the pitch, midair and Marlene still tearing James to shreds with the harsh power of harsh words.

“Not trying out, Lily?” Asks Peter.

She shakes her head. “Can't do heights. I like football though, do you guys know football?”

Romulus likes football.

“I like football!”

Remus, between Romulus and Lily, leans back so that they can talk, uninterrupted by Remus' oh-so inconvenient presence.

“I love football.” Romulus expands and with it, so do both his and Lily’s smiles.

She groans and rocks her head. “I miss football, no one here ever knows what I'm talking about,”

Remus leans back on the row of seats behind him and looks up to the sky. Except, the sky is as boring as anything so he looks to the side instead, to Peter who hasn't bothered himself with summoning anything for the past few minutes. Maybe the spell has a terribly delayed reaction and there's about to be three dozen books and twice as many games flying at them. Remus now finds himself hoping that Peter has indeed just messed up the spell.

He looks back at Remus and sighs, rolling his eyes too. Maybe being absolutely brilliant best friends wasn't totally necessary today and they could have just stayed inside. Just maybe.

“And whoever does know, doesn't even want to play.”

Romulus is fully wound-up now, grinning madly and shaking his hands. Funny, Remus thinks, how Romulus hasn't mentioned a desire to play football since starting school to Remus at all. Then again, he hasn't mentioned wanting so desperately a home cooked meal from his parents but he'd dude head first into the conversation if someone brought up Hope's from-scratch Yorkshire Puddings.

“I'll play! We play all the time on the road.”

Lily looks to Remus in slight disbelief.

“Do you play too, Remus?”

Yeah, he wouldn't believe it either.

“I watch.” He says, sitting back up for just a second for the same of his back. “He plays.”

“I'm brilliant at it.” Romulus announces. Clearly, he hasn't got the concept of subtly bragging down just yet; it's not meant to be as forward, that's just egotistical.

Lily scoffs incredulously. “I'm brilliant,”

Well, also clearly, she doesn't care about egos on show. Doesn't care about anyone's ego bar James', naturally. James is everybody's exception to something.

“And I'm sure you're just fine.”

Remus decides not to just lean back again when a small argument breaks out between his brother and Lily, and decides to just get up and sit on Romulus' other side next to Peter instead.

They watch onto the three flying in the pitch, their quarrel left forgotten and their attentions fixed back on the game and the Snitch fluttering about a few yards away.

“Love a game of chess right now.” Remus mumbles, only half actually meaning to say so out loud.

“Isn't chess a sport?”

“Was thinking that, yeah. They hardly gather up stadiums of people to watch just two people play chess though, you know what I mean?”

Peter hums in disagreement and turns his head to Remus. “I'd hate for that many people to be watching me.”

For a minute, Remus wants to disagree right back. That is until he realises that it's the newspaper he wants to get in, not the television. Wants to be written about, not seen.

“Same.” He nods. “Especially during a game- I'd get all stressed out.”

Their gazes are drawn back to James, Sirius and Marlene chasing each other around.

“Don't know how some people do it.” Shrugs Peter, placing his elbows on his knees and watching on with his chin in his palm.

“Me neither.”

With fifteen minutes before tryouts start, those on the pitch have ceased any and all talking about non-Quidditch-and-strategy things. James has quit his incessant patting if his hair and fixing of his glasses, Sirius has his focusing expression on- on that looks like he's thinking of dying puppies so to not laugh, and Marlene is as calm and collected as she always is, as if the boys she so happily makes fun of each day aren't even there right next to her.

The Snitch is let out of James' grasp (he was the last person to catch it, now making Romulus' scoreboard an exact three-way tie) and it zoomed about in the air immediately. The three on the pitch close their eyes and Marlene counts down from five before they're allowed to look around for the golden trinket.

Feinting, Remus thinks, is a skill that Sirius needs to learn. See, should he catch even the tiniest glimpse of the Snitch, he'll start squealing and waving and darting in its general direction faster than words can fly out of his mouth. Then James will catch on, and then Marlene, Hope and Lyall down in bloody Wales will even catch on. His best bet for getting a place on the team is to squash this habit, take it by the root.

He dives for the Snitch is his usual loud fashion and he's off, the others in quick pursuit. The Snitch hovers low, about a metre above the ground a little while away. And it begins to fly off as fast as its intended captors in the opposite direction back to where the four spectators sit.

James is in first place and he zooms so quickly past that Remus only just about turns his head in time to keep eyes on him (why are kids allowed in this sport, he asks himself).

The Snitch circles largely around and James stays in first throughout the chase. He's a good six feet ahead of Sirius and Marlene and a good two feet from the Snitch.

“I got it, I got it!” He shrieks.

Sirius and Marlene's shoulders are bumping, both their hair in each other's faces and mouths. Sirius reaches forward for a second for the tail of James' broom (a complete and utter foul according to him, though, of course this rule doesn't apply to the Sirius Black), but retracts his arm sharply when Marlene nudges her broom into Sirius' in an attempt to make him lose balance.

“Got it, got it!”

James comes whizzing past where Remus and the others sit watching, not necessarily with bizzare interest in their eyes, but at the very least: entertainment.

He adjusts his non-extended arm that still holds on tightly to the body of his broom to the front, allowing him to lean further forward to the point that his fingers are just grazing the prized Golden Snitch.

“Got…”

But with the change of position, comes faults. Serious faults, causing James to lean too far forward, causing the end of the broom’s handle to dip down suddenly.

Like a plane in a nosedive, James' broom is plunged into the mud below and James is sent flying face-first into it too.

Sirius jumps off his broom immediately like how Remus jumps off a set of swings midair. He doesn't land so gracefully though and ends up with his hands and knees in the mud too, a few metres away from James. Marlene jumps off too, only after she's procured the Snitch and slowed down to a stop. She rushes to James, her steps intentional so that she won't be as much of a mess as the boys.

“Don't got it.” James croaks.

Sirius helps James stand up although it takes a few tries to actually get him standing, muddy hands slipping through muddy hands.

Remus gives over his jacket for James to wipe his face on when Redding’s voice booms across the field for the aspiring Seekers to gather around him. There's almost thirty people in all.

Redding claps his hands.

“Alright! Welcome everyone, welcome. Glad to see lots of eager people here.”

The semicircle around him is buzzing, everyone still worked-up with their legs fidgetly bouncing, and brooms swaying or in James' case: Snitch weaving in and out of his palm and fingers.

Redding claps again, like it's a full stop or capital letter to end or start a sentence. Lyall used to do that a lot with clicking his tongue- just an annoying habit.

“First of all! Any first years here?”

James and Sirius' hands shoot right up, Sirius not paying attention to where his brain was sending the signals and his broom to go flying off his shoulder and onto someone's back, and James also not paying attention to a measly thing like that and throwing the Snitch in the air. Its wings sprout and it's off again.

Six or seven or so other students also raise their hands out of instinct, but Marlene's stay by her sides. Odd.

Redding looks around acknowledging the giddy, raised hands.

“Right. You lot, fuck off, come back next year.”

Arms stay up for a silent, silent second before they are lowered in the first years’ beheaded excitement. There's a collective sagging of the shoulders and lowly exhalation of giddy breath and they begin to sulk away. Marlene stays and isn't caught.

Remus can see the huge levels of disappointment on his friends’ faces as they approach. If they both weren't covered in mud, he would have hugged them. Well… he is also wet and cold and dirty already…

He embraces both James and Sirius for a few seconds before they're winded right back up and discussions on Redding and his blithering idiocy and lack of anything at all cool, and strategies for next year's tryouts.

“They're not going to kick the new Seeker off the team after less than a year.” Romulus points out.

“We'll find a way.” James mischievously says. Sirius jumps around and laughs at this; the other boys feel a newfound fear of James' cryptic hints festering in their minds.

Lily nudges Remus out of it.

“I'm going to go sit with the girls and watch Marls.”

The girls that arrived in with Marlene have now retreated up to sit on the stands, their sulkiness not yet faded away (more like forgotten about in James and Sirius' case).

“How long do you think she'll last without being found out?” Remus asks, looking over to the middle of the pitch where the group of now around twenty are standing in an orderly line, Marlene at the back, waving to her friends conspicuously.

Lily hums. “I actually think she'll be grand for a little while. Maybe until she's next to do whatever they're queuing to do.”

Maybe she'll get as far as the end of the tryouts. Maybe it won't be until she's chosen as the new Seeker that

She scurries off for the other side of the stands (James offers to give her a lift on his broom, to which she declines) and the boys begin the disappointed traipse back to the castle.

The mud all over James and Sirius has begun to dry, begun to crust over them and it looks rotten. The bottom of their pants and their shoes are still wet with the earth and James' hair is matted with it.

The twins reek of the lake, of the squid in it, of the fish, grass, everything in that water. Parts of Remus' clothes have dried, leaving salt stains everywhere so that it looks as though he's been grossly sweating or something. Other parts are still sopping wet, others are frozen practically solid. Romulus walks like his pants are cardboard boxes, knees straight and hobbling. Both their lips are blue.

Peter on the vast contrary, is completely fine. He's got his coat, his clothes, his shoes- all dry. His nose is a little red and he's got a few sniffles but he's otherwise just peachy.

“Come here, Pete.” James keens, pulling Peter into him by his sleeve. He drapes an arm over Peter's shoulders too which Peter instantly shoves away.

“Don't get me all dirty too!”

“Come on, Petey.” Sirius says, putting his arm around him the same, rubbing his cheek with muddy hands. “We don't want you feeling all left out now, do we?”

“Please leave me out. Exclude me forever.”

Romulus full-on hugs Peter, forcing a sneeze while he's at it too. He pulls away and there's a big wet spot on Peter's shirt from where Romulus pressed himself against. He attempts to wipe it off.

“We love you, Pete.” Romulus coos, going to pinch his friend's cheeks but his hand being harshly swatted back down.

“Leave me alone.”

Remus comes up for his turn, hugging Peter just as his brother did, swaying them both on the spot for a little bit too.

“He's right, Peter, we la-la-la-love you. Love our love.”

In comes the others and Peter is bombarded with mud and water from all angles, eventually giving up and letting the group hug run its course.

“I hate you all so much.” Peter squeaks from the centre of it and repeats just that again and again once they've all broken apart from each other, leaving Peter looking like he'd run through a pigsty just like the rest of them.

He walks all in a huff from then on, throwing his dirty clothes at the boys once back in their warm dorm. The dried mud cracks and falls to the floor. Peter points at it and declares he will not be cleaning that up as he's too busy mourning his beloved clothes.

“Take it as a token of our appreciation, Pete.” Romulus says as Peter holds up his ruined clothes. “As a commemoration of our everlasting friendship. We love you, Pe-”

“Oh shut up, you, I don't want to hear it.”

A beat.

“Sorry, Pete. Love you lots.”