All the Young Dudes ( Sirius' Perspective )

First Year : Twelve

There was plenty to do in preparation for Remus’s birthday, even without throwing a big party. Sirius had to bribe a third-year Hufflepuff into showing him where the kitchens were so that he could give the house elves a detailed request, and he spent a week tracking down every Gryffindor—even the seventh years—to sign a joint birthday card. The most time-consuming part, though, was trying to talk James out of forcing them all to go watch the Gryffindor quidditch practice after lessons.

Sirius liked quidditch—loved it, even—but James was obsessed with it. Every Friday, he dragged his friends down to the pitch to watch the older students darting about on their brooms. Sirius didn’t mind it, much; he liked spending time with James, and it was relaxing to just lean back in the stands and chat. But he didn’t think Remus enjoyed it as much as the rest of them—he always had his nose stuck in a book. So when Sirius discovered that, although their friend’s birthday fell on a Friday, James didn’t see any reason to change their usual plan, he’d had to have a stern conversation and put his foot down.

When the big day finally arrived, Sirius and James woke at the crack of dawn, dragging Peter out of bed. They waited until the sun was just rising before crowding around Lupin. Sirius held up three fingers, mouthing,

1…2….3…

“Happy Birthday, Lupin!” They shouted, leaping onto his bed. Remus woke with a start, sitting up quickly. He smiled at them, yawning as he said,

“Cheers, lads.”

They gave him the full treatment at breakfast, marching in front of him and shooing other students away, blustering,

“Out of the way, please!”

“Birthday boy coming through!”

“Move along, nothing to see here!”

Some of the older students rolled their eyes, but most seemed to find their antics entertaining. It was almost the weekend, and everyone was in a good mood.

At the table, they slapped Remus’s hands away when he reached for the food, insisting on serving him. Peter poured his tea, James loaded up his plate, and Sirius buttered his toast. Remus looked like he wanted to crawl under the table.

“Do you have to?” He groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“Absolutely,” James said.

“Definitely,” Peter nodded.

“Unquestionably,” finished Sirius.

Remus shook his head, blushing hard. But he was smiling as he looked down at his food.

As soon as they’d finished eating, Sirius nodded to Peter and James. The three of them stood in unison, grinning at their anxious friend.

“What?!” He asked, eyes darting about nervously. He tried to stand, but Peter and James each put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down into his seat. Sirius pulled a pitch pipe from his robes with a flourish, smiling wickedly as he blew a long note. Remus shut his eyes, bracing himself…

“Haaaaaaaaaahhh-ppy birthday to you!” They bellowed as loud as they could, “Haaah-ppy birthday to youuuu! Haaaah-ppy birthday dear Reeeeeeeeeee-mus!”