Sirius never kept secrets from James. Well, except for that whole being an utter shirt-lifter business.

"I'm going to tell him," he whispers to Remus in the middle of the library, apropos to nothing.

"You are not." Remus' quill doesn't even hitch in its smooth flow across his parchment. He doesn't have to ask what they're talking about.

"You can't tell me what to do!" Sirius snaps, and Remus sighs.

"I could indeed," he reports without any trace of bravado, "but i don't have to, because the truth is that you aren't going to. Not ever."

"Not ever," Sirius scoffs, beginning to shred the corners of his parchment with nervous fingers.

"Even if you were," Remus continues as though he has said nothing, "you certainly aren't going to do it because you want to get back at him for missing your daily drinking engagement for Lily."

"Fucking Evans," Sirius snarls, but says nothing else, because James is coming in at that moment, eyes bright enough and smile wide enough so that every one in the room knows he must have got his hand another milimeter up Lily's skirt.

" 'Lo, lads!" James saunters up to the table and beams down at them. Remus still does not look up. "What's new?"

"Nothing," Sirius reports tersely.