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“Alright, listen up idiots!” James demands, standing on his four poster and making a come-hither gesture with his fingers.
Sirius just rolls his eyes and lowers the pillow he was just about to nail Peter with. Peter, however, is not so courteous and slams Sirius so hard he ends up with a mouth full of feathers and has to blink away stars.
“Oh no you didn’t, you little—” Sirius starts, growling, making to tackle him.
Peter squeals and ducks out of the way, chuckling slightly, cheeks flushed.
“Not my fault you made yourself such an easy target!”
“Easy target?! At least I wasn’t—"
“GUYS!” James yells, trying to regain their attention.
Sirius grudgingly stops glaring at Peter to look at James.
“What is it?” he grounds out.
James raises his arms dramatically and puffs up to appear taller.
“I,” he declares, “have had an idea.” He pauses, as if to wait for applause.
“And it can’t wait until after I’ve smothered Peter?”
“Oi! Shut up about Peter already and ask what my idea was!” James badgers them, pouting slightly.
He looks ridiculous up there, hair a mess and clearly trying to eat his canopy. Sirius valiantly resists the urge to tell him in favor of keeping silent out of spite. Not his problem if the git destroys his bed.
“Alright, I’ll bite. What idea, Prongs?” Peter asks when it becomes clear that Sirius won’t.
“Why, I’m so glad you asked! It has to do with one particular werewolf’s upcoming birthday.”
That, however, catches Sirius’s interest. “What idea?” he asks, spite entirely forgotten.
“Come here and I’ll tell you, you great ninny,” James says.
He finally flops himself down onto his bed and sits crisscross-applesauce and then pats impatiently at the space next to him. Sirius launches himself over to him, expertly avoiding all the piles of clothes and knickknacks that litter the floor of their dorm. Peter treads more carefully and reaches them after having tripped only twice.
“Alright mates,” James whispers conspiratorially and they all lean in on instinct. “You know how Moony’s birthday is coming up in two weeks?”
“Yes, yes, we’ve been over that part,” Sirius says.
“Well,” James starts, looking a bit shy but powering on, nonetheless. “We all know how when Remy gets ready in the morning he’ll ask for help sometimes with his—his—” he wriggles his fingers in approximation.
“His binding?” Sirius asks, dust dry.
“Yes! That!”
“But what does that have to do with his birthday?” Peter askes, confused.
“Silence, Wormtail, I’m getting to that part…”
“…and?” Sirius prompts.
“And we all know the lecture that Pomfrey gave him back in December. Binding with bandages isn’t healthy and we’ve seen how it affects his breathing towards the end of class,” James says significantly.
“It hurts him,” Peter adds quietly, “even if he won’t admit it.”
“Exactly! So I’ve been doing a little reading in some of Sirius’s magazines—”
“You what?!” Sirius yelps in horror, the tips of his ears flushing.
“ --and I think that we should pool together and buy him a proper binder,” he finishes, ignoring Sirius.
James looks expectantly at them over the rim of his glasses.
“That’s a grand idea!” Sirius agrees, feeling his chest swell with excitement.
“I know,” James says smugly.
“I’m in,” Peter adds. “But where can we get one? I’ve never heard of such a thing in the wizarding world.”
“We’ll probably have to get it Muggle,” James muses.
“We can’t leave the school grounds though, and there’s no holiday between now and Moony’s birthday. I also doubt that they send by owl,” Peter points out.
James looks positively downcast.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” he says sadly.
Sirius, meanwhile, has been thinking hard and nearly shoves James off the bed when he grabs for him.
“My Uncle Alphie!” he shouts.
“Bloody hell, mate! I still need my hearing, thank you very much,” James complains, rubbing his ears and nearly dislodging his glasses in the process.
“What about your uncle, then?” Peter asks.
“He’s the only tolerable member of my family aside from Aunt Andromeda, he is. Got burnt off the family tapestry a couple of years back when they discovered he was queer as a picnic basket.”
“What’s queer about a picnic basket?” Peter cuts in.
“Shut up, that’s not the point—the point is that he’s like our dear Remy. He also happens to live in a flat in non-magical London,” Sirius explains excitedly.
James’s eyes widen. “But that’s perfect! He can buy it for us and send it per owl!”
“Exactly, and I know he used to use a binder before he started taking his changing potions, so he’ll know all about what types are good and whatnot.”
All three of them are grinning madly at each other when the door to the dorm opens and Remus slouches in, looking like death warmed over. He stops when he spots them and eyes them suspiciously.
“Dear Gods, what is it this time? Do I want to know?” he asks, though the long-suffering tone is kind of undermined by the mischievous gleam in his eyes.
“Nope! Nothing to see here! We were just—”
“Talking about Evans!” Sirius cuts in.
“Again?” he asks, actually long-suffering this time.
“Oi! She’s an excellent topic,” James says, indignant.
Letter to Alphie, Sirius mouths at his co-conspirators, before dashing from the dorm.
“What’s up with Padfoot?” Remus asks, confused.
“Probably forgot his hair curlers in the common room bathroom again or something. Who knows?”
---
Remus spends the next two weeks in extreme suspicion.
Anytime he enters a room, the other three fall silent, and they grin madly at him whenever they think he isn’t looking. Remus honestly doesn’t know what to expect—though he does have several running theories. Perhaps they’re planning a prank that they know he wouldn’t approve of, or one where Remus specifically is the target. Though he supposes it could also be a prank on the Prefects, which he is somehow completely bafflingly a part of.
His most dreaded theory, however, is that they’re going to try to make a spectacle of his birthday again.
Last year they made absolutely certain that he couldn’t escape their mania. They’d hung up bloody Wizarding Posters of his embarrassed or disapproving face with captions like “Prefect Lupin is Disappointed That You Haven’t Congratulated Him Yet” or “Local Swot Prefect Lupin Cannot Be Allowed to Study for OWLs on His Birthday.” Needless to say, Remus had not been amused and spent most of his day switching between blushing furiously and trying to hex the blazes out of his friends.
Though he has to admit, there really had been a record number of people congratulating and celebrating with him. The fact that McGonagall gave the three detention for gluing one of the posters to Snape’s back was definitely the icing on the cake.
So to say that he was a little on edge was an understatement and thus he cannot be blamed for his actions the following morning.
---
Remus wakes up on the morning of his birthday to the faces of his friends hovering mere inches from his.
He screams and jerks back, hitting his head on his bed frame.
“What in Merlin’s name are you doing?!” he screeches.
“God, you’re finally awake. I thought we were going to have to wait forever,” Sirius complains at him, making no move to distance himself.
“Sod off you stupid git,” Remus growls, attempting to bury himself under his pillows-- or possibly smother himself.
“I love you too, Moonbeam,” Sirius replies sarcastically.
“Get up already!” James whines. “Do you know how hard it’s been to keep this shit secret so long?”
“Keep what secret?” Remus sighs and sits up, resigned to his fate.
“This,” Sirius answers, and thrusts a package under his nose.
“What?”
“Happy Birthday, you wanker,” Peter says fondly.
Remus blinks. Oh, right, there was that. He carefully takes the package from Sirius and lays it in his lap. The wrapping is an absolute train wreck, and he suppresses the urge to laugh at the sight. The original paper is a tasteful dark green, one of his favorite colors. However, there is a veritable explosion of different glitter and gluing charms smeared all over it, accompanied by some truly horrendous cartoony wolf stickers. Hardy fucking har.
When he starts unwrapping, his hands come away a glittery gold. Damnit. He starts to complain before he spots the contents of the package. His breath hitches for a moment as he stares at it.
A binder. They got him a binder. A proper one, too, made from sturdy looking, grey elastic material.
He feels his eyes burn with tears as he looks at it.
“Oh God, did we fuck this up?” Sirius whispers in horror.
“No, you twit, those are happy tears!” James hisses.
Remus gives a watery chuckle at that and finally manages to tear his eyes away from the binder to look at his friends.
“Thank you,” he whispers, voice wobbly.
Sirius still looks slightly alarmed but takes his hand anyway.
“You’re very welcome, Moony,” he replies. James and Peter echo him.
Remus still feels a little bit dazed. They got this for him, and by the looks of it they did some real research, too. He’s moving before he realizes it and swiftly envelopes his friends in a bone crushing hug, standing up and lifting them from their feet in the process.
“We love you too, Rem,” James wheezes.
“Oh God, oh God, this is how we die, isn’t it?” Peter squeaks.
“Remus. Remy. Moonbeam, my love, you’re crushing us,” Sirius rasps.
He squeezes them one more time before setting them down and letting go.
“Merlin’s tits, you’re strong,” James says, leaning on the bed and taking in great gasps of air.
“Sorry,” Remus mumbles sheepishly.
“It’s alright,” James waves him off.
“How long have you been planning this?” Remus asks them, still clutching the binder close.
He always knew they were supportive of him, but this is something else. This isn’t politely turning away whenever he changes clothes or respecting his pronouns. This is them actively trying to help and support him in a way that he never asked or expected of them.
He feels his chest swell with incredible fondness and gratitude.
“Err, well,” James starts shyly, “ever since the incident in December I guess.”
“You’ve been planning this for three months?” he asks, shocked.
“I just mostly did research until about two weeks ago, figured you wouldn’t accept it if we’d just given this to you without special occasion,” James rambles nervously.
For all that he liked to boast of his great deeds, James tended to be uncomfortable when praised for his truly heartfelt actions. Remus thought it rather bizarre, as he was sure that Lily would much prefer this side of him that only his friends got to see.
“There’s also this,” Sirius says quietly, holding out a letter to him.
Remus takes it and looks to him for explanation.
“It’s from my Uncle Alphard,” he says hesitantly, “he’s the one who helped us choose the right thing and owled it to us. He’s—he’s like you, and he thought maybe you’d like to write to him sometimes, for advice and whatnot. If I’m overstepping, I’m very sorry, I just thought—”
Remus interrupts him mid-ramble by grabbing his face and kissing him thoroughly.
James wolf whistles while Peter pretends to gag in the background.
“Oi, get a room!” Peter yells teasingly.
“This is our room, you wanker,” Sirius says, pulling away and grinning madly.
“Go on then, try it, it’s almost time for breakfast!” James says excitedly.
Remus is still grinning to himself a little bashfully and grabs the clothes he prepared together with his binder and disappears into the bathroom. When he’s dressed, he can’t quite stop grinning at the mirror, eyes full of happy tears. While it still feels a bit restrictive, the difference is still immediately obvious. The fabric is much gentler on his skin and his ribs don’t feel nearly as constricted.
Most importantly of all though is how it looks. He’d always been a bit paranoid about still showing despite the bandages, but with this, his shape appears entirely masculine through his sweater. That’s him. That’s him there in the mirror, looking as tall and gangly as James.
When he reenters the dorm, the others are already dressed for the day. They beam at him.
“Come on then marauders, he’s yet to see the customized napkins,” James declares, hooking his arms in with Remus and Peter.
“The what?” Remus sputters.