Help Us
FRIDAY. SEPTEMBER 10, 1971.
If Remus is being honest, that went better than expected. Severus stumbled in late, danced about with the broom for a bit, and got sent right back off to the nurse without any casualties. Unless you count the class period as a casualty. Professor Sughorn had been entirely unable to force the class to get any work done after that spectacle.
It would have been a lost cause anyways. Peter could barely contain his snickering. Remus is pretty sure James kicked him under the table a few times to get him to quiet down. But the moment their dormitory door swings shut, James positively explodes.
He launches himself onto his bed in a fit of giggles. “That was brilliant!”
Remus rolls his eyes, but a smile tugs insistently at his lips. It was certainly a job well done if nothing else. He takes a seat on his own bed, biting his lip to disguise his grin.
Sirius, who’d been nearly nothing but scowls ever since stepping foot in the Gryffindor dorms for the first time is smiling so wide it’s a wonder his cheeks haven’t cramped from the unfamiliar strain.
“Did you see the look on his face?” Sirius sits beside James. He pulls a face, blinking owlishly in mock bewilderment.
Peter takes a seat on the floor in the middle of the room. Two fat tears roll down his cheeks as he wheezes out breathless peals of laughter. “And Professor Slughorn!”
James hops up to a standing position atop his bed. He puffs out his chest in a poor imitation of the professor’s gut. “I’d ask you to put down the broom, Dear Boy, but I-” He can’t finish the impression without collapsing into another fit. He flops back onto the mattress, kicking his legs in a rather dramatic show of elation.
Remus can’t help but join in. Severus had swung the thing around like the world’s worst vaudeville performer, stumbling into desks and tipping stools. He’d looked a bit like a cartoon character in the process of slipping on a banana peel.
“The broom was a great touch.” Sirius flashes James a sharp, pearly white grin. “Nice one, James.”
Peter nods in agreement, but before he can voice his assent, James rocks himself back up into a sitting position looking confused. “I thought that was you.” He says to Sirius, brows suddenly furrowed.
Sirius shakes his head. “No. I was with Juliette.”
“I was out by the pitch.”
Peter hops to his feet at the same time that James and Sirius whirl around to face Remus. All three speak at once, their words come out in a loud, chaotic jumble of “Lupin?!” and “How did you do that?” and “Evil genius! Mastermind! Moriarty!”
Remus feels his face flush. He must be scarlet based on how hot his cheeks have gotten.. He ducks his head, a wide smile rapidly spreading across his face. “I just wanted to be sure he brought the broom to class, is all.” He shrugs, feeling rather sheepish all of a sudden.
James is undeterred. When is he not? He jumps onto Remus’ bed, bouncing a few times before mussing up Remus’ hair affectionately. “Next time we ought to just leave you in charge, eh?”
To his surprise, Remus finds that his chest doesn’t sink at the notion of a ‘next time.’ But it probably should.
There really shouldn’t be a next time. For several reasons. The first is obvious. It rears its ugly head approximately once per month and is the reason Remus is meant to be staying as far away from his roommates as possible. The second is a bit simpler.
“We’re bound to get caught eventually.” He says, doing his best to fix the hair James just ruined.
Sirius snorts. It feels terribly incongruent with his aristocratic face.
“What?” Remus asks, eyes narrowing just a hair.
“You snuck out to the Flying field, and performed a second-year charm without any of us even noticing you were gone.”
Remus is pretty sure Sirius didn’t intend for that to sting. It probably shouldn’t sting. There’s no reason for that. Remus is meant to be unnoticeable. That was the goal… but for some reason, the words bite at him anyway.
“What’s your point?” He says tersely.
Sirius’ eyes glint strangely. Remus can’t quite read them. Can’t quite decide if he wants to.
“That we won’t get caught if you help us,” Sirius says at last, shrugging halfheartedly.
James points at Sirius, grinning ear to ear. “Exactly!”
“Come on, Remus.” Peter pipes up, eyes all big and pleading. “You’ve got to admit, this was fun.”
It was. It absolutely was.
“And we’re good at it.” James insists. “We could probably do something bigger if we tried.”
“Bigger?” Sirius leans forward from his perch on James’ bed.
“If Lupin helps us, that is.” James waggles his eyebrows.
He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. But he wants to.
James leans up against Remus, draping himself dramatically across the other boy’s shoulders.
“Please?” He singsongs, long and drawn out. He stops momentarily to sit up and gesture at the others. “Come on guys.” He says, before resuming his position. “Please?” He restarts.
Peter joins in almost immediately, scurrying to Remus’ other side to mimic James.
Remis thinks of his father. Of how worried Lyall had been about this exact situation. He thinks of his Mother. Of what she had said to him the night he’d cried himself to sleep. He thinks of his talk with Madam Pomfrey as they approached the Whomping Willow.
Sirius doesn’t approach the other three boys. And he doesn’t say please. He isn’t even smiling anymore. But he meets Remus’ eyes. “Could you at least tell us what in Merlin’s name The Jetsons are?”
Shocked laughter claws its way up from Remus’ chest. The ghost of a smile plays across Sirius lips. Remus nods, unable to stop himself any longer.
“We could start there.”
James leaps up as though victory has been secured. Peter squeezes Remus into a too-tight hug.
Remus has half a mind to write Da an apology letter. But he shakes himself out of it.
He’s a smart boy. He can make this work.