Title: Too Much To Ask
Pairings: James/Lilly, hintings of James/Sirius, insinuated Remus/Sirius, hintings of unrequited Remus/Lilly.
Rating: Barely R. For language & insinuation, mostly.
Word Count: 398
Disclaimer: Can be found at the bottom of my userinfo. However, just to re-iterate: I own nothing you recognize and am not making any money off of the following.
Author's Notes: I figured I should start putting this crap in front of the fic. For whatever reason. I'm sure it's just polite. School-era. 7th year. Right after NEWTS. That's all I'll give you.
It was the last night before they left Hogwarts forever. It was only appropriate they get entirely, shamefully pissed.
Peter had been passed out and snoring softly for almost an hour—a right pathetic sight. If Remus were able to stay awake and coherent this long, anyone could. Perhaps NEWTS had hit Messr Wormtail harder than he'd let on.
James sat next to Sirius, looking longingly at the door, a half-empty bottle of Ogden’s in hand, pining after his flame-haired flower girl like a starry-eyed fourth year on the only night they hadn't been together for the past two weeks. Remus almost felt sorry for the lad.
Sirius stole the bottle from James with a withering glare and a snort of derision. Merlin’s arse, thought Remus, as his friend tossed back a healthy swig of amber liquid; this was not going the way he’d hoped.
He’d imagined ribbing and laughter and, just maybe, drunk enough friends that would allow him to break out the gramophone and big band records he’d dragged with him to his final year at Hogwarts. Was that so much to ask for? With James—once the playboy, the man about town who could make the most bashful of Hufflepuffs, most unapproachable of Ravenclaws, most ruthless of Slytherins (not to mention the most righteous of Gryffindors) soak her panties with a single look—and his Lilly—lovely Lilly with her soft smiles and her sparkling wit and her emerald gaze that stared right through to the heart of him, past the scars and the shyness and the monster lurking just below the surface—talking every day about the M-word that Sirius had forbidden Remus to speak aloud. With Peter becoming more and more withdrawn and panicky and so unlike the boy he’d become friends with seven years ago…it was really starting to scare him; he was, frankly, surprised Peter had accepted the evening’s invitation. And Sirius. Sirius was becoming more brusque and whiny and needy and…so angry. Remus winced as he shifted positions next to Messrs Padfoot and Prongs on the floor of the Shrieking Shack; his entire body hurt. Finger-shaped bruises marked his wrists, collar bones, ribs…hips.
No, thought Remus. A night spent with one’s best mates toasting the end of an era wasn’t much to ask for at all. Not when everything he knew was falling apart right in front of him.
As always, comments are love.
Funny. I never used to like the Marauders, let alone read or write them. Look what fandom's done to me: I can't get the buggers out of my brain.
More to come of the soon.
I feel like I should be posting more than just fic in here, y'know, stuff that happens outside the realm of contemplating what the fuck happens to these characters when we walk away from the story. But I'm always working on fic. Or so it would seem.