I own none of these characters. They belong to JKR and WB; I merely play around with them for my own enjoyment. Thanks too, to the great playwright William Shakespeare and to the host of spin off films his toils have spawned, which have inspired much of this fic’s content. Also to Wilde, to which I owe Remus’ incredible explanation of his horrid hangover and Massive by Julia Bell for her gorgeous canine simile which slipped in unawares. Enjoy.
“The course of true love never did run smooth.” “ William Shakespeare.
Bardolatry, that’s what Remus called it.
Worship of Shakespeare was what it was.
Sirius called it an unhealthy obsession.
“Are you awake, Moony?” he called to the closed velvet curtains directly adjacent to his identically formed drapery.
“Half sleep, half waking,” began Remus, as the first quote of the day escaped his mumbling lips.
“Don’t want to get up either?” Sirius suggested, surprised that he had actually been able to decipher Remus’ Elizabethan chattering, especially as early in the morning as it was. Darkness still loomed on the outside sky and none of the other students were stirring.
James groaned slightly, as Remus’ and Sirius’ mild banter awoke him from a vivid dream. Peter continued to snore soundly.
As funny as his friends might have found Remus’ Muggle orientated hobby, it hadn’t stopped Sirius asking to borrow the complete works recently, apparently to find out what ‘all the fuss was about.’ Remus had begrudgingly agreed; he hoped it wouldn’t take too long for Sirius to realise that he hated reading, and that Remus’ book would make him feel no different towards classic literature. Unbeknown to Remus, Sirius often took to flicking through his rental, if only to steal a familiar odour, which he knew belonged to its strikingly attractive, studious owner.
Sirius eventually managed to drag himself out from underneath the comforting duvet and decided that now he was up, the rest of his friends ought to be too.
“Wake up, then,” he demanded, shaking each of his comrades in turn as he passed by their beds. “One more exam to go, and then we’re free! C’mon guys! Get up! Let's go!”
Remus opened his eyes with every intention of telling Sirius exactly where he could go, but shut them again exceptionally quickly, as Sirius’ semi naked form greeted his first sight of the day. Sirius often took to displaying his perfect torso around the bedroom early in the morning, but the sight still gave Remus shivering tingles.
Muttering under his breath, James’ feet escaped his covers and dropped down onto the cold and hard wooden floor. “F….” he began. “Sirius it’s 7 o’clock! Why are we getting up now?”
“Oh, Prongs, so naïve of a morning,” Sirius complimented. “We have to go and get those things for that thing tonight, remember?”
James, it appeared, suddenly understood what Sirius was babbling about as he hurriedly pulled on a pair of trousers and baggy t-shirt. Remus, however was no more clued up on what was going on, though as far as he was concerned, he wasn’t directly involved and so could spend a little more time tucked up tightly in his warm nightly cocoon, until it was at least light outside.
He heard the two boys leave the room, as the doors clasp snapped behind their departure, but was soon back into a serene slumber destined for at least another half an hour.
When Sirius and James finally returned -the latter’s Invisibility Cloak in tow- Remus and Peter were both up and dressed, devising small tests for one another, in practice for the forthcoming final.
“Where have you been?” Peter rose. He hadn’t seen them leave but he was eager to know why they weren’t around as he woke.
James and Sirius tapped their noses accordingly, bundling a large package underneath James’ canopy. Neither of the other two Marauders dared to explore its contents. James and Sirius didn’t keep secrets well anyway, so they were bound to find out all in due course.
Wiping his sweat soaked brow with his sleeve, Sirius rested his weight upon Remus’ shoulder. “Breakfast?” Remus suggested, addressing his other comrades in the process. Sirius canine-like lick was a good enough answer.
“Well that wasn’t too bad was it?” Sirius stipulated, as the four pals left the Great Hall fresh from their closing Transfiguration test. “I’ve scored at least an E, for sure.”
Remus found the exam reasonably trouble-free, he did well in McGonagall’s lesson, though he was without the obvious ‘one-up’ that the rest of his group had mastered.
“It was alright," moaned Peter, dragging his school bag across the ground, as the troupe walked back up to Gryffindor tower. “Except I couldn’t turn my button back to a beetle and my rat left a whisker behind when I tried to Vanish it.”
“You couldn’t Vanish a rat?” Sirius joked, as he muttered the house’s password to the Fat Lady who immediately swung open her hole, still engrossed in conversation with the jungle explorer in the picture opposite. “Do you want me to help you practice?” He and James laughed, but Remus elbowed Sirius softly in the ribs, as if to suggest that the teases on Peter’s expense cease soon.
The youths dropped their sacks swiftly onto their respective beds and once again made their way out to the regular haunt under the shady tree opposite the lake. Remus lucidly remembered the taunting antics that had occurred at that very spot the previous day. He hadn’t tried to intercede.
Sliding down the rough bark of the stump, Sirius spread his legs out in front of his body in an overly relaxed way. James had the generous package inside his robes and on the command of a suggestive wink from Sirius began to unwrap the string, which bound the packet.
Four decent sized Firewhisky bottles tumbled from the wrapping and stood themselves perfectly upright in a row.
“Where are they from?” Remus edgily enquired, as Sirius waved his wand over the quartet of bottles, causing their intricate caps to pop off expertly.
“Does it matter where they’re from?” James answered cheekily, taking a swig of the fizzy liquid. “Point is we’ve got ‘em. Come on Moony, I’ll bet the strongest drink you’ve ever had is a Butterbeer. Loosen up! The OWL’s are over!”
Remus hastily took his bottle and put it to his lips, drawing his head back.
When the bottle returned to the ground, over half the drink was gone.
Remus hiccupped quietly, as Sirius and James’ eyes boggled. Peter was trying to bewitch his phial to dance across the floor but as James turned to stare, he hurriedly stopped the magical movement and took a large gulp of his draught.
Remus had discovered alcohol and it made him feel funny. Not a bad funny. Not a good funny. Just funny. He’d finished his own helping and was taking subtle sips of James’ whenever his back was turned.
Sirius was watching him discreetly, slightly worried at the prospective consequences that could follow with an undignified, somewhat tipsy Remus.
As his friend’s hand once again reached over to the unattended bottle, Sirius had to intervene. He pulled Remus’ hand away, however, not realising his strength, (or perhaps not realising Remus’ recent lack of co-ordination and balance), sent the two of them toppling backwards.
James had been watching Lily intently “ she was sat on the other side of the lake as usual, surrounded by her familiar group of friends “ but his concentration became fairly disrupted by the sudden commotion that had arisen behind him.
Remus and Sirius were still lying in the positions, which the fall had granted them, facing one another.
James sensed that he and Peter would be intruding on a rather private moment if they stayed around any longer.
“Come on, Wormtail,” he said. “Let us descend upon the love of my life.”
Peter guessed this to mean another pester of Lily, who, poor girl, was now so sick of James’ insistent bothering, that any kind of mutual relationship between the two of them seemed very far off, but he didn’t understand why they were going now and without Remus and Sirius.
Nevertheless, they left.
Remus was tittering uncontrollably, his body vibrating with amusement. Sirius smiled as the intoxicated sport of finding humour in anything began to be played by the elevated Remus.
“I feel all warm,” Remus stated, flicking his delightful fringe back behind his ear. “Is it always like this?”
“It takes a while to settle,” Sirius answered, talking like a connoisseur, as if the spirit was a dog, folded up in a basket, twitching before it slept.
“You get used to it.”
Remus suspected that the Black’s ‘pure blood mania’ had driven Sirius to dabble in the delights of the dram on many an occasion.
“You’re funny, Sirius,” Remus exclaimed in a highly childish manner, throwing his arm around Sirius’ neck. “Really funny.” Sirius accepted the strange sense of gratitude gratefully. “Uh, thanks,” he answered confusedly.
Remus began to grasp Sirius’ hair lightly, pulling the handsome boy closer to his face. His breath was warm against Sirius’ cheek, with just the faint aroma of the deeply regretted drink lingering in the wake of every outtake of air he exhaled.
The liquorish demon grasped at Remus’ conscience. Feelings he had tried to bury deep beneath his casing rose dangerously near to the surface. Remus could feel forbidden words struggling free of his protective chains.
“I love you, Sirius,” he confessed, in such a happy-go-lucky manner, it was difficult to tell if the revelation was sincere.
The regular Remus that was now hidden beneath a layer of the earlier sinful cocktail collapsed in shame. The uninhibited Remus was undeterred.
His ample lips parted, as they seemed to almost run towards Sirius’ match. He felt as though his heart had jumped into his neck, a large lump rising from his stomach to his throat.
Unfortunately it wasn’t his heart.
“So….” James interrogated. “Was your date as good as mine?” Sirius raised one eyebrow bemusedly. “ You know full well it wasn’t a date, Prongs,” he replied condescendingly. Pointing to a small scarlet twinge across James’ cheek, he added, “ You were there for the most part, but when you left, nothing special happened. However, considering that Remus didn’t slap me at the end of it, I’d say it went a little better than yours.”
“Did you kiss?” James puckered his lips making lovey dovey noises while parading around the common room.
Sirius groaned. He wasn’t going to drag himself through the ordeal of denial again, as it was pretty clear that James was aware of Sirius’ fond feelings for their moon affected buddy. “No, we didn’t kiss,” he replied. A little too sadly, James didn’t wonder.
“Awww, poor ickle Padfoot. Why not?” he mocked, though Sirius knew he was still intent on getting the answer.
“Were you afraid that it would be so knee tremblingly romantic, but he wouldn’t remember a thing in the morning?”
Sirius scoffed. Hogwarts leading Casanova was passing him, Sirius Black, king of cool, suggestions on his love life.
“I think the projectile vomiting had something to do with it,” he replied sarcastically. “He slurred a few idealistic phrases towards me, as usual, then…. well, then he threw up.”
James pulled a face in disgust. “Bleurgh,” he announced. “I mean, Lily’s always threatening to be sick whenever I’m around, but she never actually fulfils her menace.” He snorted.
Sirius threw a cushion at James, which ricocheted off his head, almost as if an Imperturbable Charm had been placed in it’s surrounding area. “Ha, bloody, ha,” he retorted, as Remus entered the room, his head hung low, neck buried far into his jumper. “Here he comes, Prongs,” Sirius warned. “So you better shut up or there’ll be some locked horns between us tonight. And I don’t mean hypothetically.”
The boys rose up to greet their pale and weary friend.
“Morning,” James introduced, far too cheerily. Remus grunted. “Mmmm. Morning.”
“Good night?”
“No,” Remus answered bluntly, but seeing Sirius standing next to James, he managed a slight grin. “I’ve discovered that alcohol, taken in sufficient quantities, can produce all the effects of drunkenness,” he jested.
Some effect, thought Sirius. My shoes are gonna reek for weeks. He joined in the joke all the same, feinting a certain air of amusement, while maintaining his eye contact with Remus.
Remus' thoughts returned to his vivid flashbacks of the previous evening. He was reminded by the apparent comedic aspect of Shakespeare’s Scottish tragedy. “It provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance.” He really had performed last night. Though he’d rather forget, he recalled his daft attempts to seduce Sirius, soon hindered by his charming upchuck reflex.
He buried his face further into the fabric folds of his collar.
“Cheer up, Moony,” Sirius affirmed. “We’re going home next week. Come on Remus, turn that frown upside down.” He gave a toothy beam towards Remus, who raised his head a little higher above his neckline.
Remus was glad that Sirius hadn’t taken his infantile actions the wrong way. Who knew what he would have done if Sirius had stopped talking to him? One thing was for sure; Remus would never have a drink again.
“Feeling alright?” Peter wondered, addressing Remus with his mild concern, as he came down the stairs and noticed Remus’ deadly white face.
“Bit peaky,” replied James. “What he wants is a hair of the dog that bit him.” Sirius and Remus gulped in unison, though ostensibly not for the same reason. James couldn’t possibly have heard about what happened, could he? Remus considered worriedly. Sirius had other thoughts.
“We haven’t any left,” he expressed. “He’ll have to live with it.”
Hair of the dog, Remus contemplated. A drink for the drink. Of course! He let out a deep sigh of relief.
James smiled a knowing smile.
The following week rushed by, none of the teachers had the malice to set any homework, as the OWL’s had been pretty toiling, and the work in lessons was pretty loose. Finally the leaving feast came back around. Slytherin won the House Cup for the second year running, Sirius groaned as Regulus jumped and squealed in delight along with the rest of his housemates. He had been poring over Remus’ copy of Shakespeare, turning the pages at a little too fast a speed to convince Remus that he was taking in any of the content, but he appeared to be scribbling some kind of notes nevertheless.
All too soon, the students were making their way back to the Hogsmeade station, baggage and beasts in tow. The four Marauders took their seats in the carriage furthest to the back of the train and settled their bags onto the overhead racks.
The train lolled into motion as the castle and station drew further out of sight, surrounded by the smoke of the train and the summery mist in the sky.
“Here’s your book, Moony,” Sirius said, motioning to the great tome underneath his elbow, as the rhythmic chug of the trains wheels set into a steady beat. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he continued, making no informant effort to reveal where or what he was setting off to do.
Remus couldn’t stay too long chatting either. He ought to be up in the Prefect carriage with other members of the elitist group, but he’d much rather have stayed with his real friends, so settled into his seat all the same. He took the book from under Sirius’ arm, as the carefree shaggy haired boy made to leave the carriage momentarily.
He couldn’t wait to read it again. To see the words, to touch the pages, to smell the binding.
Keen to reacquaint himself with his favourite collection, Remus made to draw the volume up to his face.
A crumpled piece of parchment protruded from its edge.
Remus removed the note and read:
Moony,
Sorry I kept your book for so long. It’s alright isn’t it? Once you get past the thee’s, thou’s and all that hoopla of course.
Remus laughed. He doubted whether Sirius had got any further than the accompanying illustrations.
“What is it?” James asked, leaning across the compartment, in the hope of gaining a better view of Remus’ privies. Quick off the mark, Remus turned the paper further to his body, shrouding his hand over the smudged blue ink. He read on:
Tell James to stop being nosy.
It seemed this letter-writing Sirius was telepathic.
Meet me in the corridor.
James read that part. He began to get up.
Just you. I’ll be waiting.
Padfoot.
James sank back down into his seat, suddenly aware of something that Remus clearly wasn’t.
“What’s going on?” Peter queried. “Is Sirius planning something?” His eyes lit up like a child at Christmas.
“No,” Remus heard James reply as he deposited the book (and note) into his bag and wandered out into the space beyond the carriages. He didn’t wait around to hear the rest of James’ explanation. He wasn’t sure what was going on himself.
“BOO!” A voice crept up behind Remus, who jumped, shrieking lightly.
“Shhhh!” chortled Sirius, as he made himself known. “It’s only me, silly!” Still giggling, he pulled Remus into the small space by the door. If he was ever going to make Remus his, the chance should be taken sooner, rather than later. After all: ‘who could refrain that had a heart to love? And in that heart courage to make love known?’ Whoa. Sirius shook his head. He’d actually remembered a line from the book he’d been borrowing for such a long period. He’d have to tell Remus the next time they had a proper conversation, if Remus was ever to speak to him again that was, after the passionate mission, which Sirius was about to embark upon.
“So…” he started, taking Remus’ hands in his with a swift and confident gesture. “Will you be my Juliet?”
Remus smiled.
“Are you sure you read that book?” he implored.
“Yeah,” answered Sirius. “It was good, the pictures were nice.”
“Juliet dies,” Remus explained, leaving Sirius, for once, lost for words.
“Oh,” he mustered. “Right.”
“Its complicated,” Remus went on. “She takes his kind of potion thing to make her appear dead, but Romeo walks in and thinks she’s really gone, so he commits suicide. When Juliet wakes up and sees Romeo’s cold, lifeless body, she reaches for his dagger and kills herself. It’s a bit sad really.”
“Nice,” said Sirius, fascinated by Remus’ description of the star- crossed lovers demise. He struggled to remember another of Shakespeare’s leading ladies. Remus’ guess that Sirius hadn’t actually read the book was regrettably all too correct.
“My D-D-Desdemona then?”
A small frown began to adorn Remus’ forehead. He didn’t mention that it was a little strange to be the woman in these situations. He knew Sirius meant well. Surely it was a happy ending for the both of them, but despite apparently ‘studying’ Remus’ collective works, Sirius was still quite Shakespeare clueless.
“Same fate, I’m afraid,” he replied. “Her husband smothers her in a jealous rage. Friendly sort of chap.”
Sirius looked flustered. He was running out of romantic pairings.
The duo locked eyes for a moment, looking away sharply and abashedly, as their bewitching souls explored each other.
When Remus looked up again, Sirius was staring right at him, grinning broadly.
“My Remus?”
His hand was still holding Remus’ but he linked their fingers together tightly, eagerly anticipating his companion’s reaction. It was so well thought up that Remus couldn’t possibly find anything to contradict. Could he?
“What happens to him in the end?” Remus innocently addressed, though Sirius noticed a devilish twinkle in his eye.
“This.” He wrapped his arms around Remus’ undulating body, pulling him into a tight embrace. Kissing his warm lips softly, he licked Remus’ tongue playfully, as the pair began to discover each other’s mouths.
A steady beat set off to pulse within his now, fairly turgid trouser leg.
Remus ran his fingers up and down the small of Sirius’ spine, sending climatic tingles from Sirius’ head right down to his toes.
If this is how all Sirius’ stories end, Remus thought, as Sirius hands danced through his hair. I’d give up the Shakespeare forever.