Harry Potter, With the Naked Eye

Title: With the Naked Eye [Remus/Sirius]
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Summary: Sirius has a glitter crisis.
AN: Written for the 24-Hour Ficathon. blackrogue wanted Glitter!MWPP in general, and Glitter!R/S in general.

With the Naked Eye

Sirius suppressed a maniacal cackle as he passed his parchment forward. He had set a time-release on his spell so that just as it got to Remus two desks in front of him…

…nothing happened. Remus calmly handed the stack of parchments to Professor McGonagall.

Sirius narrowed his eyes. He knew he’d cast that spell right, he used it fairly frequently.

“Must’ve been the time charm,” Sirius muttered to himself, peering at the calculatory scribblings that covered his parchment. “Bleeding Latin numbers…”

McGonagall looked supremely unimpressed when, several moments later, a stream of glitter fountained into the air with a gleeful “FWEEEE!” like a birthday blower, and rained back down over her.

Sirius slunk down in his seat and glared at Remus, who had twisted around in his seat to look at his boyfriend, knowing the glitter had been meant for him. He seemed torn between laughing and scolding.

McGonagall had no such conflicts.

“Mr. Black!” she said crisply. “I have put up with enough of this sort of nonsense this term!”

“It’s only glitter,” Sirius offered, trying for a winning smile.

“I have tried essays and I have tried detentions,” McGonagall continued as though he’d said nothing, “and they have had no effect! Clearly, drastic measures must be taken!”

The classroom was silent as they waited for the hammer to fall.

“Hand. Over. Your. Eyeliner. Pencil.” she ordered.

“WHAT?!” Sirius looked stricken.

“And if there are any more antics from you this week, Mr. Black,” McGonagall narrowed her eyes. “I will snap it in half and make you EAT it!”

Sirius drew the pencil out of his back pocket and handed it over, white-faced.

At the end of class, he slunk back up to the Tower without speaking to anybody.

* * * * * *

“C’mon, Sirius!” James yelled as he was mussing up his hair in the mirror. “We’re going to be late!”

“M’not going!” Sirius’ muffled voice came from behind his bed hangings.

“Don’t be such a nancy,” James snapped in irritation. “Just come out!”

“No.”

“Sirius, we’ve seen you loads of times without your eyeliner,” Peter tried to be more reasonable. “You came to school here for four whole years before it!”

There was stony silence from Sirius’ bed.

“I’ll handle this,” Remus finally said. “Go on ahead, I’ll make sure he goes to class.”

“M’NOT!”

Peter and James wished Remus luck and went off to breakfast. Remus pulled aside Sirius’ hangings, then let them swing shut behind him as he crawled up on Sirius’ bed.

“Go away,” Sirius grumbled. He was sitting against his headboard, arms crossed and knees drawn up angrily. “I’m not going out looking like this.”

“You look fine, Padfoot,” Remus placated, slowly edging closer. “It’s even sexy, in it’s own way.”

“S’not,” Sirius shook his head.

“No, really,” Remus continued, now close enough that his chest was almost leaning on Sirius’ knees. “It’s more like how you look right out of the shower, or when you first get up in the morning.”

“Mmm,” Sirius grunted, unconvinced.

“There’s no doubt you’re hot when you all made up and things,” Remus slid over the last little bit to press against Sirius’ chest, uncrossing his arms and leaning up to whisper in his ear, “but when you’ve just woken up, and your hair’s all mussed up,” he pulled out Sirius’ ponytail elastic and ran a hand through his hair, “and your cheeks are flushed…”

Sirius cut off Remus abruptly by seizing his mouth, running his tongue over Remus’ lower lip so that the werewolf arched against him. Sirius unbent his legs to pull Remus into his lap.

“How’s this supposed to make me want to go to class?” he asked after a moment.

“Not really sure,” Remus sighed, kissing him again.