006. february 1976.

February, 1976 — 17:51 hours.
Hogwarts, Scotland.
Boys Dormitory — Marauders Room
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The boys dormitory is quiet this evening, save for the tinny sound of the WWN coming from Peter Pettigrew's radio.

Three Marauders out of the four are currently bored, detention-less, or purely unmotivated to do anything but sit where they are, like lumps on the furniture.

That is when James bursts in, looking distraught. The door slams against its hinges, forcing everyone to look up.

"She's got a date," he woefully declares.

Sirius, who had been by the window — no doubt having one of his ever important 'fuck off, mate', solitary philosophical thinking sessions — blinks in his direction.

Peter rolls over onto his stomach from his bed. "— what?"

"A date, Wormy. A bloody —"

"We heard you the first time, Prongs," says Remus from his own bedside. He closes his book. "What happened?"

"Yes," Sirius says. "Tell Uncle Remus all about it."

Remus rolls his eyes and chucks his pillow in Sirius' direction.

Sirius, grinning, easily catches it. He could have been a Quidditch player, Sirius. Only he couldn't be arsed to work so hard during each practice, and he'd probably score so many more fouls than actual goals — but that's not the important bit.

Focus, Potter.

This is what happens when his mind goes into a sort of panic mode. He starts to think about everything, and all at once.

James collapses into the chair by Remus' bed and lets out a sigh. "Right," he starts. "So I was in the courtyard, minding my own business, when I overheard Margot Hollingberry from Hufflepuff and what's-her-face from Ravenclaw mentioning the name 'Lily Evans'. Well, of course I would have left the girls to their private conversation, but they were being quite — you know, rudely loud about it, like they wanted everyone to hear what they were saying —"

"— so you moved closer, then," Sirius fills in.

James waves a hand. "Not the bloody point, Padfoot. Let me continue my story, will you?"

Sirius makes a sweeping, 'Go right on ahead' gesture.

"Right. So what's-her-face heard from someone who's a friend of this bloke Flourish in Ravenclaw that he'd asked Evans out next Hogsmeade weekend." James rubs his face. "D'you know what next Hogsmeade weekend is?"

"I know this one!" Peter exclaims. "St. Valentine's Day, right?"

"Yes, you tosspot. You don't have to look so excited about it."

"Cheer up, Prongs. You never would've had a chance anyway. Not after what we did to Snivellus. Which, I must reiterate, was a fine moment of brilliance and worth twelve Lily Evanses."

"Shut up, Sirius," says Remus.

James, still looking vaguely pained, continues his story. He mentally notes to himself to give Sirius a good kick later, too. "So, the next thing I hear is Margot saying that Amity bloody Root — you know, the girl who lives in the library —"

"— gives the stink-eye to anyone who so much as breathes loudly. Yeah, I know her," Remus puts in.

"Exactly. Amity confirmed the story what's-her-face was talking about, saying that she'd witnessed Lily Evans and that bloke called Flourish in the library. Said they were being irritatingly loud, and that in the end, Flourish came to join Evans at her table so they could work together."

James rises to his feet and paces around.

"Who the bloody fuck is this Flourish anyway?"

"Jeremy Flourish," Remus supplies. "Ravenclaw. He's had classes with us for the last five years. He's in our Transfiguration class this year."

In response to the blank look on James' face, Remus adds, "... he sits behind you."

No.

Nothing.

"You can't believe the idle gossip of Hogwarts girls, anyway," Sirius adds, just as Celestina Warbeck's A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love comes on the radio. "They're like a zoo of chirping sparrows, always spreading about whatever they hear, even if —"

James shouts, "Would you shut that bloody thing off, Wormtail!"

"James," Remus says calmly, "take a breath, mate. Get a hold of yourself."

Peter shuts the radio off.

"It's just one date," Peter says, meekly. "For all you know, it could go really, really badly. There's a lot of, ah — pressure to impress on Valentine's Day, you know."

James pauses where he is, arms crossed. Sulking.



Then —

"... that's right," he says slowly, a thousand and one ideas suddenly springing to mind. "There is a lot of pressure."

Remus sits up. "No, James. Whatever you're thinking —"

"James?" Sirius looks excited.

James puts up a hand, shh-ing his friends. "Just a second. I'm thinking."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Remus mutters.

Then, slowly, he starts to grin. His grin turns into a chuckle, and his chuckle turns into a laugh.

A long laugh.

Remus and Peter exchange looks, like James has just lost his mind.

(Which is entirely possible.)

Sirius just starts to join in. "HAHAHAHA — what's the laughter for, Prongs?"

There's a spark in his eyes that hadn't been there before. "All right, mates," he says, "I've got a brilliant idea."