Chapter 3
Remus has just finished up the process of guiding his creaking joints down to the floor of the common room, when the peace is, abruptly, disrupted..
“We’re home!” Sirius announces as he bursts through the common room portrait.
“Yes we are,” James croons, a big, excited smile fixed firmly on his face. “And you’ll never guess what we got -”
Sirius reaches out to slap a hand across his mouth without even looking behind him. It’s a very practiced move. Beside him, Peter finally lowers his book.
“Do we even want to -”
“Nope!” Padfoot yells brightly, and then proceeds to drag James away and up the stairs.
Sirius didn’t even look at Remus once. Then again, he thinks bitterly, this is probably something he needs to get used to. It’s been four years of this lovesick pining, and he’s getting sick of feeling sick of himself. To sum it all up, Remus watches two of his best friends disappear up the stairs without him, and feels sick.
The two of them don’t see Sirius or James for the next few hours, until they all meet at the bottom of the dormitory stairs to walk to dinner. Despite Peter’s repeated kind attempts to pull him out of his own head, he has spent the day miserably replaying all of the reasons he needed to get over Sirius Black. It is a very long list, so the montage had quite a bit to pick through. In the safety of his own head, Remus is very good at picking at things; usually he does it until they scar.
So, Peter is the one to notice Sirius’s new jewelry.
“Prongs, could you pass the gravy? Moony, you’ve got a little bit of something riiiight there, yup, oh hey, cool charm Pads. Suits you.”
Remus snaps his head up. He always enjoys getting to see the new additions. Mostly, it’s a ring, and sometimes a pendant of some kind, or occasionally, a hair pin. He likes seeing what Sirius likes in them.
Well, huh. Remus stills like someone is flicking the wifi on and off inside his brain; he feels more intermittent than usual. Sirius has chosen a small charm to hang right in the center of the tightest chain, the one cradling his throat. It fits perfectly in that little hollow in which, if Sirius’s heart is beating just fast enough, Remus can watch the veins flutter. If he could just clamp his teeth down -
“It’s nice,” he says. He catches Sirius flick James a significant look out of the corner of his eye, but to be frank, Remus has his own problems right now. Like focusing on dragging his spoon of porridge along the treacherous path from the bowl to his mouth. (Sirius Sirius teeth touch skin neck)
Peter is watching him struggle with something akin to morbid curiosity.
It’s ridiculous that any new piece of information about Sirius is enough to disrupt entire Venn diagrams of thought. Sirius is enough to cut through all this mess, and Remus is honestly not sure if he’d like to examine what’s underneath.
He wonders if the lock is functional. He wonders why Sirius chose it. He wonders if it would be grippable enough.
He startles when a lump of porridge falls with a resounding splat onto the table. He looks at it rather morosely. Peter, ever the gentleman, leans over to pat at his hand.
“Not to worry pumpkin, I’m sure you’ll get it next time.”
Remus scowls and begins on his toast.
***
James would say, if you asked, that his absolute best quality scheming occurs when he’s not even awake. He doesn’t know what that says about him, only that the results of said schemes often prompt Peter to slap him on the back in sheer glee, Sirius to jump (on him) for joy, and Remus to smile with that mischievous glint lighting up his eyes.
It’s frankly obscene the amount James has been hearing about Remus’s eyes lately. Ever since Sirius’s confession, he’s been revealing Remus related thoughts like a dam breaking.
Obviously, keeping this from James had been killing him. James gets that. His best mate is the first person he ever wants to tell anything.
However, as happy as he truly is to listen to whatever his best mate deigns to tell him, this outpouring of Remus related observations is quickly driving James insane. Because, really. How can two people be this blind?? At one point he’d genuinely considered getting his eyes re-checked, because he must have been hallucinating all the clues Remus was dropping. There just wasn’t any other reasonable explanation for Sirius not catching them!
This is why, as the brilliant idea hits him in that haze between consciousness and falling back asleep at 1am, he jolts up so fast that he overturns. Right off of the bed.
There’s an almighty crash, and James groans. However, once the pain has subsided a little( and he’s told Pete that he’s alright, and that yes, he will be shutting up now - the sass is quite frankly hurtful), he manages to drags himself along the ground, not unlike an inchworm, to grab a sheet of random paper and a quill.
There, under the light of a hasty ‘lumos,’ he begins to write.
‘Sirius Black’s step by step plan to woo Remus, courtesy of his infinitely smarter and overall superior half, James Potter.’
When Peter wakes the next morning and trips over James on the way to the bathroom, he reads the line at the top with glee. Then, he gently stuffs a pillow under James’s lolling head.
Merlin, he’s about to be rich.
*
“Psst! Wake up you wanker, Remus could walk in and see this!”
James opens one bleary eye to see Sirius crouched down next to him, shielding his step-by- step plan with his entire body. Ah well. He always knew the paranoia would get to him eventually. That’s why it is included in said step-by-step plan.
“Ugh.”
Sirius pokes him harder.
“Alright! Alright, just get in here.,” he yawns, peeling himself off the floor. “Just let me tell the others we’ll come down for breakfast later.” He reaches into his pockets and Sirius knows he touches his hand to the small coin nestled there. Too many people have grown suspicious of the mysterious parchment they’ve often been caught with , so they’ve had to switch it up. Each marauder now carries a small object on them at all times. Said object is charmed to grow warmer upon touch. Different degrees of warmth mean different things, but when all else fails, morse code ( a muggle invention that Peter had introduced them to) also works. Well, kind of. That one time James accidentally messaged Peter an ‘SOS’ signal when they were in potions had not ended well.
James claps his hands together and gestures for Sirius to climb into his bed.
“Insert joke here about propositioning me,” murmurs Sirius distractedly, as he does exactly that.
“Class is now in session.” James begins. His hair is tousled and currently defying gravity, but Sirius is trying graciously to focus on its owner’s important teachings instead.
“Oi, would you stop ogling my hair? It's doing it's best right now."
Well, apparently he’s failing.
It takes them almost twenty minutes to actually start work ( thank Merlin it’s a Saturday), what with all the wrestling and name calling getting in their way.
“So what I’m thinking-”
“Oh this should be good.”
“So what I’m thinking, is we start to spread the word that Gryffindor tower’s very own Casanova is once again traversing the market, surfing among all the fish in the sea, searching, desperately, if you will, for the Lily to his James-”
“Okay I’m gonna stop you right there, mate,” Sirius interjects, flopping back exasperatedly into James’s bed like the fish he’s supposedly traversing, or surfing or whatever it was.
James clears his throat. “As I was saying. We start telling people you’re available, and that you’ve bought this new charm from an overseas jeweller that can only be opened by the one your heart desires. Just in time for Valentines’ day, y’know. And I’m sure people will be lining up Pads, but -”
“Prongs, there will be no doubting of this fact.” Look, maybe Sirius is a tad arrogant, but it is a long standing fact that nobody should slander Sirius’s looks.
James, who often rips down the curtain Sirius seems to fall through into a sea of insecurity, is gentle with him.
“I would never. However, it might be good to add some… further incentive to people. How does fifty galleons sound?”
Sirius just stares at him. Unfortunately, James just snorts at him. “Oh come on, like you can’t afford it -”
“You’re literally just as rich as I am! Probably even richer, what with your parents love and all-”
“Oh can it, you have that too.”
It’s lighthearted, but the reminder still pulls Sirius up short every time.
They walk down to drown themselves in Saturday breakfast waffles (it’s now 12.30pm), and plan to begin step one ( alternatively named phase two) immediately.
“I think we should tell Pete,'' James says, as he reclines on his broom in midair. It’s been a few hours since the original scheming, and some quidditch practice is good for filling in any stretch of time.
“I think- oh, one second.” James waits patiently as he whips his bat around to smack the ever loving shit out of the bludger flying at vaguely concerning speeds towards his head.
Then he continues, “As long as he doesn’t tell Remus. We need this plan to work, mate, or I’m going to look like even more of a fool around Moony than usual.”
James hums thoughtfully. They turn in unison to consider Peter, who’s currently reading a book down in the stands. He’s more lonely than usual down there, because Remus is busy heading up his study group in the far corner of the library. He tells people this is to avoid the most amount of people possible but Sirius knows it’s because that’s where Madam Pince keeps the nice smelling candles, and the scent of lavender to Remus is the draw of hard drugs to any normal addict.
“He’s a marauder. Peter can keep a secret.”
It’s with this final conclusion that Sirius absentmindedly deflects another bludger (which was aiming significantly lower, this time), and they quit their training to whisper secrets of great importance into Peter’s ear.