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"You think you're funny," Remus said thoughtfully, placing the book back on the shelf, "but you're not."

"Yeah, but I am, though," said Sirius.

"You're really not." He wandered back over to the table, running a forefinger along the spines and picking out another.

"Yeah," said Sirius, following him over and ducking his head enough that he could rest it on Remus' shoulder, "but I am, though."

"Someday," the shorter boy said dreamily, "someone's going to kill you. And they'll never find a body, or any evidence at all, really. I bet James'd help."

There was silence for a while, but the warm weight of Sirius' head on his shoulder never shifted. Remus sorted the books on the table into alphabetical order, for lack of anything else to do - he didn't seem particularly inclined to move.

"I don't think I'd mind so much, if it was you."

"...you're a nutter."

"Yep," said Sirius happily, and stood upright again, ruffling Remus' hair.