A/N: 'Mad About the Boy' was originally recorded by Dinah Washington, but Jessica Biel also does a rather wonderful version.

Disclaimer: Messrs Moony, Padfoot and Prongs are all the property of Ms. J. K. Rowling

Mad About the Boy

"Are you?"

Sirius tipped his head back and stared at James, flipped upside down, lounging across the carpet. "Am I what?"

"Mad about the boy."

Sirius tuned into Remus' gramophone, Dinah Washington soothing the werewolf to sleep as the snow floated down over Sirius' tiny Lambeth flat. Snow in London was as rare as one of Kreacher's sickening smiles, and the three of them had spent all day out in it, snowballing on Clapham Common.

"Why?"

James shrugged, "Just wondered."

"Nah," Sirius righted himself, the blood rushing to his head. "S'more to it than wonderin'. Spit it out, Jamesy."

James wrinkled his nose at the nickname. "Blast from the past there."

"Oh yeah," Sirius grinned, "Quintessential bit of my best man's speech that nickname. Better let Lily's parents know what they're buyin' into. Pete's taking a Polaroid of their faces when I tell the Niffer story."

James grimaced, and lobbed a shoe at Sirius. "I ban in. Forbid it. I'll bloody hex you silent."

"Aw come on," Sirius was smirking madly. "I could have told them about that time you were wanking in the Common Room an' McGonagall caught you. Polishing your wand in the Common Room is perfectly acceptable, Mr Potter," Sirius simpered, doing his eerie impression of the severe Scottish witch. '"Polishing your wand, however, is not!"'

James snorted, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling. "Hate you, Pads."

"Nah," Sirius grinned, "I'm the diamond in your little sky, James Potter, I'm the Felix Felicitus in your shitty life," he threw his arms out to illustrate his point and nearly fell of the sofa.

"Smooth, Pads," James smirked, as Sirius righted himself, and flicked back his thick hair. "You didn't answer the question, wanker."

"What question, arsehole?"

"Only the question of the fucking evening. You. Mad about our favourite furry little problem." James tipped his head to glance at Sirius, draped across the leather sofa he'd scavenged from the front lawn of some trashy Muggle house.

"Yeah, and you didn't tell me why it mattered, did you, shithead."

"Just wanna know, is all." James shrugged, "You're my best mates. Believe it or not, Pads, I do give a Thestral's backside about your poncy little love life."

Sirius squirmed slightly, his fingers tugging on the hair at the nape of his neck, which was never a good sign. "I dunno," he sighed, and glanced towards were Remus was sleeping, the bedroom door propped open by the leaning tower of pizza boxes.

James groaned, "Can't believe I'm gonna have to ask this. Thought you were meant to be the fucking smart one." He took a deep, melodramatic breath. "Do you love him? Do you love Moons?"

"I dunno, James." Sirius glanced up, a frown creasing his brow.

"What's this then?" James threw his arm out over the flat. "This a month long thing? Year long thing? You havin' doubts, Pads, cos I ain't having you go cold on him."

"Fuck, Prongs, where the hell's this come from?"

James shrugged. "Merlin knows, but you've been acting weird, Pads. Ever since I told you me an' Lily…" he paused, "Every since I told you about the wedding, I dunno, s'like you're having second thoughts or summat."

"Just been thinking."

"'Bout what, though?"

Sirius sighed, and looked away again. "You're roping yourself in, Jamesy. Growing up. Getting married. God knows, you gonna have kids next?" He caught James' slightly dreamy look and shuddered. "I'm not cut out for that. None of it. I don't want that."

"So?" James eyes had lost the dreamy look and he was staring at Sirius uneasily. "You an' Moons aren't exactly in the right business to be sprouting sprogs, are you? I mean," He squirmed slightly. "You're not even legal yet."

Sirius snorted. "You think I was bloody gonna wait till we were 21?"

"Tell me about it, thank god Moons was good at silencing charms or you two'd have be six foot under by the end of fifth year."

There was a long silence.

"I don't get it, Pads," James pillowed his arms under his head, and stared up at the ceiling. "What's the problem?"

Sirius chewed his lip, staring into his hands. "I don't know if I can keep this up. I'm no good at it, Jamesy, the commitment thing. I mean, I dunno if I want this to be it."

James sat up suddenly, his eyes blazing. "Black, I swear if you've been playin' away I'll rip your bloody balls out."

"Nah!" Sirius held up his hands, shock clear in his own face, "Gods, Prongs, I'd never, I just…" He sighed. "How d'you know Lily's, you know, right? How d'you know you're gonna be happy for the next fifty years or for however long you lovebirds are planning on gazin' dreamily into each other's eyes?"

James shrugged, his anger dissipating. "Just do. D'you look at guys in the street and think, well whatever the hell it is you think when you look at Moons?" He looked distinctly uncomfortable, "Do you wanna do whatever poncy things you two get up to with them?"

Sirius thought about it for a moment and then shook his head, "Suppose I don't."

"There then," James grinned, "You think about him all the time?"

Sirius smiled slightly. "God yeah."

"Last thing you think about before you go to sleep?"

"Last thing I do before I go to sleep," Sirius smirked wickedly.

"Filthy fucker!" James lobbed the other shoe at him. "There's stuff even I don't wanna know, Pads."

"Yeah, well you walked into it, Prongs." Sirius smiled, and leaned back into the sofa. "So, what do all my symptoms add up to Doctor Potter. Is it love? Am I bloody mad about the boy?"

James scratched his head, and pretended to make notes into the carpet. "Yes, Mr Black," he announced solemnly. "You are totally buggered. The men in white coats are on their way. I'm afraid it's love."