Chapter Text
It takes a surprisingly long time (like, about a month, which is long by their standards) for them to realize that they all love you.
Each of them knows individually within a day, of course.
James is quick to be open about it, waxing poetic about every insignificant feature on your body and of your personality, and Peter readily agrees.
Sirius just knows that he wants to bother you more than he wants to bother anyone else; at Hogwarts age, he’s kind of like a little kid who wants to pull his crush’s hair. Except instead of pulling your hair, he wants to prank the ever-loving hippogriffs out of you.
Remus is quite enamored, but hearing James say that he loves you, he becomes self conscious and assumes that you deserve someone like James much more than someone like him. So he admires you silently.
But it all comes to a head one day when Sirius arrives at breakfast late, informing the others that Prewett is walking you to the Great Hall. “So, how do we destroy him?”
It happens to be getting close to a full moon, so Remus is quick to answer, “Depends on if they’re holding hands. If not, dung bomb in his trunk. If yes, dangle him from a goalpost on the Quidditch pitch and leave him there until someone finds him; no team practices on Tuesdays, and it rains tonight.”
James realizes, as the conversation continues. “Hang on. Are we all in love with the same person? Can I get a show of hands?” He raises his own hand. Peter raises his hand at the same time. Sirius throws his hand up almost impatiently, while biting into an apple. Remus grudgingly raises his hand only to shoulder level and then drops it to the table again quickly. He is blushing profusely. “Alright. That changes things a bit.”
“Can we focus on Prewett, now?”
“Swallow the apple before you talk, Sirius. Merlin, that’s disgusting.”
Once they all know that they have the same crush, they have to hash out the logistics.
Peter likes following you, watching you, collecting your trash and things you leave behind.
James and Sirius like to have your attention.
Sirius and Remus like to make sure nobody else has your attention.
James will go completely up in arms if anyone has anything bad to say about you- let alone to you.
And Remus will get quite protective if you injure yourself in the slightest way.
They get fairly organized about it.
James and Sirius do most of the talking to you and walking with you, ingratiating as they can be.
“Here, Wormy; a bottle cap from her pumpkin juice. You can add it to your shrine.”
They ensure that you have a positive stance on werewolves, to ease Remus’s worries.
Peter follows you and (per Sirius’s and Remus’s request) takes notes on who you talk to, who you touch, who talks to and touches you.
“Prewett cannot take a hint.”
“Goalpost again?”
“I was thinking the Black Lake.”
“Have some chocolate, Moony; you’re getting murderous again. And anyway, the merfolk would rat us out.”
Remus is placed in charge of isolating you socially. The others have a hand in it, but he’s the best at getting away with the more drastic moves.
He and Peter also sit with you during Quidditch matches, seeing as James and Sirius are otherwise occupied at that time.
They’re both so funny and kind, and you don’t notice how Remus shoots threatening looks at anyone who tries to sit nearby.
“You. Smell. So good,” Peter says earnestly at one point, which is kind of odd, but whatever; he’s not actively sniffing you, so it’s fine.
Behind you, Remus is aggressively mouthing, “What was that?! That’s so weird!”
Gradually, you start hanging out with all of them, at once and separately.
Sirius is open and casual about his jealous tendencies, and you find yourself gradually desensitized.
“Yeah, if Macmillan talks to you again, I’m gonna tie him to a sleeping werewolf with his own shoelace and let nature take its course. Pass the toast.”
One day Peter offers you a hair tie and you’re pretty sure it’s yours. Or was yours, months ago.
And James seems to have detention every night because he’s always getting into fights with people who are even slightly rude to you.
“Well, a hero’s work is never done.”
You’re pretty sure this is all abnormal, but acknowledging it feels like it would make things worse. And they’re fun to be around, as long as you don’t think about it too much.
And suffice to to say, no one else hangs out with you anymore.
After Hogwarts, the choice is either to agree to move in with them or to deal with them regularly breaking into your house:
You’ll wake up and there’s a large, black dog lying across your bed, and Peter is wandering your room smelling stuff and pocketing used floss, and then in the kitchen Remus is making breakfast and James is at the table, reading the Daily Prophet.
“It’s about time you wake up,” James comments as Sirius turns back into a human right behind you and passes you to sit at the table with James. “Remus was hoping you’d be awake to watch him cook, but he’s almost done now.”
“How’d you get in?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Child’s play.”
“Would you care for a cinnamon roll?”