Warning: Boysex that is neither graphic nor fade-to-black. Inanimate objects being too flirtatious for their own good. Gratuitous capitalisation.

For Simone, who is the Remus to my Remus, and deserves many shiny things.


The mirror Remus has hanging beside his bed has got Opinions, and it never fails to spout these at him when he's just innocently combing his hair and whatnot. Sirius had given it to him for a Christmas present, after Charming it to compliment or insult Remus as it feels necessary.

Today it is complimenting him rather overmuch, in Remus's opinion. For example, as he buttons his shirt: "Don't you think you should leave a few more buttons undone? You know what they say: if you've got it--" He threatens it with his wand and it goes mostly quiet, muttering dark things under its breath. He'll have to have a word with Sirius.


"Sirius, I think my mirror is in love with me," says Remus, and Sirius's first impulse is to sit up straight and look all shocked and say have you finally noticed, then?

But that would be Inappropriate, and never let it be said that Sirius Black ever does anything Inappropriate, except for that incurable tendency he has to trick everyone in sight. What Sirius does instead is stay flopped in his large and squashy armchair, limbs flung out wherever they'll fit, and say "Whatever gave you that idea?"


It would probably be incredibly stupid of Remus to explain that the mirror commented on the state of his arse ("perky and inviting") that morning, so instead he shrugs and says "Oh, nothing. It just talks a lot. That's all."

"Moony," says Sirius, as if Remus is very small and has just asked why it is good to not throw oneself down the stairs. "Prongs talks a lot. I talk a lot. Wormtail-- well. You can't shut him up, even if he does only talk about Prongs. I expect the mirror seems loud because you're the quiet one."


"Funny, I was going to say I think it's because you overCharmed it." Remus is looking annoyed, and Sirius wishes there were a Banishing Charm for worry. But of course Remus wouldn't be annoyed at him, and just in case he is, Sirius will explain why he shouldn't be.

"No, dear Moony. That is impossible, and I shall tell you why. It is because I spent a very long time on that mirror--" a hurt look here, directed at Remus from under his lashes-- "and I triple-checked it for accuracy by having Prongs take a look in it. It informed him that he was a scruffy bugger, and ordered him to clean his glasses. As he had just come in from Quidditch practice, his hair was all over the places and his glasses were muddy. So you see, it is a very accurate mirror. You can be sure it has exactly the right kinds of Charms on it." Sirius gives Remus a sharp nod, which gives a visible firmness to his statement.

"Have you got a tic in your neck?" asks Remus, who looks a bit concerned over Sirius's wellbeing. Concern is far better than annoyance-- not that he was annoyed; that would be as impossible as Sirius mis-Charming a mirror-- and Sirius bypasses mild embarrassment completely and goes straight to sympathy-mongering, at which he is fabulous. (He is fabulous at many things, but if we let him get started on that, he'll never shut up.)

"It's nothing," Sirius says nobly, feigning another twitch of his head. "It's likely I just strained something helping you carry your library books up here yesterday. I don't know why you would need thirty; it's not as if you can read more than one at a time. But Moony-- the mirror. Do you like it?" He is definitely not worried. Just...curious. Yes.

"I," begins Remus, but James bursts in at that moment and asks why they are still lounging about when there is breakfast to be eaten. Sirius makes a mental note to let Madam Pomfrey know that James's eyesight has become so tragically poor that he can no longer see when people are having Important Conversations.


"James. Hey, James!" Remus catches James by the elbow as they're leaving Transfiguration, to stop him running ahead to Sirius like he always does. "I've got to ask you something."

"All right," says James, not really looking at him. Remus can tell he'd much rather be off talking to Sirius, and feels guilty for a moment before he remembers that James is his friend, too.

"It's personal. Not something I want people hearing, you know?" Remus ducks into an empty classroom, and James follows. Remus ignores the glance over his shoulder he gives Sirius, and the wave that probably doesn't mean go on without me, I'll get rid of him in a minute.

James folds his arms and leans against the wall in that cool, collected way that makes girls unable to still their beating hearts, unless they have red hair and the initials L.E. "Well, what is it?"

"My mirror is in love with me, and before you begin lecturing me on the Ineffability of Sirius Black--"

"What's Pads got to do with it?" asks James in a way that suggests he has indeed composed several stirring speeches on the Ineffability of Sirius Black. "Did he mention that he tested it on me? It said I was a good and handsome young man, which everyone except my one true love has come to realise. It was very flattering and not at all creepy."

"James, it blows kisses whenever I walk past."

"How can you tell? It hasn't got a mouth."

"Yes it has, you can see it in the curly bits on the frame. I'm telling you, it's mad for me."

James sighs. "All right, if it is mad for you-- and I'm not saying it is, because that would be daft-- then you know what that means, right? Oh, don't give me that look. I know this is very painful for you to discuss and I shouldn't make it harder, et cetera, et cetera. What I am trying to get you to realise is that Sirius is not stupid and he knows exactly what he did to that mirror. I suggest you ask him about it, if you're curious. Yes, I know I interrupted you earlier. Ask him again, then. He spends loads of time in the common room with you, I'm sure you'll get another chance."


There is one last person Remus can talk to, and he's at a library table reading The Care and Feeding of Magical Rats when Remus finds him.

"Remus!" says Peter, immediately laying his book down and focussing all his attention on Remus. "Good to see you. Where are James and Sirius?"

"Probably off snogging themselves in the bathroom mirrors," Remus grumbles, sliding into a chair. "They've been absolutely useless today--" Peter looks shocked, but Remus presses on-- "so maybe you can help me."

"Anything," says Peter, and probably means it. For the second time that day, Remus feels vaguely guilty. He's not sure why-- it's not as if he'd really make Peter do anything.

"My mirror fancies me, and if you laugh I shall--"

"Shan't laugh," says Peter, forcing his face into a serious expression. Remus is grateful for small favours. "By 'my mirror,' do you mean the one Sirius gave you? It's never said anything to me."

"Yes, that mirror, which has said more ridiculous things to me than any girl I've ever met."

"Weren't that many girls, though, were there?" asks Peter. "You haven't got much to compare, since most of them just head straight for James and--"

"Sirius, yes. Could you please refrain from telling me of the glory of James and Sirius? I've heard enough from them about each other today. Look, Sirius asked if I liked the mirror, and before I could think what to say, James came in and distracted him with food."

"Well, do you like it?" asks Peter.

Remus is about to say "I," also for the second time that day, but Sirius chooses that moment to come bounding into the library, earning a reprimand from the librarian and dirty looks from a group of Ravenclaws.


"Moony!" says Sirius, clapping Remus on the shoulder. He's trying to have a conversation with Peter of all people, which Sirius should know is no use unless you want endless flattery. But instead of beginning to extol the wonders of Sirius Black, Peter gathers up his books and scurries out of the library without a backward glance. "What was that about?" Sirius asks. "He hasn't got any classes right now."

"Peter is very good at knowing when people want to be left alone to talk," says Remus pointedly, but for the life of him Sirius can't figure out what the point is. Remus can be so indirect sometimes.

"Who do you want to talk to?" Sirius looks around. "Just point them out to me, and I'll be on my way."

"Git," says Remus. "Sit down." He points at the chair across the table from him.

Sirius pauses for a moment, to make it clear that he is not a dog who can be ordered about, then drops into the chair and sprawls across the table. From this position he can prod Remus if he wants.

"Now, listen to me," Remus says. "I do like the mirror, really. But I'm afraid if things keep on this way, the mirror is going to ask me to be its valentine come February."

Sirius rolls his eyes. "You are being silly, my dear Moony. Of course it's not going to ask you that. I told you, I know exactly how I Charmed it, and I Charmed it perfectly."

"You Charmed it to be a ponce, then."

"Well, yeah. It does take after me, doesn't it?"

Remus goes very silent, and Sirius realises he can't remember if anyone actually got around to telling him certain important things Sirius figured out in sixth year, along with the obvious like "how to turn into a dog with only three other people noticing" and "sending people to stumble upon werewolves is idiotic, and don't give me that look, Pads, you know I'm right." James and Peter had just sort of-- caught on, and Sirius had figured that books-for-brains Remus had, too. But given the open mouth and faintly pink nose Remus now possesses, it's possible he had been too busy reading to notice.


Remus had hauled Sirius out of the library by the scruff of his neck-- metaphorically, anyway, though there may or may not have been threats of terrible hexes involved if Sirius bloody Black did not follow right. This. Instant. They had returned to their room, and Remus had got them both sat on Sirius' bed and ordered him to talk. "It's. It's really not my fault you didn't know," Sirius says, but he doesn't even convince himself.

"Bloody well is. You could have told me."

"And how do you suggest I should have done? Gone up to you one day and said 'Oi, guess what, I like blokes'?"

"That would have been about right, yeah." Remus scrapes his fringe out of his eyes, then puts his head in his hands. "Did you not trust me? Six years I've known you, and you were still afraid of telling me something?" he says from behind his fingers. "I mean, it's all right if you were afraid," he adds quickly. "I don't mean to say-- what I mean is, I don't care if you want to-- to whatever with whoever you want, I just think you should know that I'm about the least frightening person in the world. Most of the time, anyway. And I am your friend."

"'Course I know that. It wasn't fear, exactly. I just-- well, I wasn't afraid." Sirius isn't about to say that what had prevented him from telling Remus outright had more to do with how his hair looked in the sun, or the glint in his eyes before a particularly tricky bit of mischief. He has a pesky habit of being handsome on the occasions Sirius wants to have a Deep and Meaningful Conversation. He is doing it now, in fact.

Remus places his hands on the bed and meets Sirius' gaze, his gentle eyes turned sharp and cunning. "Well, that answers the mirror question, then."

Sirius swallows. "This was about the mirror?"

"In a manner of speaking," says Remus, and kisses him.


There is nothing like kissing your best friend, even if your best friend's never really treated you like his best friend, but things like that aren't important anymore once his tongue is in your mouth and you know he's going to taste the chocolate you're always eating, and you start breathing hard when you realise he doesn't care how you taste because he likes having his tongue in your mouth just that much.

Which is how Remus has come to be shoved back against the pillows with his shirt rucked up to his armpits and Sirius doing his damnedest to draw from his throat every last harsh, panting sound he can make. He pushes Remus's head up and back against the headboard, and kisses a line down his neck to the hollow at the base of his throat, while Remus bites his lips and gasps anyway. Sirius's breath comes fast as if he likes this-- likes pressing his mouth to the ragged scars, and doesn't even mind that Remus's skin is damp with sweat and his jeans are sticking to his legs. What matters is Sirius and his hands and how he's running them down Remus's sides just to make him shiver. What matters is the dragonfire coiled in Remus's belly, awakened by Sirius's chant of Moony, Moony--

There is sweat in his eyes and Sirius's face is a blur and the dragonfire stretches up and out of him and-- oh.


Sirius is blown away by the fact that he, he can do this to Remus-- cause his body to arch into Sirius's hands and his eyes to go wide on a gasp, get him flushed and damp and sighing into his mouth. This power is better than anything his bloodline could give him; this swooping exhilaration is unmatched by flight. He waits for Remus's heartbeat to slow, kissing the fluttering muscles across his belly. This is his chance to say absolutely anything he likes, while Remus is still breathless and limp.

"I'll have to modify that bloody mirror," he murmurs against Remus's ear.

"Yeah?" says Remus, with effort.

"Yeah. It doesn't compliment you nearly enough."

Remus's eyes snap wide open. "I-- I think the mirror is perfect just the way it is, actually."

"Is that so? I seem to remember you had some concerns about it this morning."

"A morning so long ago I barely remember it," says Remus quickly. "The mirror is fine, just fine."

"Well, if you're content with it," says Sirius happily, and tangles his legs around Remus's. He is already planning his next gift, but in order to make Plans with a capital P, he'll have to do some good hard sleeping. And maybe kissing. Remus will understand that last one, he's sure.