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"What do you mean you're doing nothing?"
Remus couldn't even see the floor. James and Sirius had covered it with parchment: to-buy lists, itineraries, freshly wet paintings, paper mâché crowns. When Peter came in, he had to transfigure himself into a rat and jump across the gaps to his bed. Kingsley had opened the door, taken one look at the room, and shut it again. That was three hours ago.
"You two are wearing 'His' and 'His' sashes," Remus said flatly, barely looking up from his book. "And you expect me to feel crazy here?"
"Moony, darling," James said calmly. "I understand you're freshly de-wolfed and extra snippy, but please spare us the hate. This is the day of love we're talking about, after all."
"Yeah," said Sirus, pouting. "Don't you have any love in you, bitch baby?"
"You can't—"
"Well, when you're acting like one!"
Remus lowered his book. He picked up his wand from his lap and flicked it so that Sirius's sash broke at the seam and fell into Sirius's lap. Sirius, looking as though he might cry, began blubbering on to James about this "monstrosity" and the "utmost disrespect" and "are you really going to let this happen prongs, do something would you, merlin's sake."
Remus continued reading.
Remus did like a little extravagance. Maybe not so much as James, who was outlining his own holiday just to have a day dedicated to Sirius with the same (if not more) romantic level as the real holiday the following day. No, he wouldn't have carved Sydney's name into his textbooks or spent a fortune on jewelry or painted her in the finest robes–not like he could have. But maybe he'd have cooked dinner, dessert. Taken her stargazing.
He was a little romantic, alright?
But Sydney was insistent. She avidly hated Valentine's Day, and all Remus wanted was for her to be happy. A week later, Remus and Sydney would sleep through James's 6AM alarm. They'd wake up at 11 instead, and Sydney would carefully brush the hair off of Remus's forehead and kiss his cheek. She'd look so pretty, brown hair against his white sheets, nose scar tilted in a smile, and it would all be so brilliant in its simplicity. Remus could deal without the rest.
Apparently, his mates could not.
"They live!" cheered Sirius, raising his cup as Remus and Sydney entered the Great Hall for lunch. Remus rolled his eyes but said nothing.
"Since when have we ever made it to breakfast on a Saturday?" Sydney asked, grabbing bread and jam.
"Just thought you'd change course a bit considering it's a holiday," said Sirius. Sydney scoffed. She placed the peanut butter and jam sandwich onto Remus's plate and then started another for herself.
"Thanksgiving is a holiday. Today is just another Saturday. It's the same as birthdays."
"Thanksgiving," said Peter. "Is only for Americans."
