“You know how inside every single wizard exists a small voice of ancient magic that tells us when it’s time to stop,” James lowered his gaze from the wall. “The eerie creators that took a single chance and created you clearly must have skipped adding yours.”
The small crowd of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, they had just finished Charms together, that had gathered around, their attention caught by both the spectacle and the burning passion of good authentic gossip running in every average Hogwarts student’s veins, could easily mistake this as admonition. Some were only laughing. Some that had only faced James as the Gryffindor’s Unbeatable Quidditch Captain were stealing unsure looks of the maestro of this prank standing in the middle of it all, while they were trying to hold their snickers.
After years of being as tied with his fellow Marauder as a Quackerfler with its favourite branch of a birch tree, Remus could sense the smile in James’s words, who was standing to his right and simply knew better.
Obviously, Sirius knew this too. With a theatrical twist, never underestimate the performative skill Sirius executed for his audience, he turned to face them with a smile full of teeth. He bowed deeply and without breaking the pose, he lifted his head, the black long hairs falling in front of his eyes,
“Oh, yeah, I used to have that voice, mother dearest silenced it once and for all, I think at the beginning of second year?” He raised a sharp brow and turned his lips to the side, his face adapting to a grimace of presence reflecting. “You remember, Moony? It took me three weeks, to find my speaking voice, let alone go searching for the imaginary ones on my head.” More laughs. More unsure glances. Sirius solo-mission pranks usually had that effect.
Remus nodded and wondered once again; how much Sirius Black was too much Sirius Black. The pit seemed bottomless. He, personally, had fallen head first the first time he laid eyes on him on Hogwarts Express and yet hadn’t reached its end. Remus opened his mouth to add a witty remark on voices in one’s head, but Peter bumped into his shoulder,
“You won’t even make a run for it with this one, will you?”
Remus thought the question too obvious and would have laughed if Peter had colored his words with irony, he hadn’t. Which lead his thoughts questioning, what part about the fifty-one, “one for each month shared in Hogwarts” Sirius had explained, large gold-framed portraits picturing Professor Minerva McGonagall and Sirius himself in various lovely scenarios could keep hidden the identity of the executant. A sunny picnic date, a broom-riding date, James had pointed and laughed that one the most, a date at a snowy Hogsmeade, one that showed the Professor and Sirius riding a motorcycle, the former was the one driving it while she was rocking a leather jacket and the wind was blowing both their long dark and silver hair, one even appeared to be a muggle style wedding in the moment of vow exchanging, Sirius looked ridiculous in a puffy white wedding dress and McGonagall was rocking, again, a golden and crimson bow-tie, all of Gryffindors of their year and some professors occupying the front rows clapping enthusiastically. Remus even caught the Dragon Egg in one that showed a black dog and a tomcat, for a second he feared it too obvious of a joke, but a small smile caught his lips realising Sirius put it there only for the narrow target audience of the three other Marauders. In every single one of their Sirius had heart eyes and the Professor was smirking. Obviously, a couple in love.
There was no way the message of the portraits could be misinterpreted, since Sirius had taken the liberty to write it with big bold letters on a flying heart-shaped banner, To Minnie, Happy Valentines! This could have been us, but you seem to be font of playing with my weak Black heart. Transfigure me this, tough love toughens magic, no? Hope this proves it. Your one and true passionate admirer. P.S. Same place, same time? (Do make sure you make it today since most owls will be out delivering other hopeless romantics’ love letters, and I’ll get to spend more time thoroughly cleaning their scat.)
Sirius must have thought the same as Remus because he rolled his grey eyes.
“Oh, you are never seeing Hogsmeade after this,” tutted Lily even if she was standing close enough to inspect the paintings closely, her Charms notes in hand. Marlene couldn’t stop laughing as she elbowed Sirius at the side, the other huffing a breath. Mary was giggling behind her wizi-camera Marlene gave her for her birthday last year. Remus knew instantly what the front page of the February issue of Witching Around! The Hogwarts Hearsays would be, as its main editor was currently chasing the big pink flying heart to get a clearer shot.
More students approached, the other classes finally ending and everyone arriving for dinner. Sirius had obviously picked the best spot, hanging his artwork on the exact opposite wall of the Main Hall’s entrance.
“You are mad,” Remus concluded. Sirius winked at him.
At that exact moment a way-too-familiar pair of heels echoed through the corridor, somehow sounding higher than the chaos of the cheerful whispering, laughing, and vivid conversations. And then,
“Mr. Black!”