the cadence of part time poets

Chapter 50: Game of Détente

Wouldn't it be nice if we were older?
Then we wouldn't have to wait so long;
And wouldn't it be nice to live together,
In the kind of world where we belong?

- "Wouldn't It Be Nice" The Beach Boys, 1966

Friday 18th February 1977

How—oh how—had he failed so spectacularly to learn his lesson? James had repeated it like a mantra their first year; never underestimate a Black. Remus could've socked himself in the face; either he had gotten complacent, or he was still somehow under the impression that Sirius cared less for his own relationships than he did for teasing him for his. He wasn't entirely sure why Sirius' fascination with the sleepy village of Craigtyre had suddenly hit a new height, but if he'd known what it would kick off, he might've been more opposed to the idea of sneaking out.

"I'm telling you," Sirius announced in the middle of their Literacy silent study; "it's a solid plan. There's this pub—Xeno says they'll serve us booze if we don't wear our uniforms, and there's a corner shop! Just think, Lupin—real cigs with real filters, no more hand-rolls!"

Not bothering to take his eyes off his book, Remus lifted an indifferent brow. He still had most of his Embassys leftover from Christmas, courtsey of Tomny, and wasn't all that bothered to get more as long as Xeno was still padding their stash. Clearly Sirius was more desperate.

"Why does it feel like you've suddenly become extra stir-crazy?" James whispered. "Is the end of winter really getting to you that badly?"

"Kenny said 'no parties for no reason'," Sirius grumbled sourly. "Git of a dorm monitor finally agrees to let us throw one in the common room and then goes and ruins it by saying we gotta wait for some tosser's birthday or something."

"It's so he doesn't get in shit," Remus mumbled out of the corner of his mouth.

"That is so boring. Does no one take risks anymore?"

"Does it have to be one of our birthdays?" Peter reasoned. "Why not just find a random kid and throw one for him?"

"Shhh!" Remus hissed, as Professor Bilshen passed by their table, looking down his nose at them sceptically. Only pretending to be engrossed in his school work, Sirius waited until he'd moved on before continuing.

"Tried that. But the next kid in our dorm having a birthday is some puny seventh year named Alfred, and Kenny wouldn't believe that a group of sixth form students would throw a party for someone who looks like he'd cry the moment you held a spliff in front of his nose."

"So naturally we skip town instead," James sniggered.

"Just for the evening," Sirius smirked. "We can go tonight."

"So, what then—" Peter started, "We just walk?"

"Why not?"

"It'll be dark out."

"You have a torch."

"It'll be cold out."

"Bring Moira then—she's always breathing down your neck anyway, maybe that'll keep you warm enough."

"Oh, so it's like a group thing?" James added, sounding even more enthusiastic.

"Small group thing," Sirius clarified. "Bring whoever you want but remember we gotta be stealthy or we'll never make it to Moony's glory hole."

Remus snapped his book shut. "If you ever call it that again, I will dig your eyes out with a grapefruit spoon."

They all started laughing but Peter's guffaw cut through it all and their teacher immediately had him in a verbal chokehold; "Mr. Pettigrew! The thing about silent study—it's supposed to be silent. Do not let me hear you again!"