“Oh, no, please.” Sirius threw his hands up in the air and sighed, a dramatic sound whose impact might have been somewhat lessened by the grin he couldn’t hold back. “Why bother giving old Padfoot a hug now?” he sniffled, his voice rising an octave with each word, “No, I understand. You’ve got what you wanted, there’s no need for pretences anymore.”
“All those long months at Grimmauld I thought, oh, look at old Moony. Coming all the way here to keep lonely old me company. What I friend I’ve got. When in reality you were just using me to get to… To get to… “ his voice rose an octave with each word and Sirius shot a long suffering glance to any passers by. “…My precious wee baby cousin.” He turned away then, and this, Sirius told himself, was entirely done for emphasis.
Yeah. That was it. Emphasis. Made it funnier if he turned his back right then, it did. It had nothing to do with the way his vision had gone bleary after he’d seen James and Remus hugging. Nothing to do with the raw and pained look on Moony’s face. Sirius rubbed at his eyes. Part of the act, you see.
He made a choked sound and draped his arm around Jame’s shoulders, “Come on, let’s get to that sofa then. Best not to stay too close. Turns out you’re just his age—“ Sirius frowned, then gave Jame’s shoulder a pinch. “Good Merlin, James, were you always this damn scrawny?”