Disclaimer: If those characters belonged to me, all of my dreams would kind of come true.

Warning: None actually.

Author's Note: Something I wrote a very long time ago and edited yesterday. I hope you'll like it a bit. As always, James is underlined, Sirius is bold, and Remus is writing in italics. – Enjoy.


My name is James Potter, and I am irritated.

We find ourselves in quite a haunting situation, the situation when everything is hanging in thin air, very damn ambiguous.

I know all about how it came to be, and somehow I truly wish this whole mess hadn't started in the first place. Since I made the grave mistake of talking my two very best friends into a kind of date the other day, I have been burdened by having to cope with an uncertain Sirius Black.

And because a whole lesson of silent pondering is really asking too much of my friend, I am now prepared for the next little load of misery.

See? There it is.

I am ruined. I am dead. I will commit suicide.

Welcome to The Sirius Times, we have exciting news.
Our one and only, beloved Mr Sirius Sexy Black is having his weekly suicide day.
Which option will he not give in to this time?

I'm serious!!

I damn well think you are. smirk

Eww I hate you.

Yeah, Pads, love you too.

This is earnest.

Honestly, what's the matter?

Thinking about it now, I think I did everything wrong.

Huh? I thought it went brilliantly!

Yeah, but of course, if you really think about it, it was too brilliant. I must have done something wrong. I must have acted really stupid, or made a complete fool of myself, or seemed dumb, and somehow lost my dignity…

Am I just having this conversation with Sirius Black?
The oh-so-dignified, self-proclaimed prince of Gryffindor and whatsoever else?
The gorgeous and just unique SIRIUS?
The biggest man-whore Hogwarts has ever seen?

Oh, stop it.
I know I did everything wrong.
He's never gonna look at me again, you'll see.

Do I have to understand?

What happened anyway? Neither of you was merciful enough to tell me anything.

Nothing. We kissed. We talked.
I assume I seemed stupid.

Well, but everything seems perfectly right to me, my dear friend.
Plus, he seems to be all over you.

Aw. You just don't understand me.

Well, you could just hand him a little questionnaire.
"Do you want to marry me? Please mark with a cross: 'yes', 'no', 'maybe'"

As soon as we're out of this classroom, I'm going to kill you. And I'll do it real slow.

You wanted my help, remember? Anyway, just suggesting.



Hmph. James?

Hi Moony.

Um, hi.

Well, what is it?

I think I did everything wrong. I must have done awful. I know I can't kiss, and I said stupid things, and wasn't able to answer questions properly.
I failed. I'm sure.

Have mercy! Please, not you too!
Am I local helpline or something?

Why? What's the matter?

You know what?

He thinks he did everything wrong.


I sigh theatrically and shove the piece of parchment documenting our conversation towards Remus. Why not solve the problem?

While he reads it, Moony's lips turn up into the kind of smile that betrays him to be exactly the romantic idiot I always suspected him to be. Then he hands the paper back to me. I pass it on to Sirius.

The latter reacts in exactly the same way. Totally whipped; there's no denying it.

They smile tentatively at each other, ignoring me. Those two are obviously meant to be. And I have proof.

– Fine, all I have to do now is switch places with one of those insufferable lovebirds. I throw a precautionary look at Binns (who is currently busy losing himself in some goblin war … or was it giants?) and tap Remus on the shoulder, in a hopeless attempt of gaining his attention. After a while, he turns to me and I gesture I want to move. Remus nods amusedly and we stand up silently and glide on each other's chairs.

It's as simple as that.

I sit down, smile at all the girls that are watching me and run a hand through my hair to ensure it's still perfect.

Only then do I turn around to look at my friends again. They are holding hands now.

Smiling, I turn back and settle for a nice, long, undisturbed hour of Evans-watching.

– That's how we dispose of dramas in Marauder World.

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