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Chapter Text

It was the last race of the season: the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix at Yas Marina Circuit. Gryffindor were the season favorites: Lupin and Potter were up 53 points in the constructors' championship, and were first and second in the drivers'. They had obviously secured the constructors', but the drivers' championship was still up in the air: the battle between second and third was undecided, but would be, by the end of the 58th lap. 

And what’s not to like about one of the few nighttime races on the schedule? Bright lights, fast cars, roaring crowds: nothing could beat it. Fans were already filling up the bleachers, decked out in team gear to support their favorite drivers. 

Remus Lupin sat in one of the back rooms in the paddock, an hour before race start, music pounding in his headphones. His leg bounces up and down uncontrollably. A knock comes at the door; he removes an ear of his headphones.

“Yeah?” 

James pokes his head in. “Hey Lupin,” he says, sitting down across from him, “you alright?”

Remus removes his headphones fully. He gives a small smile. 

“I’m alright, James.” His leg continues to bounce.

James cracks a smile, and looks down at his leg. “Yeah, yeah. What’s new.” 

They sit quietly, the only noise being the sound of Lupin’s racing suit going back and forth on the sofa as his leg bounces. There is a certain level of concentration one needs before a race: they usually don’t disturb each other at this point, but this is the last one of the season, and a fairly important one at that.

Remus inhales. And exhales.

He inhales again. “I’m not really one to get spooked before these things, James. I feel like it’s almost… already been decided, the way the Slytherin cars have been breezing through these past few races, though,” he says, after a second.

The Slytherin team: France’s very own. While the Gryffindors were the pride and joy of England, the level of national pride the French had for Slytherin was almost terrifying.

It didn’t help, of course, that the two drivers were almost just as terrifying: Sirius Black, Frenchman, and Peter Pettigrew, fellow Englishman [turned evil].

Remus didn’t really need to say much more. They sat there in silence for a second, considering their own teams’ history; funny enough, they’d all grown up karting together, up until the age they were eligible for F1. 

“Honestly, Remus,” James gives a friendly scoff. “You’ve got nothing to lose going into this race. Your only option here is to push as hard as you can. Fuck Black, fuck the Slytherins. We know they play dirty, and the only way for you to pull out of this with a podium for the drivers' is to fight back just as hard.”

This was Remus’s second year in Formula 1. He was previously in Formula 2 for 4 years, alongside Potter, Pettigrew, and Black.

And in those four years, he had never come so close to such a big championship title.

Five years ago, Remus had started as a driver for Williams’s F2 team. He drove well, as well as one can, given a shitty car. He worked his ass off to try to get points for his team, despite a certain lack of success. 

On his third year of F2, he moved into Gryffindor’s F2 team, and joined James Potter, a childhood friend of his who had grown up driving beside. This team was a feeder into Formula 1: almost all of the past Gryffindor F1 drivers had originally driven for their F2 team before moving up a level in racing. 

He had been a star: one of the youngest teenagers to move up the ranks of high-speed racing so quickly.

But he wasn’t the only star.

Sirius Black held the hearts of the French, even when he was a kid. 

The beginnings of Formula 1 start in karting, as a child. The sport is expensive, no doubt, but that was never an issue for the Black family; Sirius constantly had the best equipment, best cars, and best teams: it was often rumored his mother had paid his way on. 

Despite this, Sirius publicly came off as a humble, easygoing kid, long before he wormed his way into the adulthood of racing. He’d do his interviews, interact with coaches, but wouldn’t get much chance to help the other drivers before he was whisked back home by his mother. 

When James Potter left F2 a year before Remus did, there was an open seat on Gryffindor’s team. It was no surprise as to who received it.

Sirius left the Slytherin F2 team for the Gryffindor one, to the shock of many fans. It seemed as though he had no loyalty to the team, but then again, when did any of them? The sport has always been about money, above all else. 

So Sirius and Remus were teammates for one whole season. Remus can probably count on one hand the amount of interactions he had with Sirius. They mainly went something like,

“Sirius, did you get our new training schedule? Devon told me to make sure you’d be there tomorrow morning for a quick jog.” 

A nod.

“Sirius, can you pass me that pile of t-shirts? We’ve still got like, 1000 more to get through to finish signing.”

“No.”

“Sirius, did you happen to see my old helmet anywhere? Someone said they saw it near your paddock room, but I can’t seem to find it. I told the team I’d gift it to that guy who’s leaving after today.”

“Fuck off, Lupin. It’s not over here.”

On, and on, and on, and on again. There seemed to be no way to get through to him, and at a certain point, Remus gave up. 

The funniest part about it was that they did, in fact, have to do obligatory media content together. 

It was a sight to see, Sirius smiling and laughing for all of these videos and the cameras went down, or the journalists were pulled away, it was almost like a switch would turn and his attitude would go back to sulky, pissed, and gloomy. Remus could not, for the life of him, understand this other boy.

There was only one time Remus thinks he saw a measly smidge of emotion coming from Sirius: the day they both received their offers to Formula 1. 

It was early October, three years prior. The latter half of the season of their last year on Gryffindor’s F2 team.

Remus was pulled aside to talk with the team principal of the F1 squad; he accepted, of course, with tears in his eyes: a childhood dream come true.

Sirius, had been pulled aside the day before. He had also accepted his offer to Slytherin’s team, unbeknownst to many of the members of his current squad. Remus walked into Sirius’s paddock room, the Friday of that race weekend.

“Hey Black,” he said, as he pushed Sirius’s cracked door open fully. Sirius was half naked, prone on a massage table, being treated by his PT. A muffled “hello” came from the pillow beneath his face.

“Can we talk in private? I feel like we have some stuff to.. chat about.”

At this, Sirius looks up, eyebrow raised. “What?”

Remus stands there, and glances over at the PT. Sirius shoos the trainer out of the room, and gets up to close the door. He re-wraps his towel around himself, and turns to face Remus. He has Sirius’s undivided attention, maybe for the first time in a year. 

“I… received an offer from Gryffindor’s F1 team. I’m… going to be moving up next season,” Remus says hesitantly, searching the other boy's face for a reaction.

Sirius nods slowly. “I also … received an offer.”

“No way!” Remus says. He’d been hoping he did. It would’ve been way too fucking awkward for just one of them to have gotten it. “To which team?” 

Sirius pauses. He begins to smirk. 

Remus is silent, and a little lost. He waits.

“Slytherin. I’ll be joining Pettigrew as their second driver.”

He tries not to let his jaw drop. 

Slytherin? As in, he doesn’t know, Gryffindor’s biggest fucking rival… ever? Literally ever? Obviously, there was no true loyalty in the sport, but it was still an enormous jump.

He tries to keep his cool.

“Oh.” He swallows.

Sirius stares, small smirk still teasing at the right side of his mouth. 

“Well,” Remus starts, trying not to let it affect him, but also excited he’d willingly gotten a full sentence out of Sirius. “Should be a fun next few years! How long’s your contract?”

Sirius’s smirk grows. Almost to a full, cruel smile. Almost.

“Five years.”

Remus’s jaw drops. 

“F- … Five?”

Sirius, with the most sly expression on his face, nods in assent.

“Mhm. Five. Longest ever for the Slytherins, you know.”

He knows.

“Well. That’s. Well. That’s great, Sirius. I’m happy for you. Seriously.” He tries not to cringe at the unintentional wordplay. It slips out when he’s nervous.

Sirius almost laughs. Almost. 

“Thanks, Lupin. I’ll see you on the track.” 

And with that, he walks out of his own paddock room, sans racing suit, wrapped in half a towel, leaving Remus to stare at the space he left behind.

Gryffindor’s F2 team placed first in the constructors' championships that year. Sirius placed first in the drivers'; Remus, third. 

Chapter Text

50 minutes until lights out. 

Remus is shaking a little. He really hasn’t ever been one to succumb to nerves about a race. 

But he’s just so close. 

He’s really never been closer to getting second. The gap between second and third widened too much last season. But this year?

This year he really has a chance. 

And it all comes down to Sirius Black’s performance. 

—

In the Slytherin paddock, Sirius does reflex exercises with his trainer Evan. It’s silent in the room besides the sound of his hands catching the tennis balls, one after another.

“Alright, that’s enough, Black.” His trainer says, after 5 minutes of practice. Sirius lets out an exhale. 

Evan gives him a hard smack on the shoulder. “You’ve got this in the fucking bag. Lupin won’t know what hit him today.” He tells him, before walking out of the room, leaving Sirius alone with his thoughts.

Sirius doesn’t even bother to look up at the comment. He does a couple breathing exercises out of habit—his therapist would force him to do it as a cure-all for anxiety. 

He can hear the mechanics finishing up the repairs of the car, the roar of the external heater as it warms up the engine. His head feels like it’s in some sort of limbo, a weird, meditative dream-state.

10 minutes later, he hears the team principal yell: 

“Alright everyone, it’s showtime. 40 minutes to race start. Where’s Sirius?”

He takes a deep breath, zips up the rest of his racing suit, and walks out to the garage. 

Hey Sirius.

Good luck today, Black.

A couple claps on the shoulder.

You’ve fucking got this. The reds have nothing on you today.

C’mon, Black. 

Let’s go, Black.

He walks out to the grid, arrives at the car, situated front and center, and is yanked back into reality as Evan comes back over with his helmet and comms, the team principal, Archie Meadowes, on his tail.

Sirius finishes putting his helmet on, and gets into the seat. 

“Comms check, testing.”

“Yeah, copy”

“Okay Sirius, you know the drill. You’ve got the greatest chance for overtaking around turns 8 and 11, but be careful going into turns 1 and 2. You never know what can happen, and we’ve seem some crazy shit this season.” 

This was true: more than not, some of the most ridiculous crashes had happened in the first 5 turns of the entire race this season.

“Be careful at 5, 9, 12, and 18: I don’t feel like hearing that you bashed the front fucking wing because some idiot tried to push you off track. None of that today,” Archie continues. 

“And for fucks sake, DO NOT TRY TO RUN LUPIN OFF THE TRACK. No fucking funny business. You can beat him in sheer speed on the straights. Our car has been seriously outperforming theirs recently.”  

Sirius nods, before realizing he can’t really be seen by Archie right now, before replying. 

“Understood.”

“And lastly, good luck, Black, you’ve got this one. No different than the last few races. I’ll talk to you soon.” Archie cuts off his comm.

The rest of the pit crew hauls their equipment off the grid. He’s now alone in pole position, with James Potter in the car to his right, starting second.

The lights go off for the formation lap. The drivers begin their first tour, attempting to keep the tires as warm as possible, as they lack traction without the warmth. They swivel around the track, until ending up right back on grid.

The crowd is roaring. The engine is already hot. He feels a drop of sweat come down his back. 

Sirius feels Potter look his way for a second, but can’t bother to check. The lights begin to go off.

5.

4.

3.

2.

1.

And they’re off!

Sirius makes a great start into turns 1 and 2, defending his position in first. Like Archie warned, two cars took each other out right as they hit turn 3.

He makes it through the first 15 laps without a hitch.

“Alright Sirius, great job so far. We’ll be doing plan B, please copy.”

“Understood.”

“Please box your next lap.”

Sirius approaches the pit lane. Lowers his speed. Approaches the Slytherin garage.

The pit crew change his tires, everything seems to be going well, he’s waiting for the okay to leave the station and get back into the race.

But. No… what’s this? What the fuck just happened?

He can hear the crowd making noise, and the announcer over the loudspeaker.

“What is happening over at the Slytherin pit? Seems like they’re having tire problems!”

The tire wouldn’t go on. The tire gun isn’t pushing it in fully. Another pit crew member has to come over and use their own tire gun. After what feels like ages, but was really 8 seconds, he’s finally out of the pit.

The pit stop was a total of 15 seconds. Fucking unacceptable.

He curses out the engineers on his comms.

“Understood, Sirius, you’ve got time to catch up. Lupin is now in front of you, but your pace is only 1.2 seconds behind him. You’ll be able to pass in the next 3 laps.”

Sirius passes Lupin without a problem, as the other driver ends up going in for his tire change not long after.

The race continues.

They’re approaching the last 3 laps. The end is in sight: Sirius is currently in second place, not far behind James Potter. 

Lupin is in fourth.

On the second to last lap, James and Sirius end up battling for first place between turns 8 and 9. But James prevails.

It’s the last lap. One more attempt to overtake. He remembers Archie’s words, though: “No fucking funny business.”

He doesn’t need to get in front of Potter to win. He just needs to beat Lupin.

The crowd is roaring. The announcers are booming:

“The checkered flag is waved, and Potter crosses the line first for pole position! Followed by Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew! Gryffindor have won the constructors, but Sirius Black has just placed himself second in the drivers’ championship!”

"ALLEZ, SIRIUS!" Archie's voice comes booming into his comms.

He laughs, his smile covering his face. The crowd is screaming. Green and red smoke flares are going off left and right. Sirius waves to the crowd on his out lap, and pulls into parc ferme.

He gets himself out of the car, pumping his fist in the air and waving to the crowd.

He takes his helmet off, puts back on his cap, and makes his way over for the podium celebrations.

And in third place, Gryffindor’s Remus Lupin!

The crowd goes wild, more red flares go off.

And in second, winning silver, is Sirius Black!

More loud cheering: the green fans are going nuts.

And in first, in pole position, winning the drivers’ and the constructors’ championship for his team… 

James Potter!

The crowd loses their minds. The Gryffindor team is front and center, cheering for their players.

Still up on the podium, Sirius turns to Remus.

“Nice fight out there, Lupin.”

“Thanks, Black. You looked good out there today.”

Sirius stares at him.

“Thanks, Lupin.” He nods to him.

They congratulate James, the champagne is popped open, and they begin pouring it all over each other, James trying to drown Remus in Moët & Chandon. 

Sirius cracks a smile at the two of them, before adding in his own champagne onto Lupin’s head.

“Fuck, it’s too much!” Remus laughs, while his hair is being soaked in champagne.

Sirius smiles. James is crying out of laughter. It was a successful season for them.

They get off the podium, and return back for individual celebrations with their team.

“Hey, man of the fucking hour! Congrats Sirius, that was quite the race,” Evan says, clapping him hard on the back.

“This calls for a fucking celebration tonight, eh?” The rest of the garage cheers in accord.

— 

Remus is in the car back to the hotel with James. Everyone’s in a great mood.

He can’t help but feel a little somber at the loss. It was the closest he had ever been. But there was always next year, right? 

It stung just a little, knowing that he lost it all to fucking Sirius Black.

But it wasn’t the time to be upset. They had a championship win to celebrate.

James pipes up. “What a fucking race Remus. I can’t believe another season is done.”

“Me neither. It was a fucking long one, too.”

“I know.”

They sit in silence for a few seconds.

“I just can’t believe I was beat out by fucking Sirius Black.”

“It’s tough luck, Remus, but their car was fucking fast. As long as we come back with the correct upgrades next year we’ll be just as competitive as ever.”

Remus wasn’t fully convinced. After all, James had been pretty secure in his position in first for most of the race. He felt like he hadn’t connected as well with the car this year.

Silence again. They watched the racetrack fade out of view as they drove away.

“Well...” James clears his throat. “You’re coming out with the team later, right?”

Remus laughs lightly. “Of course bro, wouldn’t miss that for the fucking world. We won the fucking constructors’, did you happen to forget? That’s me and you, mate.”

James beams back, and claps him on the arm.

“That’s my boy.”

They arrive back at the hotel, showering and preparing for the team dinner and festivities. 

Remus quickly gives his parents a call to tell them the news, even though he knows they were watching along with him. They briefly catch up, but it’s finally time for dinner.

— 

Dinner comes and goes, with quite possibly the most amount of wine Remus has ever seen in his life. Him and James are the receivers of multiple different toasts, probably over 10 at a certain point. They are all well and properly tipsy, after 2 hours of eating and drinking.

“Aaaalright Remus!! You alright?” James slurs, hanging onto Lupin’s side.

“I’m fucking fantastic Jamesy, what say you we hit somewhere else with the crew?”

“You know, I think that sounds like a fucking wonderful idea mate.”

Someone gets the over a few thousand dollars worth bill. It might’ve been James. Nobody knows. They stumble out of restaurant, and work their way over to one of the louder clubs.

The owners congratulate them, and offer them even more champagne, of course. 

“I could live like this forever,” Remus thinks.

“Me fucking too, mate.” Turns out he said that out loud, as James takes the liberty of replying to him.

They find their way into the VIP section, which is filled with solely drivers and their closer friends. Remus’s coach and PT, Xavier, walks over to them and all but suffocates James and Remus as he hugs them both.

“Oh god, you two, I’m so fucking proud. What a season. What a fucking season.”

Remus smiles, and claps him back on the shoulder after he finally releases them. They had even more toasts with their team, and the world was only slightly spinning. They danced for what felt like hours.

“James, give me a moment mate, I think I might be sick.” He darts off to the bathroom to splash some water on his face. The bathroom is enormous; two separate rooms, one for the toilets, and another just filled with mirrors and seats.

He sits down on the cushioned bench in the powder room attachment, head spinning. He closes his eyes and lays there for a moment.

The door opens. 

“I’m all good, James, I’ll be out in a second.”

A scoff in response.

“Aw, poor wittle Remus. Did you drink too much?” comes a chiding voice from behind him at the door. 

Remus jerks upright. Terrible idea, that one, with his head spinning and all. He almost falls over again, before somebody grabs him firmly by the waist.

He turns, face almost touching the stranger who saved him from sudden death.

And who else, but Sirius fucking Black. His life feels like a sitcom. 

“Oh, christ,” Remus’s eyes widen as he squirms to try to get back down on the seat. He feels like he's about to vomit.

“Fucking relax, Lupin, you look like you’re about to get sick all over this bench.”

“I’m mmmhmmph fine, Black, piss off” Remus says, muffled by Sirius’s sleeve as he is held up off the floor. 

Another scoff. “If you say so!” And he lets go of Remus. He falls to the floor, lacking any sort of balance.

“Owww, fuck, that hurt!” 

“You said you were fine, I put you back down where you were!” 

Remus is realizing Sirius isn’t entirely sober either, as he seems to be swaying around above him. Or maybe he just can’t see correctly, in his drunken stupor. 

Remus all but bangs his head on the floor. What is literally happening right now. He just wants to go celebrate with James. But he cannot. Get off. The floor.

“Fuuuck. I am not getting off this floor right now.”

“Alright, suit yourself.” Sirius plops right down next to him, their backs against the bench, facing the mirrors in the bathroom.

“What the.. fuck?” Remus is shaking his head, mumbling to himself.

“I’m fucking exhausted Lupin, relax. I don’t feel like entertaining anymore.”

Remus turns to stare at him. 

“I- … Okay?”

“So I’m gonna fucking sit here, too.”

Remus is still staring, utterly confused at this entire situation.

“Well … Okay?” 

Remus turns again to look at the floor, head between his knees, trying not to fall asleep. Or throw up.

Sirius Black, man of the hour for the Slytherin crew and his friends, avoiding them by sitting beside Remus Lupin in the bathroom.

Remus thinks that this is the most he’s ever talked to Sirius Black.

A scoff. Clearly he said that one out loud too.

Why does he keep saying these things out loud? He groans.

“You know, you really did drive well today, Lupin.”

Remus perks his head up. The fuck?

“I- thanks? I guess?”

“Whatever, I’m just giving you a fucking compliment, least you could do is take it.”

“No, no, I-“ Remus stumbles over his words. The combination of drunk, next to Sirius Black, and utterly confused about how they even got to this point is throwing him off.

“Cheers. I mean, you did too.”

“You said that already.”

“Oh.”

They sit in silence for a while. Sirius is staring at Remus, as if seeing something for the first time.

“I need to take a fucking piss.” Remus stands up to go over to the toilets. By the time he comes back, Sirius is standing around on his phone texting somebody, now off the ground. He puts his phone away as Remus comes over, staring at him with that same look again.

Remus goes to sit back down on the bench, missing the seat by about 3 inches.

Instead of hitting the ground, he is once again, saved by a pair of thick arms grabbing onto his own. His stomach does a small flip. The fuck?

“I think,” Sirius says, as he guide Remus onto the bench, “you might’ve had enough.”

“Fuck.” Remus replies.

“How eloquent. I can take you back with me to your hotel, if you want. My driver was waiting outside for me anyway. I’ll just have him drop you off at whichever one you’re all staying at.”

Remus stares at him. 

“I…” He stutters, not really knowing how to reply. But his head is fucked, and his stomach is turning on itself. 

He groans at the thought of more alcohol. “Actually, yeah, yeah, that’d be fantastic.”

Remus doesn’t catch the brief look of surprise on Sirius’s face, before it’s wiped away by something much more neutral. 

“Alright, let’s get out of here.”

Sirius pulls him up, arm around his waist, as they walk out of the bathroom. Sirius and James quickly make eye contact. James gives a puzzled look, but Sirius waves his hand towards the exit and James seems to get the idea, by the state that Remus is in.

Sirius’s hand squeezes into the muscles of Remus’s side. He pulls him into the backseat of the car with him, and the driver drives off. Remus lays across the backseat, head leaning on Sirius’s shoulder.

Sirius seems to not be breathing. His arm is still loosely around Remus’s waist.

They pull up at the hotel after about a 10 minute drive. Sirius helps Remus out, then begins to walk with him.

“No, no, Black, it’s fine, I’m fine.” He trips on the curb.

“Yeah, fuck no. Let’s go.” Hand back around the waist. 

Remus is all but falling asleep as they get into the elevator. Sirius gently squeezes his side to force him awake as they make it to his room.

“I think we’re here.”

Sirius lets go of Remus. 

Remus blinks his eyes open to look at the other driver. 

“Well, uh, thanks, I guess, Black”

Sirius stares back.

“Anytime, Lupin. I’ll see you soon.”They stare at each other.

A beat goes by. 

“Well, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Lupin.”

Remus backs into his room, and shuts the door.

He wakes up to 50 thousand texts from the team, about 10 calls from James, a few news headlines about him being absolutely trashed at a club, and a message from a number he didn’t have before. 

Hope you’re feeling okay. I’ll see you soon, probably. Or at pre-season testing. -S

Chapter Text

Remus fell back asleep after waking up at 6 in the morning, nauseous. He was woken up at 8 by Xavier banging on his door.

“REMUUUUS. I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE”

He groans and puts his pillow over his head.

“COME ON”

Nope.

“YOU’VE GOT THE PRESS CONFERENCE TODAY”

Not gonna do it. He could stay in bed a bit longer.

“JAMES IS ALREADY AWAKE”

Who even cares.

“SOMEONE POSTED A PHOTO OF YOU SHIRTLESS FROM THAT PARTY YESTERDAY”

That didn’t happen. Plus, whatever, he’d have looked hot.

“BLACK AND PETTIGREW ARE WATCHING ME DO THIS RIGHT NOW FROM THE END OF THE HALL”

Funny, but definitely not true.

“REMUS I’M COMING IN.”

Uugghhh. He flips around again before he hears the door click open.

“Xavier, what the shit. You couldn’t have just done that earlier?”

Xavier is hovering over him from beside his bed, grinning.

“Nope. The banging was part of the routine. Anyways, GET UP” Xavier says, as he yanks on Remus’s legs. 

He finally relents and gets up, shirtless and thoroughly bed-headed, and walks over to the bathroom.

“—pour Lupin là-bas?” 

Remus catches the end of his name in someone’s sentence as they walk by his hotel door. He turns to look at Xavier with a raised eyebrow, who meets his expression with a smug look on his face, before walking over and opening the door to find none other than Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew walking down the hall, having just passed his door.

The sound of the door opening alerts them, however, and they both briefly turn around. Remus’s eyes connect with Sirius, whose eyes are narrowed. Sirius gives him a once over.

“Morning, Lupin” he says. Looks him up and down.

Remus is trying to comprehend how these situations keep happening.

“Morning... Pettigrew. Black.”

Peter smiles and gives a small wave. Sirius just nods back. 

“You two’ll be at the conference in a bit?”

They both nod. A pause. “Yeah, uh, figured we’d have a bit of a tour of the hotel since we’ve got some time to kill beforehand,” Peter adds.

“Oh, yeah. That, uh, totally makes sense.” 

No it doesn’t, Remus thinks, why would anyone literally ever just go up and down the hallways of a hotel? There’s like, 60 other things they could be doing right now, just in the lobby. 

“Well, I’ll uh, see you guys in a bit.”

“Yeah, see you!” Peter replies.

Sirius gives him another once over, and another nod before turning and leaving. 

Remus comes back in and shuts the door. He turns around, with his back now on the door, and presses two fingers to the bridge of his nose. 

Xavier bursts out laughing. “Are they even staying on this floor? In this hotel?” 

Remus just shakes his head, now also finding it a little funny. “I literally have no idea.”

He finishes getting ready, and picks James up before heading down to the press conference in the lobby of the hotel. 

“Alright, Remus?” James asks, as they descend in the elevator.

“Yeah, fine,” Remus mumbles back, half awake.

The lobby was set up with chairs on chairs and rows on rows of spaces for the audience and journalists to sit. At the top was a panel, with 4 open seats: the drivers would be doing shifts on stage, and second up would be the drivers from Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Their turn comes, and they go up on stage to begin the prep before the televised conference. James sits on the end, then Remus, Sirius, and Peter. 

“Comment je mets ça?” he hears Sirius ask Peter.

“Aucune idée. Faut demander aux staffs.”

They seemed to be struggling with their microphones. A staff member from their team quickly runs over to help them.

After the mics were fixed, they did a quick soundcheck as the journalists took their seats.

“Alright,” the host started, “thank you all for coming, we’ve got the drivers from Gryffindor, James Potter and Remus Lupin, and Slytherin’s Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. We’ll do some prepared questions first, then the floor will open up to Q&A for the rest of the time.”

“First question for the Gryffindor drivers: how do you feel this season went, overall? Did we see some increasing struggles by the end of these 22 races?”

“I can answer this one,” James starts. “Firstly, we definitely want to thank everyone for coming out today, and to all the fans that attended yesterday’s race. It was a pleasure to see everyone as always.” 

James never forgets the fans.

“This season, like many others before it, was definitely challenging. We had a good momentum at the start, and it seemingly kept up. I’m not sure we hit too many struggles, but our competitors were certainly keeping up with us,” he chuckles to himself. 

“If I may,” a journalist semi-interrupts, “would you say that you didn’t struggle just because you placed first? What about you, Remus? What do you think about this season?”

Sigh. Here we go. It was coming either way.

James goes to start talking, to defend his teammate, but Remus picks up the microphone, and lightly touches James’s arm to get him to put it down.

“Well, like James said, the season always gets more challenging as it goes on. It really is a test of endurance. I think there’s always room for improvement, and it helps to have some strong competitors.”

“Well,” the journalist smiles, “that could be true, but you really had the best shot you’ve ever had at the number 2 spot this year. How does a loss like this affect you?”

Remus grinds his teeth a little. He looks over at Xavier quickly, who seems to be giving this journalist a death stare. 

“Of course I’m aware of my own history and standings in the competition, but who doesn’t love a reminder?” The crowd laughed lightly at that.

“Obviously it’s a frustrating situation, but I know I worked as hard as possible with the conditions I was given, and there’s not much to be done after the fact.”

“So are you saying, that if you had a better car, you’d have placed second?” The journalist pushes further.

“No, that’s not at all what I said. Sometimes, in these races, luck isn’t on your side. After all, we’re driving at 200 miles per hour. Crazy stuff happens.”

“Sure, but your teammate seemed to have been doing fine. He is this year’s world champion, after all.”

At this, James stands up abruptly, pushing his chair back behind him. Remus pulls him back down. 

“My teammate has worked extremely hard,” James spits. “Remus and I are not enemies, and Formula 1 teams work as one. While it might be true that we compete for final positions, our constructors’ win means just as much, if not more, for our team as a whole. We win together, and we lose together. It would do you well to not to forget the company you are in.”

“I beg your pardon?” The journalist says, incredulously.

Remus picks up. “I’m not really sure if you’re new here, but the point of this conference is to recap this season, and to talk about our future for the next one. But I appreciate your questions, thank you.”

“Alright… let’s move on.” The host says, slowly. 

“For the Slytherin drivers, how did the car feel this year? What are you expecting out of it for next year?”

“The car was great this year. It felt like we both became more in tune with it as the season went on,” Sirius says, clearing his throat before. His press persona always resurfaces during these conferences. “By the end, Peter and I were both the fastest we’ve ever been. It’s always just a matter of getting comfortable with the new tech, and I expect next year’s to be even better.” 

“What about the cost cap? We heard rumours that the Slytherin engineers had gone wildly over,” says the same journalist as before.

Sirius’s eyes are icy as he looks over to him. “We have gotten where we are fairly and justly, as determined by the FIA. It’s not my place nor Sirius’s to determine the basis for those rumours. We may suggest you look into your sources,” Peter replies, taking hold of the question before Sirius says something brash. 

The journalist rolls his eyes. 

A few more questions come through without interruption. They finish up the Q&A, and head out back into the makeshift green room. 

The door shuts. “The fuck was that journalist’s problem?” Sirius says, as soon as they’re all inside. He paces for a second before heading to the couch.

“I really don’t know. Something was really off about that. Either they’ve never done this before, or they just felt like being really fucking rude. Maybe they’re a Hufflepuff fan,” Peter replied. Everyone chuckled a little at that. It wasn’t that the Hufflepuff drivers were bad, per say, but the car certainly was.

Remus looks dejected. James sits next to him and wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Don’t take that too seriously, Remus. He just wanted to stir the pot. He probably won’t even be allowed into the next conference,” he reassures Remus, quietly. Remus gives a light smile in return, but stares at the ground. He looks up and catches Sirius's eyes, staring at him. He looks back at the ground.

“Do you all have plans for the holidays?” James asked the group, standing up.

“Yeah, actually I’ll be going back to London to stay with my family and spend some time there. It’s been almost a year since I’ve been fully back with them, so I’m looking forward to it.”

“That sounds great, Peter. Remus and I might see you around, in that case. How about you, Sirius?”

“I’ll be going back to Paris for a bit to say hi to my family. My brother and I are gonna be spending most of it together though, in Monaco at my flat.”

Remus almost forgot that Sirius lived in Monaco most of the time. Almost. 

Remus looks up. “I think I’ll be in Monaco for a bit, too. I’m flat hunting.” 

Sirius perks up a bit at this, but it quickly dissipates. He meets Remus's eyes. “Really? Cool. I might know a few agents you could talk to, you know, if you need.”

Remus gratefully accepts the offer: it’s not often that someone has such great connections in Monaco, but if you have the money to spend, those agents will love you no matter what. “Thanks, Sirius. I’ll take you up on that.”

“Yeah, I’ll text you, I’ve got your number somewhere.” Sirius admits. He then pales a little bit. Peter and James look at each other, before sneaking a glance at Remus, confused. Sirius clears his throat. 

“I, uh, right. Yeah?” Remus stares back at him, confused, but assumed Peter probably had his new number somehow and could give it to Sirius anyway.

Sirius looks around at them. “Well, I think Xavier wanted to talk to me before we left, so I’ll… uh, see you guys soon?”

They waved him out. Peter looked around at the two of them, and added on, “yeah, might be good to finish up team briefings, haha. Have a great off season you two!” And he walked out. 

James and Remus looked at each other, and then burst out laughing. 

“I swear I’ve only ever had the weirdest experiences around those two recently,” Remus says, as he turns to look at the plaques on the wall of the room. 

“I mean, he seemed to be kind of okay when he prince charming-ed you out of the party yesterday,” James smirked as he mumbled.

Remus whipped around. He only remembers bits and pieces, and the text message this morning confused the shit out of him. “What did you just say?” 

“I mean, he practically carried you out of there. You were plastered. You don’t remember any of that?”

Remus groans. “Oh god. Only bits, but I didn’t think it was that bad. I got a text this morning and could not, for the life of me, imagine who it could’ve been.” 

Well, he definitely could’ve. It was more a form of denial. Who else would “-S” be? 

James laughs lightly. “Well, I reckon he’s just a bit shy now. I mean, you remember F2 Sirius, don’t you? He was a bit of an asshole, but something seems to have changed this season, at least as far as I can tell.”

Remus thinks. That could be true. Sirius still brooded and sulked around though, and generally was never super peppy. But he definitely had made (or attempted to make) conversation with James and him… or just him… more than ever before. Maybe they’d just gotten used to their positions on their respective teams? Things used to be so awkward when they were on the same team, but maybe they’d both mellowed out a bit. The competition between them, however, definitely remained. 

This year’s winter silly season had really only just begun.