Sirius bounded into the dormitory, hair askew and somehow with his robes on backward. He frantically looked around, tripped over a textbook, and stumbled into James.
"Cake," he said desperately, clutching at James' collar. "Cake."
"Down, man." James tried to pry Sirius' fingers off of his shirt, but there was either a sticking spell or Sirius had superhuman powers he hadn't mentioned before. "What about cake?"
"Cake," Sirius repeated.
"Yes," James soothed. "Cake."
Sirius shook him. "Moony."
"Moony is not a cake," James said.
"Though that would be brilliant," Peter or maybe a sock said. James thought he'd taken care of all the talking socks.
James pried one of Sirius' hands off of him. "You've been hexed."
Sirius shook his head, let go of James' collar, and collapsed onto the floor in a heap of robes. "Forgot Moony's birthday," Sirius muttered. "Need a cake."
"Your robes are on backward," Peter-not-a-sock said from somewhere in the middle of the room, perhaps in a parchment fort.
Sirius waved him off. "Cake, Prongs," he said to James. "Find me a cake. I'm in no state for a cake-quest. Chocolate. No! Raspberry."
"Chocolate and raspberry?" Peter suggested.
Sirius twisted around in such a way that James thought wasn't possible. "Wormtail, you brilliant man. True friend. Comrade. I could kiss you."
"I'd rather you not," Peter replied.
Sirius huffed and collapsed back down, face mashed into the carpet. "I am horrible."
For a moment, none of them said anything. A cauldron sang. Peter's cat meowed. The stairs creaked, then Sirius yelped and tugged an unsteady pile of trousers down on top of him. They didn't cover his legs, but James didn't have time to point that out before the door swung open.
Remus looked warily from James - standing in the midst of what looked like an exploded trunk - to Peter, who was charming the front of the parchment fort to look like a Quidditch shop. His eyes stopped on Sirius' trainers, peaking out from underneath the entirety of James' wardrobe.
"What is he doing under there?" Remus asked. He took a cautious step back.
"I have no idea," James answered honestly. "But I've a quest." He patted Remus on the back as he passed. "Good luck. I think he's been hexed. His robes are on backward." He paused in the doorway. "Wormtail, c'mon."
Peter cast a longing look at his fort before he sighed and found a pair of shoes suitable for questing.
The door closed behind them with a quiet snick and Sirius moaned from underneath James' laundry.
"Padfoot, what are you doing?" Remus asked cautiously.
"Hiding, obviously," Sirius answered. He shoved a pair of hideous plaid trousers off his face and sat up. "Badly."
"Obviously," Remus agreed. "You haven't got your clothes on the right way. Been fighting off girls again?"
Sirius snorted. "I had a realisation in the bath," he said.
"That... you must hide under James' clothes?" Remus sat down next to Sirius, knees pulled up to his chin.
Sirius shook his head. "No, that came after." He held his hands out. "It's your birthday."
Remus looked at him curiously. "Those do happen once a year," he agreed. "And mine is today."
Remus shrugged. "It's not a big deal."
"Is so," Sirius insisted. "Sixteen."
"You've been sixteen for months. Does it feel any different to you?"
They were quiet for a minute. It had meant a lot to Sirius - he'd run away two months later and Things had definitely Changed.
"That wasn't my revelation," Sirius blurted, and then he clapped his hand over his mouth.
Remus cocked his head curiously. Sirius stared, then suddenly he turned an awful shade of red and leaned forward.
"Hang the cake," he muttered, and pressed his lips against Remus'.