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A year after they graduate, there’s a very blatant change in routine. As James is off with Lily, and Peter is god knows where, Remus finds that for the first time in their entire eight year friendship, it’s just him and Sirius on New Year’s Eve. He finds himself sat on Sirius’ sofa, with his third-- fourth?-- glass of firewhisky near empty as the man himself is slightly less collected. Sirius tilts a little too far forward in his seat opposite, blinking twice in quick succession and looking preemptively pleased with himself.
“Why is a raven like a writing desk.” He asks in a self-satisfied tone as if utterly sure he’s about to come out victorious. He’s mistaken.
Remus pauses long enough to look as if he’s giving it serious thought, before leaning forward himself. “Because Poe wrote on both.” He returns with a slow blink that screams ‘you’re an idiot’. In return he gets a glass shattering spark of laughter and he smiles back. He waits for the outburst to die down before firing back. “What’s at the end of a rainbow.” He half states, half asks, over the rim of his glass; smile lingering.
He can practically see the wheels in Sirius’ head clicking into overdrive. It’s in the slight crinkle of his eyes. In the way he stills, head tilted just so. Even drunk he’s one-track when he wants to be. Remus has time to polish off his drink and refill before he gets anywhere near an answer.
“Nothing.” Sirius states, drawing the word out with confidence building towards the end as if getting surer of the answer as he says it. He grins as if he’s won.
Remus grins back, pausing a very long moment before giving anything away. A few beats and he knocks back the entire glass with a snort of a laugh. “A ‘w’ is at the end of a rainbow.” He retorts. He easily ducks the cushion aimed at his head.
The clock directly behind him chimes obnoxiously, exactly twelve times, and Remus can’t find it in himself to regret the lack of their usual dynamic on New Year’s. Especially when Sirius launches into increasingly ridiculous riddles in an attempt to erase the fact that he got one wrong, gravitating ever closer.