Author's Notes: This is another birthday story, though it's written for CaptainPookey, who requested Remus/Sirius. What I did for this is I took fifteen prompts, then wrote a ficlet around each one's antonym.
Black and White
Prompt: 001 – Glove
Word Count: 550
Sirius decides, after brooding in the boys' dormitory, that Remus owns far too many black and white socks. He supposes that Moony finds them practical, because they are; black and white and the occasional grey match almost anything, if not everything, that one could ever desire to wear. This reasoning is acceptable in part, as Moony is the most reasonable person that he has ever met.
But Sirius also knows that there exists a state of being overly reasonable, and that there are times and places to which reason should not be applied.
Coincidentally, one of them is the footwear of a Hogwarts student. It doesn't matter what socks one wears here, because the robes which are worn as school uniforms are long enough to cover the tops of one's trainers. Trainers which are flush and almost connected with the cuffs of one's trousers. Thus it remains comfortably safe to don whatever socks one pleases, no matter the color or style, because no one will ever see them.
Almost no one, rather. Sirius is certain that Lily desires no one to know she wears mismatched socks on Thursdays, and that one is usually embroidered with flowers and the other with Quaffles. But she doesn't know that he knows this, of course.
Sirius wonders why then, when Lily is so disgustingly prim, Remus refuses to purchase anything more or less than monochromatic. Remus is certainly reasonable—Reasonable Remus, Sirius chuckles—but he is not, in any way, monochromatic. And even when it's a full moon and Sirius is aprowl as a great black dog, there isn't anything about Moony that's black and white.
And so the next evening, (because Saturday is just too far away), Sirius borrows James's cloak and the map that they made so diligently together, and he steals into Hogsmeade, courtesy of the one-eyed witch. It doesn't take him long to decide where he's going; when he reaches this place, he scurries inside, snatches the first trace of bright red that he sees, and leaves a galleon on the countertop. The little silver bell that dangles above the door doesn't even have time to ring.
When he returns, everyone is dining in the Great Hall, which is just as he has predicted—he's come back in time for dessert, as he's too excited to eat much else.
The common room is empty, as is, most especially, the boys' dormitory. (It's always a ghost town during mealtimes.) Sirius carefully folds the cloak (he'll tell James about his excursion later) and stuffs it delicately beneath the bed where he discovered it. Then he pulls a small brown parcel out from inside of his pocket. He tosses it into the air thrice, catching it each time in his palm, and places it onto the pillows of the only bed that's been made.
The next night, Sirius watches carefully as Remus removes his shoes. He goes about the task as if he's exhausted, or otherwise is enjoying the fact that Sirius is hanging in suspense.
Now there's a laugh as James points at Remus's feet. "A bit off-season, Moony, don't you think? Christmas was rather a while ago."
Remus looks at Sirius and rolls his eyes, fighting back a sheepish grin.
When he climbs into bed, he's still wearing candy cane-embroidered socks.