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"It's too late for this rubbish." James throws his quill down.
"It's due tomorrow," Sirius says, reaching out and pulling the parchment closer. "You've only written one paragraph."
James rolls his eyes. "Are you feeling all right? You know we never finish assignments until breakfast the day they're due."
"There's a fine line between procrastination and dooming yourself."
"Oh, stop." James snatches his essay back. "I'm not doomed. I'm in love."
Sirius snorts and then realizes that James, although grinning, is not laughing. "Are you serious?"
"Dead serious."
"Death threats are a bit much, mate."
"Shut up. I don't think you understand." James fixes him with a clear gaze as he rolls up the parchment. "I'm in love."
"You said that." Against his better judgment, Sirius stows his essay in his bag as well. "Who is it?"
James glances around, then leans forward conspiratorially. "Lily Evans."
"Oh, god, her? That's awful."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, she's always hanging about with Snivellus, for one thing. For another, she…"
"She what?"
Sirius shrugs. "I don't think she likes you much."
"That's because she doesn't know me," James says immediately. "I just have to get her alone, when you lot aren't around to make me look bad."
"Oh, thanks."
"I'm just saying that it's all a matter of circumstance. She's got to see me in a good light." He runs his fingers through his hair. "Do you have any ideas?"
"Just make another Wit-Sharpening potion like you did last week and it'll go great. I'm sure she loves blokes with ground scarab beetles all down the front of their robes."
"If you ever mention—"
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry." But he can't help sniggering. "I guess you could take her to Hogsmeade. There's a new place that just opened. Madam Puddingfoot or something. It's supposed to be very romantic."
James rolls his wand over the tabletop. "Maybe. But if she doesn't even like me—I mean, if she doesn't fancy me at all—how would she say yes?"
"Oh, I've got it—land your broom next to her in the stands after the match next Tuesday. Pull out a rose and tell her 'I might be a Chaser, but you're a Keeper.'"
"That's the worst idea I've ever heard."
"You could just ask her if she wants to ride your broomstick."
James buries his face in his hands. "Shut up," he moans.
"I just can't believe it," Sirius says, shaking his head. "You and Lily Evans. Did you know that you blush when you say her name?"
"I do not."
"You do, you get all flushed and you start smiling!" Sirius points. "Look, your eyes even start twinkling! It's the definition of besotted."
"You're just jealous," James huffs, "because you haven't got anyone to moon over."
"You wish. That sounds pretty defensive to me."
"Hark who's talking," James says, eyebrows raised. "Have you got someone to moon over?"
"No," Sirius says with all the conviction he can muster.
"You're red in the face. I think you're bluffing."
"I am not," Sirius insists. "It's just—very warm in here."
"I'll wager it is," James says, grinning. "It's your turn now. Who is it?"
Sirius presses his lips together. He swears he'll never tell.
"Oh, so I have to guess, do I? Fine. Florence?"
Sirius stays silent.
"Emma Vanity? C'mon, you've got to give me something to work with here. At least tell me when I'm wrong."
Sirius sighs. He's been friends with James long enough that he knows when being stubborn will only prolong an ordeal. "Fine. It's not Florence or Emma."
"Bertha Jorkins?"
"No! She's a seventh-year."
"Everyone loves your hair." He takes a deep breath but is interrupted by Remus, who stops at the side of the table. Sirius's cheeks burn.
"I gave Peter the Charms work from today. He said to tell you, Sirius, that he hasn't forgotten about the Flobberworms, and that if there's anything in his shoes when he gets out this time, he'll hex you."
"And he'll do it right," James adds, nodding. "I've been teaching him."
Remus seems to notice how Sirius is slumped in his chair. "What's going on?"
"I'm being tortured," Sirius mumbles around a dry tongue. He studiously traces the grain of the tabletop with his eyes.
James laughs. "I'm guessing who he fancies," he tells Remus. "You should help me."
"No thanks." Remus heads toward the staircase.
Sirius watches him go, feeling both disappointed and enormously relieved. "I think he's got the right idea about this."
"He's just being his typical Remus self," James argues. "You're not getting out of here without spilling at least some of the beans. Where were we, anyway?" He squints at Sirius. "Hmmm… Alice?"
"No. Definitely not."
"Maybe I'm looking at this the wrong way," James admits. "Frank Longbottom?"
Sirius pales. "Excuse me?"
"You are bent, aren't you?"
"Maybe," he gets out.
"I thought so. Ever since second year, actually."
"How on earth—?"
"That is a story for another day, my fabulous friend." James snickers. "Is it Cresswell? No? What about Stebbins?"
"Not even close."
"I just thought opposites might attract." James rubs his chin. "But if they don't—Avery?"
"You're joking."
"Look, just tell me if it's a girl or a boy. Or neither. Is it Aubrey? I always thought he might have some sorting out to do."
"Well, I agree with that, but it's not him."
"Dammit, Sirius! You're no fun." James smiles as he says it. "Just one more guess. Crouch?"
"Who, Barty? I'm going to vomit."
"I thought that might be a stretch. Ah, well." James slings his bag over his shoulder.
"Does this mean I'm free?" Sirius asks hopefully.
"Only because I need my beauty sleep, and only until I'm bored."
"You won't be bored," Sirius predicts as they leave the table. "You'll be plotting how to draw the wool over Lily Evans's eyes."
"Could you say that any louder?"
"Sure." He takes a breath and raises his voice. "James Potter—" A hand clamps over his mouth.
"Do you promise to be good?" James asks. When Sirius nods, he takes his hand away.
"—Is in love with Lily Evans," Sirius finishes quietly.
"And Sirius Black is bent backwards for some poor bloke."
Sirius snorts. "I never said it was a bloke."
"It's pretty obvious," James says with a crooked smile. "After all, your wand is made of chestnut."