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“Finite Incantatem.”
“I-I-I—I don’t understand.” James Potter shook his head, blinking fast. It was an attempt to either correct his vision after his best friend Sirius Black canceled his enchantment, or metaphorically clear his confusion, or both.
“What don’t you understand?” Sirius scrunched his face, holstering his wand. “This is it!”
“This is what?” James placed his thumb and index fingertip on the outside corners of his eyes and pinched them together, rubbing at where his tear ducts set in his eyelids.
Sirius stepped forward and spun to plant himself in front of James, wiggling his fingers in front of his best friend’s face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Five.” James drew his hand away from his face, scowling. “Cut it out.”
“What?” Sirius pretended to look pointedly at his hand. “No.”
James narrowed his eyes, tilting his head. “Yes, you do.”
“Actually, it’s four fingers and a thumb.” Sirius continued to hold his hand in the air, rapidly changing how many he displayed.
James slapped at Sirius’s hand, rolling his eyes and sighing loudly. “Don’t be a tosser.”
“Just making sure you can see is all.” Sirius grinned. Peter tried to stifle a chuckle from James’s left side, earning himself a glare.
“Don’t encourage him, Pete.” James grumbled at their friend, before pointing at Sirius. “Yes, I understand why you’d be concerned your spell may have had disastrous effects on me long term.”
Sirius huffed, waving James’s comment away. “Pfft. My Charms work is top-notch.”
“So you say, but–”
“Funny, you weren’t expressing your concern before I cast the Obscuro, magically blindfolding you,” Sirius deadpanned.
“An oversight on my part, I assure you.”
Remus snickered at James’s pun, putting himself between the two bickering men. “All right, children, play nicely or I’ll have to take your toys away and send you to bed without supper.”
“Aw, Dad,” they both whinged in unison.
“My surprise is this?” James asks, eyes widening. “Right here?”
“Yeah? I mean, no. Not out here on the pavement. Your real surprise is inside.” Sirius held both hands up, grandly gesturing to the building.
James looked beyond Sirius to the brick and mortar pub that positively oozed ominous vibes. The Hog’s Head.
“I’m trying to come up with an apt metaphor for the thought process that you followed leading us here, but I’ve got nothing.”
“I’m not going in there.” James shook his head, and took an involuntary step backwards, stepping on Peter’s foot in the process.
“What are you talking about?” Sirius pivoted to look at the three men staring at him. He rocked back on his heels, taking note of his best mates’ expressions. The combination of hesitancy and avoidance stark on all three faces.
“The Hog’s Head? Are you insane? Do you not remember what happened last time we went in there?”
“Rude, Potter. Poking fun at the possibility of mental illness.”
James scrunched up his face and pinched the bridge of his nose again. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“Do I? Do I really, James?” Sirius taunted, stepping backwards toward the door.
The sound of a bottle shattering and a noticeable uptick in raised voices inside the pub carried to them. Music and the loud rumble of male voices were distinctly audible from their position on the pavement. The young men made eye contact with each other and then Peter took two large steps backwards, positioning himself behind the human wall of James and Remus.
“I think we may have slightly different memories of that night. I remember being pitched out the door. Literally. Picked up and thrown through that door right there!” James pointed at the door he referred to.
Sirius twisted his head, glancing back where James indicated. He did half-wonder if he’d get flattened by the occupants inside when a brawl would inevitably be thrown outside. When no one came through, he turned back to the trio who, other than Peter hiding, hadn’t moved.
“What?” Sirius responded, shrugging his shoulders as they all stared at the front door. “It was a long time ago, I’m sure old Abes has completely forgotten about li’l ol’ us.”
“Pads, this is—”
“You’re barking if you think we’re going in there,” Remus chimed in, dragging his thumb across his neck in the universal sign of death. “I like my head attached to my neck, thank you very much.”
“What do you mean? It will be fine.”
“It will not be fine. Aberforth threatened to turn us into throw rugs if we ever came back here!” James dragged his hands down his face.
“Pfft.” Sirius buzzed his lips together, making a grand gesture of dismissing what he thought was an exaggerated threat. “I’m sure he was joking. We were kids then, we had no right being in his pub.”
“I’m not sure that I want to take that risk. He looked plenty sincere when he said it.” Remus covered his neck with both hands as if he could prevent his own demise.
“Fine. You hate it. Do you want to go somewhere else?” The dejection was obvious in the drooping of Sirius’s shoulders.
“No, no. It’s good—” Peter started, shifting nervously on his feet, ever the one to try and appease his friends.
Summer was dwindling to its conclusion, the late August air seasonably warm with the sun just sinking below the horizon.
The Hog’s Head was not a place that they’d frequented when they attended Hogwarts. Mostly due to fear of death after they’d gone one time in Fifth Year, gotten completely wasted, and started a bar fight. It didn’t look much different than it had before. Dingy. Small. But yet it felt so much different to be standing there now. It had been three months since they’d graduated and taken their NEWTs. They’d left Hogwarts, and by association Hogsmeade, behind and hadn’t looked back.
Three whole months. It felt like a lifetime.
Summer was dwindling to its conclusion, the late August air seasonably warm with the sun just sinking below the horizon.
“If you really wanted to go out in Hogsmeade, we could go to the Three Broomsticks,” James said.
Sirius gave a quick negative shake of his head. “Uh, that’s a no-go.”
“Why?” Remus stretched the word out.
“Uh, well, you see…” Sirius pressed his lips together for a brief moment. “The proprietress—”
“Wait just a second. You’re more scared of Madam Rosmerta than you are of Aberforth Dumbledore?”
“Yes,” Sirius nodded emphatically. “Infinitely.”
“I sense there’s a story there we aren’t aware of,” Peter said, peeking from behind James and Remus.
Sirius held up his hand in front of him, holding his thumb and index finger about half a centimetre apart, indicating his admission to the truth of it. However, instead of explaining, he reverted to the previous conversation. “Come on, lads, it’ll be just like old times, and I’ll tell you about it over a pint—or six.”
Remus chuckled, shaking his head. “Old times? I landed right about here.” He pointed to a patch of grass to their immediate left. “If I didn’t have my wolf healing capabilities, I’d walk with a permanent limp.” He bent over, rubbing his right knee.
“Details.” Sirius shrugged Remus’s recollection off with a wave of his hand. “That was then, this is now. Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“Your idea of fun and mine are vastly different, I think.” James pulled his hand away from his face, only to begin rubbing at the back of his neck. “Lily will have your bollocks for this.”
“That’s a weird thing to say. That your bride-to-be is thinking about my ba—” He grunted as James sent a Stinging Hex toward his feet.
“I wouldn’t advise finishing that statement.”
Remus snickered under his breath.
Peter shrank into the shadow provided by his friends as the door behind Sirius suddenly opened and the true volume of the commotion inside the pub reached their ears.
“In or out, yeah?” a large man grunted at them.
“What?” James tensed, pulling his hands away from his ears because he’d immediately covered them when the deafening noise rang out into the early evening.
“You’re not going to just stand out here, blocking the entrance to the pub.” He gestured to where Peter was hiding. “You.” He pointed to him, “You all right there? These blokes bothering you? In your way?”
“Uh, no—I mean, yes,” Peter’s voice cracked, stuttering. “We’re good.”
“You comin’ in, or not?”
Peter felt the pressure of all eyes on him as the other man stepped in between Sirius and the rest of their group. “Yeah,” he swallowed, pounding his hand on his chest to clear the sudden thickening in his throat and tried to prevent his voice from giving away how uneasy he was.
“See,” Sirius whispered, walking through the front door. “Told you it would be fine.”
The din from inside the Hog’s Head cut to a chilling silence as they crossed the threshold to the pub, pulling them up short.
“Of course. It’s sooo fine…” Peter trailed off, eyes wide and lip quivering.
Sirius pulled his confidence around him like a shield and gave a regal nod to the entirety of pub patrons watching them. “A round for the crowd on me in honour of my friend getting hitched.”
A burst of appreciation came as everyone raised their current drink in acknowledgement and a chorus of “Hear, Hear” echoed around the pub. Sirius pulled a small pouch full of Galleons from the inside pocket of his cloak and began to walk towards the bar.
Aberforth’s chin lifted in recognition of his payment as he made his way behind the bar. “What’ll I get you boys?”
“A tray full of Fire-Whiskey shots and four mugs of whatever’s on tap.” Sirius passed the pouch to Aberforth and tapped his chest, indicating there was more Galleons in his pocket.
“Go ’head and settle at that table in the corner. I’ll get these right out to you.”
Tension officially defused, the foursome accepted numerous handshakes and thankful nods from several wizards on their way to the open table in the back corner that Aberforth had indicated. Their individual moods instantly lifted, they jostled each other with elbows, teasing one another with thinly-veiled insults for their initial hesitancy in coming in.
“I’d like to make a toast.” Sirius swayed on his feet a little as he stood, holding up what was obviously not his first shot of the evening.
“Oh no,” James groaned, hiding his face behind his hands.
“Shhh, stop that.” Sirius swatted at him blearily. “Listen up, this is a good one.” He lifted his current shot, shutting one eye as he tried to focus on his friends. “To Lily, for putting up with your moody arse and making an honest man of you.”
“All right, I’ll drink to that.” James nodded. “To Lily!” They all repeated the refrain and tossed their shots back and Sirius fell back into his chair.
“That the best you’ve got?” Remus mocked, grabbing another shot from the tray in the centre of the table. He didn’t stand, but Remus raised his glass, “Here’s to us. May our lives be easy, except when we want to be hard, yeah?”
Laughter reigned supreme as the men lost it with Remus’s attempt at dirty humour. Men from neighboring tables had turned in their seats to join in the fun.
Sirius gasped, wheezing as he recovered from his fit of laughter. “No, let me think. How about this: Here’s to all the kisses we’ve snatched. And vice versa.” He waggled his thick black eyebrows at his friends, then mimed chomping and flicking a cigar.
“Hear, hear!” Remus and James cheered in unison along with their ever-increasing ring of enthusiasts. The core four clinked fresh shot glasses together, still laughing as they threw them back.
“My turn, my turn!” Peter hoisted a foamy lager. “Don’t be a dummy, cum on her tummy!”
Hoots and groans rang out, the clatter of a full tray of shots floating to the centre of the table with a dip of Aberforth’s chin.
“So crass, so true. How about this one? Here's to knickers, not the best thing in the world, but damn close to it.” Sirius chortled, raking a hand through his dark and tousled hair, his gaze glazing over as if he was reliving a particularly fantastic memory.
“Here, here!” the crowd choruses.
“Come on, James, your turn.” Peter began thumping his hands on the table.
“I don’t know.” James shrugged, snagging another tankard of ale. The congregated men “Boo” goodnaturedly at him.
“I got one! I got one!” Peter giggled at himself. "Work sucks. Life is Unfair. Cheers to the women wearing thong underwear.”
James clapped his hands and leaned in closer to his friends. “I wonder if Lily wears thong underwear?”
“No, no, no no no,” Sirius heaved himself across the table, putting his hand over James’s mouth. “We don’t wanna hear about that.”
James’s cheeks flushed bright red when he realised he’d spoken the thought aloud. He pushed Sirius’s hand away from his mouth. “I-I-I… Never said…” His head shook back and forth sloppily.
“’Course not.” Remus put his hands up, motioning that it had already been forgotten.
“More, more!” One of the pub-goers prompted.
“Okay, I have one more.” Sirius stood up again, the only one who had seen fit to do so. He lifted his glass, trying his best not to slur his words. “Listen up, this is a good one. Here's to the girls with long blonde hair, they’ve made us cry, they’ve made us stare. Most’ve lost their cherry, but that's no sin, ’cause they’ve still got the box that the cherry came in.” A veritable blast of laughter echoing boomed as practically the whole pub was now tuned into their shenanigans. Sirius’s cheek knew no bounds and he continued with his glass held high. “I have no preference about virginity, actually. But those blondes, mmm, they do it for me.”
“Everyone does it for you, Black.” James teased, waving to Aberforth for another round while their glasses connected.
“Too true,” Sirius agreed, falling back into his seat with a groan.
“Really? Blondes?” Remus asked, leaning forward on the table. At Sirius’s nod of encouragement, he continued on. “Hair colour doesn’t matter to me, but those virgins”--he pursed his lips together and puckered up in a mockery of a chef’s kiss–“That’s the stuff.”
“You animal!” James tutted as individual comments piped up from around them with various men agreeing or disagreeing and stating their preferences.
“True enough.” Remus nodded, taking a small sip. “Come on, James, you’re up.”
“Too easy.” Sirius waved off the innuendo.
Peter groaned, gesturing for James to hurry up.
“Let me think.” James tapped his fingers along the rim of his mug.
“Virgins are too much work,” Peter interrupted.
“No such thing.” Sirius disagreed, toasting Remus with his almost empty glass.
James looked away from his friends, scanning the inside of the dimly lit pub. He blinked, catching a glimpse of a familiar shade of red. “Redheads. I definitely prefer redheads.”
Sirius brought his arms up, crossing them in an X shape in front of his chest. “No, we’re not talking about Lily tonight. This is your stag night! We’re here to celebrate you! I don’t want to have to break up a fight when someone agrees and you take it the wrong way, and the inevitabe fists start flying.” Sirius sucked in a big breath, having run out of air after his explanation. “It’s your turn for a toast. Come on, let’s hear it then.”
“Hmm, okay.” James paused again before finally raising his mug. “Here’s to you and here’s to me. And the girls that lick us where we pee!”
James’s lame attempt at a raunchy toast was met with a host of booing and a muffled groan from Sirius, who cradled his head in his hands. Remus just studied him with a sober look on his face before concluding, “That was the saddest toast I’ve ever heard.”
“Okay, okay, okay. Let me try again,” Peter chimed in.
“This is gonna have to be the last toast, I think we’re out of booze.” Sirius joked.
“Here’s to the top, here’s to the middle. Let’s hope tonight, we all get a little.” Peter smirked, pounding his shot back.
“Pete, it’s like you’re not even trying,” Sirius made a valiant attempt, but couldn’t stop the chortle from bubbling up his throat. “Last one, last one.” He tried to stand, but his legs weren’t cooperating, so he plopped back down and lifted his glass. “One drink is good.” He gestured to Peter. “Two at the most.” A set of wiggling fingers pointed at James. “Three, you’re under the table.” He did a stylish flourish toward Remus. “And Four, I’m under the host!”
The number of derogatory catcalls bordered on a deafening level again as the group at large started side conversations with dirty rhymes.
Just as Peter was getting ready to hit the head, Lily arrived. She leaned over James’s shoulder and pressed her lips to his cheek.
“No, ma’am–miss–whoever,” James slurred. He recoiled with an exaggerated jerk and spilled out of his chair, landing sprawled out on the floor. “I’m a married—almost married—h-happily engaged wizard. Take your lips elsewhere.”
His friends were beside themselves, hooting with amusement, half-hysterical with James’s overreaction. Sirius pounded his palm on the tabletop over and over again, trying to catch his breath, his vision blurred with tears of mirth. Remus wrapped his arms over his stomach, practically howling as he rocked back and forth. Peter fared the worst, though. His signature snort cackle drew the whole pub’s attention and he pressed his hands over his mouth, trying to stifle the ridiculous sounds coming from him.
“I reckon she knows that, mate,” Remus choked.
“Thanks for the Patronus,” Lily called to the wizened old man behind the bar.
“Best of luck to you tonight, Miss Evans, the lads are going to be feeling this tomorrow, I promise ya.”