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“Padfoot, I’m not joking — Put. It. Down.” Remus could only shuffle anxiously at his spot behind the sofa. Sirius held the box closer and closer to the fire with every step he tried to take. Sirius didn’t seem to notice the cutting edge in Remus’s voice, and nonchalantly played with the ornate box, tossing it into the air and playing tricks with it, making Remus flinch with every movement. James and Peter watched nervously; Moony was scarier than McGonagall when he was angry, and he seemed quite close to exploding. Sirius was playing with fire.
“Sirius!” Remus yelled again. “Quit being a bastard! Give it back!” Sirius shrugged.
“I don’t know,” he dramatized. “My own boyfriend... just sells me out to Filch like I’m some kind of vermin — just for a box of chocolate —”
“Quit being dramatic,” Remus snapped. “You had detention with Filch anyway, and just avoiding it would’ve made things worse for you — fuck’s sake!” Sirius had taken another step closer to the Common Room’s roaring fire.
“You fucking know I saved up for four months for that box of chocolate — it came straight from Paris — god, Padfoot, please,” he pleaded.
Sirius grinned. “Come over here and make me.”
At those six words, Remus seemed to snap. He walked right up to his boyfriend, who was losing his smile by the millisecond, hexed him, and caught his box of chocolate in mid-air.
Sirius cursed and rubbed the forming welts on his arm. Without missing a beat, Remus pulled Sirius’s ear up to his mouth.
“You’ve lost all boyfriend privileges for two weeks,” he whispered. “Kissing, sex, cuddling — gone.” Remus flashed him a quick smile and sauntered away with his chocolate, James and Peter awkwardly watching everything play out.
“Wait! Moony — fuck, that hurts — he’s so bloody good at hexing — I’m sorry! Moony! Remus, I’m sorry, please!”