Summary: Sirius gets an idea and Remus gets a gift.
Tuesday 27th December 1971
With Boxing Day over and done with, Remus and Sirius found themselves caught in those strange nowhere days between Christmas day and New Year's Day, as they awaited their friends' return. Sirius was keen to plan their revenge on Snape - in fact, he was no longer interested in attacking all of the Slytherin's anymore, wanting to focus his energies on one single nemesis.
Remus was inclined to agree. He had been too furious with Snape to think clearly about it for the past few weeks. He couldn't shake the feeling that Severus had somehow hit upon the exact hex that would cause Remus the most upset. He didn't know quite how the Slytherin boy had managed it - and it was very likely just a clever guess - but he didn't care.
"We should just get James' cloak, follow him around 'til he's alone, then beat the shit out of him." Remus growled, as they sat in the empty common room one evening. He gripped the arm of the settee as he said this, feeling the leather creak under his grasp. It was getting close to the full moon and his temper was closer to the surface than usual.
"Now, now, Lupin," Sirius chastised smoothly, carrying a pile of books he'd brought from the library. "You're thinking like a muggle. If we're going to get him, we're going to get him with magic."
"Not more books." Remus whined, as Sirius plopped down beside him, an enormous tome in his arms. He opened it, and it was so big that the cover rested across both of their skinny legs.
"Yes, more books." Sirius replied, breezily. "You'll love them once you get to know them, I promise."
Remus wasn't so sure about that. It was true, he'd grown to quite like their secret study sessions, and had been privately amazed at the amount he had learnt. But listening to Sirius was one thing - sitting down alone and staring at a block of text was another thing altogether. Still, Sirius kept promising him that he was getting closer to a solution.
"So what's this one about?" Remus asked, resigned to his fate. If Sirius wanted to do something, there was very little anyone could do to stop him. You just had to hold on tight until it was over.
"Hexes and jinxes. A lot of them are really complex, though. I mean, we're good - you, me and James, anyway - but I still think we should stick to the basics. Simplicity is key."
"Ok." Remus replied, dully. He still preferred the idea of a surprise beating.
"So I thought we could brainstorm all the stuff we can do, and see if that lends itself to any good jinxes." Sirius continued, undeterred by Remus' reluctance, "So, I'm really good at transfiguration - I got the best marks even after you started catching up."
"Right." Remus agreed,
"And James is a bit better than me at Defence Against the Dark Arts - which you'd think would be helpful when dealing with a slimy creep like Snivellus, but we haven't really learnt any good spells yet, except disarming stuff, and that's no use."
He chewed the nib of his quill, considering. It wasn't a new quill, and left a dark stain on Sirius' bottom lip. Remus didn't say anything. Sirius carried on, "James is good at flying, too, obviously, but I dunno how that's going to be any help. Then there's Pete... good at sneaking around and grunt work, I suppose..."
Remus thought that was rather unfair. Peter was never top of the class like Sirius and James, but he was generally perfectly competent, usually settling for a satisfactory mark. He lacked the competitive edge James and Sirius had, the desire to prove himself. Remus recognised this well enough - it was enough just to be friends with cleverer, more confident people, sometimes. You got a bit of their shine with none of the pressure.
