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hp fic: A Short Summary of Things That Are James Potter's Fault
Title: A Short Summary of Things That Are James Potter's Fault
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: PG
Words: ~2,200
Summary: In which the mistletoe is hexed, Remus would rather not spend the night in a broom cupboard, and several things are James Potter's fault.
Notes: Written for Day Three of![[personal profile]](https://www.tumblr.com/favicon.ico)
winterwolfstarwank. I was on Team Erecto, and the prompt was Remus & James.
A Short Summary of Things That Are James Potter's Fault
"Moony," Sirius said, swaying as he tried and failed to move his feet. "Moony, I think I'm stuck."
Remus blamed Evans for this. And James, because James had let her near the bloody mistletoe in the first place. Not only had she Charmed it to float around at random, but she'd fixed it so it was invisible right up until it trapped you. He'd already kissed Peter and Mary MacDonald, and he'd had two very narrow scrapes with Davey Gudgeon. This current situation was far more mortifying, because it was Sirius.
"Sorry," Remus said, heat flooding his cheeks. "It's the mistletoe."
"What about it?"
"You have to kiss me," Remus explained. Slowly, because Sirius was fairy trollied.
"Right," Sirius said brightly. "Glad to." He smiled like it was a fantastic joke, and for him it probably was. He'd kissed James about twenty minutes ago, when the mistletoe caught them at the snack table together, and they'd made a grand show out of it, sighing and clutching at each other, collapsing on the floor and rolling around until Evans threatened to pour a bucket of water over their heads.
"Get on with it, will you?" Peter shouted, tossing a balled-up napkin in their general direction. It was a valid complaint, as much as Remus didn't appreciate it; if you mucked about too long, the mistletoe started shrieking like a Muggle air raid siren.
"C'mere," Sirius said, resting his hand on Remus' shoulder. He swayed again, then ducked in for a kiss; it was warm and soft and perfect, just a slow brush of lips and Sirius' thumb touching the skin above Remus' collar, and then it was over, Sirius huffing out a quiet breath against Remus' jaw before turning and bellowing for someone to get him another drink.
Remus didn't bother wishing for the floor to swallow him whole; he'd never been that lucky in all his life. His face was uncomfortably hot when he glanced around the room, but no one seemed to be paying him any mind. Except James, who was smiling in a way that could only be considered smug.
+
Remus woke to James looming over him with a plate of kippers and a dangerous gleam in his eye.
"Bloody hell," Remus snapped, rubbing his hand over his face. It was half eight if it was anything. Remus drank enough last night to drown a troll, and the kippers smelled absolutely foul. "Are you mad?"
"No more than usual." James peered at the interior of Remus' bed, then favoured Remus with a sharp frown. "Where's Sirius?"
"Haven't the foggiest," Remus said, mostly to his pillow. Then he thought about it, and sat up with a tired grunt. "Why would he be in here?"
James made a gesture so crude it would've curled McGonagall's hair.
"You are mad," Remus said, kicking his foot until he connected with James' hip.
James just shrugged, smiling around a mouthful of kippers like he knew something Remus did not. Remus considered what little he remembered from last night, but he didn't come up with anything out of the ordinary -- just liquor and food and laughter, and a bit of dancing, once someone found something besides Celestina Warbeck on the Wireless. Gudgeon had passed out on the stairs, and several people were sick on the potted sneezewort by the portrait hole. There'd also been some kissing, no thanks to Lily Evans.
"Is this about the mistletoe?" Remus asked, wincing as his head began to throb. "You've no room to talk, the way you two were carrying on."
"We were just taking the piss."
"And we were just trying to escape your girlfriend's Herbology experiment."
"He brought you upstairs," James said, licking grease from his fingers.
Remus remembered that fairly well -- Sirius standing behind him, one hand cradling his elbow, the other warm and solid at the small of his back. Sirius had kissed his forehead before steering him into the bed, but Remus hadn't bothered to dwell on it. I couldn't have meant anything, not when Sirius had been completely rat-arsed. "Well, he didn't stay. Have you lost him?"
"Apparently." James popped the last of the kippers into his mouth, then set the dirty plate on Remus' bedside table. "If he's naked in the Great Hall again, I'll kill him with my bare hands."
"You'll have to queue behind McGonagall," Remus muttered. He slouched back into his pillows and threw his arm over his eyes. "Did you check the wardrobe? He sometimes goes dog after a rough night. He swears Padfoot doesn't get hangovers."
He rolled over as James walked away, pulling his blanket over his head just as the wardrobe's doors squeaked and James said, "Get up, you wanker. You're putting dog hair on my Quidditch kit."
+
"Did Gudgeon really shag McKinnon last night?" Sirius asked, sprawled out across his bed. He had the latest issue of Martin Miggs open in front of him, but he didn't really seem to be reading it. "On the bloody stairs?"
"Yes," James said.
Peter huffed loudly. "Don't remind me. I could've lived without seeing Gudgeon's knob just before bed."
"Had good dreams, did you?" Sirius asked.
"Rictusempra," Peter replied, without really waving his wand. Sirius dodged it by rolling onto the floor; he barked out a short laugh as the Martin Miggs began to flop around on the bed.
James sat up from the pillows piled at the head of his bed, straightening his glasses with a sigh. "I was thinking -- "
"Careful with that," Sirius murmured.
"Wanker." James tossed an old and much-abused copy of Quidditch Monthly at Sirius' head. "I was thinking about some supper. Anyone with me? Moony?"
"No thanks," Remus said, wrinkling his nose. His stomach was in a bit of a snit; he opened a box of Ice Mice an hour ago and accidentally eaten twelve.
"Peter?"
"I reckon I could eat," Peter said. He slid off his bed and followed James to the door. "You coming, Sirius?"
Sirius got to his feet, shaking his head as he dusted himself off. "I'm good." He shifted into Padfoot, then made a soft noise -- whuff -- and jumped onto Remus' bed.
Remus shifted to make room for him, and ignored the amused look James gave him as he headed out the door.
+
"This is all your fault," Remus complained, pinching James in the side. He didn't much care for broom cupboards as a general rule -- which was unfortunate, considering how much time he seemed to spend in them -- but this one was particularly small and dark. It was also terribly dirty; Remus was sure he had cobwebs in his hair.
"I suppose it is, at that," James said agreeably. "I never should've given Sirius the important bits." He leaned closer to the door, jostling into Remus' hip as he rested his hand on the dusty wood. "It's a good thing he's pretty. He certainly can't walk and think at the same time."
"That's not what I meant."
"You don't think Sirius is pretty?"
"I meant," Remus said quickly, because this conversation wasn't going anywhere he cared to visit, now or ever, "that we wouldn't be in this sodding cupboard at all if you hadn't decided to put Stinkpellets in the dungeons for no reason."
James snorted under his breath. "You don't need a reason to put Stinkpellets in the dungeons."
"Yes, but the school is on holiday." Remus shifted to one side as best he could, away from a rolled tapestry that was buzzing in an alarming fashion. "Half of Slytherin has gone home."
"Which means, the other half will get twice as much stink."
"That's not how it works."
James snorted again, then wrinkled his nose, rubbing at it like it was itching with dust. Served him right. "Budge over, will you? You're breathing right down my neck."
"Where do you want me to go?" Remus asked. As it was, he had one armed draped over a broken goblin statuette, and his feet were wedged between two boxes of rags. "I've a mop handle half up my arse as it is."
James snickered loudly -- because he was a child, or because he'd taken too many Bludgers to the head, Remus didn't care to sort it out just now -- his shoulders shaking so hard it pushed Remus back into the stack of portraits propped against the wall. There was a shuffling noise outside the door, which shut him up for a full three seconds, but then he was at it again, laughing so hard he was gasping for air, and he was moving, elbowing Remus' side and squashing Remus' toes as he turned around.
"Sirius," James began, his voice bright and sly at once, but Remus waved him off with a heavy sigh.
"Piss off."
"He fancies you, you know."
Remus sighed again, rubbing his hand over his burning cheeks. "That's not funny."
"I'm not being funny."
"Oh, for -- open the door, Prongs. It's been thirty minutes. Filch must've buggered off by now."
"Moony," James said, tugging on Remus' sleeve. He cocked his head to the side; his hair was an absolute riot, and his face was sallow in the yellowish light from his wand. "Look, he fancies you, and you fancy him. I just think you two should go off and -- you know," he paused and waved his hand around uncertainly, "do whatever two blokes do when they fancy each other."
The problem with James was, he was never serious, except for when he was. "I never said I fancied him."
"Your face says it," James insisted. "It's been saying it, since -- oh, I don't know. Fifth year, maybe."
Remus leaned back a little, letting his head rest against the first portrait in the queue; the fellow inside it cleared his throat rudely, and Remus rapped it with his wand. "I don't want to talk about it."
"All right, all right. I'm not -- "
The door jerked open with a mournful creak, hard enough that James went arse over teakettle into the hall. He was still holding Remus' sleeve, so he dragged Remus along for the ride in a confused tangle of arms and legs and wands; once Remus could sort up from down again, he found Peter standing over them, the Map in his hands and a rather hunted look on his face.
"I, um -- if you lot are done snogging, Sirius needs some help with that tetchy suit of armour on the third floor."
+
The sad part was, Remus really should've known better. James hadn't mentioned it for two days, but that didn't mean he'd forgotten about it. In fact, James was often at his most dangerous when he was quiet; it just meant he was busy cooking up some kind of plot in that daft lump of clay he called a brain.
Sirius disappeared shortly after supper. That should've been Remus' first clue, but Remus rather wasn't paying attention. He was exhausted from a long holiday of drinking and pranking and staying up all hours, and he let himself get distracted by James and Peter, who started a glorious row over some minutia in the rules of Gobstones that they probably didn't care about in the first place, except that Peter was right because he was captain of the Gobstones Team, and James was right by virtue of being James. Remus abandoned their dormitory about ten minutes in, mainly because he couldn't hold with the noise, and made his way down to the fifth-year landing, where a window seat was set into the wall.
He didn't expect to find Sirius there, dozing with his neck at an uncomfortable angle, his head tipped against the foggy pane. He studied Sirius for a moment -- the perfect line of his nose, the soft swell of his lower lip -- then turned with the idea of retreating to the common room, startling when Sirius caught him by the arm.
"Sorry," Remus said quietly. "I didn't mean to wake you."
Sirius slid his hand down to Remus' wrist, brushing his thumb over the thrum of Remus' pulse. "There's plenty of room."
"How long have you been down here?"
"Long enough that I've got a knot in my spine." Sirius sat up a little, rolling his shoulders and neck. "I was starting to think James was having me on."
Oh, well. Of course. "Look, I'll just -- "
"C'mere," Sirius said, his mouth curving with a smile. He tightened his hold on Remus' wrist and tugged him a little closer. "I'm going to kiss you now. After, if you're still sore at James for telling me, I'll let you go. I'll even hold him down for you."
Remus huffed out a nervous laugh, his stomach twisting into knots, but Sirius leaned in before he could think about pulling away, tugging Remus even closer, curling his other hand in the hem of Remus' jumper. It was as soft and warm as their kiss under the mistletoe, and even more perfect, because a hex wasn't prodding them into it, and all their friends weren't watching.
"Well?" Sirius asked, his mouth moving against Remus' jaw. "You still want to murder James?"
Remus wrapped his arm around Sirius' neck. "A little, but it can wait. I'm busy at the moment."
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: PG
Words: ~2,200
Summary: In which the mistletoe is hexed, Remus would rather not spend the night in a broom cupboard, and several things are James Potter's fault.
Notes: Written for Day Three of
"Moony," Sirius said, swaying as he tried and failed to move his feet. "Moony, I think I'm stuck."
Remus blamed Evans for this. And James, because James had let her near the bloody mistletoe in the first place. Not only had she Charmed it to float around at random, but she'd fixed it so it was invisible right up until it trapped you. He'd already kissed Peter and Mary MacDonald, and he'd had two very narrow scrapes with Davey Gudgeon. This current situation was far more mortifying, because it was Sirius.
"Sorry," Remus said, heat flooding his cheeks. "It's the mistletoe."
"What about it?"
"You have to kiss me," Remus explained. Slowly, because Sirius was fairy trollied.
"Right," Sirius said brightly. "Glad to." He smiled like it was a fantastic joke, and for him it probably was. He'd kissed James about twenty minutes ago, when the mistletoe caught them at the snack table together, and they'd made a grand show out of it, sighing and clutching at each other, collapsing on the floor and rolling around until Evans threatened to pour a bucket of water over their heads.
"Get on with it, will you?" Peter shouted, tossing a balled-up napkin in their general direction. It was a valid complaint, as much as Remus didn't appreciate it; if you mucked about too long, the mistletoe started shrieking like a Muggle air raid siren.
"C'mere," Sirius said, resting his hand on Remus' shoulder. He swayed again, then ducked in for a kiss; it was warm and soft and perfect, just a slow brush of lips and Sirius' thumb touching the skin above Remus' collar, and then it was over, Sirius huffing out a quiet breath against Remus' jaw before turning and bellowing for someone to get him another drink.
Remus didn't bother wishing for the floor to swallow him whole; he'd never been that lucky in all his life. His face was uncomfortably hot when he glanced around the room, but no one seemed to be paying him any mind. Except James, who was smiling in a way that could only be considered smug.
+
Remus woke to James looming over him with a plate of kippers and a dangerous gleam in his eye.
"Bloody hell," Remus snapped, rubbing his hand over his face. It was half eight if it was anything. Remus drank enough last night to drown a troll, and the kippers smelled absolutely foul. "Are you mad?"
"No more than usual." James peered at the interior of Remus' bed, then favoured Remus with a sharp frown. "Where's Sirius?"
"Haven't the foggiest," Remus said, mostly to his pillow. Then he thought about it, and sat up with a tired grunt. "Why would he be in here?"
James made a gesture so crude it would've curled McGonagall's hair.
"You are mad," Remus said, kicking his foot until he connected with James' hip.
James just shrugged, smiling around a mouthful of kippers like he knew something Remus did not. Remus considered what little he remembered from last night, but he didn't come up with anything out of the ordinary -- just liquor and food and laughter, and a bit of dancing, once someone found something besides Celestina Warbeck on the Wireless. Gudgeon had passed out on the stairs, and several people were sick on the potted sneezewort by the portrait hole. There'd also been some kissing, no thanks to Lily Evans.
"Is this about the mistletoe?" Remus asked, wincing as his head began to throb. "You've no room to talk, the way you two were carrying on."
"We were just taking the piss."
"And we were just trying to escape your girlfriend's Herbology experiment."
"He brought you upstairs," James said, licking grease from his fingers.
Remus remembered that fairly well -- Sirius standing behind him, one hand cradling his elbow, the other warm and solid at the small of his back. Sirius had kissed his forehead before steering him into the bed, but Remus hadn't bothered to dwell on it. I couldn't have meant anything, not when Sirius had been completely rat-arsed. "Well, he didn't stay. Have you lost him?"
"Apparently." James popped the last of the kippers into his mouth, then set the dirty plate on Remus' bedside table. "If he's naked in the Great Hall again, I'll kill him with my bare hands."
"You'll have to queue behind McGonagall," Remus muttered. He slouched back into his pillows and threw his arm over his eyes. "Did you check the wardrobe? He sometimes goes dog after a rough night. He swears Padfoot doesn't get hangovers."
He rolled over as James walked away, pulling his blanket over his head just as the wardrobe's doors squeaked and James said, "Get up, you wanker. You're putting dog hair on my Quidditch kit."
+
"Did Gudgeon really shag McKinnon last night?" Sirius asked, sprawled out across his bed. He had the latest issue of Martin Miggs open in front of him, but he didn't really seem to be reading it. "On the bloody stairs?"
"Yes," James said.
Peter huffed loudly. "Don't remind me. I could've lived without seeing Gudgeon's knob just before bed."
"Had good dreams, did you?" Sirius asked.
"Rictusempra," Peter replied, without really waving his wand. Sirius dodged it by rolling onto the floor; he barked out a short laugh as the Martin Miggs began to flop around on the bed.
James sat up from the pillows piled at the head of his bed, straightening his glasses with a sigh. "I was thinking -- "
"Careful with that," Sirius murmured.
"Wanker." James tossed an old and much-abused copy of Quidditch Monthly at Sirius' head. "I was thinking about some supper. Anyone with me? Moony?"
"No thanks," Remus said, wrinkling his nose. His stomach was in a bit of a snit; he opened a box of Ice Mice an hour ago and accidentally eaten twelve.
"Peter?"
"I reckon I could eat," Peter said. He slid off his bed and followed James to the door. "You coming, Sirius?"
Sirius got to his feet, shaking his head as he dusted himself off. "I'm good." He shifted into Padfoot, then made a soft noise -- whuff -- and jumped onto Remus' bed.
Remus shifted to make room for him, and ignored the amused look James gave him as he headed out the door.
+
"This is all your fault," Remus complained, pinching James in the side. He didn't much care for broom cupboards as a general rule -- which was unfortunate, considering how much time he seemed to spend in them -- but this one was particularly small and dark. It was also terribly dirty; Remus was sure he had cobwebs in his hair.
"I suppose it is, at that," James said agreeably. "I never should've given Sirius the important bits." He leaned closer to the door, jostling into Remus' hip as he rested his hand on the dusty wood. "It's a good thing he's pretty. He certainly can't walk and think at the same time."
"That's not what I meant."
"You don't think Sirius is pretty?"
"I meant," Remus said quickly, because this conversation wasn't going anywhere he cared to visit, now or ever, "that we wouldn't be in this sodding cupboard at all if you hadn't decided to put Stinkpellets in the dungeons for no reason."
James snorted under his breath. "You don't need a reason to put Stinkpellets in the dungeons."
"Yes, but the school is on holiday." Remus shifted to one side as best he could, away from a rolled tapestry that was buzzing in an alarming fashion. "Half of Slytherin has gone home."
"Which means, the other half will get twice as much stink."
"That's not how it works."
James snorted again, then wrinkled his nose, rubbing at it like it was itching with dust. Served him right. "Budge over, will you? You're breathing right down my neck."
"Where do you want me to go?" Remus asked. As it was, he had one armed draped over a broken goblin statuette, and his feet were wedged between two boxes of rags. "I've a mop handle half up my arse as it is."
James snickered loudly -- because he was a child, or because he'd taken too many Bludgers to the head, Remus didn't care to sort it out just now -- his shoulders shaking so hard it pushed Remus back into the stack of portraits propped against the wall. There was a shuffling noise outside the door, which shut him up for a full three seconds, but then he was at it again, laughing so hard he was gasping for air, and he was moving, elbowing Remus' side and squashing Remus' toes as he turned around.
"Sirius," James began, his voice bright and sly at once, but Remus waved him off with a heavy sigh.
"Piss off."
"He fancies you, you know."
Remus sighed again, rubbing his hand over his burning cheeks. "That's not funny."
"I'm not being funny."
"Oh, for -- open the door, Prongs. It's been thirty minutes. Filch must've buggered off by now."
"Moony," James said, tugging on Remus' sleeve. He cocked his head to the side; his hair was an absolute riot, and his face was sallow in the yellowish light from his wand. "Look, he fancies you, and you fancy him. I just think you two should go off and -- you know," he paused and waved his hand around uncertainly, "do whatever two blokes do when they fancy each other."
The problem with James was, he was never serious, except for when he was. "I never said I fancied him."
"Your face says it," James insisted. "It's been saying it, since -- oh, I don't know. Fifth year, maybe."
Remus leaned back a little, letting his head rest against the first portrait in the queue; the fellow inside it cleared his throat rudely, and Remus rapped it with his wand. "I don't want to talk about it."
"All right, all right. I'm not -- "
The door jerked open with a mournful creak, hard enough that James went arse over teakettle into the hall. He was still holding Remus' sleeve, so he dragged Remus along for the ride in a confused tangle of arms and legs and wands; once Remus could sort up from down again, he found Peter standing over them, the Map in his hands and a rather hunted look on his face.
"I, um -- if you lot are done snogging, Sirius needs some help with that tetchy suit of armour on the third floor."
+
The sad part was, Remus really should've known better. James hadn't mentioned it for two days, but that didn't mean he'd forgotten about it. In fact, James was often at his most dangerous when he was quiet; it just meant he was busy cooking up some kind of plot in that daft lump of clay he called a brain.
Sirius disappeared shortly after supper. That should've been Remus' first clue, but Remus rather wasn't paying attention. He was exhausted from a long holiday of drinking and pranking and staying up all hours, and he let himself get distracted by James and Peter, who started a glorious row over some minutia in the rules of Gobstones that they probably didn't care about in the first place, except that Peter was right because he was captain of the Gobstones Team, and James was right by virtue of being James. Remus abandoned their dormitory about ten minutes in, mainly because he couldn't hold with the noise, and made his way down to the fifth-year landing, where a window seat was set into the wall.
He didn't expect to find Sirius there, dozing with his neck at an uncomfortable angle, his head tipped against the foggy pane. He studied Sirius for a moment -- the perfect line of his nose, the soft swell of his lower lip -- then turned with the idea of retreating to the common room, startling when Sirius caught him by the arm.
"Sorry," Remus said quietly. "I didn't mean to wake you."
Sirius slid his hand down to Remus' wrist, brushing his thumb over the thrum of Remus' pulse. "There's plenty of room."
"How long have you been down here?"
"Long enough that I've got a knot in my spine." Sirius sat up a little, rolling his shoulders and neck. "I was starting to think James was having me on."
Oh, well. Of course. "Look, I'll just -- "
"C'mere," Sirius said, his mouth curving with a smile. He tightened his hold on Remus' wrist and tugged him a little closer. "I'm going to kiss you now. After, if you're still sore at James for telling me, I'll let you go. I'll even hold him down for you."
Remus huffed out a nervous laugh, his stomach twisting into knots, but Sirius leaned in before he could think about pulling away, tugging Remus even closer, curling his other hand in the hem of Remus' jumper. It was as soft and warm as their kiss under the mistletoe, and even more perfect, because a hex wasn't prodding them into it, and all their friends weren't watching.
"Well?" Sirius asked, his mouth moving against Remus' jaw. "You still want to murder James?"
Remus wrapped his arm around Sirius' neck. "A little, but it can wait. I'm busy at the moment."
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Thank you so much!
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Yay happy Marauders! This is lovely.
And Lily, too.
re: A Short Summary ...