When It's All Over

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/26059042.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Major Character Death, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Category: F/F, F/M, M/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationship: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes,
James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Character: Sirius Black, James Potter, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Lily Evans
Potter, Marlene McKinnon, Dorcas Meadowes, Mary Macdonald,
Emmeline Vance, Hestia Jones, Regulus Black, Severus Snape,
Andromeda Black Tonks, Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore, Minerva
McGonagall, Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley
Shacklebolt
Additional Tags: Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship, Slow
Burn, First Kiss, Getting Together, Fluff, Angst, Fluff and Angst,
Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Except for Remus and Tonks'
relationship, Canonical Character Death, Period-Typical Homophobia,
POV Multiple, Marauders POVs, Marauders Era Women POVs, you'll
laugh, You'll cry, you'll mostly cry, Friends to Lovers, Found Family
Language: English
Collections: Ongoing fic
Stats: Published: 2020-08-23 Completed: 2022-10-30 Words: 666,666
Chapters: 106/106

When It's All Over

by sapphic_sprout

Summary

“Sometimes I’m afraid that I love people too much,” Lily said quietly, looking down at her
hands, which were clasped in her lap. “Sometimes I’m scared that it’ll kill me.”

Sirius smiled ruefully, leaning back and taking another drag from his cigarette. “I know
what you mean.”

It was hard to say how the group of eleven-year-olds who turned up on the same day for the
Hogwarts Express became a family, years down the line. Even more difficult to understand
was how they fell apart so quickly. Everyone had a story to tell.

1969-1998

Notes
 A GENERAL CONTENT WARNING: This fic contains both major and minor character
deaths, graphic depictions of violence (sometimes including descriptions of
injury/blood/vomiting), mentions and depictions of child abuse, homophobia, mentions of
racism, implied slurs and the use of the word "queer" as a slur, unplanned pregnancy (only
of Harry and Teddy because we all know they weren't planned, no others!!), underage drug
use (for medicinal and also recreational purposes), suicide (kinda), and referenced/implied
sexual activity of minors. Specific content warnings will be at the beginning of each chapter
in the notes (marked as cw). If you notice I don't have a content warning marked and you
think I should include it, please reach out to me and I will add it! Rated M for mature
topics, not for sexual content.

Okay I know that makes this fic sound scary, which is fair....but I'd love it if you read it
anyway :) Yeah, it's mostly canon compliant (read the tags), but there's also so much gay
and sapphic content which I hope will make you happy (it makes me happy!), the girls get a
bunch of POV time, and the found family is strong, which if you're here and in the
Marauders fandom, I feel is safe to assume you're a fan of. I promise there is so much
joy....before it all comes crashing down.

Anywayyyyyy—I do not support JKR or her shit views. The fact that most of this fic is
canon compliant does not mean that I believe that canon should be prioritized or is better
than AU content, especially given the extremely harmful aspects of the Harry Potter canon.
It's just that my hyperfixation on this fandom is still very centered around what happens in
the books, and probably always will be. That being said, unlike the books, this is a safe
space for people of all races, ethnicities, genders, sexual orientations, religions, sizes, as
well as disabled and neurodivergent people, etc.. I am open to all input on how to make my
stories more inclusive.

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy!

Playlist for songs referenced in chapter titles/chapters of this fic:

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5fWrQ9jt1Aq9wVAcda62Bi?si=e1e15709edf346ff

See the end of the work for more notes

 Part I - 1969-1971: A Taste of Freedom
Chapter Notes

cw: mentions of abuse, violence

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The morning of the last day of October 1969, was as ordinary as any of the thousands of mornings
Sirius had lived through before it, so he never expected the day to be one he would never forget.
He woke to Kreacher’s insistent knocking on his door, which he'd barricaded shut with a chest of
drawers, as he'd taken to doing since his parents had broken the lock on his door, years before.
Privacy was a privilege he'd proven undeserving of, apparently.

Sirius dragged himself to breakfast with his family and sat in the cold, stiff-backed chair in the
dining room with his cold, stiff-backed parents. He endured his standard lecture of the morning
from his father about lateness and deportment, not that he was listening, then was turned over to
his French tutor. He gave his usual blank-faced, indifferent response to his tutor’s reprimands
when he failed to pay attention, and bit back a wince when the tutor rapped him over the knuckles
for looking up swear words in the French dictionary. By the afternoon, he was left alone to peruse
the library by himself—“independent study,” his parents and tutors called it, not that there was
ever anything interesting to read among the dusty volumes, at least, not anything Sirius hadn’t
discovered already.

Still, despite the way the day dragged forwards as almost any other day in his young life had,
Sirius was boiling over with anger by the time he’d been left alone that afternoon. It should be said,
however, that this wasn’t an uncommon feature of a standard day of his, either, though the point at
which Sirius became ready to tear the house apart, bit by bit, varied day by day. That day, it came
early.

As the tutor’s footsteps faded away down the corridor, Sirius pushed his chair back from the table
forcefully and leapt to his feet, raising his middle finger in a careless gesture to the door, at the
same time as employing some of the select swear words he'd learned that day. The satisfaction of
saying them aloud didn’t last long, however, and Sirius didn’t hesitate to stride over to one of the
bookshelves lining the library wall.

He wrenched out a book at random, then hurled it across the room as hard as he could. It hit the
opposite wall before falling to the ground, a few pages sticking out the side. Not bothering to step
forward to grab it again, Sirius began to pace instead, the throwing of the book doing little to calm
his temper.

It was lucky, he thought, that Regulus’ tutors held his brother’s tutoring sessions in the drawing
room, so he wouldn’t be an audience for Sirius’ rage. Of course, it wasn’t really luck, but by
design that they did this, not least because of Sirius’ occasional fits of rage, but also due to his
perpetual disobedience of his tutors’ instructions. Both the tutors and their parents were still
holding out hope that Sirius’ rebelliousness wouldn’t taint the younger Black brother. They were
right to hope it, Sirius thought wryly.

Sirius didn’t dwell long on his gratitude for his brother’s absence, as he was too preoccupied with
the itching, suffocating feeling that was stealing over him, which neither the damage to the book
nor the pacing had alleviated. He sat down again in his chair, raking his fingers through his short,
dark hair, and fought the urge to scream. Screaming could help, Sirius reasoned, but it would also
wake many of the portraits along the walls, which rarely took kindly to such a rousing. And
screaming, after all, wouldn’t change the fact that he was trapped in this dark, gloomy house with
no hope of escaping, which was all he really wanted to do.

Sirius straightened quickly as an idea came to him, as crazy, reckless ideas often did when he was
in this kind of state. It was clear even at nine years old that crazy and reckless were among Sirius’
specialties, and though the two words came with venom from his mother’s lips, and with tired
disappointment from his father’s, Sirius had adopted them as his own with pride.

Standing, Sirius hurried over to where the book lay on the ground and shoved it back into a
bookshelf at random, ignoring the small scuff mark it had made on the wall where it had been
thrown. It wouldn’t do to have Kreacher find the damaged book and tell on him to his parents,
which Sirius knew the house-elf would be all too happy to do.

Sirius then hurried towards the door of the library and out of the room, glancing around the
entrance hall as he closed it behind him as quietly as he could. The hall was silent, the portraits on
the walls snoozing quietly. Eyes darting left and right, Sirius made a bee-line for the hallway to the
front door.

As he drew closer, his pace increased, heart thumping an excited rhythm on the inside of his chest.
He was mad for trying this, utterly mad. If his parents ever found out, Sirius knew that he would
pay dearly for it, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The closer he got to the door, the more
urgent the trapped feeling became, as if there was a kettle of hot water boiling inside of him, and
the whistle was growing more and more piercing with every passing moment.

Reaching the entrance, Sirius reached out to touch the doorknob tentatively, as if it might burn him,
but found nothing but the sensation of cool metal to greet his skin. He swung the door open slowly,
terrified that its creak would alert all the portraits and Kreacher, who would come to whisk him
away. The dark hall behind him remained silent, however, and as Sirius opened the door wider, a
blast of cold, clear air blew past him into the house.

Sirius took a deep breath, a smile slowly spreading across his face. Despite knowing that the
London air must be tainted by car exhaust and cigarette smoke and whatever else polluted the busy
metropolis, Sirius felt as if he'd never breathed anything so pure in his entire life. After giving
himself a moment to enjoy the cool breeze, Sirius glanced behind him furtively before hurrying out
of the doorway and closing the door quietly behind him. He then took the brick steps of the house
two at a time and didn’t stop running until he was two blocks away, at which point he slowed to a
brisk walk.

Sirius continued to walk in the opposite direction from Grimmauld Place with an air of purpose in
his steps, though he truly had no idea where he was going until he reached a bustling main street
filled with shoppers. Barely anyone gave him a second look, despite the fact that he was a child
without a parent in sight in the heart of London. Maybe it was the way he held his head high and
didn’t let confusion or fear cross his features, or perhaps that was just London. Despite living in the
city for his whole life, Sirius didn’t know much more than the inside of the gilded cage that was
his own house, but he was eager to learn.

After being pushed this way and that by the crowd for several minutes as he craned his neck to
look around at anything he could lay his eyes on, Sirius spotted a patch of green as he glanced
down a side street, and veered towards it. After walking only a block, he reached the park nestled
between the busy city streets, which was blanketed with grass and lined with large oak trees. He
stopped at the gate for a moment, observing the children playing in the grass, on the play structure,
and in the trees above, all apparently under the careful eyes of their parents, who sat on park
benches or stood with their arms crossed, gazes trained on their youthful charges.

It occurred to Sirius only then that all of these people—the children and their parents in this park,
as well as the members of the crowd that had jostled him back and forth on the sidewalk—must be
Muggles. In hindsight, it should have been obvious, and yet Sirius was still taken aback by the
sudden realization. he'd never talked to a Muggle before, after all, never interacted with one in any
capacity, nor had he seen one so close. His family members and tutors alike had all told him stories
of both the violence that Muggles had inflicted upon wizards in history and their ignorance and
stupidity. Even as Sirius had grown to distrust his family’s ideas, he was still shocked by how
normal the people before him looked.

Even more shocking, perhaps, was that Sirius desperately wanted to join them in the park, to open
the gate and step into that non-magical world, to play with being one of the careless children who
were carefully watched by their parents, not dreading the beating they would return home to if it
was discovered that they were there. Sirius was so used to playing in the dingy and forgotten
corners of his house on Grimmauld Place, making games with Regulus out of the dust and shadows
and bits of forgotten magical objects they found there. Those sorts of games came with risk, of
course—the risk of coming across something really nasty within the trinkets, which would melt
their faces off or cause them to speak in riddles for the rest of their lives. This kind of game,
however, felt somehow far more dangerous, as the green grass in front of Sirius seemed more of a
luxury than any of the fine things contained in the Black family house. Sirius had never been one to
back down from danger, however. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the gate open and entered.

The hesitation that’d kept Sirius at the gate seemed to leave him in a rush as he entered. After
giving it another cursory scan, he ran over to the large metal structure where he saw several
children his age sitting on plastic seats which swung from long chain links. Sirius sat on an empty
seat and glanced over to the boy beside him before attempting to copy his movements, ignoring the
protesting creak of the slightly rusty chain links as he moved. After a while, he got the hang of the
swing, swinging in tandem with the other children beside him. He let out a careless laugh as he
rose higher and higher, relishing the feeling of weightlessness—a sort of freedom.

After a few minutes, the boy next to him seemed to decide that he was an alright companion and
engaged him in conversation. “What’s your name?” he asked loudly over the creak of the metal as
he matched Sirius’ pace, reaching the peak of their swing at the same moment.

Sirius glanced over to him, taking in the appearance of the Muggle boy critically for a moment. He
had dark hair and eyes and spoke in an accent that Sirius had never heard from any of his family
members or tutors alike, but there was an air of friendliness to his voice that he rarely heard in their
voices, either, and the look he was giving Sirius was earnest.

“Sirius,” Sirius replied at length, deciding finally that if his parents ever discovered that he'd left
the house and ventured into a Muggle park on his own, his punishment wouldn’t differ much if
he'd spoken to the Muggle boy or not.

The Muggle boy looked over at him mid-swing, a perplexed smile parting his lips. Sirius noticed
that one of his front teeth was missing. “That’s your name?” the boy asked bemusedly.

Sirius’ brows knitted, not sure if he was being made fun of or not, and gave a curt nod. The boy
gave a short laugh, but it wasn’t unkind, and, without prompting, offered up his own name: Jack.
He also added his age (ten), which, of course, was about as important to children as their names
when introducing themselves.
“I’m almost ten,” Sirius replied, recalling as he said it that his birthday was indeed right around the
corner if he remembered it right. Jack seemed satisfied with the response, giving him another
toothy grin. While he was remarking that he’d never seen Sirius there before, Sirius’ attention was
diverted from the conversation by the sight of the sandy-haired boy on Jack’s other side launching
himself off the swing at its peak and tumbling to the ground semi-gracefully. Immediately
intrigued, Sirius watched the boy get to his feet and brush himself off, grinning, even as he turned
his head to listen to his mother’s cautionary words from a nearby bench.

Sirius began to pump his legs harder again, trying to get more height, determined to make the same
jump as the other boy had. He would land on his feet, he told himself, competitiveness roaring to
life inside him. Jack seemed to cotton on to the idea Sirius had in his head, as he fell silent and
watched as Sirius reached the peak of his swing and let go of the chains, propelling himself
forward onto the grass in front of the swing set.

There was a moment of complete weightlessness, where Sirius felt like he was really flying, just as
he had the time or two he'd tried out one of his cousins’ brooms in the countryside, before Sirius
landed on his feet, back on solid ground. He stumbled slightly at the impact, which was harder
than he'd expected, but managed to keep his footing, straightening proudly as he did so. A moment
later, Jack landed beside him, almost managing to keep his footing, too, but falling at the last
moment.

“Good one,” the boy who had first jumped commented, giving Sirius a crooked smile as he looked
over at him, looking impressed.

“This is Trevor,” Jack explained as he scrambled to his feet, a slight tinge of pink on his cheeks as
he gestured to the boy, who must be his friend. “We go to primary school together. This is Sirius,
Trev.”

“Funny name,” Trevor commented, moving closer to them and examining Sirius up and down.
“You posh?”

Sirius shrugged. “I dunno,” he said, looking down, his cheeks now burning too. When he glanced
back up, however, Trevor was grinning.

“You sound posh,” he commented, but the careful coolness in his earlier words was gone. “Wanna
see who can climb higher in that tree over there, posh boy?”

The challenge was something Sirius was familiar with, at least, after years of competing with
Regulus, and he perked up at it, returning Trevor’s grin. “You’re on,” he said, and then they were
both racing towards the tree Trevor had indicated, Jack tearing after them, his breath coming out in
pants.

Sirius reached the trunk first, but this didn’t give him much of an advantage, as he paused for a
moment to find something to grab onto, while Trevor, who was slightly taller than him,
immediately took a running leap for a higher branch and swung himself up. Sirius scrambled after
him, grabbing the knots in the trunk to push himself higher, Jack on his heels. For a few minutes, it
was a battle between them, Sirius catching up to Trevor as they climbed, each taking the advantage
then losing it in quick succession. Still, after a while, Trevor began to slow.

“Getting pretty high, innit?” he asked, his breaths sounding a little labored. Sirius smirked.

“Scared of heights?” he asked, pushing confidence into his tone. Trevor shot him a glare that
quickly dissolved into a laugh as he watched him climb higher above him.
“Me mum’s gonna kill me if I break me arm falling out a tree,” he said, finally seeming to admit
defeat and stopping to catch his breath on a lower branch. Below both of them, Jack was nearly at
the same level as Trevor, heaving himself up on a branch beside his friend and looking up
bemusedly at Sirius high above.

When Sirius looked back down, he could see the looks of slight fear and admiration on their faces,
or perhaps that was just what he wanted to see, and he smiled, driven on not just by the thrill of the
height, but also by their reactions. he'd only had Regulus as an audience for so long, it felt good to
show off, and for his performance to land well.

Sirius stopped for a moment to catch his breath and looked out over the park below. The park
looked smaller from this vantage point, and he could see over some of the rooftops of the shorter
surrounding buildings, too. London was huge, Sirius realized for the first time. For all of his life up
until this point, his world had felt so small. Today, it was like London had grown around him as he
watched it, popping up out of the ground to greet him and swallowing him in its vastness.
Somehow, it wasn’t a bad feeling.

As Sirius reached up to climb higher, however, a sharp crack emanated from the branch above him,
and it gave away, sending him tumbling out of the tree with it. He fell past the other boys, who
shouted in alarm as they watched him tumble past in a blur towards the grass below. Despite the
large height he'd fallen from, however, Sirius’ fall was not as fast as one would expect, nor was the
ground as hard as he might have guessed when his feet were firmly planted on it minutes before. In
fact, Sirius managed to land squarely on his feet, though he was immediately knocked to his knees
by the impact. Still, he doubted that he would have anything more than bruises to show for it. Even
more surprising to the boys above was the laugh that Sirius let out as he hit the ground, because to
Sirius, the fall had felt about the same as the jump from the swing, weightless and free.

As Sirius pushed himself up from his knees to his feet, still smiling at the experience, he heard a
frantic rustling sound from behind him and turned to see Trevor and Jack scrambling down the
trunk towards him.

“Are you alright?” Jack demanded, his eyes wide as he jumped the last few feet to the ground,
Trevor landing beside him easily.

“Fine,” Sirius replied, still smiling.

“Christ, mate,” Trevor said, his shocked look quickly replaced by a smile stealing over his face.
“How come you didn’t break your neck? You got some magic looking after you or summat?”

He began to laugh, Jack joining in, and though Sirius tensed at first, he began to laugh with them,
too, after a moment. It was a strange moment, standing in this park in the middle of Muggle
London and laughing with these sort of rude, sort of friendly Muggle boys who were now looking
at him like they’d never seen anything like him. Part of Sirius knew that it would be transient, but
he clung to the dregs of the experience.

After only a moment, however, Trevor stopped laughing, nudging Jack, who instantly sobered,
adopting an expression that might be more appropriate at a funeral than in a park. Looking behind
him, Sirius spotted several adults approaching quickly, anxiety in their expressions. Still, Sirius
was taken aback by the first words out of the mouth of the woman who reached him first.

“Are you hurt, dear?” she asked, her eyes trained on Sirius, rather than Jack or Trevor, who were
looking sheepish behind him. She had dark brown hair and a round, friendly face, and the
expression upon it showed nothing but kindness and concern. Her eyes seemed to flit over his
frame, as if searching for injuries. Sirius shrunk away from the hand she reached out, as if to grasp
his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” he replied, the smile melting off his face as he tried to inch away from her warmth, both
confused and wary.

“That was quite the fall you took!” she exclaimed, though she didn’t try to touch him again, just
examined him from afar. “You should be careful not to climb too high in the future—I always tell
Jack that.”

“Come on, mum,” Jack whined, his voice full of embarrassment. “He said he’s fine!”

A man stepped forward behind Jack’s mother. “Where are your parents, son?” the man asked,
looking at Sirius in the same concerned manner as the woman. “I’m sure they’d be concerned
about the fall you just took, just like Helen and me. Are they around?”

Sirius’ heart began to beat faster, and he swallowed. He knew, without quite knowing how he
knew, that telling this man the truth would be a bad idea.

“My mother and father are at the bank,” he replied, the lie forming easily on his tongue. “They told
me to wait for them here.”

Helen and her husband exchanged a worried glance. “They left you here alone? Well, I suppose we
can just assure them when they come to collect you that you’re alright.”

“There’s no need. I can tell them what happened and that I’m fine,” Sirius said, his hackles rising
defensively. He distrusted the concerned looks on the Muggle couple’s faces. He could never
imagine his mother showing this level of concern for any child that wasn’t her own. Come to think
of it, he couldn’t even bring up any memory of his mother showing this amount of concern for him
or Regulus. Sirius wondered briefly if this was some sort of trap that the Muggles were setting for
him, as if they knew he wasn’t one of them.

Sirius glanced at the watch which lay on the Muggle woman’s wrist, and read upside down that it
was a quarter to three. he'd been away from his house for more than an hour. If he didn’t get back
soon, Sirius knew that his absence would be noted.

“I’m going to go and see if my parents are done at the bank,” he declared, knowing even as he said
it that his words were abrupt and rude. If he’d have brought that tone out at a dinner party, he knew
that his mother would have screamed at him for it. Trevor and Jack both waved after him as he
began to back away towards the gate he'd entered through.

“Come around again sometime, Sirius,” Jack yelled after him, as Trevor added: “Oi, posh boy, you
gotta teach me to land on my feet like that another time!”

Sirius shot them a smile before turning away, though he doubted that he would ever see either of
these Muggle boys again. As he walked towards the gate, Sirius heard the sound of Helen telling
Trevor off fade into the background, a note of affectionate exasperation evident in her voice.

Sirius exited the park as fast as he could without running, hoping that neither the Muggle woman
called Helen nor her concerned husband would follow him. When Sirius found his way back to the
high street he'd walked down before, he looked around, trying to retrace his steps, then headed to
the left, hoping that this was the way that he'd come. After only a few minutes, he began to see
familiar landmarks and finally turned back onto Grimmauld Place.

Stopping in front of his house, Sirius took a deep breath before beginning to ascend the stairs. He
felt as if the oppressive weight that he’d shed when leaving the confines of Number Twelve was
being heaped back onto him with every step he took towards the door, in addition to the dread of
what would happen if anyone had noticed his absence.

Sirius turned the doorknob as softly as he could, knowing as he did so that it would open for him
without a key due to the magic of the house. As it creaked open, he felt a moment of relief in
seeing that the corridor beyond was empty, no snarling face waiting from him just inside to catch
him in the act of sneaking back in. Closing the door softly behind him, Sirius tiptoed into the hall
and was relieved again to find the entrance hall deserted, too.

Sirius mounted the stairs with as much haste as he could without alerting every member of the
household of his presence, taking the steps two at a time until he reached the landing on the fourth
floor and hurried to open the door of his bedroom. As he dashed inside and closed the door behind
him, Sirius let out a great sigh of relief, relaxing for the first time since his return before striding
over to his bed and collapsing onto it. He was safe.

Lying on his vast bed, which dwarfed his nine-year-old frame, Sirius’ mind began to process the
events of his excursion. It was not only the vastness of London but also the breadth of knowledge
he'd gained from his brief trip outside which overwhelmed him. He felt he'd learned more in an
hour and a half in Muggle London than in all of his tutoring sessions combined. As it turned out,
the whole world had been out there all along, with Sirius being none the wiser to what it offered
him that this dark, formal house lacked.

Just then, Sirius heard a creak of floorboards outside his door. He lifted his head, startled, and
scrambled to grab a book from his bedside table, opening it hastily and pretending to read. The
doorknob turned slowly before the door opened to reveal the eight-year-old form of his brother,
Regulus, standing in the doorway and eyeing Sirius suspiciously.

“Where have you been? I looked all over,” Regulus demanded, reproach and accusation evident in
his voice. Sirius did not waste a second to hitch a well-practiced casual and unconcerned
expression onto his face, giving a bored shrug.

“I dunno. I was downstairs for a bit, reading and stuff.”

“I looked downstairs!” Regulus said accusatorially. Sirius grinned at him.

“You must not have looked properly, then, Reg,” he replied, a teasing note in his voice now. He
pushed away a twinge of guilt for lying to his younger brother, as he knew he couldn’t risk telling
him the truth. Regulus had a big mouth, and anyway, Sirius wanted to keep this excursion as
something of his own.

Regulus let out a huff of annoyance and slumped onto Sirius’ bed next to him. “I’m bored,” he
declared, Sirius’ previous whereabouts appearing to leave his mind completely. Internally, Sirius
let out a sigh of relief.

....

Despite Sirius’ fear of punishment, he left the house again a couple of days later. He did not return
to the same park, but wandered more freely about London, observing a great many things. He was
endlessly fascinated by the Muggles’ habits, from their conversations to the places they shopped.
He even ventured into some of those stores, sometimes slipping items he fancied into his pockets
and always leaving each time a clerk asked where his parents were. Over time, Sirius became
skilled at making up excuses to answer these types of prying questions.

After returning home, he perused the large library in the Black house, looking for books that would
give him some insight into the inner lives of the Muggles he observed. After skimming some, he
only confirmed what he'd predicted all along: none of the tomes held anything other than the same
limited view of Muggles that his parents spouted continuously. If Sirius wanted to find out more,
he had to find another source of information.

The next time Sirius left the house, he followed signs toward a Muggle library. There, he pulled out
books at random from the shelves, devouring their contents greedily. He read stories similar to the
ones that his tutors had read to him as a young child, but which contained a different type of magic
than he was used to. He perused fairy tales, fantasy, history, and everything else he could reach. He
even examined some self-help books curiously, not quite understanding their purpose but
fascinated by them all the same. He came back, week after week, during the hours when he knew
his parents wouldn’t notice his absence.

Sirius was fascinated with the way that Muggles wrote about witches and wizards. They had varied
accounts, from fairy tales where witches had warts on their noses and cast curses, to fantasy novels
where magic saved the hero from death. Clearly, magic was not all demonic in Muggles’ eyes
anymore, not like his parents had said.

Though Sirius wouldn’t know the first thing about getting a library card, he got up the courage
after months of visiting the library to “borrow” some books by hiding them under his shirt and
spiriting them back to his house, where he concealed them under his mattress until he was finished
with them. Most, but not all of them, he returned afterward. He relished the freedom it gave him,
meaning that he could devour some of these books in his bored hours in the house on Grimmauld
Place while using more of his stolen hours outside to explore rather than sit between the shelves
and dodge questions from the nosy librarians, who had begun to recognize him. He wasn’t sure
whether they were just suspicious that he was stealing books or if they held genuine concern for a
child who always came in alone, but either way, it made him uncomfortable.

Despite the convenience of taking library books home, however, there was another element of risk
to be considered in this arrangement, and that was the evidence of all his secret excursions over the
years, neatly hidden beneath his mattress. As the months stretched into years and Sirius continued
to sneak out of the house whenever he could, he began to get more confident, but the fear remained.
After all the years of lies and excursions, he knew that if he was discovered now, the punishment
would be monumental. As much as Sirius hated to admit it, he still dreaded his parents’ wrath,
almost as much as he dreaded having the one part of his life he had control over taken away from
him.

One night in the summer before Sirius was set to start Hogwarts, when his family was having his
cousins over for dinner, the possibility of being caught almost became a reality. At a quarter to
seven, Sirius sat in his bedroom, reading one of his forbidden library books with absorption, so
much so that he'd failed to notice the sounds of people arriving downstairs. Sirius didn’t even hear
the sound of the footsteps outside his door on the landing, only looking up as he heard a sharp
knock on his door. He froze, looking up towards the entrance, the book still clutched in his hands.

After a moment, where Sirius’ terrified brain scrambled to make his hands move, the door opened
to reveal his second-oldest cousin, Andromeda, standing in the doorway and peering in at him. Six
years older than he, Andromeda would be starting her seventh year of Hogwarts as he began his
first in the fall. She had long, light brown hair, wide grey eyes like Sirius’ own, and despite her
well-bred and proper manner, exuded an air of kindness that neither her older nor younger sister
had ever managed.

Sirius hastily shoved his book under the covers of his bed, but not quickly or casually enough for it
to not look suspicious. Andromeda raised her eyebrows, giving him a wry smile.
“Your mum asked me to bring you down for supper,” she said. Her eyes drifted to the patch of
covers that hid the book, and, after giving a quick glance back to the landing, she edged in through
the doorway and shut it behind her. “What have you got there?” she asked, gesturing towards the
lump on the bed.

Sirius gulped, his brain, though well-practiced at fibbing, suddenly drawing a blank. “Nothing,” he
blurted out, and Andromeda gave him an amused look in response, almost as if she was asking him
to try again.

He fumbled over a better excuse, but she only strode towards him, ignoring his words, and
extended her hand for the book wordlessly. Sirius’ blood ran cold, but he dug around under his
covers and placed it in her waiting hand nevertheless, hanging his head in defeat. He wondered
what she would do—if she would tell his mother. If she did, would he even be allowed to attend
Hogwarts in September, or would he be locked in this house for the rest of his life?

There was a moment of silence, where he didn’t dare look at her, then she spoke. “The Chronicles
of Narnia were my favorite when I was your age, too,” she said. Sirius’ head jerked up at her
words, staring at her in abject disbelief. Her eyes were twinkling, and she was giving him a soft
smile. Sirius could only gape at her for a moment before finding his voice.

“You were allowed to read Muggle books when you were my age?” he demanded in a stage
whisper. Andromeda shot him a mischievous half-smile and a wink.

“Of course not. And I gather you aren’t, either?”

Sirius shook his head, dumbfounded. Andromeda gave him a reassuring but slightly reprimanding
look.

“You should be careful when you read those and hide them well,” she said, handing the book back
to him. He tucked it under his mattress for safekeeping, and Andromeda watched him do it before
offering him her hand. “Come on, let’s go downstairs before we both get in trouble with your
mum.”

Sirius took her hand, still shocked by the exchange. “Thanks, Andromeda,” he said. Andromeda
glanced back at him as she opened the door and waved him out onto the landing ahead of her.

“Anytime, Sirius,” she replied and gave him another small, mischievous smile. “And you can call
me Andy if you want.”

Sirius nodded, still shocked by the exchange, and began to descend the staircase. he'd never been
close with any of his cousins due to their age difference, and the fact that none of the children were
allowed to speak much during family gatherings. Still, this interaction with Andromeda alone made
him wish desperately that he could talk to her for longer. It had never occurred to him that any
member of his family had ever defied the strict rules set to them before him, which had only added
to his deep sense of isolation from the rest of his relatives. Now that he knew Andromeda had bent
these rules, too, he felt a strong urge to tell her about his adventures and what he'd learned about
the world outside Grimmauld Place. Perhaps she even knew more than he did. Unfortunately, he
had no opportunity to speak to her that evening, or at any other point that summer.

Sirius’ secret excursions felt like another life he lived, unknown to any member of Number Twelve,
Grimmauld Place. Still, the more time he spent in Muggle London, the greater his discontent
became with his lot, and the more trapped he felt when inside the confines of his home. By the end
of the summer and with the looming prospect of escaping to attend Hogwarts at last, Sirius was
exploding with rage against his family. He was tired of biting his tongue at every family dinner
and in every conversation with his parents.

He'd learned by then, by observation and by reading, that not every family was like his. He'd seen
parents in parks watch their children with concern and love in their eyes, and run after them to care
for them as they fell down or scraped their skin on the dirt. He escaped into stories of children who
grew up in families that tucked them into bed every night, and didn’t meet minor missteps with
beatings and screaming.

Sirius didn’t know how to communicate any of what he'd learned with Regulus; he had no idea
how he would even begin. Sirius was terrified that if he shared any of his adventures with Regulus
that his brother would go to his parents, or, even worse, that he might begin to repeat what Sirius
said and be punished for it. Sirius knew that Regulus hero-worshiped him and had always had a
habit of following Sirius around, copying him in both word and action. Sirius had never minded
this before, as he loved his brother, and the two lonely boys found much-needed company in each
other in the face of their parents’ indifference and outright cruelty, but this was different. Sirius was
taking the risk of sneaking out of the house and reading all these forbidden books on his own, and
he would make sure that Regulus couldn’t be harmed by it.

In addition, Regulus had never learned the same kind of caution Sirius had growing up, and in the
past, Sirius had often claimed responsibility for Regulus’ blunders, taking the punishments himself
to spare his younger sibling from them. Sirius wondered sadly sometimes whether it might be a
kindness for Regulus to be in the dark about the misery of their lives compared to those of most
other children. It was not as if either brother could change the circumstance of their lives, and so
perhaps it was better for Regulus to be kept in the dark. Therefore, Sirius resolved to keep his rage
inside and bite his tongue, even when it took all of his effort to do so.

In later years, Sirius would regret his silence as much as he regretted the shield he'd become
between his parents and his younger brother. He couldn’t help but wonder whether, if he'd spoken
his mind earlier, or let his brother learn the cruelty of his parents himself instead of shielding him,
things would have turned out differently for the two boys. He would never know.

Once Sirius received his letter from Hogwarts with his school list, Walburga consented to oversee
his trip to Diagon Alley to get his school things, which she did mostly without comment, either
positive or negative. Sirius, though extremely excited, knew that he couldn’t show it in his
mother’s presence, so he bottled his feelings inside as they went about collecting his school
supplies.

It was difficult, however, to keep his delight hidden when his mother bought him a handsome barn
owl, commenting: “This is the only acceptable pet for someone of your station.” Sirius tried hard to
fight the enthusiasm in his voice as he thanked her.

The trip to Ollivanders, however, was Sirius’ favorite by far. After trying out several wands, he
knew the one that was right as soon as he picked it up, as a feeling of pure electricity ran down his
arm into his entire body, making him pulse with power. Sirius couldn’t contain his grin this time as
the wandmaker clapped his old hands together and declared it the perfect match, ignoring his
mother’s presence in the background. For a fleeting moment, he imagined turning on her with it
and transfiguring her into a toad, helpless and croaking before he trapped her in a glass jar and told
her: How do you like it? He relinquished the vision quickly, however, allowing his mother to pay
for the wand and hurry him out of the shop.

....

Sirius’ parents said goodbye to him on the morning of September 1st, 1971 with a curt reminder to
“remember his station while he was at Hogwarts,” letting Kreacher apparate him to a secluded spot
 outside of King's Cross Station. As the house-elf disapparated again, leaving Sirius to find his own
way to the platform, Sirius felt the freest he'd ever felt in his life. He remembered what his father
had told him about platform nine and three-quarters, quickly finding the barrier between platforms
nine and ten and striding through it with his trolly after looking to see if any Muggles were
watching. As he appeared on the platform, his elation grew.

The place was packed with students, who were running around greeting friends, putting their things
onto the train, and allowing their parents to give them tearful goodbyes and last reminders. It was
loud and thrumming with warm energy, the kind of environment Sirius knew he would thrive in,
unlike the cold silence of Grimmauld Place. A wide smile split his face as he realized that he
wouldn’t have to see his parents, or be in that house, for three whole months.

Sirius heaved his trunk onto the train and leapt up after it, dragging it into the luggage
compartment. Once he'd deposited his luggage, he walked down the corridor of the train, trying to
resist the urge to skip, and slid open the door of the first compartment he spotted, which was
empty. He settled down in a middle seat and glanced out towards the platform, surveying the scene
with glee. A feeling of possibility spread through his body, and he grinned.

When the whistle on the train blew, the platform began to empty rapidly as the other students
clambered into the train, not wanting to be left behind. After a few minutes, the compartment door
slid open, and Sirius turned his head to see another boy who appeared to be his own age at the
threshold. He had warm brown skin, very messy black hair, and hazel eyes behind round-rimmed
glasses.

“Alright if I join you?” asked the boy, a friendly smile spreading across his face. Sirius grinned
back.

“Of course!” he exclaimed, then hoped he hadn’t come off too strong.

The messy-haired boy threw himself into the seat across from Sirius, surveying him curiously
before introducing himself and engaging him in conversation. Another whistle sounded, and the
train lurched into motion, gaining speed as it moved out of the station, leaving London behind.

Sirius gazed out of the window as the train sped quickly into the countryside. He looked out past
the expanse of green fields towards the horizon, bright with the midday sun. Never before, Sirius
thought, had anything looked so hopeful and promising in his life. Whatever adventures were in his
future, he felt sure they would be even greater than any he'd had thus far.

Chapter End Notes

Btw, I know the first part of this chapter is set on Halloween (because I'm extra like
that and we all know it's a significant date for the Marauders, so y'all better buckle up
for the parallels I'll be making with it later on) but the reason there's no reference to
kids in costumes is because in most parts of England, no one was yet dressing up in
the 1970s. In Ireland and Scotland, there've been traditions around October 31st for
centuries because of its roots in the Gaelic festival Samhain, but as far as Google has
told me, in England, Halloween wasn't really a big celebrated holiday until later and
still is less so than in the US.

Hope you enjoyed this first chapter!

 1971: The Adventures of James Potter
Chapter Notes

This chapter incorporates one of the flashbacks scenes from Harry Potter and the
Deathly Hallows.

When James Potter ran through the barrier separating platform nine and three-quarters from the
rest of King’s Cross Station and saw the Hogwarts Express for the first time at the age of eleven,
he thought it was the most beautiful sight he'd seen in his entire life. Accordingly, he forgot to stop
running, and nearly crashed into a girl with dark brown skin and long, braided hair, who looked to
be about his age. She only rolled her eyes at him, a slightly amused look on her face, and moved
away with her family.

“Sorry!” James called after her, but she didn’t look back at him, and he turned, beaming, to wait for
his parents, who appeared moments later, striding through the barrier together.

“Did you even bother to look to see if any Muggles were watching before you went through?”
Euphemia asked exasperatedly, looking down at her son with a fond smile that belied her words.
She had bronze skin like James’ own, which denoted her Indian heritage, but her eyes, with
prominent smile lines at the corners, were darker than her son’s. “You just raced right through the
station before we could stop you.”

“I can’t help that I’m excited,” James returned, not remotely abashed, a wide grin on his face.

“I’m sure no Muggle would believe their eyes even if they'd spotted him, Euphemia,” Fleamont
reassured his wife. His pale skin was at odds with that of his wife and son, but the hazel eyes
behind wire-rimmed glasses were identical to James’, right down to the quietly mischievous
sparkle in them.

“Yes, well, I’d rather have him on the train before I get any letters from the Ministry about
underage magic or breaches of the Statute of Secrecy,” Euphemia returned. “Merlin knows I’ll be
glad when it’s your professors who have to deal with your mischief making. Just make sure not to
get in too much trouble, beta.”

James just grinned back at her. He was well used to the way his mother shifted smoothly from
exasperated scolding into affection, after all these years of bringing such a reaction out in her. He
lived to keep them on their toes, and doing so was not so much an effort on his part as a default
setting. The way his parents told it, James had been intent on causing mischief ever since he'd
learned to crawl, and by the time he was walking, no one was safe.

In James’ defense, he'd been born with approximately ten times the pent-up energy as the average
kid, and though his parents scolded him for the way he used that energy sometimes, they also
loved him for it. It wasn’t their fault, either, that the country home he'd grown up in never seemed
to quite satisfy his boisterousness, leading him to find other outlets, outlets which were at times
rather explosive in nature. Then there was the aiding and abetting from one Marlene McKinnon to
consider, so despite the watchful and often disapproving eye of Dorcas Meadowes, the blame for
the mayhem they caused could hardly be laid completely on James’ young shoulders.
“I suppose we should get your trunk on the train,” Fleamont said, checking his watch. “It ought to
be leaving in a few minutes, and you’ll want some time to find a compartment, too.”

Fleamont helped James with his trunk, hoisting it onto the steam engine and into the luggage
compartment. James had no pet, as the family owl, Edelweiss, would be staying at home, so he had
no other luggage. All of his efforts to convince his parents to let him smuggle his broom in had
been, very unfortunately, unsuccessful.

He jumped back off the train, his father climbing down behind him, and went to say goodbye to his
mother, who was obviously trying hard not to cry.

“I’ll write to you all the time,” James promised, leaning up as far as he could to hug her. Euphemia
sniffed, stroking her hand over her son’s messy black hair.

“The house will be awfully quiet without you in it,” she replied, pulling back from him and
hoisting a watery smile onto her face. James returned her sad smile, a pang of homesickness
already beginning to wash through him. She cupped his cheek with her hand, smoothing her thumb
over his skin. “I know you will have a lovely time, though, beta. You must be sure to enjoy it.”

“I will,” James replied, smiling, and turned to hug his dad. Fleamont, too, looked rather mournful
and held on for longer than usual. Once he drew back, however, he surveyed James proudly. James
beamed up at them both, his hair sticking up in every direction, as ever.

“Are you going to sit with Dorcas and Marlene on the train?” Fleamont asked, scanning the crowd
for the McKinnons and Meadoweses briefly, to no avail.

“I haven’t seen them, but I reckon we’ll find each other at some point along the journey,” James
replied carelessly.

A whistle sounded on the platform, the first warning that the train would be leaving in a minute or
two. James’ parents ushered him onto the steam engine, waving their goodbyes tearfully from the
platform, and he waved back before turning and making his way down the hallway, peering into
the compartments on either side. While the one to James’ right held four chattering older students,
the compartment to his left was empty but for one boy who looked like he might be in first year,
too. Another whistle sounded through the platform as James slid the compartment door open,
grinning as the other boy looked up at him curiously.

“Alright if I join you?” James asked, raising his eyebrows and grinning.

“Of course,” the boy replied, smiling and gesturing for James to sit. James judged from the telltale
clipped consonants that this boy must be from one of the home counties, and probably had been put
in elocution lessons to boot, to speak as he did. This impression was only further solidified when
James closed the door behind him and took a seat across from the other boy, able to examine him
more closely. He had dark brown hair and grey eyes, and looked to be about an inch or two shorter
than James, but with his pin-straight posture, they might be mistaken for the same height when
standing.

“I’m James Potter,” James said, reaching out a hand for the other boy to shake. The dark-haired
boy shook it, still smiling at him in a rather nervous way.

“Sirius Black,” he introduced himself. James felt a twinge of recognition at the surname, though he
couldn’t quite place where he'd heard it before.

“You’re a first year, right?” James asked, rather than inquiring about his family name.
“Yeah, you too?” Sirius asked, looking hopeful.

“Yeah, I am,” James confirmed, grinning. “I’m thrilled to be going to Hogwarts, finally, aren’t
you? I’ve heard so many awesome things about it.”

“I’m excited, too,” Sirius agreed. “Honestly, though, no one in my family ever goes into specifics
about what it’s like, so I don’t know quite what to expect.”

James beamed and launched into an excited explanation of all the things he'd read or been told
about Hogwarts, from the ghosts to the secret passages that littered the castle. “And I heard that the
grounds are huge, and the lake has a Giant Squid in it! It all sounds so brill. I’m going to explore
every inch of it when I get there!”

Sirius had stared at James intently during his explanation, drinking in every word with a slight
smile on his face. When James finished, Sirius commented: “That does sound brill.”

The slang word sounded strange in his Queen’s English accent, and James tried to suppress his
smile, not wanting the other boy to think he was being made fun of. Sirius continued, not noting
James’ reaction.

“I’ve never been allowed to explore so much before. Like, a whole castle and its grounds? Sounds
amazing.” There was a wistful sort of look on his face, and he glanced out of the window as he
spoke, as if the expanse of space outside was nothing like he'd ever seen.

“Well, there are lots of rules, to be sure,” James said, quirking a mischievous, crooked grin.
“Although I’m sure I’ll be able to find my way around them.”

Sirius laughed, his grey eyes twinkling warmly, and James grinned wider at the sound, the boy’s
laugh sounding much more relaxed than his clipped words. If he played his cards right, he thought
that Sirius might make a great companion for rule-breaking. Just then, the door of the compartment
opened again, and both boys looked up to see a girl in the doorway with pale skin, dark red hair,
and striking green eyes. James was startled by this astonishing collection of features and only
registered the frown on the girl’s face a moment later.

“Can I sit here?” the girl asked, her voice small. Both James and Sirius nodded in unison, each
smiling at her in turn. She walked past them and sat down in the corner by the window, far away
from them, and they shared a confused look before resuming their conversation, recognizing that
she obviously wanted to be left alone.

“So, where are you from?” James asked Sirius.

“I live in London with my family,” Sirius replied, his grin faltering.

“So, I guess you don’t get to see much of the countryside?” James said, trying to imagine growing
up in a city, without the stars laid out above him every night. Perhaps that was why Sirius looked
so awed at the prospect of the castle grounds.

“Not much of it, no,” Sirius said, frowning slightly. “I don’t get to see much outside my own
house, actually, unless I go out on my own.” His words were nonchalant, his expression neutral, but
James couldn’t help noticing the way his fingers had begun to worry the cuff of his sleeve. James
wondered if these excursions were sanctioned by Sirius’ parents, as he himself couldn’t imagine
being allowed to—or even wanting to—go out in the middle of a bustling metropolis on his own.

“I can’t imagine growing up in a city,” James commented instead, hoping to distract Sirius from
whatever was troubling him. “My family lives in the countryside, in the west of England. You
probably wouldn’t even recognize the name, it’s so far in the middle of nowhere.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sirius asked, leaning forward with a look of interest on his face. “What’s that like?”

“Pretty brill,” James said, smiling again as he thought of his home. “We live near the top of a hill,
so there’s practically no one else around for miles. There are woods on our property, a pond for
swimming, and I can practice Quidditch in a clearing just up the hill.”

“That sounds amazing,” Sirius commented a little enviously. “I’ve flown a little, when we go over
to my cousins’ house, but I wish I could do more of it.”

“At Hogwarts, we can fly all the time!” James exclaimed, practically bouncing in his seat, his
words coming out fast and excited. “Of course, we’re not allowed our own brooms until second
year, so we’ll have to put up with the old, school brooms, but still! We get lessons, too, not that I
really need them.”

They continued to discuss what was awaiting them at Hogwarts for the next few minutes before
the compartment door opened once again. They both glanced up to see who it was and took in the
appearance of another boy their same age, already in his Hogwarts robes, with long black hair and
a hooked nose. He ignored them and shut the compartment door before going to sit down across
from the red-headed girl. Sirius raised his eyebrows at James, smiling amusedly at the boy’s
rudeness, and James shrugged back, grinning too, before going back to their conversation about the
subjects they would be studying.

They ignored the red-headed girl and her companion for another minute or two before their
conversation increased in volume, and James’ ears perked up as he heard the boy mention houses.

“Slytherin?” He asked, raising his eyebrows at the black-haired boy who had spoken and grinning.
“Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?”

He turned to Sirius as he said it, hoping he would share in the joke. From all James had heard
about the house from his father, the McKinnons, and the Meadoweses, it was clear that blood
status prejudice still ran deep within its core. He didn’t know why anyone would want to be a part
of that legacy. To his disappointment, however, Sirius looked shifty and didn’t smile back.

“My whole family have been in Slytherin,” he admitted, grimacing slightly. James raised his
eyebrows, caught off guard by the news.

“Blimey, and I thought you seemed alright!” he joked, hoping that Sirius wouldn’t hold his earlier
comment against him. James was relieved when Sirius’ face broke into another mischievous smile,
though there was a glint of something hard in his eyes.

“Maybe I’ll break the tradition,” he said. “Where are you heading, if you’ve got the choice?”

James imitated lifting a sword in front of him playfully. “Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at
heart!” he announced, repeating the words he'd read in Hogwarts, a History. He dropped his hand,
grinning. “Like my dad.”

The hook-nosed, black-haired boy let out a slight snort of disgust which he made no effort to
disguise. James turned to glare at him, “Got a problem with that?”

“No,” the boy sneered, “If you’d rather be brawny than brainy—”

“Where’re you hoping to go, seeing as you’re neither?” Sirius interjected, and James roared with
laughter, glad that Sirius obviously shared the same immediate distaste he had for this boy with his
cold sneer and superior tone. The red-haired girl stood abruptly, her cheeks flushed, and glared
from James to Sirius.

“Come on, Severus,” she said, a self-righteous note in her voice. “Let’s find another compartment.”

“Oooo…” James and Sirius imitated in unison, laughing together, James sticking out his foot to trip
the greasy-haired boy as he followed the girl out of the compartment.

“See ya, Snivellus!” James called after him as the compartment door slammed behind them. He
turned to Sirius, rolling his eyes. “They were friendly.”

Sirius was still glaring out of the compartment door after the pair. “I don’t know why anyone
would want to be sorted into Slytherin if they had the choice,” he said, shaking his head bitterly.
He sighed deeply, then looked back at James, and, clearly noticing the concern on the other boy’s
face, hitched his grin back up. “I heard from my cousins that their dormitory is underneath the
lake, so it’s all gloomy and slimy-looking down there.”

James let out a rather feeble laugh, a moment too late, unable to disguise the curiosity in his gaze as
he looked at Sirius. “Your whole family was really in Slytherin? Like, everyone?”

Sirius nodded, smirking in a detached sort of way. “Everyone that I know of. Crazy, right? I even
have two cousins still there—one in seventh year, one in fifth.”

“I can’t even imagine,” James replied, shaking his head, a crease between his brows. “Do your
parents want you to be in there, too?”

“That’s the expectation, yes,” Sirius said, running a hand through his short hair with a tired look on
his face. “Though, like I said, I’m not too keen on the idea.”

“Maybe you’ll be in Gryffindor with me instead,” James said, trying to cheer the other boy up.
Clearly, his family was a sore subject. Sirius quirked a smile, perking up at the idea.

“That’d be good,” he replied. Just then, the door of the compartment opened again, but this time,
James looked up in relief to see two familiar faces grinning back at him.

“We wondered where you’d gotten off to,” Dorcas said, entering the compartment and sitting down
next to James, her dark brown curls bouncing merrily as she did so. Marlene followed, smiling at
Sirius before throwing herself into the seat next to him, across from Dorcas.

“And I was wondering how long it would take you to find me,” James replied, grinning back at
them.

“We met some people, got caught up,” Marlene said, rolling her eyes at him. “You didn’t bother to
look for us, did you, now?” There was a hint of laughter in her casual, lilting Irish accent.

“I’ve been busy replacing you two,” James joked, gesturing across at Sirius, who was looking a bit
out of place in the face of their obvious familiarity with one another. “Dorcas, Marlene, this is
Sirius Black. Sirius, this is Dorcas Meadowes and Marlene McKinnon,” he said, pointing at each of
them in turn.

Both girls smiled at Sirius, Dorcas giving him a friendly little wave. They were as opposite as two
best friends could be, even in appearance, James thought, imagining how they looked from Sirius’
point of view. Dorcas Meadowes had dark brown skin, a slight smattering of freckles across her
nose, dark eyes, and very curly brown hair that just reached her shoulders. Marlene McKinnon was
pale, with every inch of her skin covered by freckles, blue eyes, and wavy, dirty blonde hair. Then
there were their personalities: Dorcas was kind and down to earth, while Marlene was wild and
rebellious. And yet they'd always had an inseparable bond that James had never been able to touch,
forged in the four years before he'd met them both. He didn’t resent it, really, but it had made him
feel lonely at times.

“Black?” Dorcas questioned, raising her eyebrows slightly in surprise. “Isn’t your family part of
the Sacred Twenty-Eight?” James glanced over at her in surprise before his gaze fell back on
Sirius, and conceded that maybe this made sense. Sirius spoke in a perfect posh accent, had the
posture of an aristocrat, and came from a family full of Slytherins. It fit. What was unusual,
however, was the look of discomfort that passed over Sirius’ face at Dorcas’ words.

“Yes,” he replied shortly as if admitting a shameful secret. Dorcas smiled at him, a gently teasing
expression on her face, one which James knew had been carefully crafted to set Sirius at ease while
getting the information she wanted.

“You don’t believe any of that stuff, though, do you? Blood purity and all?”

“No, of course not,” Sirius replied hastily. “I mean, my family does, but I don’t.”

“Good,” Dorcas said, still smiling at him. “We’re all purebloods too, Jamie and Marley and I, but
you’d never find us on that old list.”

“Us blood traitors have got to stick together,” Marlene added, grinning as she looked from James to
Dorcas, a conspiratorial sparkle in her eyes. Sirius’ gaze fell on her, blinking in surprise for a
moment.

“So, your parents don’t believe in any of it, either?” he asked finally. The other three all shook their
heads, looking at him curiously. “Must be nice,” Sirius commented, sighing.

“Well, if you get sorted into Gryffindor, you won’t have to hear much of that stuff anymore, at
least not at Hogwarts,” James reassured him.

“Oh, yeah, Gryffindor is the best by far,” Marlene cut in, her easy smirk from earlier not having
left her face. “If we’re not all put in the same house, it’s a crime,” she said, her gaze flitting across
to Dorcas.

“Have you all known each other for a long time?” Sirius asked, obviously bursting with curiosity,
gaze flickering between the three. James wondered if Sirius had had any other companions his age
growing up. he'd been sitting alone, after all.

“Marlene and I have known each other since we were three,” Dorcas explained. “And we met
James, here, when we were all seven. Our parents all run in the same circles, and my mum and
Marlene’s dad work in the Ministry, which is how we know each other.”

“Wow,” Sirius said, clearly not even bothering to conceal the note of envy in his voice this time.
“That must have been nice.”

“I’ll be glad to have people to hang out with other than these two,” James told Sirius quickly,
trying to reassure the other boy that he wouldn’t be passed over for already-established friendships,
glancing over at Dorcas and Marlene teasingly as he did so. “We’re all quite sick of each other after
years with only the three of us.” Marlene stuck out her tongue at James in retaliation, though
Dorcas only smiled.

“We’ll be glad to be rid of you, too, James,” Marlene retorted. She glanced over at Sirius, meeting
his gaze and continuing in a dramatic stage whisper: “You’ll soon understand how annoying he can
be, but he’s like a barnacle, once he’s latched onto you, you won’t ever get him free.”

James opened his mouth in outrage as Dorcas dissolved into giggles, snorting slightly as she rolled
around her seat. Sirius began to laugh along with her a little cautiously, but James was glad.
Obviously, they'd all passed some sort of test in the other boy’s mind.

James, Marlene, Dorcas, and Sirius spent the rest of the train ride joking and laughing, talking
longingly about what Hogwarts would be like, and gorging themselves on sweets when the trolley
came around. Before they knew it, they were pulling into Hogsmeade station and the four of them,
freshly changed into their school robes, were descending onto the platform.

A loud, booming voice came from somewhere down the platform, and as James looked toward it,
he spotted a large, swinging lantern. “Firs’ years, firs’ years over here! C’mon, now!”

James looked at Sirius, Marlene, and Dorcas, then began to push through the crowd, leading the
way toward the voice. As they reached it, they found that a group of students their own age had
already formed around the enormous man who was holding the lantern. James looked up at him,
mouth open slightly, squinting to make out his features in the light. He was larger than any person
James had ever seen in his life, and had long, tangled, brown hair and a beard to match. Despite his
intimidating appearance at first glance, James thought he could make out a look of warmth and
kindness in the man’s small, crinkled, beetle-black eyes. Once the crowd of older students began to
move away towards the school and it seemed that no one else was going to join the group, the man
gestured for them to follow him towards a steep downward path.

It was very dark, and James felt like his heart was in his throat from excitement as he followed the
rest of the first years, trailing after the giant man. The whole group gasped as they passed around a
bend and caught sight of a great castle on the hill.

“Yeah, that’s Hogwarts castle. We’ll be there soon,” the large man explained when he realized that
the first years had stopped to admire the view, before continuing on down the path, the young
witches and wizards scrambling to follow him.

The path stopped abruptly in front of them at the edge of what James knew must be the lake,
which, rumor had it, contained the Giant Squid. James was almost trembling with excitement now,
and he clambered swiftly into one of the small boats along the bank, followed by Sirius, Marlene,
and Dorcas. Once all the students were loaded into the boats, they broke off from the bank and
began to propel themselves across the lake, moving slowly but surely towards the castle.

“This is brilliant!” James whispered to Sirius next to him, fidgeting in his seat, unable to contain
his excitement any longer. Sirius grinned back and nodded, trailing his hand in the water below
him.

“Watch out for the Giant Squid,” James reminded him, only partly joking. Sirius laughed but
withdrew his hand from the water. They soon arrived at a small, underground harbor, and climbed
out of the boats onto the opposite bank. James stumbled slightly as he got out, but righted himself
quickly, hoping no one had seen, and began to follow Hagrid up a stone passageway until they
reached the large, oak-front doors of Hogwarts castle.

The doors opened upon the large man’s knock to reveal a tall, stern-looking woman. “Thank you
for bringing the first years, Hagrid. I will take them from here,” she said in a clipped Scottish
accent, nodding to the giant man. “My name is Professor McGonagall,” she told the gathered
students, before turning and leading them into an empty chamber off of what must be the Great
Hall, given the noise James could hear issuing from it.
“Welcome to Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall said, turning to the first years once they'd all
gathered in the chamber and their fidgeting died down. “We will soon begin the start-of-term feast,
but before we do that, the Sorting will take place, where you will all be placed into a Hogwarts
House. While you attend this school, your house will be like your family. You will eat with them,
attend classes with the housemates in your year, sleep in your House’s dormitory, and spend your
free time in the common room. In addition, every member of each house can gain and lose points
for their own house. These points will be used to determine who will win the house cup at the end
of every year. Your house may earn points through lessons, Quidditch gains, and other
achievements, while rule-breaking will lose you points, so remember to behave yourself. The four
houses are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin.”

McGonagall paused to look around at all of them for a moment as a few excited whispers emerged
from the crowd, then continued. “I am going to check to see if the rest of the school is ready for
you. I recommend you try to smarten yourselves up in the meantime, as the Sorting Ceremony will
take place in front of the whole school. Please wait quietly.”

Without another word, Professor McGonagall turned and disappeared out of the chamber. James
attempted to smooth his hair slightly, though he knew it was no use: his hair would never lie flat,
no matter how hard he or his parents tried. He looked around at Sirius, Marlene, and Dorcas. Sirius,
he noted, looked completely petrified, his face white. On his other side, Dorcas had a look of
anticipation and excitement on her face, which was mirrored on Marlene’s, next to her. James,
himself, was nearly leaping out of his skin with excitement. This is the moment , he thought, This is
the moment I’ve been waiting for my entire life.

Silence stretched among the first years as they waited alone, breaths caught, hearts beating fast in
their chests. McGonagall returned a few minutes later and told them to line up and follow her out of
the chamber, leading them back into the entrance hall, then through the doors to the Great Hall.
James gasped at the grandeur of the hall, looking up at the candles floating unsupported above the
four long house tables. His eyes scanned the silent faces staring up at the first years from each
table as he crowded with the rest of them at the front of the hall, his stomach flipping from a
combination of nerves and excitement.

Sitting innocently in front of them on a stool, James spotted what he knew to be the Sorting Hat,
which looked so old that James thought the only thing keeping it together must be magic. As he
watched, the hat opened its mouth and began to sing. As the first years listened with varying levels
of shock and nervousness, the hat sang the story of the four founders of Hogwarts, the houses
they'd created, and the qualities they each encompassed, finishing by telling them of its role in
sorting them. James tuned out by the end, looking out again at the sea of faces, his attention only
called back when Professor McGonagall began to read a list of names off of a long scroll of
parchment.

The first student called was a blond-haired boy named George Abbott, who walked up to the hat
and placed it on his head, clearly trying to keep calm. After a moment, the hat opened its mouth
and called out, “HUFFLEPUFF!” George stood up, placing the hat back on the stool, and hurried
towards the Hufflepuff table gratefully, whose occupants were applauding him heartily.

“Black, Sirius!” McGonagall called out next, and Sirius stepped forward after a moment, looking
as though he was about to pass out. James nudged the other boy’s shoulder slightly as Sirius passed
him, trying to give him some encouragement. Sirius glanced back at him, managing a slight smile
as he walked towards the hat. Lifting the hat up, Sirius placed it on his head with shaking hands,
sitting down on the stool.

Gryffindor… James prayed silently, crossing his fingers in his cloak, Let him be in Gryffindor.
Sirius sat there, eyes tightly shut, hands gripped on the side of the stool to steady him for several
long moments, but finally, the hat opened its mouth and called out: “GRYFFINDOR!”

James felt like joining in the clapping from the Gryffindor table but refrained with difficulty.
Unlike Abbott’s sorting, however, the hat’s decision for Sirius was met with a storm of angry
muttering down at the Slytherin end of the hall, along with the Gryffindor applause. Sirius cast a
rather guilty look towards the Slytherin table before taking his seat at the Gryffindor table, an older
student clapping him on the back. Still, he looked quite a bit happier than he had moments ago, and
James, even at a distance, could see him release a breath of relief.

James waited as patiently as he could as the hat called out other names, knowing it would be a
while before it reached his. He paid attention to those people he recognized. The Black girl who
he'd almost bumped into upon arriving on platform nine and three-quarters, who he learned was
named Miranda Ellerton, was sorted into Ravenclaw, while Lily Evans, the redhead with
disapproving green eyes, was sorted into Gryffindor. By the time it was James’ turn, there were
only a few first years left in line. he'd already watched eight other students be sorted into
Gryffindor, including both Marlene and Dorcas, to his delight. When McGonagall finally called his
name, James stepped forward with confidence, sitting on the stool and placing the hat on his head,
where it fell past his eyes.

A small voice, no doubt the hat’s, sounded in his ear. “Potter, eh? Intelligence, bravery, loyalty; I
see them all in you. Perhaps even a tad too much bravery, ha! You seem quite set on where to go,
however, and I quite agree with you…” Then, it bellowed to the whole hall: “GRYFFINDOR!”

James, beaming, pulled the hat off his head and put it back on the stool, practically skipping
towards the applauding Gryffindor table. He sat down across from Sirius and next to the small,
round-faced, mousy-looking boy who had been sorted before him. He and Sirius beamed across
the table at each other but didn’t have a chance to exchange words, as they both looked back up to
the front of the hall to watch the remainder of the Sorting Ceremony.

After another couple of people, the greasy-haired boy from the compartment was called to be
sorted, and as soon as the hat touched his head, it screamed “SLYTHERIN!” So he'd gotten his
wish, James thought bitterly, as he watched the boy walk over to the applauding Slytherins and
take his seat.

Once the remaining first years had all been sorted, the headmaster finally rose to his feet to address
the hall, his arms spread wide as if to embrace them. A fond smile spread across Albus
Dumbledore’s face, and James looked up at him in wonder, recalling the many stories he'd heard
about the great man.

“Welcome, everyone, to another year at Hogwarts! I hope all of your summers were quite
enjoyable, and that you are ready for another year of learning. I will keep any further notices for
the end of the feast. Now, without further ado, dig in!”

As he said it, the platters in front of them filled with food, and James’ face broke into a wide grin
as, across each of the House tables, everyone began to serve themselves. James began to do the
same, and soon his plate was filled with delicious-looking food, which he ate with haste, listening
to the conversations going on around him.

The first to break the ice, predictably, was Marlene, who regaled them all loudly with an amusing
story about a prank gone awry which James laughed at, despite having not only been present for it
but also having heard the story retold many times before. Throughout dinner, James introduced
himself to several of the other Gryffindor first years, including a laughing-eyed girl with medium
olive skin named Hestia Jones, the dirty-blonde, calm and collected Emmeline Vance, the small,
mousy boy beside him named Peter Pettigrew, and the shy, wavy brown-haired Remus Lupin.

Lily Evans, James noted, had been determinedly avoiding entering into conversation with either
him or Sirius throughout dinner, talking instead to the short girl with raven hair on her side. Sirius
seemed to have noticed the cold shoulder from the redhead, too, as he caught James’ eye and gave
a deliberate jerk of his head in her direction, rolling his eyes obviously. James smirked and shook
his head, trying to communicate that he didn’t know who the girl thought she was. As if either of
them were dying to talk to her, anyway.

When the food disappeared from the plates, Dumbledore stood again to remind the school of a
number of rules—all of which James mentally cataloged, his mind already subconsciously working
on ways around them—before dismissing them to their dormitories. James, feeling quite sleepy
now, followed the rest of the Gryffindor first years as they trailed after the fifth-year prefect who
lead them up a number of staircases to the Gryffindor common room. James noted the password to
the Fat Lady portrait which guarded Gryffindor Tower (“Bowtruckle”), and then entered the
Gryffindor common room. The circular room looked warm and comfortable, with its cushy chairs
and couches, and merry, crackling fire, and James allowed his face to crack into a weary smile at
the sight. he'd imagined this room many times when his father described Gryffindor Tower to him,
and it was just as he'd pictured it.

James said goodbye to Marlene and Dorcas before heading up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory,
stepping into a room with a sign that said, “First Years” hanging above the doorway. The room
contained four four-poster beds with red velvet curtains, and James quickly spotted which one was
his by the fact that his trunk was placed at its foot. Curiously, James walked around the room once
to investigate it, opening the door to the loo and peering in there, too. His curiosity satisfied, he
walked back to his bed and opened his trunk, rifling through his things and past his father’s
invisibility cloak—which he was already itching to use to explore the castle—and grabbed his
pajamas, changing into them quickly as the rest of the boys did the same. Sirius and Remus seemed
more concerned with privacy than either James or Peter were, changing behind their curtains.

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” James exclaimed excitedly to Sirius, who was now sitting
on his own bed next to James’. Sirius smiled back at him, though the gesture looked like it took
more effort than it had earlier, on the train. James looked around at Remus and Peter and gave
them both friendly grins.

“I know we’re all going to be great friends,” he declared. “I mean, we’ll be living together for the
next seven years, how could we not be?”

Remus’ smile was guarded, just like Sirius’, as he looked back at James, but there was no hiding
the tinge of excitement in it. Peter’s smile was the brightest, and was accompanied by a look of
flattered surprise at being included in James’ statement, which only made James’ smile widen as
his gaze fell on the shorter boy.

“Well, we’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other tomorrow,” Sirius said, glancing around
at them with another rather forced smile plastered across his face. “Right now, I’m tired.
Goodnight.”

Sirius pulled his curtains shut around him rather abruptly, but the other boys echoed him without
hesitation, moving onto their own beds and pulling their drapes closed. James climbed under his
covers, laying on his side and smiling to himself, the euphoria from the events of the day lingering
along with the tiredness.

I’m finally here, he thought to himself as he drifted into sleep. Finally at Hogwarts.
 1971-1972: Marlene McKinnon, Mischief Maker

The first few months of Marlene’s first year at Hogwarts passed far too quickly for her liking. It
felt like they'd only just arrived at the school when the students crowded back onto the Hogwarts
Express to go home for the holidays, a long two weeks that Marlene spent squabbling with her six-
year-old brother, Tyler, and sneaking off to practice magic in secret with Dorcas whenever their
parents brought them over to each other’s houses.

“I don’t understand why you girls act like you haven’t seen each other in years every time you’re
together. You just spent three months sharing a dormitory!” Imogen McKinnon remarked
exasperatedly one day. “I thought living together might finally make you sick of one another.”

Dorcas’ father, Thomas, only laughed. “You know they’ve always been this way, Imogen,” he
replied, watching the girls scamper off to Marlene’s room.

It was true, of course, that Marlene and Dorcas had been inseparable since they’d been introduced
at the age of three—at least according to their parents. Marlene, herself, couldn’t remember a time
without Dorcas by her side, as if she'd always been there, a permanent fixture in her life. Nothing
much had changed in the past months at Hogwarts. There, they attended classes with the rest of the
first years, and while they'd each made their own friendships among the other young witches and
wizards in their year, they were still best friends, first and foremost.

“Marley, do you like the other girls in our dorm?” Dorcas asked her one day as they lay on
Marlene’s bed looking up at the ceiling, where they were making a paintbrush draw stars with
glow-in-the-dark paint.

Marlene knew that she might truly get in trouble for this particular breach of the no-magic-outside-
of-school rule, as her parents would notice the paint and deduce how it’d gotten there, but she
didn’t much care at the moment. It wasn’t like the Ministry of Magic would be knocking on their
door, not in a magical household where the Trace couldn’t detect the two girls’ rule-breaking, so
she could stand her parents’ punishment, whatever it would be.

Still, it was entirely possible that they wouldn’t be able to guess the manner in which Marlene and
Dorcas had been able to get the stars on the ceiling in the first place. It was laughable to remember
that their parents were still unaware of the way the two girls used wandless magic together, and had
done ever since they’d been five years old. Indeed, Marlene had had to try hard to keep a straight
face when her mother took her wand away at the beginning of the holidays, thinking that it would
prevent her from performing magic.

Marlene would’ve thought that after all the years of mysterious occurrences, well beyond the
bounds of the random outbursts of magic that were the limit of most magical children’s abilities,
her parents might have caught on. Luckily for her, however, they remained woefully ignorant. Part
of it, obviously, was the fact that Marlene and Dorcas had learned to channel their magic together,
making them capable of doing things that one child would certainly not have been able to, and then
there was also the fact that they'd had years of practice. Even coming into the scene two years later
at seven years old, James had never been quite on their wavelength. Nevertheless, Marlene still
thought it was something to brag about, no matter the extenuating circumstances.

“I like some of the girls,” Marlene replied evasively after a length of silence, her eyes fixed intently
on the paintbrush, her arms folded below her head on the mattress.

“Which ones?” Dorcas asked, rolling over on the bed to face her friend, the paintbrush falling to
the ground as she lost her focus. Marlene sighed, inwardly hoping the paint wouldn’t stick to the
carpet where it fell, and turned her head to look at Dorcas.

“Emmeline, Hestia, and Mary are all cool,” she replied. “Emmeline’s a great Quidditch player. She
says she wants to be Keeper on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but she reckons she won’t be able
to get on it for a while, since Robins is only a fourth year.”

“And Lily?” Dorcas asked, raising her eyebrows, a concerned look on her face. Marlene rolled her
eyes, sighing again and looking back up at the ceiling.

“Why d’you ask me questions you already know the answers to, Dee? You know I’m not a fan of
Lily’s.”

“But I don’t understand why,” Dorcas whined. “She’s really nice if you’d only give her a chance.”

“She’s stuck up, Dee!” Marlene exclaimed, rolling onto her side to stare at her best friend
incredulously, exasperated at the repetition of this conversation they’d already had many times.
“Even you should be able to admit she’s a know-it-all. She’s always telling James and Sirius off for
stupid things, and everywhere she goes that slimy Slytherin boy follows.”

Marlene gave an exaggerated shudder at the thought of Lily’s friend, Severus Snape, wrinkling her
nose and pulling a disgusted face. Dorcas gave her an exasperated look for her antics but responded
earnestly all the same.

“Sure, she can be a little bit uppity sometimes,” she conceded. “And you know I don’t like Snape
either, but just because they’re friends it doesn’t mean you can’t like Lily! She’s quite funny when
you spend real time around her. She just never lets her guard down around you because she knows
you don’t like her.”

“Come on, she doesn’t like me, either,” Marlene said, snorting. “She knows I’m involved in half of
Sirius and James’ pranks, and she’s always looking at me with that disapproving expression. I
overheard her tell Snape I’m stubborn and immature.”

“Well, you are stubborn and immature,” Dorcas said, rolling her eyes at Marlene and grinning
slightly. “That’s why you, James, and Sirius get along so well.”

“Hey, you take that back!” Marlene protested, sitting up, pulling the pillow out from behind
Dorcas’ head, and whacking her with it, though a smile crept onto her face as she did so. “You’re
mates with them, too, what does that say about you?”

“That I have a soft spot for immature prats?” Dorcas joked, laughing as she avoided Marlene’s
blow, grabbing for the pillow and attempting to strike back. The two girls descended into a pillow
fight that was only interrupted when Imogen called down the hall that she’d come in and break it
up herself if the girls didn’t stop yelling. The paintbrush lay on the floor forgotten, though Marlene
noticed that night that one or both of them must have stepped in the glow-in-the-dark paint, given
the smudged half-footprints on the carpet.

When the New Year arrived and the time came for them to return to Hogwarts, Dorcas and Marlene
boarded the Hogwarts Express happily, joining James and his roommates in their compartment for
the train ride. Marlene had decided already during the previous term that she liked Remus, who,
although being a bit shy, was unexpectedly good at planning pranks according to James and Sirius.
Given the fact that he’d received no detentions thus far, while James, Marlene, and Sirius had all
had a fair few between them, Marlene deduced that he was even better at not getting caught, a trait
that she couldn’t help but admire.
Peter, on the other hand, Marlene wasn’t yet sure about. The shortest boy was twitchy, and
sometimes a bit dim and ignorant for her liking, but she resolved not to write him off too quickly.
James seemed to like him, and he was a good judge of character, so Peter must have some
redeeming qualities. Marlene was still looking for them.

“I see you still haven’t managed to convince your parents to let you smuggle your broom to
Hogwarts, Jamie?” Marlene teased as she sat down in the compartment and grinned across at her
friend. James had been like a dog with a bone with his parents about letting him bring his
Quidditch equipment for half of Christmas dinner that year, but his pout told her that it hadn’t
helped his case.

“They still won’t budge,” James complained. “I tried to argue that there was no point of getting me
new Quidditch supplies for Christmas if I couldn’t use them, but no dice.”

“You could probably smuggle it in without them knowing if you tried hard enough,” Dorcas
replied mildly, smiling. “Though I don’t think the telling off you would get from either
McGonagall or your mum would be worth it if someone caught you.”

James laughed, waving a dismissive hand. “McGonagall is going to love me next year when I can
finally bring my broom and get on the house team,” he said rather arrogantly. “Everyone knows
she’s obsessed with Gryffindor’s chances at the Quidditch cup.”

Remus laughed, glancing at James with a twinkle of amused exasperation in his blue eyes. “I don’t
think being on the house team makes you exempt from McGonagall’s wrath,” he pointed out. “You
know Florence, that third year? She’s constantly in detention, isn’t she, for getting into fights? And
she’s one of the best players on the team.”

“Oh, yeah,” James said, his face falling slightly. Quickly, he brightened again, taking full
advantage of the mention of the third-year girl. “Florence is great, isn’t she? I mean, not only a
kickass Beater, but she’s also constantly hexing those Slytherin gits when they spout that blood
status stuff.”

“She is pretty brilliant,” Marlene agreed, smiling admiringly. “Did you see that jinx she used on
Bulstrode before the break, you know, the one that made him erupt in boils? It was spectacular.”

“Truly inspirational,” Dorcas snorted, rolling her eyes, and then directed her next question to the
other three boys in the compartment. “Anyway, what did the rest of you get up to for Christmas?
How were your families?”

There was a slight, nervous pause, as none of the three boys seemed to want to break the silence.
Finally, Peter spoke.

“Mine was fine,” the mousy-looking boy responded nervously, as he always did when talking to
either of the girls. “My mum was busy with work, but I got to spend a lot of time with my brother
and sister, so that was good.”

“Sounds nice,” Dorcas said, smiling at him, which made him flush slightly and look down. Dorcas
turned her gaze upon Remus, who shrugged, looking slightly disconcerted at being asked to
divulge information about himself.

“Christmas was nice with my parents,” he said shortly. “Nothing special.”

“How’s your mum doing?” Dorcas asked, her tone sympathetic. Everyone in their year knew that
Remus’ mother was ill, given his frequent trips home to see her. Marlene had never been able to
figure out what she was ill with, but even she wasn’t tactless enough to pry.

“She’s okay,” Remus said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “The same.”

“What about you, Sirius? How were the holidays in London?” Marlene asked cheerfully, trying to
break the awkward silence that formed in the wake of Remus’ response. However, when she
turned her attention to Sirius, it became clear that her friend was even more unwilling to answer the
question than Remus had been.

“It was fine,” he muttered, avoiding her gaze. Marlene exchanged a confused glance with James
and Dorcas, who both shrugged, not quite sure how to handle the newly tense atmosphere in the
compartment.

Sirius had never spoken about his family much, in the few months Marlene had known him, and
she didn’t know a lot about them other than the fact that they were part of the sacred twenty-eight
and had always been in Slytherin. She knew he had two older cousins, Andromeda and Narcissa
Black, who were in their seventh and fifth years in Slytherin, respectively, and while she'd met
Andromeda once, and found her to be friendly, she'd never seen Sirius so much as glance at
Narcissa in the corridors.

James hurriedly changed the subject from the holidays to pranks that he’d like to pull when they
got back to school, and Marlene and the other boys jumped at the topic, their conversation quickly
becoming much more lively. Dorcas laughed and shook her head exasperatedly at many of their
ideas, but often commented on the potential hazards of some of the particularly risky ones. Remus
piped up sometimes, too, suggesting modifications that would keep them from getting caught or
injured. After several hours had passed, Dorcas suggested that she and Marlene pop in to greet the
other girls from their dormitory.

“Fine,” Marlene agreed, standing up. “But if Lily is sitting with Snape, I’m not going in to say
hello to her.”

Dorcas rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, sliding the compartment door open and waving goodbye to
the boys, Marlene following her out. It didn’t take them long to find the other first-year Gryffindor
girls, who were all sitting in a compartment together, minus Lily, a couple of doors down. They
greeted Marlene and Dorcas enthusiastically when they entered, and the two girls sat down to catch
up with them about their holidays.

“Mine was boring, nothing much to talk about,” Hestia Jones replied, pushing a strand of her dark
hair behind her ear impatiently. “But listen to Mary, she’s been telling us about what happened at
Christmas at her house!”

“What happened, Mary?” Dorcas asked curiously, turning to the small, raven-haired witch.

At the start of the term, Marlene had taken Mary to be a very shy girl, the quietest out of any of
their roommates, but she'd opened up much more as they'd all gotten to know one another. Still, as
Marlene spent more time with James’ roommates than the girls in her dormitory, she still didn’t
know much about the other girl other than the fact that she was Muggle-born, and lived in
Cornwall with her mother and stepfather.

Mary shifted under the collective gaze of all in the compartment and shrugged. “My father showed
up,” she replied simply. “Hadn’t seen him in seven years, but there he is on Christmas morning, on
our doorstep.”

“You’re kidding!” Marlene exclaimed, eyes widening as she stared at Mary, barely attempting to
conceal the avid interest on her face.

Mary had told all the girls in the dormitory enough about Paul Macdonald, her stepfather, for
Marlene to know that the other girl thought he hung the moon, but she couldn’t remember her ever
saying anything about her biological father before now. Marlene had not asked, of course, her
mother’s words echoing sternly in her ears (“Curiosity killed the cat, Marlene”) but God had she
wanted to.

“Wish I was kidding,” Mary responded, an uncharacteristically bitter expression stealing over her
features. “He just turns up out of the blue, no call or letter or anything. I’ve no idea how he found
out where we live now, but he was sure surprised to see my mum answering the door with a two-
month-old baby in her arms.”

“That’s crazy,” Marlene exclaimed, her eyes wide. “What’d he want?”

“He claimed to want to see me,” Mary said, rolling her eyes. “Made a big show of giving me a
Christmas gift. I told him I didn’t want it, and my mum kicked him out.”

“You’re not curious at all to why he left?” Dorcas asked, looking a little shocked. “You don’t want
him back in your life at all?”

“It doesn’t really matter why he left,” Mary said, her heart-shaped face pinched into a scowl. “My
mum told me he’d a gambling problem when I was a kid, though. I bet he didn’t want to see me at
all, just wanted to see if he could get some money out of us. He’d have found out quick enough that
we don’t have any to spare, and he’d have left again. What’s the point? I have my mum, Paul, and
Clem. They’re my family.”

“Oh!” Dorcas exclaimed, her earlier troubled expression dissolving as delight flooded her face. “I
forgot to ask about your little sister. Is she cute?”

“She’s adorable,” Mary said, smiling genuinely then. “Here, I’ll show you a picture.” She
rummaged around in her bag and pulled out a Muggle polaroid, handing it across to Marlene and
Dorcas. Emmeline and Hestia had clearly already seen it. It depicted a small, Chinese woman with
Mary's heart-shaped face and dark hair—Mary's mother—holding a baby with dark hair and
startling, dark blue eyes, unlike Mary’s light brown ones. She was indeed extremely cute.

“And her name’s Clementine, right?” Marlene asked, handing the picture back to Mary after she
and Dorcas had both examined it closely, smiling at the baby.

“Yeah, but mostly everyone calls her Clem,” Mary said, smiling fondly down at the picture before
replacing it back in her bag. “She’s a little angel, honestly. I’ve spent a lot of time babysitting her
so my parents can go to work, which has been nice. I thought I’d be kept up most nights because
babies are like that, but she’s pretty quiet. Puked on me once, though, but nothing too bad.”

Marlene wrinkled her nose while the other girls laughed. After a moment, Dorcas inquired about
their missing roommate. “D’you know where Lily’s off to, then?”

“We saw her at the beginning of the train ride,” Mary said, exchanging a look with Hestia and
Emmeline. “She stopped in to say hello quickly, but she was with Snape, and he clearly didn’t want
to hang around. Not that we would’ve wanted him to sit with us, anyway. I assume they’re sitting
together somewhere around here.”

Marlene gave Dorcas a pointed look. “I figured as much,” she said, before turning back to the other
girls. “I’ve no idea why she hangs around him.”
“Me neither,” Mary said, shaking her head and leaning forward conspiratorially. “You know, I
heard from Miranda that he and his Slytherin friends are always making jokes about Muggle-borns
in Charms. You’d think that Lily, being a Muggle-born…”

She trailed off, shaking her head, a slightly puzzled and dejected look on her face. The other girls
shrugged, shaking their heads in bewilderment as well before moving on to lighter topics. The rest
of the train ride went remarkably quickly in the Gryffindor girls’ compartment as they talked and
laughed together, all excited about their lessons the next day.

The new term dawned bright and early the next morning, and Marlene greeted it with her usual
enthusiasm. Marlene wasn’t sure, but she fancied that some of the spells they were learning in
Charms and Transfiguration were a tad more complex than those of the previous term, which
excited her. In Defense Against the Dark Arts, unfortunately, they were still only learning theory.
Still, Marlene got through the slightly boring lectures by reminding herself of her recurrent
daydream, the one where she stood tall and blasted someone back with her wand, a shiny Auror
badge on her chest, like the one that Diana Meadowes sported whenever she left for work.

Of course, D.A.D.A. competed fiercely for the title of Marlene’s favorite class with flying lessons,
which the Gryffindors took with the Ravenclaws on Tuesdays and Thursdays before lunch. Now,
Marlene didn’t really need flying instruction, as she'd been flying for most of her life. She’d gotten
her first toy broomstick at the age of three, which she'd subsequently flown around the yard,
crashing into the McKinnon’s little apple tree and breaking her collarbone.

This hadn’t turned her off flying, however, and she’d received her first real broom at the age of
seven, after begging her parents endlessly when she'd discovered that James already had a broom
of his own. She’d promised them she’d only fly at James’ or Dorcas’ houses so that no Muggles
would spot her in the sky, and had spent every available moment from that day on practicing.
Dorcas hadn’t really taken to flying quite like Marlene and James had, but she’d enjoyed watching
them from the ground at the Potters’ little clearing on the hill, occasionally joining in at their
pleading.

Therefore, to Marlene, the appeal of flying practice wasn’t the instruction, but the chance to be up
in the air again, as, despite her teasing of James, she was also deeply disappointed at the fact that
she couldn’t have her broom with her. The urge to fly had even gotten so strong that she, James,
Sirius, and Emmeline had broken into the Quidditch storeroom where Madam Hooch kept the
school brooms, and taken them on a joy-ride around the grounds one day in February.
Unfortunately for them, Professor Sprout had quickly spotted them from one of her greenhouses
and ordered them down, landing them in detention for a week.

While the school brooms had been rather pathetic, and the punishment sobering, Marlene had also
reaped an unexpected reward for her antics. A few days later, while Marlene was sitting doing her
homework in the common room alone, an older girl with curly red hair and piercing, ice-blue eyes
plopped down into the armchair across from her.

“You’re one of those first years that stole the brooms, right?” the girl asked in a friendly Scottish
accent, a curious smile on her face. Marlene stared across at her with wide eyes, swallowing
slightly before nodding, heat creeping into her face. The girl’s grin widened, and she nodded, as if
Marlene had made her day, and added: “I’m Florence.”

“M-Marlene,” Marlene managed to stammer out, her face turning redder as she did so. Of course,
Marlene already knew this girl. Florence O’Connor had been the topic of many a conversation
between her, James, and Sirius, as well as the subject of Marlene’s own private admiration for
months. Now, Florence had decided to sit with Marlene, Marlene of all people, and she was
looking at her like she was someone worth knowing, like she was infamous even.

“So, you like to fly?” Florence asked, tapping her fingers on her ankle, which was resting on her
opposite knee. Marlene nodded quickly, swallowing before replying.

“I’ve flown since I was a kid,” she said, hoping that she didn’t sound as pathetically eager as she
thought. “I’d love to get on the house team next year if I’m good enough.”

“Well, we’ll have a couple of open positions after this year,” Florence said, tilting her head to
examine Marlene appraisingly. “What position do you play?”

“Seeker,” Marlene replied. “That is, it’s my favorite.”

Florence's face broke into another grin, and she nodded, looking satisfied.

“Keep practicing,” she said. “We need new blood on the team, and with your nerve, you should fit
right in.”

Marlene quivered with happiness at Florence’s compliment, her face flushing again as she beamed
back at her. Florence stood, turning to join the group of her third-year friends who had just settled
down a few yards away, chattering happily.

“I was there when you jinxed that Slytherin, Bulstrode, last term,” Marlene blurted out before she
could move away. Florence raised her eyebrows, turning back to look down at Marlene quizzically.
“I thought it was really brilliant.”

Florence’s freckled face broke into another smile, and she shrugged modestly.

“Well, it cost Gryffindor a bunch of points, and earned me a detention,” she said. “But if you liked
the jinx, maybe I’ll teach it to you some time.”

With that, Florence gave Marlene a little wave, then walked over to the chairs by the fire, where
she threw herself down next to her third-year friends, joining in on their conversation. Marlene was
left in a haze of shock and delight, staring after the older girl, her face still flaming red.

Following this interaction, Florence had made it a point to greet Marlene in the corridors, which
made Marlene smile like a goon and gave her bragging rights over James, who looked on jealously
every time he saw them acknowledge each other.

“I can’t believe that she talks to you but not me,” James said one day after one of these interactions,
glaring at Marlene. “I mean, Sirius, Emmeline, and I all took the brooms with you.”

“I suppose she thinks I’m cooler than you,” Marlene teased, a rush of pleasure going through her as
she said the words.

“Oh, shut up,” James replied, annoyance all over his face as he elbowed a laughing Marlene in the
ribs.

Florence O’Connor wasn’t the only thing on Marlene’s mind during the second term of her first
year, however, as much of her brain not occupied by classwork was taken up by idle plans and
ideas for pranks with James and Sirius. Marlene had grown to enjoy Sirius’ company even more
than she had during the previous term, as his humor and reckless nature perfectly matched her own
desire to cause mayhem. In fact, James complained often that the two of them brought out the
worst in one another, and that it shouldn’t be him trying to reel in anyone, ever. In turn, they
retorted that he was just naturally a mother hen, and that he shouldn’t fight his nature.
Marlene, for her part, enjoyed the random pranks that induced chaos in the castle just as much as
the targeted attacks on Slytherins whenever they said something nasty. One of their favorite targets
was Severus Snape, Lily’s best friend, who all three could agree on their dislike of, and who
clearly detested them in equal measure. Still, at eleven, there wasn’t much either could do about
their mutual enmity, so when Snape used trip jinxes on one of them in the hallways, they responded
in the only ways that were available to them: replacing Snape’s shampoo with stinksap, putting
itching powder into his pajamas, or charming his textbooks to make loud farting noises whenever
he opened them, all with the help of James’ father’s trusty invisibility cloak.

Despite lacking any proof, Marlene knew that Snape was aware of exactly who was the culprit of
these harmless pranks. His dark eyes would find them in hallways or across classrooms, anger
brewing in them, and while Marlene always acted as if she couldn’t see him, sometimes it made her
uneasy. She’d heard the rumors, of course, as they all had, that he was fascinated with the Dark
Arts. It was one of the main reasons she and the other Gryffindors disliked him. She still couldn’t
understand how Lily could stand him and was disgusted by the fact that the redhead always
seemed to turn a blind eye to his actions against them, despite always glaring at James and Sirius
for their pranks. Marlene continued to avoid her, therefore, and ignored Dorcas’ insistence that if
Marlene gave her a chance, Lily might surprise her. Whenever Dorcas said this, Marlene merely
retorted that she didn’t like surprises.

Of course, Dorcas and Marlene were still best friends, even if Dorcas spent more time with the
other Gryffindor girls and Marlene with the Gryffindor boys. They still ended most nights in the
dormitory in one of their beds, recounting the events of their days with their arms around each
other. Sometimes they practiced wandless magic at night, and once or twice they even used it in
class to confuse their classmates and professors alike. It was very amusing to see Professor Flitwick
or Slughorn search the room for a culprit to blame while a piece of chalk hovered unsupported at
the front of the class, spelling out nonsense words on the board. James was often blamed for their
antics, unfortunately, as he was the only one in on the secret, and therefore the first to break into
laughter every time.

Still, Dorcas preferred to be left out of most of the pranks that Marlene concocted with the boys,
and they respected her wishes. That was how Marlene found herself alone with James and Sirius
under the invisibility cloak on a Thursday afternoon in mid-April, on their way to the Slytherin
common room to try and change the drapes in there from green and silver to red and gold. Remus
wasn’t present, as he was visiting home once again, and Peter claimed to be behind on his
homework, so he’d stayed in the common room. Marlene had not been feeling very well all day,
but when James and Sirius suggested the prank, she figured that this might be a good distraction
from the pain in her stomach, and give her an opportunity to vent her irritation on some
unsuspecting Slytherins.

However, the trip didn’t go quite as planned. they'd only gotten to the bottom of the Grand
Staircase, not even into the dungeons, when Marlene felt the strange sensation of something
dripping down her leg. She threw the cloak off to examine it, as they weren’t technically doing
anything wrong yet, and found a trail of blood running all the way from the inside of her thigh to
her foot, staining her white sock.

“What the hell?” Marlene exclaimed, looking in horror at her leg. James appeared beside her in a
moment.

“Merlin, you’re bleeding!” he exclaimed, his voice going high in alarm. “Why are you bleeding?
We haven’t even done anything dangerous yet!”

“I don’t know!” Marlene snapped back, equally distraught, examining her leg and trying to find the
source of the blood. “I don’t know where it’s coming from. I don’t think I have a cut or anything!”

“You must,” Sirius said, appearing last from beneath the cloak and looking in slight puzzlement at
the line of blood, clearly far less panicked than James. “People don’t just start bleeding for no
reason.”

“Oh, really?” Marlene said sarcastically, shooting him a glare. “I had no idea, Sirius!”

“We should get you to the Hospital Wing!” James said, taking control of the situation.

He grabbed the invisibility cloak from Sirius and stuffed it into his bag before leading the way
towards the Hospital Wing door, Marlene still trying to check her leg for scratches as she followed,
Sirius bringing up the rear. When they arrived, the Hospital Wing was apparently empty, though
there was a screen hiding a bed near the office from view. Within moments, Madam Pomfrey
scurried out of her office to meet them, looking a little wary as she recognized who they were.
(James and Sirius had already been to the Hospital Wing several times for prank-related injuries,
and they were not the easiest patients.)

“What seems to be the problem, Mr. Potter, Mr. Black, Miss McKinnon?” she asked as she
approached them. James gestured to Marlene.

“Marlene’s bleeding and we don’t know where it’s coming from,” he announced importantly,
Marlene holding out her leg to show Madam Pomfrey.

“I can’t find a cut or anything,” she said, even more anxiously than James, her sarcastic façade
abandoned in the face of the matron. Madam Pomfrey examined her for a moment, eyebrows raised
as she quickly followed the line of blood Marlene was showing her before flitting back up to
Marlene’s face. She wore an almost amused expression as her gaze flitted quickly from James’
anxious face, on Marlene’s left, to Sirius’ slight look of puzzlement, on her right.

“Have you had stomach cramps? Acne? Felt more irritable than usual?” the matron quizzed her,
crossing her arms over her chest. Marlene frowned, her hand going up to worry slightly at a spot on
her chin before dropping back down, her brows furrowing as she nodded. She wondered fleetingly
whether Madam Pomfrey was about to tell her that she was dying. Instead, the matron smiled,
shaking her head in exasperation.

“This is why I keep telling Professor Dumbledore that we need a sexual education class,” she said,
turning and bustling back into her office. When she returned, she presented Marlene with a box of
pads and an explanation of menstruation, which Marlene took in blushingly, James and Sirius
standing beside her, their faces both flaming red as well.

After Marlene used the loo, cleaning her leg and putting on a fresh pair of underwear provided by
Madam Pomfrey and a pad, Madam Pomfrey gave her a pain-relief potion for her cramps, and they
left the Hospital Wing together, none of them talking. Marlene felt supremely embarrassed, her
cheeks still hot, and James kept shooting her worried looks that she was studiously avoiding.

When they reached the bottom of the Grand Staircase, Sirius let out a snort of laughter. Marlene
reached over to shove his shoulder, fixing him with a ferocious glare.

“Shut it, Black!” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. He stumbled slightly, backing away
from her with his hands raised but still laughing.

“Oh, come off it,” he said finally, his laughter subsiding slightly as he grinned at her, his cheeks
flushed with mirth. “It’s a bit funny. James looked like he thought you were dying.”
Marlene couldn’t help the slight smile that twitched at her lips at his words, though she tried
valiantly to keep up her glare. Finally, she let out a huff of laughter and uncrossed her arms, rolling
her eyes at him.

“Fine,” she admitted. “It’s a little funny. But if either of you breathes a word about this to anyone, I
will smother you in your sleep, got it?”

Sirius smirked and mockingly crossed his heart, while James finally stopped looking worried and
let his face break into a slight smile, too, nodding.

“Now that that crisis has been averted, do you still want to go and prank the Slytherin common
room?” James asked, a smile still playing across his face as he retrieved the invisibility cloak from
his bag and held it out, raising his eyebrows at her quizzically. Marlene looked down at it for a
moment, thinking, then grinned and looked up at him.

“Let’s go,” she said, and James grinned back, throwing the invisibility cloak over the three of them
again. Without further ado, they scampered off toward the dungeons, debating in low voices what
the Slytherin password might be that week.

....

In the end, neither James nor Sirius had had to tell anyone about the story of what had happened
earlier that day, as it was Dorcas who fixed her with a piercing look and said, “Out with it,” as soon
as she set foot into the dormitory that night. Marlene blushed bright red again and relented
immediately.

Like Sirius, all the other girls found the story supremely amusing, most of all Dorcas, who laughed
so hard that she cried, clutching her stomach as tears ran down her face. Marlene pouted as the
other girls laughed, too, thinking of how unfair it was that she was the only one out of the bunch to
have her period, and thus the first to endure this torment.

“Didn’t your mum ever tell you about periods?” Hestia asked incredulously between giggles.

“I think it was mentioned,” Marlene replied sullenly. “She might have given me a book about
puberty or something, but I don’t think I ever read it.”

“Clearly,” Dorcas choked out, wiping away tears of mirth from her eyes.

“You’d better not tell her!” Marlene said, pointing a threatening finger at her best friend. “And not
Tyler, either!”

“But it’s so funny, Marley,” Dorcas pleaded teasingly, leaning forward to take Marlene’s hands in
hers and grinning, dark eyes twinkling. “I’m sure that they’d love the story.”

“Don’t you dare!” Marlene returned, her voice low and dangerous, staring back into Dorcas’ eyes
threateningly. Dorcas simply broke into laughter again, so Marlene launched herself at her best
friend, tackling her to the carpet, Dorcas still giggling.

As before, the remainder of the term progressed too rapidly for Marlene’s liking. Soon, the exams
were upon them, which Dorcas often reminded Marlene were very important for her future, forcing
her grumbling friend to sit with her in the library to study. As it turned out, it was probably good
that Marlene had studied a bit, as she found them more difficult than she'd expected, but passed
with good marks nonetheless.

Too soon, it was time to board the train again. Marlene was surprised by how much she was going
to miss all of the friends she'd made in her first year. Of course, she was sure to see a lot of Dorcas
and James over the summer, as she always did. Sirius, though, had been very vague when asked if
he could come to visit them over the holiday, so Marlene presumed that for whatever reason, that
would not be happening. Apart from Lily, Marlene had grown quite fond of the other girls in her
dormitory, too, as well as Remus, who she'd grown used to having around. Even Peter, who still
routinely annoyed her, had grown on her so that her annoyance was often mixed with fondness.

The train ride back to platform nine and three-quarters was boisterous. Instead of sitting in separate
compartments this time, all the Gryffindor first years, excluding Lily, crowded into one
compartment. If she'd been there, Marlene knew Lily surely would’ve declined to sit with James
and Sirius, anyway, but it didn’t matter, since she was already sitting with Severus Snape at the
other end of the train.

Marlene was sure that when they were older this behavior would not fly, but as eleven and twelve-
year-olds, they could cram in side by side, their shoulders brushing. At one point along the
journey, Sirius went to sit on the floor to play a game of Exploding Snap with James, as there was
really no room to do so on their seats without setting fire to everyone in the vicinity.

Mostly, however, they talked and laughed, clinging to their last moments together before two
whole months apart. Marlene was glad that they were all together, as she was tired of splitting her
time between the Gryffindor girls and boys. She was even more pleased when the door slid open
and Florence stuck her head in, smiling directly at Marlene.

“Hey, McKinnon,” she greeted Marlene, her eyes scanning around the packed compartment with an
amused look on her face.

“Florence, hi!” Marlene exclaimed, grinning and pushing her hair behind her ears as she looked up
at the older girl.

“I just came to tell you to have a good summer,” Florence said. “Remember to train hard if you
want that Seeker spot on the team next year. Sam will probably be Captain, and I won’t be able to
get him to choose you just because I like you.”

She winked down at her, and Marlene beamed.

“I will, thanks,” she said. “I hope you have a good holiday, too!”

Florence nodded, gave her a little wave, then withdrew, closing the compartment door behind her.
Marlene turned to see James glaring at her across the compartment, looking mutinous, and she
smirked, flicking her hair behind her shoulder.

“Jealous?”

“Shut up,” he returned, and placed a card on the top of his castle, causing the whole thing to
explode in his face.

When they all climbed out of the train onto the platform, Marlene immediately spotted her
mother’s blonde head through the crowd, standing next to a figure who looked like Dorcas’ father,
Thomas Meadowes. She pointed them out to Dorcas, who nodded. They both turned to bid
goodbye to their friends. Marlene hugged all her roommates who were present, as well as all of the
boys, too, smiling and telling James that she’d see him soon. She caught Sirius last, giving him a
big hug and grinning at him as she pulled back, clapping him on the back in a friendly manner.

“Hang in there, yeah?” she said, giving him a reassuring look. For all her flaws, Marlene wasn’t
unobservant. She'd seen the way that Sirius had been trying to conceal his trepidation about going
home by being extra boisterous on the train ride. He looked a little taken aback but shot her a
grateful smile anyway.

“Have a good summer,” he responded, before turning back to the boys.

Marlene turned to Dorcas, who had finished saying her goodbyes as well, and the two girls grabbed
their trunks, hauling them over to where their parents stood. Imogen greeted her daughter with a big
hug, Thomas Meadowes doing the same with Dorcas. When she pulled back, Imogen smiled down
at Marlene.

“I feel like you’ve grown since I saw you last,” she said, brushing her daughter’s hair back with her
hand so it wasn’t in her face. Then, she turned to Dorcas’ father. “Dinner at seven, then, Thomas?”

“Sounds good, Imogen,” he replied, giving her a smile. “We’ll see you soon.”

“I guess we won’t be apart for long,” Marlene said, hugging Dorcas goodbye anyway as her friend
laughed. Then, Marlene turned to grasp her mother’s arm, who turned on the spot, apparating them
away from the platform, the crowds of students all around them, and the brilliantly red steam
engine, from which Hogwarts pupils were still descending.
 1972: The Question of Trust
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

As she descended from the Hogwarts Express at the end of her first year, Lily couldn’t help but
drag her feet, looking back at the train regretfully as she jumped down onto the platform. The year
had progressed too quickly for her liking, and it almost felt as if she’d only just gotten onto the
train on September 1st, almost ten months prior. Now she was leaving, and she realized that she
was really going to miss the castle, her lessons, Gryffindor Tower, and even some of her
housemates, in the few months until she’d return.

Mostly, though, Lily was dreading going back to the Evans household, where her older sister,
Petunia, was sure to give her just as much of a cold shoulder now as she'd been giving her since
Lily had first discovered that she was a witch. Lily had thought it couldn’t get any worse than the
day of her departure from King’s Cross in the fall, but Petunia had proved her wrong, behaving
even more nastily towards Lily over the winter holidays than she'd done ever before. Try as their
parents might to smooth relations between their two daughters, Lily had recognized her mother’s
handwriting on the present that was supposed to be from Petunia to Lily, and it hurt immensely to
think that Petunia hated her so much that she’d refuse to even get her a Christmas gift.

Lily couldn’t imagine that Petunia would be any better over the summer, so she'd been steeling
herself during the past few weeks for the cold silence, interspersed with vicious words, that would
surely greet her upon her return to their house in Cokeworth. The one bright spot, Lily thought, was
that at least she could still see Severus over the summer, even if there wasn't much else at home to
remind her of Hogwarts. Unfortunately for her, Severus wasn't the best person to talk about her
issues with Petunia. He didn’t seem to understand why Lily let Petunia’s behavior get to her,
saying that her sister would never understand magic and it was pointless to try to explain it to her.
Lily supposed that it was probably because he didn’t have any siblings.

Looking around, Lily spotted a head of familiar sandy blonde hair through the crowd and began to
move toward it. As she drew closer, the man turned to reveal her father’s smiling face, and Lily
bounded forward excitedly to hug him.

“Let me look at you,” Richard Evans said, laughing and releasing her from the bear hug he'd
wrapped her in, holding her at arm’s length and examining her with a smile on his face. He sighed,
shaking his head affectionately. “Why do you already look older since the last time I saw you? It’s
only been a few months!”

Lily laughed. “That’s how growing works, I suppose,” she said. “I am twelve now, after all!”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t be with you on your birthday,” her father said. “It’s still strange not to have
you around the house all the time.”

“I’m back now,” Lily said, smiling up at her father. “You’ll just have to enjoy it while you can!”

Richard Evans laughed, then gestured for his daughter to follow him towards the barrier back to
King’s Cross station. “Come on, we should get going. We’ll have plenty of time to talk in the car.”
He grasped one side of her trunk to help her carry it, and together they exited the platform, Lily
giving it one last backward glance before stepping through the barrier into the Muggle world.

The drive from London back to Cokeworth was long but beautiful, passing mostly through fields
and among trees, instead of boring old highway. Lily used the time to catch up with her father,
telling him about her term at Hogwarts while he regaled her with stories of home. When Lily asked
how Petunia was, Richard told her that her sister seemed to be enjoying school, and even had a
boyfriend. Her father seemed rather amused by this, as he told Lily that the extent of their dating
was being dropped off at the movie theater by their parents and awkwardly holding hands
sometimes as they walked around the neighborhood.

“I suppose that’s just what ‘dating’ is like when you’re fourteen,” he commented, laughing. He
gave his younger daughter a sideways glance. “You’re not going to get a boyfriend anytime soon,
are you?”

Lily blushed red, uncomfortable with her father’s teasing. “No, of course not!” she exclaimed,
avoiding his gaze. “Most of the boys at my school are annoying, anyway.”

An image of James Potter and Sirius Black popped into her head, and she grimaced. Good-looking
they may be, but who would want to date immature prats who spent their free time setting off
dungbombs in the corridors, convincing Moaning Myrtle to flood her bathroom, filling the
Apollyon Pringle, the caretaker’s, desk drawers with frogspawn, or changing the color of the
drapes in the Slytherin common room from green and silver to red and gold? Certainly not Lily.

“Other than Severus, right, you’re still friends with him?” Richard asked, his gaze on the road.

“Yes, but we’re just friends!” Lily exclaimed, flushing even more. She’d had enough of Sirius and
James calling Severus her boyfriend to tease her over the course of the past year, she didn’t need
her father implying that they were dating as well.

“That’s not what I was suggesting, baby girl,” Richard said, chuckling slightly and glancing over at
her. “I just wanted to know if you two were still close.”

“Well, we are,” Lily said, a bit embarrassed at her overreaction. “I still wish we were in the same
house, though.”

“Explain this whole Slytherin and Gryffindor thing to me,” Richard requested. “Why don’t your
houses like one another?”

“The founders of the two houses didn’t see eye to eye,” Lily explained. “Salazar Slytherin thought
only children who grew up in wizarding families should be let into Hogwarts, and Godric
Gryffindor, along with the other founders, thought that everyone should be let into the school.”

“So this Salazar Slytherin,” Richard said, his brow furrowed as he continued to look ahead at the
road. “If he'd gotten his way, you wouldn’t be able to attend Hogwarts at all, would you?”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Lily confirmed, her shoulders sagging slightly as she thought of the looks she
sometimes got from Slytherins other than Severus, the whispered comments and laughter behind
their hands as they watched her pass in the corridors.

“And the Slytherins...do they still believe that people from non-magic families shouldn’t be able to
go and learn magic?”

Lily hesitated. “Some of them do,” she admitted after a moment. “There aren’t any Muggle-borns
in Slytherin that I know of, since the founder didn’t want us in his house. A lot of the students in
Slytherin come from old wizarding families that have traditional views, and a lot of them look
down on people who come from Muggle families or even people who come from all-wizarding
families but don’t look down on Muggle-borns.”
Richard was silent for a few moments, and Lily waited nervously for his response. He sighed
finally and glanced over at her briefly before turning his gaze back to the road.

“That’s...well, that’s awful, Lily.” He paused, brow furrowed as he seemed to be trying to find
words. “Do these students give you a hard time?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted, looking down at her hands in her lap. “I mean, not that often, and they
don’t do much. Sometimes they sneer at me and whisper under their breath about me and some of
my housemates.”

“Are some of your housemates also Muggle-borns?” Richard asked, a look of concern on his face.

“One of my roommates, Mary, is,” Lily replied. “Emmeline and Hestia are half-bloods, Dorcas and
Marlene are purebloods, but they don’t care about blood status. None of the boys in my year are
Muggle-born, but they’re all either half-bloods or purebloods but blood traitors. Gryffindors usually
care less about that kind of thing.”

“You just threw a lot of unfamiliar words at me,” Richard said, giving her a gentle smile.
“Pureblood, half-blood, blood traitor, blood status, what do all those mean?”

“Blood status basically means how many of your ancestors were wizards,” Lily explained, more
slowly. “Purebloods are wizards who don’t have any known non-magical ancestors. Half-bloods
are everyone in between purebloods and Muggle-borns, so they have some Muggle ancestors and
some wizard ancestors, too. And purebloods are called blood traitors when they don’t hate
Muggles and Muggle-borns.”

There was another pause before her father spoke again. “Lily, this is worrying stuff,” he said
seriously. “This whole ‘blood status’ thing, and it influencing your place in society...people get
killed over that stuff.”

“I’m okay, though,” Lily said quickly, trying to reassure her father. She'd never brought any of this
up to her family before for this exact reason: she didn’t want her parents to worry for her safety.
“Mostly it’s not a thing I think about at Hogwarts, except in classes with the Slytherins. No one
else really treats me differently.”

“Is Severus friends with these Slytherins that treat you poorly?” Richard asked sharply. “What does
he believe?”

Lily hesitated. She wasn’t exactly sure how to explain to her father about Severus and his
housemates. Of course, she told herself, he didn’t get to choose who he roomed with, or had classes
with. These things were out of his control, and just because they were the people he spent time with
when he wasn't with Lily didn’t mean that he was a bad person, no matter what Marlene, James, or
Sirius said about him. Severus had assured her that he'd done nothing to them to make them dislike
him, and Lily believed him. They were just judgmental. As for the fact that she sensed that her
other roommates didn’t like him, either...Lily couldn’t explain that.

“He doesn’t think that I’m any different because I come from a non-magical family,” Lily said
finally. She paused, and added reluctantly: “But he does hang around them, sometimes.”

Richard raised his eyebrows and shot her a worried look before looking back at the road. They
were only a few minutes away from home now. “And have you told him about how they treat
you?”

“Not really,” Lily muttered bashfully.

“I think you should talk to him about it, honey,” her father said seriously. “He shouldn’t be friends
with people who treat you like you’re not as good as them because of your so-called ‘blood
status.’”

“I just don’t want to make him feel like he can’t spend time around anyone but me,” Lily said. “It’s
not his fault that he’s in the same house as them.”

Richard made a neutral, humming noise in his throat and gave her a look out of the corner of his
eye, a look that made her cringe slightly in on herself. It was so familiar, the Richard Evans look
that saw right through her. It was the kind of look that had made Lily confess whatever indiscretion
she was keeping quiet about when she’d been a kid, that made her show him a mess she’d made
and apologize as tears welled in her eyes. In response, he’d just crouch down to her level, brush his
thumbs under her eyes to wipe away the tears, and tell her that it was fine and that they could clean
it up together.

“I’ll try to talk to him about it,” Lily conceded finally, after a long silence.

“Okay. I trust you, Lily,” Richard said, pulling into the driveway of their house and turning the car
off, giving her a smile.

He didn’t specify what he trusted her to do, exactly, but Lily thought she knew. Ever since she’d
been young, it was a constant refrain in her house from both her parents: I trust you. She knew it
was true; they did trust her and Petunia to do the right thing, to reflect on what their parents had
taught them about right and wrong when they encountered problems in their lives. And if they
made mistakes, well, their parents were always there to help them fix them. Still, Lily sometimes
worried whether she could truly live up to the trust.

As Lily opened her car door and stepped out onto the driveway, the front door of the Evans’ house
opened, and Amelia Evans appeared, beaming at her younger daughter.

“Lily!” She exclaimed, hurrying out and enclosing her in a warm hug. “I’ve missed you so much,
dear.”

“I’ve missed you, too, mum,” Lily said, smiling into her mother’s shoulder. Amelia pulled back
after a few moments, smiling as she took in her daughter’s appearance. “You’ve grown since you
were last here!”

“That’s what dad said,” Lily replied, rolling her eyes. “But I don’t see it.”

Amelia laughed, gesturing for Lily to step inside. “Come on, dinner is ready just in time. Your
father can get your trunk.”

Lily smiled and walked into her home, looking around the sitting room. There were a few new
paintings on the wall, a usual occurrence in her home, as her mother often put up her new work
before getting tired of it and selling it in her studio after a few months. Usually they depicted
flowers, fields, or forests, as these were her mother’s favorite subjects, rather than people. Still, the
only paintings that remained permanent in their household were the portraits that Amelia had done
of Lily and Petunia when they were five and seven, which hung in her parents’ bedroom.

Speaking of Petunia, as Lily entered the sitting room, her sister lifted her head to glance up at her
briefly from where she was lying on the couch, reading a magazine. While Lily’s appearance was
colorful and contrasting, with her vibrant red hair and bright green eyes, Petunia’s looks were
softer. She had sandy blonde hair, which she'd inherited from their father, and light blue eyes,
which were the same as their mother’s. Ever since Lily had been a little girl, she’d always admired
her older sister’s beauty, and now at fourteen, Petunia Evans was as pretty as ever, even with the
cold look on her face she now used to regard her younger sister.

“Hello,” Petunia said, looking her sister up and down with an unreadable expression on her face
before turning back to her magazine, not moving from her spot on the couch.

Lily smiled nervously at her older sister. “Hi, Tuney,” she said. “I’ve missed you.”

“Mm-hm,” Petunia said, not looking back up at her. Hurt blossomed in Lily’s chest as she looked
down at Petunia, like an old wound that had been cut open again. She sighed and shook herself out
of the now familiar sensation, moving past Petunia to help her father carry her heavy trunk up the
stairs to her bedroom.

Amelia had made shepherd’s pie for dinner that night, Lily’s favorite, and trifle for dessert to
celebrate her daughter’s homecoming. Lily was properly stuffed by the end of the evening, her
mother and father’s loving company and jokes cheering her and making up for Petunia’s stony
silence. Hours later, it was finally time for bed, and Lily went upstairs, looking around her room
fondly.

Having her own bedroom again after living for months with five other girls felt rather luxurious.
Not sleepy yet, Lily began to unpack her trunk, putting away things in their familiar places while
the soft sound of The Beatles played from the record player and speakers in the corner of her room,
which her father had given Lily for her tenth birthday. She’d missed listening to Muggle music in
her time at Hogwarts, too, as her stereo didn’t work there, but she wouldn’t have had room for it in
her trunk, anyway.

After unpacking most of her things, Lily finally began to feel tired, and changed into her pajamas,
going down the hall to wash her face and brush her teeth. After she patted her skin dry, Lily
examined the spots on her forehead critically for a moment before sighing and shrugging. Finishing
in the bathroom, she headed back down the hall, glancing sideways at her sister’s closed door
before walking to her own and shutting it behind her.

She crawled under her covers, switching off the light on her bedside table and settling her head
down on the pillow. It took her longer than usual to drift off to sleep. After an hour of restlessness,
Lily realized her insomnia was due to the lack of Marlene’s usual soft snores in the background,
something she'd always found to be a nuisance before now. She huffed out an impatient sigh and
rolled onto her other side, though the slight smile that bloomed on her lips proved that the irony
wasn't lost on her.

....

The first days of summer progressed in their usual manner. Lily would get up each day, get ready,
then either set about finding a book to read or go off to do something around Cokeworth.
Cokeworth wasn't a very nice town; it was rather dirty and dreary, the buildings crowded together
and casting shadows on the streets, blocking the sun. The roads were patchy and uneven, and the
sidewalks were dirty and sometimes strewn with garbage that city workers were not paid enough to
pick up.

The street that Lily and her family lived on, luckily for them, was one of the nicer ones in
Cokeworth. It was on the outskirts, not quite in the city, the river separating them from the rest of
the inhabitants. This river, though it wasn’t the cleanest either, was one of Lily’s favorite places to
spend time at. Its banks held some of the rare greenery in Cokeworth, trees and grass which were
not as clogged by the city’s grime as the few patches of green along the sidewalks. It was true that
teenagers went there to smoke and drink, and often left their garbage behind them, but the spot that
Lily had claimed as her own along the bank, which was only a dozen yards from the church and
graveyard up the slope, was usually spared from the litter.

The place was shaded by trees and the ground was cushioned by a combination of grass and moss.
In spring, daffodils grew by the water, and throughout the summer, other wildflowers lined the
little clearing, making it feel almost magical to Lily. Though the river was too dirty to swim in,
Lily spent hours in this little clearing, sometimes reading, sometimes napping, sometimes making
flower crowns with the daisies that grew there. The previous year, when Lily had met Severus,
she'd shown him this special place, swearing him to secrecy, and now the two spent much of their
time there.

Often they sat in silence, reading parallel to one another, both in their own little worlds. Lily liked
to read a combination of wizarding books and Muggle ones. They ranged from fiction to
nonfiction: history books, novels, biographies, textbooks, fairytales, and everything in between.
Sometimes, when she came across something she didn’t understand in a wizarding book, she’d ask
Severus about it, and he’d explain the concept to her readily.

Severus, for his part, didn’t read many fiction books but preferred nonfiction, and only those by
wizarding authors. Sometimes he poured over books about potion-making, writing little notes in
the margins. Other times, he spent hours absorbed in books about spell-writing and advanced
sorcery in Charms, though Lily reminded him they wouldn’t be able to do any of that stuff until at
least fourth year. He seemed to hold a particular fascination with the D.A.D.A. books he brought,
too, pouring over the chapters about dark creatures and spells. Occasionally, he’d bring books that
contained information about the Dark Arts, which he justified to Lily by saying that it was good to
know what you were up against. Still, the thought of what was in those books made her rather
uncomfortable, which Severus seemed to sense, as he stopped bringing them.

It wasn’t until mid-July that Lily finally got up the courage to talk to him about the issue that her
father had encouraged her to bring up.

“Severus?” she inquired one day, setting down her book and looking over at him where he was
lying a yard away from her on the grass, absorbed in his Advanced Charms book.

“Hmm,” he acknowledged, not looking up at her. Lily fidgeted with her long hair, twirling the ends
nervously, her heart beating fast in anticipation of the topic she was about to bring up.

“How well do you know the other Slytherins?” she asked. Severus seemed to freeze for a moment,
his eyes ceasing their movement across the page he was reading, before they flicked up to her.

“Why?” he asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at her as he frowned. She shrugged, and he
raised his eyebrows, but answered her nonetheless. “I don’t know most of them that well. After all,
I spent most of my free time with you during the term.”

“But you spend some time around them, don’t you?” Lily asked anxiously, still toying with her
hair. “When we’re not together?”

“Well, yes,” Severus said, starting to look rather annoyed. “What, am I supposed to spend all my
time alone when I’m not with you? Am I supposed to ignore them in classes and not talk to them in
the dormitory? Is that what you do?”

“Well, of course you shouldn’t be alone,” Lily said, backtracking and giving him a guilty look. “I
just...well, I’m not sure if I like some of your housemates. They’re not very nice to me.”

“You probably misinterpreted,” Severus said dismissively, eyes flicking back to his book for a
moment before he sighed, sounding put upon, and folded down the page, putting it aside so that his
attention was fully on her. “I mean, they’re not all openly friendly like some of your Gryffindor
friends, but they’re cool.”

Lily swallowed, meeting his gaze and trying to muster up the courage to say what she came here to
say. “I think they don’t like me because I’m a Muggle-born,” she said, her face flushing even as
she said it, as his frown deepened.

“You’re just being paranoid,” Severus told her. “I know that the rest of the school doesn’t always
like Slytherins, especially some of your Gryffindor friends, but I thought you knew better than to
believe everything people say about us.”

“So you’ve never heard any of the people you hang around say anything against Muggle-borns?”
Lily pressed.

“No, I haven’t, Lily,” Severus replied, sighing tiredly and shooting her a glare. “If you haven’t
forgotten, I’m not a pureblood, either. Can’t you just trust my word, as your best friend, over those
of your housemates?”

Lily’s face was very hot now, and she felt suddenly sorry for bringing the conversation up. “Of
course I trust you, Sev, it’s just—”

“Then trust that I’m a good judge of character, and leave it to me to pick who I spend my time with
while you’re off with your Gryffindor housemates,” Severus interrupted, his voice holding cold
finality as he turned back to his book. His jaw was clenched, and he didn’t look at her, even as she
continued to stare at him, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

Lily felt deeply ashamed. Of course he'd to make the most of his situation, as they weren’t in the
same house. What, did she expect him not to ever talk to the people he lived with, had classes with,
and ate meals with? Perhaps she was just being selfish, wanting him to just be her friend while she
was friends with other people in addition to him. Maybe he was right, and her housemates were just
trying to get her to doubt him with their pointed comments about Slytherins. Dorcas, Emmeline,
Hestia, and Mary might be nice, but she'd known Severus for longer, and she must choose him over
them if they were determined not to like him. She resolved to be more vigilant in the future.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. He didn’t respond, so she turned back to her own reading, but her
stomach was in knots for the rest of the day, and the two friends didn’t speak much before they
went their separate ways around suppertime. Lily trudged back to her house, still feeling heavy with
guilt. She wondered what her father would think about the result of the conversation, but resolved
not to tell him. He trusted her, after all. Maybe it was time for her to trust Severus.

....

The rest of the summer passed quickly for Lily, and soon enough she received a letter from
Hogwarts detailing the things she’d need for her second year of instruction. She initially went to
Severus to see if they could go together to Diagon Alley to get their things, but he told her that his
mother was going to get them for him on her own, so Lily ended up going with only her mother to
London in late August to get her new books and supplies for the coming year.

The trip went smoothly, and Amelia Evans was, as always, fascinated by the wizarding shops.
They went to Gringotts first to exchange their pounds for wizarding gold, then set about going from
shop to shop, gathering all the various items Lily would need for her second year. When they
walked out of Flourish and Blotts, Lily spotted a familiar head of dark curls across the street.
“Lily!” Dorcas exclaimed from where she was standing outside Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream
Parlor.

Lily smiled as the other girl ran up to her, giving her a big hug. Dorcas had promised to write her at
the end of the term, and she'd made good on her word, sending her snowy owl, Avellana, to her
several times throughout the summer. it'd been nice to hear from her, though Lily was still
surprised every time she received a letter from the other girl. Given Lily’s dislike of Dorcas’ best
friend, Marlene, and Marlene’s distaste for Lily in return, she’d thought Dorcas would have chosen
her over Lily long ago.

“It’s so nice to see you!” Dorcas exclaimed as she pulled back.

“It’s good to see you, too,” Lily said, smiling. “Are you getting your school supplies?”

“Yeah, James, Marlene, and I are all getting them together,” Dorcas said, gesturing back to where
she'd been standing. Lily looked past her, registering Marlene and James holding back and talking
to one another for the first time. They hadn’t bothered to come over to greet her, but Lily wasn’t
complaining.

“Mum, this is my roommate, Dorcas Meadowes,” Lily said, remembering her manners. “Dorcas,
this is my mum, Amelia.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Dorcas,” Amelia said, smiling down at Dorcas’ beaming face. “Lily’s
told me a great deal about you. I’ve even met your owl, Avellana, a couple of times as she comes
with your letters. She’s very beautiful.”

“It’s so nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Evans,” Dorcas said, smiling up at the older woman. “I hope
Avellana hasn’t messed anything up in your household. She can be a bit feisty at times.”

“She’s been perfectly behaved whenever I’ve seen her,” Amelia assured her.

“Would you want to have ice cream with us?” Dorcas asked Lily, nodding to James and Marlene
behind her. “Our parents are getting gold at Gringotts, so we’re waiting for them here.” Lily
glanced past her to where James and Marlene were standing, then back up at her mother.

“Thanks for offering, but it’s a long drive back to Cokeworth, so we should be going soon,
actually,” she said, giving Dorcas an apologetic smile.

Amelia didn’t argue, even though they still had plenty of time before dinner, and Lily knew her
mother was aware that she was just making an excuse. Lily gave Dorcas one last hug before
bidding her goodbye, telling her she’d see her on the Hogwarts Express in no time. As Amelia and
Lily turned away and Dorcas went back to Marlene and James, Lily could hear her scolding them.

“Lily might have joined us if it weren’t for you two annoying sods,” Dorcas said faintly in the
background. “You could have at least said hello!”

Lily smiled slightly as she heard Marlene and James hurry to retort back, defensiveness in both
their voices, before she moved out of earshot. Thankfully, Lily’s mother didn’t comment on her
refusal to join her classmates, and they walked in amicable silence away from the ice cream shop as
Amelia consulted Lily’s list.

“I think we’ve got everything,” she declared finally.

“Should we go back through the Leaky Cauldron, then?” Lily asked her mother, hoisting one of her
book bags more firmly onto her shoulder.
“Not quite yet, I think,” Amelia said, smiling. “There’s one more shop I’d like to go into.”

Lily stared at her mother, mystified, as she led her toward the Magical Menagerie. Her mother shot
her a smile, opening the door and holding it for her daughter to enter. Lily walked into the shop,
looking all around. Everywhere there were cages full of a variety of strange animals, from ordinary
cats and dogs to what looked like multi-colored puff balls, which were making high-pitched
whistling sounds.

“What are we doing in here?” Lily asked her mother, confused even as she looked around the shop
in interest.

“Well, your father and I had the idea around your birthday this year—” Amelia explained, smiling
at her daughter. “—that instead of getting you a lot of presents, we could get you a bigger gift over
the summer before your second year.”

“Wait, you mean—” Lily asked, her eyes widening as she looked around the shop. “You’re going
to buy me a pet?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, dear,” Amelia said, beaming down at her daughter, pleased by her
obvious excitement. “We thought of choosing one for you, but we decided it would be better for
you to do it yourself.”

“Oh my god,” Lily exclaimed, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet excitedly, her face
breaking into a wide smile. “What on earth should I choose?”

“You could get an owl like your friend Dorcas has,” Amelia suggested, turning to examine the
cages around her.

“Hmmm,” Lily said, looking around critically as she thought. “I can already use the school owls
when I’m at Hogwarts, though. I don’t really need one.”

Her gaze drifted over to the wall where the cages containing the cats stood, and she couldn’t help
the coo that escaped her lips as she rushed over, crouching down to reach her fingers tentatively
into one particular cage. The little calico inside moved forward to sniff her, then pressed closer,
rubbing up against her hand and purring. She glanced up at her mother, who had followed her, and
was smiling down at the cat in the cage.

“Can I meet her?” Lily asked the proprietor of the shop, who nodded, opening the cage and letting
the cat leap down smoothly onto the floor and twine around Lily. The calico allowed Lily to pet
her, purring and rubbing against her, and Lily was immediately besotted. Amelia Evans allowed
Lily to get acquainted for several minutes while she asked the shopkeeper questions about the cat,
confirming that she was spayed, that she got along with most people, and the details of her care.
After fifteen minutes, Lily was beaming with delight and carrying the cat back to the car in her
new carrier.

Amelia helped her daughter put her books and school supplies in the back of the car, then handed
the cat’s carrier to her after she sat down in the passenger seat. Once her mother started driving,
Lily opened the carrier, stowing it at her feet once the cat had climbed out of it, and settling her
into her lap, which the cat submitted to with little fuss. Amelia smiled to herself as she glanced
over to find her daughter stroking the feline, an adoring expression on her face.

“What do you think you’ll call her?” Amelia asked after several moments of comfortable silence.

“I was thinking Callie,” Lily said, not looking up from her lap. “She feels like a Callie.”
 “That’s a good name,” Amelia agreed.

On the car ride back to Cokeworth, Callie fell asleep in Lily’s lap while mother and daughter
discussed the classes Lily was most looking forward to in the coming school year—Potions and
Charms—and as Lily told her mother more about all the unusual features of the castle, which
Amelia was fascinated with. Once they’d exhausted that topic, Lily told her mother about the
different elective classes that she’d have to choose between at the end of second year to start taking
in third year, Amelia commenting on which ones seemed the most interesting to her. Of course, her
mother was excited by the prospect of Care of Magical Creatures, as Lily had expected, and she
quite agreed, but she thought all of them sounded interesting.

Once they arrived back home, Richard had dinner prepared, but he spent ten minutes doting on
Callie before they were all able to eat. Petunia greeted the cat with a snort and said that animals
were unhygienic, to which Lily rolled her eyes. She was getting a bit better at not letting her sister’s
jibes get to her, she thought. After dinner, Lily went upstairs to pack her purchases securely into
her trunk. There were already a few things in there, mostly her old books from the previous year
which she still needed for her current classes, and her completed homework assignments for the
summer. She sighed happily, taking in the open trunk, which Callie promptly jumped into, lying
down among the books like it was her new home. Lily laughed and picked her up, laying Callie
down on her bed instead and curling around her, petting her soft fur as the cat purred happily.

While Callie’s presence was indeed exciting, Lily was also extremely relieved to know that she’d
have the cat as a companion during the following years at Hogwarts. Though she loved the castle
and her classes, it was still rather lonely sometimes, and difficult to be away from home. Lily really
did like her housemates—some of them, at least—and valued the friendships that she was building
with Dorcas and some of the other girls, but Severus’ words from July had made her question
whether she could really trust them.

Lily felt wary of them, now more than ever, and, if she was honest with herself, she knew that
she'd always been an outsider in their group. While they spent most of their time around each other,
she was often off with Severus, so it was natural that they wouldn’t fully accept her. She knew she
did it to herself, but there was no helping it. It was Severus who had told her she was a witch, after
all, and Severus who was her closest friend, and knew her best. He was always by her side, and she
owed it to him to be loyal. She owed it to him to trust his word over theirs, so she’d try to.

It took a long time for Lily to fall asleep that night, and she couldn’t help but wish, not for the first
time, that she had Marlene’s snores in the background, as they might have drowned out some of her
troubled thoughts.

Chapter End Notes

P.S. What Snape is doing to Lily is gaslighting and not an acceptable way to treat your
friends (or anyone).
 1972: Lying Game

On the morning of the first of September, 1972, Remus awoke quite suddenly at the crack of dawn,
opening his eyes to the first rays of sun streaming in from his window and the realization that, in a
few hours, he’d see his friends again. Remus wasn’t usually a morning person—his parents well
used to his sullenness whenever he was forced to rise before at least nine a.m., and his roommates
at school always trading amused glances in the face of his deep frowns and mumbled threats
whenever one of them woke him particularly early.

Still, on this particular morning, Remus couldn’t even imagine going back to sleep, and instead sat
up to stare out of his bedroom window and watch as the sun rose over the Welsh hills in the
distance. Once it’d crested the nearest hill and bathed the valley in light, Remus turned his eyes
instead to look around his room, gaze quickly falling on the packed trunk that was sitting
expectantly at the foot of his bed. As if by its prompting, Remus stood and began to ready himself
for the day.

As he brushed his teeth in the small bathroom that he and his parents shared, Remus’ gaze
flickered almost unwillingly to his reflection in the mirror. His own blue eyes stared back at him,
unnaturally large in his thin face below light brown, wavy hair.

Remus sometimes had trouble reconciling himself with his appearance. After many years, he was
still surprised by how mild he looked when he saw himself in a mirror, as if he'd been expecting
some trace of the wolf to be staring back at him. The only physical evidence that Remus was a
werewolf, however, were the scars. They littered his skin, some on his chest and back, a couple on
his arms and legs, and, most prominently, a large bite mark on his upper thigh. This largest scar
was a mark of the place that the werewolf who had bitten him had dug in and clung on, that night
seven and a half years ago, when Remus’ entire life had changed.

Most of Remus’ scars were pale and not very noticeable to the casual observer, but Remus’ eyes
still went to them automatically whenever he caught sight of his own skin. He was lucky it was
only scars, he told himself, lucky for the healing potions and spells that his father and Madam
Pomfrey employed to make his wounds heal almost instantly after full moons. Not all of them left
lasting marks on his skin, either, just enough for Remus to feel self-conscious. Enough for him to
wear long sleeves year-round if he could manage it, and enough to avoid looking at his reflection
in the mirror for too long. Still, it was easier to explain away scars to the rare person who noticed
them than it would be to explain a healing bite mark or scratch. This was good, too, because
Remus’ ability to attend Hogwarts at all relied upon him explaining away many things, and the
easier it was for him to do so, the better.

Remus often felt anxious about the possibility that he’d slip up in one of his lies, and that his
classmates would find out about his condition, ruining his chance of keeping any friends and of
attending school any longer. During the past year, he’d made up several different excuses for his
disappearances, mostly to his roommates, who would notice his absences when others wouldn’t.
He sometimes told them that he had to visit his sick mother at home, and other times would say
that he himself was ill, and had to stay in the Hospital Wing for the night. This excuse seemed
relatively plausible, Remus thought, as he did always look a bit pale and peaky in the days leading
up to, and following, the full moon. Still, his friends were intelligent and somewhat suspicious by
nature—one of the many things Remus couldn’t help but like about them—and he sometimes
wondered whether they mistrusted his tales.

It was strange, how it felt sometimes like Remus had been tricked into making friends with them.
He’d never even believed he’d be able to attend Hogwarts at all until that day a year and a half ago
when Albus Dumbledore himself had shown up on the Lupins’ doorstep to politely inform them
that he’d been accepted to Hogwarts, and discuss options to accommodate him at school. That had
been a miracle within a miracle to Remus, but he’d always assumed—given his father’s many
lectures on the importance of keeping his secret—that he’d have to keep his distance from other
students during his time there.

He’d tried for a time, too, not joining in conversations with his classmates and declining offers to
go on the adventures his roommates dreamed up, but eventually, they’d worn him down. Remus
told himself it wasn’t his fault, as he’d learned quickly in his time at Hogwarts that any good plan
could be foiled by the likes of James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew, whether it be a prank
that seemed foolproof until one of them fell out of the broom cupboard they’d been hiding in, a
dozen brooms falling out after them in a clatter, or Remus’ well-crafted resolution to isolate
himself from the other students in his year. It just wasn’t meant to be.

James, of course, was the main culprit. He’d proven himself to be simultaneously too stubborn and
too self-confident to take the hint that Remus really just wanted to be left alone, instead opting to
shove himself into Remus’ affections with the air of an overzealous family dog nudging a reluctant
guest’s hand for pets when they were trying valiantly to ignore it. Remus had watched him do just
the same to Sirius, who, though he hadn’t tried to isolate himself in quite the same manner as
Remus, still seemed to balk at the idea of letting his friends get closer to him than a safe arm’s
length away, both metaphorically and literally. Perhaps part of Remus’ grudging acceptance of the
fact that James considered him a friend was the slightly endearing way he watched Sirius give in at
the same time, which for some reason made him feel closer to the other boy, too.

Remus wondered if it was because of their joint reluctance to join the group that he and Sirius had
gained a peculiar way of understanding one another that neither James nor Peter could claim. It
was as if, without speaking any of it aloud, he'd recognized something in each other that he'd only
previously seen in themselves. This feeling lingered long after James had wormed his way into both
of their hearts, creating a close-knit group from four strangers. The whole summer, Remus’ heart
had ached missing them. Though he'd exchanged several owls back and forth with all three, it
wasn’t the same. That day, however, they’d reunite on the train, and Remus couldn’t help the way
his heart leapt in anticipation at the thought.

Remus exited the bathroom and walked down the stairs to the sitting room, thinking that one of his
parents would probably be awake by that time. He wasn't disappointed, as he spotted his mother in
the kitchen, her back to him as she busied herself making tea.

Remus cleared his throat slightly, not wanting to startle her, and said: “Morning, mam.”

Hope Lupin turned at the sound of his voice, smiling to see her son standing at the bottom of the
stairs. Hope resembled Remus quite a bit, with the same wavy, light brown hair, thin face, and
straight nose. She had brown eyes, however, while Remus had inherited his blue ones from his
father, Lyall, along with his magic. Despite the fact that Hope was a Muggle, and couldn’t tell
Remus the stories of the wizarding world he’d always loved to hear as a child, Remus had always
been closer to his mother than his father. Hope had a soft, gentle, and imaginative nature, which
lifted his spirits, as, just like his father, Remus tended towards pessimism.

“Good morning, cariad,” Hope said, smiling at her son as he walked over and sat down on the
other side of the kitchen counter. “Are you excited to go back to Hogwarts?” she asked, pushing a
mug of Earl Grey tea in front of him. She must have heard him get up, and prepared tea for him as
well as for her. Remus wrapped his hands around the mug, warming them, and gave her a sheepish
smile.
“I am,” he admitted. “I’ll miss you, though.”

“You’ll be fine,” Hope said, laying her hand on his cheek affectionately. “I’m sure your friends
will be excited to see you again. I wish they could’ve visited this summer. I’d love to meet them
someday.”

Remus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He didn’t much like the idea of having his friends over to
his house. It wasn’t about the house itself. He knew it was modest, definitely much smaller than
where either James or Sirius had grown up, though he wasn’t sure about Peter, but he knew they
wouldn’t care, and he loved it for what it was.

No, it was more about the secrets that it held that bothered him. Obviously, there was the cellar
where he’d spent every full moon from the age of six until he’d left for Hogwarts, and the last two
he’d endured over the summer. More than this, however, was the purposeful seclusion of their
house from the rest of either Muggle or wizard society, as the little family had found the far-off
spot after two years of moving around, trying to keep other people from finding out about Remus’
condition. Then there was the fact that his mother—whom Remus had told his friends was ill on
numerous occasions to excuse his absence on full moons—resided here, completely healthy. The
place felt full of secrets, and Remus thought that bringing his friends here might unleash them, all
at once, like the contents of Pandora’s box.

All he said to his mother on the subject, however, was a muttered, “Of course you will,” and she
didn’t press him further. After drinking their tea, Remus helped his mother prepare breakfast.
Remus’ father joined them as they sat eating toast and scrambled eggs, and, when they were
finished, Remus’ parents shooed away his offer to help clean up. He sunk into his usual spot on the
well-worn couch in the sitting room, listening to the clatter of dishes and daydreaming about the
noise of hundreds of students eating in the Great Hall, the chaos which he sometimes complained
about but which he'd missed more in the past months than he could put into words.

After a few minutes, his parents joined him in the sitting room, pulling him from his thoughts and
into easy conversation. They sat there for a while, talking about the subjects Remus was looking
forward to or dreading in the upcoming term, the books they were reading, and the state of the
garden. Remus knew that both his parents were trying to savor the last dregs of the time that they
had together before he went away again, and Remus was too, in a way. He really would miss them,
and this place, but he couldn’t deny the itch of longing and anticipation that was growing stronger
and stronger even as they sat there, watching the time on the clock tick closer to when he could
leave for King’s Cross.

No doubt sensing his restlessness, thirty minutes before the train was scheduled to leave, Lyall
finally sent Remus upstairs to do one last check to see if he’d forgotten to pack anything important.
Remus performed a cursory once-over on his room, and, finding nothing of import that he hadn’t
packed yet, grasped the handle of his trunk and headed back downstairs. Twenty minutes to eleven,
Remus hugged his mother goodbye at the gate of their little cottage garden, his father next to him,
now carrying Remus’ trunk in one hand. After one last look, Remus placed his hand on his father’s
arm, and they turned on the spot in unison as Lyall apparated them both to an empty alley next to
King’s Cross Station in London.

Lyall allowed Remus a moment to collect himself in the alley—catching his breath, smoothing
down his hair, and trying to shake the unpleasant feeling of apparition—before he led him into the
station, still carrying his trunk. When they reached the barrier between platforms nine and ten, they
looked around surreptitiously before walking casually towards the barrier and disappearing
through it onto platform nine and three-quarters. The Hogwarts Express stood there, already
belching steam, and Remus couldn’t help the wide smile that spread across his face at the familiar
sight.

Lyall first helped Remus put his trunk into the luggage rack on the train, then they stepped back
out onto the platform to say their goodbyes. Lyall pulled his son into a hug, holding Remus to him
tightly for a long moment. Remus wondered whether he’d let go, as the previous year Lyall had
almost changed his mind about everything right then and there, at the prospect of letting his son
board the train to Hogwarts.

Still, Lyall did pull back eventually, letting Remus detach himself with a sad smile. “You’ll take
care of yourself, won’t you?” he asked gruffly, brushing Remus’ hair out of his eyes with one hand.
“Stay safe.”

Remus didn’t need his father to state it explicitly to know what the edge of anxiety in his voice
meant, the unspoken words of caution that he wanted to say but pulled himself back from uttering
in the rapidly filling platform. Be smart, Lyall would have said if he'd been alone. Remember not to
let your guard down.

“Of course I will,” Remus said, giving his father a reassuring smile. “I’ll write to you and mam
often.”

“Good,” Lyall said. “You can tell us all about how your classes are going, and whatever mischief
those friends of yours have got you caught up in.” He smiled, but Remus could still see the anxiety
in his expression, the twitch at the mention of Remus’ friends.

“I’m sure they’ll come up with lots of hare-brained schemes that’ll make you laugh,” Remus said,
rolling his eyes. And I’m sure I’ll add to them whenever I can, he added silently to himself.

“I’m sure I will be highly amused,” Lyall responded. “Now go find yourself a compartment, and
have a good train ride. Remember that we love you.”

“Love you, too,” Remus echoed, giving his father one last reassuring smile before hurrying off
toward the nearest door to the train. When he climbed inside, he gave his father a quick wave
through the window, then turned away to head down the corridor, his heart already beating fast
with excitement as he made his way towards the compartment that he, Sirius, James, and Peter had
shared for the past two train rides together.

He quickly located the compartment and slid the door open, finding it to be empty, as Remus had
expected it to be, though he was still a little disappointed at the sight. He cheered himself with the
knowledge that it would still only be minutes until he saw his roommates again, and took a seat by
the window, looking out onto the platform, which was rapidly becoming more and more crowded.
His father had gone by then, and Remus scanned the crowd instead for his classmates and friends,
hoping to catch sight of a familiar face.

He caught flashes of features he thought might belong to people he knew, at a distance—the rosy
cheeks and olive skin of Hestia Jones, the long, raven-colored locks of Mary Macdonald, and the
fair, freckly profile of Marlene McKinnon—but he didn’t see any of the rest of his roommates. It
only took about five minutes for one of them to find him, however.

With a bang so loud that Remus thought it might shatter the glass, the compartment door slid open,
and Sirius Black dashed inside. Barely giving Remus time to prepare himself, Sirius strode over
towards him and lifted the other boy from his seat into an enthusiastic and rib-cracking hug, letting
out a triumphant whoop as Remus laughed helplessly into his shoulder. When Sirius finally
released him, Remus sat back down gingerly, Sirius throwing himself into the seat across from
him.
“And I thought that I was excited to come back!” Remus joked, rubbing his chest and wincing
slightly.

“You would not believe the shite I’ve had to deal with the past two months, Remus!” Sirius
exclaimed, the broad grin on his face belying his words. “I was going insane in that house with my
family. Trust me, if I’d had to stay even another week, I would’ve exploded!”

Remus examined his friend as he spoke, taking in the pallor of his face, the flush in his cheeks
standing out more than usual against it, and the circles under his eyes. All this was brightened by
the relieved grin on his face, however, the joy in his eyes evident as he looked across at Remus.
His hair was a bit longer than it’d been at the end of the previous year, which suited him, and
Remus wondered whether he was growing it out to anger his parents.

“I’m glad you’re away from there now, then,” Remus replied, trying to push the worry from his
voice, as he knew Sirius hated even the suggestion of pity directed at him. Remus tried to brush it
off as a joke, adding: “I’m also glad that I’m considered better company than your family, though
it is a low bar, I know.”

Sirius let out a laugh and reached a hand across the compartment to ruffle Remus’ hair. “You know
I missed you, Remus. Every morning I’d wake up and think, Merlin, you know what would break
this monotony? Someone trying to smother me with their pillow.”

“That was one time—” Remus began exasperatedly, but he broke off as the compartment door
opened once more and James walked in, grinning at them both. Sirius leapt up again and dashed
over to give James a big hug that looked about as bruising as Remus’ had been. Remus got to his
feet, too, giving James a much gentler hug after Sirius finally let go.

“Alright, alright, I know you both missed me terribly, but let a bloke breathe!” James said
dramatically, throwing himself down on the seat beside Sirius and beaming across at Remus.

“You’re so full of it,” Sirius replied, grinning at his best friend.

“Oh, so you haven’t been pining after me for the last two months?” James asked innocently,
turning to look at Sirius and putting a hand over his chest in mock hurt. “I’m crushed, mate.”

“Wow, it hasn’t even been two minutes and I’m already wondering why I missed you two,” Remus
said, rolling his eyes and dodging the kick that Sirius aimed at him for his words.

“Clearly Remus has been pining over you, James,” Sirius snorted, while James blew Remus a kiss.
They bantered back and forth for several more minutes, until the last member of their group
arrived, out of breath.

“You really cut it close, Pete,” James exclaimed, rising to welcome the shortest boy as the train
began to move, Remus and Sirius following in his wake.

“Yeah, I nearly missed it,” Peter said, shaking his head and smiling as he sat down next to Remus.
“Slept in too late.”

“What happens if you miss the train, d’you reckon?” James asked curiously. “I mean, do you think
I’d have to, like, get on my broom and fly to Hogwarts instead?”

“You wish,” Remus snorted. “That would break a couple of wizarding laws, including the fact that
someone could see you, and then the Statute of Secrecy would be at risk.”

“Not if I wore my invisibility cloak,” James argued.

“You wouldn’t be able to keep it on while you were flying, and it wouldn’t hide the underside of
your broom,” Sirius pointed out. “You’d have to perform a disillusionment charm.”

“We’re about four years away from learning how to do those,” Peter interjected, rolling his eyes
but smiling.

“Not to mention it would be underage magic if you did it outside of Hogwarts,” Remus added. “No,
I think you would just have to get someone to side-along apparate you—or get a Portkey—to
Hogsmeade.”

“That’s so boring, though,” James pouted.

“Please don’t purposefully miss the train to try and fly to Hogwarts one year, James,” Remus said,
an amused smile spreading over his face even as he regarded his roommate with exasperation.
“You’d be kicked out for sure.”

“His mum would never let him, anyway,” Sirius said, smirking.

“Oi, I could get away with it if I wanted to!” James exclaimed, glaring at Sirius.

“Wanna bet?” Sirius asked, leaning forward, a challenging gleam in his eye.

“No, you do not,” Remus said, fixing them both with a quelling look as Peter snickered softly from
behind his hand. James huffed in annoyance, while Sirius grinned across at Remus. Remus knew
that Sirius, like him, was marveling at how quickly they could fall back into their old rhythms with
one another.

“I really did miss you, Remus,” Sirius said, amused affection filling his voice. Remus only rolled
his eyes again, but he couldn’t quite hold back a smile, as he’d missed Sirius, too.

....

The first two weeks of term passed quite predictably for Remus. They all settled back into their
rhythms in the dorm, in classes, and with their friends. James and Marlene both succeeded in
making it onto the Gryffindor Quidditch team, James as a Chaser and Marlene as the new Seeker,
something they’d been swearing they’d do since the beginning of the previous year. Needless to
say, they both wouldn’t shut up about it for a moment.

Classes were more difficult, but Remus enjoyed the higher level magic they were learning, as it
was often more interesting than the stuff he'd learned in first year. He felt quite at home in the
castle, now, as the out-of-place, alienated feeling he’d experienced during his first year had
dissolved completely by the end of the previous term. This, of course, was in part due to the fact
that Remus had grown much more comfortable interacting with his classmates over the course of
the year. He’d felt completely out of sorts upon entering Hogwarts, not just because he was worried
about the possibility of people discovering his secret, but also because he'd hardly ever interacted
with any other people his age before.

This year, falling back into the groove of things was easier than ever before. Along with spending
most of his spare moments with his roommates, he also studied in the library in the company of
Lily Evans and Mary Macdonald often, too. Sirius and James generally refused to do work there,
preferring to complete their assignments in the noisy common room, which Remus couldn’t begin
to understand, but was lucky, as he doubted that Lily would assent to study with either of the two
boys. She was wary enough of him due to his association with them, but Remus was content
enough to limit his friendship with her to just studying, so he didn’t mind. Mary, too, was quiet, but
the occasional witty or observant remark she’d make at the most unexpected moments led Remus
to like her quite a bit, even if he didn’t know her well.

All too soon, the first full moon of the year approached, and Remus was forced to make the
decision, once again, of what he was going to tell his roommates to explain his absence, something
he dreaded every month. It was like playing a game of eenie, meenie, miny, mo, but it would play
over and over in his head until he finally got up the nerve to tell them something, and even then, it
never felt like the right excuse, whatever he decided. The day before the moon was full, he finally
made up his mind to use the sick mother excuse.

“Uh,” Remus said that night in the boys’ dormitory, clearing his throat slightly. “I got a letter this
morning from my dad. My mam’s ill again, so I have to go and see her tomorrow.”

Silence greeted his words, as James, Sirius, and Peter looked up at him from their various spots
around the room, interrupted in the act of getting ready for bed. Remus’ skin itched under the
weight of their gazes, the ache of his bones already noticeable. Finally, it was James who spoke.

“Sorry to hear that, mate,” he said carefully. He stood up and approached Remus, putting a hand on
his shoulder and giving him a rather awkward, sympathetic smile. Peter muttered his own
condolences, looking slightly embarrassed, as if he didn’t know what to say. Sirius, on the other
hand, wore a suspicious frown.

“But you just saw her two weeks ago. Surely she doesn’t need you to visit her again right now,” he
said, narrowing his eyes at his roommate. Remus swallowed nervously, his cheeks flushing under
Sirius’ piercing gaze.

“Sirius!” James hissed reproachfully, turning to him and letting his hand fall from Remus’
shoulder. “Don’t be an arse.”

They shared a long look that Remus couldn’t fully see, as James was facing away from him, before
Sirius ducked his head and mumbled a quick apology, which Remus accepted. Still, he felt Sirius’
eyes on him as he climbed under his covers that night, and he couldn’t help but flush again before
drawing the hangings shut around him, blocking himself from the other boy’s view.

....

The evening after the full moon, Remus returned to the dormitory, responding to his friends’
inquiries about his mother’s health with short, non-specific answers and vague shrugs, as he always
did. He caught Sirius looking at him through narrowed eyes again before he quickly turned away.

The following morning, when Remus sat down in Defense Against the Dark Arts and reached into
his bag to get his books, he winced, his shoulder protesting. he'd dislocated it during the
transformation, and though Madam Pomfrey had set it back into place and healed it, it still ached a
bit. To his surprise, he saw another pair of hands reach into his book bag and grab his textbook,
notebook, and quill, placing them on his desk for him. He looked up to see Sirius, who gave him a
slight smile.

“What’d you do to your shoulder?” Sirius asked, his voice mild, but his gaze pierced Remus, just as
they had when he'd asked him why he had to go home. Remus flushed involuntarily, cursing
himself for this traitorous reflex as he hastened to find another excuse.

“Nothing much,” he replied. “I think I just slept on it wrong last night.”

Sirius gave him a look that made it clear that he didn’t believe him, but didn’t respond, only took
out his own books and turned to the front of the class, to where Professor Fawley began his lecture
on the Disarming Charm. Remus wasn't fully able to pay attention during the class due to his
nagging worry about the suspicious looks Sirius kept giving him. He concluded that he’d just have
to step up his lying game from then on.

This resolution proved hard to keep, however, as, throughout the following months, Sirius’ prying
questions and narrowed-eye glances became all the more frequent. Remus didn’t know what had
triggered his roommate’s sudden interest in Remus’ excuses surrounding the full moon, nor how to
stop it, as nothing he said ever seemed to satisfy Sirius, only made him more suspicious. Not only
did Sirius question him about his excuses for leaving at each full moon—Remus had resolved to
say he was ill from then on, instead of visiting home, but this didn’t seem to dampen Sirius’
curiosity in the slightest—he commented on Remus’ soreness, tiredness, and injuries, which
Remus always had after each full moon. With each question Sirius asked, or piercing look the other
boy gave him, Remus’ anxiety increased. He worried, too, that it wasn’t only Sirius who was
suspicious about his excuses, and that James and Peter were just too polite to ask their own prying
questions, as Sirius did.

Remus was panicking—he had no idea what to do. He didn’t want to write home to his parents
with his concerns, as he knew that his father would want to immediately remove him from
Hogwarts, and Remus hated the thought. However, if the boys in his dormitory found out, he knew
that he may not have a choice. They might tell the whole school, and Professor Dumbledore might
then be forced by the Ministry and pressure from concerned parents to expel him. At night, Remus
would lie awake thinking about this possibility, making the dark circles under his eyes a permanent
feature, rather than appearing just around the full moon. Remus was haunted by worry, and,
recklessly, he wished that his roommates would just confront him with their suspicions already, as
the suspense was torturing him.

In late November, his reckless wish came true. Remus returned to the dorm late one night, having
been in the library, which he'd begun to spend more and more time in over the course of the last
two months as he tried to avoid his roommates. However, instead of coming back to find them
asleep, as he usually did, Remus opened the door to find them all waiting up for him, sitting on
their respective beds and talking in low voices. As he appeared, they fell silent and stared at him.
Remus tried to act casual, setting his books down on his bedside table, but his heart was beating
like a drum in his chest, and his throat constricted painfully as he avoided their gazes.

“Hey,” James greeted him, giving him a small, awkward wave.

“Hi,” Remus responded, hoping that his voice sounded normal. At least it didn’t come out in a
squeak.

“You haven’t been around much over the last couple of weeks,” James said, looking at Remus with
concern in his hazel eyes as Remus pretended to search for something in his book bag.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been busy studying, I suppose,” Remus said, not looking up at them. He heard,
but did not see, Sirius stand up from where he was sitting on his bed and braced himself for
whatever Sirius was about to do.

“Cut the shit, Remus,” Sirius said, frustration evident in his voice. Sirius had been the first of them
to start swearing, another thing Remus thought he’d probably started doing to piss off his parents,
and he still did it the most out of any of them. Remus felt a strange satisfaction sometimes to hear
it, as though Sirius saying the expletives that Remus was thinking was almost as good as having
the courage to say them himself. Remus abandoned his pretense of looking for something in his
bag and stood up, facing Sirius warily, as the other boy continued. “We know you know that we
know.”

If it hadn’t been such a dire circumstance, Remus might have laughed at the wording of the
statement. As it was, however, his heart began to thump harder in his chest, and he tried to swallow
the growing lump in his throat. There was something else, too, rising up in him: anger. They were
really going to do this now? Why couldn’t Sirius just keep it to himself?

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” Remus said, his voice flat, still refusing to look at
Sirius dead on even as he faced him, his eyes trained on a spot just above his head. James stood,
too, his gaze much gentler than Sirius’, looking imploringly at Remus.

“Remus, you don’t have to lie,” he said. “We all know that Sirius hasn’t been exactly subtle in his
prying over these last few months. You’re smart enough to know exactly what we’re talking
about.”

Remus finally lowered his gaze to meet Sirius’, their eyes locking for the first time in weeks, and
his jaw clenched at the look on Sirius’ face—the slight tilt to his head, the almost curious
expression as he examined Remus. There was frustration there, too, as if he was impatient with
Remus’ evasion tactics. Remus held the eye contact for a moment, before turning his gaze to look
at both James and Peter in turn, the latter of whom was sitting on his bed, looking a little wary of
the whole conversation, though slightly curious as well.

And what was he supposed to say? Of course Remus knew what they were talking about. He’d
known for weeks that this was inevitable, but now that it was happening, it felt like something that
had been closing in on him for the past year had finally caught up to him. He wasn’t ready, but it
wasn’t his choice, in the end.

He looked back at James, panic turning to desperation as he stared at him. “What do you want me
to say? You need me to say it out loud, do you? What can that possibly do for you?” There was an
edge of anger in his voice, too, the last defense of a wounded and cornered animal against its
attackers.

James looked back at him, his gaze sad, brows furrowed. “Remus, we’re not trying to make you do
anything. It’s just...we’re your friends. We want you to talk to us.”

Remus looked back at Sirius, whose grey eyes had softened slightly, the earlier frustration in them
dying in the face of Remus’ obvious panic. Their eyes locked, and Remus knew that Sirius
understood him. He understood that Remus needed someone to say it out loud, so it wouldn’t be
hanging in the silence between them anymore, and knew that Remus couldn’t be the one to do it.
Therefore, Sirius did it for him.

“We know you’re a werewolf,” Sirius said, and the words seemed to echo in Remus’ brain over
and over again in the moment of silence after they were spoken. “I’ve suspected since the end of
last term, but by the start of this year, I was sure of it. I did some research, and I told James and
Pete what I suspected.”

There was a ringing silence after Sirius’ words, which felt deafening and overwhelming to Remus.
He felt small, looking at them as they stood there, staring back at him. Finally, he choked out a
single word, trying to channel his earlier anger and defensiveness into it, rather than the fear he
knew was written all over his face. “And?”

“What do you mean?” James said, his brows furrowing at Remus in confusion. “And what?”

“What are you going to do?” Remus asked, the resistance falling as his voice grew higher with
fear. “Are you going to tell people? Get me kicked out?”

A moment of shocked silence followed his question, then all three of them started to talk, stopped,
and interrupted each other. Finally, James spoke above the others. “Merlin, Remus, no! Why in the
world would we do that?”

“Because I’m a monster,” Remus muttered, looking down at the floor rather than up at them. “I
wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to talk to me again, let alone live in the same room as me.”

Another shocked silence followed, and this time, Sirius broke it.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Remus,” he said, and there was a snap in his voice, his earlier frustration
clearly rearing its head again. Remus looked up at him and saw that Sirius was fixing him with a
very strange, almost pained look. He continued in haste before Remus could interrupt him.

“You’re about the least monstrous person I know. You’re compulsively early to every class, your
essays are always longer than they ought to be, you wear sweaters year-round, and you refuse to
rise to bait from the Slytherins, even if they deserve a good hex for what they say sometimes. Sure,
you once threatened to gouge my eyes out with a spoon if I ever set an alarm clock on the weekend
again, but I couldn’t even take you seriously with the way your hair looked that morning. You
really think I’m scared of you, Lupin?”

“You’re our best friend,” Peter chimed in. “If you left, I’d have to deal with these two alone.
They’d probably get themselves killed on the first day.”

James and Sirius, who might have looked offended about this statement under normal
circumstances, only nodded vigorously at Remus in confirmation.

“So,” Remus said, feeling quite like his world had been turned upside down, as this wasn't at all the
reaction that he'd expected. “Let me get this straight: you don’t care at all that once a month, I turn
into a vicious wolf that would try and kill every single one of you if you came across me?”

“Oh, now you’re just being dramatic,” Sirius said, sighing out a huff of exasperation as his posture
slumped and rolling his eyes. “Hate to break it to you, Remus, but even if you transformed into a
bloody Hungarian Horntail once a month, I would still have trouble being scared of you. You’re
Remus.”

“Dramatic!” Remus exclaimed, pacing and staring at Sirius in horror. “You’re being ridiculous!
I’m quite literally a dangerous dark creature, and you’re treating the whole thing like it’s a joke!”

“Of course we know it’s not a joke, Remus,” James said softly, his gaze cautious as he regarded his
friend. “But I for one refuse to hate you for something you can’t control, even if that’s how you
feel about yourself.”

Remus sagged at the words, feeling as if they drained something inside of him, tearing back all the
anger and adrenaline and leaving him with nothing but exhaustion and terrible sadness. He stopped
mid-pace and moved to sit down on the edge of his bed, burying his face in his hands. Against his
will, he felt hot tears begin to well up between his fingers. Someone else sank onto the mattress
beside him, and Remus felt a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him into the other boy’s
shoulder. He knew that it was Sirius because his long hair was tickling the back of Remus’ neck as
his arms wrapped around Remus, and though Remus tensed at first at the contact, he melted
quickly. His hands dropped from his face to wrap around Sirius in return, and he let his tears fall
into the fabric of the other boy’s shirt, clenching his jaw to keep the small sobs from being too
audible as he did so, hating himself a little for needing the comfort all the while.
After a long moment, he pulled away from Sirius and looked back up to see James standing in front
of them, looking helpless, and Peter hovering a little bit behind him. Remus wiped his eyes,
sniffing slightly.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice still thick with tears. “It’s just, I’ve been terrified at the prospect of
anyone finding out about what I am ever since I was bitten. My parents told me that I had to hide it
at all costs. For the last two months, I’ve known that you all must be figuring it out, and it’s like
I’ve been standing at the edge of a cliff...I was terrified that I would be expelled, or that my father
would force me to come home even if I wasn’t. I never imagined this.”

“I’m sorry,” Sirius said, looking suddenly very guilty as Remus turned to look at him. “I shouldn’t
have been so nosy and obvious about it.”

“S’alright,” Remus said, shrugging, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his sweater, and ducking his
head so he wouldn’t have to look at them. All the earlier anger had melted away when he realized
that he wasn’t in danger from his roommates after all, and now he was too tired to feel anything but
relief. A long pause followed, during which Remus could tell that James, Sirius, and Peter were
exchanging glances, silently communicating between themselves. It was James who finally voiced
the question that was on all of their minds.

“Remus, can I ask...when did you become a werewolf?” He looked a bit frightened as Remus
looked up at him, so he backtracked hastily. “I mean, you don’t have to tell us anything if you
don’t want to, I just wondered…” He trailed off, looking sheepish.

Remus paused for a long moment, collecting himself and thinking about James’ question. Remus
had never told anyone his secret before, so he'd never relayed this story before, either. For the first
time in his life, Remus realized that he wanted to tell it. he'd been breaking under the weight of the
secrets he carried with him for too many years. He thought fleetingly of his father, and his reaction
to Remus telling them any of this, but pushed it away. His father wasn’t there.

“I was four years old,” Remus said, directing his gaze to the floor so that he wouldn’t have to see
their reactions to his words. He didn’t think he could deal with their pity or their shock. “Almost
five, really. A werewolf broke through my window when I was sleeping one night and bit me. My
father fought it off before it could kill me, and brought me to St. Mungo’s.”

“You were only four, and you survived?” James said, his voice coming out in a shocked whisper.
Remus nodded at the carpet.

“I’m not sure why, though it must have been partly due to how fast my dad got me to St. Mungo’s
to be treated. If he hadn’t, I would’ve died.” Remus’ voice was flat, concealing the emotion
beneath it. “It was lucky they treated me, too. Another Healer—not one of the ones who saved my
life—told my father afterward that it would have probably been kinder to let me die than to have
me live like this.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Sirius said, his voice rough in his anger. “You’re still a human being, and you
were a child at the time! How could they even suggest that they let you die?”

Remus shrugged. “It’s how a lot of people feel about my kind,” he said, then paused, choosing his
next words carefully. “Sometimes a part of me does wish I’d died, especially during my
transformations.”

“Are they really painful?” Peter squeaked out, sounding terrified on Remus’ behalf.

“Well, I break every bone in my body when I turn into a wolf,” Remus said wryly, looking up at
him. “So yes, they’re quite agonizing. I almost died during some of my early transformations, as
well, being so young.”

Sirius grimaced in sympathy, and James and Peter both looked shocked. After a pause, James
blurted out, “I’m glad you didn’t die, Remus. I’m glad you’re here with us.”

“Thank you, James,” Remus said, a tired smile coming across his lips.

“So...where do you transform? How do you keep safe?” Sirius asked next, eager curiosity in his
expression, his eyes trained on Remus.

“When I’m home, I transform in a locked cellar near our house,” Remus said, looking down at his
hands. “Here at Hogwarts, Madam Pomfrey brings me to the Shrieking Shack to transform every
full moon, and then I stay in the Hospital Wing to recover afterward.”

“The Shrieking Shack?” James echoed, sounding confused. “Why there?”

“It was built for me,” explained Remus, looking around at them. “There’s a secret passageway
from under the Whomping Willow that leads to the house. The tree was planted at the entrance of
it to keep anyone from going down there, but there’s a knot on the trunk that freezes the tree, so I
can go down there to transform away from anyone I can hurt. When the tree’s moving, it keeps me
from getting back out again.”

“But isn’t that house supposed to be haunted?” Peter asked, sounding nervous. Remus smiled again
wryly.

“Haunted by me, I suppose,” he said, letting out a sarcastic laugh. “The sounds that come from the
house are the sounds of my transformation. Professor Dumbledore just encouraged the rumor that it
was haunted as a cover.” He sobered slightly, then continued. “It’s the only way that I can attend
Hogwarts, with all these arrangements. Even then, it’s a risk, and I owe a lot to Dumbledore. No
previous Headmaster would have ever let me come here at all.”

“Well, it would have been downright stupid of them to keep you from coming,” James stated
firmly. “You’re one of the smartest, most hard-working students in our year. You deserve to be
here just as much as any of us, if not more.”

“Yeah, well, I figure as long as I’m here I shouldn’t waste it,” Remus said, shrugging.

“This means you can’t disappear on us anymore, then,” Sirius exclaimed, raising his eyebrows
pointedly at Remus from beside him on the bed, though his gaze was still rather soft. “We all care
about you. And you’re not allowed to call yourself a monster anymore, either!”

“Fine,” Remus agreed, a smile breaking onto his face rather reluctantly, as he looked around at
them. “I suppose it will be nice to not have to lie to you all anymore.”

“You were a pretty terrible liar, anyway,” James pointed out, a grin spreading across his face.
Remus rolled his eyes but smiled as James walked over and pulled him up into a tight hug, his care
and concern evident in the gesture. Peter hugged him, too, and so did Sirius, for the second time
that evening.

As he went to sleep that night, Remus felt at peace for the first time in months. He still couldn’t
quite believe what’d just happened, and considered pinching himself to make sure it wasn’t all a
dream. Remus knew he couldn’t tell his father that his friends knew his secret, it would cause him
too much anxiety—and besides, Remus didn’t want to deal with the repercussions—but it hardly
mattered anymore. Now, his parents were not the only people in the world who knew that he was a
werewolf, which meant he could finally trust his friends with the whole of him, as he'd never been
able to before. It was an extremely freeing feeling.

Remus continued to be surprised, over the course of the following weeks, at how well the rest of
the boys handled knowing and keeping his secret. Within two weeks of learning about Remus’
lycanthropy, James started referring to it as his “furry little problem,” while Sirius less eloquently
called it “that time of the month,” which made the rest of them roar with laughter, and lightened
Remus’ mood considerably around the next full moon.

Only a week after that, Sirius came up with an idea that would do a great deal more than just raise
his spirits. It was a day that Remus had successfully dragged a very reluctant James and a resigned
Peter into the library to write their Charms essay, but it was only thirty minutes in that Sirius
interrupted. He hurried over to where they were sitting in a sheltered alcove away from others,
carrying a stack of books and looking excited.

“Where’ve you been? Are you actually joining us to study?” James asked in disbelief, looking
down at the books that Sirius dropped on the table haphazardly before sliding into a seat in front of
them. Sirius waved his questions away impatiently, shaking his head.

“I’m not here to study. Not Charms, anyway,” he said, holding up his hand to silence Remus before
he could turn his glare into scolding words, and leaning forward with a grin spreading across his
face. “I think we should become Animagi.”

Not waiting for Peter’s spluttering or Remus’ protests, Sirius began to explain his idea, and the
theory that they’d then be able to keep Remus company during his transformations, while Remus
listened with disbelief and awe. When Sirius had finished giving his speech, there was a moment of
silence, where they all took it in. Remus stared at Sirius, not sure quite what to say, as James and
Peter both looked thoughtful, clearly mulling over the idea in their heads. Finally, it was James
who broke the silence.

“Well, Remus? What do you think?” he asked, turning to look at him, hazel eyes twinkling with the
light that Remus usually associated with planning pranks. It took a moment for Remus to collect
himself enough to speak, but eventually, he choked out a few words.

“I—yeah,” he said, nodding his head vigorously as he reached up to wipe at his eyes, trying to keep
the tears of gratitude in them from falling. “That sounds…amazing.”

Sirius beamed at him from across the table, and Remus just watched as the three other boys began
to pour over the books on Animagi. He felt overwhelmed, unsure whether this was the right thing
to do, or whether he should have told them it was all alright and not to worry about him. A year
ago, Remus would have believed it was a miracle that they’d even still be here, sitting beside him,
after discovering his secret. He’d never imagined this. Remus knew what his father would say; he
knew that it was reckless. Still, just then, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Perhaps Remus
deserved to be reckless now and again, too.
 1972: A Black Family Christmas
Chapter Notes

cw: abuse, graphic depictions of violence

Sirius hated the way the winter holidays crept up on him every year. It was very unfair, he thought,
for Hogwarts to lull him into a false sense of security for three months, only to throw him right
back into the snake pit that he’d escaped from.

“You know,” James said, on the train ride home, giving Sirius a hopeful look. “You could still
come home with me. Give your house-elf the slip. You could write them that you got ill right
before the train left and had to stay at Hogwarts.”

Sirius laughed bitterly and shook his head. “My parents wouldn’t care if I was ill,” he said. “I’m
expected to be there for Christmas because the rest of the family is coming over, and if I’m not…”
He trailed off darkly, looking out the window.

After a moment, he felt the prickle of eyes on him and looked back to find that all three of his
roommates were staring at him, apprehension evident in their gazes. He gave them a smile that
didn’t reach his eyes, but which he hoped was convincing enough to stop them worrying,
nonetheless.

“If I’m not, they won’t be happy, that’s all,” he finished. James and Peter looked relieved, but
Remus was still looking at him with worry in his gaze, clearly unconvinced.

“It’s only two weeks,” Sirius said, addressing Remus primarily this time, trying to reassure him
with another grin. “Then we’ll all be back.”

But, as Sirius descended from the train at platform nine and three-quarters and bade his friends
goodbye, he reflected on how long two weeks could truly be.

....

On Christmas Day, Sirius slept in late, ignoring Kreacher’s summons to breakfast. It wasn't as if
his family did anything special on Christmas morning, as the Black family did not celebrate
Christmas in the way that Sirius learned was custom for many of his classmates. Unlike those of
his roommates, Sirius’ Christmases growing up did not include presents, a Christmas tree, or
anything else that could be considered “merriment.”

This year, however, like the last, Sirius did find presents at the foot of his bed when he finally
woke, and he set about unwrapping the gifts given to him by his friends. He especially enjoyed the
box of tiny, portable fireworks James had given him, and amused himself for a while by setting
them off in his bedroom, allowing them to sparkle in midair and ricochet off the walls, leaving
small burn marks behind.

Neither his parents nor their miserable house-elf, Kreacher, came to tell Sirius to knock it off,
despite the loud sounds each firework made as it exploded. Perhaps his parents were out, or just
couldn't be bothered. Kreacher, on the other hand, probably relished the idea of Sirius being
punished later for the burn marks on his walls and ceiling too much to put a stop to it.

Regulus, however, did come to see what the noise was all about. A soft knock sounded on Sirius’
door around midday, and when Regulus opened it, he had to duck to avoid a firework that flew
right past his nose, nearly missing him. Sirius swore, and directed his wand at the firework, casting
the counter-spell that the box had said would make it fizzle out and fall to the floor.

“Using magic?” Regulus asked, raising his eyebrows in what Sirius knew was a mixture of
admiration and admonishment. Sirius shrugged, and threw his wand back down on his bedside
table, leaning back on his pillows.

“It’s not like mother and father care,” he said. “And the Ministry can’t tell, not in our house. I’m
not setting the place on fire, am I?”

“Looks like you’re trying,” Regulus commented, glancing around at the walls. Sirius rolled his
eyes but didn’t respond. Regulus crossed the room and sat down on the bed next to Sirius, giving
him a small smile, which Sirius returned after a moment.

“Happy Christmas,” he said.

“Happy Christmas, Reg,” Sirius replied, reaching up to ruffle his brother’s hair, causing Regulus to
duck away, looking a little perplexed. “Oh, I got you something!” Sirius had almost forgotten
about the gift before then, and now stood up from the bed, walking over to his rucksack and
rummaging around in it.

“What do you mean, you got me something?” Regulus asked.

“Well, most people give gifts for Christmas,” Sirius explained, his back still to Regulus. Sirius,
himself, hadn't known that wizards upheld this tradition before his first year at Hogwarts, though
he’d read about it in Muggle books. Therefore, he'd been very embarrassed in first year when he'd
discovered that his friends had all given him gifts, and he'd gotten them nothing in return.

This year, however, Sirius had planned far in advance, as he knew that the summer was his only
opportunity to get them each something. Sirius had no access to his parents’ money, and they
wouldn’t have allowed him to buy presents for his half-blood and blood traitor friends anyway,
therefore the only way for him to acquire gifts for each was to nick them from stores in Muggle
London. Regulus’ gift, however, had been stolen from inside Hogwarts itself.

Sirius finally found it, and, abandoning the mess on his floor he'd made in emptying his bag, he
walked back over to Regulus, placing it in his brother’s small hand. Regulus turned the little,
golden ball Sirius had handed him over in his hand, and a grin split across his face.

“A Snitch?” he inquired, smiling down at it. “Where did you get it?”

“My friend, Marlene, is the Seeker on the Gryffindor house team,” Sirius said, smiling at his
brother’s pleased expression. “She caught it at the last game, and I asked her if I could have it for
you.”

“That’s brilliant,” Regulus said, grinning widely, his young face filled with enthusiasm as he
looked up at his older brother. “Thanks, Sirius.”

“Of course,” Sirius responded.

“I don’t have anything for you, though,” Regulus said, his face falling suddenly. Sirius smiled,
putting a hand on Regulus’ small shoulder.
“It doesn’t matter,” he reassured his brother. “I didn’t expect you to. I just wanted you to have this,
anyway.”

Regulus still looked a little hesitant, as if he didn’t trust Sirius’ assertion that it was alright, but
finally smiled back at him after a moment, turning back to examine the Snitch. Sirius knew that
while he’d worried that it was a strange, pointless sort of gift, to his brother it was an unexpected
treasure. In a way it was sad, but the things that Sirius valued most were stolen, too.

That evening, Sirius finally descended the staircase from his room, dressed in his stiff, high-
collared black dress robes that he hated, and joined his family in the dining room for Christmas
dinner. Usually, Christmas dinner meant all of his uncles, aunts, and cousins sitting around the
long dining room table, but this year, his Aunt Lucretia and her husband, Ignatius Prewett, were
away on holiday, and his Uncle Alphard had politely declined the invitation, for one reason or
another. Therefore, it was just his Uncle Cygnus’ family that joined them that evening.

Sirius was relieved at the sight of Andromeda in the entrance hall, so much so that he even risked
giving her a little smile behind his parents’ backs. She returned it briefly, but Sirius noticed that she
looked pale, and the smile slid off her face quickly. He hadn’t seen her since the summer, but the
last time they’d spoken in person was the end of the previous term, when she’d hugged him
goodbye on the platform, a big, goofy grin spread across her face. That was a far cry from how she
looked now, dark hair pulled away from her bloodless face in a tight bun, her expression a blank
mask.

Sirius watched her for a while longer, and before they sat down for dinner, Andromeda moved
closer to him as she brushed past, slipping her hand into his and giving it a brief, friendly squeeze.
When he looked up to meet her gaze for a split second, he saw that her grey eyes were filled with
the same dread he felt at the prospect of the dinner. He returned the pressure gratefully before she
pulled away.

The conversation was stiff and formal, as it always was. Sirius did not speak, and, for the most
part, neither did the rest of his cousins. Though Bellatrix was twenty, and Andromeda eighteen, at
this table, they were still considered children, and therefore weren’t to speak unless spoken to by
the adults. Bellatrix, however, had always been a favorite of his mother’s, and was invited to join
the conversation much more than the rest of them. Sirius tuned out the conversation for the most
part, as he knew that if he concentrated on what the adults were discussing, he'd become angered
too quickly. Instead, he focused on eating his food and tried not to listen to what was being said.

Narcissa sat across from him at the table, and once in a while, Sirius would look up and catch her
eye. Each time this happened, Narcissa would give him a look like he was a bit of dirt under her
nose, a look he'd return with interest. Narcissa was Sirius’ only cousin still attending Hogwarts, in
her sixth year. They never spoke when they passed each other in the corridors, however, as the
cousins were not friends.

Narcissa’s cold, blue eyes across the table made Sirius recall the moment when she’d glared at him
from the Slytherin table, that first night at Hogwarts when he’d walked towards the Gryffindors
after being sorted. Her eyes had bored into his then, unforgiving, until he’d looked away from her.
Later that night, Sirius had laid awake, looking up at the top of his four-poster bed and imagining
his parents’ reaction to the news. When he rose the next morning, Sirius had been unsurprised to
receive a furious letter in his mother’s hand, as he’d known that Narcissa would have been all too
happy to inform on him. Sirius knew, too, that Narcissa had been keeping Walburga informed
about all of Sirius’ actions at Hogwarts since that first day, and he detested her for it.

He guessed, however, that Narcissa had never told either her parents or his that her older sister,
Andromeda, had continued to be on friendly terms with him in his first year at Hogwarts.
Andromeda, unlike Narcissa, had made every effort to reach out to Sirius that year, and Sirius, in
turn, had taken advantage of the opportunity to really get to know his older cousin for the first
time. Away from the prying eyes and ears of their parents, Andromeda had told Sirius about her
childhood antics, her quiet rebellion, and, even more importantly, her knowledge of the ways in
which generations of Black family members had stood up to their family.

“Rebellion is just another part of our inheritance,” Andromeda had said to Sirius once, while he
looked up at her admiringly, a new surge of bravery coursing through him.

Sirius hadn’t really been able to speak to Andromeda much since she'd graduated, though she'd sent
him a brief letter during the first month of his second year, asking how he was. Sirius wasn’t sure
if he'd imagined the tense, worried tone of her words on the paper. Glancing over to where she was
sitting, he saw that she was playing with her food, looking slightly nauseous.

Sirius was finally broken out of thoughts of his cousins when the conversation turned to a subject
that he couldn’t quite tune out.

“The wedding will take place next summer,” Cygnus was telling Walburga. Sirius realized, with a
turn of his stomach, that they were discussing Bellatrix’s upcoming nuptials to Rodolphus
Lestrange, which Sirius would no doubt have to attend. Cygnus took a sip of wine and continued.
“They’ve been betrothed for quite a few years, after all. No purpose in waiting any longer.”

If Sirius thought he'd been nauseous before, it was nothing to the reaction Walburga’s next words
had on him. “Of course, Orion and I should think about who Sirius will marry soon.”

“Excuse me? I’m marrying someone, now?” Sirius demanded, his voice cracking from disuse. His
mother shot him a glare for his unauthorized words.

“Yes, you will, someday. Though what self-respecting pureblood family will let you marry one of
their daughters now is another matter.” Walburga said, throwing him a disgusted look. Before
Sirius could retort, Cygnus spoke, as if Sirius hadn't said anything.

“You have plenty of time to find a suitable match, Walburga. Druella and I haven’t decided on
Andromeda’s husband as of yet, though we will have to do that soon.”

Sirius looked over to Andromeda imploringly, hoping she'd speak up to defend herself as he had.
He didn’t want to be alone in his indignation. To his surprise, Andromeda’s nervous expression
from before had fallen away completely. Her teeth were gritted, her whole body was tense, and her
eyes glared down at the table as if she was steeling herself for something. When she spoke, her
voice was loud, quite unlike the deferential tones she usually used around their parents.

“That won’t be necessary,” she said, raising her head high to look at her father.

It seemed to take a few moments for the adults to take in what she’d said, Cygnus and Druella
exchanging a glance before Cygnus turned to his daughter.

“And what is that supposed to mean, Andromeda?” His voice was soft and careful but nevertheless
contained a certain stiffness, as if he was trying to contain his anger. Andromeda looked straight
into her father’s eyes, her stare unflinching, and Sirius couldn’t help the rush of admiration that
went through him at her bravery.

“It means that I’m an adult, and I can make my own decisions in regard to whom I marry.”

“Andy,” Narcissa hissed softly, looking up at her older sister with an expression of surprise and
fear on her face, her ice-blue eyes imploring her to be silent. A cruel look had come onto Cygnus
Black’s face, and he sneered at his middle daughter across the table.

“You are not an independent adult until you are married to whatever man I choose, Andromeda
Black, and then your actions will be dictated by your husband’s family customs, as well as our
own.”

Andromeda held his furious gaze steadily. “I am an independent adult already, father, and I have
already chosen the man I want to marry for myself.”

Any remaining movement of the people around the table ceased in that moment, as everyone
seemed to freeze, all eyes fixed on Andromeda. Cygnus stared at her for a moment in apparent
shock, then a look of cold, cruel rage came across his face, the kind of quiet anger that Sirius was
used to seeing on his mother’s face just before a blow.

“And who would that be?” he demanded, his voice still low, but his eyes trained almost hungrily
on Andromeda, who, by some miracle, still had her chin raised defiantly as she gazed back at him.

“His name is Ted Tonks.”

“And what is his blood status?” Cygnus asked, his voice even lower and more dangerous than
ever. Druella’s gaze was flitting between her husband to her daughter, her eyes wide with horror.

“He’s Muggle-born,” Andromeda replied calmly. Druella let out a small squeak of horror, clapping
her hands over her mouth. Cygnus’ eyes bulged, but before he could do anything but clench his
hand around the glass he was holding, Bellatrix leapt to her feet and strode over to Andromeda,
pulling her up from her chair with a tight grip on her sister’s arm.

“How dare you dishonor our family?” Bellatrix growled, shaking her sister slightly, practically
frothing at the mouth with rage. “How long has this—this disgusting dalliance been going on?”

Andromeda wrenched her arm out of her sister’s grasp, staring her down angrily. The two sisters
were practically the same height, and Andromeda refused to be intimidated by Bellatrix. Sirius
marveled at how similar they looked, yet the crazed look on Bellatrix’s face was one that Sirius
knew would never mar Andromeda’s kinder features. Sirius stood, too, his chair legs scraping back
on the carpet, wondering whether he should intervene on his cousin’s behalf.

“We’ve been dating since my sixth year,” Andromeda spat back, her anger, long held at bay, now
loosed on her elder sister. “Now we’re engaged, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”

Cygnus made a soft, threatening noise in his throat as he gazed furiously at his middle daughter.
Druella uncovered her face, looking imploringly at Andromeda.

“It’s not too late to end this dreadful mistake, Andromeda. You can still come back to our family.
Leave this Mudblood behind!”

Andromeda gazed down at her mother, hurt showing in her eyes now. She paused before
answering, and when she did, her words were slow, deliberate, and full of finality.

“Yes, it is,” she said, looking directly at her mother. “I love him, and I’m pregnant with our child.”

The silence after her words was broken, literally, with the sound of glass shattering as Cygnus
finally rose to his feet and threw his crystal goblet across the room, where it shattered on the wall
behind Sirius’ and Regulus’ chairs, Regulus flinching from the sound, though Sirius stood stock
still. Andromeda flinched for the first time, too, turning her gaze to her father in shock.
“HOW DARE YOU DISHONOR ME LIKE THIS?!” Cygnus Black roared across the table at his
daughter as his wife began to cry into her napkin. Walburga stood, too, and put her hand on her
brother’s shoulder, guiding him back down into his seat. Bellatrix turned to her sister again, fury in
her gaze. She looked rather unhinged, her dark hair almost crackling with anger.

“You blood traitor slut! You spit on the name of Black!” she shrieked. With that, Sirius saw
Andromeda’s expression break, and she finally exploded.

“I don’t care, Bellatrix!” she screamed back at her sister, throwing up her hands in exasperation
and fury. “Call me whatever names you like, I don’t care! I love Ted and I’m going to marry him,
the name of Black be damned! I hate everything this family stands for, and I’ve never had the
courage to say so before, but it doesn’t matter what I say now, does it? I hate it all! I will love
whomever I choose to love. Blood status never meant a damn thing to me anyway!”

Bellatrix snarled in fury and drew her wand from her robes in a flourish. Shock crossed
Andromeda’s features, and she took several steps back from her sister, looking from Bellatrix’s
wand to her livid face.

“You wouldn’t…” She trailed off, her eyes fearful. Bellatrix let out an insane laugh.

“Wouldn’t what, Andromeda? You think I care about either you or the half-blood scum you’re
carrying?” she asked derisively.

Andromeda looked terrified for the first time that evening, much more scared of Bellatrix’s
insanity than their father’s earlier rage. Sirius was frozen in place, wanting to shield Andromeda
from Bellatrix’s curse but not sure if he'd get there in time, especially given that his feet didn’t
seem to want to move.

The next few seconds seemed to happen in slow motion. As Bellatrix raised her wand, a curse
forming on her lips, Narcissa leapt up from her chair and darted in front of Andromeda, her arms
outstretched behind her to protect her middle sister’s rigid form. Bellatrix stared at her youngest
sister, rage on her face.

“How dare you, Cissy? How dare you protect this blood traitor and her half-blood child? Step away
before I curse you, too!”

“Bella, she’s our sister,” Narcissa choked out, her voice shaking as she stood there. Sirius had
never seen his cousin’s rigid façade fall before, had never seen her show even an inch of
compassion, but clearly she still cared enough to risk herself for Andromeda, no matter what she'd
done. Andromeda stood behind her, frozen, her eyes wide in what Sirius thought must be the
residual shock that her older sister would go so far as to curse her.

“She stopped being my blood as soon as she told me that she was marrying Mudblooded scum!”
Bellatrix screeched, beside herself with rage. Narcissa’s expression faltered, and Sirius knew she
was only seconds from moving away from Andromeda, exposing her to Bellatrix’s curses.

“Run, Andy,” Sirius said, his voice sounding hoarse and rather unlike his own.

Andromeda turned her head to look at him, they locked eyes for a split second of understanding,
and then she turned and ran across the room towards the door, just disappearing down the corridor
to the front door as Bellatrix screamed “Crucio!”, pointing her wand towards Andromeda’s fleeing
form and hitting the wall instead. Sirius heard Andromeda’s running steps retreat down the
corridor, and even as Bellatrix strode to the doorway to take aim again, the front door swung open
and slammed shut, and Andromeda was gone.
Bellatrix turned to Sirius next, walking around the table to him, grabbing the collar of his shirt, and
shaking him roughly. “Of course the other blood traitor of the family helps my worthless sister.
Tell me, why haven’t we thrown you out yet, little Gryffindor?” she taunted him, towering over his
thirteen-year-old frame.

“Like I was going to stand here and let you torture her,” Sirius growled at her, hoping that he
sounded braver than he felt.

Bellatrix spat on his face then released him, moving away only enough so that she could deliver a
sharp backhanded blow on his cheek moments later with almost enough force to send him to his
knees, though he managed to stay standing. Sirius glanced up to see her move away and
immediately met Regulus’ scared eyes from his place at the table. Sirius looked away quickly,
trying to push away the bile gathering in his throat as he thought of the look of fear in Andromeda’s
eyes, so like Regulus’, just before she ran from the house.

Bellatrix strode over to Narcissa, anger still evident on her face. “And you! How could you protect
her? Have you forgotten what comes with the name of Black?”

“I’m sorry,” Narcissa said, her eyes on the floor between her and her oldest sister. “I haven’t
forgotten.”

“I hope not,” Bellatrix spat at her, beginning to pace around the room again. Cygnus Black rose to
his feet once again heavily, his expression set like stone, though anger still flickered in his eyes.

“Andromeda is no longer a part of our family, that much has been made clear,” he said, beckoning
to his wife, Narcissa, and Bellatrix. “Excuse us, Walburga, Orion; we had better go home and deal
with this betrayal within our household.”

“Of course, Cygnus,” Walburga said, bowing her head, “You shouldn’t feel responsible for
Andromeda’s betrayal, however. Some children are simply born rotten, after all.”

She threw a disgusted look towards Sirius as she spoke, and he reached up belatedly to wipe away
Bellatrix’s spit from his face with his shirtsleeve. Cygnus nodded gravely, and the family made
their way toward the doorway together. After a moment, Sirius heard the front door open and close,
just as it had minutes earlier as Andromeda fled, never to return.

As the front door swung shut, Walburga turned towards Sirius, her features suddenly contorted
with fury. “How dare you interfere in my brother’s family business!” she screeched, sounding just
like Bellatrix as she advanced toward him, her eyes dangerous. Sirius glared back at her, standing
his ground.

“Well, they were having a family argument in the middle of our dinner party, so I would say I was
already involved,” Sirius pointed out, knowing full well that his sarcasm would cost him dearly.

Sure enough, Walburga raised her wand, and Sirius had only a split second to brace himself before
he was hit with the first Cruciatus Curse of his life. It was pain like he'd never experienced before,
and Sirius considered himself rather well versed in pain, having been struck by his mother and
belted by his father as far back as he could remember. This was like nothing he could have ever
imagined up to this point, however. It was as if every nerve in his body was on fire, a fire that was
burning up his insides.

Sirius knew he was screaming, but the sound felt detached from him, too. He wasn’t sure how long
it lasted, it could have been seconds or minutes, and he couldn’t hear the words that his mother was
screaming at him all the while, either, through the pain. He fell to the floor, and, when the curse
was finally removed, he stayed there, his muscles leaden and immovable. The room fell silent for a
moment, or perhaps that was just the buzzing in his ears.

Over his head, he heard his father murmur to his mother, “Come along, Walburga, let’s retire for
the evening,” and then the sound of footsteps making their way up the stairs.

Sirius closed his eyes, relief washing through him as they left, thinking that he might just sleep
here, as he felt as if there was no incentive he could give to make his muscles move at all. Against
his cheek, he felt something smooth and cool, and knew that he must have fallen onto the shards of
broken glass Cygnus had left behind. Miraculously, he didn’t think they'd cut him, though the pain
in his whole body made it difficult to tell. Suddenly, he heard hurried but soft footsteps making
their way toward him, and he wondered vaguely if his mother had decided to come back to torture
him some more.

It wasn’t Walburga who crouched by his head, however. It was Regulus.

“Sirius,” his brother whispered, sounding terrified. “Are you alright?” The question was so
ridiculous that Sirius almost laughed. He didn’t, however, as he felt if he tried, he might pass out.

“Not really,” Sirius groaned. Even getting the words out felt almost too difficult for him to manage.

“Let me help you up,” Regulus said, keeping his voice low. Sirius felt his brother’s thin arm slip
under his armpit, then Regulus was attempting to prop him up. Sirius tried to help as much as he
could, and soon, Sirius was draped over Regulus’ shoulder and the smaller boy was lifting him to
his feet. Sirius swayed slightly once he was standing, but his legs cooperated enough for Regulus to
direct him out of the room towards the staircase.

The stairs were a bigger challenge, and it took Regulus more than ten minutes to get Sirius up them
to his fourth-floor bedroom and through the door. Regulus finally released him once they were
inside so that Sirius flopped down, face up across his bed, exhausted. Regulus was panting heavily
as he bent down to slide Sirius’ shoes off his feet and then stood up to regard him helplessly.

“What else should I do, Sirius? Should I get Kreacher?” Regulus asked, his voice high and worried.

“No, don’t get him,” Sirius said, despising the thought of the old house-elf croaking insults at him
while he was in this state. “I’m fine, Regulus.”

“You don’t look fine, Sirius,” Regulus said, his voice quavering. “What if—”

“I’ll be okay after I sleep. Don’t worry about me, just...could you help me get under my covers?”
Sirius asked reluctantly.

He wished he didn’t have to show his weakness in front of his brother, who was clearly terrified for
him, but there was no helping it; he couldn’t move by himself. Regulus shifted Sirius to pull the
covers out from under him, then threw them over his limp body. As if struck by a sudden idea, he
grabbed the glass next to Sirius’ bed and left the room, returning moments later with it filled with
cold water from the tap in the loo, and lifted it to his brother’s lips, helping him take several long
gulps.

“Let me know if you need anything else. Wake me up if you need help in the night.” Regulus said,
sounding scared and helpless.

“Thanks, Reg,” Sirius murmured, feeling his eyelids drooping already, his body still full of aches
from the aftermath of the curse. He heard his brother place the glass on his side table, then blow
out the candle and leave the room, closing the door behind him.
Sirius fell asleep immediately, but his dreams were troubled, and he woke up in a cold sweat more
than once in the night. The next morning, he was able to move again, but his whole body still
ached, and he was still exhausted. He limped down to breakfast and stiffened to see both his
parents sitting at the table eating, Regulus next to them. Sirius sat down, saying nothing to either of
them, but glanced up to meet Regulus’ eyes. He gave his brother a small nod, hoping this would be
enough reassurance to make Regulus look less anxious. The family ate in complete silence, and
when he was done, Sirius left the room swiftly to return to his bedroom.

As he reached the second floor, however, Sirius smelled the vague scent of smoke coming from the
drawing room and ducked his head into it to investigate the source. It came from the direction of
the tapestry of the Black family tree, and when Sirius drew closer to examine it, he realized that
there was a new burn mark on it, over the place where Andromeda’s name had been, between those
of her sisters. A chill went through Sirius that had nothing to do with the draftiness of the old house
as he gazed at the burn mark, then over at his name beside Regulus’. It was only a matter of time
until the same fate befell him.

Sirius left the drawing room and made his way up the remaining stairs to his room, then collapsed
onto his bed again, drawing his blankets back over him. He contemplated owling James and asking
him if he could stay at his house for the remainder of the holidays, but decided against it. James
would surely say yes, but then Sirius would have to explain why he couldn’t stay at his own home
anymore, and he didn’t want to tell any of his friends what his mother had done to him the previous
night. He didn’t think he could deal with their pity or their righteous anger at the moment. He also
knew that James would see right through whatever excuses Sirius could come up with, so he
resolved to stay where he was. He only had another week left, after all, and with any luck, his
parents would continue to ignore him for the rest of it just as soundly as they'd done this morning.

Upon making this decision, Sirius rolled back over and closed his eyes once again, letting go of
consciousness in favor of more sleep, which his body was clearly desperate for. That afternoon,
Regulus woke him, carrying a bowl of soup and bread, and forced him to eat and drink more water
before letting him fall back asleep.

Sirius wasn’t quite sure, in later years, how he'd gotten through the following days. They blurred
together in his head in a monotony of helpless boredom with an undercurrent of fear running
through him at all times as he lay in his bed, staring around at the walls and occasionally getting up
to go to the loo. Sometimes, he thought of Andromeda, of her departure from the house, and
wondered whether the brief pressure of her hand in his before dinner had been her way of saying a
personal goodbye before everything had fallen apart.

Even as Sirius began to feel normal again, he let Regulus bring him food up to his bedroom,
avoiding the rest of the household. For some reason, his presence hadn't been requested at any of
the other pureblood holiday parties that usually took place around this time. He wondered vaguely
if Orion and Walburga didn’t want him there, or if none of their family were going, due to
Andromeda’s recent desertion. However, Sirius didn’t ask, and Regulus didn’t mention it, either.

It was only on the last day of the holiday that Walburga and Orion demanded his presence at
dinner again, where they spent most of the time ignoring him and sometimes exchanging a stiff
word or two. Sirius was full of relief as he hugged his brother goodbye the next morning, his only
regret leaving Regulus all alone, once again, in this large and gloomy house with his parents.
Despite the guilt, Sirius decided that this would be the last Christmas he spent at home. In the
future, he'd stay at Hogwarts or go to James’ house, his parents’ rage be damned. Nothing could be
worse than this.

Kreacher side-along apparated him to King’s Cross Station without a word, and the first real smile
in a week split across Sirius’ face as he walked through the barrier onto platform nine and three-
quarters to greet his friends again. As they all sat down in their familiar compartment on the red
steam engine, James turned, grinning, to the rest of them, and asked the predictable question: “How
were all of your holidays?”

Remus and Peter both described seeing their families briefly, talking about the gifts they'd gotten
and being back in their homes. When James turned his gaze onto Sirius, Sirius only shrugged
noncommittally.

“It was fine, nothing special,” he said, a slight, half-smirk playing across his face to accompany his
lie.

The others seemed to take his statement at face value, but as James began to talk about his holiday,
too, Sirius was only half-listening, part of his mind still dwelling on the house he was moving
further and further away from by the second. After a moment, he realized he was being watched,
and looked across the compartment to see Remus regarding him with his unreadable, blue gaze.
Sirius quickly looked away, putting his feet up on the empty seat next to him and beginning to
fiddle with the armrest. By the time Sirius looked back up, Remus had turned his eyes away, and,
to Sirius’ relief, the other boy did not ask any further questions of him as the train sped towards
Hogwarts.
 1973: The Animagi Project

When they returned from their winter holidays, James, Sirius, and Peter were determined to begin
working on fulfilling their ambition to become Animagi. They weren’t quite sure where to start,
however, as the only books they'd found that mentioned Animagi in the library never went into
detail about how to achieve the transformation, and the subject of human transfiguration wouldn’t
be covered in class until N.E.W.T. level.

“This is useless!” Sirius exclaimed one day, as the three boys sat in the library pouring over
promising-looking books, which all ended up only having one or two sentences on Animagi.
“We’re never going to find anything practical in these.”

“You’re right,” James said, closing the book he'd been squinting at for thirty minutes with a snap
and leaning back in his chair, ruffling his hair frustratedly. “None of these are any help at all.”

“They probably don’t want students trying it, since it’s supposed to be dangerous,” Peter chimed
in, leaning back from the book he'd been trying to concentrate on. “If there are any books on how
to become an Animagus, they’re probably either locked in the restricted section or in McGonagall’s
office.”

James leaned forward, slamming the front two legs of his chair back on the floor loudly and
earning them an admonitory look from Madam Pince, which he ignored as he looked from Sirius to
Peter excitedly, his glasses glinting in the sun from the big windows in the library.

“That’s an idea,” he said slowly, beginning to grin.

“What’s an idea?” Peter asked, raising his eyebrows as he peered at James. Then, his friend’s
meaning dawned on him. “You’re not seriously suggesting that we break into McGonagall’s office,
are you? Do you know how dead we’d be if she caught us?” Peter shuddered inwardly at the
thought of McGonagall’s rage even as he said it.

“Oh, come on, Pete,” Sirius said, grinning, too. “This is the first brainwave we’ve had in a while.
And you’re right, they'd never make the information readily available to us, it is probably locked
away somewhere.”

“If it makes you feel better, we can do the Restricted Section first,” James offered, smiling and
lowering his voice so that Madam Pince would not hear them. “Anyway, Pete, it’s much easier
than most of the stuff we get up to. I have the cloak, then we can split up and search. Piece of
cake.”

“Remus won’t like it,” Peter said pointedly, looking from James to Sirius. They both rolled their
eyes.

“What Remus doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Sirius said. “Anyway, we’re doing this for him.”

“And you want to be able to turn into an animal,” James teased, laughing when Sirius shoved him.
“But mostly for Remus, yeah.”

“Fine,” Peter conceded. “But breaking into McGonagall’s office has got to be a last resort, I don’t
feel like being skinned alive anytime soon.”

“I actually think Pringle catching us in the Restricted Section would be worse than McGonagall, if
we’re being technical,” James pointed out, looking thoughtful. Peter groaned.
“That’s not helping,” he said, while Sirius and James exchanged amused glances.

Nevertheless, Peter found himself sneaking out of the boys' dormitory with James and Sirius under
the invisibility cloak after Remus had fallen asleep that night. They crept down the staircase and
out of the portrait hole quietly, the Fat Lady calling after them in confusion, demanding to know
who was there. They didn’t answer her, however, moving as quickly towards the library as they
could without being heard.

When they reached it, they noted that all the lights were out and that Madam Pince’s desk was
vacant. Smiling at each other under the cloak, they moved forward, stepping over the rope that
separated the restricted books from the rest. Peter smirked, thinking how ridiculous it was that that
was the height of the security surrounding the section. Surely there had been other students, just
like them, who had snuck in a time or two before. There weren’t even protective enchantments as
far as Peter could see.

James drew the cloak off of them, bundling it up in his arms as he lit his wand deftly. “Okay, let’s
split up and search. If any title looks likely, grab it. We can bring them back later if we need to, but
the sooner we get in and out, the better.”

Peter and Sirius both nodded, lighting their wands, too, and they moved off through the shelves,
scanning the spines. Every few moments, Peter looked up from his search, straining his ears to
hear if someone was coming, but all he heard were his friends’ quiet footsteps and the soft rustle of
their movements between the shelves. He turned back to the books, continuing his search. After ten
whole minutes, during which Peter felt less and less hopeful that they'd find anything here, and
began to dwell gloomily on the prospect of breaking into Professor McGonagall’s office, James
made a soft sound of triumph from two shelves over.

“Hey, c’mere! I found something,” he said in a stage whisper, and Peter hurried over to him, Sirius
joining them at the same time. James was holding a thin tome in his hands, the cover dusty and
aged. As he held it up, Peter saw the illustration on the front, which depicted a witch, half-
transfigured between her normal form and a dragon. The title read: Animagi Transformations, A
Practical Guide.

“That’s it! This is exactly what we need,” Sirius said in an excited whisper, grinning down at the
dusty book as if it was a treasure beyond imagination.

Just then, they heard a noise from the door, and James dropped the book with a thump as he started
in surprise. It fell onto Peter’s foot and he yelped, grabbing onto Sirius’ shoulder to steady himself,
which caused Sirius to step back into a bookshelf, letting out a swear as he knocked another couple
of books to the floor. Peter cursed his reflex—for some reason, Sirius had been unusually jumpy
since the holidays and started whenever anyone even brushed against him unexpectedly. Every one
of these sounds echoed through the dark room, loud in the empty library. The three boys looked at
each other with wide, scared eyes, and quickly extinguished their wands in unison, James grabbing
the book off the floor quickly before throwing the invisibility cloak back over the three of them.

As they snuck around the shelves, stepping back over the rope that separated the restricted section
from the rest of the library, they noticed the shadow of a stooped man against the wall behind the
shelves at the far side of the room. It was Pringle, the old, vicious caretaker who took an indecent
amount of joy in dolling out extreme punishments to students caught in wrongdoing. Luckily, he
was looking the other way, and James, Sirius, and Peter hurried out the door, breaking into a run
under the invisibility cloak once they thought they were out of earshot from the library.

They ran the whole way up to the Gryffindor common room, where James finally pulled the cloak
off to give the password to the very disapproving Fat Lady, who swung open to admit them
nonetheless. Luckily for them, the Fat Lady never snitched on wayward students, though she often
gave them tellings off almost as bad as those of Professor McGonagall.

They strode into the common room, sending each other relieved looks, breaths still coming out in
pants. At first glance, the common room looked deserted, so the three boys stopped to catch their
breath.

“That was close,” James said, grinning.

Peter shook his head disbelievingly, his heart still beating out of his chest, and wiped the beads of
sweat from his brow, glancing around the room absentmindedly as he did so. He froze as he saw a
figure rise from a chair, his mind going blank with terror. He nudged Sirius and James, and they
followed his gaze, both freezing in their tracks, too. The figure turned, and Peter let out a sigh of
relief when he realized that it was only Remus.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Remus asked, raising his eyebrows at them as he moved
nearer, crossing his arms over his chest. His hair was slightly mussed, probably from sleep, and
Peter identified his expression easily as that of the rather more vindictive version of Remus that
emerged whenever he was woken without his consent.

“Fuck, Remus, you scared the shit out of us,” Sirius laughed, huffing out a sigh of relief at the sight
of his friend. Remus didn’t smile, his eyebrows moving further up his forehead as he gave Sirius an
annoyed look.

“You didn’t really think you were being stealthy, did you? I heard you leave the dorm.”

“We tried not to wake you,” Peter said apologetically.

“Oh please, one of you knocked over Caspian’s empty cage on your way out,” Remus said, rolling
his eyes. Caspian, Sirius’ barn owl, was spending the night in the Owlery, but his cage had been
rather inconveniently placed on the very edge of Sirius’ night table and had crashed to the floor far
too easily upon their departure. James shot an annoyed look at Sirius, who tried to look innocent.

Remus narrowed his eyes at James. “What’s that you’re holding?”

James exchanged a look with Sirius, then looked over at Peter, before shaking his head and huffing
out a sigh, holding the book out for Remus to see.

“You may as well know,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking over-pleased with
himself. Remus took it from him cautiously, examining the cover before glancing back up at them,
the annoyance wiped clean off his face.

“Where’d you get this? I thought you said you couldn’t find any books about how to become
Animagi in the library.”

“Well, as it turned out, we weren’t looking in the right place,” Sirius said, smiling shiftily at
Remus.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” Remus said, rolling his eyes and shoving the book back towards James,
who took it with a smile. “You broke into the Restricted Section?”

“It’s really not as hard as it sounds,” Sirius said arrogantly.

“It’s a miracle you weren’t caught, idiots you are,” Remus remarked, trying to keep the look of
annoyance on his face, though Peter could tell he was suppressing a grin.
“We almost were, by Pringle,” Peter admitted. “Thank Merlin for James’ invisibility cloak, or we’d
be hanging from our ankles in the dungeon right now.”

“Well, let’s hope that no one realizes what book you took,” Remus said. “I expect McGonagall
would be quite keen to figure out who was messing around with the Animagus transformation,
since it’s so dangerous.”

“You say that almost as if you disapprove,” Sirius said, pouting at Remus. “Come on, Remus, you
don’t have to pretend to be all scolding. It’s only us here.” Remus stared at Sirius for a moment,
then his face broke into a grin, shaking his head in amusement.

“Alright, I won’t pretend, then,” he said. “Come on up to bed, though. McGonagall already
suspects us for most of what goes wrong around the castle. If you look extra tired tomorrow
morning, it’ll be obvious that you were out of bed, and if I don’t get at least another seven hours of
sleep, I’ll hang you by your ankles from the dungeons myself.”

James, Sirius, and Peter all grinned at one another before following Remus back up the boys’
staircase to their dorm.

....

The acquisition of the book helped them considerably, and they spent the following few weeks
passing it between them to read. After all three had skimmed it, they decided that the first step was
the acquisition of the ingredients they'd need to start the process. Unfortunately, that meant stealing
from Professor Slughorn’s private stores. This time, they devised a scheme that would occur during
daylight hours, as they knew that Slughorn would have his office and store cupboard locked up
tightly after curfew.

“There are so many things that could go wrong with this plan,” Remus said as they made their way
down to the dungeons one Friday afternoon in February.

“You’re the one who planned it!” Sirius said, rolling his eyes at his pessimistic friend.

“I know, and it’s still extremely risky,” Remus deadpanned. “Usually it’s only your dunderheaded
ideas that have the potential to get us caught, but—”

“Hey, I take offense to that!” Sirius interrupted. “James is equally bad at planning as me. Anyway,
you have nothing to worry about. It’s not you that’ll get caught if it goes awry. It’s Pete, or possibly
James and me.”

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Remus asked Peter. Peter grinned at him, nodding fervently. He
always felt more confident going into any plan that Remus had approved than just with James and
Sirius, where it always felt like someone might end up hanging off the Astronomy Tower from
their toes by the end.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful,” he assured his friend.

“Pete’s the best one for the job, anyway,” James insisted. “He’s sneaky, and Sirius and I are much
more suited to causing a diversion.”

“So I guess I’ll just be sitting around, waiting to see if you get caught,” Remus said.

“If you wanted to have a more active role, you should have said,” Sirius said, smirking at Remus.
“But you’re always the one that the professors least suspect, so you’re best where you are.”
Remus didn’t respond, peeling off from the group with one last roll of his eyes and making his way
over to the statue that he'd promised to wait beside. James, Sirius, and Peter walked down a few
more corridors before James pulled out his invisibility cloak from his bag, handing it to Peter, who
threw it over himself. Sirius and Peter walked together towards Slughorn’s office while James
hurried past them, off to start the diversion further down the corridor.

Sirius knocked on the door, and when Slughorn appeared he immediately began to rant and rave
about something he'd run into down the corridor. Slughorn looked wary for a minute, but when the
sound of an explosion going off came from the direction that Sirius was pointing, the Potions
Master reluctantly followed Sirius towards it, allowing Peter to slip, invisible, into his office. He
hurried over to the potions cabinet, opening it and moving inside. He looked around, over the
hundreds of little bottles, searching for what they needed for the potion they were to brew. Once he
found them, he took a few glass vials out of his bag, measured out the ingredients roughly, and
poured them into the containers.

He had some difficulty getting to the mandrake leaves, which were on a higher shelf, but he
eventually used Wingardium leviosa to get the vial down, all the time conscious of his rapid
heartbeat and the clock ticking on the wall behind him. Finally, Peter had gathered everything and
he shoved the vials back into his bag, slipping out of the cupboard, closing the door carefully
behind him, and dashing out of the office. When he reached the open corridor, he looked both
ways, relieved to find it deserted. He figured that the distraction was still in progress, as he caught
the smell of something burning from the direction that James, Sirius, and Slughorn had all gone off
to, and grinned to himself before taking off the other way.

He ran into Remus, still standing beside the statue, trying to look casual, after only a minute. Still
under the cloak, Peter passed the little vials to his friend, who shoved them deep into his bag.
They’d figured that if the four were all caught, Remus would be the least likely to be asked to turn
over his belongings, so the ingredients would be safest with him. It seemed that there had been
little need for this precaution, however, as the other two boys were thoroughly occupying
Slughorn’s attention with whatever they'd decided to do as a diversion. Peter hadn't asked what it
was going to be, as it was usually better not to know.

Remus began to walk away up the corridor, keeping his pace slow and casual, and Peter followed
him after a second, turning left instead of right at a split in the corridor to take the long way back to
the Gryffindor common room, ensuring that if either he or Remus was caught or questioned, they
were on their own. Teachers always seemed more suspicious of the four when they were together,
which was funny, as it wasn't as much of a danger sign as when they were without one another.
This usually meant that they were orchestrating a plan that involved splitting up.

When Peter reached the bottom of the Grand Staircase, he ducked into an alcove and removed the
Invisibility Cloak, shoving it in his bag and making his way back up the stairs. He was far enough
from the scene of the crime so that if he were spotted, he was unlikely to be detained. Even if he
was, however, it was Remus who had the evidence, and he was sure to have reached the dormitory
by then.

Sure enough, when Peter entered the Gryffindor common room, Remus was there, sitting at a table
with a sheet of parchment in front of him and a quill in his hand, his Defense Against the Dark Arts
textbook open next to him. Peter immediately walked over to him and sat down, giving him a
small, crafty smile.

“I got away easily, how about you?” he asked in a low voice. Remus smirked and nodded.

“No trouble at all. James and Sirius obviously pulled off their distraction well,” he replied. “I
stashed the ingredients upstairs when I got in, but I came back down here since I thought it was a
good idea to be somewhere with witnesses, in case James and Sirius get caught.”

Peter laughed. “Good thinking,” he said. “Honestly, they might get caught, though I doubt they’ll
get in as much trouble as I would have if they knew we were actually stealing. I heard an
explosion.”

“That’s why I never ask for details,” Remus said, rolling his eyes with a smile. “Plausible
deniability, and also I don’t want to have to deal with the ridiculousness of whatever they came up
with.”

“Talking about us, are you?” asked a voice behind them, and Remus and Peter turned to see a
grinning Sirius and James. James’ face was a bit sooty, but they were both beaming with a familiar
delight, which Peter recognized as their post-prank satisfaction.

“You got away alright?” Peter asked, unable to keep the note of disbelief from his voice. Sirius
smirked, sitting down across from them, James at his side.

“Hardly,” he said, still looking satisfied with himself. “James here decided to set off a filibuster
firework, which bounced off the walls of the corridor before escaping into a classroom and
blowing up all over the desks. Of course, Slughorn knew I was involved, though I think he just
thought that it was a prank gone wrong, not a distraction. We both got detention. We have to clean
the classroom tomorrow night. Still, it was funny.”

“It was pretty spectacular,” James said reminiscently, smirking, too. “You should have seen the
mess it made. I didn’t know those fireworks could do that.”

“I see you got a bit singed in the process,” Remus said, grinning at James’ grubby appearance.

“Oh, yeah, it kind of blew up in my face,” James said, shrugging it off. “No missing limbs or
injuries, though, so I count it as a successful mission. You got the stuff, right?” he asked, turning to
Peter. Peter smiled and nodded.

“It was easy, in and out. Remus already put them upstairs.”

“Good,” James said, looking pleased. “Now we just have to figure out how in Merlin’s name we’re
going to keep those leaves in our mouths for a whole month. I mean, how do we eat?”

“Oh, I’ve got that covered,” Sirius said, giving them a mischievous smile. “My family’s quite fond
of putting sticking charms on things that they don’t want their descendants taking down, you know.
That’s why we’ve still got that lurid painting of my great-great-great Aunt Elladora hanging in the
hall.” He sighed reminiscently, a grin on his face as he thought about it.

“But, uh, Sirius?” Peter said, raising his eyebrows doubtfully. “We don’t want them there forever.
Just a month.”

“Oh, sticking charms aren’t all permanent,” Sirius assured him, snapping out of his reverie. “There
are temporary ones, too, and I’m quite good at them, if I do say so myself, so I can fix them to the
roofs of our mouths, and voila! Easy.”

James looked doubtful, too. “No offense to your spell-casting skills or anything,” he said, his tone
clearly spelling out offense in every syllable. “But I don’t particularly want your wand anywhere
near my mouth.”

Peter, Remus, and Sirius all snorted with laughter at his wording, as they were still twelve-year-old
boys, after all.

“That’s not what your m—” Sirius began rather crudely, but James covered his mouth with a hand
quick as a flash before he could finish. He pulled it back only a moment later, however, groaning in
disgust, as Sirius had obviously licked it in retaliation.

“Gross, mate!” James protested, wiping his hand clean on his trousers.

“It’s that way or you don’t eat for a whole month, mate,” Sirius replied cheerfully, beaming across
at his friend as if nothing had happened. “The choice is yours.”

In the end, both James and Peter reluctantly agreed to let Sirius stick their leaves to the roofs of
their mouths. Sirius “accidentally” cast the charm so that James’ lips stuck together at first, so that
James was left making angry noises at Sirius for a few minutes while Sirius laughed
uncontrollably. Finally, he unstuck James’ lips and fixed the leaf in his mouth, doing the same for
himself and Peter. The leaves tasted bad, and Peter knew that they'd likely ruin the taste of food for
a little while, but it was a necessary evil.

The month passed relatively quickly, and they all felt a feeling of great accomplishment when it
was time to take the leaves out again to make the potion. It was exciting, the feeling that they were
doing something big, something important, something advanced, and yes, something they weren’t
supposed to be doing. Peter was caught up in the exhilarating feeling, which James and Sirius were
very vocal about, too. With their conviction in their own powers and confidence in their abilities,
Peter felt rather bolstered as well. He knew that he wasn't as much of a natural at magic as his
friends, but he also knew that they believed that he, as well as they, could do the transformation,
and it was that belief that spurred him on.

Peter had felt rather out of place and confused as to why he'd been included in the group when he
first arrived at Hogwarts, a feeling which had dogged him throughout the whole of his first year.
Sirius and James were both popular and charismatic, and Remus was clever and had a sort of wry
humor they all appreciated, but what did Peter have? Peter had never viewed himself as
exceptional in any way, just a boy who people’s eyes often seemed to pass right over. He was
average, and he thought at first that James’ insistence that he hang around with the other boys
would fade once he found other, better friends, and that it was due to the convenience of sharing
the dorm. However, James and the rest seemed to continue to want him around, and after a while,
Peter was finally forced to accept that they actually liked him.

Still, it wasn’t until they'd all learned about Remus’ lycanthropy that Peter had felt like he was
solidly part of the group. It seemed to reaffirm the bond that the four young wizards shared. The
secret was a pact between them which no one else was included in, not even Marlene or Dorcas.
The Animagi project was just another step to make them more united, so Peter was completely on
board, even if it scared him a little. As long as his friends were around him, Peter felt brave.

The weeks flew by as the boys worked tirelessly towards their goal, as well as going to classes,
and, in James’ case, Quidditch practice. Disappointingly, Gryffindor lost to Ravenclaw by an inch
in the final game as a bludger came out of nowhere just as Marlene was about to catch the Snitch,
knocking her off her broom and allowing Eleanor Williams, the third-year Ravenclaw Seeker, to
catch the Snitch instead. The atmosphere was dismal in the common room that night, though due to
the combined talent of the Gryffindor Chasers, Ravenclaw had only beaten them by sixty points,
meaning that Gryffindor would still be in second place for the cup. When the boys had gone to visit
Marlene in the Hospital Wing, she didn’t seem too run down about it, or perhaps she just hid it
well. She'd broken her arm in the fall and had several scrapes and bruises, which she appeared
rather proud of.
“Battle wounds,” she called them, grinning, as James tutted over her and rolled his eyes. “Anyway,
I’ll show Williams next year. She looked so smug, but she'd never have caught the Snitch if the
Bludger hadn’t been there. I’m a much better Seeker.”

When summer came, Peter was sad to say goodbye to his friends as he descended from the
Hogwarts Express, but happy to be reunited with his mother on the platform. She hugged him
tightly, beaming down at him before they set off, walking out of King’s Cross Station towards his
mother’s friend’s house, where they used their fireplace to floo home, as his mother avoided
apparition as much as she could if she had the choice.

“Petey!” exclaimed a little voice as he stepped out of their fireplace in Bradford fifteen minutes
later, and he felt his younger sister’s arms around him even before he could get his bearings. He
grinned and hugged her back, lifting her up from the ground and spinning her around.

“Nora! I’ve missed you,” he greeted her, putting his seven-year-old sister back down just as his
brother, Jack came catapulting into the room as well, running into his older brother’s arms.

“Was everything alright when I was gone?” Peter’s mother asked, hanging up her bag on the wall
as she dusted the ash off her dress.

“Yes!” Nora answered importantly, standing up straight and looking proud. “I kept an eye on
Jack.”

“I don’t need anyone keeping an eye on me,” the five-year-old Jack insisted, looking indignant, but
Nora ignored him, jumping up and down in excitement as she turned her gaze back to her older
brother.

“Petey, look what I can do,” she said excitedly, turning her gaze to the potted plant on the table,
which began to bloom under her watchful eye. Peter smiled and congratulated her, causing Nora to
beam in delight and Jack to pout angrily.

“Don’t worry, Jack, you’ll be able to do stuff like that soon,” Peter reassured his younger brother.
Nora smirked.

“Unless you turn out to be a Squib,” she said, and Peter could tell it wasn’t the first time she'd
teased him in this way.

“I am not going to be a Squib!” Jack exclaimed, his face going red with anger. Nora laughed
mockingly, causing Jack to launch himself at her so that Peter had to pull them apart. He could
already tell that it was going to be a long summer.
 1973: Scars and Stories
Chapter Notes

cw: mentions/depictions of abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The first day of third year arrived bright and early, James rising to meet the dawn as he always did.
This morning, however, he almost wished he could have slept in, just so he wouldn’t have to wait
so many hours to make the trip to platform nine and three-quarters to board the Hogwarts Express.
James whiled away the hours by fussing around his room, unpacking things from his trunk and
repacking them, all the while dwelling on the thought of seeing his friends again.

He’d seen Sirius more recently than his other dormmates, as Sirius had stayed at his house for a
week in mid-July before returning to London. Still, it’d been more than a month now since James
had seen his best friend, and James always worried about Sirius when he was at Grimmauld Place.
His friend had been vague on the subject of his family life, but James didn’t like the expression that
came across his pale face whenever he talked about his parents. It unsettled James, the not
knowing and not being able to help.

James was excited to see more than just Sirius, too. Remus, though he wrote James occasionally,
had never visited James, Peter, or Sirius over the course of the last two summers, nor had he
invited his friends over to his house. James never knew why, but he supposed that being self-
contained and secretive was kind of Remus’ thing, even after the three other Gryffindor boys in his
dormitory had learned about his “furry little problem” the previous year. Even during the last term,
when James felt like he understood his friend much better than he’d ever done before they learned
his secret, it was only Sirius who seemed to ever really know what was going through Remus’
mind at any given moment.

Peter, on the other hand, had invited Sirius and James over to his house in Bradford while Sirius
had been staying with James. They’d met his mother, a good-natured but frazzled witch who
worked multiple jobs to support her three children, their father having died in a bad splinching
accident when Peter was eight. Peter’s two younger siblings, Nora and Jack, were both sweet, and
James was astounded to observe the way that Peter switched on his reliable older sibling persona
at the drop of a hat when it was needed. Not that he'd have expected any less of his friend, but there
was a stark difference between this and the timid yet mischievous version of Peter who James
knew from Hogwarts. James felt as if the visit helped him understand Peter in a way that he’d
never done before. Still, his friend wasn't a very consistent correspondent, and so James hadn’t
heard much from him since then.

James had, of course, seen quite a lot of Dorcas and Marlene over the summer, as always. James
and Marlene had tried to remedy their boredom by playing a lot of Quidditch, determined as they
were to keep their skills sharp for the next Quidditch season at Hogwarts. When Dorcas could
persuade them to get off their brooms for an afternoon, they did other things, like swim at the pond
up the hill from his house, chase each other around the countryside, stargaze at night, or simply sit
in the grass talking. Still, by the end of the summer, the three weren’t sick of each other, per se, but
they were definitely looking forward to having some variety in the people they spent their time
with.
James had nearly unpacked and repacked everything in his trunk by the time Euphemia came to
check on him that morning. When she walked through the door to find James using his cauldron
for target practice as he made bits of parchment careen across the room with his wand, she scolded
him.

“It may only be a few hours before you’re allowed to do magic again, but it doesn’t mean I’m
alright with you performing it in the house while you’re underage,” she told him, holding out her
hand for his wand. James, looking a bit sheepish, sat up from his bed and placed it in her palm.

“Sorry, mum,” he told her. Euphemia smiled.

“Go and fly around a bit up the hill,” she said, shaking her head in amusement. “It might help you
get that extra energy out before it’s time to leave. You’ll be sitting on a train for the whole day,
after all.”

James nodded, giving her another sheepish smile, and grabbed his broom from where it was
leaning against the wall, ready to make the journey to Hogwarts with him. He gave his mother a
quick peck on the cheek before exiting the room, as he was now almost the same height as her. She
returned his gesture with a slightly exasperated, fond glance, and he let out a short laugh before
bounding away with his broom, throwing caution to the winds and mounting it once he got outside,
flying all the way up the hill to the clearing.

When James noticed that the sun had climbed higher in the sky, he checked his watch, letting out a
low swear as he realized that it was almost time to go. He landed back on the ground and
dismounted hastily before racing back down the hill towards his mother, who had just exited the
back door to call out to him. When he reached the house, slightly out of breath but smiling ear to
ear, he found that his parents had already brought his trunk down from his room, and it was
waiting alongside them in the sitting room.

“Ready to go?” Fleamont asked, giving his son a smile and an affectionate ruffle of his already
messy hair.

“Definitely,” James replied, beaming back.

Fleamont, Euphemia, and James exited the house and walked out into the front garden together,
Fleamont carrying James’ trunk in one hand. Once they passed the gate and closed it securely
behind them, Euphemia took James’ arm, Fleamont renewed his grip on the trunk, and all three
turned on the spot.

Moments later, the little family appeared in the remote corner of King’s Cross Station they always
apparated to, which was hidden away from the commuters and any curious eyes. James spared only
a moment to make sure that his broom wasn't jostled by the apparition, another moment to try to
flatten his hair, then set off, slipping into the sea of Muggles and moving towards platform nine
and three-quarters. His parents hurried after him, craning their necks to find his messy head of hair
in the crowd, and it was only a minute before James was dashing through the barrier between
platforms nine and ten into platform nine and three-quarters.

He stopped for a moment to take in the noise and chaos around him, a wide grin splitting his face,
before looking through the crowd more carefully, eager to catch sight of any of his friends. The
first person he recognized was Florence O’Connor, one of the fifth-year Beaters on the Gryffindor
Quidditch team, her curly red hair standing out a mile.

“Hey, Florey!” James called out, grinning at her when she turned to see who was calling. When she
caught sight of him, she practically bounced over, pulling him into a big hug which he couldn’t
help but feel very pleased about.

“James!” she nearly shouted, pulling back and grasping him by the shoulders briefly before letting
go. “Ready to win the cup this year?”

“Completely,” James replied, beaming. “Marley and I have been practicing all summer together.”

“Oh!” Florence exclaimed, her eyes widening as his statement clearly made her recall some bit of
earlier forgotten information. “Did you hear that Fiona quit?”

“What? Why?” James demanded, his own eyes widening in shock at the news.

“She didn’t get enough O.W.L.s, apparently, and her parents said she needed to spend more time
studying,” Florence replied, shrugging but smiling in an amused sort of way. James had never been
under the impression that she thought much of their Keeper, Fiona Robins. “I’m not worried,
though. There’ll be someone good out there to replace her.”

“I should let my friend Emmeline know,” James said, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “She’s
always wanted to be Keeper, but figured she’d have to wait for her chance until after Fiona left.”

“Well, she’d better be good,” Florence said, a sparkle of laughter in her eyes. “You know Sam
won’t care that she’s your friend. He’s got a stick up his arse, but he’s a good Captain.”

“She’s good, alright. And I’ve no complaints about Sam,” James said. “I’d get up at the crack of
dawn even if we didn’t have practice then.”

“Morning people,” Florence humphed, rolling her eyes. “Well, I gotta go find Marcus, but see you
around, James!”

“Bye, Florey!” James called after her, her mass of curls already disappearing into the crowd as
swiftly as they'd appeared. He laughed to himself as he turned back to look for his parents, who
were only a few steps behind him. He made his way back over to them.

“Friend of yours?” Fleamont asked, a slight, amused smile quirking up the sides of his mouth.

“She’s my teammate,” James explained. “Florence. I told you about her, right? A one-woman
wrecking ball, but one hell of a Beater.”

Euphemia nodded, exchanging an amused look with James’ father, then looked back at James to
ask: “Do you need any help getting your things onto the train?”

James allowed his parents to help him hoist his trunk up into the luggage rack before stepping back
onto the platform to say goodbye to them.

“As we tell you every year: please try and stay out of trouble, beta,” Euphemia said after both of
the Potters had hugged their son. James smiled.

“Love you, mum, dad,” was his only response.

They waved goodbye, and James climbed onto the steam engine, making his way towards the
compartment he and his friends always claimed for their train rides to and from Hogwarts. When he
looked through the glass, he wasn't surprised to see that Remus was already sitting there, absorbed
in a book.

James slid the door open and leaned in the doorway, grinning as Remus glanced up to look at him.
“Did you miss me?” he asked cockily, another wide grin splitting his face.

Remus rolled his eyes and stood up, striding over to hug James. James noticed as he did so that
Remus had grown an inch or two over the summer, making the two boys about the same height.
They released each other after a moment, laughing, James sitting down across from Remus next to
the window.

“So, how was your summer?” James asked.

“It was good,” Remus responded, smiling pleasantly. “My parents and I took a couple of road trips
around Wales and a bit of western England, seeing the sights and visiting old ruins and things.
Mostly, though, I just stayed at home and read.”

“Sounds fun,” James said not very convincingly, and Remus smirked at him. They both knew full
well that staying at home and reading was definitely not James’ idea of fun, rather, it was more his
idea of what his own personal hell might look like. This wasn't to say that James didn’t enjoy
reading, but he was always restless, and reading for him either involved getting so absorbed that
he'd finish a book in one sitting or, more likely, not being able to keep it up for more than fifteen
minutes.

“How’d you spend your summer, then?” Remus asked James.

“Well, you know about Sirius visiting that week in July,” James replied. “It was fun, I wish he
could have stayed for longer, but I don’t think his parents wanted him to. He was vague about the
whole thing, but I don’t get the sense that he has much choice in his family.” Remus nodded, his
brow furrowed in concern.

“Anyway,” James continued. “I spent the rest of the summer just doing regular things, you know.
Hung out with Dee and Marley a bunch, played a lot of Quidditch, went to see a couple of games,
you know, that sort of thing. I’m glad to be going back to Hogwarts, though. I would have been
bored out of my mind if the holidays were any longer.”

Remus smiled, but before he could reply, the door of the compartment slid open again to reveal
Peter there, grinning at the two of them. They both looked up at him in surprise.

“What, are you shocked to see me on time?” Peter asked, a note of self-satisfied amusement in his
voice.

“Yes,” Remus and James both replied in unison, grinning at the third boy before standing up to hug
him, James slapping him on the back enthusiastically.

“It’s good to see you, Pete!” James said after he released Peter. “I’m actually more surprised that
you’re here before Sirius. You’re throwing off our whole order!”

“He’s not here yet?” Peter asked, surprised. “I figured he might have just gone to the toilet or
something.”

“Nope, we haven’t seen him,” Remus said.

“Well, he better get here soon,” Peter said. “I’m not that early, you know. The first warning whistle
already sounded.”

Remus and James both shrugged before beginning to catch up with Peter on what he’d done over
his holidays, too. When they heard the last whistle warning, however, they glanced around at each
other, all of them feeling uneasy. It was unlike Sirius to be this close to missing the train, as he
usually got there solidly on time, glad to finally be away from his family. Remus and James peered
out of the window towards the quickly emptying platform, trying to catch sight of their friend.
There was no sign of him, however, and the platform was full of only parents by this time. The
train gave a lurch, and then they were beginning to move slowly away from platform nine and
three-quarters.

“Has he missed it? What do you think’s kept him?” Peter asked, an anxious note in his voice.
James and Remus looked at each other nervously, too, as the train gathered speed, rounding the
corner so that they lost sight of the platform.

“I don’t know, but I have a bad feeling,” James said darkly. It was only after ten minutes of
unsettled conversation before they finally saw Sirius, however. He slid their compartment door
open, an annoyed look on his face, but smiled when he took in the sight of them.

“You all look so worried, it can’t have been for me, can it?” he joked as he closed the door behind
him. James jumped up immediately, pulling his best friend into a tight hug.

“Where were you, mate?” he demanded after finally letting Sirius go, sitting back down but still
looking troubled. “We were worried that you’d missed the train.” Sirius hugged the other two boys
in greeting before sitting down next to James, across from Peter and Remus. James noticed that
though he tried for his classic casual air, his movements were a bit stiffer than usual.

“I was earlier than usual, actually. My mum came to see Regulus off, something she has never
done for me,” Sirius said rather bitterly. “Not that I care,” he added unconvincingly.

“I forgot that your brother was starting this year,” Remus said. “Is he excited?”

“Hard to tell with Reg,” Sirius snorted, looking very annoyed. “He’s talked about it some, but
whenever he’s in public he’s like my mother’s little robot, so he keeps his overt emotions to a
minimum.”

“But that doesn’t explain where you’ve been,” James said, looking puzzled.

“I was with Regulus,” Sirius said as if it were obvious. “My dear cousin Narcissa convinced him to
sit in a compartment with her and her Slytherin friends, including her boyfriend. I spent about
fifteen minutes trying to subtly convince him to leave that lot. I thought he'd see how shallow and
awful they all are, but then again, we spend all our time around people like that at home, so no
such luck. Finally, I asked him flat out if he'd come to sit with us in our compartment—I was tired
of the looks from all those snakes—and he refused, so here I am.”

“That blows,” James said sympathetically. “If only we could show him how much better company
we all are.” This elicited a slight grin from Sirius, but his face fell back into its earlier brooding
state after only a moment.

“So, how was your summer?” Remus asked, clearly trying to change the subject from Regulus, as it
was obviously a touchy topic. Unfortunately, Sirius’ expression only darkened further.

“Bloody awful,” Sirius said. “Other than staying with James for that one week, that is. My parents,
especially my mum, seemed to be trying to reinforce all the pureblood ideals in Regulus extra hard
this summer. It was like they were cramming before an exam, but the exam is the Sorting
Ceremony, and they’re trying as hard as they can to make sure Reg gets Slytherin and becomes a
perfect little pureblood, unlike me.”

“That’s shit,” James said, a knot of anger forming in his chest on Sirius’ behalf. “How’s Regulus
with all of it?”

“He doesn’t say much about it to me,” Sirius admitted, sounding regretful. “Of course, I’ve made
my stance on it pretty clear, and he stays neutral. The thing is, Regulus is more loyal to the family
than I am. The Sorting Hat was torn for me between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and I wanted
Gryffindor, so I got Gryffindor. If that was a choice for Reg, though, I doubt he’d make the same
decision.”

The boys in the compartment were silent then, sharing covert glances in lieu of speech. Judging by
the looks on Remus’ and Peter’s faces, Sirius hadn’t shared this fact about his Sorting before with
either of them, either. James hadn’t known that you could choose which house to be in if the hat
was conflicted, but then again, it made sense: the choice might reveal who you really were, and
what you really valued. It made sense for Sirius, too, as James would be lying if he said he’d never
seen his friend be ambitious and cunning at times. Still, Sirius valued bravery above most other
things, James knew, and that was why, at the end of the day, he belonged in Gryffindor.

“It’ll be alright,” Remus said, catching Sirius’ gaze and holding it steadily. “Whatever happens,
it’ll be alright, Sirius. Not everyone in Slytherin goes down the wrong path. Look at your other
cousin, Andromeda.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Sirius said, looking a little hopeful at the mention of Andromeda. “Andy
turned out okay. Reg could, too.”

“Of course he will,” Peter said, hitching a smile onto his face that James knew was an attempt at
encouragement, though it came off a little uncertain. Nevertheless, Sirius gave him a slight smile in
return, and James felt a bit reassured, thinking that Sirius’ dark mood couldn’t last for the whole
train ride. He resolved to change the subject to something that he was sure would brighten Sirius
even more.

“Aren’t you looking forward to going into Hogsmeade this year? Just imagine what we can buy at
Zonko’s.” Unfortunately, James’ words, far from having the desired effect, made Sirius’
expression darken once more.

“What is it?” James asked, confused and disappointed at the reaction.

“I can’t go to Hogsmeade, my parents refused to sign my form,” Sirius said, scowling. “Apparently
I don’t deserve privileges like going into the village, as I would only further disgrace them with the
company I keep there. Their words, not mine.”

They were all silent for another few moments, James, Remus, and Peter exchanging worried
glances. Finally, James spoke, though he was quite at a loss for how to make the situation better.
Every one of his attempts to cheer his best friend up so far had gone amiss.

“Sirius, I’m sure that if you talked to McGonagall or something…”

Sirius looked up at him, a disbelieving expression on his face. “You really think McGonagall
would let me go, James? She’s all about the rules.”

“What about Dumbledore, then?” Peter asked, looking sad and desperate. Sirius laughed.

“I don’t even know if I’d be able to get to Dumbledore to ask him about it. I’ve never spoken to
him except for when we get into deep trouble because of a prank. I guess I could pull something
that would get me sent to his office, but I doubt that that’d do me any favors when it came to
getting to go into the village.”
James looked around at Remus desperately. If anyone had a solution to this issue, it would be
Remus, as he was always the mastermind behind their best-laid-out plans—the ones that didn’t
result in them getting detention, anyway. Remus was silent, however, looking at Sirius with an
unreadable expression on his face. James sighed and turned back to Sirius, trying to find
comforting words to reassure him.

“Sirius, I’m sure we can—”

“Oh, give it here,” Remus said, interrupting James in the middle of his sentence. All three of the
other boys looked around at him, taken aback.

“Remus, what—” Sirius began to ask, his brow furrowed. Remus rolled his eyes.

“Give me your form, Sirius; do you still have it?”

Sirius looked even more confused, but pulled the blank form out of his back pocket and handed it
over. Remus produced a quill and ink out of his bag and leaned down to scribble on the parchment
quickly. He handed it back to Sirius, and James and Peter both leaned forward to examine it with
him. There, in rapidly drying ink, was the cursive signature which read ‘Orion Black.’ Remus had
managed to disguise his own handwriting, so it wasn’t obviously written by him. They all looked
up at Remus, who had tucked away his quill and ink by then, and was looking back at them, a
slight, self-satisfied smile on his face.

“Well?” he asked impatiently after a moment. “Do you think it’s passable, Sirius?”

“I mean,” Sirius said, sounding quite dumbfounded by what had just happened, “it doesn’t look
much like my father’s signature.”

“And have any of the teachers ever seen his signature before?” Remus asked testily.

“No, I suppose not,” Sirius admitted. A few seconds passed when they were all still shocked at
what their friend had just done. Then James broke into raucous laughter, shoving Remus’ shoulder
playfully.

“Way to go, Remus! Always coming through with the most brilliant ideas that don’t even occur to
the rest of us,” he said, still laughing as Remus broke into a grin.

“I’m not sure they’re that brilliant, the rest of you are just slightly moronic sometimes,” he said.
Sirius was still gaping at Remus. Remus looked across at Sirius, raising his eyebrows.

“Close your mouth, Sirius, you’ll catch flies,” he said, the smile in his voice belying his words.
Sirius closed it but still stared at Remus as though he’d never seen him before.

“Thank you,” Sirius said after a moment, his voice uncharacteristically sincere, “Really, thank you,
Remus.”

Remus smiled across at him, his cheeks tinged almost imperceptibly pink. “Of course, Sirius,” he
said, “I couldn’t exactly leave you to mope around the castle while we all went to the village. You
might get yourself killed without any of us to stop you from doing something unqualifiedly
insane.”

Sirius just smiled weakly and continued to look across at Remus, who James noticed was still
slightly red in the face.

“Next time we’re on break, you’d better come over to visit while I’m at James’,” Sirius said, after a
moment, affection coloring his voice. “I’m sick of you disappearing for two months every year.”

“Yeah, you’d better,” James emphasized, kicking Remus lightly in the shin. Remus smiled.

“We’ll see.”

That evening at the Sorting Ceremony, as Sirius had predicted, Regulus was sorted into Slytherin.
James was surprised by how long Regulus sat with the Sorting Hat on his head before it shouted its
decision, however. It seemed longer than when Sirius was sorted, even. He wondered what was
giving the hat pause, and by Sirius’ furrowed brow, he knew that his best friend was wondering the
same thing. When Regulus finally sat down at the cheering Slytherin table next to Sirius’ blonde
cousin, Narcissa, James saw him turn his head, looking over at his brother. The smaller boy gave
Sirius a small, apologetic smile, and when James looked over at Sirius, he found that he was
smiling back genuinely. In his eyes, James saw the message loud and clear: I won’t abandon you.

....

Their first week of third year was rather chaotic, in Remus’ opinion, as it involved all of the
Gryffindor third years having to find new classrooms and adjust to their new classes. Most of them
were taking two extra classes this year, except for Dorcas, Lily, and James, who had selected three
electives apiece. Each of them was excited about their different courses, though they were rather
overwhelmed by the new materials nonetheless.

Still, it wasn’t any of the new classes that resulted in the most interesting thing that had happened
that week. Instead, it was Professor Underwood, that year’s Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher,
who brought the most commotion to their first week.

The Gryffindors had D.A.D.A. during the period before lunch on Tuesday, and they were all
grumbling at the fact that they still had to take it with the Slytherins as they entered the classroom.
Professor Underwood, a short, rather funny-looking man with a prominent chin and small, bright
blue eyes, was already seated at his desk when they arrived. He waited for the whole class to sit
down before he stood from his desk and addressed them.

“You needn’t take out your books and notes for this class,” he started, his voice rather high and
squeaky. “We will be having our first lesson as a practical Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. It
is customary to begin third-year instruction for Defense with a lesson on boggarts. Can anyone
here tell me what a boggart is?”

Both Lily and Dorcas raised their hands into the air first, and Professor Underwood pointed to
Dorcas. “A boggart is a shapeshifter that takes the form of whatever scares the person facing it the
most,” she answered promptly, and Professor Underwood nodded, giving her a small smile.

“Correct, five points to Gryffindor,” he said, and Dorcas beamed happily. “Yes, a boggart takes the
form of our worst fears. This means that the only way to defeat a boggart is to overcome this fear
by transforming it into something amusing. There is also an advantage to being in a larger group
when facing a boggart, as it can become confused, not knowing whose worst fear to transform into.
That is why it is always best to have company when dealing with a boggart. If a wizard gets cocky
and thinks they can deal with one on their own, it can sometimes result in extreme cases where the
boggart literally scares them to death before it can be banished.”

The class took a collective sharp inhale at his words, staring at Professor Underwood in horror. He
merely smiled back at them. “Not to worry, there is a simple spell that is used to banish a boggart.
The incantation is Riddikulus, and when you cast it, you must imagine a way to make your fear
amusing as it appears in front of you. Then, the real way to kill a boggart is with laughter, which
will cause it to explode.”

Emmeline raised her hand, and Professor Underwood nodded to her. “Professor, what does a
boggart look like when it’s not transformed into someone’s worst fear?”

Professor Underwood smiled, looking pleased at her question. “Excellent question! The truth is
that no known person has ever seen a boggart in its natural state, and we do not even know if it has
a natural state. Academics have proposed that if someone were to use some kind of x-ray vision to
view a boggart from far away, they might be able to catch a glimpse of it untransformed, but as far
as I know, this theory has never been tested.”

Professor Underwood paused for a moment, looking around the classroom for other questions, but
when no one else raised their hands, he clapped his own hands together. “Well, as I said, this is a
practical lesson, and so I have a boggart here for us to practice the spell on!” He retreated behind
his desk and grabbed something, walking out from behind it carrying a briefcase, which he set
down on the floor on its side. “You see, boggarts prefer dark, enclosed spaces, which is why this
briefcase is ideal for containing it for practice. Now, I want you all to think for a moment and try to
conjure up an idea of what scares you most, then think of how to make it amusing.”

There was silence in the classroom as everyone searched their minds, many faces screwed up in
concentration as they thought. Remus didn’t have to search long to find his answer. He knew
himself well enough to narrow it down to two possible fears, and he also knew that whichever
appeared in the classroom in front of his peers wouldn’t be ideal. Either it’d be the monster he
became every month or the full moon that forced him into that shape. If it was the wolf, Remus
thought he could explain that away easily enough, as people would believe that his greatest fear
was werewolves. If the full moon appeared, however…whose biggest fear was the moon, other
than a werewolf?

“What do you think yours will be?” Remus heard James whisper to Sirius, behind him.

“No idea,” Sirius replied, leaning back in his chair casually. “I’ll just wing it.”

James murmured in agreement, and soon Professor Underwood was beckoning them to stand up
and using his wand to move the desks away so that there was a clear area for them to practice.
They formed a line, the four boys ending up at the back, much to James’ and Sirius’
disappointment, though Remus was grateful for it. He was hoping that class time would run out
before he had to face the boggart.

During the next fifteen minutes, they watched as their classmates faced up to their worst fears one
by one. The shapes the boggart took varied widely: some mundane, some magical. Dorcas faced
up against a sphinx, Marlene a giant scorpion, Mary an immense, crackling fire, and Lily a zombie,
still covered in earth from its grave. Finally, the Gryffindor boys were at the front of the line, and
Remus was starting to feel seriously anxious.

It was Peter’s turn first, and a set of writhing snakes appeared before him. He struggled, his face
red at first, before casting the spell to turn them into severed ropes, which fell lifeless to the
ground. James was next, and he stepped forward confidently, his wand outstretched, but he was
clearly not prepared for what came next. On the floor in front of him appeared two dead bodies.
One was a woman whose bronze skin very nearly matched James’, her eyes closed and a trickle of
blood running from her hairline to her jaw. The other was a tall man with pale, lined skin, his hazel
eyes wide and empty.

Dorcas clapped her hands over her mouth from the sidelines, staring at James in horror, and
Marlene went white. James only stood stock still, staring at the two bodies, a frozen expression on
his face. From their resemblance to James, Remus knew that they must be his parents, though he'd
never met them. The whole class seemed to be holding its breath as everyone’s gaze was fixed on
James, waiting to see what he'd do.

After a long moment where James just stared at the two bodies, he raised his wand again and
practically whispered the incantation. The bodies transformed into two dummies, lying abandoned
on the ground, their limbs at ridiculous angles. No one laughed, however. It wasn’t funny, not
while they were all remembering what the dummies had just been. James didn’t speak, just stared
at them, then blinked a few times and moved silently over to the rest of the students who had
already cast the spell. Remus saw Dorcas envelop him in a hug, Marlene rubbing his back
comfortingly. Only once James turned back around to watch did Sirius step forward, and the
dummies on the ground disappeared with a loud crack.

In their place rose another person, but this woman—with her tall frame and proud, haughty face—
was very much alive. She was dressed in long, formal robes with a high collar, and her dark brown
hair was done up in a tight bun. It wasn’t the look of hatred on her face nor her drawn wand which
made Remus stop in his tracks, however: it was the high cheekbones and grey eyes that he knew so
well. He glanced at Sirius to confirm his resemblance to the woman and was shocked to see that
Sirius’ grey eyes, identical to those of the woman standing in front of him, were full of a blank
terror Remus had never seen in them before.

Sirius’ mother raised her wand, her mouth forming a wild, deadly smile as she gazed down at her
son, ready to perform a curse. Remus looked frantically from Sirius to his mother, forgetting at that
moment that she couldn’t actually cast the curse, forgetting everything. Sirius didn’t move, didn’t
speak, didn’t lift his wand. He seemed to become smaller, hunching almost imperceptibly. Remus
knew then that Sirius didn’t have it in him to move, cast a spell, or even lift his wand.

It was the look on Sirius’ face, the complete submission to his fate, which made Remus step in
front of his friend. He forgot his earlier caution, his fear of his classmates seeing his boggart; it all
disappeared from his mind when he saw Sirius’ face. As he stepped in front of Sirius, the form of
Walburga Black disappeared, replaced by a full moon hanging in the air at Remus’ eye level. He
thought of the first thing that came to mind, raised his wand, and cried, “Riddikulus!” The full
moon fell to the ground as a ball, which bounced several times before rolling off into a corner.

Remus let out a low, mirthless laugh, which was echoed after a moment by Professor Underwood,
and some of their classmates. It wasn’t true laughter, not really, but as there had been several
chuckles before in the process of getting rid of other students’ boggarts, it did the trick. The ball in
the corner disappeared into many tiny wisps of smoke and was gone. Silence fell in the classroom,
and Remus turned to look at Sirius, who was still staring ahead of him, his expression frozen.

When the bell rang a moment later, Professor Underwood dismissed the class, and everyone
gathered up their bags and left, everyone except Sirius, Remus, James, Peter, Dorcas, and Marlene.
James, though obviously still shaken from his own boggart, walked over to Sirius and put a hand on
his shoulder, which made Sirius flinch away, moving for the first time since his boggart had
appeared. He glanced over at James, who had removed his hand but looked back at Sirius steadily.

“Come on, mate,” James said, his voice sounding tired but strong. “Let’s get out of here. Get some
lunch.”

They gathered up their things and left the classroom in silence, all descending the staircase to the
Great Hall. It wasn’t until they'd sat down at the Gryffindor table, Dorcas and Marlene alongside
them—obviously deciding that their need was greater than that of the other Gryffindor girls— that
someone spoke.
“Was that your mum, Sirius?” Peter asked, sounding a bit cautious, as if he wasn’t sure if he was
supposed to be asking the question at all, his eyes fixed on Sirius. Sirius looked up from his empty
plate and met Peter’s gaze, nodding but saying nothing. James sighed, and then began to pile food
onto his friend’s plate. When he was finished, he handed him his fork and knife, raising his
eyebrows at him insistently, and Sirius took them, beginning to eat mechanically. Dorcas attempted
to make some mild small talk during lunch, trying to cheer people up, but mostly they ate in
silence, ignoring the chatter around them.

When they finished lunch and walked together to their next class, Charms, Dorcas asked Remus
lightly: “Your boggart looked a bit like a crystal ball. What’s that about?”

Remus had barely given a thought to the fact that the whole class had seen his boggart turn into the
full moon since the class ended, his mind occupied as it was with Sirius’ predicament. Still, he was
very relieved to hear that it hadn’t been obvious that it was the moon. He let out a forced laugh. “I
suppose we’re all afraid of the future, aren’t we?”

Dorcas smiled in return, and let the subject drop.

....

It wasn’t until that afternoon that they finally got the opportunity to talk to Sirius about what
happened in Defense Against the Dark Arts, as they had Charms and double Herbology with the
Hufflepuffs after lunch. At least the Hufflepuffs hadn’t been witness to what had happened, as
Remus guessed that the Slytherins were likely to be gossiping about it already. He wondered if it
would get back to Sirius’ younger brother, Regulus. He guessed there was nothing any of them
could do about it if it did.

After Herbology, the Gryffindor third years headed back to their tower in a pack, and the girls and
boys went up their separate staircases, eager to change their clothes and wash the earth off of their
faces and arms. Once they'd changed, Remus glanced over at James, who had sat on the side of his
bed, his head in his hands.

“Hey, James,” Remus said, going over to put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You alright,
mate?”

James sighed and looked up at Remus, his face flushed. “I honestly don’t know,” he admitted,
shaking his head. “Seeing my parents like that...I don’t know how to get over that.”

“I’m not sure if there’s an easy way to get over it,” Remus said, rubbing his friend’s shoulder in
what he hoped was a comforting way. “At least you know it wasn’t real.”

“Yeah,” James said, nodding and exhaling a deep breath. “Yeah, it wasn’t real.” He said it as if he
was trying to convince himself, and was silent for several more moments. “But it’s not me I want
to talk about right now,” he added finally, lifting his gaze to look to the other side of the room,
where Sirius was standing, fidgeting with his shirt collar, a preoccupied look on his face.

When Sirius noticed James, Remus, and Peter all looking at him his hands fell to his sides, a
defensive expression on his face. “What?”

“You know what,” James said, his voice sounding tired as he stared at his best friend, concern
apparent on his face. Sirius looked back at him in silence for a moment, but when he finally opened
his mouth to speak he was interrupted by a knock on the door. They all turned in surprise to see the
door open, revealing Dorcas and Marlene.
“We wanted to see if you all were okay,” Dorcas said, raising her eyebrows as she took in the scene
before going over to sit down beside James on his four-poster bed. Marlene closed the door behind
her before making her way into the room, crossing her arms and looking from James to Sirius.

“Getting right down to it, are we?” she asked, her eyes flicking between the two boys, taking in
their serious expressions.

“I’m not sure why we have to talk about this,” Sirius muttered, avoiding all of their gazes and
looking annoyed as he fidgeted with his sleeve. “I’m not asking any of you about your boggarts,
am I?”

“Well, if you want to know, I turned over a rock in the field behind Dorcas’ house when I was four,
found a nest of scorpions, and got stung so many times that I fainted,” Marlene said frankly. “And
Dorcas had nightmares about sphinxes for weeks after her father read us a children’s book about
them when we were six. I think the thought of such a high-stakes riddle makes her nervous. She’s
afraid of being wrong, you know.”

“Marlene,” Dorcas chided quietly, from next to James, but Marlene only spared her a quick glance
before looking back to Sirius, who was glaring at her. She gave him an innocent smile, continuing
on doggedly.

“I don’t think that’s really the point, though,” she said, the smile fading from her face. “The point
is that...well, we’re all here staring at you strangely right now because none of us are sure how to
say that we’re concerned about you because while I think that lesson was difficult for all of us in
different ways, the fact that your biggest fear is your mum is bloody awful and makes all of us
think the worst, so we just want to make sure that you’re alright.” Marlene said all of this rather
quickly, all the time gazing at Sirius with an uncharacteristically serious look on her face, her eyes
searching his.

Sirius continued to glare at her as she gave her little speech but rolled his eyes when she finished.
“Well, that seemed rather easy for you to say,” he remarked bitterly.

He sighed, looking around at all of them briefly before looking up at the ceiling and shaking his
head. His hands were clenched into fists, his movements restless. He seemed like he was steeling
himself for something. When he looked back down, he met Remus’ eyes first, holding eye contact
for a few seconds, as if he was trying to draw strength from Remus’ gaze. He sighed again, turning
to Dorcas, James, and Marlene, who were still staring at him from the direction of James’ bed.

“Well, I guess there’s not much point in lying to you lot,” he said. “You already know that my
family isn’t the best from how I talk about them. You’ve had the decency not to ask for details
until now, and I’m sure you’ve all been curious.”

“It didn’t seem right to ask,” James said, shrugging. “Not until now, at least.”

“I didn’t want you to ask,” Sirius said shortly. “I didn’t want to have to answer or see the looks on
your faces when I did. But I guess the jig is up now, so you might as well know.”

Pausing for a second, he took a deep breath, then, in one swift movement, pulled his shirt over his
head, turning his back to the group. For a moment, Remus was confused. His brain seemed to go
blank for a second as his gaze traced over Sirius’ exposed skin. Then, Remus’ vision focused, and
saw what he was used to looking for only on his own skin: the crisscrossing of many long, white
scars. They covered Sirius’ back, some thick and some thin, numerous in some areas and faint and
far in between in others. The most prominent one stretched up from Sirius' spine to his left
shoulder, raised and still slightly pink against his pale skin.
Remus was used to seeing scars on himself—they littered his body, souvenirs from old full moons.
He wasn't used to seeing scars on other people, however, and had never noticed them on Sirius. Of
course, it wasn’t as if he watched his friend change, but he realized then that Sirius, like Remus
himself, had always taken care to change his clothes behind his bed or with his four-poster curtains
closed, shielded from view at least partially. Still, Remus had never imagined that Sirius did it for
the same reason that he did.

Bile rose in his throat as he watched Sirius pull his shirt over his head again, turning back to them,
not quite able to look any of them in the eyes. His gaze fixed on one of the corners of James’ four-
poster bed as he spoke, addressing his next words to it. “As long as I can remember, my parents
have enforced the rules in our house physically. If I do something I shouldn’t—speak out of turn,
challenge my parents, make a mess, get into books or heirlooms that I’m not supposed to touch—
my father uses his belt on me.”

There was a long silence. Remus felt sick as he stared at Sirius, imagining someone doing that to
him as a child. Not even as a child...the most prominent scar looked relatively new, and Sirius
hadn’t used the past tense when he spoke about his punishments.

“But it was your mother who was the boggart,” James said, staring at his friend in utter horror,
sounding as if every word had been dragged out of him without his consent.

“My mother’s the crazy one, even if it’s my father who’s usually the enforcer,” Sirius said, looking
up to meet James’ eyes briefly before looking down at the ground. “My father’s violent, but
controlled. If my mother catches me doing something wrong, she’ll scream at me for hours, and
throw me around the room for good measure, even if all I did was leave a book on the stairs. This,”
he said, lifting his shirt again to show a thin scar under the right side of his ribcage, “is from when
she threw me against the corner of an antique coffee table in my cousins’ house after I knocked
over a vase of flowers. It wouldn’t stop bleeding for hours, even after Kreacher—our house-elf—
put on two layers of dittany.”

“Merlin, Sirius,” Marlene said, her eyes wide and her hands lowering from where they were
covering her mouth in shock. “I—fuck, I don’t know what to say.”

Sirius looked back at her with steely grey eyes, which appeared slightly unfocused, as if he wasn't
really seeing her, as he continued. “I guess my boggart is my mother because I’m scared of what
she’ll do to me when the time comes that my father doesn’t hold her back.” His expression
twitched slightly, and Remus narrowed his eyes. He didn’t think anyone else had noticed, but for
some odd reason, he thought Sirius might be lying to them, or at least withholding some of the
truth.

“What can I do, Sirius?” James asked finally, after the silence had stretched too long. “Please let
me help. I know that my parents would take you in in a heartbeat if you wanted to live with us
during breaks.”

Sirius sighed and met his best friend’s desperate hazel gaze, shaking his head. “James, I can’t,” he
said. “I’ve survived thirteen years. Hell, I didn’t even know it wasn’t normal until I was about
nine. Anyway, if I leave I’ll be disowned, and I won’t be able to protect my brother from it all
anymore.”

“Regulus...is he—do they do this to him, too?” Peter asked, looking sickened by the thought.
Remus, too, felt a wave of illness overtake him at the thought of the small eleven-year-old boy who
he’d seen in the corridors, and who looked so much like Sirius. He was so young. Then again, so
was Sirius, and according to him, this had been happening to him ever since he’d been a small
child.
“Like I said, I protect him,” Sirius said shortly, looking down at the ground again, his tone making
it clear that he’d be fielding no more questions on that particular subject.

“I’m so sorry, Sirius,” Remus said finally. Sirius nodded at the floor, not meeting Remus’ gaze.
Remus knew that Sirius hated the thought of being pitied by any of them, and he didn’t want to see
it in their eyes. Still, pity wasn’t the main emotion Remus was feeling—it was sadness. He looked
over to James and found James looking back at him. For a moment, they shared the same helpless
look.

It was Dorcas who ended up asking Sirius if she could hug him, and, once he nodded, wrapped her
arms around him gently. He buried his head in her shoulder, closing his eyes, and as Remus
watched, he saw one of Dorcas’ queen chess piece earrings brush against his cheek. When she
finally pulled back, she told him quietly: “If you ever need anything, want me to do anything to
help you, I’ll do it in a heartbeat. All you have to do is ask. Please know that.”

He nodded to her and managed a smile. “I know you all want to help,” he said, addressing the
whole group now. “But please don’t say anything, not unless I ask you to. Please.”

They all agreed in the end, James looking especially reluctant, and Remus thought that Sirius
looked intensely relieved, which gave him a pang. Of course, he understood why Sirius didn’t want
anyone to know, but he still hated it.

The day’s events had shaken all of them, and they ended up laying on the floor of the boys’
dormitory, sharing stories. Sirius told them all about some other stories from his childhood, too,
which he’d never done before, at least not around Remus. While Sirius told them about sneaking
out of his home to explore Muggle London, reading books from the local library, going to parks,
and learning about the world outside his little bubble, Remus just watched him. He wasn’t really
shocked, not like their other friends, who looked awed by Sirius’ nerve. He’d always known that
Sirius’ willingness to break rules didn’t come from the same place as James’ or Marlene’s did. He
was a rebel, but not without a cause, because he’d learned to be one to survive, and then found that
it suited him.

Sirius just smiled at their other friends’ shocked faces. “What, you thought I was just born knowing
that the stuff my parents told me was wrong? That’s not something you can just know is wrong, not
if you grew up with it being drilled into you like me and Reg did,” he said, a momentary sadness
coming across his face, presumably related to his brother.

He continued, conviction in his voice, looking around at all of them. “You have to unlearn it. You
need to have a source of information that contradicts what you’ve believed all of your life.
Otherwise, you’re stuck believing the wrong thing for your whole life. I’m not exceptional, I just
happened upon the information and changed my views accordingly.” His tone was far more modest
than was usual for Sirius, and this only added to the air of deep sincerity in his words.

“You did a bit more than happen upon the information, mate,” James said, grinning gently at him.
“You were brave enough to go out there and get it, to demand the truth.” Sirius merely smiled
again and looked away.

....

Sirius was quite exhausted by the time dinner rolled around, both from the emotion that’d welled
up in him upon seeing his mother unexpectedly and from all the truth he’d revealed to his friends.
Of course, he hadn’t told them everything. He’d been careful not to share the worst memories, as
the looks of horror on his friends’ faces had been bad enough as it was. Sirius knew the truth,
though. He knew that he wasn’t scared of the prospect of what his mother could do to him when
unrestrained because he already knew what that felt like. He was scared of it happening again, as it
had twice so far over the summer. Sometimes Sirius woke up in a cold sweat from nightmares
about it, his body aching as though the curse had been real.

Still, sharing this information with his friends would do nothing for Sirius. They’d only encourage
him to speak to a professor, or perhaps Dorcas would tell her Auror mother to step in. Sirius knew
the Ministry would never send Aurors into the house of a family as prestigious as the Blacks,
however, and even if they did, Sirius wasn’t sure that that was what he wanted.

The only thing that Sirius clung to when he was dealing with his parents was the pretense that
nothing they did could affect him, not anymore. He didn’t flinch when his father’s belt struck his
back; he didn’t cry out when his mother hit him. When she used the Cruciatus Curse on him it was
rather different, as Sirius hadn’t yet been able to stop himself from crying out in pain from that
particular tactic, but at least he was now able to get back on his feet and glare at her after the fact.
Sirius told himself that his spirit wouldn’t break, and so there was nothing she could do to him that
would really matter. More than that, though, Sirius refused to give his mother the satisfaction of
knowing how much he feared her.

After dinner, the six Gryffindor third years retired to the common room to do some of the
schoolwork that they'd neglected that afternoon. When the darkness deepened outside the windows
so that they could no longer make out the grounds, Sirius finally packed up his things and went to
get ready for bed in the dormitory. Remus, who had gone up to bed earlier, was lying in his bed
reading a book, but he looked up when Sirius entered. Sirius shot him a cautious smile before
changing into his pajamas and going into the loo to brush his teeth. When he returned to the
dormitory, Remus called out to him:

“Hey, wait,” he said, hoisting himself out of bed and standing up to face Sirius, who turned away
from his own four-poster bed to raise an eyebrow at Remus, wondering what he was doing. Remus,
for his part, looked like he wasn’t quite sure himself.

“I want to show you something,” he said rather abruptly, his gaze flicking around the room before
settling on Sirius again, looking awkward. Sirius furrowed his brows at Remus but approached him
nonetheless, stopping a few feet away from him and crossing his arms.

“What is it?” he asked, eyes scanning over Remus’ face in what he hoped was a nonchalant way.
The look in the other boy’s blue eyes made Sirius certain that this was about what they’d talked
about earlier, and Sirius wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it.

Still, Remus didn’t speak, he only looked past Sirius nervously to make sure the door was closed,
then pulled his shirt over his head, just as Sirius had done hours earlier. Sirius’ mind went blank
for a moment, not even registering the strangeness of the situation as his gaze fell to take in Remus’
half-naked form.

The first thing Sirius registered was how thin Remus was. Sure, the other boy was a bit taller than
Sirius, but both James and Sirius were stockier than Remus, who was quite lanky. Even with his
thinness, Remus was far from frail, and Sirius thought that he looked strong, but perhaps this also
stemmed from the fact that he knew Remus could take any of the other boys in a fight if he wanted
to (which he usually didn’t). After noticing all these things, however, Sirius realized that this wasn't
what Remus had taken off his shirt to show him. It took him a moment to focus on the other boy’s
skin, which he saw was painted with scars, just like Sirius’. Sirius’ eyes widened as they traced
down Remus’ chest, taking in the scratches and bite marks scattered across the exposed skin like a
map of memories.

He looked up to meet Remus’ eyes and saw the raw vulnerability he'd been feeling for hours
 reflected back at him in their blue depths. Remus took a deep breath and opened his mouth to
speak.

“I know it’s not the same,” he started, still holding Sirius’ gaze steadily. “But the first thing I
thought when I saw your back was that I wasn’t used to seeing that many scars on someone other
than me. I don’t know why, but in some small way, seeing them on you made me feel less alone.
And so I thought that maybe, if I showed you mine...it might make some small part of you feel less
alone, too. Because you aren’t—alone, I mean. You’ll always have me—and all of us.”

Sirius wasn’t sure what to say, he just stared at Remus in awe. He felt as if he was seeing him for
the first time, and Remus was right: he did see a part of himself in the other boy’s scarred body.
The scars weren’t just scars, they were a symbol of the pain they’d both endured, in one form or
another. And, yes, it did make Sirius feel less alone, but it was more than that. Perhaps this was the
reason that he’d always felt like Remus could read him like a book in a way that no one else could.
Perhaps it was the shared pain that they’d recognized in one another that made them uniquely
suited to understand and comfort each other.

Now, when Sirius looked into Remus’ eyes, he didn’t see pity there, only understanding. After
several moments of them just staring at one another, Remus began to flush, the heat creeping down
his neck to his chest. Before he could move to put his shirt back on, however, Sirius stepped
forward and hugged him. They stayed like that, holding each other, Remus’ bare chest against
Sirius’ t-shirt, until they heard footsteps outside the door, and Remus hastily pulled away to put on
his shirt again, flushing still further as James and Peter stepped into the room, talking cheerfully.

As they moved away from each other, however, Sirius gave Remus a grateful smile and said,
“Thank you.” Remus smiled back, and Sirius knew he understood.

Chapter End Notes

About Regulus’ age—I got really obsessive about coming up with birthdays for all my
characters at the beginning of writing this fic (gotta get their star signs right, duh), so
in my head, Regulus’ birthday is October 6th, 1961. Like Sirius, he is on the older side
of his year at Hogwarts. I know that most people see Regulus as being the year below
Sirius’, but I just felt like making him two years below the Marauders instead, and it
works for me and my timeline. I don’t care what the wiki says, if it’s not in the books
it’s not canon.
 1973-1974: Changes
Chapter Notes

cw: internalized homophobia

See the end of the chapter for more notes

I watch the ripples change their size

But never leave the stream

Of warm impermanence

So the days float through my eyes

But still the days seem the same

- “Changes,” David Bowie

Dorcas would forever remember her third year as the year where everything in her life had been
turned upside down and shaken vigorously for good measure. It was a chaos of a year, which
Dorcas supposed had to do with the fact that puberty had finally overtaken all of them, despite
some of their desperation to escape it.

The signs of this were visible in the fact that the boys were beginning to slowly grow taller and
look more their age, while the girls had all reached the unwelcome milestone that were their
periods, and begun to develop curves. Emmeline Vance’s hair had darkened and developed a
pronounced wave, while Marlene’s blonde locks had begun to frizz and curl, too. Other things
were even less exciting, like the pimples that had decided to set up shop on all of their faces. Mary
got the worst of it, and she lamented the painful red cysts that had formed on her cheeks and
forehead. Still, all of the girls in the dormitory had to deal with it on different levels, and each of
them hated their spots with a fiery passion, though they found solace in their collective struggle.

Still, Dorcas wouldn’t really be able to appreciate the inconvenience that puberty brought to her
life until one Wednesday in early December, when she’d been walking with Lily from Arithmancy
towards the library. If Dorcas had known about the bucket that had been rigged up just above the
doorway, ready to empty its contents on some unsuspecting student, or that it would start a multi-
year-long feud, she would’ve surely steered them away from the library that day, but alas, she
hadn’t known.

And so it was that Lily, upon walking through the doors to the library, had been covered from head
to foot in lime green goo. Dorcas, just behind her, leaped back in fright, staring wide-eyed at her
roommate. Lily turned, spluttering, shaking her arms to try to rid them of the slime, her eyes
squeezed tightly shut. Her hair was plastered to her face, her clothes soaked and every inch of her
skin covered in the stuff. Dorcas gaped, looking around. That was when the snickering started.

Deserted though the library appeared to be on this Wednesday morning, Dorcas would know
Sirius’ laughter anywhere. Clearly, Lily recognized it too, because it was then that her eyes
snapped open, and she looked furious.

“Black!” she called out in a hiss, turning back towards the library very slowly, towards where
Sirius was emerging from a shelf, a satisfied grin on his face. He kept laughing, walking forward to
stand a few feet in front of Lily, almost doubling up with mirth while she stood there, covered in
slime, hands on hips, glaring at him. Dorcas knew enough to be wary of Lily’s stance. Lily’s
temper had increased exponentially in the past few months—another effect of puberty—and she’d
taken to snapping at people for little things. She was mostly very apologetic about her temper
when it was directed at one of their roommates, but Sirius had kicked the hornet’s nest, and Dorcas
knew that he wouldn’t be so lucky.

“Oh, Evans, you just made my day,” Sirius said finally, once his laughter ceased, wiping tears of
mirth from his eyes. Dorcas shook her head at him frantically from behind Lily’s back, trying to
tell him that this wasn't the time, but it was no use.

“You think this is funny?” Lily asked, her voice low and deadly.

Sirius grinned, but Dorcas thought she saw something dangerous in his grin this time, too. He knew
full well that he was picking a fight, and he was going into it head first. Dorcas could’ve kicked
him. Sirius had always had a temper, had always been impulsive, but both tendencies had increased
recently, too. Now, Dorcas’ two most hot-headed friends were about to tear each other apart while
Dorcas watched helplessly.

“Well, yes,” Sirius responded slowly, grinning at her and arching an eyebrow. “That was the whole
point.”

What followed was the loudest shouting match Dorcas had ever heard up until that point in her life.
Lily had screamed all the swear words she’d ever heard at Sirius, and Sirius, not to be outdone, had
used his own choice selection in return. When Lily pulled out her wand and sent a stinging jinx his
way, Dorcas hadn’t had time to react or intervene, but looked on in abject horror as Sirius drew his
own wand, glowering back at her. Luckily, the impending duel was cut short by Madam Pince
striding out of the shelves to see what all the fuss was about, catching sight of the slime covering
her precious library floor, and giving Sirius and Lily a double detention.

This had only made Lily, who had never received detention before in her life, even more furious,
but there was nothing she could do. Madam Pince vanished all the slime—including the large
portion of it still covering Lily’s person—with one swish of her wand, and sent them all on their
way.

That evening, when Lily and Sirius served their detention together, they’d presumably proceeded
to verbally abuse one another in every way they could think of—short of anything truly offensive
—for two hours. From then on, the two had been at each other’s throats, exchanging passive-
aggressive comments in classes as well as having shouting matches in the corridors and common
room whenever they were particularly pissed off.

Dorcas, for her part, was both exasperated and annoyed by the situation. She had no idea how to
intervene, or if she even dared to.

“I just thought they’d burn each other out by now,” Dorcas told James one day in February, looking
on wearily as Lily and Sirius elbowed each other in their quest to select the best Puffapod to tend to
from the cart at the front of their Herbology class.

“I know,” James said, sighing and rolling her eyes. “I mean, Evans’ got a stick up her arse,
obviously, but I wish Sirius would just leave her alone so we can get back to pranking in peace.”
“Lily’s nice,” Dorcas protested feebly, well-used to repeating this argument with Marlene, Sirius,
and James at this point. James rolled his eyes at her, and Dorcas sighed. “Well, why don’t you tell
him that, then?”

“I have,” James replied, shrugging. “He’s like a dog with a bone. As long as she keeps sniping at
him, he won’t back down. He can’t let her have the last word.”

Lily was quite impossible to reason with, too. She insisted that Sirius always started it, which was
perhaps technically true, but it was also a fact that Lily used the mildest excuses to snipe at Sirius,
so in Dorcas’ opinion, her friend wasn't innocent in any sense of the word. If Dorcas attempted to
point out Sirius’ good qualities, suggesting that the two were similar in some ways and perhaps
they could find some common ground, Lily would only go off on a rant, and therefore Dorcas gave
up quickly.

Most of the third years were preoccupied with other, more exciting things these days than thinking
about Lily’s and Sirius’ attempts to murder each other, too. Puberty meant that Dorcas had found
herself in the second term of third year surrounded by young wizards and witches succumbing to
their first flutters of attraction to one another. Crushes were popping up left and right, and now that
they were all old enough to recognize them for what they were, some students even started
“dating,” a term which Dorcas understood loosely meant talking to each other a couple of times
blushingly, perhaps holding hands in the corridors, and sharing their first fumbling, closed-lip
kisses. Indeed, by February, James had begun “dating” Sarah Flemming, a cute Hufflepuff girl with
a round, friendly face and baby blue eyes, who still wore her hair in two blonde pigtails.
Sometimes they passed silly little notes with hearts drawn on them in Charms.

Dorcas had thought herself rather immune to this for the first few months, when her roommates
began to talk avidly about members of the opposite sex. She'd been glad of it at first, as she was
much more interested in spending her time learning all she could in her new and fascinating classes
than thinking about boys, but over time, it began to worry her. Mary had admitted to Dorcas in
confidence that she didn’t really know what all the fuss was about, either, which had made her feel
better. Still, the worry nagged that something was wrong with her.

One Thursday afternoon in March, Dorcas received a hint as to why she hadn’t been experiencing
the same feelings her roommates had. They were working with salamanders in Care of Magical
Creatures that day, which they had with the Hufflepuffs. In the flickering light of the flames,
Dorcas’ eyes drifted to the girl standing next to her, Iris Liu, who she’d partnered with in Care of
Magical Creatures for several lessons. Her shiny black hair glimmered softly in the firelight, and
Dorcas found she couldn’t tear her eyes away for a moment. Sensing her gaze, Iris turned to give
Dorcas a smile, and her dark eyes twinkled in the flames. Dorcas returned her smile shakily, even
as her stomach gave a slight lurch, her breath catching as Iris tucked a lock of her hair behind her
ear. Dorcas knew what that meant, even if she didn’t want to know it.

Dorcas tried not to think about it, that moment when her brain had lost all rational thought at the
sight of Iris tucking her hair behind her ear. She absorbed herself in her studies, but when she
wasn’t studying, when she was lying awake at night staring up at the ceiling, she thought about the
other girl’s silky skin and soft, dark hair, her laugh, and her look of concentration as she bent over
the fire in Care of Magical Creatures, prodding it with a stick to keep it from going out.

Iris was a nice girl, Dorcas reasoned. She was a Hufflepuff who came from a wizarding family, but
was nothing but accepting of others’ blood statuses. She was funny and non-judgemental, and for a
short time, Dorcas tried to convince herself that she just admired the other girl. She gave that up
quickly, however, as her thoughts continued to stray toward Iris at inopportune moments. It was a
useless pretense, and Dorcas refused to lie to herself.
Still, Dorcas thought that maybe the feeling would go away if she just avoided the other girl. Guilt
in her heart, she partnered with Hestia instead in their next Care of Magical Creatures lesson,
hoping that she wouldn’t offend Iris, but needing to keep her distance from her. The strategy
worked, at least in part. She stopped thinking of Iris so much over the next few weeks and began to
feel less anxious over the whole issue, better able to concentrate on her schoolwork and her friends.
Still, the thought of boys didn’t make her swoon, either, much as she hoped they would.

Sometimes, Dorcas tried to force herself into liking boys. She studied them, trying to single out
their attractive qualities, but this kind of study would always end with her getting bored, or
observing them doing something disgusting, like picking their nose or burping loudly. Dorcas
always ended this pursuit by wrinkling her nose and looking away.

Unfortunately, the fact that Dorcas had no interest in boys did not prevent them from noticing her.
Hestia Jones had nudged her one day in Charms, stifling a giggle, and whispered in her ear: “You
have an admirer.” Dorcas had followed Hestia’s gaze over to where Peter was sitting alongside
James. The small, mousy boy blushed, caught in the act of staring at Dorcas, and turned his gaze
back to the front of the class, his ears slightly red. Dorcas looked at Hestia in dismay.

“You think Peter fancies me?”

“Of course!” the Argentinian girl replied, sounding surprised, as if Dorcas should have known that
already. “Haven’t you seen him looking at you these last couple of weeks?” Dorcas shook her
head. She’d been utterly clueless about this, too busy with her own confused thoughts and feelings
to notice. “Well, he’s been staring at you an awful lot,” Hestia explained.

“He’s nice,” Dorcas said, shaking her head sadly. “But I just think of him as a friend.”

Hestia gave her a searching look, then shrugged. “Well, you might want to tell him that. Otherwise,
it might become inconvenient for you later on.”

“Yeah,” Dorcas said, sighing. “You’re right.”

Dorcas was a bit flattered by the attention, but she'd never even contemplated thinking about Peter
in that way before. He was sweet, and a good friend to James, Sirius, and Remus, but that was the
extent of her thoughts about him. She knew why he liked her, of course. Dorcas knew she was
pretty—she’d been told that enough by her parents, relatives, and friends over the years. She had
soft brown skin with a few freckles across her nose and cheeks, dark brown eyes, high cheekbones,
and tightly curled brown hair which fell just past her shoulders. Plus, Dorcas was around Peter
often, as she spent a lot of time with James, and she was kind to Peter, so Peter likely found her less
intimidating than Marlene.

That part made sense, alright, but the problem was that Dorcas didn’t have feelings for Peter in
return. Therefore, the next day she sought out James after Arithmancy, a class that Peter didn’t take
with them.

“Hey, Jamie,” Dorcas called out to him as he walked ahead of her, causing him to turn to look at
her curiously. Neither Dorcas nor Marlene used their childhood nickname for James much
anymore. Usually, it slipped out when Marlene was trying to annoy him, or when Dorcas was
nervous.

“What’s up, Dee?” James asked, ruffling his hair as he waited for her to catch up.

“Does Peter fancy me?” Dorcas blurted without preamble as she fell into step beside him. James
smirked at her sideways.
“He’s been a bit obvious about it, hasn’t he? I’m surprised you haven’t brought it up before.”

“You knew and you didn’t tell me?” Dorcas demanded indignantly.

“Of course I didn’t tell you,” James said, looking offended. “He’s my mate, isn’t he? I wasn’t going
to just tell you that he liked you. Principles.”

“Oh, fine, I get that,” Dorcas said, rolling her eyes. “Nevermind. Just please don’t encourage him,
alright? With his feelings for me, I mean. He’s nice, there’s nothing wrong with him or anything,
it’s just that I don’t think of him that way.”

“Sure,” James said carelessly, shrugging. “I never actively encouraged him to ask you out or
anything like that, though Sirius did suggest it for laughs one day. But I get it. Sometimes you just
don’t like someone that way. It is what it is.”

“Yeah,” Dorcas said, suppressing a sigh. What James didn’t know was how much Dorcas would
give to have feelings for any boy. Perhaps if she did, she'd feel less confused. But, then again,
Dorcas reasoned, having feelings for a boy wouldn’t make the memory of her heart quickening
upon seeing Iris Liu tuck a lock of her shiny black hair behind her ear go away. “How’s Sarah?”

“Oh, she kind of dumped me,” James said, ruffling his hair again sheepishly. “She said I was
blowing her off too much to hang out with my mates. Also, I accidentally set her Ancient Runes
homework on fire.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Dorcas said absentmindedly. It took a moment for his words to fully register, and
then she turned to stare at him. “Wait—you set fire to her homework?”

“Accidentally,” James emphasized, grinning. “It’s okay, though. Having a girlfriend is a bit too
much time commitment for me right now. Maybe in a year or two.”

“Maybe in a year or two you’ll be a better boyfriend,” Dorcas said, rolling her eyes. James laughed.

“It ended okay, though,” James said. “She’s really nice, you know? Hopefully, we can still be
friendly.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to if it ended alright,” Dorcas assured him. “I mean, we’re only thirteen,
aren’t we? It’s not that deep.”

“True,” James replied, smiling. “So, if you don’t like Pete, who have you got your eye on, Dee?
Don’t tell me it’s me.”

His voice was teasing, but Dorcas shoved him, making a disgusted face. “That’s never happening,
James,” she said. “Merlin, you’re too arrogant for your own good sometimes. You’re like a brother
to me.”

James laughed. “Good, glad we’re on the same page on that,” he said. They continued to chat
amicably as they made their way back to the Gryffindor common room, James either not noticing
or not commenting on the fact that she’d never answered his question.

Dorcas had a moment where she was on the verge of telling James about everything she'd been
thinking about for the last few weeks, about Iris Liu and her moment of realization, about not
having feelings for any of the boys that her roommates said were cute. She almost opened her
mouth to start, but then he was laughing about something that had happened in Transfiguration on
Monday, and she felt the sudden bravery that’d risen up in her fall again. Before she knew it, they
arrived at the Fat Lady portrait, and she’d missed her chance.
Part of Dorcas really wanted to tell James and her other friends what she was thinking about, but
another part told her to stay silent forever. They loved her, she knew that, but she was afraid it
would change things, no matter if they accepted her or not. She didn’t want to be different from the
rest of them. What if they started treating her like an outsider?

Over the next few weeks, these fears dogged Dorcas, though she hadn’t thought specifically about
Iris in a while. Her biggest fear was of things changing, both within herself and with the people that
she cared about, once they knew this fact about her. Therefore, Dorcas told no one, but her world
changed around her despite her efforts.

....

The first signs of the change emerged in mid-April, when, after weeks of pushing thoughts of her
sexuality out of her head, Dorcas was confronted with a situation that made it impossible to ignore.
It was as if her mind, frustrated with her constant efforts to suppress her attraction to girls, had
decided to get her back in a way that she couldn’t ignore. It found her weakness, picked it open like
a half-healed scab, and, with a triumphant ‘ha!’, schemed up the key to Dorcas’ downfall. Of
course, she knew that if she told James or Lily any of this, they'd both say she was being dramatic,
and maybe she was. At the moment, however, Dorcas hated whatever sinister force had cast its
spell on her, causing her to fall into the trap that, if she was honest with herself, she'd been dreading
from the moment that she realized she liked girls.

It was an old cliché, really, falling for your best friend. At least, that was what Dorcas thought
derisively when she first realized what was happening to her. Not only am I in a situation with no
possible happy ending, she thought, I’m also a cliché.

It was hard to pinpoint exactly when the normal, platonic forms of intimacy she often shared with
Marlene had begun to feel different. Dorcas wasn’t sure when she began to feel a spark of warmth
inside of her when Marlene slung her arm over Dorcas’ shoulder affectionately, or when she'd
climb into her bed to tell her about everything that had happened that day. She just knew that these
days, every time Marlene gave her an affectionate look, or a smile, or hugged her close, Dorcas felt
something blossoming inside her, like a flower turning its petals towards the sun.

Thinking of it now made her shiver, and she wrapped her coat around her more tightly, standing at
the edge of the Great Lake in the gathering darkness. It was a Friday evening at the end of a long
week, during which Dorcas’ professors seemed intent on making her suffer with piles of
homework. She supposed she’d brought it upon herself by taking all but one of the possible
elective classes that started in third year, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret her choice. All the
extra schoolwork was nice because it helped distract her from thoughts of Marlene. She could
write essays, complete assignments, and draw star charts with so much ease, but she couldn’t think
her way out of her feelings for Marlene.

Dorcas was interrupted from her train of thought by the sound of soft footfalls behind her, and even
before she turned, she knew it would be Marlene. Marlene often took the long way back to the
dormitory after Quidditch practice, leaving James and Emmeline—who had made Keeper at the
beginning of the year—and walking around the castle before going in. Sam Thomas, the seventh-
year Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, didn’t usually hold practices on Friday evenings, but Marlene
had told her that Florence O’Connor and Marcus Ellerton, the fifth-year Beaters, had been put in
detention during their usual practice time for starting a fight, so Sam had reluctantly rescheduled.

“Hey, Dee,” Marlene greeted Dorcas, her footfalls stopping just behind her. Dorcas turned, almost
reluctant to look at her best friend. Marlene’s wavy blonde hair was damp, as she'd clearly just
showered in the locker rooms after practice. Her blue eyes shone in the faint light of the setting
sun, and Dorcas could see that her cheeks were still flushed from the exhilaration of flying.

“Hey, Marley,” Dorcas said, smiling softly at her, heart aching.

“Why are you out here? I saw you as I was leaving practice,” Marlene said as she drew nearer. She
was wearing a red hoodie along with a pair of jeans and sneakers. If Dorcas had been wearing what
Marlene was, she knew she'd be freezing, but Marlene ran warmer than she did. Still, Dorcas
sometimes enjoyed the cold.

“I just fancied a walk to clear my head,” Dorcas said truthfully.

“Well, come back up to the castle with me,” Marlene said, smiling mischievously. “James said we
should celebrate the end of a truly soul-crushing week.”

“Oh, and what did James have in mind for this celebration?” Dorcas asked, raising her eyebrows
doubtfully at her friend. Marlene laughed and linked her arm with Dorcas’, leading her back
towards the castle doors.

“No idea, but I’m sure we’ll find out soon,” she said cheerfully.

They found out exactly what James intended when they got back to the Gryffindor common room.
It was loud and boisterous, with Gryffindors of every age excited at the prospect of the weekend
ahead of them. Dorcas, led by Marlene, made her way over to where James sat, laughing with
Sirius in the corner. When he spotted Marlene and Dorcas, he straightened up, grinning at their
approach.

“There you two are!” he exclaimed. “I was wondering where you got off to, Marley.”

“I had to fetch this one from the grounds,” Marlene said, nodding to Dorcas before flopping down
and smirking across at Sirius and James. Dorcas rolled her eyes and sat down next to her.

“Marlene tells me that you have some idea on how to celebrate the end of the week,” Dorcas said.
James grinned.

“That I do,” he said, the mischievous look on his face making Dorcas apprehensive already. “I was
wondering if you could help, actually. It would be nice to get the girls to hang out.”

“Hang out and do what?” Dorcas asked suspiciously. “I’m not sure I want to be the one to convince
them if it’s only going to get us all in trouble, James.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that kind of idea,” James replied, laughing. “I just thought we could have
some fun. Sirius and I nicked some butterbeers from the kitchens, and I thought we could have a
little party in our dorm, play some games, you know?”

“That actually does sound fun,” Dorcas admitted cautiously. “Just promise me that no one will get
injured over the course of the night, and I’ll persuade them to come.”

“Cross my heart,” James said, grinning at her and mockingly crossing his heart. Dorcas smiled.

“Okay,” she said, standing and looking around the common room for her roommates.

“Why didn’t you ask me?” Marlene asked, looking at James with an offended look on her face.
“They’re my roommates, too, you know.”

“Hey, you’re the one I ask when I need someone scared,” James said, smiling at her. “Dee’s who I
ask when I want someone persuaded. She’s more of a people person.”

“I’m a people person!” Marlene said, scowling and shoving him. “Plenty of people like me.”

“Yeah, but you’re not very friendly,” Sirius quipped, grinning at her, too. Marlene shoved him as
well, but Dorcas ignored them as she set off to where Hestia was sitting with Emmeline and Mary,
the three girls laughing together.

“Hey, Dorcas!” Hestia greeted her, as she walked over to them and sat down.

“Hey,” Dorcas replied, smiling. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Emmeline replied, her fingers playing absentmindedly with the Star of David
pendant that hung around her neck, which she'd received as a present for her bat mitzvah the
previous year. “I was just telling them about Sam’s griping at practice about Marcus and Florey.
He’s always asking what he did to deserve being stuck with all of us hellions.”

Dorcas smiled. “He doesn’t really mean it, though, does he?” she asked, casting a glance over to
Sam Thomas, who was sitting by the fire with his seventh-year friends.

“Oh, no,” Emmeline said, smiling over at him as well. “He adores Marcus and Florey, really, and
the rest of us, too. He doesn’t like to admit it, but I think his life would be much more boring
without everyone to look after. Anyway, Marcus and Florence have both been on the team since
their second year, so he’s been like a big brother to them for a while.”

“It seems like he quite likes looking after them,” Mary commented. “I mean, it’s not really his job
to look after his teammates outside of the pitch, as Captain, is it? But he does it anyway.”

“He goes above and beyond,” Emmeline said. “He’s a great Captain.”

“Well, anyway,” Dorcas said, clapping her hands together. “I was sent over here to ask if you all
would join the boys, Marlene, and me in the boys’ dormitory. James and Sirius got butterbeer, and
suggested we play some games and let off a little steam after the week we all had.”

“I’ve never been in the boys’ dormitory before,” Hestia said, looking interested.

“Nobody’s going to get blown up, though, are they?” Emmeline asked, raising her eyebrows
jokingly. “The boys don’t have the best track record.”

“James promised me that no one would be injured over the course of the evening,” Dorcas assured
them.

“That sounds fun, then!” Hestia said.

“Okay,” Emmeline agreed. Dorcas turned to Mary.

“Mary?”

The shorter girl hesitated for a second, then nodded. “Yeah, sure, I’ll come.”

“Great!” Dorcas said, smiling. “Is Lily around?”

“She’s up in the dormitory reading, I think,” Mary said. “But do you really think that she’ll agree
to go? She’s not the biggest fan of James, and she hates Sirius.”

Dorcas shrugged, standing up to go and convince her red-haired friend. “It’s worth a try. She likes
Remus and doesn’t mind Peter. That’s a fifty percent chance in my book.”

Surprisingly, Lily did agree to accompany Dorcas to the boys’ dormitory, with the air of someone
pretending reluctance to disguise her eagerness. Dorcas thought she’d looked a bit lonely, sitting in
their dormitory reading as the other third years all sat together happily downstairs. It was just
another way that she isolated herself from the others, and Dorcas never really knew why. She
guessed it might have to do with Lily’s friend Severus in Slytherin, and she couldn’t help but resent
the other boy, not just for his general air of sliminess, but also the strange way that Lily looked at
Dorcas sometimes, like she wasn’t sure if she trusted her.

Dorcas and Lily met the other girls in the common room before heading up to the boys’ dormitory
together, knocking on the door that had a sign saying “Third Years” over it. Someone inside (likely
James) yelled that they could come in, and Dorcas opened the door to find Marlene, James, Sirius,
Remus, and Peter already lounging on the ground there. It was cleaner than the last time she’d been
up there, so she supposed that they’d made a bit of an effort to tidy up for the impromptu gathering.

“Hey,” Dorcas said, moving to sit down on the ground next to James, who was lying on his
stomach, concentrating hard as he placed a card on the card castle he was building. Dorcas
supposed he was using Exploding Snap cards and was proved right when the card erupted in
flames, causing James to move back hastily as the rest of the cards fell to the ground, a couple
more of them blowing up. Luckily, none of the explosions reached James’ face, and he turned to
the door, smiling and sitting up to greet the newcomers.

“Hi, come on in,” he greeted them, looking to where Emmeline, Hestia, Mary, and Lily were still
hovering at the doorway uncertainly. Hestia didn’t need to be told twice, closing the door behind
them all and immediately taking a seat next to Marlene. Emmeline went to sit by Sirius, Mary next
to Remus, and Lily sat between Dorcas and Peter, completing their little circle. Dorcas noticed that
Lily looked slightly nervous.

“You’ve got to stop playing that game,” Marlene commented to James, gesturing to the singed
cards on the floor. “You’re really bad at it, and I’m tired of you borrowing my pack and then
ruining them.”

James grinned at her. “Practice makes perfect, Marlene,” he said. “Someday, I’ll be a master.”

“You’ve been saying that for as long as I’ve known you,” Marlene said, unimpressed.

“Want a butterbeer?” Sirius asked Emmeline, and she nodded, giving him a grateful smile. He
passed her one, and James began to pass the rest of the drinks around, too. Dorcas opened hers,
took a sip, and smiled at the delicious taste, wiping a bit of foam off her lip.

They just sat around for a while, talking and laughing with no rush to do anything else. Emmeline
did a very convincing impression of Sam Thomas scolding the Quidditch team, which had them all
in stitches, especially after James broke in to imitate Florence firing back in a poor imitation of her
Scottish accent. Their butterbeers didn’t last as long as they might have hoped, but Sirius was soon
passing around sweets they'd also nicked from the kitchens. Sirius handed Remus a chocolate
eclair, grinning at him knowingly, and Remus took it with a small eye roll but looked pleased.

The conversation quickly turned to games they could play. “Wizards Chess is no good for a group
of people,” Emmeline said. “If only I had brought Monopoly, that would have been really fun!”

“What’s Monopoly?” James asked, looking intrigued.

“You see, this is the kind of thing that they should teach in Muggle Studies!” Hestia exclaimed,
laughing. “It’s only the best game in the world, James!”

“It’s a board game,” Lily explained, piping up for the first time that evening. “You get fake money
and stuff and you have to buy property as you roll the dice to move around the board.”

“When you get properties of the same color, you can build houses on them and collect rent when
other people land on them,” Mary continued. “The goal is to get other people to lose all their
money on your properties, and whoever is left last wins.”

“Sounds brilliant,” Sirius said, grinning mischievously, probably at the thought of the
competitiveness the game could bring out in all of them.

“It can get quite heated at times,” Emmeline admitted. “But it’s good fun.”

“But we don’t have the board, so we can’t play that,” Hestia pointed out. “We have to find
something else.”

“What about Truth or Dare?” Sirius suggested, a mischievous look on his face. Dorcas laughed,
rolling her eyes. Of course Sirius would suggest that game, he lived for the drama but would likely
only pick dare for himself. The other Gryffindors put up little resistance, some of them rolling their
eyes like Dorcas and protesting slightly, but it was clear that they were all excited at the prospect.

James went first, of course, and Emmeline, sitting across from him, asked him: “Truth or Dare?”
James, as Dorcas knew he would, picked dare, and the group brainstormed together for a moment.

“Ok, ok,” Emmeline finally said, putting her hand up to quieten them. “James, I dare you to
serenade someone in this room in the most ridiculous way that you can possibly think of.”

James laughed and looked around the circle. His eyes landed on Remus, and he grinned, making
Remus sigh in exasperation. Dramatically, James lifted himself to his feet and made his way over
to Remus, pretending he was holding a microphone in his hand as he began to sing “Love Me Do”
by The Beatles, making dramatic hand gestures and facial expressions as he serenaded Remus, who
began to laugh. The whole group was in hysterics by the time he finished, bowing and resuming
his seat. Even Lily was laughing, looking much more at ease than she had earlier. Maybe she'd
liked the fact that James had sung a Beatles song, Dorcas thought. She knew Lily was a Beatles
fan, as she sometimes slept in an oversized band t-shirt with their name on it.

They proceeded around the circle, moving from the perpetual ‘dare’ choosers—James, Sirius, and
Marlene—to Hestia, Remus, Mary, and Emmeline, who all picked ‘truth.’ Most of the truth
questions were pretty standard of young people their age: Who do you fancy? Have you kissed
anyone yet? What’s a secret you’ve never told anyone before? Hestia asked Emmeline who she
thought the most attractive professor at the school was, which started a round of laughter.
Emmeline rolled around in laughter for a moment before seeming to take the question very
seriously, then deciding that it logically must be Professor Cyprus, who taught Astronomy, because
he was the youngest of all of their professors.

When the circle got all the way back around to Dorcas, she decided uncharacteristically on ‘dare.’
She'd usually pick ‘truth,’ but she felt a bit wary about what her friends might ask her, and didn’t
want to have to lie if it went in a dangerous direction. They all considered her for a moment, trying
to think up a good dare that hadn’t already been used, but it was Hestia who finally piped up.

“I dare you to kiss someone in this room,” she said, smiling mischievously. Everyone sat up a bit
straighter, then. they'd yet to go down this particular path with dares, but it was an intriguing one.
Only a few of them had even had their first kisses yet. Dorcas swallowed nervously, her cheeks
suddenly feeling very hot.

“Who—” she cleared her throat, which felt dry, even as her palms began to sweat. She started to rub
tiny circles with her thumb onto her left palm. “Who do I kiss?”

“Up to you,” Hestia said, smirking widely across at her friend. Dorcas’ eyes widened, her heart
beating fast as she looked around at the group, who were all looking expectantly back at her, eager
for her decision. Peter was blushing, not meeting her eyes when they passed over him, and Dorcas
suddenly remembered about Peter fancying her, something she’d been too busy to worry about in a
while.

Dorcas’ breath seemed to catch in her throat as her eyes flitted around her gathered housemates,
making it feel hard to inhale and exhale. Of course, Dorcas knew who she would’ve liked to kiss,
but that was precisely why she couldn’t pick Marlene. Even if she could play it off as a joke, say
she was most comfortable kissing her friend because of their closeness, it would mean something
different to Dorcas than it would to Marlene, and she couldn’t have that. She couldn’t give herself
false hope, or allow herself to kiss Marlene in a game when she really wanted it to be real. It would
be a stupid choice, she knew. Why, then, was she so tempted to make it?

“I can’t just pick who to kiss,” Dorcas protested, her voice catching nervously as she tried to look at
anyone but Marlene. As she looked around at them, she knew there was no right answer. She
couldn’t kiss a girl, as it would bring up awkward questions and speculations that she’d already
decided she wasn’t ready for, but kissing any of the boys would make the whole group think that
she fancied them, and she couldn’t stand that prospect, either. Of course, she supposed, that
embarrassment she could endure as long as they didn’t like her back, so Peter was out of the
question. It would be cruel to kiss him when she had no feelings for him, and Dorcas wouldn’t do
that. But between Remus, James, and Sirius, there was no easy choice, either. She didn’t want to
kiss any of them.

Just then, Mary shifted forward, her movement catching Dorcas’ eye. Mary had been observing
Dorcas in her quiet way, and she seemed to have seen Dorcas’ blind panic at the prospect of having
to choose who to kiss.

“This is ridiculous,” Mary said, letting out a short laugh. Grabbing her empty butterbeer bottle, she
placed it down in the middle of the circle, then leaned back. “If the game is going to go down that
road, we might as well transition to another one.”

“Spin the Bottle?” Hestia asked, her face lighting up with interest at the prospect, effectively taking
the attention off of Dorcas. Mary nodded, smirking slightly, an expression Dorcas had never seen
on her face before.

A murmur of interest went around the group, some looking excited, some apprehensive. Most of
them readily agreed, sitting up or rearranging their positions so that they could observe the people
around them better.

“Fine,” Lily conceded, not quite suppressing her smile. “As long as I don’t have to kiss him,” she
added, pointing her finger at Sirius.

“Trust me, I have no desire to kiss you, either,” Sirius replied, rolling his eyes and snorting.

“Okay,” Mary said, clearly trying to head off a fight before it happened. “If either of your bottles
land on the other one, you get to spin again. Happy?”

“Yes,” Sirius and Lily said in unison, but both of them leaned forward, making it clear that they
were both just as interested in the game as the others.

“Since it was Dorcas’ dare, she can spin first,” Mary said diplomatically, gesturing to the bottle.
“Whoever it lands on, she has to kiss.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, and Dorcas looked around nervously before leaning forward on her
knees to give the bottle a good spin. It was better, though, to kiss whoever the bottle landed on
rather than having to pick the person herself. The bottle spun in a full circle several times before
slowing, everyone’s gazes intent on it as it spun to a stop, pointing squarely at Sirius.

Dorcas swallowed nervously, then shrugged at Sirius, a rueful expression on her face. He grinned
back, sending her a joking wink. “Pucker up, Meadowes,” he said, before lifting himself up onto
his knees and scooting to the middle of the circle. For a split-second, they met each other’s gazes
awkwardly, but Dorcas reminded herself that it was just Sirius, and she rolled her eyes, smiling,
before leaning forward to press a quick kiss to his lips.

His lips were soft and warm, not dry or chapped, which she was grateful for, but when Dorcas
pulled back, she registered that she'd felt very little as his lips pressed to hers. It was a strange
feeling, getting that close to another person’s face, but other than that strange sensation of
closeness, the brief pressure on her lips didn’t make much of an impression on Dorcas. She wasn’t
sure if this should upset her or not, the lack of feeling, but she resolved not to think too hard about
it. Sirius sent her a little smirk, his cheeks tinged ever so slightly pink, then moved back to where
he'd been sitting, and she did the same. All things considered, it could have been worse, Dorcas
thought. She might have even chosen Sirius to kiss out of the three boys, as he wasn’t one to take
things very seriously—no pun intended.

“Who’s next?” Dorcas asked, smiling pleasantly around the circle, ready for everyone’s eyes to
leave her.

Hestia shrugged, grinning widely. “Pick a direction,” she said. Dorcas considered for a moment,
then pointed toward her right, at Lily. At least her friend would get it out of the way, she reasoned.
James, on her left, pouted slightly, but looked on eagerly as Lily shrugged, leaning forward to spin
the bottle. After a few seconds, it slowed to a stop, the top pointing at none other than James
himself. James let out a laugh, and Lily rolled her eyes but turned to face him. James, a cocky
expression on his face, briefly ruffled his hair with one hand before moving forward and kissing
her confidently.

Dorcas noted that the kiss was a bit longer than her and Sirius’, but she was unsure if it just looked
like James knew what he was doing because of his confidence, or because he’d already had his first
kiss with Sarah. Either way, when the two parted, James sent Lily a careless wink and she rolled
her eyes, but her cheeks were slightly flushed nonetheless as she resumed her spot beside Dorcas.
Next was Peter, and his bottle landed on Hestia, who smiled at him and moved to the center of the
circle to kiss him. He blushed hard as he leaned forward to peck her lips, even his ears going red.
Sirius let out a wolf whistle as they moved apart, and everyone laughed. After that, the ice was
sufficiently broken, and the group cheered each pair on as they moved into the circle.

Sirius, next, spun and landed on Marlene, and Dorcas knew a heavy pang of jealousy as she
watched Marlene lean forward to kiss Sirius, her frizzy blonde hair falling in front of her face like a
curtain separating their two lips from Dorcas’ gaze. As she gazed on enviously, she noticed Remus’
expression of resignation from across the circle. When the two pulled apart, Dorcas thought she
might have imagined it, as Remus’ face went back to his normal look of casual interest, but she
could have sworn there was still something off in his blue eyes.

Next up, Emmeline was the first to land on someone of her same gender, as her bottle stopped on
 Hestia. There was an outbreak of laughter, and Emmeline raised her eyebrows to Hestia, who
scooted forward, grinning widely at her friend. Emmeline rolled her eyes, but complied as well,
and, uncharacteristically, gave Hestia a large, joking wink after they separated, leading to more
laughter.

Around the circle they went, and Dorcas watched as Remus kissed Mary, then Mary kissed Lily.
She was called back into the circle again when it was Hestia’s turn to spin the bottle, and it landed
on her. Dorcas tried not to blush as Hestia’s lips met hers. Hestia’s lips were soft and tasted of
cherries, which Dorcas assumed must be the flavor of her lip balm. Close to the other girl, she
smelled the sweet smell of her shampoo and what might be perfume—or perhaps just body wash—
a scent that she was used to around the dormitory, but had never been this near before. She only
realized that she’d closed her eyes when Hestia pulled back, and they fluttered open again. Hestia
smiled brightly back at her, her cheeks rosy as ever, and Dorcas returned the smile as sincerely as
she could.

She barely felt any jealousy when she saw Marlene kiss Peter next, so preoccupied as she was in
her thoughts about her kiss with Hestia. She did manage to register the irony, however, of seeing
Marlene, who Dorcas fancied, kiss Peter, who fancied Dorcas. Still, it was merely a blip on her
radar as she searched her mind, trying to figure out how she'd felt about her second kiss.

It was neat, Dorcas thought, that she got to compare the effects of kissing a girl and a boy so close
together. The results were quite clear. She’d liked her kiss with Hestia, chaste as it’d been. She
didn’t like Hestia as more than a friend, she knew, but she'd rather enjoyed the kiss, if she let
herself think about it. It was sweet, it made her heart beat faster, and it felt natural to her. The kiss
with Sirius had been alright, but it hadn’t made her feel anything. Comparably to Hestia, though,
she considered Sirius a good friend. The only real thing that could have made a difference in how
she felt about the kiss was their gender.

What this meant, Dorcas thought as she watched James laughingly tell Peter to pucker up as his
bottle spun to land on his friend, was unable to be refuted at this point. Dorcas liked girls. And,
really, was it so bad? Girls were pretty, they smelled good, and some of them wore sweet-tasting
chapstick like Hestia did. They had soft skin and silky hair, and their eyes twinkled like magic
sometimes in the light of a fire. Then she looked over to Marlene, who was laughing and cheering
as Peter turned beet red, drawing back from James, who had a wide smirk on his face, and Dorcas
remembered that Marlene was her best friend.

Yes, she thought sadly, it really is that bad. It really is that bad if I have to watch her and want her
and never be able to show it.

Chapter End Notes

Just a quick note to say that this is only Dorcas’ experience in figuring out that she’s a
lesbian. People come to the realization of being gay in all different ways (you’ll see a
variety of these later in the fic lol). Honestly, I wish it’d been that easy for me to come
to the logical conclusion as it was for Dorcas, despite it of course being super difficult
for her to deal with the realization and how she feels about it.
 1974: Selfish

The frosty dawns of March and April melted into the dewy mornings of May, where the grass on
the Hogwarts grounds sparkled with drops of water. Given her way, however, Emmeline would not
have been awake to see the dew, no matter how pretty it looked in the morning light. Unlike some
of her dormmates, Emmeline Vance was decidedly not a morning person, and she was very
displeased each time that Marlene was forced to rouse her. The sun was barely even up above the
trees of the Forbidden Forest that morning when Marlene prodded Emmeline, who groaned and
rolled over onto her stomach, trying to hide her face.

“Five more minutes,” she said groggily. Marlene huffed out a quiet laugh, then Emmeline felt her
pillow being pulled out from under her head. She sat up, rubbing her eyes and glaring at her
roommate.

“Seriously, Marley?”

“Keep your voice down,” Marlene said, a smile on her face as she held Emmeline’s pillow up and
out of the other girl’s reach. “And yes, seriously, you have to get ready for Quidditch practice,
Em.”

“Ughh,” Emmeline groaned, frowning and slipping out of bed, Marlene throwing her pillow back
down. Emmeline winced as she put her feet down on the floor, the hardwood cold under her bare
skin. Marlene grinned, then turned back towards her own bed, pouring herself some water from the
jug that was on her bedside table.

“You’d better get ready quickly,” Marlene said as she sipped her water, checking her watch. “We
have to be down at the Quidditch Pitch in fifteen minutes.”

“Why didn’t you wake me sooner, then?” Emmeline grumbled.

“And be treated to your cheery morning attitude for longer than I needed to be? No thanks.”

“Shut uuup,” Mary grumbled blearily from her own bed, the curtains still drawn around it.
Emmeline managed a small smile as she went into the bathroom. Mary was even less of a morning
person than Emmeline, if such a thing were possible. Seven minutes later, Emmeline had dressed,
brushed her teeth, and thrown her long hair into a messy ponytail. Her hair had changed greatly
since the beginning of puberty, darkening from her childhood dirty blonde to a light brown, and
becoming wavier. She still wasn’t sure quite what to do with it, so she tied it out of her face most of
the time.

Marlene, who had fidgeted impatiently near the door of their dormitory while Emmeline was
getting ready, led the way down the dormitory staircase eagerly. They found James waiting for
them in the common room. He grinned at the sight of them, and they set off at a brisk pace
together.

“We’re cutting it close,” James remarked. “I already saw Florey, Marcus, and Chris head towards
the pitch.”

“Not Sam?” Marlene asked.

“Knowing Sam, he’s probably been there all night,” James joked.

“Yeah, well, Em’s a horror in the mornings,” Marlene said cheerfully. “I didn’t want to wake her
any sooner than I had to.”

“I’m better than Mary,” Emmeline grumbled. “We’re lucky she didn’t chuck something at us for
talking. Anyway, not everyone can be freakish morning people like the two of you.”

James laughed. “Trust me, I am the only morning person in my dormitory,” he said. “If I tried to
get Remus up before at least eight, I’m convinced he’d conspire to murder me in my sleep the
following night.”

“He could do it, too,” Marlene said, grinning. “Smother you with your pillow or something.”

“Maybe he’d force-feed me whatever it is he managed to brew in Potions on Tuesday,” James said,
shuddering. Emmeline cracked a smile, thinking of the ominously gurgling, murky brown
concoction that Remus had come up with in their last Potions lesson, which had emitted rank fumes
until Slughorn vanished it, to the relief of all.

“Maybe I’ll force-feed that to Sam for making us have Quidditch practice at six thirty in the
morning,” Emmeline said darkly. James and Marlene laughed, and they headed finally into the
changing room next to the pitch, where the rest of their teammates were waiting. Quickly,
Emmeline walked over to her locker and pulled on her Quidditch jersey, which spelled out her
name on the back in gold lettering. She turned to face Sam Thomas, who had begun to give them
his usual pre-practice tactical talk.

Sam was both the tallest and oldest person on the Quidditch team. He stood over six feet tall and
had dark brown skin and curly, dark brown hair in an afro on his head. He was in his final year at
Hogwarts, meaning that they’d need a new Quidditch Captain the following term. It was a shame,
because, in Emmeline’s opinion, Sam was pretty spectacular at his job.

“So, we all know that Hufflepuff beat Slytherin in their match on Saturday,” Sam started. “That’s
good news for us, since we beat both teams when we played them earlier this year, but Ravenclaw
also beat both, so we have to train hard for our match against them in two weeks. I think we should
focus on offensive ploys for the Chasers, as we know that Ravenclaw is best at defensive tactics.
Emmeline, you should practice your double eight loops around the goalposts, since the Ravenclaw
Chasers pass very quickly to each other, which can be tricky. Marlene, practice rolls, but for
heaven’s sake, hang on this time. We don’t need another Hospital Wing visit.”

“I was trying to see how long I could fly upside down without holding on with my hands,” Marlene
said, giving Sam a cheeky grin. Sam shook his head exasperatedly.

“Well, now you know the answer, so you don’t have to try again,” he said. Emmeline thought that
his voice contained a bit less than his usual verve as he told Marlene off, and she looked over at
James, whose eyebrows were raised slightly. Clearly, he’d noticed it, too.

“Let’s go, everyone,” Sam said, clapping his hands together and leading them out onto the pitch.
Emmeline grasped her broom and followed him into the early morning light. When Emmeline
pushed off from the ground and flew towards the goalposts, she smiled, feeling her tiredness wash
away. There was nothing like flying to wake her up.

Emmeline had known she loved Quidditch the first time she’d played the role of Keeper with her
cousins in the countryside. There was a strange feeling of calm that always washed over her when
she saw the Chasers flying towards her and honed in on the Quaffle. The world narrowed to only
her and them, and in these moments, nothing else mattered. Luckily for Emmeline, Sam had
chosen her above other, older players when she’d tried out for the Gryffindor team that fall, and she
hoped she hadn’t given him any reason to regret his choice since.
She’d become very good, by then, at predicting what moves the Gryffindor Chasers would use on
her. James, in particular, was quite easy to read.

“Dammit!” he exclaimed as Emmeline caught the Quaffle he’d thrown towards her middle goal
easily. “I thought I had you that time!”

“I told you!” Emmeline said, laughing and tossing it back to him. “You need to control your facial
expressions, and where you’re looking. It was obvious where you were aiming.”

“Yeah, yeah,” James said, shaking his head and grinning as he tossed the Quaffle back to
Christopher, who sped off back to the other end of the pitch, James right behind him. Sam
followed, too, but Emmeline noticed again that he seemed off. His posture on the broom was stiffer
than usual. For the rest of practice, Emmeline took note of Sam’s demeanor, and she was alarmed
to observe that he continued to look rather down for the whole hour and a half. When James
practically launched himself off of his broom, leaving him hanging from it with one hand, Sam
barely even scolded him. Instead, he just helped him back on and retrieved the Quaffle from the
ground.

When practice was over at eight, they all returned to the locker rooms to shower and change, and
Emmeline saw that Sam had been accosted by Florence, though he was clearly trying to shake her
off, a weary expression on his face. Sighing, Emmeline left the locker room to go up to breakfast,
leaving the rest of the team still getting ready. She knew that Marlene and James always took
longer than her, so she’d catch up with them later at breakfast. First, she dropped off her Quidditch
bag in her dormitory, then headed down to the Great Hall, where Hestia and Mary were already
eating.

“How was practice?” Mary asked as Emmeline sat down.

“It was good,” Emmeline said, pulling a jug of pumpkin juice towards her and pouring herself a
glass. “Sam was a bit off, though.”

“Why?” Hestia asked, only looking mildly curious.

Emmeline knew that neither Hestia nor Mary liked Quidditch quite as much as Emmeline did.
Hestia, who had grown up with two wizarding parents, had both gone to games and listened to
them on her radio from a young age, but while she enjoyed watching Quidditch, she had little
interest in playing it. Mary, who was Muggle-born, had never heard of Quidditch until coming to
Hogwarts, and though she’d liked the flying lessons in first year and taking the occasional joy-ride
on Emmeline’s broom, she was rather confused by all the rules. Both girls supported Emmeline
avidly, however, turning up to her games with painted faces and cheering enthusiastically for her,
which Emmeline appreciated a great deal.

“I’m not sure,” Emmeline said, beginning to serve herself eggs and toast. “He’s always a bit
grouchy, that’s just Sam, and it’s usually in a fond way, because he has to tell Florence and the
others off so much. Today he just seemed a bit deflated. He barely even told James off for this
ridiculous stunt he pulled that left him hanging one-handed off his broom.”

“Talking about Sam?” James asked just then, sliding into the spot on the bench beside Emmeline,
his hair still damp from the showers. Marlene followed him, sitting next to Hestia.

“I was just saying he seemed off this morning,” Emmeline responded. “What do you think that’s
about?”

“Florey told Marlene—” James said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “—that Sam’s pining for
some Muggle girl back home, and that’s why he’s brooding today.”

“He doesn’t seem broody,” Emmeline said, glancing down the table towards Sam, who had just
gone to sit with his seventh-year friends. “He seems sad.”

“Yeah, he’s not himself,” James agreed rather carelessly, beginning to serve himself breakfast, “I
hoped that stunt with the broom might snap him out of it. I know he always likes giving us a good
telling-off.”

“Oh, don’t act like you did that on purpose,” Marlene said, giving James a mocking look. “That
was just your usual idiocy.”

Before James could retort, Emmeline turned to Marlene, intent on the earlier topic of conversation.
“So what did Florence tell you about Sam?”

“She didn’t say much,” Marlene said, shrugging and pulling a platter of food towards her. “Just that
he fancies a girl back home but he can’t tell her he’s magical, so he’s all twisted up inside about it.”

“That sucks,” Emmeline said, looking sympathetically down toward Sam. Marlene nodded,
beginning to shovel food into her mouth.

“Florey told him he should just ask her out and tell her he’s a wizard if he’s going to tear himself
up about it,” Marlene continued, her voice somewhat muffled by her breakfast. She swallowed a
large mouthful and rolled her eyes. “But you know Sam, he’s a stickler for the rules.”

“The Statute of Secrecy isn’t just some dumb school rule, Marlene,” Emmeline said, giving her
friend an incredulous look.

“Yes, mam,” Marlene said sarcastically. “But he’s known this girl forever, apparently. How can
you keep a secret from someone for that long, anyway?”

“Sometimes keeping things from people is better for them,” Mary piped up. “None of my Muggle
friends back home know I’m a witch, and I know that telling them wouldn’t be in their best
interest.”

“Still, it must be hard to keep it from them,” Emmeline said, glancing at Mary.

Mary shrugged. “Not very, to be honest. My life is pretty non-magical when I’m home for the
holidays anyway. It’ll be harder when I graduate and get a job, though, I bet. Boarding school
Muggles understand, but not wizarding jobs. Maybe that’s why Sam’s thinking more about it now.
He’s about to graduate.”

“Yeah, I guess people are used to talking about their jobs with their friends,” Hestia said
contemplatively. “I’d get suspicious if someone refused to give details on what they do.”

“Poor Sam,” Emmeline said, casting another glance towards her Quidditch Captain at the end of
the Gryffindor table.

“Oh, I know that look,” Hestia said, scrutinizing her friend suspiciously. “No meddling, Em.
There’s nothing you can do.”

“I’m not going to meddle,” Emmeline said, turning back to her friends and giving Hestia an
offended look. “I just wish there was something I could do. He looks so sad.”

“You’re compulsive,” Hestia said, pointing her spoon at Emmeline accusingly. “You can’t always
solve other people’s problems.”

“Shut up,” Emmeline said, rolling her eyes. “I’m not compulsive.”

“Oh, really?” Marlene broke in, grinning. “Then why are you always the first person to offer
anyone your notes when they miss a class?”

“Because it’s a nice thing to do, Marlene,” Emmeline retorted, raising her eyebrows. “What’s
wrong with—”

“And you tidy up my corner of the room when I’m not looking,” Marlene said, her smile growing
wider.

“I just thought that you might need some—”

“And you’re always trying to get involved in other people’s fights,” Hestia broke in, exchanging a
smirk with Marlene.

“When have I—”

“Evans literally almost hexed you the other day when you got between her and Sirius,” James said,
grinning slightly at what he clearly considered an amusing memory.

“And now you’re worrying over our poor, pining Quidditch Captain instead of eating your
breakfast,” Marlene concluded, a satisfied look on her face.

“So what?” Emmeline asked, a mutinous look on her face. “I like to take care of other people,
what’s wrong with that?”

“The problem is you forget to take care of yourself, Em,” Hestia replied, smiling slightly at the
look of mild outrage on her friend’s face as her food lay abandoned on her plate. “Have you
forgotten that we’re teenagers? We’re supposed to be selfish, that’s the whole teenage thing.”

“Being selfish isn’t a good thing, Tia.”

“Sometimes you have to be selfish, Em,” Hestia said, shaking her head incredulously. “In fact,
being completely selfless is neither natural nor good for you.”

“She’s got a point,” James broke in, smiling. “You can’t live your life if you’re always thinking
about other people all the time.”

“I take care of myself,” Emmeline said, crossing her arms. “And I don’t just think about others all
the time.”

“Prove it,” Hestia said, smiling. “Go two weeks without your compulsive selfless acts.”

“I’m not going to stop doing nice things for people,” Emmeline protested, her eyes widening. “You
can’t seriously be asking—”

“We’ll all enforce it,” Hestia said, grinning mischievously. She turned to the rest of the group. “If
anyone sees her being compulsive, stop her by any means you deem necessary.”

“Oh Merlin,” Emmeline said, looking at Hestia in horror. “Don’t tell them that. You do realize
who you’re talking to, right?” she said, gesturing towards Marlene and James, who had identical
evil grins on their faces.
“Maybe they’ll motivate you,” Hestia said, grinning in what Emmeline considered an
unnecessarily crafty manner. Emmeline groaned, shook her head, and turned her attention back to
her breakfast. The eggs lay cold upon her plate, and she sighed before digging into them, knowing
that the bell was likely to ring soon, and she had to eat something before History of Magic.

....

Over the course of the next few weeks, Hestia, James, and Marlene thoroughly annoyed Emmeline
by preventing her random acts of selflessness. They did this by getting in her way every time she
tried to do something which they termed “compulsive.”

When she tried to clean the other girls’ areas in the dormitory, Marlene would shoo her away,
making her sit on her bed as she watched Marlene do it herself, Emmeline’s right eye twitching
slightly as Marlene stuffed random pages of her notes haphazardly into the drawer of her night
table. When Mary came down with a cold and missed Astronomy one week, Hestia stepped in
front of Emmeline when she tried to offer Mary her notes, presenting the other girl with her own.

“Oh, come on, she doesn’t want your notes, Tia,” Emmeline said indignantly. “Your handwriting
sucks.”

“I made an extra effort to make it neat this time,” Hestia said, smiling satisfiedly at the offended
look on Emmeline’s face as she gazed down at the notes, which were indeed much neater than
normal. “And I know that you like to go over your Astronomy notes on Thursday afternoons,
which you wouldn’t be able to do if Mary had them, now would you?”

Emmeline glared at her friend, indignant at her extremely inconvenient act of consideration. Mary
shrugged and laughed, taking Hestia’s notes from her outstretched hand.

“Thanks, Tia,” she said. “I’m staying out of this.”

Mary was one of the only people staying out of it, however. Hestia had recruited both Dorcas and
Lily to her cause, and now whenever someone asked for anything in the dorm, Emmeline was met
with a chorus of “You stay there,” before she could even move to get up.

Emmeline resentfully kept her silence now. It was true that she was busy as they came up to exam
time, as well as the end of the Quidditch season, and their last game against Ravenclaw looming.
She practiced harder than ever and tried to be grateful to her friends for taking up the slack. Still, it
felt strange.

....

In the last week of May, the final game of the season, Ravenclaw vs. Gryffindor, was finally upon
them, and, as usual, excitement was high among the Gryffindors. As with her last two games,
Emmeline’s nerves began to build up at the beginning of the week and climaxed on the morning of
the game. It was sunny and clear, not a cloud to be seen in the sky, which would be good for
visibility for both teams.

After she got ready to go down to breakfast, Emmeline stared at her reflection in the bathroom
mirror for a very long time, her own dark brown eyes staring back at her, looking larger in her face
than usual. Her hand went to the pendant around her neck, her fingers tracing over the lines of the
six-pointed star carefully, something that always soothed her. Finally, she took a deep breath and
left the bathroom, grabbing her broom, hoisting it over her shoulder, and walking down to the
Great Hall.
The hall was full and buzzing with noise by the time she got there, with members of different
houses dashing across the hall to talk to their friends about the upcoming match. When Emmeline
went over to join Mary and Hestia, Miranda Ellerton was sitting talking with them. Miranda was a
short, Black girl from Ravenclaw who was one of Mary’s friends, and sometimes sat with them in
lessons. She was very nice, especially talented at Herbology, and even managed to stay awake
during History of Magic, which was a practically superhuman feat—according to most of the
Gryffindor third years, at least.

“Hey, Em,” Miranda greeted her in a friendly way, giving her a smile. Emmeline smiled back and
sat down across from her.

“Hey, Miranda,” she greeted the Ravenclaw girl. “How are you?”

“Good,” Miranda replied, smiling. “Excited for the match. Good luck, by the way. Of course, I’m
supporting Ravenclaw, so don’t tell anyone I said that.”

Emmeline laughed a little. “Is that what you told Marcus?” Marcus Ellerton, one of the Gryffindor
team’s Beaters, was Miranda’s older brother.

Miranda laughed, sweeping her long dark hair, which was braided into cornrows, behind her left
shoulder. “I told Marcus that I promised Cassie Philips ten galleons if she knocked him off his
broom today, actually,” she said, giving the rest of the girls a mischievous smile. Mary and Hestia
laughed, while Emmeline gave Miranda an amused smile.

“I’m sure he’ll be on his guard, then,” Hestia joked, and Miranda smiled, standing up from the
table.

“I should go. Don’t want to be seen fraternizing with the enemy for too long,” she said, giving
them a playful wink before turning to go sit with her friends at the Ravenclaw table.

“How are you feeling?” Mary asked, giving Emmeline a sympathetic look when Miranda was
gone. Emmeline shrugged, pulling a bowl of porridge towards her.

“I’m alright,” she lied, her stomach churning.

“You’re going to do great,” Hestia reassured her, giving her arm a slight squeeze. “You’re always
nervous, and you always do great anyway, remember?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Emmeline said, giving them a small smile. She glanced down at her porridge,
then took up her spoon. No matter how repellant eating sounded at the moment, she needed to have
something in her stomach before going out onto the pitch. The oatmeal tasted like glue in her
mouth, however, despite the abundance of cinnamon she always put in it. After she was finished,
she gulped down pumpkin juice to try to dissipate the rather slimy feeling in her throat.

Much sooner than she’d anticipated, Sam stood up at the end of the table, looking down at his
team. “Time to get to the locker rooms,” he said, his voice carrying down towards them.
Emmeline’s teammates stood, and she followed them, giving a last smile—which ended up as more
of a grimace—to Mary and Hestia, who gave her reassuring smiles in return and wished her luck.

Emmeline trailed at the back of the group of Gryffindor players, all dressed in their red and gold
Quidditch uniforms as they headed down to the pitch. Florence was talking boisterously to Marcus,
Marlene and James listening in eagerly and breaking into the conversation once in a while to
comment. Christopher Campbell, their third Chaser, who was a fifth year just like Marcus and
Florence, walked quietly alongside Emmeline at the back. Sam, at the front of their little
procession, was also quiet, his eyes trained steadily on the corridor in front of him as they headed
down to the pitch.

Arriving in the locker rooms, the team pulled their Quidditch robes from their lockers and put them
on over their uniforms, grabbing bats and gloves, chatting with one another or readying themselves
in silence, as Emmeline was. They all stopped when Sam cleared his throat, however, and turned to
listen to his pre-match speech. This one was short and sweet.

“We all know what we have to do today,” Sam began, looking around at each one of them with
intensity in his gaze, his eyes locking on each of theirs in turn. “We’re here to play our hardest, to
try our best, and to either win or go down with one hell of a fight. I know all of you are ready, and I
know you all have it in you. I’m proud of everyone on this team, and I’m confident that whatever
happens out there, there’ll be nothing that I would have done differently in the last few weeks. Now
let’s go out there and show them that Gryffindors play to win!”

The team yelled in appreciation and began to gather their equipment, moving out through the doors
towards the pitch. Emmeline, her heart beating fast and her head suddenly feeling a bit light, put
her hand out to brace herself on the locker, then slid down to sit on one of the benches.

“Em,” Marlene’s voice said, seemingly from far away, “you okay?” Emmeline didn’t reply, just
closed her eyes, her breathing coming out quickly. She thought she heard some of her other
teammates make noises of concern, but a voice broke over all of them.

“You lot go wait outside the door. I’ll take care of her.”

A moment later, Emmeline felt a weight drop onto the bench beside her, and a warm hand on her
shoulder. She opened her eyes and looked up to see Sam sitting next to her, looking down at her in
concern. She closed her eyes again, looking away from him and trying to slow her breathing.

“Just match your breaths to mine, alright?” Sam said softly, his voice calm. She nodded, listening
as he began to breathe slowly and audibly, in and out. Emmeline copied him, and, after a moment,
she felt her heartbeat calm slightly.

“I’ll be okay in a minute,” she said weakly, trying to reassure herself as much as him.

“I know you will be,” Sam said. There was a short pause, then Emmeline spoke again, the words
rushing out of her almost against her will.

“I’m just nervous,” she said quickly, her heart beating faster again as she thought about it. “I’m
afraid of letting everyone down.”

There was a moment of silence where Emmeline cursed herself for saying anything. This was her
Captain, her seventh-year Quidditch Captain who she’d never said anything to that didn’t relate to
Quidditch before. She should’ve kept her thoughts to herself.

“I know what you mean,” Sam said. His voice was quiet, thoughtful, and Emmeline opened her
eyes to look at him curiously. The expression on his face was conflicted, his brow furrowed
slightly. “I used to get nervous before games a lot, too, you know. It’s hard to feel like you have a
responsibility to other people—to your teammates, to your house—to play well. It’s a lot of
pressure. It got worse when I became Captain, too.”

“Really?” Emmeline asked, startled out of her panic slightly, her eyes focused on his face. He met
her eyes and smiled, nodding.

“Really,” he said. “But you know what changed it for me?” She shook her head, her dark brown
eyes trained on his.

“I realized that I don’t play for my teammates, or for Gryffindor,” he said. “I play Quidditch
because I love it. I play it for me.”

She stared at him, and he smiled at the startled look on her face. “You’re a great Keeper,
Emmeline, the best I tried out. I didn’t let you on the team because you’re James or Marlene’s
friend. I let you on because you were the best. You know that, don’t you?”

Emmeline let out a small, nervous laugh. “I guess so.”

“I’m guessing, though, that you didn’t try out for the team because you thought you owed it to
someone else, or to your housemates. You tried out because you loved Quidditch and you wanted
to play. Am I right?”

“Yeah, I suppose you are,” Emmeline admitted. Her breath slowed further, the weight on her chest
lifting.

“Well, that’s true for all of the rest of us out there as well. We’re playing for Gryffindor, yes, but
mostly we’re playing for ourselves, and we’re playing because we love the game. And if we win,
that’s great, and if we don’t, we had a hell of a time trying, anyway. So when you go out there,
don’t play for anyone but yourself. Don’t do it for us, do it because you love it. Otherwise, it’s not
worth it. Okay?”

“Okay,” Emmeline agreed, taking a deep breath and feeling relieved, as she realized that her heart
rate, too, had returned to normal. Sam gave her a warm smile and stood up, holding out his hand to
her. She took it, letting him pull her to her feet before following him towards the door, opening it to
join their teammates who were waiting for them.

“You okay?” James asked, looking slightly concerned beside Marlene. Emmeline gave them a
smile, feeling more confident than she’d ever felt before another Quidditch match.

“Yeah, I’m good now,” Emmeline said, shouldering her broom and following her teammates as
they all walked out onto the pitch. When the whistle was blown, and she flew up to Gryffindor’s
goals, turning to look at the oncoming Chasers, she felt the sense of calm certainty return to her at
last.

....

The Gryffindor victory over Ravenclaw that day wasn’t easily won. It involved several fouls,
James breaking his wrist, and Christopher almost knocking the Ravenclaw Keeper off his broom
with the force of the Quaffle as he launched it toward the goalposts.

It turned out that Miranda might really have been serious about her promise to Cassie Philips, as
the fourth-year Ravenclaw Beater did indeed almost knock Marcus off his broom midway through
the match with a clever hit to one of the Bludgers. Still, Marcus hung on, and Florence retaliated by
hitting her next Bludger back at Cassie, causing her to roll in the air to avoid it.

The Ravenclaw Chasers had worked together like a well-oiled machine, their moves sharp and
quick as they approached Emmeline again and again at the Gryffindor goals. Still, Emmeline
prevailed over them, letting in only five goals in total so that the final score, when Marlene pulled
out of a sharp dive inches from the ground with the Snitch clasped in her hand, was two hundred
and forty points to fifty, securing the Quidditch cup for Gryffindor.

When the Gryffindor team raced into the stands to collect the Quidditch Cup, Sam held it out to his
teammates, and they all reached to touch whatever corner of the cup they could get their hands on,
lifting it into the air collectively, every one of them beaming with delight at their victory.

Much to the disappointment of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, however, especially Florence,
James, and Marlene, they weren’t allowed to bring the cup to the common room for their victory
party, but handed it off to Professor McGonagall. Still, they rallied quickly and led the procession
back to the locker rooms, eager to shower and change before the Gryffindor victory party. Marlene
took James to go get his wrist healed by Madam Pomfrey, though he’d put on a brave face up until
that point, insisting that it didn’t hurt that much.

Emmeline took her time, letting the others leave ahead of her, knowing that the party was likely to
last all day anyway. When Emmeline finally left the locker rooms, clean and wearing the change of
clothes from her locker, she found Mary and Hestia waiting for her outside. They both squealed in
delight at the sight of her, drawing her into a three-person hug.

“You played so well!” Mary exclaimed as she drew back, beaming at Emmeline. Emmeline
grinned.

“Thanks,” she said, beginning to walk in the direction of the Gryffindor common room, her two
friends at her side. “I liked your signs from the crowd.”

Mary and Hestia exchanged mischievous smiles. It was true that Emmeline had been rather
embarrassed by the sign that read “Emmeline is our Queen,” and sported a large drawing of her
wearing a crown and hovering in front of the Gryffindor goalposts, but she was touched just the
same. At least they hadn’t shown favoritism, with equally funny signs for James and Marlene.

“It’s lucky that Mary is such a good artist,” Hestia commented. “I mostly colored.”

“Lucky I brought my pencils and things with me,” Mary said, shaking her head in amusement. “I
can’t believe wizards still use quills for everything. I mean, I get we’re a wizarding school, but is it
really worth making our lives so much more difficult just for the aesthetic?”

Emmeline and Hestia laughed. “Dorcas cast some spells to make the pictures move and sparkle
and things,” Hestia continued. “We thought it turned out rather nicely.”

“They were certainly very noticeable,” Emmeline teased. Hestia and Mary laughed. “But really,
thanks. I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Mary replied.

When the three girls finally reached the common room, the celebrations were already in full swing.
There was food on a large table by the fire, which Emmeline eagerly headed towards, feeling
famished after playing for so long. Before she could reach for it, however, Sam appeared in front of
her, a harried look on his face.

“Don’t eat the chocolate eclairs,” he warned. “Someone put something in them that made Chris’
ears turn into kumquats. I think it was James.”

“Didn’t James have to get his wrist fixed in the Hospital Wing?” Emmeline asked, smiling slightly
and picking up a custard cream instead.

“Yeah, but it took all of five seconds for Madam Pomfrey to heal it, and then they went to the
kitchens to get all of this food,” Sam said, waving a distracted hand around at the loaded table
before vanishing the offending pastries.
“Well, thanks for the tip,” Emmeline said, smiling. “I guess I’ll leave you to try to keep order.”

Sam laughed. “That’s my unofficial job description, I suppose,” he said.

Emmeline smiled at him. “Try to have some fun, too, though,” she said. “We won, after all. You
deserve it.”

“Thanks, Emmeline,” Sam replied, laughing. “I’ll try when I’m not trying to keep my underage
teammates from getting too drunk on firewhiskey.”

He headed off into the crowd, and Emmeline smiled to herself. She shoved the custard cream into
her mouth, then headed up the girls’ dormitory staircase towards her room. She wanted to put her
Quidditch bag down and change into something more suitable for the party, rather than her
Quidditch sweatpants.

She found Hestia there, looking like she’d just finished changing, too. Hestia looked up at
Emmeline in surprise. “You’re not ditching your own party already, are you?” she asked.
Emmeline smiled and shook her head.

“Just came to change.”

“Oh, well, good,” Hestia replied. “You deserve to enjoy the fruits of your labors.”

Emmeline smiled to herself, then turned her back on her friend, moving to grab some clothes from
her dresser and change into them while Hestia was turned away from her. When she turned back
around, her friend was tucking away her Gryffindor sweater in a drawer, which she’d worn to the
game.

“You looked pretty confident when you got out onto the pitch,” Hestia remarked. “I was surprised
since you seemed like you were about to puke when I saw you at breakfast.”

“Yeah, well, Sam gave me a bit of a pep talk,” Emmeline said. “It was really helpful.”

“Oh?” Hestia asked casually, glancing at her friend.

“He told me that I had to just go out there and play for me, and not for anyone else,” Emmeline
said, avoiding her friend’s gaze, knowing the “I told you so” look on Hestia’s face even out of the
corner of her eye.

“That’s good advice,” Hestia said, a slight smile playing across her lips. Emmeline laughed,
moving to fold her clothes on her bed. Then she straightened back up, turning to look at her friend
again. There was a pause as she tried to find the words.

“Thanks, Tia,” Emmeline said finally, giving her friend a small smile. “For making me focus on
myself for once, these last few weeks. I think I needed it.”

“Of course,” Hestia said. “I was a little worried I was pushing you too hard, to be honest. You
seemed pretty annoyed.”

“I was,” Emmeline said, smiling. “I didn’t want to listen to you, because, well...taking care of other
people is easy for me. It’s where I’m most comfortable,” Emmeline admitted, shrugging and
looking down sheepishly.

She hadn’t ever told her friend about the time her dad had gotten sick when she was seven, and
Emmeline had taken up the role of caretaker for her younger brother, Noah, while her mum was at
the hospital and her older half-brother, Benjamin, had been useless. Still, perhaps Hestia hadn’t
needed to know the story to see how Emmeline had clung to the need to take care of people ever
since.

“I know it is,” Hestia said, giving Emmeline a kind smile. “But sometimes what’s most
comfortable isn’t the best thing. It’s good to be good at taking care of other people, but it’s also
good to be good at taking care of yourself, you know?”

“I guess I’m learning that, now,” Emmeline said, smiling. As Hestia stood up and moved over to
her mirror, hooking a pair of hoop earrings into her earlobes, Emmeline realized that perhaps her
friend had been taking care of her all along, too, without her even realizing it.
 1974: To Build A Home
Chapter Notes

cw: allusions to/mentions of abuse, implied homophobia

There is a house built out of stone

Wooden floors, walls and window sills

Tables and chairs worn by all of the dust

This is a place where I don't feel alone

This is a place where I feel at home

- “To Build a Home,” The Cinematic Orchestra

Regulus’ first year at Hogwarts hadn’t been exactly what he’d expected. Of course, he’d heard
many tales from Sirius about the famed school ever since his older brother had first returned home
for Christmas during his first year. Then, Regulus had been ten, and he’d eagerly drank in all of
Sirius’ memories and stories, amazed at the colorful world that Sirius had constructed in his mind.
Upon entering Hogwarts himself, however, Regulus soon realized that his life there wasn’t
destined to be as exciting as Sirius had always made his own sound.

Part of this, Regulus thought, was because he hadn’t made the sort of friends Sirius could boast of
in his first year. While he was moderately friendly with some of the other students in his year in
Slytherin, he couldn’t claim to know much about any of them. Others he found, quite frankly,
repulsive.

Luckily for him, however, Narcissa had taken Regulus under her wing. In her capacity as not only a
seventh-year but also as Head Girl, this had made quite the difference in Regulus’ life at Hogwarts.
While the other Slytherins would sometimes mutter about Sirius, shooting Regulus contemptuous
looks, they never dared say anything outright to him about his brother with Narcissa around. Even
if she wasn’t nearby, everyone knew that whatever they did or said would circle back to her in the
end. So they kept their silence, and Regulus was glad of it.

He’d been surprised at how nice his older cousin had been to him, since they’d barely ever spoken
to each other privately before, and because she was six years older than him. Sirius had always
scoffed to Regulus after family events that Narcissa needed a stick removed from her arse, as she’d
moved like a robot and sat so straight in her chair Sirius said she must have an iron post for a spine.

Within the safety of the Slytherin common room, however, Narcissa was different. She lounged on
the couches, laughing with her friends and her boyfriend. She spoke to Regulus with familiarity,
asking him to sit with her sometimes at meals and giving him advice about his classes. They never
talked about Sirius or her older sister, Andromeda. Still, she didn’t give him lectures about how to
be a good pureblood, either, so he was happy to skirt the topic of their family in general. All in all,
Regulus was sad to say goodbye to her at the end of the year, knowing that she wouldn’t be
returning to the castle again.

When Sirius had sought out Regulus on platform nine and three-quarters at the end of the year,
after they’d both descended from the Hogwarts Express, he ruffled Regulus’ short hair
affectionately and said: “How does it feel to belong to the house that finished last in the Quidditch
Cup this year, Reg?”

Regulus rolled his eyes and pulled away from his brother. “We only finished third in the House
Cup.”

“Ah, technicalities,” Sirius replied, smirking teasingly down at his brother, his long hair falling
into his face as he did so. Sirius’ hair had grown considerably over his time at Hogwarts, having
been barely trimmed during the past three years. It drove their mother crazy, which Regulus
supposed was part of the draw for Sirius. She’d threatened to cut it before but never made good on
that particular promise.

“I’m sure Cissy’s disappointed that her initiative as Head Girl didn’t bolster Slytherin house’s
success this year,” Sirius commented, grinning. “Usually your house does much better.”

Regulus only rolled his eyes again, not responding to Sirius’ teasing as they turned to find Kreacher
waiting to take them back to Grimmauld Place.

Still, Sirius’ joking and cheerful manner around Regulus had become decidedly more forced as
they’d progressed into the summer, and he made no attempt to stay civil around their parents. Even
as Sirius had gotten better at taking what their mother now routinely threw at him, Regulus felt as if
he was watching something crack within his brother, something essential that he didn’t think could
ever be fixed. Sometimes, Regulus wanted to break down and beg Sirius to keep his mouth shut, if
not for his own safety, then so that Regulus could stop waking up from nightmares full of flashes
of light and screaming. He knew Sirius would never back down, though, so he didn’t try. Regulus
wondered dryly sometimes, when he felt irrationally angry with his brother, whether this was
courage or just plain stupidity.

One day in early August, the two Black brothers were sitting in Sirius’ room, Regulus watching as
Sirius fasten several different hangings to his wall. Regulus hadn’t asked how Sirius had acquired
the posters and things, as he figured that even if Sirius did give him a straight answer, he might not
want to know it.

Regulus had become exceptionally good, over his lifetime of living with his brother, at detecting
when Sirius was lying. Of course, Sirius hadn’t lied much—at least not to Regulus—when they’d
been younger, but in the last few years before Sirius had gone to Hogwarts, Sirius’ lies had begun
to pile up.

At first, Regulus hadn’t been suspicious of Sirius’ periodic disappearances. Their house was large,
and he never looked too hard to find Sirius when he went missing. It was an old habit of Regulus’,
really. Those hours after Sirius was punished by their mother or father, Sirius would hide, and
Regulus had learned by the age of five that in these moments, his older brother just wanted to be
left alone. If Regulus searched for him long enough, he knew that he’d eventually walk in on Sirius
in an abandoned cupboard, in the small gap between the last bookshelf and the wall in the library,
or sitting on a window seat behind thick curtains in the drawing room. But Regulus didn’t look, as
he’d learned that to approach Sirius at these times would only cause him to lash out like a wounded
animal, something neither of them wanted.

Still, Sirius had begun to go missing more and more in the last two years before he’d left for
Hogwarts, and Regulus had grown accordingly more and more suspicious. After a few months of
this, Regulus had thrown caution to the winds and begun to search the house for him. Regulus tried
to do this discreetly, always abandoning his search if his parents or Kreacher asked what he was
doing, but after only a few weeks of always turning up empty-handed, Regulus had come to the
startling conclusion that Sirius must actually be leaving the house.

Why Sirius would leave the house on his own was a mystery that Regulus had never been able to
unravel, and for some reason, he balked at the idea of asking his older brother about his
excursions. Clearly, Sirius was both determined to keep exploring London on his own—if that
indeed was what he was doing—and to keep it a secret from all of the inhabitants of Number
Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Regulus felt that confronting his brother about it might disrupt some
delicate balance within their relationship, and it was obvious to him that Sirius’ adventures were
making him happy, so he’d held his tongue about it for many years. Nevertheless, he still felt more
than a little hurt that Sirius didn’t trust him enough to tell him about what he was doing.

“You’re really serious about this?” Regulus asked him doubtfully as Sirius held up a Gryffindor
banner over his bed, trying to see where the best place for it would be.

“I’m always serious, Reg,” Sirius said, turning to give his younger brother a wink and a smile.

“But mum will kill you,” Regulus said, his voice apprehensive.

Sirius let out a short, mirthless laugh and pulled his wand from his pocket, casting a quick sticking
charm so that the banner fastened itself to the wall. Sirius had always been rather cavalier about
using magic outside of school within the Black house, as he’d pointed out to Regulus early on that
it couldn’t be detected as long as they were relatively near an adult witch or wizard. Sirius stepped
down from the bed, grabbing another poster.

“She hasn’t killed me yet,” Sirius said, unrolling the poster and examining it critically. “Anyway,
I’ve been a Gryffindor for three years now. At some point, mother will have to get used to it.”

He turned the poster around to show Regulus, whose eyes widened. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
Sirius laughed again, with a little more sincere humor in his voice this time.

“Not a fan of Bowie, Reg?”

Regulus stared at him, shaking his head in amazement. “I’ve never listened to any Muggle music,
Sirius, you know that.”

“Well, lucky for you, one of my friends gave me a stereo for Christmas,” Sirius said, striding over
to his bed and pulling out the bulky device from under it, then rummaging around for a bit before
finding a record to play. After placing the record carefully on the turntable and placing the needle
on it, Sirius jabbed at the device with his wand, and the soft sound of music began to drift from the
speakers. Regulus listened as he watched Sirius move around his room, looking for a place to put
up his Ziggy Stardust poster. When the first song finished, Sirius turned to Regulus, raising his
eyebrows.

“So?”

“It was good, I suppose,” Regulus admitted. He looked down at the ground, picking up the corner
of another poster and turning it over. He snorted, rolling his eyes as he saw that it depicted a
stationary, Muggle picture of a bikini-clad girl. He wasn’t even going to bother commenting on
that one.

The movement of the poster had revealed a smaller photograph beneath it, however, and Regulus
bent from his chair to pick it up curiously. The photograph was of four boys, standing arm in arm,
laughing at the camera. The picture had been taken in front of the lake on the grounds of Hogwarts,
Regulus realized. Of course, he recognized Sirius immediately. The boys around him were
relatively easy to identify, too, because he’d seen his older brother with them so many times at
meals, in the corridors, and out on the grounds. Though Sirius himself had never mentioned any of
them to him by name, Regulus had learned who they were from Narcissa’s letters home about
Sirius, as well as from mutterings within the walls of Hogwarts.

To Sirius’ left was James Potter, Sirius’ best friend. He had medium brown skin and untidy black
hair, the camera flash reflecting off his slightly crooked glasses, his grin wide. James, Regulus
knew, was the son of Fleamont Potter, who had invented some famous hair potion—not that it did
much good with his own hair—and Euphemia Potter, another potioneer. His family was very rich
and pureblooded, but they were all blood traitors, from what his mother had said.

On James’ other side was Remus Lupin, who had light brown hair and blue eyes, his smile happy
but more tentative than the two boys in the middle. Regulus didn’t know much about Remus other
than that he was rather quieter than James and Sirius, and was a half-blood. In Regulus’ second
week at Hogwarts, he’d bumped headlong into Remus in the corridor outside of the library when
Remus had had his head buried in a book, not looking where he was going. Looking up after they’d
collided briefly, Remus had apologized, but his words faltered slightly as he looked into Regulus’
eyes, an expression of slight shock on his face.

Regulus, feeling uncomfortable, had muttered an apology and then ducked around Remus into the
library. He thought he’d seen something more than shock in the older boy’s gaze, and he hadn’t
liked it. Was it pity? Like everyone, Regulus had heard the story of Sirius’ boggart from the third-
year Slytherins during his first week of classes, and he hated the idea that this boy, a stranger to
Regulus, knew about what had happened in his house, to his brother. He wondered if Sirius had
told his friends about what had been happening ever since that one Christmas, a year and a half
ago, but he didn’t ask Sirius. Regulus didn’t like to think about that night, about nearly carrying his
older brother up the stairs to his bedroom, about Sirius collapsing onto his bed, looking as lifeless
as a doll. Regulus had been just eleven then.

He focused back on the picture. On Sirius’ right, stood a small, plump boy with short blonde hair,
by the name of Peter Pettigrew. Regulus knew less about this boy than the other two, as even when
he overheard the other Slytherins muttering about Sirius and his friends, they rarely mentioned
Pettigrew at all.

“Can you hand me—” Sirius said, turning, then broke off as he caught sight of Regulus looking
down at the picture in his hands. “Oh,” Sirius said, looking shifty all of a sudden. He composed
himself again quickly. “Could you hand me that poster from the floor?”

Regulus did, and Sirius turned back to hang it up on his wall. Regulus was silent for another
moment, then he spoke. “You never talk about your friends,” he said, looking at Sirius, who had
his back to him as he charmed the poster of the Muggle girl to his wall. Sirius’ arm twitched
slightly in response to Regulus’ statement, letting a corner of the poster fall for a moment before he
grabbed it again, but he didn’t turn around.

“Well, you’ve never asked me about them,” came Sirius’ careful reply, and Regulus sighed in
frustration.

“Maybe I’m asking now,” Regulus said, crossing his arms over his chest, feeling petulant despite
his better wishes. He realized only then how desperate he was for answers about the people his
older brother spent his time around. He wished he could have just a sliver of a glimpse into Sirius’
life, which felt so distant from his own these days.

Sirius turned, fixing his younger brother with an unreadable look and crossing his arms protectively
in response, mirroring Regulus’ posture. “What do you want to know, then?”

“I don’t know,” Regulus said, shrugging. “Anything. James Potter, he’s the one you spent a week
with last summer, right? And Christmas?”

Sirius frowned. “How do you know about Christmas? I told our parents I was spending it at
Hogwarts.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “I saw you on the platform, Sirius. I didn’t mention it to our parents, but I
still saw you.”

Sirius smiled slightly. “Yeah, I spent Christmas with James’ family, as well as that week last
summer.” He paused, then gave his brother a curious look. “Have you been keeping tabs on me,
Reg?”

“You don’t tell me much,” Regulus replied a little defensively. “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t
hear things from other people, you know.”

“From mum?”

“Narcissa used to send her letters about what you were up to, yes,” Regulus admitted. “And from
some of the other Slytherins.”

“What did they tell you about me?” Sirius demanded, stiffening. Regulus hesitated, looking at his
brother. He decided against saying anything about the boggart.

“They don’t say much to me,” he said. “I overhear bits and pieces, not much. Just about who you
hang around with and stuff. They call you a blood traitor.”

“And what do you think? Do you think I’m a blood traitor?” Sirius asked, eyebrows raised.

“Well, you’re friends with an awful lot of them,” Regulus pointed out. His voice was neutral, and
he looked at his older brother curiously, wanting to understand.

Sirius sighed. “Those terms mean nothing, Reg, you know?” he said, uncrossing his arms and
running a hand through his long hair. “Blood traitor, half-blood, pureblood…” He didn’t say the
last one, but Regulus could sense it hanging in the air, had heard it so many times from his
mother’s and father’s mouths, and from the other Slytherins.

“I’m not sure how to explain all the things I’ve learned outside this house,” Sirius continued. “But
it’s all bullshit, Reg. The pureblood crap, it doesn’t make us better than anyone else.”

Regulus stared at Sirius, thinking of how much he sounded like Andromeda right before she’d run
from their house, never to return. “I don’t understand, Sirius,” he said finally. “I’m sorry, but I
don’t get it. I don’t know where you were going all those years when you were leaving the house, I
don’t know what you were doing, and you never told me. And now you won’t even try to explain
this, so I’m not sure how I can ever understand it.”

Sirius’s eyes widened at Regulus’ words, and he just stared at him for a moment, frozen, before
leaping down from the chair he’d been standing on. He pulled it over to Regulus, straddling it to
face his brother so that the two boys were almost at eye level, though Sirius was still a few inches
taller, even sitting down. “You knew about that?” he asked after a moment, his voice low. Regulus
nodded slowly.

“Look, this is just the kind of thing I’m talking about,” Regulus said, starting to feel angry. “You
treat me like I can never understand things, like I don’t notice things, but I do, Sirius. I’m not
stupid, and I’m not just some little kid that you have to hide the hard stuff from because I can’t
handle it. I’ve been handling the hard stuff for years, whether you want to acknowledge it or not.”

The two brothers stared at each other for another moment, and Regulus felt a bit of satisfaction
seeing the startled look in Sirius’ eyes. There was something else behind it, however, and when
Sirius spoke, Regulus realized that it was hurt.

“You haven’t had to deal with it like I have,” Sirius said quietly, his tone reproachful. “You do
understand that I’ve been trying to protect you all these years, right?”

Regulus looked down, breaking their eye contact, feeling slightly ashamed of himself. Of course he
knew. He’d known since they were children. But still… “Maybe you should think about protecting
yourself for once,” he shot back, looking up to gaze at his older brother once again. “If you didn’t
always pick a fight—”

Sirius groaned, leaning back and shaking his head. “You don’t get it, Reg, I can’t just shut my
mouth. Sometimes I think I can, but…” He sighed, running a hand through his hair again. Regulus
wondered if this was a habit he’d picked up from his friend James, since the other boy’s hair was
always so messy.

“Look, maybe you won the genetic lottery with our family or something,” Sirius said, giving
Regulus a wry smile. “But for me, it just feels impossible not to rise to the bait. I got my temper
from mum, I suppose. And they’re my friends, Regulus. Do you get that? When our parents talk
about blood traitors, half-bloods, and Muggle-borns, those are my friends they’re cussing out.”

This, for the first time, gave Regulus pause. He’d never thought about this before, never realized
that as soon as Sirius had gone to Hogwarts, their parents’ tirades had become personal to him.

“Okay, tell me about your friends, then,” he demanded again petulantly. Sirius hesitated for
another moment, looking at Regulus as if he was seeing him for the first time. Then, a slow grin
spread across his face. Regulus thought it was the first genuine smile he’d seen on his brother’s
face in a while.

“Well, they’re bonkers, really,” Sirius said. “But brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. James is my best
mate, and he’s hilarious. Arrogant little berk, of course, but he’d die for any one of his mates. And
kill for us, too, probably, but that would take a bit more. His parents, Euphemia and Fleamont,
they’re great, too. They actually cook for themselves, you know, no house-elves. Euphemia makes
this amazing dahl soup...I never realized how few spices English people use in their cooking
before I went to their house. Didn’t know how much I was missing out before.”

Regulus looked down at the picture in his hands. James laughed at the camera, his arm around
Sirius. Regulus noted the casual arrogance in his stance, but also the carefree smile on his face. He
wondered what it was like to be James Potter, with his two adoring parents and loving family. He
pushed the thought out of his head quickly, his eyes going to the light brown-haired boy in the
picture, whose blue eyes looked steadily back at him from the photograph.

“What about Remus Lupin?” he asked, looking up at his brother. He thought he saw something
shift in Sirius’ eyes, which suddenly acquired a faraway look in them.

“Remus is great,” Sirius said, smiling more softly now. “Total bookworm, remembers every single
thing he reads, and he’s brilliant at pretending to be all rule-following for the teachers, but when it
comes down to it he’s the mastermind behind all of our best schemes. Sarcastic little shit, too.
He’s, well…”

A strange expression flickered across Sirius’ face at that moment, barely there long enough for
Regulus to register it. Still, he knew in that moment that Sirius was about to hold something back
again.

“He’s just brilliant,” Sirius finished rather lamely.

Regulus narrowed his eyes at Sirius but didn’t ask him to elaborate. He remembered the look
Remus had given him, and the thought occurred to him that maybe the older boy had been startled
by the resemblance between Regulus and his brother, which Regulus had been told before was
striking. Everyone in the family had the same grey eyes, of course, but he and Sirius had the same
nose, the same mouth, the same cheekbones...Obviously, Remus and Sirius were close. All of a
sudden, Regulus didn’t mind the thought that Remus might know what was going on in their house
as much as before.

Sirius continued. “Then there’s Pete. I didn’t take to him right away, to be honest, in first year, but
he got over his twitchiness around us after a bit, and he’s actually quite clever and funny. Good at
sneaking around, and always on board to cause some mischief. Marlene and Dorcas both knew
James from before Hogwarts, and they hang around a lot, too. Marley’s hilarious, and reckless
sometimes. Stubborn and competitive as hell, that one, which has got her into quite a few scrapes.
Dorcas is probably the smartest person I’ve ever met in my life, she’s basically top at everything,
as well as being one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet. Dee kind of calms Marley down a lot,
but if Dee is angry, well...I envy anyone who’s in her way.”

His grin was strong and uncomplicated again as he gave Regulus a shrug and said: “I dunno,
Reg...they’re all amazing, y’know? I’m lucky to have them.”

He smiled at Regulus, happiness shining in his grey eyes as he talked about his friends, and at that
moment, Regulus felt more distant from his brother than he’d ever done in his whole life. He’d
asked about Sirius’ friends to feel closer to him, but now he saw it—Sirius had a new family. A
family who made him happy, who gave him Christmas and birthday presents, who thought like
him and fought for what he believed in because they believed in it, too.

“Are you going to stay with James for part of the summer again?” Regulus asked, his heart sinking
into his stomach.

“Yeah, he invited me,” Sirius said, shrugging. “I reckon I can get mum and dad to let me go a few
weeks before the end of the summer, maybe. They’re already so sick of me, it shouldn’t be hard.”

Regulus nodded, trying to swallow the emotion welling up in his throat. Part of him wanted to beg
his brother to stay with him, but another part of him wished Sirius could just leave right then. He’s
already gone, a small voice said in the back of Regulus’ head, and he tried to push it away. He’s
been gone for years, the voice insisted. Regulus shoved it away again and tried to smile at his
brother.

“That will be nice, I suppose,” he said, attempting to look happy for him. Sirius grinned back.

“Yeah, it will,” he said, and Regulus knew that his mind was already there, at James Potter’s
house, eating food cooked by his loving parents who had probably never said a harsh word to him,
and being with his friends.
At least when he’s gone you won’t have to worry about him, the small voice in his mind said, as he
got ready for bed that night. Regulus sighed, realizing the voice was right. Sirius was probably
better off with the Potters, and with all of his other new friends, where he was safe. He climbed
under his covers, turning onto his side, pulling his pillow over his ear, and pressing down. He was
used to doing this, after all these nights. I definitely won’t miss the screaming, he thought to himself
as he began to drift off to sleep.

....

Walburga Black had thrown a fit when she’d seen Sirius’ new decorations for his room. While the
Gryffindor banner might have been bad enough, she went absolutely nuts when she saw the
pictures of Muggle girls on his wall. Their father, Orion, however, had been much angrier in
response to Sirius’ Bowie poster. He’d spat a word out that Regulus had heard only a few times
before, thrown around in their house at mealtimes, but which he’d never known the meaning of.
Regulus saw Sirius’ unbothered air falter for the first time in years as he flinched.

After that, their parents seemed almost relieved at Sirius’ request to spend the last three weeks of
the summer with his friend, James. Sirius had sent his owl, Caspian, to tell James that he could
come over sooner than expected, and the next day Sirius left by floo powder for the Potter house.

The house felt very empty again without Sirius in it, but Regulus was used to this by now. He’d
spent many lonely months without Sirius after his brother had gone to Hogwarts, and had long
since found ways to quench the feeling of emptiness. Sometimes he wandered the big house
aimlessly, other times he read in the library, or talked with Kreacher as he cleaned. He knew Sirius
didn’t like the elf much, probably because Kreacher had learned to hate Sirius from Walburga’s
rants about him when he was gone, but Kreacher had always been kind to Regulus.

These days, when all of these things failed to make Regulus feel less alone, he’d go into Sirius’
room, lie on his brother’s bed, and just stare around at the walls. Sirius had managed to cover
almost all of the wallpaper with his banners and posters, all of which were stuck there with a
permanent sticking charm, something which their mother discovered when she tried to remove
them after Sirius had left. This had triggered another fit, of course, and Orion Black had had to step
in to prevent her from setting everything in the room on fire.

As Regulus gazed around at the wall hangings, he wished that he could see through them and
understand what was going on in his older brother’s head. The posters remained stationary and
lifeless, however, yielding no answers. The only thing that moved in the room, other than Regulus,
was the small picture of Sirius and his friends, which he’d pasted next to his bed. Sometimes
Regulus would roll onto his side and gaze at it, thinking about how he’d never seen Sirius that
happy in this house, and wondering if he was laughing with James Potter at that very moment, safe
away from Grimmauld Place.

The following three weeks passed very slowly for Regulus, but he still felt almost surprised when
September 1st was upon him and he was set to return to Hogwarts. This year, his father brought
him to platform nine and three-quarters, giving him a gruff goodbye before Regulus boarded the
train back to Hogwarts.

When the train began to move, Regulus walked down the corridors, searching for someone he
recognized. He caught sight of Sirius sitting with his Gryffindor roommates, a broad smile on his
face as he gazed at Remus Lupin, who seemed to be telling an animated story, holding something
up for the other boys to see which was blocked from Regulus’ view. Regulus sighed and moved
past their compartment quickly.

Eventually, Regulus found himself seated in a compartment with some of his Slytherin roommates,
including Barty Crouch Jr., Amycus Carrow, and John Selwyn. Regulus had always liked Barty a
bit more than his other roommates, while he found John tolerable, if a bit dim, and Amycus
positively repellant.

Clearly, however, Amycus felt the same way about him. As soon as Regulus entered their
compartment, both Amycus and his twin sister Alecto, who was sitting with them as well, fixed
him with identical glares. It took a while for Regulus to become annoyed with the persistent
staring, but eventually, he snapped at Amycus.

“What are you looking at, Carrow?”

“Nothing,” Amycus sneered. “I heard your parents finally gave your blood traitor brother the boot
this summer.”

“You heard wrong, then,” Regulus said, glaring back at the shorter boy.

“It’s only a matter of time, though, isn’t it?” Amycus asked, his sneer becoming even more
pronounced. “If he’s always associating with blood traitors and Mudbloods. Reckon it runs in your
family, though, doesn’t it? Didn’t your older cousin shack up with a Mudblood?”

“Piss off,” Regulus muttered, looking away from Amycus. Alecto let out a sinister little giggle, but
neither twin said anything more on the subject.

Soon, Regulus realized that his confrontation with Amycus wasn’t the last of its kind he’d have to
endure over the course of the year. What he hadn’t anticipated—though he supposed he should
have—was that now that Narcissa had graduated, the other Slytherins had no reason to keep their
nasty thoughts about Sirius to themselves anymore.

So, at the beginning of his second year, Regulus was barraged with taunts about his older brother
from his fellow Slytherins. It wasn’t just his roommates, either, it was every single Slytherin who
had been the butt of a Gryffindor joke or prank who wanted a go at him. It didn’t even matter that
Regulus was a Black. Slytherin House was full of prominent pureblooded names, and they were all
content to use Regulus as an outlet for their disdain and anger.

Soon, Regulus had exhausted the limits of what he could take. There were only so many times he
could tell them to piss off, and he felt even more isolated than when he’d been all alone in
Grimmauld Place. Therefore, he decided to change his tactics.

When older Slytherins called out to him in the common room, saying, “Hey, Black, I heard your
brother is about to get blasted off the family tree,” he’d turn and look them dead in the eyes with an
arrogant, detached smirk on his face, shooting back: “Serves him right for the scum he hangs
around these days.”

If in the dormitory, Amycus or John sneered and said, “Your brother and his blood traitor and half-
blood friends need to learn their place, they’re not fit to wipe dirt off my shoes,” Regulus would grit
his teeth and force a cold laugh, saying: “You’re telling me, I’m the one who had to spend most of
the summer with that blood traitor.”

At the Slytherin table at mealtimes, when Snape or another fourth-year Slytherin would make a sly
comment about Sirius and his friends, Regulus would scowl and nod, saying “He doesn’t even
deserve the name of Black, I’m embarrassed to call him my brother.”

These tactics seemed to work, as, for the first time since the first of September, the other Slytherins
seemed to lose interest in taunting him. Some older students even began to acknowledge him in the
corridors, or nod to him as he passed them in the common room. By this, Regulus concluded that
he’d passed some sort of unspoken test and that the Slytherins had finally decided that he was one
of them, and began to treat him accordingly.

Nevertheless, at night, lying in his four-poster bed with his curtains drawn around him, Regulus
would stare up at the ceiling, echoes of his words playing over in his head. Did I really say all
those things? He asked himself, feeling both revolted and scared.

Another small voice would pipe up, then, reminding him: You’re just surviving. He’s got it good
for himself, Sirius, with his Gryffindor friends. He doesn’t know what you have to go through. You
don’t owe him anything.

Still, Regulus wasn’t sure if he really believed it. As he rolled over on his side in his bed, he drew
the pillow over his head in habit, then stopped himself. The screaming was in his mind this time,
and he couldn’t drown it out, or make it go away.

Still, as he stared over at the Gryffindor table the next morning, looking at Sirius, who was
laughing with James Potter and Marlene McKinnon, he tried to convince himself again that he was
doing the right thing. Sirius would never know about the measures he’d gone to to fit in in
Slytherin House, anyway, so what did it matter? Still, a little voice in his mind begged, over and
over again: Please forgive me, Sirius. Please don’t hate me for trying to survive.
 1974: Between Worlds
Chapter Notes

cw: reference to underage drug use

On the first of September, at the beginning of Mary’s fourth year at Hogwarts, the London avenues
surrounding King’s Cross Station were filled with commuters, harried-looking men and women
who Mary and her stepfather, Paul Macdonald, weaved around on their way into the station. Mary
ducked into King’s Cross with relief, happy to escape the raindrops that beat a steady rhythm onto
its roof. It’d been a wet few days, the sound of rain accompanying most of Paul and Mary’s long
drive from Cornwall the previous day. At night, Mary had listened to the wind as it battered the
windows of the Leaky Cauldron, thinking of her return to Hogwarts the following morning.

Walking through the busy station, Mary thought wistfully of her home in Cornwall, with its small
main street where she worked alongside her parents in the greengrocer when she wasn’t looking
after her little sister, Clem, or spending time with her Muggle friends. It had a quiet, peaceful
charm to it, one which Mary was always a little reluctant to replace with the hustle and bustle of her
life at Hogwarts. Of course, she was looking forward to going back to her classes at the magical
school, and to seeing her friends again, but she always missed the simplicity of Cornwall. In
Cornwall, Mary was just a girl, not a witch.

She’d known her two best friends, Laura Cardey and Suzy Kevern, since primary school, and to
them, Mary was normal, despite her attendance at what they believed to be a posh boarding school
to which Mary had somehow gotten a scholarship when she’d been eleven. It wasn’t truly a lie,
Mary thought, just an omission of certain crucial facts. Still, even if she could’ve told her friends
the truth, Mary still thought she might prefer them not to know. She liked spending time with them,
doing simple, fun things, which had nothing to do with magic, and everything to do with being a
teenager. Together, the three girls explored the coast, finding caves and abandoned, sandy beaches
where they spent their time pretending like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

It was better that way, the three girls had decided, drawing patterns in the sand and smoking in
caves, to be away from everyone else in their little town, whom they all agreed were dreadfully
boring. Sometimes, the other girls berated Mary for leaving them during the school year and made
fun of her by putting on ridiculous upper-class London accents and laughing about all the posh
friends she must have. Mary smiled along, as, in some ways, they were quite correct about some of
the people she spent her time with. Anyway, she thought it was better to let them make up
ludicrous stories than know the truth about the people she lived and went to school with for nine
months out of the year.

Mary missed Laura and Suzy deeply during the term, missed the feeling of having people who
knew her inside and out, and being able to share everything with them. At least when the other
townspeople sent unfriendly glances her or her family’s way in public, Mary could rant to Suzy
and Laura for hours in some faraway cave, and they’d always listen and sympathize. When she was
at Hogwarts, however, and a Slytherin gave her a dirty look, or someone told her she was good at
her subjects “for a Muggle-born,” all Mary could do was scream into her pillow, feeling very, very
alone.
Mary tried to push these thoughts out of her mind as she approached the barrier dividing the
Muggle world from platform nine and three-quarters, however. Paul looked over at her, giving her
a small, nervous smile as he met her eyes.

“I always hate this part,” he admitted, laughing slightly. Mary smiled back.

“It’s okay, dad,” she replied, offering him her hand. “We can go together.” Paul smiled gratefully
and took her small hand in his larger one, and, looking around furtively first, they walked towards
the apparently solid barrier, passing through it onto platform nine and three-quarters.

Mary blinked rapidly as she took in the sight of the platform, bustling with activity, in front of her.
Quickly, she steered them away from the barrier so that if anyone came through behind them, they
wouldn’t get hit, then stopped for a moment just to take in the sight of all the students coming back
for another year at Hogwarts. A wide smile broke across her face, and she turned to beam at Paul,
who grinned back enthusiastically.

“Shall we get your trunk onto the train, then?” he asked, putting an affectionate hand on her
shoulder. She nodded vigorously, and together they pushed her trolley through the crowd to a door
of the train. Once they’d lifted her heavy trunk into the luggage compartment, they stood back
from the train, and Mary looked around to the milling crowd.

“Looking for your friends?” Paul asked.

“Yeah, I was just thinking that if I saw one of them I’d—” Mary broke off, catching sight of a head
of sleek, dark brown hair. “Tia!” she exclaimed, running towards the other girl.

Hestia Jones turned around, looking for the person who had called her name, then caught sight of
Mary bounding towards her. Her face broke into a wide smile, her cheeks rosy as always and her
dark eyes dancing with their usual mirth. She spread her arms wide, and Mary ran into them, the
two girls clinging to one another, laughing in delight.

Hestia had grown an inch or two over the summer, while Mary stayed as short as ever, so their hug
was slightly more awkward than usual. Mary barely cleared five feet tall, and her doctor at home
told her that she’d likely not grow much more, a fact which she was rather put out about. All the
other girls in her dormitory were taller than her, though her Ravenclaw friend, Miranda, was about
her same height.

Indeed, when Hestia and Mary broke apart, Hestia grinned down at her, remarking, “Did you get
shorter?”

“You got taller,” Mary said, frowning and crossing her arms. Hestia laughed, running a careless
hand through her silky hair.

“If you think I’ve gotten tall, just wait until you see Marley,” she said, looking around for their
friend. “I spotted her a few minutes ago, or at least I think it was her. I thought us girls were
supposed to get tall steadily over time, but I swear she shot up another couple of inches over the
summer.”

“Great, that’s all I need,” Mary said, though she was grinning. “More short jokes from Marley.”

“Where are your parents?” Hestia asked, looking behind her. “Mine just left.”

“My stepdad brought me,” Mary said. “He’s back there if you want to meet him. I thought I could
introduce you two.”
“That would be amazing!” Hestia said, bouncing on the soles of her feet, her eyes twinkling. “I’ve
heard so many great things from you about Paul. I’d love to meet him.”

Mary smiled and led Hestia back towards Paul, who was waiting patiently, his hands stuck in the
pockets of his blue jeans, watching the two girls from afar. Paul, too, towered over Mary and her
mother, Meiying, who was also short. Mary wondered if Clem would be taller than her when she
was older. At present, her sister wasn’t yet three years old, and not even three feet tall, so there
would be a while to wait before that would happen, luckily.

“Dad, this is my friend, Hestia,” Mary said, gesturing towards her friend, who beamed up at Paul.
“Hestia, this is my stepdad, Paul.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Hestia gushed.

“You, too,” he said in his deep, reassuring voice. “Mary’s told me so much about you. I’m glad
she’s found good friends at school.”

“Have you seen any of the others around?” Mary asked Hestia. Hestia looked around, too, and both
girls searched the crowd for a minute, but it was only when a figure came flying out of the barrier
into platform nine and three-quarters that their search proved fruitful.

Emmeline Vance, looking harried, was followed closely by a tall, blond-haired man and dark-
haired woman, who must be her parents. Mary and Hestia immediately called out to her, waving
her over, and she turned to them, the anxious look on her face fading into a smile as she registered
who they were.

“Em!” Hestia exclaimed as she ran towards them, and Emmeline smiled, her long hair streaming
behind her, catching them both in a hug at the same time. Mary was a little bit squashed into both
of their chests, but she didn’t complain, laughing as Emmeline released them. Emmeline hadn’t
grown much over the summer, luckily, as she’d already been the tallest in their dormitory at the
end of the previous year, though from Hestia’s report, Marlene might overtake her this year. Still,
her appearance had changed slightly, as her hair had lightened a bit with the summer sun, and
become much less frizzy than it’d been the previous year, her waves smooth and pronounced.

“I missed you both so much!” Emmeline exclaimed, smiling at them.

“We missed you,” Hestia exclaimed, almost jumping up and down in her excitement.

“Do you want to meet my dad?” Mary asked, nodding over to Paul, who was still standing there,
looking around in a bemused sort of way.

“Paul’s here?” Emmeline asked, her eyes widening in surprise and her smile growing. “I’d love to
meet him. You can meet my parents, too.” She gestured behind her, beckoning her parents forward.

“Hello, girls,” the dark-haired witch said, smiling down at them. “You must be Mary and Hestia, I
recognize you from Emmeline’s pictures.”

“This is my mum, Esther,” Emmeline said, nodding to her, smiling. “And my dad, Charlie.”

“It’s so nice to meet you both,” Hestia said, smiling at them. Mary followed suit, giving a quick,
polite greeting. Emmeline’s father looked quite a bit older than her mother, and both appeared very
friendly. Mary could see Emmeline in Esther’s brown eyes and the shape of her face, but there was
something about Charlie’s steady smile that was familiar, too. He and his daughter shared the
same air of calm that Mary had always loved about Emmeline, as it seemed to seep from her and
reach out to everyone in the vicinity when it was needed most.
“This is my dad, Paul,” Mary said, gesturing to where he was hovering behind them. He smiled at
Emmeline’s parents, sticking out a friendly hand. They smiled back, accepting his gesture in turn.
“Dad, this is Emmeline, and her parents, Charlie and Esther Vance.”

“No Noah?” Hestia asked Emmeline, referring to her younger brother. Emmeline laughed and
shook her head, but her mother answered for her.

“Noah’s a bit much to look after, especially in this chaos,” she explained, smiling. “I’d worry about
him getting lost.”

“My older brother, Benjamin, is looking after him,” Emmeline explained.

“We can get your trunk onto the train, dear,” Esther said to Emmeline, putting a hand on her
shoulder briefly. “You catch up with your friends while we do that, and we’ll come back to say
goodbye.”

“Thanks, mum, dad,” Emmeline said, smiling and turning back to Hestia, Mary, and Paul. “Do you
have a long trip back, Mr. Macdonald?” she asked Paul politely. Paul smiled at her.

“Please, call me Paul, Emmeline. It’s quite a drive, though, yeah,” he said. “But nothing I haven’t
done before. It’ll be duller than the drive over, though, without my Mare with me.”

Mary smiled at him regretfully. “Hope you won’t get too bored, dad.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about me,” he said, smiling down at her. “I’ve got the radio to keep me
company. I can always listen to infomercials if I get too bored. Just you wait, you’ll get a letter
from your mum complaining about me humming jingles constantly in a couple of days.”

Mary laughed. “I look forward to it.”

“Are both your parents magical?” Paul asked, eyeing Hestia and Emmeline curiously.

“My mum is, but my dad isn’t,” Emmeline replied.

“My parents both are, but they’re both Muggle-borns, like Mary,” Hestia said brightly.

“That’s interesting,” Paul said. “You know, I sometimes can’t believe Mary’s really a witch. Your
wizarding world is always confusing to me, I don’t know how Mary learned about it all so
quickly.”

“You’re the one that’s always told me that we’ve got to adapt to survive,” Mary said, looking up at
Paul affectionately. He shrugged good-naturedly.

The Vances were back to say goodbye as the first whistle sounded on the platform, warning that
the train would be departing in five minutes, and Emmeline turned away to talk to them. Hestia,
too, bade Mary goodbye for the moment as she hopped onto the train to find a compartment while
Mary turned to say goodbye to Paul, who smiled rather sadly back at her. Mary leaned up to wrap
her arms around him, his worn hands wrapping around her back and lifting her off her feet slightly.
They clung to each other for a while like that before Paul finally set her down and they stood back.

“You’ll take care of yourself?” Paul asked.

Mary nodded, smiling. “I will, and I’ll send you lots of updates on everything. You’ll write to me,
too? Send me pictures of Clem?”
“Of course we will,” he responded, smiling. “We always do. I’ll miss you, Mare bear.”

“I’ll miss you, too, dad,” Mary said, giving Paul a last hug before climbing onto the train. She
waved to him briefly through the window, then turned to find Hestia, trying to rid herself of the
image of Paul standing forlornly on the platform, hands in his pockets again as he watched her
disappear.

Emmeline climbed onto the train behind her a moment later, and they set out in search of their
friend through the packed corridors. It didn’t take long, as Hestia hadn’t actually found them a
compartment, but was standing in the corridor chatting with an older Hufflepuff girl, Alice
Fortescue.

“Hey, Alice,” Mary greeted. Alice had tutored her briefly in Ancient Runes the previous year and
was one of the nicest people she’d ever met. “Good summer?”

“It was great!” Alice exclaimed, her round face breaking into a wide, friendly smile. “It’s so nice to
see you again, Mary!”

“It’s really good to see you, too,” Mary replied, returning her smile without effort.

“You got prefect!” Emmeline exclaimed, pointing to the silver badge gleaming on Alice’s robes.
Alice beamed brightly at her.

“I did! I was so surprised, but pleased, of course,” Alice said, running a hand over her badge
humbly. Mary smiled. She wasn’t surprised by Alice’s shock at receiving the position, as the other
girl was very down-to-earth, but Mary couldn’t think of anyone who deserved the position more
than the fifth-year Hufflepuff girl. “It’ll be a lot of work, with the patrols and all that.”

“True,” Mary said. “I bet you’ll manage, though.”

“I’ll have to,” Alice said, her bright smile not faltering. “Well, I should go find the prefect’s
carriage. See you all later! I’d love to catch up sometime!”

“Bye, Alice!” the three Gryffindor girls said, waving as the dark-haired girl moved away from
them down the corridor.

“Have you heard anything about who the new Gryffindor prefects are?” Emmeline asked Hestia,
as they walked in the opposite direction, looking for an empty compartment.

“I think someone said it was Frank Longbottom and Gracie Peakes,” Hestia said. “They should be
good. Frank’s nice, and Gracie’s a bit quiet, but she seems fine, too.”

“Is that Sirius?” Emmeline asked suddenly, pointing ahead of them down the corridor. They all
looked at the boy, who was just disappearing into a compartment, and Mary shook her head after a
moment of studying him.

“No, it’s his younger brother, Regulus, I think,” she said. The two boys looked quite similar from
behind, but Regulus was shorter than Sirius. “They do look very alike, though, it’s eerie.”

“There’s Sirius!” Hestia exclaimed, pointing into a compartment to their left. She was right: inside
the compartment sat James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. “Let’s say
hello!” Hestia said, obviously completely distracted from her task of finding them their own
compartment by this point. As the door slid open, all four boys started, looking up guiltily at the
three girls in the doorway. Mary narrowed her eyes at them suspiciously.
“Hello, boys,” Emmeline said, a laugh in her voice. “Why d’you all look like we walked in on you
doing something illegal?”

Mary looked to Remus, who she knew the best, and found that his skin was flushed with
embarrassment, his blue eyes standing out bright against his red face. His fingers fumbled at the
catch of his bag, clearly trying to shove something out of sight, but he wasn’t fast enough. Mary
gasped, striding into the compartment and grabbing it from him, all sense of decorum put aside at
the sight of the bag in his hands.

“Remus, is this pot?” she asked, staring at him in amused surprise. Remus flushed an even darker
shade of red. The rest of the boys were all blushing, too, but none as hard as Remus.

“No, of course n—” he started, trying to grab it back. Mary brought the bag to her nose, inhaled,
and laughed, holding it back out to him.

“It is,” she interrupted, crossing her arms and grinning at him in amusement. “I know what pot
smells like, Remus.”

“Pot as in…?” Hestia asked from the door, her eyebrows raised, a look of confusion and surprise on
her face.

“Cannabis, marijuana, weed,” Emmeline supplemented, her eyebrows also raised, but a look of
casual amusement on her face as she crossed her arms, too, staring around the compartment at the
boys.

“How do you know what pot smells like, then?” Remus asked defensively, snatching the bag from
Mary and stowing it in his bag. Now it was Mary’s turn to blush lightly.

“My Muggle friends introduced it to me over the summer,” she admitted. “I didn’t know wizards
smoked it.”

“Not a lot of them do, I don’t think,” Sirius said, smirking slightly over at Remus, who was still
blushing. He turned to look at her, a wide, winning grin plastered onto his face. “So, good summer,
Mary?”

Mary got the impression Sirius was trying to change the subject to shield Remus from further
embarrassment. She smiled at him, willing to let it slide.

“Yeah, it was good. Yours?” Then she winced internally, wondering if that was an insensitive
question to ask. They’d all seen his boggart the previous year, after all.

Sirius just grinned back, however, lounging in his seat carelessly. “Not bad, not bad,” he replied.
“Spent the last three weeks with James, here.”

“That sounds nice,” Mary said politely, smiling over at James, too, who grinned back at her.

“Hey, there you all are!” another voice from the doorway said, and Mary turned to find Marlene,
who had appeared suddenly between Hestia and Emmeline, with Dorcas a little ways behind her.
Hestia had been correct—Marlene had grown a lot over the summer, now surpassing Emmeline by
a good inch. A wide, familiar smile split her fair, freckled face as she gazed at Mary.

“Have you gotten shorter, Mac?” she asked, a grin in her voice. Mary rolled her eyes, and made her
way over to Marlene, hugging her.

“Everyone can shove the comments about my height,” she said, her voice slightly muffled by
Marlene’s jacket. “Just because you all got taller over the summer and I didn’t…”

“Only teasing,” Marlene said, pulling back and smiling down at her. “Anyway, what are you all
doing, hovering about? Sit down, why don’t you!”

They all hastened to do so. It was a tight fit, but they managed it. In the commotion of them all
greeting one another and trying to figure out where everyone would be sitting, the topic of Remus’
pot was forgotten, or at least abandoned. Mary didn’t bring it up, as she wanted to spare Remus any
embarrassment that further questions might bring, though she was burning with curiosity about
where he’d gotten it. She’d never pegged Remus as a stoner type, but she found the revelation
actually made her like him more.

Soon enough, after they’d all caught up on their summers, Emmeline brought up Quidditch. “Do
either of you know who got Captain?” she asked James and Marlene.

“Florey did,” Marlene said, grinning excitedly. “She wrote me over the summer to tell me when
we all got our Hogwarts letters!”

“Really? Wow,” Emmeline said, looking surprised. “I mean, she’s an amazing Quidditch player,
but I was kind of expecting Chris since he’s less of a troublemaker.”

“I think Sam might have put a good word in for Florey,” Marlene said. “I mean, she was kind of his
protégé, even though she caused him a lot of trouble, too. I think she’ll be a good leader.”

“Maybe she’ll set practice for a bit later in the morning,” Emmeline added hopefully. James and
Marlene laughed, exchanging an amused glance.

Mary smiled, then turned to Dorcas. She didn’t have much interest in Quidditch talk. “Looking
forward to the year?”

“Yeah, I suppose I am,” Dorcas replied, smiling. “The summer was good, but I missed having
classes. I’ll probably be eating my words once we get into the second week, though.”

Mary laughed. “I know what you mean. It will be nice, though, to catch up with everyone. Have
you seen Lily?”

“No, not yet,” Dorcas replied. “I wrote to her a bit over the summer, though, sounds like she had a
good one. Her family went to Scotland for a bit, she told me. Sounded interesting.”

“Maybe I’ll hear about it later,” Mary said, though she doubted it. She continued to chat with
Dorcas as the train sped into the countryside, the day passing pleasantly in the noisy, crowded
compartment as they moved toward Hogwarts. Mary realized that she’d missed this, the feeling of
magic all around her, the air almost crackling with it as she sat with the other Gryffindors. This was
what made all the challenges worth it, in the end.

....

The first few weeks of term passed without event. Dorcas had been right in saying that the novelty
of being back at school would wear off quickly, and Mary felt it, as though she was enjoying her
classes, she tired quickly of all the work they’d been given.

Mary settled back into her usual routine, however. She went to classes, mealtimes, and then spent
hours completing her homework in the library before retiring to the common room or her
dormitory. In the library, Mary was usually accompanied, as ever, by Lily and Remus, the other
two people in her year in Gryffindor who preferred its quiet atmosphere above all else. Others
sometimes joined the trio, but Emmeline preferred to study in the dormitory, and Dorcas out on the
grounds, or in odd abandoned places in the castle, while the rest often studied in the common
room.

When she wasn’t studying, Mary spent her time with her friends or exploring the grounds on her
own. She liked to sit on the bank of the lake at dusk, walk along the edge of the Forbidden Forest,
or around the Quidditch pitch. The grounds seemed endless, and while some part of her yearned to
go into the Forbidden Forest and explore further, perhaps to find some of the magical creatures that
lived in there, she resisted the urge. While the prospect fascinated Mary, it also scared her a bit,
and she may have been brave, but she wasn’t reckless. I’m not Marlene, Mary thought with a smile.

In truth, Mary sometimes explored the grounds alone to escape the people around her. She’d
always been an introvert, but recently she’d felt the need to escape from other people her age even
more than usual. Since the previous year, a startling change had come over her classmates, one
which still confused Mary. Seemingly out of the blue, they’d all begun to talk non-stop about all
things romantic.

Now, it seemed like every other conversation she had with her roommates was about boys. Even
Miranda, who Mary had sometimes sought refuge with during the previous year to avoid this sort
of talk, hadn’t been able to resist telling Mary about who she fancied that year.

“I know you’re not the biggest fan of this sort of talk,” Miranda had said to Mary one day, smiling
teasingly at her. “That’s why I tried not to bring it up much last year. But you must like someone
by now, mustn’t you? It’s perfectly normal for people our age!”

Mary sighed, her hand tracing over the bark of a tree on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Miranda
was right, of course, it was perfectly normal for people their age. So why did it bother Mary so
much when others talked about it? She couldn’t help but feel a sense of wrongness in herself, of
shame. Why hadn’t she fancied someone by then?

It was true that Mary could sort of tell when someone was attractive or not, based on comparing
them to people on the cover of Witch Weekly or Muggle magazines, or listening to the other girls in
her dormitory talk, but someone’s objective attractiveness, or lack thereof, never made Mary feel
anything. When she was drawn to people, it was because they were nice, interesting, funny, or
smart, not because they were attractive, and then she only wanted to be their friend.

The previous year, she’d admitted her feelings to Dorcas on the topic, and Dorcas had seemed to
relate, but the other girl had never spoken to her about it since. She didn’t talk about boys, either,
though, so sometimes Mary sought refuge with her. Still, Mary thought as she trekked up back to
the castle, she didn’t want to devalue her friends’ interest in romance. It was important to them, and
it was important to her for them to be happy. But really, did they have to talk about it so much?

When Mary re-entered the Gryffindor common room fifteen minutes later, she joined Hestia,
Emmeline, and Dorcas in the corner.

“It’s downright annoying,” Emmeline was saying, though a slight, amused smile played across her
face.

“What is?” Mary asked, sitting down and setting her bag down beside her. Emmeline smiled at her
in greeting.

“Marlene fancies Chris,” she said, referring to one of the sixth-year Chasers from the Gryffindor
Quidditch team. “She thinks she’s being sly about it, but it’s obvious to James and I, and probably
the rest of the team. Marley being Marley, she’s not shy around him or anything like you’d expect,
she’s even more obnoxious, trying to impress him or whatever.”

“Oh,” Mary said, sighing internally. “That does sound annoying.”

Dorcas wasn’t looking at the rest of them but bent over her book. Hestia looked over at Dorcas,
tilting her head slightly. “Has she said anything to you, Dee?”

“Hmm?” Dorcas hummed, looking up, but Mary could tell she’d been listening.

“About her fancying Christopher,” Hestia elaborated, raising her eyebrows. Dorcas shrugged.

“She hasn’t flat out told me she fancies him,” she replied. “But like you said, it’s a bit obvious.”

“Thank you,” Emmeline said, rolling her eyes. “I swear, it’s not like he’s ever going to date her.
He’s a sixth year, for Merlin’s sake.”

Dorcas made a small, noncommittal noise in her throat, turning back to her book. “At least it gets
her off the topic of Florence for five minutes,” she said casually, though Mary thought she saw a
flash of pain in her friend’s downturned eyes which she couldn’t explain. “I get enough Florence
talk from both Marley and James combined, ever since first year.”

“Well, James has always fancied her,” Hestia said, laughing. “It’s obvious.”

“Marlene?” Mary asked, confused.

“No, of course not!” Hestia exclaimed, letting out a laugh. “Florence!”

“Oh,” Mary said. She glanced at Dorcas again, whose eyes were glued back on her Arithmancy
book. Looking back up at Emmeline, Mary changed the subject. “Want a game of chess?”

....

As the days shortened and they moved into November, their workload increased even more, and
Mary was glad for any burst of light in the midst of the never-ending piles of essays she had to
complete. More often than not, these bright spots came in the form of letters from home, especially
those which contained polaroid pictures of her little sister, Clementine, grinning toothily at the
camera, sometimes accompanied by Paul or her mother. She treasured these photographs and
reminders of home, used them as bookmarks for her textbooks and stuck them in her bag, which
she hauled from lesson to lesson. Recently, she’d needed the comfort.

Over the course of the past two months, Mary had seen another, darker change happening amongst
the students. Reports had come out in the papers recently of a new dark wizard at large who was
proclaiming himself against Muggles and Muggle-born wizards. The wizard, who called himself
Lord Voldemort, was stirring up the wizarding world in a way that Mary had never seen before in
her few short years at Hogwarts.

Students whispered in the hallways, falling silent when teachers walked by. There was a sense of
barely contained excitement about the castle. If she’d asked anyone, Mary was sure that they’d
deny it, but some of her classmates seemed fascinated with the intrigue of what was happening in
the wizarding world, looking on in awe like it was some kind of film being enacted before their
eyes.

Luckily, none of her roommates acted this way, and Mary was somewhat surprised by but
respected the way that both James Potter and Sirius Black demonstrated nothing but disgust in
regard to the whole topic, snapping at anyone who brought up the events with any tone even close
to interest. Remus, too, took it all very seriously, but this did not surprise Mary in the least. In fact,
she’d had several conversations with him about the topic as they studied in the library together.

“Lily stays away more now than she used to,” Mary had pointed out one day, looking up from her
books.

“Yeah, I suppose she hasn’t joined us much in the last few weeks,” Remus replied, glancing up at
her across the table briefly, his quill barely pausing its scribbling. They were seated in an
abandoned corner of the library, far away from Madam Pince’s chair, so that she couldn’t yell at
them for talking.

“I think it’s about Snape,” Mary said in a low voice, peering across at Remus, trying to gauge his
reaction. “She thinks if she spends more time with him, he’ll spend less time with his Slytherin
friends, and he’ll listen to them less, especially with everything that’s going on.”

Remus looked up to meet her eyes fully this time, his blue ones unreadable. “Do you think that will
work?” he asked quietly. Mary liked this about Remus: he always seemed calm and steady, even,
or perhaps especially, when a difficult subject or situation arose. Mary shrugged, meeting his eyes
candidly.

“No, not really,” she said. “I’ve never thought he was a very nice person, but he’s gotten worse
over the years. All the Slytherins have, really, and he says those slurs just as much as the rest of
them.”

“Yes, he does,” Remus said, a look of disgust coming across his face. Mary thought this was rather
unusual, to see Remus express open dislike for someone else. She studied him thoughtfully.

“Snape isn’t very nice to you either, is he?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. “I mean, I already
know he’s awful to me.”

Remus met her eyes, his blue ones searching her brown ones for a second, then sighed. “No, he
isn’t very nice to me, not at all.”

“Is it because you hang around Sirius and James, and he hates them, d’you think?”

“I think that’s part of it,” Remus said, glancing down at his parchment for a second, breaking their
eye contact. “It’s complicated, I suppose. Snape hates James and Sirius, of course, partly because
he’s jealous of them. They come from prominent pureblood families and are some of the best in
the class without trying too hard. With me, well, we’re both half-bloods. I think he resents that
despite that fact, people are friendly with me, when practically no one likes him. That’s at least a
part of it.”

Mary nodded. She paused for a moment, looking down at her parchment again, then looked back at
Remus. She could tell Remus, she thought. She trusted him.

“I hate him,” she admitted quietly. “Snape, I mean. But not just him, all of them. They’re awful to
me.” She knew he’d know who she meant. The group of Slytherin boys in their year was infamous
for their nastiness. They always stayed in a pack, sneering, jeering, and casting looks at people like
her that made her skin crawl.

Remus nodded, meeting her eyes again. “I know,” he said. “Me too.”

“Have you noticed that they’ve been getting worse, recently?” Mary asked. “Ever since Voldemort
has been in the paper, they keep whispering to each other and they’re even more vicious than
ever.”
“I’ve noticed, yes,” Remus said, frowning slightly in a way that Mary had learned over the years
meant that he was thinking hard. “A lot of people around here seem different, lately, too.”

“They treat it like it’s a spectacle,” Mary said, her voice filled with disgust. “It’s people’s lives.”

Remus sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “People our age aren’t always the most sensitive,
are they?” he asked, quirking a half-smile at her in tired amusement and meeting her eyes. She let
out a slight snort of laughter. She wasn’t quite sure why she was laughing, but it was rather
ridiculous, and, after a moment, Remus began to laugh a bit as well. They tried to muffle the sound,
so as not to attract Madam Pince, who would skin them alive.

“It’s not funny, really,” Remus said after a moment after they’d stopped. “It’s fucking atrocious,
isn’t it? But it’s a bit ridiculous, too.”

“It is,” Mary said, grinning slightly at his swearing. He’d been doing it more and more lately, and
she found it rather freeing to hear him swear. It reminded her of Laura and Suzy back home, of
those hours and days they’d spent smoking in caves and ranting about the world where no one
could hear them. The swearing seemed out of place to the Remus she’d thought she’d known
before, but then again, she’d not really gotten to know him very well before this year. Perhaps this
was just Remus, she thought, and the real Remus smoked pot, and swore, and she’d just never
discovered it before Lily had left them alone for longer. Now, she considered him a friend, perhaps
even a close friend, and she liked having him around, even if they were only studying in silence.

“It is fucking atrocious,” she added, mimicking him, and he grinned at her.

The two looked at each other for another moment before Mary turned back to her essay. Remus
returned to his own, as well, a slight smile playing across his face. As Mary glanced up to look at
him once or twice while they were both working, for the first time, Mary realized that she thought
Remus might be good-looking, whatever that meant. He had nice eyes, she decided as she studied
him surreptitiously, and a nice smile. More than that, he was a good person.

It was strange, she thought, that she should only realize this now. She’d never, not in her memory
at least, thought that about anyone that way before. But at that moment, looking at Remus, she
thought she might understand a very small piece of what her friends had been going on about for
the very first time. Mary smiled slightly and turned back to her essay. She’d figure out what it all
meant later.
 1974: Jealousy, Jealousy
Chapter Notes

cw: underage drug use (medicinal purposes)

Remus was woken on the morning of November 3rd, 1974 by a pillow, which flew neatly through
the gap in his hangings and hit him in the stomach. Groaning and rubbing his eyes, Remus pushed
himself onto his elbows just in time to squint in the morning light as Sirius yanked his curtains
open.

“Up and at ‘em, Remus,” Sirius said, grinning and pulling Remus’ cover back.

Remus shivered slightly in the cold air. It was early November, after all, and he only slept in a t-
shirt and pants. He rolled his eyes and swung his legs out of bed, running a hand through his
rumpled hair as he did so.

“Happy birthday,” he mumbled, leaning over to look at the clock on his bedside table. “It’s fucking
seven a.m..”

Remus was decidedly not a morning person, and Sirius wasn’t usually, either, but his birthdays
were a special case. Remus tried not to be resentful about the fact that it was a Sunday, one of the
only days of the week when he usually got to sleep in.

“Charming as ever,” Sirius said, beaming at Remus. Remus knew that Sirius enjoyed hearing him
swear, given the fact that the other boy always made jokes about it. The way Sirius told it, it was
proof that he was corrupting Remus, which was probably true. “Needed to get an early start to my
fifteenth year, didn’t I?”

“If you say so,” Remus said, yawning. “Let me wake up a bit, then I swear I’ll be more excited
about your birthday.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not offended,” Sirius replied, grinning. “You’re a lot more cheery than you
usually are in the mornings. James actually refused to be in the dorm when I woke you up. He said
that if you decided to commit murder, he could claim plausible deniability.”

“Nice to know that James would defend me if I murdered you,” Remus said, standing and
stretching. His body had become rather lanky over the past two summers, and though he and James
still stood at the same height, and were both growing slowly and steadily, they had different builds.
Unlike James, Remus felt as if his body was all elbows and knees, awkward and ungraceful.
Sometimes he thought he looked like a puppy with paws too big for the rest of its body, an
impression which was only reinforced by his tendency to bump into things.

“Well, he also said that you might be less likely to kill me than him,” Sirius said, his tone mild.
“But perhaps that’s just because it’s my birthday.”

Remus snorted, casting a sarcastic look at Sirius, behind him, as he rummaged around in his
wardrobe for clothes to throw on. “Don’t go around with the impression that I have a soft spot for
you, Sirius,” he said. “I would be just as likely to murder you as James any other day of the year if
you woke me up this early.”

Sirius let out a bark of a laugh. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t getting presumptuous,” he said, a teasing
note in his voice. Remus rolled his eyes, grabbed his clothes, and headed to the bathroom, Sirius
moving over to prod Peter awake in the same abrupt fashion he’d used to wake Remus.

In the bathroom, Remus pulled on his clothes: an oversized sweater, pants, trousers, and wool
socks, then brushed his teeth. He splashed some water on his face for good measure, and when he
reappeared, he felt slightly more alert. Peter was now awake, too, dressing blearily as Sirius
bounced on the balls of his feet.

“What are we doing today?” Remus asked, smiling slightly at Sirius’ obvious excitement.

“I want to go for a fly around the grounds first,” Sirius said. “Then, I dunno. Make it up as we go, I
suppose?”

“We could go into Hogsmeade,” Peter suggested, his head emerging from the neck of his
sweatshirt. “Since we found that one-eyed witch passageway last week.”

“Good idea, Pete!” Sirius said, clapping him on the back. “Let’s go meet James in the common
room. Marley might be up, too. We can ask her to join.”

When they descended the dormitory stairs, they did indeed find Marlene sitting beside James next
to the fire, the common room deserted but for them. Both rose when they heard Sirius, Remus, and
Peter coming, turning to greet them. Marlene smiled and moved to give Sirius a hug, slapping him
on the back affectionately.

“Happy birthday, arsehole!” she exclaimed cheerfully, and he grinned back at her.

“Fifteen,” James commented, grinning as they turned to walk out of the portrait hole. “How does it
feel?”

“Mature,” Sirius said, adopting a mock-thoughtful expression. “I am now wise beyond my years,
don’t you forget that. When I was your age—”

“Oi, can it, you do this every year,” Remus interrupted, rolling his eyes. Sirius shot him a smile
and promptly shut up.

They had a very enjoyable morning, taking turns flying on Marlene’s, James’, and Emmeline’s
brooms, the latter of which Marlene assured them would be fine to borrow. Remus mostly watched,
as he wasn’t much of a flier, but he liked seeing the look of pure joy on Sirius’ face as he rocketed
around with James, Marlene, and Peter.

After the others were thoroughly flied-out, they returned the brooms to the locker rooms and
headed up to breakfast, all a bit sweaty.

The other Gryffindor girls wished Sirius a happy birthday at breakfast, even Lily, who admittedly
said it a bit stiffly. After they’d eaten, the boys said goodbye to Dorcas and Marlene, who were
planning to go and hang around the grounds for the day. The boys were purposefully vague about
what their plans were, as they considered their trip into Hogsmeade almost a sacred mission just for
the four of them.

At the beginning of the term, they’d begun the rather ambitious project of mapping out the school.
Given the amount of time they’d all spent sneaking around the castle both before and after dark in
their three-plus years there, they knew it quite well. Still, the project had spurred them to get to
know the place even better, leading them to find several new secret passages, such as the one to the
Honeydukes cellar.

In the present, they made sure the coast was clear before James pulled out his wand and whispered
“Dissendium,” tapping the one-eyed witch’s hump. It opened at once, and, one by one, they
climbed into it. Sirius went last, and Remus had to scramble away from the slide quickly so that
Sirius’ feet would not hit him in the back as he slid down it.

As soon as they were all in the passageway, the light disappeared from the one-eyed witch’s hump,
indicating that it’d closed by itself, and they set off. It took a good thirty minutes for them to reach
Honeydukes, and after Sirius looked through the crack in the trapdoor and confirmed that no one
was in the cellar, they climbed out. There was a scuffle when James threw the cloak over them so
they could sneak past the shopkeepers, as it was much harder for them all to fit under it now than
it’d been when they’d been eleven.

“Remus, bend your knees. You’re too tall!” Sirius hissed, nudging him. Remus prodded him in the
ribs in retaliation.

“I am—it’s James who’s not doing it.”

“I was just getting my bearings, come on,” James replied, amusement in his voice, and they set off
up the stairs.

Given that it was a Sunday, the shop was relatively busy with witches and wizards, so their feet
went unnoticed, and, soon enough, they exited the crowded store and pulled off the cloak in the
sunlight outside.

“So, lads, what shall we do?” James asked, straightening up and rumpling his hair, light glinting
off his glasses as he grinned around at them.

“What do you want to do?” Remus asked, turning to Sirius and raising his eyebrows.

Sirius grinned brilliantly back at him. “Let’s go to the Hog’s Head. I want to see if I can get the
barman to give me some firewhiskey.”

“Oh, come on,” Peter said, rolling his eyes. “It’s like ten a.m. and you’re fifteen. He’s never going
to—”

“Don’t know until we’ve tried, Pete!” Sirius said, grinning and clapping the shorter boy on the
back before racing off in the other direction.

Peter was right in the end—the barman took one look at them and told them to leave his bar, which
Sirius did with a pout on his face. Still, they settled in the Three Broomsticks with little fuss, and
sat happily with their butterbeers for an hour, laughing and talking. Sirius and James even tried to
charm Rosmerta, too, into giving them some kind of alcoholic drink, to which she laughed so hard
she almost fell off her stool behind the bar. She consented to talk with them for several more
minutes, however, and they joked back and forth with grins on their faces. At the very least, Remus
hoped they’d charmed her well enough that she wouldn’t tell the teachers that they’d been out of
bounds.

After they left the Three Broomsticks they went to Zonko’s Joke Shop and explored the shelves for
a while, scheming about what their next prank should be. When they finally got bored of the
village, Sirius suggested that they explore the hillside past the stile at the end of the road, so they
set off to climb the boulders. They stopped at the mouth of a cave about half an hour into the
climb, and Remus clutched at a stitch in his side as James, Sirius, and Peter peered inside
curiously. Looking up across the village, Remus caught sight of the faraway shack, lonely on the
opposite hill, and his muscles tensed slightly.

A hand on his back startled him, and he turned to see Sirius standing there, looking at him with his
piercing grey eyes. “Soon we’ll be there with you, you know,” he said, his voice steady and full of
certainty.

Remus smiled slightly, trying to brush off the moment of dread as he thought about the next full
moon. “I know you will,” he replied. Truthfully, he wasn’t as confident as he pretended. After all,
it’d been two years, and the three boys had made almost no progress on becoming Animagi thus
far.

“We will do it,” Sirius said, as though he was reading Remus’ mind. “Or die trying,” he added, a
note of slight amusement in his voice, but Remus wondered how serious he really was.

“I believe you,” Remus said, smiling back at him. “I’d never doubt the power of your will, Sirius.”

“Good, you’d better not,” Sirius said, grinning mischievously. “Now, let’s get back to the castle.
I’m feeling like going and getting Dorcas to convince the other girls to hang out in our dorm this
evening. Maybe we can play games or something.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Who knows, maybe Evans’ll be busy with Snivellus, even,” Sirius remarked as they began to
descend the hill. “It is my birthday, after all. Miracles can happen.”

James and Peter laughed while Remus only rolled his eyes, not in the mood to rebuke Sirius for his
jibe about Lily at the moment. As they crept back down into the Honeydukes cellar, Remus saw
Sirius slip some candies into his pocket from the storeroom. He raised his eyebrows and Sirius
grinned.

“It’s a special occasion.”

“You could’ve just bought them upstairs.”

“Oh, hush, you two,” James broke in, rummaging in his pockets and setting down a galleon on the
top of one of the boxes, which Remus knew would pay for what Sirius had taken many times over.
“Look, there, no stealing necessary. Let’s go.”

They talked the whole time as they walked back through the tunnel to Hogwarts, wondering what
the girls were up to, speculating at what kind of games they should play that evening, and
discussing plans for the map.

“There must be tons of other secret passageways to find,” James said. “I mean, we know about this
one and the one under the Whomping Willow, obviously, but there have to be more.”

“We have three more years to find them all,” Remus pointed out. “I’m sure we will.”

“And we’ll leave the map for future mischief makers!” Sirius exclaimed, his wide grin visible even
in the darkness.

When they finally reached the slide and climbed out one by one, closing the hump behind them,
they were greeted with the sound of footsteps. In a second, Professor McGonagall had rounded the
corner and stopped dead, staring at them suspiciously. They shuffled their feet slightly, trying to
wipe the looks of guilt off of their faces as they stood in a suspicious line with their backs to the
statue.

“What are you marauders doing around here?” McGonagall asked in her sharp, Scottish accent.
“You aren’t trying to blow up this statue, I hope? Or charm it to say foul words, as you did with all
the portraits on the sixth floor in September?”

“Allegedly,” Sirius broke in, plastering a winning grin onto his face. “You can’t prove that that was
us, Professor.”

She stared down at him over the tops of her square spectacles, an exasperated look on her face.
“Well, you’d better get off to dinner. I shall wait to see if you’ve planned some trouble, and punish
you then.”

“Sounds good, Professor,” James said, giving her a wide, cheeky smile and a thumbs up. They
walked past her towards the Great Hall, but turned when she spoke over her shoulder:

“Oh, and Mr. Black—happy birthday.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Sirius replied, flashing her a wide smile, which she returned with a small
one of her own before walking away.

“Told you she loves me,” Sirius said, and James shoved him.

“I’m better at Transfiguration, she loves me more.”

“Not a chance, Potter!”

“What’s a marauder, anyway?” Peter asked.

“Someone who steals or plunders, like a pirate,” Sirius responded promptly, and when Remus
stared at him in surprise, he shrugged. “What? I read!”

“It has a nice ring to it,” James said, grinning. “The Marauders.”

“Oh, don’t tell me we’re giving ourselves a group name, now,” Remus joked, rolling his eyes. “I’m
already embarrassed enough to be your guys’ friend, I’m not sure if I can handle much more.”

Sirius dived at Remus, a wicked smile on his face as he tried to get him into a headlock, and
Remus leapt away. James whooped and joined in the chase, Peter laughing at their heels as they
chased Remus all the way to dinner. When they got there, they were all panting and laughing, and
Remus wasn’t able to avoid both Sirius and James ruffling up his hair in retaliation before they sat
down to eat.

Miraculously, that evening Sirius got his wish, as Lily was nowhere to be found. Remus suspected
that she’d had no desire to celebrate Sirius’ birthday with him and purposefully made herself
scarce, and Remus was very grateful, especially after Hestia cheerfully produced the game of
Monopoly that she’d brought from home. Remus had never played before, but he soon realized
that it was a very good thing that Lily wasn’t present, as he suspected if she had been, she and
Sirius would have turned the board over in a row at some point.

James and Peter lost spectacularly, as neither could quite get the hang of the fake Muggle money,
but Sirius caught on rather quickly, and ended the game in a heated battle between him and Dorcas,
though Dorcas won in the end. She let out a loud cheer and got up to do a little victory dance when
he finally landed on her Boardwalk hotel, while Sirius rolled his eyes.
“You should’ve let me win,” he grumbled, clearly trying hard not to let his competitive side win
over to allow him to snap at her. “It’s my birthday. It’s only right.”

“Sorry, Black,” Dorcas said, looking not apologetic in the slightest as she grinned, crouching down
to give him a peck on the cheek. “Maybe next time.”

Sirius looked briefly mollified by this, and shrugged, seeming to try to cast off the disappointment
as he and Dorcas began to pack away the game.

“Fifteen must feel old,” Mary commented casually, unwrapping a candy that they’d brought back
from Honeydukes and popping it into her mouth. “It’s crazy, I only just turned fourteen in August.”

“Oh, don’t get him started,” Remus joked, giving Sirius a pointed look as he grinned at Mary.
Sirius ignored him.

“For some reason, it does feel a lot older than fourteen,” he told her. “But I guess that’s true with
every year.”

“Some years just feel older than others,” Hestia broke in, nodding. “Like, thirteen was a big deal,
because then you’re a teenager instead of a preteen. And seventeen is obviously a huge deal
because then we can use magic outside of school.”

“What’s fifteen, then? Just the midpoint between those,” Marlene said, smirking at Sirius. He
threw an empty candy wrapper at her, which lost any sense of its destination midway through the
air and floated to the ground. Marlene laughed at his poor attempt.

“You just wait until you turn fifteen, McKinnon,” he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he
smirked at her. “In five whole months.”

“Oh, shut up,” Marlene retorted, rolling her eyes.

“Your birthday’s in March, isn’t it, Remus?” Mary asked.

“Yeah, it is,” Remus said, smiling at her.

“You’re the next one to turn fifteen after me,” Sirius said. “Merlin, you’re all so much younger
than me. Why on earth do I hang around you?”

“No,” Dorcas contradicted him. “It’s Lily who’s next. Her birthday’s at the end of January.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, as if to say that he wasn’t counting Lily, but didn’t respond.

....

As the days grew shorter in November, the work that their professors assigned increased steadily,
forcing Remus to spend long hours in the library. It was mostly only Mary he worked beside these
days, Lily having been continually absent from many of their study sessions that year. Remus
didn’t really mind, though he did worry sometimes about the redhead spending so much time with
Snape.

What did make the situation a little awkward, however, was that Remus was beginning to suspect
that Mary fancied him. Granted, he knew he wasn’t the best at judging these kinds of things, but
the longer they spent together the more convinced Remus was that he was right. Mary was subtle,
but he occasionally looked up to find her eyes on him for a little too long before she looked away,
cheeks tinged pink, and she’d begun to seek him out more and more to spend time together even
when they weren’t studying.

Remus, for his part, was at a loss for what to do about it. He really liked Mary as a friend—in fact,
he’d begun to like her more and more the longer they spent together, as she became less shy around
him—but as something more? He couldn’t picture it.

Mary was nice-looking, sure. She was short, with a heart-shaped face and pretty, light brown eyes,
her curves beginning to be more pronounced than they had in previous years. Still, none of those
observations made him feel anything for her. He could easily see someone else liking her, but not
him. And even if he did, at some point, develop feelings for her or anyone, what was the point?

Remus had given this subject a great deal of thought the previous year when all of his classmates
seemed to become obsessed with dating, and James had gotten his first girlfriend. In the end, he
came to the conclusion that it was all well and good for them to have fun with it, but that he’d
likely never date anyone. It was too dangerous, what with trying to keep his secret from people.
What if the girl he dated found out, and told everyone? No, he thought to himself, it’s better not to
risk it. Still, this didn’t solve the problem of what to do about Mary.

“I think Mary fancies me,” Remus admitted one afternoon after classes in the fourth-year boys’
dormitory. James almost got whiplash as he turned his head to look at Remus, while Remus saw
Sirius, out of the corner of his eye, bump his head on his bed frame as he straightened up too
quickly. Peter looked up from where he was sitting on his bed, studying Remus carefully but not
speaking.

“Macdonald?” James demanded, a wide grin breaking across his face as he began to laugh. “So
that’s why you’ve been spending so much time with her in the library. Remus, you’ve been holding
out on us!”

“No, I—” Remus flushed, shaking his head vigorously. “I don’t fancy her, we’ve just been
studying a lot together lately, and I get the feeling that she likes me.”

“Oh,” James said, his face falling slightly in disappointment, clearly having relished the idea of
teasing Remus about this new development. “Well, do you really not fancy her, like you wouldn’t
want to date her, or do you just sort of not fancy her, like you would say yes if she asked you out?”

“The former, I suppose,” Remus replied, shifting awkwardly on his feet. “I mean, Mary’s nice,
she’s cool, and all of that, but I just wouldn’t…I wouldn’t go there, you know? We’re friends, isn’t
that enough?”

“Obviously not for her, if she fancies you,” Sirius muttered.

Remus’ eyes shifted towards Sirius, but Sirius wasn’t looking at him, as he appeared to be
searching his trunk for something. Peter glanced over to Sirius, too, and when Remus looked at
him, he met his gaze and shrugged apologetically, as if he knew no more than Remus about what
was going on with their friend. Remus knew that Peter liked to stay out of these kinds of things
when he could.

“Well, just tell her you don’t have feelings for her or something,” James suggested, shrugging. “I
mean, can’t be that hard? Mind you, I’ve only ever been dumped, I’ve never had to let someone
down or whatever.”

“Maybe I should just leave it alone, let her get over it on her own?” Remus asked anxiously.

“Oh, no,” Sirius said, looking up finally, his voice sharp. “Don’t do the Remus disappearing thing.
You always do that. It’s way worse for people than if you just talked to them.”

There was a moment of silence where Remus stared at Sirius, taken aback, but it was James who
broke it. “Come on, Sirius, don’t be an arsehole.”

“You agree with me, though, don’t you?” Sirius shot back. “He should just talk to her.” Sirius
looked to James, who was giving him the sort of disappointed expression Remus thought his
mother had worn once or twice when a rabbit had gotten into their vegetable garden, then to Peter,
who quickly looked away, clearly wanting to avoid giving even the inkling of an opinion on the
dispute. Sirius huffed, then addressed his next words to Remus.

“If you don’t, she’s just gonna ask you to Hogsmeade or something, and you’ll have to say no then,
so—”

“Okay, okay, I get the point,” Remus said, still feeling a bit hurt by Sirius’ words and his tone.
Sirius shrugged, then went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. James shot a
disgruntled look at the closed door before turning back to Remus.

“Sorry,” he said. “He’s an arse.”

“I guess,” Remus said. “It’s true, though, isn’t it? That I disappear when I don’t want to talk about
things.”

“I mean, you did in second year when we found out you were a werewolf,” James admitted,
shrugging. “I don’t know if you’ve done it since. Don’t worry, though, Sirius’ll get over whatever
mood he’s in. Maybe he’ll take it out on Evans.”

“That’ll be fun,” Peter said, rolling his eyes and speaking for the first time, now that the verbal
tennis match was over. “Sometimes I think Sirius could do with being a little less direct about his
feelings.”

Remus sighed, slumping back on his own bed and ignoring Sirius when he came out of the
bathroom.

....

The mysterious ice between the two boys lasted longer than Remus would’ve expected. Though he
tried to act naturally with Sirius at breakfast on Wednesday morning, in Charms, Remus still made
a point to sit next to Peter instead of Sirius, as he wasn’t sure if he wanted to deal with any
remaining temper tantrums the other boy had left in him. It was useless, though, as upon entering
the classroom, Professor Flitwick asked them to stand up and get out their wands, clearing the
desks away to the sides of the room, as they were to practice banishing.

It was an enjoyable lesson, as they practiced the spell with large, square cushions which they tried
to banish neatly into the cupboard. However, James lost control of his cushion completely at one
point, knocking it into Lily and causing her to fall over, then rise to her feet and send her own
cushion directly at him. James was knocked sideways and stumbled into Sirius’ back, who fell
over onto Remus, the two of them going down in a jumble of limbs. Sirius’ forehead bumped into
Remus’ cheek, and for a moment, Remus felt Sirius’ warm breath on his neck as his back hit the
ground, knocking the wind out of him.

For a split-second, Remus’ blue eyes locked on Sirius’ grey ones. Oh, was the only thing that
Remus registered going through his mind as he looked up at Sirius, not quite able to breathe. He
realized that he’d never been so close to his friend’s face before, and his eyes traced along Sirius’
sharp jawline, noting only slightly bitterly how smooth his skin was, as he alone among the boys
had escaped the curse of pimples. His gaze traced the curve of one of Sirius’ cheekbones, the ridge
of his brows, then drifted back to his eyes, framed by dark lashes.

It was only a moment, but for some reason, it felt like an eternity. In another second, however, the
bubble around them broke, and Sirius began to laugh, while Remus lay still stunned underneath
him, looking at Sirius’ silky dark hair, which was currently in his eyes. Soon, the other boy was
already getting off of him, still laughing and offering him a hand up.

“Thanks for that, Evans,” Sirius shot at her as he turned away, Remus brushing off his robes,
feeling a bit shaken. Lily crossed her arms over her chest and quirked an eyebrow at him
threateningly.

“Sorry about that, Remus,” she said, smiling challengingly at Sirius as she said it. Remus gave her
a smile that he hoped seemed genuine, though he worried it looked more like a pained grimace.

“No problem.”

Remus went back to trying to banish his cushion, pushing the incident to the back of his mind. In
the corridor after class, he walked away absentmindedly, not truly paying attention to where he was
going until Mary caught up to him, clutching her books to her chest.

“Hey, Remus,” she greeted him. “D’you want to come study in the library?”

“Oh, I dunno,” Remus said, glancing at her sideways, feeling uncomfortable. “I’m not sure, I might
go back to the dormitory. I’m a bit tired.”

“Oh,” Mary said, looking a little disappointed, but seeming to rally quickly. “That’s fine. No
worries.”

“Sorry,” he said, feeling quite sorry, indeed, not just for her, but for himself, too. Why was his life
so complicated at the moment? And why couldn’t he muster up the courage to just tell her straight
out that he didn’t like her like that, instead of, in Sirius’ words, doing the ‘Remus disappearing
thing?’

The other boys had vanished in the time it took for him to talk to Mary, so Remus headed up to the
Gryffindor common room on his own while she departed for the library. When he reached the
safety of his dormitory, he collapsed back on his bed with a sigh, his mind churning with thoughts.
The door of the bathroom opened, and Sirius walked out, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw
Remus. Remus didn’t sit up, but locked eyes with Sirius, just as he had in class. The silence
between them was awkward, and Sirius’ cheeks pinked ever so slightly as he looked at Remus.

“We went ahead of you because we saw you talking to Macdonald,” Sirius said finally, breaking
the eye contact and walking over to his bed. He grabbed a glass of water on the bedside table and
took a sip, avoiding Remus’ eye. “Thought you might be figuring stuff out.”

“Oh, yeah…” Remus said, feeling guilt wash over him again. Sirius turned and fixed him with a
suspicious look.

“You didn’t talk to her, did you?” he accused Remus. “You just brushed her off.”

“It’s none of your business, Sirius,” Remus muttered, feeling defensive under Sirius’ accusatory
glare. “I don’t know why you’re being like this.”

“I just think you shouldn’t jerk people around,” Sirius said, his jaw clenched as he set the glass of
water down on the bedside table a bit harder than usual.

“I’m going to talk to her,” Remus shot back. “I just haven’t yet, okay?”

“Okay, then,” Sirius said, snorting incredulously. “You do that, Remus.” He turned on his heel and
walked towards the door. A bubble of anger rose up in Remus at the sight of Sirius’ stiff back, as
well as his dismissive, condescending words. He sat up, glaring at Sirius’ back.

“Fuck you, Sirius!” Remus shot at him. “Maybe you’re always ready to be direct or for a
confrontation, but it’s not always that easy for me. Just lay off, okay? For fuck’s sake!”

Sirius turned slowly to look at Remus, his grey eyes steel. “If you think it’s easy for me to talk
about my fucking feelings, you obviously don’t know me as well as you think you do,” he shot
back. “Did you forget where I come from?”

“No, I didn’t,” Remus said, leaping up from his bed and striding across the room toward the other
boy. There was something thrumming in his veins, a sort of restless energy, one that was all too
eager to be released in this way. He stepped towards Sirius, knowing he wouldn’t back down,
relishing the few inches of height he had on the other boy a little bit, as he towered over him. “Did
you fucking forget what I had to deal with growing up? Did you even stop to think about the fact
that I had it drilled into me from the age of four that I had to keep my whole fucking life a secret?”

“You didn’t have to keep your whole life a secret, just the fact that you’re a werewolf,” Sirius
retorted, his tone derisive, standing his ground as he glared at Remus, his lips pulled into a
mocking smile. “You added the rest on yourself, and become the most bloody secretive berk in the
world.”

At that moment, staring at Sirius, Remus wanted to shove him, to punch him, to somehow make
him shut his frustratingly perfect lips and wipe the smirk off his face. “Fuck you, Black,” he
retorted, glowering down at the slightly shorter boy.

“Fuck you right back, Lupin,” Sirius retorted, matching his tone.

They glared at each other for a few seconds, Sirius’ cheeks reddening further all the time, and then
Remus heard a smashing sound behind him. He turned in surprise to find that the water glass that
Sirius had been drinking out of only a minute before had shattered into a thousand tiny shards,
which now lay on the floor around his bed like sparkling drops of water. Remus swore, and turned
back to Sirius, only to find the door to the dormitory swinging shut behind him. He was gone.

“That fucking bastard,” Remus muttered to himself as he tiptoed around the broken glass to grab
his wand from his bag, waving it to clean up the mess.

Glancing up at the calendar next to his bed, he noted that the full moon was only a couple of days
away. Perhaps that was why his feelings had been so on edge for the past two days. Still, Sirius
had no such excuse. Remus collapsed back onto his bed, fuming and thinking of more cutting
remarks he should’ve said to Sirius.

....

That month’s full moon was worse than usual, Remus thought, as he woke up in the Shrieking
Shack with a long, deep slash across his chest. He winced, looking down at it, still slowly oozing
blood. It would definitely scar.

“Remus, may I come in?” Madam Pomfrey inquired from the door, and Remus inched himself
onto the bed, grabbing the threadbare blanket to cover his lower half, before saying:
“Yes, come in.”

Madam Pomfrey entered the room, tutting as she caught sight of the wound on his chest. “Oh dear,
that looks nasty,” she said, making her way toward him and crouching down. She pulled out a vial
of potion from her bag and dabbed it onto the cut, which stung and smoked as it cleaned the
wound. Then she jabbed at it with her wand, and the cut scabbed over immediately, new skin
stretching across it so that it was tender, but not open.

“I expect that will scar a bit,” Madam Pomfrey said. “But it should be fine, healing-wise. Now,
drink this.” She handed him a green potion, which Remus knew was a blood-replenishing potion,
and he drank it down without complaint, though it tasted awful. “Let’s get you back to the castle.”

Madam Pomfrey turned her back while he put his clothes back on, then they walked, side by side,
back across the grounds as the sun just started to peek over the horizon.

“Would you like to stay in the Hospital Wing for a while?” Madam Pomfrey asked as they reached
the entrance hall, looking him up and down.

“No, I’m okay now,” Remus insisted. “I haven’t got class until 11:30, anyway. I can go back to my
dormitory before then.”

Madam Pomfrey tutted under her breath, giving him a motherly look. “Okay, dear, but try and get
some rest, and if you’re not feeling well, do not even think about attending class, you hear me?”

Remus smiled tiredly at her. “I won’t. Thanks, Madam Pomfrey.”

She bustled off, and he made his own slow progression up the staircase. When he reached the
Gryffindor common room, he was out of breath, but relieved to find it empty. Early risers like
Marlene and James were the bane of his existence on full moons, as he hated having to act
naturally walking past them in the mornings. When he reached his dormitory, Remus collapsed on
his bed face first but rolled over when a twinge of pain went through his chest, and fell fast asleep.

He woke only a few hours later abruptly as if an alarm had gone off in his mind, though the room
was still silent. When Remus opened his eyes, he thought that it was the sunlight that had woken
him until he saw the figure beside his bed. As his eyes adjusted, he realized that it was Sirius,
sitting in a chair he’d pulled up next to the bed. Remus tried to sit up, his movement making Sirius
turn towards him, noticing that he was awake for the first time. Sirius leaned forward and put a
hand on Remus’ shoulder, pushing him back down gently.

“Hey, Remus,” Sirius said, looking at him with a tentative, apologetic expression on his face. The
two hadn’t spoken in the past few days before the full moon, but clearly, Sirius had found some
remorse for his earlier words in that time. “Rough night?”

Remus studied the other boy for a moment, taking in his apologetic expression and finding that he
didn’t have the energy to be mad at Sirius, just then.

“A bit rough, yeah,” he admitted, sighing and allowing himself to relax back onto his pillow again.
“I’m going to have another big scar.”

Sirius nodded, then held something out to Remus, which he realized was a freshly rolled spliff.
“Thought you might want this, you know, for the pain?”

“Where’d you learn to roll this?” Remus asked, looking at Sirius in surprise, but taking it from him
nevertheless. Sirius shrugged.
“I’ve watched you do it the last couple of times,” he said, obviously trying to sound nonchalant. “It
took a couple of tries, but I thought it might be helpful not to have to do it yourself.”

“Well, thanks…” Remus said, feeling at a loss. He grabbed his wand from the bedside table and lit
the end deftly, putting it to his lips and inhaling. They sat in silence for a few minutes as Remus
smoked and Sirius watched him. Remus thought it should feel strange, being observed like this, but
for some reason, it didn’t.

When Remus was done, he felt pleasantly fuzzy-headed, the aches and pains ebbing slightly from
his body. Sirius was still looking at him, almost fascinatedly. “Does it really help?” he asked.

“Yeah, it does a bit,” Remus said. “It doesn’t make the pain go away, but it’s better. I haven’t told
Madam Pomfrey about it, though. I’m not sure she’d approve. But my parents were the ones who
suggested it, so it’s not like she could really forbid me from doing it.”

“Hmm,” Sirius murmured, his eyes fixed on the spliff thoughtfully as Remus stubbed it out in an
ashtray on his side table. Remus looked up to meet his eyes again, and they looked at each other
for a moment before both attempted to speak. “Sorry,” Sirius said. “You go.”

“What are you doing here, Sirius?” Remus asked, raising his eyebrows at his friend. Sirius gave
him another small, apologetic smile.

“James told me to pull my head out of my arse and say I’m sorry because he’s sick of us not
speaking to one another,” he said, glancing down at his hands, which were clasped in his lap,
before looking back up to meet Remus’ eyes. “So here I am. I don’t know what came over me,
Remus. I was a complete arse.”

“You were,” Remus said, looking at Sirius steadily. “Are you going to act that way again anytime
soon?”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Sirius said, letting out a laugh before sobering quickly. “Look, your
business is your business. I shouldn’t have gone off on you like I did.”

“Well, I asked for your advice,” Remus said, smiling slightly. “I just hoped you would give it in a
bit more of an understanding way.”

“I’ll work on that, in future,” Sirius replied, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I also brought you
this, hoping it might make you more likely to forgive me,” he said, pulling out a bar of Honeydukes
chocolate from the pocket of his jacket and holding it out to Remus. Remus grinned at him and
took it, breaking off a piece and putting it in his mouth. Sirius grinned back at him. “Forgiven,
then?”

“You’re forgiven,” Remus conceded. “But only because you brought me chocolate.”

....

That day, after Ancient Runes, Mary fell into step beside Remus as they walked to lunch,
beginning to chat with him about the class. Remus steeled himself internally, then stopped.

“Mary, can I talk to you for a minute? Privately?” he asked, looking down at her. She paused as
well, looking back at him curiously, but followed him away from the crowd, letting Lily,
Emmeline, and Hestia go on ahead of them.

“What is it, Remus?” she asked when they stood in a little alcove by a window. Remus ran a
nervous hand through his hair, then wondered briefly whether he was trying to channel James for
this awkward moment. He hoped not. That would be a little pathetic.

“Mary, I—” he broke off, sighing slightly. He looked down to meet her light brown eyes, which
looked apprehensive. “You know I really like being your friend, right?”

Mary blinked at him for a moment, then a small, sad expression came over her heart-shaped face.
“It’s okay, Remus,” she broke in before he could continue his awkward progress. She wore a
slight, melancholy, half-smile, and looked up at him in understanding. “You don’t need to say
anything, really. I understand, and it’s okay. I’ll be okay.”

“Really?” Remus asked, feeling lost for words as he gazed down at her. She laughed quietly and
patted his arm in a way that felt oddly comforting, though he knew that it was a little pathetic that
he’d be the one needing comforting in this situation.

“Of course I will,” she said, then nodded back to the corridor, indicating that they should still walk
together to lunch. “Come on.”
 1975: Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs
Chapter Notes

cw: underage drug use

By the second term of their fourth year, the newly dubbed Marauders had still failed to make much
progress on their Animagi transformations, and by that point, it was hard to quell their frustration.

“I don’t understand it,” Sirius complained as he walked with James back to their dorm from their
last class of the day. It was Friday, which they always reserved to work on their Animagi
transformations, and Remus and Peter had gone off to get snacks from the kitchens before meeting
in their dorm. “We’ve done everything! We held those disgusting leaves in our mouths for a whole
month—that was fun—we made that potion, we drank it, we recite the incantation every goddamn
morning. It’s been two bloody years, I want to be able to transform into an animal already!”

“We knew it would take a long time when we started,” James replied fairly. “Anyway, it’s
probably taking longer because we’re not fully qualified wizards, as well. Our magic isn’t as
powerful.”

“Speak for yourself,” Sirius snorted. “Meanwhile, Remus still has to transform every bloody month
without us.”

James shot a worried glance at his friend. “I know, mate. But you know that even when we’ll be
able to keep Remus company during his transformations, it’ll still be difficult for him. We can’t
change that.”

“I know,” Sirius replied despondently. “But it’ll be better.”

Sirius hated watching Remus in pain after transformations, hated his own feeling of helplessness as
he saw Remus try to hide his injuries from him and the other boys. Sirius wanted to act, to help, but
at the moment, he was still stuck firmly in place, watching, just as he’d been for the past two years.

“That’s why we haven’t given up,” James said, clapping Sirius on the back reassuringly as they
approached the portrait hole. James paused to give the Fat Lady the password before entering the
common room. They found it full, as it was a Friday afternoon, and all the Gryffindors were extra
boisterous with their relief at the arrival of the weekend. They paused to chat with Dorcas and
Marlene in the common room on their way up to their dorm, knowing that Remus and Peter would
still be a while longer.

“Dorcas Meadowes, are you aware that you have dragons attached to your earlobes?” Sirius
demanded, a grin spreading across his face as he walked over to Dorcas and perched on the edge of
her armchair, looking down at her. Dorcas grinned back up at him.

“You like them?” she asked, fingering the small moving Chinese fireball models that were attached
to her ears. “I charmed them to move using a spell I found in our Charms text.”

“They’re absolutely terrifying,” Sirius said, grinning with delight as he extended his hand to
examine them closely. “I should get my ears pierced so I can get a pair.”
James and Marlene traded an amused glance, and Sirius drew back his hand as one of the dragons
opened its jaws to breathe out a small burst of flame, grazing his fingers. Dorcas laughed at him.
“Yeah, they do that, too, sometimes.”

“Your taste in jewelry is absolutely astounding to me, Dee,” Marlene commented.

“As if you know the first thing about jewelry, Marley,” Dorcas shot back, raising an amused
eyebrow at her best friend. “You don’t even have your ears pierced.”

“No,” Marlene admitted, smiling. “But none of the rest of the girls in our dormitory wear the
strange things you do. I swear you’d put anything on a hook and wear it as an earring.”

“Hey, Mary loves my earrings!” Dorcas defended. “She’s borrowed some of them before, and I
made her those little Hippogriff ones that she wears.”

“I’d let you pierce my ears if you made me some,” Sirius broke in excitedly. Dorcas gave him a
disbelieving look.

“I’m not piercing your ears, Sirius,” she said incredulously. “You have to get them professionally
done for it to be safe.”

“I’ll pierce them,” Marlene interjected, smirking. “Can’t be that hard, can it? We always have
Madam Pomfrey if something goes too wrong.”

James grasped Sirius’ arm, rolling his eyes and pulling him to his feet. “Okay, I’m taking you
away before you two make any concrete plans that will result in Sirius permanently mutilating
himself,” he said, dragging Sirius off as he opened his mouth to respond. Sirius mouthed “talk
later” to Marlene as James dragged him up to the dormitory while Dorcas shook her head in
exasperation, watching them go.

James released Sirius as they bounded up the boy’s dormitory stairs together, throwing open the
door with a bang and slamming it behind them as they dashed in, excited to begin their Animagi
work. James began to pace, muttering the incantation Amato Animo Animato Animagus under his
breath, his face screwed up in concentration. Meanwhile, Sirius flopped down on his bed, repeating
the incantation to himself under his breath, too, while trying to imagine what his Animagus form
would be. He knew that he’d have no way of knowing until he actually transformed, but sometimes
when he was practicing the incantation, he felt that visualizing himself changing into an animal
helped motivate him.

After ten minutes of this, he looked up at his best friend, who was now just standing in the middle
of the room in the space between all of their beds, his eyes closed as his lips moved, forming the
words of the incantation, though no sound came out. Sirius knew that James was now in the state of
concentration he sometimes got into when he worked on particularly interesting projects, usually
for Transfiguration, where he’d lose track of time. Sirius had never been able to lose himself in
things as easily as James did, though, to be fair, James swung from one side of the pendulum to the
other quickly, with no middle ground: he was either impossible to break out of his reverie, or more
distractible than all of the other boys combined.

Sirius knew where his own strengths lay, however. While James’ magic was based on his ability to
will a spell into being, and Remus’ magic revolved around bringing theory to life with hard work
and persistence, Sirius’ spellwork relied heavily upon his emotions. His wand was a natural
extension of his arm, and his magic was highly intuitive, which often meant that he mastered spells
before the rest of them, but also meant that if he didn’t control his temper, he was liable to explode
things. Sometimes, this happened even when he didn’t have his wand in his hand.
This was part of the reason that Sirius was having trouble controlling his impatience over the
length of time it was taking to become an Animagus. He usually mastered magic quickly, without
too much effort or reading. The Animagus transformation, however, relied upon knowing the
theory, and was full of different steps and conditions to actually achieving the transformation.
Sirius couldn’t just feel his way into it, and he resented this fact. Bored with reciting the
incantation over and over again, Sirius rolled off his bed and walked over to his trunk, thinking that
he might review the book about becoming an Animagus that the boys were using for reference,
which they’d stolen from the restricted section of the library in their second year. He began to toss
things out of the mess of his trunk, looking for the book. Just then, he heard James move from
behind him, but ignored the sound.

“Sirius, we have a problem,” James said loudly, his voice slightly higher than usual.

“Yeah, what’s up, mate?” Sirius responded distractedly, still rifling through his trunk while he
looked for the book.

“...it’s a really big problem,” James said again, more urgency in his voice, which sounded strange
and choked. Sirius snorted and stood up straight, moving to turn around.

“If this is your way of making a filthy joke, I think—whoa,” he finished, taken aback. James was
standing in the middle of the dormitory, stock still, not daring to move. His eyes were wide and
shocked, and from his head sprouted what was unmistakably a set of large, branching antlers.
Sirius began to laugh, clutching his stomach with the force of his mirth. He tried to stop, but every
time he looked back up at James, with his hazel eyes wide with terror, antlers rising almost to the
ceiling, it set him off again.

“Sirius, this is not funny!” James exclaimed anxiously. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

Sirius’ stomach ached with his peels of uncontrollable laughter, but he worked hard to stop as he
registered the anxiety in his best friend’s voice, though he still couldn’t quite keep a straight face.
“What do you mean, what are you going to do? This is great, James!”

“How is this great, Sirius?” James demanded, his voice high with indignation and fear. “I can’t go
walking around with antlers!”

“No, but you do realize what this means, don’t you?” Sirius demanded excitedly. “You’re getting
closer to transforming into your Animagus form!”

“And in the meantime, I’m stuck with antlers? I don’t think you grasp the seriousness of this issue,
mate. I still have to go to classes!” James said, sounding more distressed by the second.

“Hey, I always grasp the Sirius-ness of things,” Sirius said, smirking, to which James made a move
as if to walk forward and throttle him, but was impeded by the four-poster beds around him, which
kept his antlers trapped, setting Sirius off again into laughter.

Just then, the dormitory door swung open and Remus and Peter walked in, talking, their bags
bulging with food from the kitchens. The door swung shut behind them at the same moment that
Remus stopped speaking mid-sentence as he caught sight of James, standing in the middle of their
dorm room, a frustrated and scared look on his face, antlers protruding from his head. Sirius was
still in fits of mirth, now rolling around on the floor.

“What the fuck happened?” Remus asked, hurrying forward towards James but stopping as he
clearly realized he had absolutely no idea what to do to help.
“We were just starting to work on the Animagi theory and incantations and things, and then—”
James gestured helplessly to his head. Sirius stopped laughing long enough to choke out:

“James is turning into a fucking moose!”

“My Animagus form will not be a moose, Sirius, shut up,” James retorted, though his voice held a
note of panic. “You don’t even know what a moose looks like.”

“Hey, you’re the one with antlers!” Sirius said, still chuckling.

“How do I get rid of them?” James demanded shrilly, looking between Remus and Peter while
ignoring Sirius. Sirius leapt to his feet, grinning, and began to rifle through his trunk again, finally
pulling out the book he’d been searching for before. He opened it and skimmed through the pages
until he found what he was looking for.

“It says here that partial transformations are common during the process of becoming an
Animagus,” Sirius said, looking up at James and quirking an eyebrow arrogantly. “Told you.”

Remus snorted impatiently and grabbed the book out of Sirius’ hands, reading further down the
page. He lifted his head to look at James, who was staring back at him, a desperate expression on
his face.

“It sounds like transforming back and forth between your partial Animagus form is part of the
process of learning to transform back and forth between your full Animagus form and human form.
The theory should be the same, you just have to concentrate hard on transforming back.”

“And what if I can’t?” James asked, his voice rising further in panic.

“Calm down, James,” Remus said, his voice low and soothing. “Just focus.”

“Just focus? Just focus?!” James exclaimed indignantly. “It took me two whole years of trying to
focus to get antlers, Remus! How long is it going to take me to get rid of them?”

“If you panic, they’ll never go away,” Sirius said, moving forward to lay a comforting hand on
James’ shoulder while concealing his grin. “Breathe, mate.”

“You know, Sirius is right,” Peter said, trying to cheer James up. “It’s pretty impressive that you
got them to appear in the first place. That means you’re the furthest along than any of us.”

“Now that bothers me,” Sirius said, pouting and removing his hand from James’ shoulder.

“It makes sense,” Remus said mildly, ignoring Sirius and sitting down on his bed to regard the
three of them. “James is the best at Transfiguration out of any of us.”

Sirius huffed in annoyance, and Remus grinned over at him teasingly, to which Sirius responded
with a scowl, but then brightened, getting an idea. “What if we turned this into a competition?” He
proposed excitedly. “Let’s see if James can get rid of his prongs before either Peter or I can do a
partial transformation of our own. We can just stay up here for the night since we have enough
food to forego dinner.”

“That sounds like a recipe for disaster,” James replied huffily, crossing his arms over his chest,
though he looked rather more content now that Peter and Remus had both stroked his ego.

“Sounds to me like you think you can’t beat me,” Sirius said challengingly, grinning at James.
James frowned and turned to Peter and Remus for help.
“Don’t look at me; I think it’s a good idea,” Remus said, smiling slightly. “You have to get rid of
your antlers at some point, and the sooner you all learn to turn into animals the better it is for me.”

“Pete?” James asked, but the small mousy boy just shrugged.

“I’m game,” Peter said. “I doubt I’ll do it before either you or Sirius, since I’m not as good at
Transfiguration as you two, but it’d be cool to have some progress after all this time.”

James tried to shake his head in disbelief, but his antlers scraped against Peter’s bed posts, the
sound grating on all of their ears, and he stilled once more. Sirius laughed again, and James rolled
his eyes.

“Fine,” he conceded finally. “But if anyone ends up with wings or something permanently, you
can’t blame me.”

“I don’t think it can get much worse than your antlers,” Sirius retorted, walking over to snatch the
book back from Remus with a flourish. Remus rolled his eyes and reached across his bed to grab a
bag out of his bedside table drawer.

“Oi, what are you doing?” James exclaimed as he saw the bag. “Don’t you usually save that for the
full moon?”

“Usually,” Remus smirked, “But I think I need to be high for this experience. Anyway, what else
am I going to do? You may recall that I’ve been able to transform into an animal since the age of
four.”

“I figured you’d be doing your homework or something, like the studious student you are,” James
said, frowning.

“I’ve finished everything I need to do this weekend,” Remus said, now rolling a joint. Sirius
laughed.

“I think even James sometimes forgets that you aren’t the innocent bystander to our mischief that
you pretend to be in front of the rest of the school,” he said, shooting Remus an admiring grin.
Remus chuckled slightly but didn’t look up.

Two hours later they all sat on the floor in a circle. James had successfully managed to will away
the antlers after an hour of concentrating, at almost the exact moment when Sirius fell over because
his feet had changed into paws. Half an hour later, Peter had, much to his own surprise, grown a
long, bald tail from his backside. Now he lay on his stomach on the ground, trying to concentrate
hard enough so that he could make it disappear again. Though Sirius was trying to do the same, he
was doing so with a bit less effort, as he was too busy laughing at Remus’ behavior with James.

Remus was lying on his back, holding his hands above his face and examining them with interest,
his eyes slightly bloodshot. Sirius stopped laughing long enough to crawl forward and lean over
Remus’ face so that he was upside-down in the other boy’s view.

“You doing alright, Remus?” he asked, smiling. Remus moved his left hand up to touch Sirius’
face lightly before drawing away. Sirius suppressed a shiver at the brush of Remus’ fingers over
his cheek as Remus smiled vaguely at him.

“My body feels very strange,” he said, laughing. Sirius grinned down at him.

“So does mine, but for a very different reason,” he said. Remus pushed himself up suddenly, Sirius
drawing back so that their faces wouldn’t collide in the scuffle. Remus regarded Sirius with
incredulous amusement in his eyes.

“I can’t believe that you have paws!” Remus exclaimed, shaking his head. “How does that feel?”

“Very strange,” Sirius said, smiling as he moved back to lean against James’ four-poster bed again.

“You have pads on the bottom of your feet,” Remus said, almost to himself. “Padfoot.”

“Hey, that’s what we should call you from now on!” James laughed. “Especially if you can’t figure
out how to get rid of them.”

“You’re going to use a nickname for me that Remus came up with while he was high?” Sirius
asked in disbelief.

“Sure, Padfoot, I think it’s quite catchy,” James said, smirking.

“Well then you’re Prongs, since you’ve got antlers,” Sirius said, smirking back. James screwed up
his face for a minute, then the antlers popped back onto his head, making Sirius swear and scoot
away from him rapidly to avoid being speared. James opened his eyes, smiling in satisfaction.

“See, not so hard, right?” he asked. Remus stared at the antlers in awe, looking as if James had just
blown his entire mind.

“You know you have to make them go away again, now, right?” Sirius asked testily, feeling quite
outshone by this display. James grinned, not looking at all panicked anymore, and screwed up his
face again in concentration. It took slightly longer than it’d taken for them to appear, but in under a
minute, they were gone again.

“I suppose it’s like riding a bike,” he said, smiling at the scowl on Sirius’ face. Sirius glared at
him, then narrowed his own eyes. There was really nothing that motivated him like a slight on his
ego, after all. After a couple of minutes of silence during which Sirius closed his eyes and screwed
up his face in concentration, just like James had done, his feet transformed back to normal again.
Sirius whooped, holding up a foot to show James, who jerked away, looking disgusted.

“Please don’t stick your feet in my face, Sirius,” he said, rolling his eyes at Peter, who had a rather
constipated look on his face in his attempts to get rid of his tail. Peter was usually the slowest at
magic out of all of them, only managing to learn new spells with all of their encouragement and
much practice. He was better at subjects like Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, and Potions,
which required less wandwork than Transfiguration, Charms, or Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Sirius laughed, then turned back to Remus. “Any brilliant ideas for Peter’s nickname, Remus?” he
said, gesturing over to where Peter was struggling.

“Wormtail,” Remus muttered, giggling to himself as he reached out to try to catch Peter’s long bald
tail in his hand, though it quickly flicked away from his outstretched fingers. “Because he has a tail,
and it’s a worm...wait, that’s not right. He’s a worm...no. Bugger.” Sirius let out another bark of
laughter, smiling at Peter.

“How about it, Wormtail?”

“I don’t care what you call me, as long as I’m not stuck with this thing forever,” Peter replied
anxiously, staring at his long tail as it flicked around above his head.

“Well then, what should we call Remus?” Sirius asked, turning to James. James screwed up his
face in concentration for a moment.
“I dunno...something werewolf-y,” he said.

“Well, he’s already named Wolf Wolf, son of Wolf and Howell,” Sirius said, laughing. “I’m not
sure it gets more werewolf-y than that.”

“I’m a cosmic joke,” Remus laughed to himself.

“I’ll think of something,” Sirius said, shaking his head and gazing at Remus affectionately.

By the time the sun set and the day surrendered to night, Peter had finally gotten rid of his tail and
Remus was beginning to act a bit more normally, much to Sirius’ disappointment. Sirius had even
managed to change his feet back and forth once more, just to prove to James that he was just as
good at it as James was. Emblazoned by their successes, they were sure that transforming into their
full animal forms would soon follow, and, tired, they all went to sleep.

The next morning, James jokingly called Sirius ‘Padfoot’ at breakfast, and Sirius retorted by
calling James ‘Prongs.’ By Monday, however, they’d started calling each other their nicknames
even without a joking tone of voice, though they all still found it rather funny that Remus had come
up with two out of the three nicknames while he was stoned out of his mind.

The following Friday, Remus had looked around, startled, when Sirius said to him at breakfast:
“Can you pass the potatoes, Moony?”

“What did you just call me?” Remus asked as he handed Sirius the platter. Sirius grinned at him,
feeling very proud of himself.

“Oh, I came up with it last night, thought it was rather fetching,” he said, smirking as the other two
boys leaned closer to listen. He didn’t mention how many hours he’d spent mulling over different
ideas in his head before he landed on this one.

“What do you think, Moony?” Sirius asked, testing out the name again. Remus narrowed his eyes
at him, appearing to think it over.

“I suppose it’ll do,” he said, not managing to conceal his smile as he gazed across the table at
Sirius. Sirius smiled back and began to shovel his breakfast into his mouth in a rather undignified
fashion. Despite this, he didn’t miss the contented look on Remus’ face, and the way that he
continued to smile long after the bell had rung and they set off to class.
 1975: Growing Pains
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Fourth year ended in a blur, but the exhilaration of the Marauders finally achieving partial Animagi
transformations lasted them until the end of term, and caused them to practice with renewed fervor,
determined to achieve full transformations before long. Still, the year was up before this occurred,
and they all went their separate ways at the beginning of the summer, promising to keep in touch.

As per usual, James was left to spend most of his time with Marlene and Dorcas for the first five
weeks of the summer, before Sirius came to stay with him at the beginning of August. The days
dragged by at a sloth-like speed, but finally, August 1st arrived, and with it, Sirius. James ran out to
meet his best friend at the garden gate as soon as he heard the telltale skid that indicated that the
Knight Bus was leaving.

“Sirius!” he exclaimed, wrapping Sirius in a hug and causing the other boy to drop his trunk and
owl cage to the ground, laughing. Caspian gave an indignant hoot at being deposited so carelessly,
but neither boy paid the owl much attention. James registered as he hugged his best mate that
Sirius must have grown an inch or two at least since he’d last seen him, as he had to bend down
less than usual when hugging him.

“Alright, calm down,” Sirius said after he drew back, a grin spread across his face. “I’m here for a
month, don’t get too excited all at once.”

“You’re so full of it, Padfoot,” James laughed, and helped him haul his trunk inside, where
Euphemia and Fleamont Potter were waiting.

“Sirius,” Euphemia greeted him, getting up from her armchair in the sitting room and walking over
to wrap him in a warm hug. “We are so pleased to see you. I hope the beginning of your summer
was alright?”

“Thanks for letting me stay again, Mrs. Potter,” Sirius said, smiling at her as he pulled away. “The
first part of my summer was fine.”

“How many times must I insist that you call me Euphemia, beta?” James’ mother asked, beaming
and looking him up and down. “And how is it possible that you look like you’ve grown since we
last saw you off the Hogwarts Express?”

Sirius grinned back sheepishly, his cheeks slightly flushed from the term of endearment James’
mother had used for him. “I dunno,” he said. “Puberty, I suppose?”

“You’re still shorter than me,” James said, smirking over at his friend. Sirius rolled his eyes and
elbowed James in the ribs, causing him to wince, though it barely dampened the smile on his face.

“It’s very nice to see you again, son,” Fleamont said, approaching and clasping Sirius’ shoulder
briefly.

“It’s really nice to see you again, too, Mr. Potter,” Sirius replied. “I hope James hasn’t been driving
you both up the wall too much.”

James aimed a kick at him, and Sirius dodged out of the way, shooting him a smirk. Euphemia
laughed. “He’s been keeping busy,” she said, glancing up at her son. He was now several inches
taller than her, though not quite as tall as his father yet. “Marlene and Dorcas have been over quite
a lot, as always. I’m sure you will be happy to see them again, Sirius.”

“Are they coming over today?” Sirius asked hopefully, looking at James.

“They were planning to, yeah,” James replied. “Probably in the afternoon.”

“I guess that means we’ll have to feed all of you starving teenagers for dinner, then,” Euphemia
said. James grinned at her hopefully.

“If it’s not too much trouble, mum,” he said. “They were thinking of staying for a while.”

“Of course not,” Euphemia said, smiling. “Now, you go get Sirius settled and catch up.”

James nodded, and the two boys grabbed the heavy trunk and carried it up the stairs between them
to the guest bedroom which Sirius occupied for several weeks every summer.

“Merlin am I looking forward to your parents’ cooking,” Sirius said as he flopped down upon the
bed, smiling. “Kreacher’s cooking is good, but nothing compares to the food I eat here.”

“Yeah, well, mum was shocked when she found out you had never tasted curry before last
summer,” James said, sitting down on the rug. “Now she thinks she has to cook all her best recipes
to give you a proper food education or something.”

“I’m an eager student, then.”

“Do you ever go outside when you’re in London?” James asked, peering at his friend. “You look
paler than Nearly Headless Nick.”

“My outdoor privileges were revoked,” Sirius said, snorting. “Not that I had much of any to begin
with, mind you, but my mother caught me sneaking back in in the first week of summer, so she set
Kreacher to tail me and make sure I didn’t leave after that.”

“Merlin, Sirius, where were you even going?” James asked, horrified.

“Nowhere, everywhere,” Sirius said, an ironic half-smile on his face. “You know, the usual. I think
I went to a park and just walked around Muggle London for a bit that day. I just needed a break
from the house—it was suffocating me. Little good that did me when I was stuck in it for another
four weeks, though.”

“Well, you’re out now,” James said, trying for an encouraging tone. “And I spend barely any time
inside over the summer, so you’ll be sick of the outdoors by the time we go back to Hogwarts, I
expect.”

“Not likely,” Sirius said. “I don’t think there’s enough fresh air in the world to get me tired of it,
not after the last few weeks.”

“Was it awful?” James asked after a pause, his hazel eyes fixed on Sirius’ face. Sirius turned to
look at him, his gaze meeting James’, and he sighed.

“It was, a bit,” Sirius admitted. “But I don’t want to dwell on that, now. I just want to enjoy not
being there, and breathe.”

“Sounds like a plan,” James said, smiling gently at him, and Sirius returned the smile tentatively.
James began to help Sirius unpack his things, chatting as they did so. In thirty minutes time, the
room had transformed from its usual nondescript appearance to one bursting with Sirius’
personality. This year, he’d even brought a few posters to put up on his walls.

“Where in the world did you get this?” James asked incredulously as he held up Sirius’ new Queen
poster. Sirius beamed at him, taking the poster and pinning it up on the wall.

“Found it in Muggle London in the first week of the holidays,” he told James. “I managed to hide it
from my mother all this time, just so I could bring it here.”

“Did you pay for it?” James asked, narrowing his eyes at his friend. Sirius gave James an amused
look, raising his eyebrows and smirking.

“Give me some credit.”

“So that’d be a no, then.”

“It’s not like I have any Muggle money, Prongs,” Sirius defended. “Anyway, I didn’t even have to
nick it this time. I managed to charm the attendant into giving it to me for free.”

James snorted. “Sure you did.”

“Hey, don’t underestimate my charms,” Sirius said. “You’d be surprised.”

“You’ve got about as much charm as a flobberworm, Padfoot,” James shot back, and Sirius
grabbed him in a headlock, rubbing a fist on his already untidy hair as they tussled together.

“Come on, I’m hungry,” James said finally, pushing Sirius away from him and opening the door to
head downstairs to the kitchen. They made themselves sandwiches, then went outside to eat them
at the fire pit. It was a warm day, and after they were finished eating, they sat in the sun, Sirius
with his head tilted back, eyes closed, and a slight, genuine smile on his face. James gazed over at
his friend affectionately, but with a touch of concern.

Sirius’ skin looked so pale that he was almost sparkling in the sun, and he had prominent, purple
under-eye circles as if he hadn’t slept in days. Still, he was there, with James and his parents, not in
London anymore, and if Sirius said he didn’t want to talk about it, James wouldn’t force him to.

Just then, Sirius looked away from the sky to James, smiling. “Can we go flying today?”

“Sure!” James replied enthusiastically. “I’m sure Dorcas would be happy to lend you her broom, or
you can fly my old one if she wants to join us when they come over.”

“Great,” Sirius said. “D’you think Moony will visit at some point this summer?”

“I haven’t asked him,” James said. “But it would be nice to see him.”

“I’ll write him,” Sirius said musingly. “The full moon is in a week or so, so he could come over
after that, maybe. Wormtail, too.”

“I saw Pete a couple of weeks back,” James said. “I’m sure he’d be pleased to see you, too.”

“Oh, I almost forgot to ask,” Sirius said, sitting up a little straighter. “Have you had any more luck
with your Animagus transformation since the end of term?”

“I haven’t gotten any further than the antlers,” James admitted. “You?”

“Me neither, no more than the paws,” Sirius sighed. “I don’t know if there’s more partial
transformation, or if we go straight from where we are now to full animal forms.”

“I don’t think we’ll know until it happens,” James said. “I, for one, would rather just be able to
transform fully. I don’t want to have to deal with hooves on my feet or something.”

Sirius let out a bark of laughter. “That would be hard to explain to your parents.”

“My dad would be so angry if he found out what we’re trying to do,” James said, looking sheepish.
“Mum, too. They’d say it was too risky.”

“It is risky,” Sirius said, looking at James with a steady determination in his eyes. “But it’s worth it
for Moony.”

“For Moony,” James agreed. Still, James knew that there was a large part of him—and he guessed
that this was true for Sirius and probably Peter, too—that just wanted to see if he could become an
Animagi. He liked testing his magic, and he liked the idea of simply being able to turn into an
animal, quite apart from the benefit it would have for their friend.

When Marlene and Dorcas arrived that afternoon, they all walked up to the enclosure at the top of
the hill that they used for Quidditch, and Sirius immediately shot off into the open air, letting out a
loud whoop. James followed him, and they did a lap around the pitch together. Looking sideways,
James grinned at the look of pure joy on Sirius’ face. Things would be alright now that he was
there.

....

On the first of September, James headed to platform nine and three-quarters with his parents and
Sirius in tow. As it turned out, they’d been able to have Peter over during the last week of the
summer, but Remus had apologized profusely, telling them that his family had planned a visit to
France after the full moon in August and that he’d see them when school started, instead.

“Typical Moony,” Sirius had said, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “Elusive bastard.” His voice had
been tinged with affection, however, but James had agreed with him. They’d never once seen
Remus over any holiday after they’d started Hogwarts. It was as if the other boy forgot that his
friends were still his friends even when they didn’t live together.

When they reached the platform, both boys said goodbye to James’ parents, Sirius thanking them
for having him to stay for the tenth time that day, and then hurried off into the crowd, eager to find
their friends. They didn’t see either Remus or Peter, but they said hello to a couple of other students
in their year, including James’ ex-girlfriend, Sarah, Mary’s Ravenclaw friend, Miranda, and Hestia
Jones.

Just as they were about to get onto the train, hoping to find Remus and Peter in their usual
compartment, James saw a flash of dark red hair out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Lily
Evans saying goodbye to her parents near the barrier. He had to blink a few times to make sure it
was her, as she looked different than he remembered her. Her hair was darker and longer, making
her emerald eyes stand out more in contrast. Her skin looked smooth, and her cheeks were slightly
flushed. In addition, her curves were more pronounced than the previous year. James had to admit:
she looked good.

“Prongs!” Sirius said loudly, waving a hand across his vision as if he’d been trying to get his
attention for a moment or two already. “What’re you looking at?”

James snapped out of his trance and glanced at his best friend, then nodded to the small family by
the barrier in explanation. “Is that Evans?” he asked a little incredulously, as Sirius craned his neck
to follow James’ gaze. “I barely recognize her. She looks…different.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows as his gaze fixed on her for a moment, then snorted and looked back to
James, a disbelieving expression on his face. “Looks like the same pain in my arse that I got rid of
at the end of last year to me.”

“She’s pretty fit,” James commented, barely registering Sirius’ jibe and raising his eyebrows in
slight surprise at his own admission. “I don’t remember her being that fit last year.”

Sirius gave him a disgusted look. “You better not get all moony over Evans, Prongs, or I might
have to seriously reconsider your position as my best mate.”

James tore his eyes from Lily at last and turned back to Sirius, laughing and rumpling his best
friend’s hair. “You can always replace me with Remus or Pete, I suppose. You have options.”

They turned and boarded the train, making their way down the corridor toward the compartment
that they always sat in. Remus, predictably, was already sitting there, and he looked up when
James opened the door, a grin spreading across his face at the sight of them.

“Hey, Moony!” James exclaimed, walking in and pulling his friend up into a hug. Remus hadn’t
grown over the summer, so he was now about an inch shorter than James, though they were both
still taller than Sirius. James felt as if he and Remus were in a constant battle with one another as
they were growing, as one would shoot up, then the other, each vying to be the tallest of the group.
Of course, this impression was lessened by the fact that James knew that Remus actually hated his
long, gangly limbs.

“Good to see you again, Prongs,” Remus said, smiling. James turned to sit down, lounging
casually, and Remus turned to look at Sirius, his eyes widening slightly as he took in their friend.

“What happened to you this summer, Padfoot?” Remus asked, laughing awkwardly. “Stretching
charm?”

Sirius grinned and walked forward to pull Remus into a hug. “It’s called growing, Moony. You’ve
been doing it for the past two years without me. Now it’s my turn.”

“I guess it is,” Remus said, pulling back and sitting back down hastily. “I suppose you couldn’t
stay short forever.”

“I still think I’ll end up taller than you,” James said, smirking at Sirius, who sat down across from
him. “You’ve grown too much this summer, it’s got to stop at some point.”

“Who knows? I could dwarf you all by the end of the year,” Sirius said. Remus laughed again,
shaking his head slightly as he looked at Sirius, his cheeks tinged a faint pink and his blue eyes
looking brighter than usual.

The door of the compartment slid open once again, and Peter stood in the doorway, looking
slightly flustered, as he always did on the first day of the term. “Wormy!” Sirius exclaimed,
smiling up at him. “You made it!”

“I made it,” Peter confirmed, smiling and closing the compartment door behind him. James stood
first to hug him, and Sirius and Remus followed, Peter laughing at the onslaught. “I’ve missed you
all, too. Bloody hell, Padfoot, what kind of growth potion did you swallow this summer?”

“It’s because of James’ mother’s cooking,” Sirius joked. Peter sat down and smiled around at
them.

“Merlin, Remus!” Sirius exclaimed suddenly, looking over at Remus, a grin on his face. “I almost
forgot. Show us that prefect badge!”

Remus flushed again, but rummaged around in his bag, pulling out the shining silver badge, and
holding it out for the rest of them to see. “Satisfied?” he asked Sirius, raising his eyebrows and
looking embarrassed.

“Bloody hell, no. You need to put it on!” Sirius exclaimed, grinning widely at Remus. “Our little
Prefect Moony. I’m so proud!” He pretended to wipe a tear away from his eye while Remus
groaned and attached the badge to his robes, his face beet red.

“Stop laughing, Padfoot,” he snapped, rolling his eyes. “Dumbledore only made me prefect
because out of the four of us, I follow the rules the most.”

“Only as far as they know,” James said, sniggering. “You have a trustworthy face.”

“Which one of the girls got the badge?” Peter asked, looking around at the rest of them. “Does
anyone know?”

“Evans did,” Sirius replied. “She wrote Dorcas about it. It should’ve been Dee if you ask me.
Marley thinks so, too. She’s a better student than Evans.”

“They do equally well in classes, as you well know,” Remus said, giving Sirius a quelling look, the
color going down a bit in his face.

“Well, Evans has gotten detention before, and Dee never has,” Sirius shot back, smiling slightly.

“She only got detention the one time she hexed you for dropping that green goo on her,” Remus
reminded him, shaking his head exasperatedly. “And we can’t know exactly what goes into making
the decision. It could be a lot of factors.”

“Dorcas says that she wouldn’t want the badge, anyway,” James said, shrugging. “She’d rather
focus on classes. She said she’d rather Lily have the responsibility, and something about how she
already has a leg up after Hogwarts with her parents’ connections, so she thinks having prefect on
her record will do more for Evans than it will for her.”

“That’s probably true,” Remus mused. “Having a Muggle-born witch in an authority position
definitely sends a message to pureblood elitists, too. Maybe that’s why Dumbledore decided on
Lily, especially with things getting worse with that shit recently.”

“True,” Sirius admitted grudgingly, clearly still reluctant to admit that Lily might be a good choice
for the job. He looked over at Remus again, a bright smile on his face. “So, Moony, are you going
to use your position to help us out?”

Remus scowled at him. “Absolutely not, Padfoot,” he replied. “Dumbledore is trusting me with
this. I’m not using my new authority to help you lot get away with breaking the rules.”

“But Moony—” Sirius whined, but the sound of the compartment door opening interrupted him. All
four boys looked around to find Lily Evans in the doorway, looking in at them. James studied her
with interest, noting that even up close, he still stood by his conviction that she looked different
that year. Lily ignored the rest of the boys and addressed Remus, giving him a smile.

“Hey, Remus,” she said. “Do you want to walk with me to the prefects’ compartment for the
meeting?”

“Sure,” Remus said, standing up and smiling back at her, hastening to cross the compartment.
“Good summer, Lily?”

“Oh, it was fine,” Lily said, smiling. She looked past him, nodding slightly as she acknowledged
the other boys. “Hello, Peter. Potter. Black.”

“Evans,” James replied, giving her what he hoped was a winning smile, though she barely glanced
at him. Peter waved, shooting her a smile, too, which she returned.

“I’ll see you all in a bit,” Remus said, waving to his friends, and the two left. James turned back to
his remaining two friends as the compartment door slid shut, giving them both incredulous looks.

“Please tell me I’m not crazy, Pete,” he said. “Evans got prettier over the summer, didn’t she?”

“I dunno,” Peter said, shrugging. “She’s always been pretty.”

“Shut up, Prongs,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes impatiently. “She’s stealing Moony from us.”

“Oh, stop being dramatic,” James replied. “Moony would never abandon us for Evans. What’s she
got that we don’t have?”

“Breasts,” Peter offered, and James laughed, pulling out a game of Exploding Snap from his
pocket. Peter joined him for a game as they began to catch up on the events that had happened
since they’d last seen one another, the train speeding out of London towards Hogwarts.

....

The first few weeks of classes were harder than any of the Marauders had suspected. They were all
rather intimidated by the amount of work the professors were assigning, as well as the almost daily
lectures they were getting on the importance of O.W.L.s, though some of them were taking it more
seriously than others.

Remus, characteristically, was spending even more time in the library than usual, accompanied by
Mary—who seemed to have gotten over her infatuation with him, luckily—and Lily. In fact,
Remus was spending rather a lot of time with Lily, in and out of the library, as they were now
patrolling the corridors together during their weekly prefect rounds.

James, against his will, was rather jealous of Remus for this aspect of his life, as he was beginning
to fancy Lily quite a bit, a fact that Sirius never failed to make fun of him for. Apart from being
pretty, James had begun to notice certain things about the redheaded witch that he’d always been
oblivious to before, like the way she chewed on her quill while thinking in class, or the sparkle of
her green eyes when she was mad about something. He’d even begun to enjoy her telling him off,
as he thought that it was actually quite attractive the way she took her prefect job so seriously.

Fortunately or unfortunately, Lily was beginning to tell James off more and more these days, and
not just for breaking the rules. Apparently, as Remus pointed out to him kindly one day after
Charms class, James had the tendency to show off, especially when he fancied someone, and rather
than finding that charming, Lily seemed to find it downright obnoxious. These days, Lily was more
prone to yelling at James than she was at Sirius, which, Sirius remarked unhelpfully, was the only
silver lining of James fancying the redhead.

Despite all of this, Lily Evans wasn’t all that James thought about. There was Quidditch, classes,
and, of course, the ever-present threat of Marlene breaking into his dorm at any given moment to
bother him.

“You will never fucking guess what I just heard!” Marlene said, storming into the boys' dormitory
without knocking one Thursday afternoon two weeks into the term. James drew a pillow
instinctually to cover his bare chest, as he’d been changing when she entered. Marlene ignored this,
plopping down on Peter’s empty bed on her stomach and looking at James, her eyes wide.

“Hello, Marlene,” Remus said, exiting the bathroom and blinking in surprise at the sight of her. She
shot him a grin.

“You ought to be used to seeing me in your dorm by now,” she pointed out. “Anyway, James,
guess what Hestia just told me?”

“I have no idea,” James deadpanned, rolling his eyes and pulling on a shirt. “What?”

“Bertha Jorkins, that gossipy seventh-year Ravenclaw, is saying that she caught Marcus and Florey
snogging behind the greenhouses yesterday!” Marlene exclaimed. “Can you believe it?”

“I’m not sure I should if Bertha Jorkins is saying it,” James replied, but his eyebrows rose in
surprise nonetheless. “You think it’s true?”

“Well, apparently Marcus hexed her for spreading the rumor, so all signs point to yes,” Marlene
replied, kicking her feet excitedly. “It’s crazy, though! Marcus and Florey? This will set off the
whole team dynamic!”

“Jealous, Marley?” James teased. “I know you fancied Chris last year, have you moved on to
Marcus now?”

“Oh, shove off,” Marlene said, her cheeks reddening only slightly at the jibe. “You’re more likely
to be jealous than I am. You’re going to have to stop pining after Florey, finally!”

“I only fancied her in like first or second year!” James defended. “Anyway, never mind that. Do
you think they’re dating?”

“I don’t know about dating,” Marlene snorted. “Who knows? They could just be snogging. It’s not
that unusual, you know.”

“Of course I know that,” James said, shooting her an amused look. “I’ve snogged more people than
you, Marley, don’t forget.”

“Oh, please,” Marlene said, rolling her eyes and propping herself up on her elbows on the bed.
“Who’ve you snogged lately? Last I heard it was just Sarah in third year, and I doubt that was even
proper snogging.”

“I’ll have you know that I snogged someone else at the end of last year,” James said satisfiedly.
“And I snogged Evans in third year, too,” he said, smiling at the memory.

“You didn’t snog Evans,” Marlene spluttered, laughing. “By that definition, you snogged Peter,
too! It was a peck in Spin the Bottle. Anyway, who’d you snog last year?”

“I don’t kiss and tell,” James replied mysteriously.

“I guess no witch in her right mind would want to admit that she snogged you,” Marlene said, an
evil grin on her face.
James crossed his arms over his chest, offended. “Well, who have you snogged, then? And
according to you, Spin the Bottle doesn’t count, so other than that.”

“Well, I happened to have snogged someone last year, too,” Marlene replied, smirking.

“You’re lying,” James said, raising his eyebrows disbelievingly. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Like you said, I don’t kiss and tell,” Marlene smiled.

“Well, who was it, then?” James asked, rolling his eyes. He knew Marlene’s urge to brag was far
greater than any desire for mystery.

“Derek Alton, from Ravenclaw,” Marlene replied a little arrogantly.

“But he’s a sixth year!” James exclaimed, impressed against his own will.

“He’s only a year older than us,” Marlene said satisfiedly. “And he’s a good kisser.”

“Gross, Marley,” James said, making a face.

“Better get used to it, Jamie,” Marlene teased. “You’re just jealous because he’s better looking than
you.”

“Oi, Derek Alton is in no way better looking than me!”

“He objectively is, mate,” Sirius said, entering the dormitory at that moment and walking across to
his bed to throw his bag down. James huffed while Marlene laughed.

“Florey and Marcus are together,” James shot at Sirius, hoping to shock him with the information.

“Really?” Sirius said, glancing up at them with a look of slight interest on his face.

“James will have to stop pining after her, now,” Marlene remarked, grinning. Sirius gave James a
knowing look.

“Oh, Prongs here has moved on to other targets, haven’t you?”

“Shut it, Padfoot,” James said, flushing a deep red and glaring at his best friend.

“No, I’m surprised you don’t know already, Marley,” Sirius said, a wicked grin on his face. “James
fancies Evans.”

“What?!” Marlene demanded, pushing herself up from her position on the bed and staring at James
with what he considered far too accusing of a look. “You’ve got to be bloody kidding me, James.
Lily Evans?!”

“Trust me, there’s no talking him out of it,” Sirius said, turning back to the bed. “I’ve been trying.”

“You’re all ridiculous,” Remus said, looking up from the book he was reading on his bed, where
he’d been ignoring them for the past few minutes. “Lily’s nice.”

“Thank you, Remus!” James said, gesturing to Remus with his hand, a grin on his face, as Sirius
and Marlene both rolled their eyes in unison.

“Way too good for Prongs, obviously,” Remus continued. “But very nice.”
 “Are you fucking kidding me, Moony?” James exclaimed, rounding on him as Sirius and Marlene
broke into peals of laughter. “Not you, too!” Remus just shrugged, a slight, satisfied smirk on his
face as he went back to his reading.

....

It was six a.m. on a Saturday morning in late September when one of the biggest events in James
Potter’s life happened, far outshining all thoughts of Lily or any Quidditch drama Marlene could
offer him. James had woken up feeling restless that morning, even earlier than he usually did, and
gone down to breakfast without the rest of the Marauders. Grabbing a few pieces of toast from the
deserted Gryffindor table, he headed out onto the grounds, thinking that a walk might clear his
mind. James was halfway around the lake, dusting off crumbs from his fingers as he finished his
toast when he felt a sudden twisting feeling in his stomach.

He froze, breathing slowly and trying to figure out the source of the strange tingling sensation
currently running through his body. Before he could, however, his stomach twisted more violently,
and James fell to the ground. Several disjointed thoughts raced through his mind, and he wondered,
for a moment, whether there had been something wrong with the toast. All speculations were
driven from his mind, however, when he looked down and found that instead of feet, he
had...hooves?

He turned his head and found himself looking back at, not his side, but his flank, which had soft
brown hair covering it. The weight on his head, he knew, was that of his antlers, but when he tried
to open his mouth to cry out, the only sound he produced was a slight, low grunt. Testing out his
hooves, James walked unsteadily to the water’s edge, bending his head over it. In the lake’s clear
surface, he could make out his blurry reflection: looking back at him was the face of a deer, antlers
rising high over his head. No, not a deer, James thought. A stag. He lifted his head from the water,
standing tall for the first time, and realized that he was at least a foot taller than he was as a human.

James barely had time to marvel over this amazing development before his stomach twisted once
again, and he was suddenly flat on his back on the grass, back in his normal body. Scrambling to
his feet, he looked around and spotted the hoof prints which he’d left at the water’s edge,
confirmation that it wasn’t all a wild hallucination. James let out a loud whoop and raced back into
the castle. He had to tell the others about this.

Chapter End Notes

Oh, about the silver badge—there’s nothing in the Harry Potter books that suggests
werewolves are vulnerable to silver, so I didn’t feel like putting that bit of werewolf
lore in here. The HP wiki actually specifically says that they’re not vulnerable to it,
which I usually don’t give a damn about, but it works for me in this case because I just
don’t want to put it in. Especially because like, I’m sure there are plenty of silver
things in a place like Hogwarts, and having Remus hiss every time he gets close to any
of them just feels a bit too ridiculous for me to include.
 1975: Complicated

October brought frosts to the grounds of Hogwarts, and when Lily looked out her window one
morning to see the grass sparkling in the light of the rising sun, she smiled to herself. Lily loved
winter, and couldn’t wait for the snow to cover the grounds, making the castle look like a picture
out of a fairy tale. The sun rising over the distant mountains shone bright and cold, and Lily knew
that it would melt the frost in no time. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a movement near the
Forbidden Forest, and, looking closer, realized that there was a large, black dog near the tree line,
bounding along happily.

Lily shook her head exasperatedly. No doubt some student had decided to smuggle a pet dog into
the castle, then allowed it to run free and get lost. Probably a Gryffindor.

Turning away from the window, Lily pulled on her school uniform with an extra jumper for good
measure and grabbed her bag. She cast one last look out the window, and, seeing that the dog was
gone, headed down the stairs to the common room.

The common room was almost empty when she entered, with only a few students milling around,
presumably waiting for their friends before descending to breakfast. Lily passed through without a
word, exiting the portrait hole and heading down to the Great Hall.

It was a Monday morning, so many of the people seated at their house tables had bleary, tired looks
on their faces as they grumbled to their friends about their homework or lessons. Spotting Severus
at the Slytherin table, Lily tried to catch his eye, but he didn’t look at her, so she moved along to
the Gryffindor table and sat down at the very end, pulling a platter of food towards her and
beginning to serve herself.

She ate alone for a few minutes until someone slid into the spot across from her. Looking up in
surprise, Lily saw that it was Remus. He smiled at her, setting his plate down. “I saw you from the
end of the table, thought I’d join.”

“Where are your musketeers?” Lily asked, returning the smile. Remus shrugged, looking amused.

“Out galavanting somewhere, I think. I’m not quite sure. Peter was still asleep when I left the
dormitory, but Sirius and James’ beds were empty, so I’m sure I’ll hear about it later.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Hopefully whatever they’re up to isn’t ridiculous enough that I hear about it,
too.”

“Here’s to hoping,” Remus replied, clearly trying to conceal the secret little smile on his face
behind a gulp of pumpkin juice. “Where are the other girls in your dormitory?”

“I’m sure that Mary, Emmeline, and Hestia will be down in a bit,” Lily said. “And Dorcas and
Marlene were gone when I got up, so I assume they’re walking around the grounds this morning.
They do that often.”

Remus nodded, and they fell into a comfortable silence as they ate their food. Their peace was
broken, however, when James and Sirius slid into the seats next to them five minutes later, both
grinning widely.

“Morning, Evans,” James said, sitting down next to Lily and shooting her a grin.

“Potter,” she acknowledged him, raising her eyebrows and shifting slightly away from him.
“Where have you two been, then?” Remus asked, looking only mildly curious as he took a bite of
toast.

“Just exploring the grounds a bit,” Sirius responded, beaming at Remus. His cheeks were slightly
flushed, probably from the cold, and he looked very happy about something. Lily glanced across at
him suspiciously. Nothing that made Sirius Black this happy could be good news.

Remus glanced at Sirius sideways and returned his grin with a small smile. For a moment, Lily
thought she saw some kind of secret signal pass between them in their look, but then she blinked
and it was gone.

“Why didn’t you bring Pete with you, then?” Remus asked James. James shrugged.

“Wormy needed his beauty sleep,” he said. “He’ll be able to join us soon, I’d bet.”

Lily rolled her eyes inwardly, turning back to her food. Clearly, the boys were speaking in some
kind of so-called “Marauder” code, which she knew she wouldn’t be able to interpret even if she
wanted to. Luckily, Dorcas saved her from being the fourth wheel of their little boyband as she sat
down on Lily’s other side.

“Good morning,” Dorcas said cheerfully, smiling at Lily. Her cheeks, too, were tinted red with the
cold. Marlene sat down across from her, immediately grabbing a goblet of pumpkin juice and
ignoring Lily.

“Morning,” Lily replied cheerfully. “Did you have a good walk?”

“It was nice,” Dorcas said. “It’s getting a bit chilly these days, though.”

“You should’ve told me you were cold,” Marlene said, looking up from piling food onto her plate
and frowning slightly at Dorcas. “I could’ve lent you my jacket.”

“I was fine,” Dorcas replied, giving Marlene a pleased smile nonetheless. “Your tolerance to cold
always amazes me, Marley.”

Marlene shrugged. “I’m just warm-blooded is all.”

“You didn’t happen to see a dog out there, did you?” Lily asked Dorcas. “I saw one from our
window this morning.”

“A dog? No, I didn’t,” Dorcas replied, furrowing her brow slightly.

“There are no dogs at Hogwarts,” James said quickly, making Lily glance at him suspiciously.

“Yeah, Evans, you must’ve been imagining things,” Sirius added carelessly, smirking at her.
Remus shot him a glare, and Lily simply rolled her eyes and turned back to her food. She wasn’t in
the mood to snap back at him.

“Ready for Arithmancy this morning?” Dorcas asked Lily. Lily nodded.

“The homework was a bit difficult, but hopefully Professor Vector won’t be too harsh,” Lily
replied.

“She rarely is,” Dorcas said. “It was pretty complex.”

“I can always give you a hand if you want, Evans,” James said helpfully, leaning towards her with
a wide grin on his face. “I’m great at Arithmancy.”
“I don’t need a hand from you, thanks, Potter,” Lily responded, rolling her eyes and turning
resolutely away from him. Marlene stifled a snicker with her hand, meeting Sirius’ gaze
conspiratorially, and Dorcas rolled her eyes at the exchange.

....

When classes ended, Lily went out onto the grounds to read her large Ancient Runes book and
enjoy the cold sunlight shining onto the grass. Her favorite spot was by the edge of the lake, and
she leaned against a tree as she did her work. It was peaceful, though anyone watching her might
think she was lonely, with the grounds deserted around her, but Lily didn’t mind.

That was where Severus found her after his classes ended. Lily, absorbed in her reading, didn’t
notice that he was approaching until he was right in front of her, and had set down his bag on the
grass beside her.

“Hey, Sev,” she said, laying her book down on her lap. “How were your lessons?”

“Fine,” he replied, settling himself down beside her. “Nothing too exciting on Mondays for me.
Yours?”

“They went well,” Lily responded. “I like Mondays. They’re busy, but in a good way.”

“Doing Ancient Runes work?” Severus asked, nodding to the book in her lap. Lily nodded.

“We got a lot of reading from Professor Babbling for Wednesday,” she said. “It’s interesting,
though. Do you have a lot of homework?”

“Not much,” Severus responded. “I’ve actually been working on a project outside of classes a bit.
You know how I’m interested in inventing spells?”

His whole face lit up as he brought up the subject, and Lily could tell that he was bursting with
whatever information he was about to share. “Yeah?” she asked, raising her eyebrows curiously.

“Well, I think I’m beginning to get somewhere with one of them,” Severus said. “It’s called
Levicorpus, and the theory is that it’ll lift someone off the ground by their ankle.”

“Why would you want to do that?” Lily asked, her brow furrowed in concern. Severus rolled his
eyes at her.

“Oh, come on, Lily,” he said, his voice incredulous. “Wouldn’t you pay to see Potter or Black
hoisted up by their ankle in midair, helpless?”

Lily hesitated for a moment before replying. She didn’t want to spoil his good mood, but
something in her recoiled at the thought of the spell he was describing, and especially what uses it
might be put to in the wrong hands. “I don’t know, Sev,” Lily replied finally. “That’s not exactly
my idea of humor.”

“They’d deserve it,” Severus said as if he hadn’t heard her words, a savage, greedy look on his
face. “After all those stupid pranks they do on the Slytherins.”

“They’re immature prats, yes,” Lily conceded. “But Severus—is this spell safe?”

“I’m still working out the kinks,” Severus said, waving his hand dismissively. “I made it
nonverbal, which helped a lot.”
“How do you even know it works?” Lily asked, blinking in confusion. Then the answer dawned
upon her. “Wait, you haven’t been using it on people, have you?”

“It’s not a dangerous spell, Lily,” Severus said, smiling slightly at the worried look on her face.
“It’s just a laugh, really.”

“And who says it’s just a laugh? Rosier, Macnair, Wilkes, and Travers?” Lily asked, crossing her
arms over her chest and looking at him accusingly.

“If you have a problem with who I spend my time with—” Severus started, raising one dark
eyebrow and giving her a cold look.

“I’ve already told you that I do,” Lily interrupted him, frustrated. “I don’t trust those boys, and I
don’t think that trying out an unknown spell on random students is funny, even if they do.”

“I should’ve known you would react this way,” Severus responded, shaking his head in
disappointment.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Lily asked, hurt. Severus sighed and rolled his eyes.

“It just means…I’ve made my own spell, and you’re not exactly being supportive.”

“I think it’s great that you’re interested in inventing spells, Severus,” Lily said. “I just wish they
didn’t involve hanging people upside down by their ankle.”

“Well, when you come up with a better one, let me know,” Severus snapped back at her. “Do you
want me to leave you alone, then, or can I stay?”

“I never asked you to leave,” Lily said, flinching away from his harsh words. “I just wanted to—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, Lily,” Severus said, rolling his eyes. “Merlin, the other Gryffindors really are
rubbing off on you.”

“Well, I am a Gryffindor, Severus,” Lily replied, stung.

“You don’t need to remind me,” Severus said under his breath, digging around in his bag, pulling
out a book, and opening it, clearly done with the conversation. Lily opened her mouth several
times, trying to think of something else to say to get him to see reason, then closed it. She turned
back to her own book, a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach, and had a hard time
concentrating thereafter.

Lily and Severus only spoke again when the sun began to set over the lake, and Lily got up,
brushing grass off her skirt. “We’d better go to dinner,” she said, her tone still a little stiff from
their earlier conversation.

“Do you want to study in the library after?” Severus asked. “We could do the essay for Professor
Slughorn.”

“I have prefect rounds with Remus tonight,” Lily replied apologetically. “How about we work on
the essay tomorrow?”

“Oh,” Severus said, his expression growing cold again. “Say hello to him for me.” His voice was
toneless, and Lily stared at him.

“You’re not serious,” she said flatly.

“No, of course I’m not serious,” Severus responded, rolling his eyes. The two friends walked back
up to the castle in silence, parting in the entrance hall as they headed towards their respective house
tables, not even exchanging a single word of farewell. Lily felt a pang of sadness go through her as
she looked at Severus across the Great Hall, but again, he didn’t glance her way.

....

Several hours later, as Lily walked down a deserted corridor with Remus by her side, both of their
wands illuminated as they checked for people out of bed after hours, Lily’s mind went back to the
conversation by the lake. The spell that Severus had created continued to nag at her. Was she truly
overreacting? It wasn’t as if the spell was particularly dark or dangerous, but still, the thought of
someone hanging upside down like that, dangling helplessly midair...it made her skin crawl. There
was something wrong about it, she thought, and there was something even more wrong about the
idea of Severus enjoying the sight of someone dangling like that, helpless in front of him.

“Remus?” Lily asked. Her voice sounded strange as it echoed in the silent corridor, high and
anxious in a way that made her cringe inwardly.

“Hmm?” Remus inquired, looking over at her curiously. His brow furrowed as he took in the
worried expression on her face.

“What would you do if you realized your friend was…well, maybe not who you thought they
were?” Lily asked, chewing the inside of her cheek nervously as she glanced over at him.

Remus stiffened slightly. “Why do you ask?” he inquired, his tone calm in a way that almost
sounded forced.

“It’s just...with Severus lately,” Lily explained, deciding to put aside Remus’ strange behavior for
later. “I just feel like I barely know him anymore. Over time, I just feel more and more distant from
him and I don’t understand how he can say the things he does and hang around the people he
does.”

Remus visibly relaxed, then let out a contemplative sigh, glancing at her quickly before turning
back to watch the corridor ahead of them. “I’m not sure what to tell you, Lily,” he replied. “You
know how I feel about Severus.”

“I don’t, actually,” Lily said, glancing at him, her green eyes searching. “You always keep your
thoughts about him to yourself, around me at least.”

Remus turned to her, stopping their progress down the corridor for a moment, his lit wand pointed
to the ground. He gave her a long, searching look, then seemed to decide something.

“I don’t like him,” he replied finally, his words blunt. “I hate the way he treats me, and the way he
treats my friends. I hate the way he treats everyone, to be frank. Even if you don’t see it, Lily, it
doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. I’ve heard him call too many people slurs for me to like him.”

“No one ever tells me about what he does,” Lily replied quietly, lowering her gaze from his, as his
blue eyes had become suddenly too piercing for her comfort. “Not anymore.”

“It’s because we all know you don’t want to hear it,” Remus said, studying her face carefully in the
low lighting. “But for the record, and as long as you’re asking, Lily, I don’t think you should be
friends with him. You deserve better than someone who treats you like you’re an exception to their
prejudice.”

“He’s my oldest friend,” Lily replied feebly. “I just want to...I don’t know, save him from all of it.”
“That’s not your job,” Remus said sharply, then his expression softened when she flinched. “I’m
sorry, but it isn’t. If he can’t see what he’s doing is wrong by now, I’m not sure if he’ll ever see it.”

Lily nodded, her cheeks reddening in a way that she hoped wasn’t detectable in the dark corridor.
She turned and continued to walk down the corridor, Remus quickly matching her step in silence as
she tried to process what Remus had said. She knew that Remus was still watching her out of the
corner of his eye, trying to gauge her reaction to his words, but her mind had returned to the
beginning of their conversation, and when she finally spoke again, she asked him about it.

“Remus...did you flinch earlier because you thought I was talking about you? When I said the thing
about finding out your friend is not who you think they are?” Lily didn’t look at him as she spoke,
addressing her question to the empty hallway ahead, but she could almost feel him tense at the
words, beside her.

“W-What?” Remus asked, his voice shaking slightly. “What do you mean?”

Lily was the one to stop this time, turning to give him a long look full of meaning as he came to an
unwilling halt at her side. “Remus,” she said, making her words gentle, trying to soften the blow. “I
know you’re a werewolf.”

There was a slight pause, where Remus just stared at her, his eyes wide. Then he forced a laugh,
which came out sounding very strained. “Lily,” he said, not fully meeting her eyes as he said it,
“Why on earth would you say something like that?”

“Come on, Remus,” Lily said, raising her eyebrows at him. “I’ve known for a while. I just never
brought it up because I figured you didn’t want me to know. But I would never tell anyone. You
don’t have to lie.”

Remus looked like he was struggling with himself for a moment, and started to speak several times,
then finally met Lily’s insistent gaze on him, seeming to deflate slightly.

“How long have you known?” he asked tiredly, his voice coming out in a hushed whisper that still
echoed slightly off the walls. Lily shrugged, allowing him to continue their slow pace down the
corridor, wands held before them to illuminate their way.

“I did a lot of reading about the wizarding world before I got to Hogwarts,” Lily explained. “And I
noticed that you were ill or missing about once a month in first year. One day I realized that you
were gone on the full moon, and then I kept track after that. I was certain by the end of the year.”

“First year?” Remus choked out, glancing over at her with wide eyes. “You’ve known since first
year and you never said anything?”

“Like I said,” Lily replied, shrugging again. “I didn’t think you wanted me to know. And it never
made any difference to me.”

“You’re—” Remus started, then shook his head exasperatedly. “You’re a bloody miracle, Lily
Evans, do you know that?”

Lily laughed. “I’m not sure what that means, but I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“It is one,” Remus said, sighing and running a hand over his hair. “I mean...thank you. For not
saying anything, and not seeing me differently.”

“Of course,” Lily replied, giving him a little shrug. She couldn’t imagine what else she would’ve
done. “Do your friends know? Your dormmates, I mean.”
“Yes, they know. Since second year.”

“Let me guess—Black got nosy,” Lily said, giving Remus a knowing look. Remus shot her another
surprised glance.

“Are you a Legilimens by any chance?”

Lily snorted slightly. “No, I just know your friends. Potter is oblivious and so is Peter, but Sirius
gets in everyone’s business. Especially yours.”

“He was very nosy about it in second year,” Remus admitted. “Kept prying and asking questions
about where I went. It scared the living daylights out of me if I’m honest. But they were great
about it.”

“I’ll have to add that to a short list of their redeeming qualities,” Lily replied, unable to conceal her
smile.

“Maybe if you gave them a chance, it’d be longer,” Remus replied, smiling cheekily back.

“Oh, please,” Lily said, rolling her eyes. “If you start preaching to me about their good qualities,
I’ll have to re-evaluate being your friend.”

“No preaching here,” Remus said, holding up his hands and smiling innocently. “I just think that
things aren’t as black and white as you may think they are, Lily. You may want to consider the
idea that while James and Sirius are annoying prats some of the time, they might also be good
people.”

“I guess I’ll take it under advisement,” Lily said, only half joking. “It’s hard to tell who is good and
who is bad around here these days,” she admitted. “Feels like everyone is against each other in the
wizarding world, and I never know who’s right.”

“It’s not always clear to me, either,” Remus said. “Not for werewolf rights, that’s for sure. Most
wizards think werewolves are monsters, I can tell you. Even most wizards who support Muggle-
born and magical creature rights think that way.”

“That’s terrible,” Lily said, frowning at Remus sympathetically.

“It is,” Remus said, shrugging, his voice measured. “There are some people who advocate for us.
The thing is, though, a bunch of those people are on the wrong side. Lord Voldemort—that dark
wizard who’s gaining power, you know—thinks he can use werewolves for his agenda and says
he’ll give them rights after he takes over. That’s partially why it’s so taboo to stand up for
werewolf rights. We’re dark creatures.”

“But you’re not dark!” Lily exclaimed, looking at him incredulously. “You’re just you. It’s not
something you can help. You didn’t ask for it to happen to you.”

Remus let out a hollow laugh. “You grew up with Muggles, though, Lily,” he reminded her. “In my
opinion, that’s an advantage in some ways, in terms of how you view the wizarding world. These
kinds of prejudices...they run deep, and they’re passed down from generation to generation. It’s
awful, but it’s the way it is.”

“It shouldn’t be,” Lily said fiercely.

“No, it shouldn’t,” Remus agreed. “But to your earlier point, I do think that there’s more of a clear-
cut line between good and bad when it comes to Muggle-born rights. People choose their sides.
Maybe that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s true.”

Lily sighed. “I don’t want there to be sides,” she said. “I didn’t sign up for any of this when I
started Hogwarts, Remus. I just want things to be simple.”

“I know,” Remus said. “It’s awful. None of us signed up for any of it. And I hope it won’t be like
this forever. There are people like Dumbledore and Marlene’s father fighting for people’s rights in
the Ministry.”

“Marlene’s father?” Lily asked, turning to him with her brow furrowed.

“Yeah, Mr. McKinnon is head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation in the
Ministry,” Remus said, raising his eyebrows at Lily. “He’s got quite a lot of power there, James
told me, and he lobbies for the end of blood status discrimination often.”

“I didn’t know that,” Lily said, narrowing her eyes contemplatively. How, in the four whole years
that she’d lived with Marlene, had this never come up? Well, she conceded to herself, perhaps it
wasn’t too surprising. The two girls rarely spoke to one another directly, after all.

Remus smiled knowingly at her. “Marlene was raised to think everyone should be equal, no matter
their blood status,” he said. “And I know she believes that with her whole heart. You must know
that she routinely picks fights over it.”

“I thought she just hated Slytherin house,” Lily admitted.

Remus laughed, an affectionate smile coming onto his face. “She does. But there’s more to
Marlene than the irritating pain-in-the-arse roommate you love to hate, Lily.”

“I don’t hate her,” Lily defended herself. “I just don’t like her very much. And she doesn’t like me
either.”

“She hates to see you stand up for Snape,” Remus said. “I think that’s most of the reason why she
doesn’t like you, to be honest. She just thinks you’re a hypocrite for doing it.”

“Do you think I’m a hypocrite?” Lily asked, looking at him rather desperately. Remus smiled sadly
down at her and shook his head.

“No, Lily,” he replied. “I think it’s more complicated than that.”

Remus’ words stuck with Lily for a long time, and she thought about them as she climbed into her
four-poster bed that night and drew the curtains closed around her. The rest of the girls had already
gone to sleep, and the room was quiet and still, apart from the sound of Marlene’s soft snoring
from her bed across the room. In her first year, Lily had been annoyed by Marlene’s snores, but in
the years since, she’d grudgingly accepted the fact that there was nothing better to lull her to sleep.
Remus was right, Lily thought, laying down on her pillow and drawing her covers over her. Things
were more complicated than Lily sometimes gave them credit for.
 1975: The Moon

“So, what about Tuesday?”

Remus didn’t look around at Sirius when he spoke, the other boy hurrying to match Remus’ pace as
he marched resolutely towards the grounds one Friday in mid-November. The Gryffindor fifth
years had just got out of Charms and were now heading towards Care of Magical Creatures, their
last lesson before lunch that day. As they exited the castle, a blast of cold wind hit them, cutting
right through Remus’ jumper. He shivered but continued to look resolutely in front of him, rather
than meet Sirius’ persistent gaze. James and Peter walked a few paces behind them, observing but
not joining their conversation.

“What about Tuesday?” Remus returned, his voice mild. He’d been waiting for Sirius to bring this
subject up for the entire week and was honestly surprised that he hadn’t done it until then. His
friend wasn’t known for his restraint.

“Oh, don’t play dumb, Moony!” Sirius exclaimed, and Remus could almost hear him roll his eyes.
“You know it’s the full moon. It’s been over a month since we’ve all been able to transform into
animals. Last full moon you deflected, and now you’re avoiding. Out with it, what’s wrong?”

“Keep your voice down,” Remus hissed, finally deigning to look at Sirius if only to shoot him a
glare, even though they were at least ten yards away from all of their other classmates. “Look, I
just think you all need to practice more before—”

“That’s what you said last month!” Sirius interrupted, his voice an indignant stage whisper.
“We’ve practiced all we need to! It’s easy at this point, isn’t it Prongs, Wormtail?”

Remus glanced back at the other two boys, still not slowing his pace as he did so. James was giving
Sirius an annoyed, leave me out of this kind of look, while Peter flushed and said quietly: “I mean,
it is pretty natural now, Moony.” He quailed under the glare that Remus fixed him with.

“See, Moony?” Sirius said, giving Remus a self-satisfied look and ignoring Peter’s red cheeks
under Remus’ glare. “It’s a piece of cake, we don’t need any more practice.”

“Look, I’m just not comfortable with it yet, okay? Another month, maybe,” Remus said. He
privately doubted whether another month would do much difference in terms of making him more
comfortable with the idea of the other boys joining him at the full moon, but he didn’t say this.
They were nearing the Care of Magical Creatures class now.

“We’ve been working on this for three years, Moony,” Sirius persisted. “And you know what it’s
all been for? It’s been for you, so you don’t have to be in as much pain as you always are every
month.”

“You don’t need to remind me of that, Padfoot,” Remus snapped back. “I think I know what kind
of pain I’ve been in better than you do.” There was a long silence, the only sounds the leaves
crunching under their feet and the distant chatter of their classmates, during which Remus didn’t
look at Sirius.

“I know you do,” Sirius replied finally, his voice slightly lower, regret tingeing it now. “That’s not
what I meant. I just—I just want to help.”

“Can we talk about this later?” Remus asked tensely as they joined their class, who were all
gathered around Professor Kettleburn, casting a quick glance at Sirius before looking away. Sirius
nodded, his pale cheeks slightly pink, either from the cold or due to his hasty words. Remus turned
away from his friends to look at Professor Kettleburn with the rest of the class as the old man
began to talk about Porlocks, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw James give Sirius an
admonitory look.

“You’re never going to convince him if you act like that,” James whispered under his breath to
Sirius, the sound still carrying to Remus easily. “The more aggressive you get about it, the more
Moony will dig his heels in. Just let up, okay?”

Remus didn’t hear Sirius’ reply. He looked over at Mary and Lily, who were both taking notes
furiously, and grabbed his notebook out of his bag to do the same.

....

Sirius didn’t bring up the subject of the full moon during any of the rest of their classes, and stayed
uncharacteristically quiet throughout the day. That afternoon, Peter went off to do Muggle Studies
homework with Layla Greengrass, whom he was beginning to date, while Remus, Sirius, and
James returned to the dormitory. Remus set his bag down next to his bed and began to rummage
through it, taking out his textbooks and placing them on his bedside table.

“Moony?” Sirius asked behind him, his tone tentative.

Remus sighed and turned to look at him, knowing he was about to return to the subject they’d both
been avoiding all day. Sirius’ grey eyes looked vulnerable now, however, and his expression was
more cautious than before. Remus always wondered at how Sirius could shift so quickly from
being aggressive and loud to the way he looked now, with this heartbreakingly soft expression on
his face as he looked at Remus.

“Yes?” Remus asked, his earlier coldness melting slightly under Sirius’ gaze.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Sirius said, coming forward to stand in front of the other boy awkwardly.
“You know me, I get worked up too easily. I just hate to see you in pain, Remus.”

Remus hesitated, looking at Sirius then quickly looking away again. “I know.”

“It’s just that I’ve been wanting for so long to be able to become an Animagus so you wouldn’t
have to be alone,” Sirius admitted, and Remus knew he was still gazing at him, his eyes burning a
hole in Remus’ cheek as Remus looked away from him. “And now we’ve done it, and you still
won’t let me help.”

There was a pause, during which Remus tried to shove away the feeling of vulnerability Sirius had
somehow transferred to him with his words, tried to build the walls back up. When this attempt
failed, he decided to tell the truth.

“I’m scared,” Remus admitted, finally looking at Sirius again.

“I know,” Sirius responded, not pausing to take a breath, as if he really had known the whole time,
which made Remus cringe inwardly at his apparent transparency. “But you don’t need to be.”

“But I do need to be,” Remus insisted, gazing back at Sirius imploringly, trying to get him to
understand. “I do.”

“Maybe—” James piped up, and Remus started, looking around to where James was sitting on his
bed a few yards away. He’d forgotten that the other boy was there. “If you told us what you were
scared of, it would help.”
Remus stared back at him for a moment, then took a deep breath, letting the floodgates open.
“What if your research was wrong? What if I go after one of you, and then I bite you and you
turn?”

Sirius made to interrupt, but James held up a hand to silence him, nodding for Remus to continue.
Remus did, his words coming out even faster as he went on.

“What if one of the teachers finds out and you all get expelled for being unregistered Animagi?
What if one of our classmates finds out and we all get exposed to the whole wizarding world?” He
didn’t stop for breath as he finished, his mouth dry. “What if I ruin all of your lives, just because
you wanted to do this for me, to keep me from being alone? Maybe I’m better off alone.”

He avoided Sirius’ eyes as he said this, but he knew that Sirius was still looking at him. James still
looked calm, even in the face of Remus’ panicked rambling, and he waited a moment before
responding.

“You can trust us,” he said quietly, getting up and walking over to Remus, putting a hand on his
shoulder. “I can’t say much else to convince you that it’s going to be okay and that those things
aren’t going to happen, but I can tell you that you can trust us. We’ll always be cautious and we’ll
always keep your secret. I hope you know that.”

Remus sighed. “I do, but—”

“I know we’re not always the most cautious about our other exploits,” Sirius interrupted. “But
those aren’t important. This is important. I swear, we will be careful.”

“You’ve never seen me in my werewolf form before,” Remus said, so quietly that they could
barely hear him. As soon as he said it, he knew that this was the real reason behind his fear. It was
the thing that had filled him with dread from the moment that James had first announced that he’d

been able to transform fully into his Animagus form. A small, broken voice in Remus’ mind asked:
What if they see me and think I’m a monster after all?

“Is that what’s really bothering you?” Sirius asked, seeming to deflate slightly as he said it, now
looking at Remus with a sympathetic sort of disbelief on his face. “You think we’ll see you
differently afterward?”

Remus looked away, his throat tight, but gave a tiny nod in response.

“That’s not going to happen,” James said. “We know what you are, Moony. You’re a werewolf, but
you’re not a monster. Whatever happens, I’ll always know you as our Remus, our friend. The one
who judges our dumb prank ideas and threatens to give us detention, though I know you’ll never
really do it.”

Remus snorted, a smile playing across his face against his will.

“I know it’s not the same, but I’ve seen pictures of werewolves,” Sirius said, grinning slightly.
“They just look like normal wolves to me, except for the tufted tail, shape of the snout, and pupils
of the eyes. I doubt your appearance will throw any of us off.”

“What about Wormtail?” Remus asked. “Do you think he feels the same?”

“Wormy’s fine,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, he can’t do that much, he’s too small.
He’ll run and hide if he’s scared—that’s what he always does when a prank goes south. Don’t
worry about him.”
“You know,” James said. “You’re not going to be any less scared next full moon, or the one after
that. And if you let us come this time, it’s one fewer full moon that you’ll have to spend alone.”

Remus stood still for a long moment, his eyes flicking back and forth between them. Their faces
were set, determined, and finally, he relented.

“I go up to the shack with Madam Pomfrey at sunset,” Remus said finally, his heart beating fast as
he tried to comprehend the magnitude of what he was agreeing to. “But I only transform when the
moon gets higher in the sky, around six p.m or so. You can’t come before that. Come at seven, I’ll
be fully transformed then.”

“But—” Sirius began to protest.

“No,” Remus cut him off, sending him a glare. “I don’t want you to see it.”

“Okay,” Sirius responded, looking slightly taken aback by Remus’ harsh tone.

“Are you sure, Moony?” James asked gently. “I don’t want you to feel pressured into this.”

“I’m sure,” Remus said, his jaw set, his heart pounding rapidly against his sternum. “I—it’ll be
alright, won’t it?” He gazed desperately from Sirius to James.

“Of course it will,” Sirius said, his eyes blazing with certainty, which Remus was grateful for.

....

The weekend passed in a blur, and sooner than Remus had expected, Tuesday dawned, cold and
clear. He fidgeted his way through his lessons, his eyes flitting to the clock every so often, thinking
about that evening. Of course, full moon days were often like this: Remus’ nerves on edge, his
moods unstable, and his whole body feeling restless and achy. Throughout the day, his muscles
would tense and release, and he’d sometimes feel his joints and bones shift slightly as if they were
readying themselves for the evening. It hurt, but nothing could compare to what happened when
the moon rose.

None of the other boys knew about that part, not even Sirius. Of course, Sirius knew when Remus
was in pain when he was healing from injuries, but Remus had never gone into detail with any of
his friends about how much it hurt to have his bones reshape themselves into his wolf form during
the transformations. He’d never told them about how he ached for days afterward as if they were
still shifting back.

Remus didn’t want them to see him transforming, didn’t want them to hear him scream, his brain
halfway between wolf and human, both parts of his mind in pure agony. They couldn’t understand
that. They were Animagi, not werewolves, and Animagi transformed without pain. Lycanthropy
was a curse, after all. Being an Animagus was a choice.

“Are you alright, Remus?” Lily asked quietly from beside him in Transfiguration that afternoon.
He started slightly and turned to her, realizing as he did so that he’d been tapping the end of his
quill nervously on his desk.

“Yeah, sorry, Lily,” he said guiltily, putting his quill down and trying to calm his restless hands.
“I’m just a bit fidgety today.”

Lily nodded, giving him a searching look. “It’s—” she looked around surreptitiously, but everyone
else was focusing on the task of vanishing the hedgehogs that Professor McGonagall had set them.
“It’s the full moon tonight, isn’t it?” she whispered.
“Yeah, it is,” Remus admitted. He noticed that at the front of the classroom, McGonagall was
studiously pretending not to notice that he and Lily weren’t working on their vanishing spells, and
smiled slightly. McGonagall always went easy on him in the days leading up to and following full
moons.

“You’re nervous?” Lily asked, tilting her head inquisitively at him. Remus shrugged.

“I always am,” he admitted, hoping she wouldn’t pick up on the fact that this was only half of the
truth, glancing over at her. Her emerald eyes glinted in the rare sun streaming from the windows as
she examined him sympathetically.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Quite a lot,” Remus said, grimacing.

“And you’re in pain now, too, aren’t you?” Lily asked, looking at him in concern. Remus’ eyes
widened in surprise as he stared at her.

“How did you—”

“Just something about the way you’re moving today,” Lily shrugged. “It’s subtle but different.”

“Yeah, I’m always in pain around the full moons,” Remus admitted. “No one’s ever really noticed
that before.”

“I guess I’m more observant than most, then,” Lily joked, smiling slightly. “Is there anything I can
do, Remus? To help, I mean.”

Remus smiled at her, surprised but grateful at her offer. “There isn’t, but thanks, Lily,” he said. “I
really appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” Lily said, looking back at her hedgehog, which was nosing around on the desk, its
needles only a little paler than they were at the start of the lesson. “I’m rubbish at Transfiguration,”
she moaned, looking at it impatiently.

Remus laughed. “You’re not rubbish at Transfiguration,” he said. “You probably have an E in this
class. It’s just not your best class.”

“Just like Potions isn’t your best,” Lily teased.

Remus snorted. “I think comparing my Potions skills to your Transfiguration skills is a bit rich,” he
said. “Don’t insult yourself.”

Lily giggled. “There’s always room for improvement.”

“Sure, Potions Princess,” Remus said. Lily scoffed and shoved his arm lightly, but they were both
smiling.

“Mr. Lupin, Miss Evans, I would appreciate it if you turned your attention back to the task at
hand,” Professor McGonagall said from the front of the class, raising her eyebrows at them, but
there was no bite behind her words.

“Sorry, Professor,” Remus said, giving her a small smile, while Lily smiled apologetically at her as
well. Lily turned back to her hedgehog, and Remus felt a little bit better, even though a headache
had begun to pound beneath his temple. Glancing around, he spotted Sirius and James sitting at a
table near theirs. Sirius was still trying to vanish his hedgehog, while James’ was already gone, and
he was staring at Remus and Lily wistfully.

James perked up slightly when he saw Remus look over at him, and raised his eyebrows hopefully,
nodding to Lily. Remus knew his friend well enough to translate this look to mean: Can you talk
me up to her? James had only asked Remus to do so about a million times before. Remus rolled his
eyes and shook his head, and James slumped back into his seat, looking grumpy. Remus snorted,
smiling, and turned back to his work.

Remus’ good mood didn’t last long. After Transfiguration was double History of Magic, and while
Lily had promised him that she’d lend him her notes if he didn’t share them with the rest of the
Marauders, Remus couldn’t relax. His skin kept crawling and his body was beginning to heat up as
if he had a fever. He felt as if he was shut in a small space full of hot air, trapped in his own body.

“You alright, Moony?” Sirius asked, leaning over to look at Remus more closely, concern in his
grey eyes.

“Fine,” Remus responded through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to push Sirius away from him. If
anyone so much as touched him at the moment, he’d have to try hard not to punch them. Sirius
nodded, though his expression was disbelieving, and he leaned back from Remus as if sensing that
his friend was liable to explode at any moment.

The hands on the clock moved very slowly, but at four-thirty the bell finally rang, and Remus
practically leapt to his feet, desperate to leave the stuffy classroom. Sirius, standing up beside him,
reached over to grab Remus’ bag.

“I can bring this back to the dormitory for you,” he said quietly, swinging it over his own shoulder.
“You have to go meet Madam Pomfrey now, don’t you?”

“Thanks,” Remus said. “Yeah, I’ll see you later.” He realized, then, that the next time Sirius would
see him, he’d be in his wolf form. His heart began to beat even faster than it already had been due
to the approaching transformation, and he met Sirius’ grey eyes, feeling terrified again. “Sirius—”

“It’ll be alright,” Sirius said, reaching out as if to touch Remus’ shoulder, then dropping his hand,
apparently thinking better of it. His eyes were steady on Remus’, however. “I’ll see you later.”

“Okay,” Remus said, nodding and trying to make himself believe it. He hesitated, then turned and
hurried out of the classroom.

Luckily, the History of Magic classroom was very close to the Hospital Wing, and Madam
Pomfrey was waiting for him there. “Ah, Mr. Lupin,” she said as he hurried in. “Ready to go?”

“Yes,” Remus responded, his heart beating rapidly. “I’m ready.”

Madam Pomfrey led him across the darkening lawn towards the Whomping Willow, then used her
wand to levitate a stick on the ground to prod the knot at the base of the tree, causing it to freeze so
that they could get through to the tunnel. They entered, both bent double due to the low ceiling,
and hurried down the passage. Once they reached the shack, Madam Pomfrey turned to Remus, a
small, kind smile on her face.

“Do you need anything else from me, dear?”

“No, thank you, Madam Pomfrey,” Remus responded, as he did every month. She nodded, then
turned and disappeared back down the tunnel, leaving him alone.
Remus listened to the sounds of her footsteps receding down the passageway for a minute, then,
when she was gone, he looked around. The shack looked as it always did: dusty and abandoned.
Though Remus knew that it’d only been built the year that he arrived at Hogwarts, and therefore
was only a few years old, it appeared far older. Having a werewolf tear it apart every month will
do that to a house, Remus thought wryly.

With his hand on the railing, Remus slowly ascended the staircase toward the upper level. Now
that he was alone, he felt slightly calmer, though his insides were still churning, his skin tingling,
and his bones starting to ache, as they always did at this point. It was familiar, though, and now
that he was there, he just had to wait for the transformation to happen.

Remus reached the second floor and walked towards the door at the end of the short hall, which
was ajar. He pushed the door open and entered the room. This was the room he always went to
wait for the transformation, as it was the most comfortable, and wasn’t as dark as the rest of the
house. It was slightly dusty, with a large four-poster bed against one wall, a window covered by
thin curtains opposite the door, and a round table with a chair next to it. The legs of both the table
and chair were ragged, torn from his transformations, but they were miraculously still stable.
Remus ignored them, however, and laid down on the bed.

His heart was hammering against his chest, and his temperature continued to climb as he lay there,
staring at the top of the hangings. He knew it must be around five now, as the room was only
dimly lit by the receding light from the window. Perhaps the transformation would come even
sooner that night than he’d expected, Remus thought vaguely, as the days were getting shorter.

Sweating now, Remus unbuttoned and pulled off his shirt. This only marginally improved his
trapped, overheated feeling, so he sighed and removed his shoes and trousers, too, and shoved
everything below the bed. He hoped this would keep the wolf from tearing them to shreds, though
he or someone else could always repair them in the morning if that happened.

He got up and began to pace the room, stopping to glance out of the window every so often.
Through the thin sheet of fabric shielding him from view, he could tell that outside, the darkness
was deepening. Remus began to scratch his skin, restless and frustrated with the awful crawling
sensation across it.

His mind suddenly went to James, Sirius, and Peter. Were they sitting in the dormitory, waiting for
the moon to rise, or were they going about their business as usual? Perhaps they were in the
common room, talking and joking with Marlene and Dorcas, or maybe Peter was with Layla again.
Remus’ skin was now raw and stinging, but he welcomed the feeling. It drew him back into the
present, away from the castle and his friends, who would be here in mere hours.

Over the course of the next few minutes, the dull ache that had been invading his body for the past
six hours intensified, spreading up his feet and through his legs, his torso, his shoulders, and his
arms. He groaned softly, and sat down on the rickety chair, biting his nails and trying to contain the
scream that was building in his throat as the pain became overwhelming.

Soon, Remus knew, it would become too much. He’d scream, and at that point, he’d stop being
him. As the pain took over, he’d be unable to think, and at that point, the wolf would take over,
too. He tried to prolong the time until that moment, holding back the scream by gritting his teeth. It
was too soon, much too soon. The moon couldn’t be high in the sky yet.

He stood again and began to pace as the pain intensified. His migraine worsened, too, and as his
vision began to cloud, he knew he couldn’t hold it back much longer. Just then, his left leg buckled
and he fell to the floor as a bone in his shin cracked, the noise ringing through the quiet house,
followed, finally, by his scream. Remus’ mind went blank, overwhelmed by the pain and the effort
it had taken to hold it back, and he finally gave in.

....

The next morning, Remus began to stir as the room lightened, the weak sunlight from the window
illuminating the place where he lay on the four-poster bed. Opening his eyes, he took in the
peculiar sight of the room around him. Laying by the bed was a large, bear-like dog, snoring softly,
its breath stirring the bed hangings by its nose. Next to the chair and table, which had both been
overturned at some point in the night, lay a large stag, its chin resting on the floor in front of it.
Beside the stag there was a large grey rat, curled into a ball, its flank rising and falling softly, too.

Looking down at himself, Remus realized that he was half-covered in a blanket that had lain
previously on the four-poster bed, and was grateful for whoever had thought to cover him. He
pushed himself into a sitting position, pain shooting through his limbs as he did so. Still, he
realized that it wasn’t as much pain as usual. As far as he could see, there were no scratches or bite
marks anywhere on his body, and that was a first.

Next to him, the large black dog stirred and lifted its head, no doubt disturbed by Remus’
movement. Sirius stood up and wagged his tail once, then transformed back into his human form,
on his hands and knees next to the bed. His hair was messy and his face was a little dirty, but
otherwise, he looked just the same as when Remus had seen him last.

Sirius got to his feet and moved closer to the bed, leaning over Remus. “You okay, Moony?” he
asked, concern written all over his face.

“Yeah,” Remus said, then coughed slightly. His throat was sore. “I think so.”

Sirius’ face broke into a relieved smile, and Remus couldn’t help but smile back. He’d never
woken up from a full moon like this, with someone to greet him so nearby. He felt different, too. In
the back of his mind, something shifted, and an image came to the forefront. It was of the grounds,
bathed in moonlight, and Remus thought perhaps he was running, the forms of the black dog and
the stag beside him. Remus started and stared at Sirius.

“I—I remember last night,” he blurted out, shocked. “I’ve never remembered any part of a full
moon before, but I think I remember last night.”

“What do you remember?” Sirius asked, eyes intent upon him. Remus tried to focus his memories,
but they were mere flashes.

“I’m not sure, it’s not clear,” he replied slowly. “Running across the grounds and through the
forest, I think.”

“Yeah, we ran around basically all night,” Sirius said. “I’d never seen so much of the grounds
before.”

“I think…” Remus started but trailed off, confused. He took a deep breath and looked at Sirius. “I
think I felt happy. When I think about it, it feels free...and good. I’m not used to that.”

Sirius’ face broke into a wide smile this time, and he beamed at Remus. “Thank Merlin,” he said.
“That means it worked.”

Remus stared at Sirius, speechless with gratitude as he tried to remember more of the previous
night. None of the memories were coherent—he couldn’t piece them together, and yet he couldn’t
remember ever feeling so free in his life. Most mornings after the full moon, all Remus could feel
was pain and the residual restlessness and frustration that came from his werewolf side being
trapped in the house for the whole night. Yes, he was still in pain, but he felt as if a weight had
been lifted from his chest.

“What time is it?” Remus asked suddenly, looking around at Prongs and Wormtail, still snoozing
on the ground. Sirius checked his watch and looked up at Remus.

“Only seven,” he said. “The sun’s barely even up yet, Moony.”

“You all should get going anyway,” Remus told him. “Madam Pomfrey will probably be here to
get me soon.”

“Okay,” Sirius said, standing up straight. “I’ll wake the others.” He walked over to their two
friends and poked them both lightly with his foot, then went to stand the table and chair up
properly again while they woke.

James transformed back into his human form, stretching as he did so, followed by Peter. He took
his glasses out of his pocket and put them on, then smiled at Remus. “Alright, Moony?”

“Yeah, I’m alright,” Remus said, smiling. Peter grinned back at him, too, rubbing at a crick in his
neck as he did so.

“I…thanks for last night,” Remus said, flushing slightly as he avoided their gazes. “Sorry for being
such a stubborn arse about it beforehand.”

James laughed lightly. “You don’t have to apologize or thank us for anything, Remus,” he said.
“We were happy to do it.”

“Of course we were,” Peter echoed. “Anyway, if you weren’t a stubborn arse, you wouldn’t be
Moony.”

Remus smiled at him feebly, still feeling a little shell-shocked by the entire experience.

“Moony thinks we should get going to make sure we miss Pomfrey,” Sirius said to the others.
James nodded, and, with some difficulty, pulled his invisibility cloak from his trouser pocket,
Remus’ looking on in puzzlement.

“Undetectable extension charm,” James said, noting Remus’ bemusement and giving him a wink.
“Took a few tries, but I got it. Florence showed me how. Anyway, we can put this on just to make
sure we don’t run into Pomfrey on the way out. See you in Potions later, Moony?”

“See you,” Remus responded, smiling weakly. Sirius grinned at him, too, and the three boys
disappeared under the cloak. The door opened wider, then shut, and Remus heard their progress
down the stairs and out of the shack.

Remus fell back upon the bed, letting out a long sigh. It was amazing to him, he thought, how
normal they’d all acted. It was like they hadn’t spent the whole night running around the grounds
with a werewolf. Still, he guessed that they’d all mentally prepared themselves for this occurrence
years before, when they’d decided to become Animagi, and he was the one catching up. He let out
a quiet laugh. Despite all of his worry, it’d all been alright. More than alright—wonderful.

Remus swung his feet onto the floor and pushed himself to his feet. His muscles protested, but he
ignored the pain and bent down to reach under the bed for his clothes. He pulled them on, glad that
none of them had been damaged in the night, and sat to wait for Madam Pomfrey.

As he waited, Remus looked towards the window again, though not truly seeing it. He was
thinking of the grounds and his friends, trying to remember. Another memory drifted to the
forefront of his brain, clearer than the others. He watched his friends, transformed into animals,
through his own eyes. They were sitting by the lake, and as he looked down at the water, Remus
saw the reflection of the full moon glimmering in it, and looked up at the real thing, glowing in the
sky.

Remus couldn’t remember ever seeing the full moon before. He knew he must have seen it before
he’d been bitten, but he’d been so young then that he couldn’t remember. Last night, however, the
moon had looked distant and harmless, nothing more than a glowing orb in the sky.

Back to the present, Remus realized that he was crying. Tears trickled down his face onto his neck,
and he buried his face in his hands, letting them come. After about ten minutes, he heard Madam
Pomfrey downstairs and dried his wet face on his shirt, standing up and getting ready for her to
take him back to the castle.

An hour and a half later, Remus sat down in Potions between Peter and Mary, while James and
Sirius took the table behind them, next to Dorcas and Marlene. Lily sat down next to Mary and
gave him a small smile pulling out her copy of their Potions text. While Mary was talking to Peter,
Lily leaned over slightly and addressed Remus.

“You alright?” she asked. Remus gave her a small smile.

“Yeah,” he replied, moving to grab his own book out of his bag. “Yeah, I am.”
 1975: Christmas With or Without You
Chapter Notes

cw: mentions of past abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

On Saturday, December 20th, the Hogwarts students who were going home for the holidays
boarded the Hogwarts Express and readied themselves for the long train ride back to London.
During the bumpy carriage ride down to the village, Hestia watched the snow that was just starting
to fall from the window, the flakes drifting down tentatively only to melt on the not yet frozen
ground. On the train, Hestia, Mary, and Emmeline found a compartment for themselves, while
Dorcas and Marlene wished them all a good break before darting off to sit with the Marauders.

After only five minutes, the girls were joined by Lily, much to their surprise, though they all hid it
studiously. Lily didn’t usually sit with the other girls in her dormitory on train rides to and from
Hogwarts, and Hestia wondered if her sudden presence signified a further deterioration in her
relationship with her best friend, Snape. While the two were usually inseparable, Hestia had noted
that the air between the two had grown as cold as that of the winter grounds lately. Still, Lily said
nothing to either confirm or deny Hestia’s theory, so she kept it to herself, choosing to talk to
Emmeline about the holidays instead while they played chess. Emmeline had already lost once that
day, as Hestia was the far superior chess player of the two, but her friend had declared that she’d
get the better of her at some point.

“I just wish I would have time off for even one of my holidays,” Emmeline sighed, moving her
queen forward to take Hestia’s bishop. “It’s not even just Hanukkah. Rosh Hashanah is my
favorite, and this year it was right after school started.”

“I’m sorry, Em,” Hestia said, giving her friend a sympathetic look even while taking out her pawn
with a castle, trying not to give away the plan she was already concocting as she examined the
placement of the pieces on the board. “Maybe we can figure out how to make Passover special in
the spring term together?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” Emmeline said, still frowning slightly. “But I wish I could be with my
family for it.”

“I know,” Hestia said. “It’s really dumb that you can’t.”

Emmeline shrugged and turned to Lily, clearly wanting to change the subject and zeroing in on
Lily’s obvious distraction as an outlet. “Are you looking forward to going home for Christmas,
Lily?”

Lily was staring at the snow falling outside the window but started when Emmeline addressed her
and turned to look back at her roommates. “Yes, I suppose so,” she said. “I miss my parents. It’ll be
nice to see them again.”

“And Petunia?” Mary asked, looking up from her book and sweeping her curtain of dark hair
behind her ear as she looked at Lily. Lily sighed and met the other girl’s light brown eyes, shaking
her head slightly.
“Who knows how Tuney will be this year,” she said rather sadly. “Her behavior’s unpredictable
whenever I go home. Sometimes she’s alright, but other times she’s awful.”

“How old is your sister, again?” Emmeline asked, frowning absentmindedly at the chess board in
front of her, trying to figure out her next move. Hestia tried to hide her smile as she saw Emmeline
fall obviously into the trap she’d set for her on the board, though her mind was half on the
conversation at hand nevertheless.

“She’s seventeen, but she turns eighteen at the end of December,” Lily said. “She’s almost finished
with college.”

“I always forget that Muggles come of age at eighteen,” Hestia said, smirking satisfiedly as she
successfully moved to checkmate Emmeline’s king, making her friend stare down at the board in
disbelief and frustration, then looked back at Lily. “Do you know what she’s going to do after she
leaves school?”

“I don’t know, she never talks to me about that sort of thing,” Lily replied. “Or anything, for that
matter. I don’t think she’s applied to university, or one of my parents would have mentioned it in a
letter.”

“That’s too bad,” Emmeline said, giving Lily a sympathetic expression even as she moved to
replace the chess pieces on the board for a rematch, bouncing back quickly from her most recent
setback and obviously still determined to beat Hestia. “I’m really sorry, Lily.”

“It’s alright,” Lily said, giving a tight smile. “It is what it is.”

“Are you looking forward to seeing your brothers, Em?” Mary asked, giving Lily one last quick
glance before changing the subject.

“I’m not sure I’ll be seeing Benjamin,” Emmeline said, carefully spacing out her pieces on the
board as she spoke. “He’s in France right now with his girlfriend. But Noah, yes, I’m looking
forward to seeing.”

“Where does he go to school?” Hestia asked curiously, doing the same with her own chess pieces
across from Emmeline as she waited for Emmeline to make the first move, ready to beat her friend
as many times in the game as it took for her to admit defeat.

“Just a local secondary school,” Emmeline replied, shrugging and looking down at the board
before her in concentration even as she spoke. “He’s constantly asking about Hogwarts, though. I
just wish he could go.”

“It must be hard for him,” Lily said, frowning slightly. “Growing up expecting to go and then
realizing he can’t.”

“It is,” Emmeline said. “But at least my dad and Benjamin are Muggles, so it’s not the whole
family except him that’s magical. And at least we’re not some uppity pureblood family that
disowns Squibs.”

“Like the Blacks,” Hestia said, rolling her eyes. “The Lestranges, Malfoys, Notts, Parkinsons…”

“Traverses, Jaxleys, Aubreys, Averys, Rosiers…” Mary continued the list as she exchanged a
knowing glance with Hestia.

“There are so many of them it’s hard to keep track,” Hestia snorted.
“Fuck them all,” Mary said, turning a page in her book, her tone still pleasant as ever. There was a
kind of subtle viciousness to the expression on her small, heart-shaped face that Hestia couldn’t
help but admire. She was always surprised when she saw this part of Mary and remembered that
she was more than just the quiet, sweet girl that most of Hogwarts knew her as. Still, there was
something thrilling about it all the same.

Lily said nothing, and a silence fell over the compartment as Emmeline finally decided on her first
move of the game and Hestia tried not to laugh at the strategy she could already see playing across
her friend’s face, which she knew would only be too easy to beat. She moved one of her pieces to
counter and they played on as the train continued on.

....

When they arrived at the platform, Mary said a quick goodbye to her roommates and grabbed her
bag, leaping down from the train and looking around for her stepfather, who she knew would be
waiting for her. She spotted him after only a moment, standing a few meters away in the crowd,
leaning against a barrier. Before Mary could raise her hand to wave to him, someone knocked into
her from behind, causing her to stumble.

When she looked around, she saw that it was Evan Rosier, a Slytherin prefect in her year.
“Mudbloods, always getting in the way,” he sneered, casting her a disgusted glance before
disappearing into the crowd. Mary took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and counted to five, then
opened them again and made her way over to Paul.

Upon seeing her approach, Paul Macdonald pushed himself off the wall and strode towards Mary,
a wide grin on his face, his blue eyes twinkling. He picked her up off the ground in a big hug,
causing her to drop her rucksack, and Mary laughed.

“Long time no see, Mare bear,” Paul greeted her affectionately, using his old nickname for her as
he set her back down.

“I missed you,” she said, grinning up at him. “Should we get going? It’s a long drive.”

“If you’ve said goodbye to all your friends, yeah,” Paul said, picking up Mary’s bag from the
ground and carrying it with one hand effortlessly.

“I have,” Mary replied, smiling. “Now I just want to get home.”

“Then let’s go,” Paul said. “I’m sure you’ll want to catch up on all the music you’ve missed on the
radio since you’ve been gone so long.”

“I’m sure I will,” Mary said, following him through the barrier back into the Muggle station then
pressing herself into his side, wrapping her arm around his waist in a side hug as they walked.
“And I’ll enjoy catching up with you.”

“I haven’t got many stories to tell, other than the ones I’ve already told you in letters,” Paul said
good-humoredly, wrapping his own arm around her shoulder and giving her a little squeeze in
return. “Unless you want to hear about the customers at the greengrocers.”

“Has Mrs. Smith had her baby yet?” Mary asked excitedly. Paul nodded.

“Yes, a little girl,” he replied. “They’ve named her Sadie.”

“And have you seen Suzy and Laura at all?” Mary asked, referring to her two best friends from
home. They exited the station and walked towards the family’s small blue car, which was waiting
for them just outside. Mary grinned as she saw it, looking a little worse for wear in the London lot,
yet very comfortingly familiar all the same.

“Oh, sure,” Paul said, unlocking the trunk and putting Mary’s bag in as she got into the front seat.
He slid in beside her. “Suzy’s been dating one of those Wilson boys—I see them in the store
sometimes. Laura talks to me at the register whenever she’s in, too, asks me how you are. She says
she’s missing you, but she’s doing well.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing them,” Mary said, smiling. She sometimes felt guilty about not
being able to write to her Muggle friends from Hogwarts, and about the fact that she thought about
them so rarely while in the confines of the castle. It was as if her magical and Muggle worlds were
separated in her mind by a sheet of glass, but now that she’d left the magical world, she was
desperate to see her best friends again.

“So, dad, what’ve you got me for Christmas?” Mary asked as they pulled out of the parking lot, her
voice honeyed as she blinked innocently up at him. Paul let out his familiar deep, loud laugh, and
shook his head.

“You know that even if I wanted to tell you that, Mare, your mother would have my guts for giving
away the surprise,” he said.

Mary laughed, too, thinking of her mother with the paper lanterns she hung around the house
during the holiday season, of the aroma of roast duck wafting from the kitchen on Christmas Day
—the traditions that were never quite the same as Suzy or Laura’s, but which both had joined in on
many a year when their parents had to work, or just to escape the noise of their own houses. A
warm feeling spread through Mary as she thought of home, and she switched on the radio, basking
in the euphoria of being able to listen to music once again. An unfamiliar song began to blare from
the speakers, and she listened to it with one ear as Paul prompted her to tell him about her life at
Hogwarts that term as they sped west towards Cornwall.

....

Far away in Wales, Christmas Eve found Remus curled onto the couch of the Lupin’s sitting room
with his parents. Their Christmas tree sat in the corner of the room by the crackling fire, blocking
one of the many built-in bookshelves in the Lupin household. At fifteen, Remus’ parents had
decided to allow him to have some eggnog with them at dinner, and he still felt a little lightheaded
as he sat talking to them, his knees drawn up to his chest and cheeks slightly flushed.

Hope was recounting a story from her childhood, laughing as she spoke about how she and her
sisters had explored the Welsh countryside. Remus felt a twinge of guilt, his stomach turning as he
tried not to think about how she hadn’t spoken to any of her family since he’d been bitten.

“Remus, are you alright?” Hope asked, stopping and giving him a concerned smile.

“I’m fine, mam,” Remus said, giving her a small smile in return.

“You haven’t spoken much about your friends since you’ve been back,” Hope said. “How are
they?”

“They’re good,” Remus responded, perhaps a bit too quickly. His father raised his eyebrows at
him, and Remus hastened to continue. “Yeah, they’re doing well. Sirius is at James’ right now for
Christmas, and Peter’s with his family.”

“That sounds nice,” Hope said. “I’m glad Sirius can spend the holidays with the Potters. His family
sounds dreadful.”

“Well, the Black family has never been good news,” Lyall said gruffly. “Walburga and Orion were
both only a few years above me at Hogwarts, and I only knew them from a distance, but their
reputation was never good.”

“Sirius has a younger brother, right?” Hope asked Remus. “I think you told me that once.”

“Yes, Regulus,” Remus said, nodding. “He’s two years younger than us, in Slytherin.”

“What’s he like?” Lyall asked, leaning forward slightly in his seat.

Remus shrugged. “I’ve never really spoken to him, just seen him around the castle,” he said. “He
looks an awful lot like Sirius, but I guess they’re very different. Sirius says he’s much more loyal
to the family than he is.”

“Poor dear,” Hope said, clucking her tongue sympathetically. “Both of those boys must have such a
hard time, in a family like that.”

“It seems like both of them have chosen their sides, Hope,” Lyall said, his voice colder than his
wife’s.

“Perhaps he has,” Hope conceded. “But you can never know what’s going on in someone’s head,
Lyall. Perhaps he’s just as scared of his family as Remus’ friend, Sirius.”

There was a lull in the conversation, as Lyall did not respond, taking a sip of his tea while Remus
looked out of the window. The sun had long since set over the rolling Welsh hills, but a bright,
half-moon hung in the sky, illuminating the outlines of the bushes at the back of their house.
Remus had only experienced one full moon since the first one which he’d spent with his friends,
and he found himself almost anticipating the next. It was absurd, he told himself, but a part of him
remembered the freedom that he’d experienced with his friends and desperately wanted it again.

“How have the full moons been?” Lyall asked as if reading Remus’ mind.

“They’ve been fine,” Remus said, startled out of his reverie, meeting his father’s eyes and trying
not to look guilty. “Normal.”

“And none of your friends or classmates suspect?” Lyall continued, looking at his son directly and
raising his eyebrows. Remus tried to keep the heat in his cheeks from rising, tried to slow his
heartbeat, not blink.

“None of them,” he lied, his expression forcibly blank.

“Good,” Lyall Lupin said, sitting back and sighing. “That’s the last thing we need with all of this
Voldemort stuff going around.”

“Well, we don’t have to talk about that now,” Hope said, laying a comforting hand on Lyall’s
shoulder. She gave Remus a smile.

“Are you tired, cariad? Want to get to bed?”

Remus shook his head. “I think I’ll read for a bit, then go up.”

“Well, I have to go do a little more work before turning in,” Lyall said, getting up and stretching.
“I’ll see you both early tomorrow morning for Christmas!”
He lay a warm hand on Remus’ shoulder as he passed him on the way to his study, and Remus
gave him a smile, grabbing his book from the side table. Hope, meanwhile, moved towards the
kitchen and began to clatter around, doing dishes and cleaning up. After only a few minutes,
however, the sounds stopped, and she came back into the sitting room and sat beside Remus,
across from the fire.

“You know you can tell me anything, cariad,” she said, moving to brush Remus’ hair out of his
eyes as he looked up at her.

“What do you mean, mam?” Remus asked, his face flushing slightly even as he tried to keep his
expression innocent. Hope gave him a knowing look.

“You know your father worries about you,” she said, evidently choosing her words carefully. “And
so do I, but I worry more for you being alone than anything else. So if you weren’t completely
honest with your father earlier, that would be alright. I wouldn’t tell him if you told me the truth.”

Remus blinked at her for a moment, feeling conflicting emotions wash over him as he marveled at
the way that she could read his face so easily and see beyond his lies. He hesitated, then conceded:
“Maybe I wasn’t completely honest. But I didn’t want to worry him, and, well…I’m scared he’d
pull me out of school if someone found out.”

Hope sighed. “Your father is a complicated man, Remus,” she admitted. “And he has his faults.
Perhaps that would be his first instinct, but I would never let that happen, do you hear me? You
deserve the same education as all of your classmates, and I will fight tooth and nail for you to get
that.”

Remus nodded and gave her a small smile.

“So your friends, they know?” Hope asked after a moment when it became clear that Remus wasn’t
going to speak.

Remus hesitated. “Yes, they know,” he admitted, after a moment. “James, Sirius, and Peter figured
it out in second year.”

Hope nodded. “They’re clever boys.”

“And Lily, my prefect friend,” Remus said, keen to tell her more, now that he felt able to. “She told
me recently that she figured it out in first year.”

“She must be very observant,” Hope said, smiling. She met his wide, anxious eyes, and laid a soft
hand on his cheek. “I’m not worried, Remus. I trust you.”

Remus hesitated again. He knew he shouldn’t tell her the rest. For one, she wouldn’t understand,
and if nothing else had made her worry, he knew that the fact that his friends were now spending
full moons with him as animals would. He’d have to keep that part of the secret to himself.

“I know that having them helps you,” Hope said, breaking the silence. She was gazing at him
again with the same contemplative look as before. “That was always the biggest reason why I
convinced Lyall to let you go to Hogwarts. It’s not enough for you to be safe, you have to be
happy, as well. I know that your friends make your life better, and that’s all I need to know because
I love you.”

Remus met her eyes, smiled, then pulled her into a hug, inhaling her light, comforting scent and
smiling into her hair. This was why he needed her: he knew that she’d always be there for him, no
matter how much or little he told her. Perhaps one day, Remus thought, he’d tell her everything.
For now, though, some secrets were to be kept just for him and the rest of the Marauders.

....

On Christmas morning, James woke Sirius at the crack of dawn by jumping on his bed. Sirius
rolled over and groaned, trying to push James off, but James just laughed and pulled the covers off
him. Sirius sat up, rubbing his eyes and glaring at him. “What time is it?”

“Who cares? It’s Christmas morning,” James said, grinning. Sirius rolled his eyes and tried to grab
the covers back.

“What do I care?” Sirius asked grouchily. “Too early.”

“You care because Christmas is special here, remember?” James said, a note of hurt in his voice
now. “Come on, mate, you’ve spent three Christmases with us. Still, every Christmas morning
you’re a grump. Remember how much fun it always is?”

Sirius closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to push away the memory of the dream that
James had woken him up from. He blinked, and the flash of red light behind his eyelids
disappeared. Finally, he looked up at James, who was wearing a hopeful expression on his face.
Shaking his head slightly to clear it, Sirius stood up, stumbling slightly as he did so.

Of course he remembered that Christmas was special at the Potters’, that was why Christmas Eve
was the only night that Sirius made a conscious effort not to lock his door, as a big part of him
wanted James to come in and rouse him like this every year. Still, despite it all, the nightmare
never went away.

“Yeah, I know, mate,” he said. “I’ll be down in five minutes, okay?”

“Take your time,” James said, smiling again and leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

Sirius walked over to the dresser and grabbed a pair of trousers and a sweater at random and began
to dress. It was only when he pulled the sweater over his head that Sirius realized that it wasn’t his
—it was Remus’. It fit closer to his body than he was used to, as Remus was slimmer than him, and
smelled slightly of bergamot, the scent that Remus always carried around. Sirius must have
accidentally thrown it into his bag when packing. He thought for a moment, then shrugged. There
was no reason not to wear it now that he had it on: it was comfortable, warm, and Remus’ familiar
scent felt reassuring.

Sirius splashed cold water on his face in the loo, looking up into the mirror and finding his own
grey eyes staring back at him. He thought of Regulus, and his insides clenched. He hoped Regulus
didn’t hate him too much, trapped in that old, dusty house with his parents, alone. Maybe Sirius
should write to him.

Sirius left the bathroom and headed down the stairs to meet the Potters, who were all waiting for
him in the sitting room. He smiled when he saw them, and James looked around, grinning. “Good,
we waited for you!”

Sirius grinned as he bounded down the stairs. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” Euphemia Potter said, handing him a mug of hot tea. “You’re family. What
else would we do?”

Sirius blinked at her dumbly for a moment then accepted the tea, giving her a grateful smile.
“Okay, well, you can start opening presents now, Jamie-boy. I’m here.”
After they opened their presents and had Christmas lunch, Dorcas and Marlene arrived with their
families, and as the adults stayed in the sitting room to talk, the four of them, accompanied by
Marlene’s ten-year-old brother, Tyler, went outside to have a snowball fight. A fresh sheet of snow
had fallen the night before, and they first used it to create makeshift snow forts, then took turns
lobbing snowballs at one another from behind them.

Unfortunately, they were forced to stop when Imogen, Marlene’s mother, admonished her after she
hit Tyler full in the face with a large snowball which Sirius was sure she’d somehow magicked to
reach its target. They trooped inside, cheeks red and eyes bright, cold to the bone but exhilarated.

“Who wants hot chocolate?” Dorcas asked, unwrapping her scarf from around her neck and smiling
around at them. They all chorused their excitement about this proposal, and Marlene nudged
Dorcas playfully in the ribs before getting out a pot from the kitchen and putting it on the stove.

“Okay, but I’m making it,” she said teasingly. Dorcas laughed.

“Fine by me,” she said, her dark eyes twinkling as she watched her best friend.

“I’m going to go to the loo,” Sirius excused himself quickly, leaving the rest of them to follow
Marlene into the Potters’ kitchen as he slipped upstairs. Instead of going into the bathroom,
however, he ducked quickly into his room and grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill. Sirius sat
at his desk, thought for a moment, then began to scribble a letter to his brother. He couldn’t bear
the thought that Regulus would think that he’d forgotten him on Christmas, even if gift-giving
wasn’t customary for the Black family.

The letter was short, but Sirius couldn’t think of much to say, so he rolled it up and nudged Caspian
awake from where he’d been resting on top of the wardrobe. The owl consented to have the scroll
tied to his leg and promptly flew out the window. Sirius watched him disappear into the dark sky,
then went to rejoin the others downstairs.

....

As the sun set and the sky darkened into night outside her sitting room in Cokeworth, Lily sat up
reading one of the new books she’d received for Christmas. She did this every year, sitting on the
window seat at the front of the house, glancing out every so often to see the people passing by or
just to look up at the moon and the few stars she could see in the sky.

Minutes and hours passed as Lily sat reading, only stopping once in a while to drink some water,
say goodnight to her parents as they headed upstairs, or tiptoe over to the kitchen to grab a painted
sugar cookie. Time seemed to be at a standstill as she absorbed herself in her book, and the only
thing that was able to truly break her out of her reverie was the sight of someone approaching the
window. Lily started as she watched the dark figure draw closer, but when he climbed the stairs to
the porch and the light went on, she saw that it was only Severus.

He gave her a small wave, gesturing for her to come out to talk to him, so she put her book down to
head outside, grabbing her coat and keys and putting on her boots before opening the door. Severus
was standing out in the snow, shivering slightly, several feet away from the doorstep, and looked
up at her when she emerged, shutting the door carefully behind her so that Callie wouldn’t make a
break for it.

“Hey Sev,” Lily said cautiously. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much,” he replied, shrugging. “Just wondered if you wanted to take a walk.”
“It’s almost ten p.m.,” Lily said, furrowing her brow. He shrugged, so she sighed and relented,
locking the door and stuffing her keys into her pocket.

They walked in silence in the middle of the empty, snowy streets for a few minutes. It was almost
pitch black, but they followed the familiar path toward the river, though neither of them mentioned
where they were heading.

“So,” Lily broke the silence. “How was your Christmas?”

“It was shit,” Severus replied promptly. “Yours?”

“Passable,” Lily replied, kicking a pile of snow in her path. “Petunia didn’t talk to me, but that
wasn’t unexpected.”

Severus snorted. “My mum and dad screamed their way through most of the day.”

“I’m sorry,” Lily said, glancing towards him sympathetically, though she didn’t move closer,
keeping a few feet of distance between them as they walked on.

“That’s why I came to see you,” Severus said, looking sideways at her with an unfamiliar glint in
his eyes. “I just needed to...escape for a bit.”

“That makes sense,” Lily said, giving him a small, cautious smile. “I’m always here if you need
me.”

“I know,” Severus said. “You always have been. Look...I know that I haven’t been the best to you
recently. This year has been tough, and sometimes I’ve taken it out on you. I’m sorry.”

There was a pause as Lily tried to figure out how to reply, the snow crunching under their boots
and the distant sounds of caroling the only things to break the silence. Her mind kept flickering
back to how they’d left things the day that the holidays had started, when he’d snapped at her
during the carriage ride down to the train, telling her that he wanted to sit with his housemates for
once and leaving her to find the other Gryffindor girls like a dog with her tail between her legs.

“I know it’s been hard,” Lily said slowly. “It’s been hard for me, too.”

“I’m not trying to make an excuse,” Severus amended hastily. “I just need you to know that I’m
going to try harder from now on.”

“I appreciate that,” Lily said, still wary. “I just don’t really know where your head has been at
recently.”

“We’ll spend more time together next term,” Severus assured her, his gaze earnest, though still not
answering her unspoken question. “I promise.”

“Okay, Sev,” Lily said, sighing while giving him another cautious, sideways glance. There was
something in his look that Lily didn’t like. It felt like an intrusion, as if he was crossing some
invisible barrier between them, looking at her in the way that he was now. She wanted to move
away, but she kept walking beside him, the two of them falling into silence again as they ambled
alongside the muddy, frozen riverbank.

Half an hour later, Severus left Lily back at her doorstep, and she turned to lock the door as quietly
as she could, very conscious of the loud click in the quiet house. She felt strangely exhausted by
the walk, as if it’d sapped the last of her mental energy for the day.
“Where have you been?” a voice sounded behind her, startling her. Lily whipped around, her hand
to her chest, and she took in Petunia, sitting on the stairs, her arms wrapped around her knees.

“Tuney!” Lily exclaimed in a stage whisper. “You scared me.”

“You’re the one coming in at ten-thirty,” Petunia pointed out coldly.

“I was out walking with Severus,” Lily said, unbuttoning her coat and hanging it up on the rack by
the door. Petunia snorted softly.

“I should’ve known.”

“Can you stop?” Lily snapped, feeling too tired to play nice at the moment. Petunia looked slightly
taken aback at her tone.

“Look...just stop, please,” Lily said, allowing her vulnerability to show in her voice alongside her
frustration. “I’m tired of coming home and having you be openly hostile to me. Ignoring me is one
thing, but waiting up for me to come back from my walk just so you can sneer at me and my friend
is another.”

There was a pause where Lily glared at her older sister, waiting for her response, and Petunia just
looked back at her, her expression unreadable.

“I didn’t stay up because I wanted to be rude to you when you came back,” Petunia said quietly
after a long moment, almost sounding hurt. “I waited because I noticed you were gone and I was
worried about you.”

“Oh,” Lily said quietly, deflating slightly. “Well, I’m fine.”

She made to walk past her sister up the stairs, but Petunia didn’t move out of her way. “Lily, wait,”
she said, taking her sister’s wrist lightly in her bony hand. “Can we talk for a moment?”

Lily looked down, even more startled. Petunia had iced her out for the last few days since she’d
been home—why would she want to talk now? Nevertheless, she sat down next to her sister on the
stairs and leaned against the railing, wrapping her arms around her knees and looking over at
Petunia expectantly.

“I don’t trust that Snape boy,” Petunia started. “I don’t like that you’re going walking with him this
late.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Tuney, Severus is my friend. I’m safe with him.”

“Are you sure about that?” Petunia asked. She wasn’t sneering or disdainful for once, rather, her
voice sounded earnest, and her gaze searched Lily’s face. “Look, you’re almost sixteen, Lily.
You’re...well, you’re beautiful. And maybe you haven’t had as much experience with this in your
little world, but I live here year-round. Walking around cities at night is dangerous, and the way
that men look at girls and women our age...you should be cautious.”

“I don’t know what this has to do with Severus,” Lily said, flushing slightly. Petunia rolled her eyes
now, looking disdainful again.

“Don’t tell me you’re that oblivious,” she said, the bite coming back into her voice. “I barely
interact with him, but I see how he looks at you. You may think you’re just friends, but trust me,
that’s not all he wants from you.”
Lily stared at her sister, thinking of the look she’d spotted in Severus’ eyes that very evening.
“Even if that were true—and I’m not saying it is,” she started defensively. “You make it sound
bad. Even if...well, that wouldn’t mean that I’m not safe around him.”

Petunia snorted. “No girl is ever safe around a boy who wants her,” she said disdainfully. “And
he’s never been good news.”

“You’re just judging him because he’s poor,” Lily snapped.

“Maybe,” Petunia conceded. “That doesn’t mean I’m not right.”

A stiff silence settled between them, as it was clear that Petunia had said what she’d wanted to, but
eventually, it was Lily who broke it, as a question had been nagging at her ever since the train ride
home from Hogwarts.

“What are you planning on doing after you graduate college, Tuney?”

“I’m moving out,” Petunia answered promptly, as if she’d spent a good deal of time already
thinking about and planning this answer. Lily tried not to think about how long she’d been kept in
the dark about this plan. “Going to London, probably. I’ll find a secretary or clerical job, perhaps. I
want to support myself for a while.”

“That sounds nice,” Lily said feebly, trying to suppress the stab of pain she felt as she imagined
coming home to their house over the summer and her sister being absent from it.

“Well, it isn’t as exciting as your magical world,” Petunia said stiffly. “But it’ll do.”

Lily closed the door to her room five minutes later, finally falling into her bed, exhausted, around
eleven. As she burrowed into her covers, she remembered that she’d left her copy of Tuck
Everlasting on the window seat. She decided to leave it there for the night, not wanting to leave
the security of her comforter. She’d retrieve and finish the book the next day.

....

On the morning of Boxing Day, Regulus sat at the Slytherin table for breakfast. The hall was
practically empty, as most people had gone home for Christmas, and the Slytherin table was
especially sparse. Still, Regulus ignored the few people that remained as he sat and ate his porridge
in silence.

He’d decided to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas that year, citing the need to study to his parents.
The real reason he didn’t want to go home, however, was that he didn’t feel up to returning to the
cold, empty house, especially knowing that Sirius would be at his friend James’ place with his
family, no doubt being doted over. Of course, staying in the empty castle wasn’t much better, but it
was lonely in a more bearable way, without the angry, muttering portraits, elf heads, or his parents.

As he sat eating, a familiar barn owl fluttered down beside him, shaking off droplets of water that
must have been melted snow. Regulus looked up at it in surprise, recognizing it as Caspian—
Sirius’ owl. He wondered why on earth Sirius would be writing him and then pondered how lucky
it was that Caspian had known where to find him. If the owl had turned up at Grimmauld Place,
Walburga might have tried to hurt him to lash out at Sirius from afar.

Caspian held out his leg, and Regulus detached the scroll and unrolled it, reading the quick note in
Sirius’ hand.

Hey Reg,
 I hope your Christmas has been bearable at home, and you’re doing alright. I know it’s hard to sit
through those dinners sometimes, but you’re better at that than me, anyway. Just wanted to wish
you a happy Christmas and let you know I’m thinking of you.

Sirius

Regulus sighed and crumpled the parchment up. He hadn’t told his brother that he wasn’t spending
Christmas with the family that year. Partly, he told himself, it was because he rarely talked to his
brother at Hogwarts, but Regulus knew most of the reason was that he couldn’t bear to admit to his
older brother that he didn’t want to spend time with their family any more than Sirius did. It’d be
like admitting that Sirius had been right all along, and Regulus didn’t think his pride could handle
that.

Sirius had never understood that Regulus didn’t go along with his family’s expectations out of
love, or real allegiance. It was duty that kept Regulus there, a duty that his older brother had
abandoned, and therefore which Regulus had to take upon his own shoulders. It’s what family does,
he told himself firmly. Sirius didn’t see that, but Regulus did.

Despite his duty, however, Regulus hadn’t been able to face Christmas at home, just as Sirius
hadn’t been able to past his own second year at Hogwarts. Regulus had hoped that if he wasn’t
home, he wouldn’t wake up that Christmas morning from the same nightmare about his brother
being tortured, but unfortunately, that year he’d woken in a cold sweat just like the previous three,
a flash of red light behind his eyes and his nerves on edge.

He drew out his wand and set fire to the crumpled letter from his brother, watching it curl and
leave only ash behind on the table, then turned back to his cold porridge, trying to choke it down
despite the bile rising in his throat.

Chapter End Notes

I hope everyone had a good holiday season. I know that the holidays can be loaded for
many people, just like all of my characters in this chapter, and if you had or are having
a hard time because of that, know that I’m with you. We’ll all get through this. I’ll see
you in the New Year!

12/25/22: I believe that this chapter is legitimately cursed. I published this on 12/29/20
and I've had to spend Christmas 2021 and Christmas 2022 without my family due to
unforeseen disasters that happened the day before. In hindsight maybe I should've had
fewer terrible things happen to my characters on Christmas. I sowwy :(
 1976: Unforgivable, Part 1
Chapter Notes

cw: homophobia, use of the word queer as a slur

If the Gryffindors had thought that their first term of fifth year had been difficult, they were
completely caught off guard by the steep increase in work when they returned from the holidays.
As the professors constantly reminded them, their O.W.L.s were getting ever closer, and while
Sirius liked to say that he could pass them blindfolded with no preparation, the truth was that they
were all studying harder than they ever had.

Still, the Marauders made time for their other pursuits, too. During the first few months of their
second term, Sirius and James had managed to get almost a dozen detentions each, something
Remus stated they both took an indecent amount of pride in. Peter rarely joined them, due to his
penchant for scarpering whenever the slightest hint of trouble crossed their path, and Remus
excused himself from physical involvement in any of their pranks, being a prefect, though he did
consent to help plan them when he was in the mood.

Apart from pranks, Sirius and James had also begun to get into more trouble for hexing and
dueling other students in the corridors. Of course, they’d done this infrequently before, but with the
rising presence of Voldemort in the wizarding world, there had also been an increase in offensive
slurs being tossed around at Hogwarts, and James and Sirius were having none of it. Remus tried to
stay out of it, turning a blind eye to his friends’ actions when he could, but in the presence of a
professor—or Lily—he was forced to give them detention.

“Come on, Moony,” Sirius had whined after Remus had given both James and Sirius double
detention for hexing Bertram Aubrey, a Ravenclaw in their year. “He called Sarah a you-know-
what yesterday!”

“I know that,” Remus replied, sighing. “I agree he fucking deserved it, but you hexed him in the
middle of a corridor with tons of people around! I couldn’t not give you detention. Anyway, do you
really think doubling the size of his head is going to stop him from calling people that word?”

“It made me feel better,” Sirius said, shrugging nonchalantly. Remus only shook his head in
exasperation and went back to studying.

While they weren’t studying or serving detentions, the Marauders spent most of their time planning
their full-moon adventures. While the first time they’d gone out together they traversed the
grounds at random, the four had begun to branch out since, exiting the safety of the school
boundaries and exploring further. It was no longer random; they planned out their routes now, and
even Remus enjoyed their adventures immensely.

One full moon in February, Remus had done something surprising. The night before, while getting
ready to go to bed, he’d suddenly looked up at the rest of the boys and said: “Before the
transformation tomorrow, I don’t want to be alone.”

James, Sirius, and Peter had looked around at each other, startled. Remus had been explicit and
firm up until that point about not wanting them to see him transform, and they had no idea what
could’ve changed his mind. They took it in their stride, however.

“Okay,” James said. “You want us to come earlier and be with you, then?”

“If you want,” Remus said. He looked confident, Sirius thought, standing tall, but Sirius could see
the façade wavering before his eyes, though he wasn’t sure if James or Peter would be able to.
Remus was clearly more nervous than he was letting on, and had likely spent a long time thinking
about this decision. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Of course we want to,” Sirius said, stepping forward. “Should we go up under the invisibility
cloak after Pomfrey’s left?”

“Yeah,” Remus replied, fingers worrying the hem of his sweater. “You can follow me after about
twenty minutes.”

Therefore, the next day, all three boys crowded under James’ cloak and headed down to the
Whomping Willow at sunset. When they arrived at the shack, Remus was pacing, his nerves
clearly on edge, as they always were before transformations. Together, they mounted the stairs to
the second-floor room they always retired to after the transformation and waited. Remus paced,
and Sirius watched him, though he tried to be subtle so that it wouldn’t make his friend
uncomfortable. James tried to keep the conversation going, clearly hoping to distract their friend,
and Remus would occasionally respond or force a smile, but soon enough the room fell into
silence.

Remus continued to pace as they waited, his face flushed, teeth gritted slightly, and movements
stiff. The grimace on his face became more pronounced as the room grew darker, his pain growing
more obvious as the moon rose higher in the sky. Sirius was used to people who expressed their
pain in ways more obvious than Remus, who was extremely good at hiding it, but Sirius now
realized that Remus had likely been in pain long before it’d showed on his face. Perhaps, Sirius
thought, it was like with him and the Cruciatus Curse. It didn’t hurt less, but he’d gotten better at
dealing with the pain, over the years, and at hiding it.

Witnessing Remus’ transformation that night was nothing short of unbearable. Sirius watched it
through the eyes of his Animagus form, as Remus had insisted that they must all change into
animals as soon as his transformation started, for safety’s sake. Sirius had known before then, of
course, what the werewolf transformation involved. He’d learned about it through his research, and
Remus had told them all in second year, a bitter note to his voice: I break every bone in my body
when I turn into a wolf. So yes, they’re quite agonizing. Still, faced with it in front of him, Sirius
knew that he’d only been hearing half of it for years.

When they awoke the next morning, none of the three boys said anything out of the ordinary to
Remus. They smiled and joked with each other as they bade Remus goodbye, heading down to the
castle, but when they climbed out of the tunnel in the roots of the Whomping Willow, James had
run a hand through his hair, saying, in a subdued voice: “Fucking hell. I never imagined…”

“Neither had I,” Sirius agreed, his voice quiet, still thinking of the horror of the transformation he’d
witnessed. “I guess we always knew Moony was holding back a lot.”

“Poor Moony,” Peter said softly.

They never spoke of it again, and Sirius tried to act as normally around Remus as possible. If he
knew anything, he knew that Remus wouldn’t want to be pitied, and Sirius truly didn’t pity him. If
anything, it made his admiration for Remus only grow, though Sirius thought that that was perhaps
an even more twisted reaction than pity.
They didn’t have to talk about it when the next full moon rolled around. Once again, the three boys
followed Remus into the Whomping Willow after Madam Pomfrey left, kept him company until
the moon rose, then they transformed together. There was a feeling of unity within the group, the
solace of holding an even deeper secret than they’d previously kept. However, Sirius realized, as
he’d never done before, how different it would always be for Remus than for the rest. The
difference between a forced transformation full of pain and one which had been chosen, and which
was completely painless, was huge, perhaps insurmountable.

They worked their way through the term, studying, serving detentions, and being together on full
moons, but by April, Sirius began to feel a familiar restlessness take him over. In only a few
months, he’d have to go home again. Not to the home which he’d happily occupied with the
Potters, but the home that he’d grown up in, which still haunted him in the background whenever
he was unable to push thoughts of it away.

That year, the feeling started earlier than it usually did. Sirius thought it might have to do with the
intense feeling of freedom he enjoyed every full moon, which just made him dread the suffocation
of Grimmauld Place even more. Sirius became moodier, his temper more on the surface than usual.
His friends took it in stride, though Marlene sometimes teased him for what she called his “fits of
the sullens.” He tried to control his temper and avoid taking it out on his friends, which resulted in
him being put in more detentions than ever, as hexing pureblood elitists had become an almost
euphoric pastime of his.

Sirius thought that it was an acceptable outlet, however, and his friends said little about it. They
tried to distract him, sure, but at the end of the day, they were all helpless against what Sirius was
struggling with at the moment, just as he was. Unfortunately, Sirius’ anger, usually kept safely
within so that it hurt him the most out of anyone, was soon to be set loose in a manner far more
destructive than any of them could’ve foreseen.

It happened on a Wednesday afternoon in mid-April. The full moon was that night, and Sirius had
spent the afternoon studying, waiting, his skin itching with restlessness and his nerves on edge.
The previous day, both James and Peter had asked Remus if it was alright if they arrived in the
Shrieking Shack later, as they were both behind on their schoolwork. Remus had agreed, and Sirius
had assured him that he’d still join him to wait for the transformation.

Sirius now lay on his four-poster bed, looking up at the hangings and twirling his wand between
his fingers absentmindedly. Remus had already left to meet Madam Pomfrey, and in a few minutes,
Sirius would rise and go to join him. He wouldn’t have the invisibility cloak this time—James and
Peter would need it to enter the passageway later—so he’d have to be careful not to be seen as he
approached the Whomping Willow.

Sirius got up, running his hands through his hair as he did so and glancing around at the empty
dormitory. Looking in the mirror at the door of his open cabinet, he registered that he was still in
his uniform, and decided to change before joining Remus. Once he did so, pulling a sweater over
his head for good measure, though it wasn’t very cold out at this time of year, Sirius checked his
watch and decided to head down to the grounds.

The castle was quiet. Because it was a weekday, most people were studying, in either the library or
their common rooms. Sirius reached the entrance hall without event, but when he made his way
outside, taking the long way around the greenhouses, Sirius heard a noise behind him and stopped,
listening. Now that he was no longer walking, he could hear the sounds of rustling robes more
clearly, and it only took a second for him to guess who was tailing him.

Sirius paused for a moment, trying to think of what to do. Obviously, he couldn’t allow Snape to
follow him to the willow, but how could he prevent him from doing so? He pulled out his wand
slowly, careful to do it so that the other boy wouldn’t see. Then, Sirius turned sharply, brandishing
his wand at the wall behind which he knew Snape was hiding, disarming him at throwing him
back against it. Sirius leapt around the corner, raising his wand and pointing it at the greasy-haired
boy’s throat, effectively pinning him to the wall.

“Snivellus,” he said triumphantly, smirking at the other boy. Snape was slightly shorter than
Sirius, and he glared at his captor, his cheeks flushed with the embarrassment of being caught
sneaking around behind Sirius.

“Why are you following me?” Sirius demanded, jabbing his wand into the other boy’s throat
threateningly. Snape glared at him.

“I wasn’t following you,” he said, speaking through gritted teeth. Sirius snorted.

“Nice try,” he retorted. “You’re not that subtle. I’ve heard you flapping after me ever since I
passed the entrance hall.”

“Your problem, Black, is that you think the whole world revolves around you,” Snape spat back,
hatred in his gaze. “There is no earthly reason I would ever want to follow you. On the contrary, I
try to be as far away from you as I can at all times, since I detest you.”

“I can say the same for you, Snivellus, but that still doesn’t explain the incontrovertible fact that I
know you were following me.”

There was a pause, where Snape seemed to struggle with how to respond. Finally, he spat at Sirius:
“Let me go.”

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere until you admit to me why you’re here, arseface,” Sirius retorted,
a cruel smile unfurling on his lips.

“Fuck you,” Snape responded. “You’re just blood traitor scum, you and the rest of your little gang,
running around the grounds protecting that half-breed you call your mate. Creatures like him
should be put down.”

Snape inhaled sharply as Sirius pressed his wand into his neck with more force, Sirius’ fingers
clenched around his wand so hard that his knuckles had turned white.

“Say that again,” Sirius challenged him in a low, dangerous voice, his face livid with anger. A
smirk spread across Snape’s face, clearly satisfied by the fact that even if he couldn’t curse the
other boy at the moment, he could still produce this reaction in Sirius by taunting him.

“What, don’t like hearing someone say that about your boyfriend?” Snape sneered. “I wonder—do
your parents know that you’re a fucking queer with a hard-on for a dirty mutt?”

Sirius finally lowered his wand, staring at Snape with a mixture of fury and confusion and taking a
step back. “You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” he said, but his voice wavered
ever so slightly as he said it, his earlier confidence gone.

Snape didn’t hesitate to press his advantage, now that he’d been released. He stepped away from
the wall, malicious delight all over his face.

“Your brother says you’re already only one wrong step away from being disowned, anyway,” he
sneered at Sirius. “I’d guess that that little bit of information would tip the scales, don’t you
think?”
“What the fuck did you say about my brother?” Sirius demanded, raising his wand again but not
approaching Snape. He felt almost wary of the other boy now, shock and confusion still coursing
through him. He didn’t know how to address the other part of Snape’s taunt, so he didn’t say
anything about it. Snape’s smirk flickered slightly, as if remembering that he wasn’t, after all, the
one with the wand in this situation. Still, he pressed what little advantage he had.

“Regulus, unlike you, is loyal to his pureblood principles,” Snape said, his lip curling. “He’s also
smart enough to know a lost cause when he sees one. That much is clear, given the things he says
about you.”

Sirius, forgetting his earlier hesitation, rushed at Snape again, shoving him back against the wall
and pinning him there once more, his expression wild. “What the fuck has he been saying?” he
shouted. Snape has to be making this up, Sirius thought desperately. Regulus is my brother. He
wouldn’t say things to the other Slytherins about me. He wouldn’t—

“That you’re a blood traitor, and you’ve always been a disappointment to your family,” Snape’s
words laid into Sirius, cruel and relentless. “He says he’s ashamed to have you as a brother, that
he’ll be glad when you’re finally disowned and he doesn’t have to speak to you anymore. The
sooner you’re gone, the better for everyone. I can’t say I blame him. It’s lucky for your family that
you’re not its only heir.”

Regulus’ words, quoted back to him in Snape’s sneering voice, were like a blow to Sirius’ chest,
and he flinched at the impact. Still, it was Snape who was standing in front of him, and it was
Snape towards whom Sirius’ hatred was directed. It burned like a flame inside of him, blackening
his insides as he stared at the sneering boy’s face, which looked cruel and almost inhuman in the
twilight shadows. The expression flickered slightly as Snape took in Sirius’ renewed rage, as if
realizing that he’d perhaps miscalculated.

“You have no fucking idea,” Sirius snarled at Snape. “No fucking idea what it’s like, you son of a
bitch. You come to Hogwarts, free to be anything, and you chose to be this. You chose to get into
dark magic and spout this blood purity crap that you weren’t even raised with. And for what? Just
because you want to be part of your little fascist club? You’re pathetic.”

“You’re the pathetic one, Black,” Snape spat back, anger clearly rising up in him to meet Sirius’.
“Not even your own family can stand the sight of you. Your own brother can’t wait to be rid of
you. Soon, all your blood traitor friends will realize you’re as worthless as your dear old mother has
always known you are.”

Something truly snapped in Sirius at the mention of Walburga Black. A barrier broke down
between him and the flood of rage that he’d barely managed to keep contained for the last few
weeks. Perhaps it was the same familial madness that his mother had, but at that moment, his
vision turned red, and nothing mattered in the world other than hurting Snape as much as humanly
possible. There was a moment of silence, then Sirius spoke again, and his voice was far softer than
before, silky smooth and dangerous.

“You know, Snivellus, if you really want proof for your little theory about Remus,” Sirius said, his
lips curling into a cruel smirk. “All you have to do is follow him.”

Snape scoffed. “Follow him? To be torn apart by the Whomping Willow, you mean? You think
I’m stupid, Black?”

“I’m counting on it, actually,” Sirius said, his malicious grin widening so that it looked more like a
leer. “All you have to do to get in after him is to poke the big knot at the bottom of the tree with a
long stick, and the tree will freeze. Then, you can go into the tunnel after him, and you’ll have all
the proof you need. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Snape stared at him for a long moment, his eyes narrowed as Sirius stepped back, releasing him
from the wall again. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked finally. Sirius raised an eyebrow at
him mockingly.

“Why do you care? Don’t you want to go off on your little Nancy Drew mission already?” he
sneered at the other boy, matching his earlier taunting expression precisely. Snape narrowed his
eyes suspiciously at him then turned without a word, moving out towards the grounds again.
Sirius’ smirk fell, and his face adopted a hard, deadly expression as he turned back to the castle,
walking fast in the opposite direction as Snape.

Sirius’ cold expression didn’t falter until he entered the Gryffindor common room, ten minutes
later. As he entered, he spotted James and Peter, just standing up from their spot in the corner.
When James saw Sirius, his brow furrowed, and he hurried over to him, Peter on his heels.

“What’s going on? I thought you were going early to keep Moony company until the moon
peaked,” James questioned Sirius in a low, worried voice.

“I was, but I hit a little snag,” Sirius replied, his voice emotionless. “Don’t worry, though. I took
care of it.”

“What are you talking about?” James demanded, looking alarmed at the strange note in Sirius’
voice, and the flat, detached expression on his face.

“Snivellus lurking around, as usual,” Sirius said, a note of satisfaction in his voice now as he
looked up at James. His pupils were dilated, and his gaze was steely with anger. “I decided to teach
him a lesson.”

“Teach him a—Sirius, what did you do?!” James demanded, his voice rising seemingly despite
himself, a note of panic in it. Sirius just looked up at him, saying nothing, but his silence was
enough to confirm James’ worst suspicions.

“You fucking—” James broke off, as if unable to find a strong enough word for what Sirius was at
that moment.

He turned away, trying to collect himself, but it didn’t seem to work, for as he turned back, he
swung his fist towards Sirius, hitting him squarely in the jaw, causing the shorter boy to stumble.
By this time, the whole common room was staring at the exchange, and a collective gasp rose up
from the observers. None of them had ever seen James Potter truly lose his temper before,
especially not with his own best friend. Sirius clutched at the place where James had punched him,
staring at James. The blow had broken him out of his haze of fury like a bucket of cold water over
his head, leaving him with nothing but blank shock.

James shook his head in disgust as he stared at Sirius, then turned to Peter. “I’m going to fix this,”
he said under his breath. “Stay here and make sure he doesn’t fuck anything else up until I get
back.”

Without a backward glance at Sirius, he turned and hurried out of the portrait hole, and before the
Fat Lady even swung shut, the whole common room could hear his footsteps quicken as he broke
into a run. The common room filled with excited whispers, and Sirius just stood there, staring at
the entrance without truly seeing it, his hand still on his bruised jaw.

Suddenly, he thought of Remus, alone in the shack, no doubt wondering why Sirius hadn’t come,
and only then did the magnitude of what he’d done hit him.

....

James ran all the way to the willow, anger burning in his veins alongside his panic, both driving
him forward. He ignored the few people he met in the corridors, but he was grateful nonetheless
that there was no one out on the grounds that evening. Though he was in a hurry, caution was still
essential.

The sky was dark when he exited the oak front doors of the castle, and James could see the full
moon high in the sky already, only partially obscured by a cloud. He sped up, ignoring the ache
that’d begun to creep into his legs. There was no one outside the willow, which meant that Snape
must’ve already gone in. Skidding to a stop just out of the reach of the swinging branches, James
looked around frantically for a branch to use to freeze the tree. His eyes lighted on one lying
innocently by the knot. This must have been what Snape had used.

James swore under his breath. Sirius really had told Snape everything. “Traitorous son of a bitch,”
he muttered, then took a deep breath and pushed his best friend from his mind. He’d deal with
Sirius later.

James pulled out his wand and levitated the branch to press the knot on the tree, causing the tree to
freeze instantly. He didn’t waste a second before he dashed into the tunnel, stuffing his wand back
into his trouser pocket as he did so. The tunnel had a low ceiling, and James tried to run as fast as
he could, bent double. As he approached the shack, he began to hear the sounds of quick footsteps
ahead of him.

“Snape!” he shouted. The footsteps paused, then began to hurry faster towards their destination.
James almost screamed in exasperation. “Snape, you fucking idiot, stop!” he shouted again. “You
don’t know what you’re walking into!”

“Fuck off, Potter,” came the sneering voice, faintly ahead. James ran faster. He was gaining on the
Slytherin boy, but Snape was still ahead of him, and in only a minute, he’d be in the shack, where
Remus might already be fully transformed.

Ahead, the footsteps stopped. Snape had reached his destination.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” James muttered under his breath as he ran. He burst out into the entrance of the
Shrieking Shack, almost knocking Snape over. Snape was staring up at the landing of the second
floor, his eyes wide and his whole body frozen in place. James followed his gaze and saw a pair of
glowing, amber eyes staring back at them.

“Move!” James yelled at Snape, grabbing his arm and pushing him back towards the tunnel. Snape
stumbled, useless, and James shoved him further. “Run, you idiot, run!” he shouted, propelling him
forward.

Finding his feet again, Snape pelted down the tunnel, James following him. Snape wasn’t as fast as
James, but James forced himself not to overtake him, glancing back frantically as he ran. From
behind them, a howl rang through the shack, the sound following them into the tunnel. Snape
looked ready to freeze in terror again, but James pushed him forward.

“Just keep fucking going,” he snapped, pulling out his wand again. He could hear Remus, hear the
paws beginning to beat towards them on the packed dirt of the tunnel floor.

James knew that he was no safer than Snape was; he’d known this from the moment that he’d
entered the tunnel after Snape. He couldn’t transform, not with Snape there. One of their secrets
was already revealed, and he had to protect the other. At that moment, he cursed Snape and cursed
Sirius along with him. Sirius, who’d betrayed them all by telling Snape how to get into the willow,
and Snape, for being stupid enough to try to follow a werewolf on his own.

The sounds of the large paws drew closer, and James swore again, wishing that Snape would run
faster. Looking behind him, he could see Remus’ glowing eyes, and frantically, James aimed his
wand over his shoulder.

“Impedimenta!” he cried out. He had no way of knowing if the spell would work on a werewolf,
but the jet of turquoise light that issued from his wand did indeed connect with Remus’ furry form,
and he was frozen in place. James knew it would only last a few moments, however.

They kept running. James didn’t know how long they ran for, only that the journey was a blur of
panting breaths, terror, and flashing lights as he shot every spell he could think of back at Remus,
trying to slow him down. Finally, the tunnel tilted upwards, and they ran out onto the grass. James
pointed at the tunnel entrance with his wand and shouted, “Protego!” Remus, directly behind
them, snarled as he ran into the barrier over the mouth of the tunnel. He pushed against it several
more times, but like a solid wall, it was unyielding, strong with the force of James’ determination.

After a few moments, Remus gave up and turned, his tail between his legs, running back down the
tunnel towards the shack. James sighed and lowered his wand, looking over at Snape, who was
collapsed on the grass, panting. They were close enough to the trunk of the willow so that the
flailing branches couldn’t touch them, but they couldn’t stay there. James pushed himself up and
pressed his hand to the knot at the base of the trunk. The tree froze, and he grabbed Snape roughly
by the elbow, pulling him to his feet. Now that the immediate danger was gone, James’ fury
mounted.

“Come on, arsehole,” he said, pulling Snape out of the shadow of the willow. He didn’t let go, even
when they were clear of the tree and it started moving again. Snape stayed silent, too, letting James
half lead him, half drag him towards the castle. It was only once they were inside the entrance hall
that he spoke.

“Where are you taking me?” Snape asked, his voice incredibly still holding a defiant note in it,
even after all that’d happened.

“We’re going to Dumbledore,” James said. His voice was cold, though anger was pounding
through him like molten lava. He’d never felt this furious in his life, probably because he’d never
had a reason to before now. But at that moment, James hated Snape with everything he had in him
and hated Sirius even more.

“Why?” Snape asked, not quite concealing the note of fear in his voice. James gave him a
contemptuous look.

“Because someone needs to deal with this,” he replied simply. Snape didn’t protest; he was
uncharacteristically silent as James marched towards his destination, one hand still holding the
other boy’s arm. Just like when James had raced out towards the willow, they met very few people
on their way up to Dumbledore’s office, which was good, as they were both covered in dirt and
James had a cut above his left eyebrow that he’d acquired at some point while they’d been running
down the tunnel. However, when they reached the corridor where the headmaster’s office lay, their
path was blocked by a tall figure.

Professor McGonagall stood in front of them, the stern expression on her face fading into shock as
she took in both of their appearances. “What on earth have you two been up to?” she asked sharply,
looking them up and down in alarm.

“We need to see the headmaster, Professor,” James said. His voice sounded strange to his own ears,
flatter than his usual cadence. Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes at him behind her square
spectacles, and James knew she was wondering whether it was worth reprimanding him for his
rudeness. She clearly decided against it, however, and merely turned and led them toward the
headmaster’s office.

“Pepper imps,” she announced in her stern voice, and the gargoyle leapt aside, allowing them to
climb onto the stone staircase, which carried them up towards a highly polished oak door with a
brass knocker in the shape of a griffin. Professor McGonagall knocked twice, and a voice inside
told them to enter.

Only when they walked into the circular office and the door shut behind them did James release
Snape’s arm. Professor McGonagall didn’t leave but walked in with the two boys as they
approached Dumbledore. The old headmaster was seated at his desk, and as they entered, he
looked up at them through his half-moon spectacles. He took in their appearance carefully, with no
sign of shock in his light blue eyes, instead fixing them with an analytical gaze.

“Please sit down, Mr. Potter, Mr. Snape,” he said, gesturing to the seats in front of his desk. Both
boys sat, neither of them speaking. Snape was avoiding Dumbledore’s gaze, but James met the
headmaster’s eyes steadily. He had nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of. Though he’d been in
this office several times throughout his years at Hogwarts, this was the first time that James felt he
was completely blameless in the situation.

“Mr. Potter,” Professor Dumbledore said. “Why don’t you enlighten us as to why you are here?”

His blue eyes were piercing, and James had the sense that Dumbledore already had a good guess as
to what’d happened. James took a deep breath, and, without looking at Snape, began his story. He
left nothing out. This wasn’t some prank where one of them might assume responsibility for the
others. Sirius had done this, and Sirius would face the consequences of his actions.

After James finished, there was a long pause, then Dumbledore turned his eyes upon Snape. “Is
that all correct, Mr. Snape?” Snape hesitated, then nodded, still not looking at Dumbledore. A pang
of deep resentment rose up in James. The slimy coward can’t even look him in the eye, he thought
bitterly.

“What happened between you and Mr. Black that led him to tell you how to follow Mr. Lupin?”
Dumbledore asked. The headmaster’s voice remained measured, and James felt a moment of
resentment for him, too, with his calm blue eyes. He looked so distant, so unaffected.

Snape finally looked up, and his dark eyes were cold. “I followed Black out of the castle,” he said.
“I saw Lupin being led by Madam Pomfrey to the Whomping Willow earlier, and when I saw
Black, I thought he might be going there as well.”

“And was he?” Dumbledore asked. James’ heart began to beat slightly faster, though he tried not to
show his nerves. After all, it wasn’t entirely true that he had nothing to hide, now that he came to
think of it. How on earth could he explain Sirius following Remus toward the willow?

“I don’t know,” Snape said, his voice flat. “He heard me and turned to confront me. We...argued.”

“I bet you did,” James muttered under his breath. Snape did not look at James, but both Professor
McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore turned their gazes onto him briefly before looking back at
Snape.
“What did you and Mr. Black argue about?” Dumbledore asked, fixing his gaze back onto Snape’s
face, his blue eyes piercing. Snape’s sallow skin flushed.

“He didn’t like that I was following him,” he replied, his voice low and his eyes back on his hands,
seemingly unable or unwilling to hold Dumbledore’s piercing gaze. “I said some things he didn’t
like about his family.”

James clenched his fists in his lap. So that’d been it. Snape had goaded Sirius, and Sirius had
lashed out, as he’d been itching to do to somebody for the last few weeks. James had known that
Sirius’ temper was on edge, but he’d thought it was under control, only directed at the people that
deserved it. He now realized that he was a fool for believing that Sirius, in his rage, would discern
the difference between hurting a friend and a foe. He felt a stab of pity for his best friend, though it
was still mingled with disgust.

“But why did he tell you how to get into the willow, and why on earth did you follow his
directions?” Professor McGonagall asked, speaking for the first time in the office, her voice sharp.

“I wanted to know where Lupin was going,” Snape said. “I’d suspected that he was a werewolf. I
noticed how he’d disappear every full moon, and—”

“And you wanted to expose him,” James spat, glaring sideways at the greasy-haired boy. Snape
glanced over at him in return, his eyes defiant.

“Yes,” he said, his voice cold and full of fury again. “I wanted to expose you all.”

“Well, I’m afraid that that is out of the question,” Professor Dumbledore said. James and Snape
looked back at him, Snape’s eyes filled with disbelief, James’ with gratitude.

“But he—” Snape began, his eyes wide and livid. Professor Dumbledore held up his hand to silence
him, and now his eyes were blazing, though he still looked calm.

“Mr. Lupin has done nothing wrong,” he said. “He is a victim of this cruel joke as much as you,
Mr. Snape. And I trust you know that I am well aware of his condition. In fact, it was I who made
special arrangements so that he could attend Hogwarts.”

Snape snorted quietly and Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. “I have no wish to hear your opinion on
my decision to allow him into this school,” the headmaster said, his voice cold. “You acted
extremely unwisely throughout this whole affair. You attempted to expose a classmate for
something he cannot control, and you were so determined to do so that you put your own life in
danger in the process. If Mr. Potter had not been there, you likely would have been killed.”

Snape glanced at James, his expression bitter, then looked back to Dumbledore. Dumbledore
leaned back in his chair, observing Snape over the tips of his fingers, which were pressed together.
“You will receive detention three nights a week for the next two weeks.”

Snape looked outraged, but Dumbledore held up a hand again, and he said nothing. “In addition,”
Dumbledore continued, and his voice sounded even more dangerous now. “You will say nothing to
anyone about Mr. Lupin’s condition. If you do, I may be forced to consider expulsion.”

Snape’s mouth fell open in shock. He opened and shut his lips for a moment, looking like a fish out
of water, then started, “But—”

“You also owe Mr. Potter a debt of gratitude,” Dumbledore said, ignoring the boy’s feeble protest.
“He saved your life. You may thank him now.” There was no trace of a question in his voice—this
was a command, and Snape clearly took it as one.
He turned to James, and, his eyes showing nothing but deep hatred, his teeth gritted, gave a slight
nod of his head and said: “Thank you.” His tone said clearly that he’d have rather cursed James to
an early grave.

“Good,” Dumbledore said. “That will be all then, Mr. Snape. You may leave.”

Snape got up, still looking resentful, and left the office. James didn’t watch him go; he kept looking
ahead at Dumbledore, who was now regarding him carefully. A few moments after the door shut,
Dumbledore addressed James again.

“Mr. Potter, that was a very brave thing that you did for Mr. Snape,” he said. James snorted under
his breath.

“I didn’t do it for him,” he said bitterly.

Dumbledore looked almost amused as he regarded him, which angered James again. “I know that
you did it for your friends,” Dumbledore said, resting his fingertips together and looking at James
over them. “But you also saved a life. You couldn’t let a boy die, not even one who you clearly
dislike.”

James shrugged. “It was wrong,” he said simply. “What Sirius did was wrong.”

“Yes, it was,” Dumbledore said. “That reminds me. Minerva, would you mind fetching Mr. Black
from Gryffindor Tower?”

“Of course,” Professor McGonagall said tersely, and she left the office without fanfare.
Dumbledore and James were left staring at each other across the desk, as if at an impasse. It was
James who finally broke eye contact, looking down at his hands. They were still streaked with dirt
and sweat, and, now that the adrenaline had worn off, were shaking slightly.

“I don’t want to see him,” James said to his hands, his voice quiet. Just then, he felt small, like a
child, and willed himself not to cry. The events of the evening had only just started to hit him, and
while the anger hadn’t ebbed, fear and a feeling of deep betrayal welled up inside him to
accompany it. Though James had known what he was risking when he went after Snape, he hadn’t
fully felt it until this moment. He could’ve died, could’ve been bitten, all to save two of his closest
friends from themselves.

“Mr. Black has done something terrible,” Dumbledore said, his words gentle. “Not only to Mr.
Lupin and Mr. Snape, but to you as well. He forced you to risk your life to rectify his mistake.”

“I’d risk anything for him,” James said, a note of bitterness returning to his voice, looking up at the
headmaster. “I just wish I didn’t have to do it so often.”

“Mr. Black has his own battles to face, ones that he will no doubt be fighting his whole life,”
Dumbledore said pensively. “I think that you should remember that when you talk to him about
this later, Mr. Potter.”

His tone was distant, analytical, and James felt another stab of annoyance. If Dumbledore knew
about Sirius’ struggles, about what he had to go through each time he saw his family, why didn’t
he do anything? Why did he act like none of this was his concern?

James shook his head. “What Sirius did was unforgivable,” he said, though the words only made
him feel hollow.

“Perhaps,” Dumbledore said lightly. “But are you truly ready to let him go forever?”
The question hung in the air, and James didn’t respond to it. He knew the answer, and he suspected
that Dumbledore knew it, too. Sirius was his best friend—his brother, really. He couldn’t let him
go, not forever.

“But before Mr. Black arrives, there are other questions I have to ask you,” Dumbledore said, his
tone suddenly businesslike. James stiffened slightly, sitting up straighter in his chair. “First of all,
how long have you and your friends known about Mr. Lupin’s condition?”

“We found out in second year,” James replied promptly. “Well, it was Sirius who realized at first,
but we all talked to Remus about it.”

“I see,” Dumbledore said, looking at James over his half-moon spectacles. “Well, in that case, I
assume I don’t have to impress upon you the vital importance of keeping his secret.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Nevertheless, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore said. “I know that you grew up in a very accepting
household. I should tell you that Mr. Snape’s reaction is, unfortunately, the more common one
among wizardkind.”

James nodded numbly.

“Secondly, I will be asking Mr. Black this as well, but do you have an explanation for why he
appeared to be heading towards the Whomping Willow this afternoon when Mr. Snape saw him?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, trying to keep his expression blank and hoping that Dumbledore
couldn’t hear his pounding heart. “Peter and I were in the Gryffindor common room, working on a
Potions essay. I’m not sure why he was there.”

“Well, let us hope that Mr. Black can account for it, then,” Dumbledore said. His tone wasn’t
accusatory, and James couldn’t tell whether Dumbledore knew he was lying or not. James nodded,
and Dumbledore smiled at him.

“Can I leave, Professor?” James asked after a moment.

“Yes, you may,” Dumbledore said. James pushed his chair back from the desk and got to his feet.
He walked over to the door, but once he reached it, he looked back.

“Professor, can I be the one to tell Remus what happened, tomorrow morning?” he asked, his voice
breaking slightly. Dumbledore gave him a long look, then nodded.

“Yes, you may,” he said.

“Thank you, Professor,” James said, then opened the door and exited the office. He stepped back
onto the circular staircase, lost in thought. He knew it was the right thing to do— Remus needed to
hear the news from someone close to him—but how would he say it? How did you tell someone
something like this?

James wasn’t paying attention when he reached the bottom of the staircase and stepped out into the
corridor but was startled to his senses as he nearly ran into someone standing just in front of it.

“Sor—” He started to apologize, then broke off when he realized that it was Sirius who was
standing there, Professor McGonagall just to his left. Sirius stared at James with an expression on
his face that mixed shock, regret, and sadness. He looked haggard, and his eyes were slightly red.
Perhaps he’d been crying. James tried not to care. He noticed the bruise that was beginning to form
on Sirius’ jaw where James had hit him and tried to call up a feeling of satisfaction at the sight. It
didn’t work.

The two boys stared at each other for a long moment, then James pushed past Sirius, heading back
towards Gryffindor Tower. He needed a shower, some sleep, and most of all, time to collect
himself. In the morning, he’d have to talk to Remus.

....

Remus woke up in the Shrieking Shack alone on Thursday morning. He ached all over, and when
he opened his eyes, he realized that his cheek was pressed against the hardwood floor, rather than
the mattress of the four-poster bed, which he usually woke up on these days. He tried to push
himself up but winced and collapsed back down on the floor immediately. His right shoulder
ached, and Remus knew that it was most likely dislocated.

What’d happened the previous night? Searching his memory, Remus came up blank. The only
thing he remembered was that Sirius hadn’t come to meet him, as he’d said he would before the
transformation. Remus had paced restlessly for an hour, hundreds of possibilities running through
his head as the sky had darkened outside and he’d succumbed to the transformation.

Now, looking around him at the empty room, Remus knew that he must have been alone for the
whole night. The room looked even more torn apart than usual. There were new claw marks on the
furniture, and, given the fact that every breath caused a shooting pain to run through his abdomen,
Remus knew that there must be new wounds on his body, too.

Just then, he heard footsteps downstairs. He must have woken up later than usual if Madam
Pomfrey was already here, and sure enough, moments later she pushed open the door and walked
in.

“Oh, dear,” she exclaimed, her voice full of concern. She knelt down beside him and helped him
sit up, handing him the blanket from the bed to cover himself. He tried not to cry out in pain when
she examined his shoulder and popped it back into place. On his abdomen, there were several
large, deep slashes. Even without her saying anything, he knew they’d scar. She poured some
dittany on them, causing them to scab over instantly. Then she turned to allow Remus to get
dressed gingerly before leading him back to the castle.

That morning, the matron wouldn’t hear his protests and made him stay in the Hospital Wing.
“You need rest,” she insisted, pushing him down onto the pillows of a spare bed. “It was clearly a
bad night.”

Remus sighed and conceded, closing his eyes and drifting off. Luckily he didn’t have classes that
morning, and perhaps he’d be able to go to the ones in the afternoon. Then, one of his friends could
explain what the hell had happened the previous night.

Remus wasn’t sure how long he slept, but when he woke again, the light was still shining brightly
from the eastern windows, so he figured that it was still morning. Looking over to the side of his
bed, he was startled to see James sitting there, staring at him. Remus sat up, ignoring the pain in his
shoulder and abdomen.

“Morning,” James said, giving Remus a tight smile. Remus tried to smile back, but the expression
on James’ face stopped him. Something was horribly wrong.

“What happened?” Remus asked, searching James’ face. “You didn’t come last night.”
James sighed, rubbing his hands over his face tiredly before looking back at Remus. His hazel eyes
were rimmed with red, and there was a small cut above his left eyebrow that hadn’t been there the
last time Remus had seen him. The most troubling part, however, was that Remus didn’t think he’d
seen James look so sad, or so defeated, ever before.

“Remus,” he said, in a voice that Remus associated with approaching a wounded animal.
“Something bad happened last night.”

“What? Did I—” Remus began to panic, his heart beating faster as a thousand horrible possibilities
ran through his mind. James shook his head.

“You didn’t hurt anyone,” he said, his voice tired. “I—I made sure of that.”

“What does that mean?” Remus asked, his voice rising anxiously.

“Yesterday afternoon,” James said, keeping his voice low so that Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t hear.
“When Sirius was heading to meet you in the willow, he ran into Snape. They had an argument,
and Sirius—” He broke off, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. He let it out slowly, then
looked at Remus again steadily. “Sirius told Snape how to get in through the willow.”

The world seemed to shatter around Remus. He couldn’t understand what James had said. Sirius
told Snape how to get in through the willow? It didn’t make any sense. He stared at James,
blinking rapidly. “What?”

James just stared back at him sadly. “Sirius told me what he’d done when he got back to the
common room,” he continued, his voice echoing in Remus’ ears as if from a great distance. “I went
after Snape, and I managed to get him out. Neither of us got hurt. But Remus, Snape saw…” He
trailed off helplessly, staring at Remus, who was no longer looking at him, but staring down at his
sheets.

“I brought Snape to Dumbledore,” James said. “Dumbledore threatened him with expulsion if he
told anyone what he saw. He won’t say anything.”

Remus’ head was spinning. The world was out of focus, but he forced himself to look back up at
James. He stared at him desperately, hoping that he’d say that it was all a joke, that none of it’d
really happened. But there was no grin on James’ face, and the look in his eyes was hollow. He
gazed back at Remus sadly.

“And Sirius?” Remus choked out.

“He has detention until the end of the term, I think,” James said bitterly. “Dumbledore didn’t take
house points off of either Sirius or Snape, I think because he knew he’d have to explain that to the
rest of the school.”

Remus didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He just tried to breathe. It was difficult, and not because of
his shoulder, or the slashes across his abdomen. It felt like a great weight was crushing him from
above, and he couldn’t escape it. Sirius.

“Remus,” James said, looking at his friend desperately. “What do you want me to do? Tell me
anything that might help you, and I’ll do it.”

Remus couldn’t respond for several long moments due to the phantom weight pressing down on
his chest, but when he finally did, he only said: “I just want to be alone right now, James.”

James nodded, then stood and looked down at him. The look of concern, of deep care on his face,
was nearly unbearable for Remus to witness. He closed his eyes. He felt James put a brief,
reassuring hand on his non-injured shoulder and then heard him leave, walking heavily out of the
Hospital Wing.

When James was gone, Remus rolled over onto his left shoulder and curled into the fetal position,
squeezing his eyelids tightly shut as waves of shock, anger, and sadness washed over him. Sirius,
his mind chanted. Sirius. Sirius. Sirius. Sirius. The name echoed dully, and as much as Remus
wanted to, he couldn’t push it out. He wanted to tear out the part of his brain where Sirius lived, but
he couldn’t. He simply let the grief and pain wash over him, bury him, and didn’t try to stop the
tears from coming.
 1976: Unforgivable, Part 2

When Remus returned to the boys’ dormitory the night following the full moon, he didn’t speak to
Sirius. He barely spoke to James or Peter, either, just changed and went to bed, moving around
quietly with his head down.

“Remus?” Sirius asked, his voice small, but Remus didn’t turn or make any move to indicate that
he’d heard him. Sirius stared at the nape of Remus’ neck, where the wavy brown hair stopped and
Sirius could see a light scar peeking out from his collar.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius said helplessly, addressing the back of Remus’ neck. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Remus moved, and for a moment Sirius’ heart leapt, thinking that Remus was going to look at him,
but Remus only walked towards the bathroom, shutting the door securely behind him.

Sirius looked around to find James’ accusatory stare on him from where he was sitting on his own
four-poster bed. He sighed. “I’m trying, okay?” he said. “I’m trying to...I don’t know, fix it.”

James snorted. “If that was your best effort, that’s pathetic,” he said. “Just leave him alone, Sirius.
He doesn’t want to talk to you right now. And maybe in the meantime, work on a better apology.”

Before Sirius could reply, James tugged the hangings closed around his bed, and Sirius was left
standing there. He glanced over at Peter, who only shrugged, and so Sirius retreated to his own
four-poster bed and shut the curtains around it. A minute later, he heard Remus open the bathroom
door and go back to his own four-poster next to Sirius’. He imagined Remus’ face, brow furrowed
and the corners of his mouth turned down slightly, blue eyes blank as if he’d drawn the shutters
over them, as they always looked when he was upset. Sirius closed his own eyes tightly, pressing
his fingers on them until stars popped in front of his vision. He didn’t want to see that, didn’t want
to picture Remus that way, knowing he’d caused it.

Sirius rolled over onto his side, drawing the covers over himself, but it was a long while before he
fell asleep that night, his mind too full of thoughts and his heart weighed down with guilt.

....

The next day, no one spoke to Sirius. At the Gryffindor table, James and Peter sat with Marlene
and Dorcas, and Remus didn’t come down to breakfast at all. Sirius knew from the looks that
Marlene and Dorcas were casting his way that James was telling both girls some version of what
had happened two days before. It must have been a heavily abbreviated one, but enough to get the
point of his betrayal across. The heavy weight in Sirius’ stomach grew at the thought of more of
his friends leaving him.

No one spoke to him in lessons, either. In Charms, Remus sat with Lily and Mary and stayed with
them into Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology, but Sirius noticed that Remus wasn’t talking
to the two girls much, either. The blank, closed-off expression on Remus’ face was familiar and
heartbreaking. Every time Sirius glanced over to the other boy and saw it, he felt like a wound in
his stomach was being opened up again and again, a knife cutting deeper and deeper into him.

That’s because of you, a small voice repeated in Sirius’ head. All because of you.

Sirius dragged himself through the following days, barely registering what was going on. No one
spoke to him. He went to his classes, served detentions, ate meals, and slept fitfully at night. He
avoided the library, as he knew that Remus was taking refuge there to keep away from him.
Instead, Sirius took to exploring the grounds, sometimes in human form, sometimes as the great
black dog. He’d discovered that this helped. He still felt pain, but as a dog, he didn’t have to
examine it as much. He just ran.

It wasn’t until Monday evening that someone spoke to him directly again. He was walking back up
to Gryffindor Tower late one night, coming from one of his jaunts across the lawn. As he entered
the corridor in front of the Fat Lady’s portrait, he barely registered the dark red hair and blazing
green eyes approaching him before Lily slapped him with all her might, the blow stinging as it
snapped his head to the side.

Sirius stood stock still, shocked for a second, before putting his hand lightly to his injured cheek,
and turning back to look her in the eyes. He was several inches taller than her, but the way that she
looked at him made it seem as if they were the same height, and he matched her glare, glowering
back at her coldly.

“Was that for Remus, or for your boyfriend, Snivellus?” he asked, not disguising the nasty note in
his voice. He was sick of her, Lily Evans with her self-righteous air and hypocrisy. He’d been
listening to James going on about her all year, yet she thought she was too good for his best friend.
Now, he was full of anger, guilt, and fear, and he wasn’t in the mood to listen to a lecture from her.

“Severus isn’t my boyfriend, as you well know,” Lily began, her eyes flashing angrily again. “But
it was for both of them. How dare you? You could’ve gotten Severus killed, and made Remus a
murderer.”

“Don’t you think I know that, Evans? For fuck’s sake,” Sirius growled, glaring at her. “I know that
better than anyone else.”

“Well, you didn’t seem to care a few days ago, did you?” Lily retorted.

Sirius snorted. “I’m surprised it’s taken you this long to come find me,” he said, looking down at
her bitterly. “I expected you the moment after it happened.”

“I didn’t know before now,” she admitted, crossing her arms and glaring at him. “Remus just told
me during our patrol. I suppose whatever Dumbledore said to Severus worked since he hasn’t said
a word to me.”

“Or maybe he just knows that you would tell him off as well as me,” Sirius said, a cruel note in his
voice, his eyes piercing her. “Maybe he knows that you wouldn’t like what he was trying to do that
night when he followed Remus.”

Lily ignored this, still glaring at him. “I don’t understand you, Black,” she said, a note of real
puzzlement in her voice now, alongside the anger. “You’re perfectly capable of getting all O’s on
your assignments, but you can’t think before you speak for one second before putting two people’s
lives in danger!”

“Yes, Evans,” Sirius said, glaring back at her, even as his words were full of self-loathing. “You’ve
been absolutely right about me all along, are you happy? I’m an impulsive, selfish, egotistical
bastard who couldn’t keep his temper in check for a moment to think about the consequences of his
actions, and how his words would impact the people that he loves. There, I’ve said it for you, now
you can leave me alone.”

Lily stared at him, looking slightly taken aback. Sirius snorted and shook his head. “Look, if
there’s anything I’ve missed, feel free to fill in the blanks. I’ve already been yelled at by both
James and McGonagall. Remus won’t even look at me, and Marlene and Dorcas don’t even really
know what I’ve done, but they won’t speak to me, either, because of what little James told them.
I’ve got detention until the end of the term. I very nearly got expelled! What do you think you can
say to hurt me, exactly?”

His voice was bitter as he glared at her almost tiredly, feeling utterly deflated, all the fight taken
out of him. Lily stared at him as if she’d never seen him before, and Sirius knew that this time, the
glint in her eyes was pity.

“Are you sorry you did it?” Lily asked, her voice gentler than it’d been before. She looked as if she
couldn’t quite decide whether she still wanted to yell at him or not. Perhaps he was too pathetic to
be a satisfying target for her ire at the moment.

“Fuck, of course I am,” Sirius replied, shaking his head disbelievingly at her words. “What the hell
kind of question is that?”

“An honest one,” Lily shot back, eyeing him warily. “It’s no secret that I’ve never liked you, and
you’ve never liked me, either. I don’t pretend to know what kind of person you are.”

“Well, I am sorry,” Sirius said bitterly. “I was angry, and you must know by now that I have
trouble controlling my temper. I wanted to hurt Snape, and I didn’t think. I fucked up.”

“What did he say to you?” Lily asked, staring at him, her eyes narrowed. “What could he have
possibly said to you to make you that angry?”

Sirius wondered why she was asking him this instead of Snape. Perhaps she knew she wouldn’t get
a straight answer from the Slytherin boy. Perhaps she knew that she was lying to herself about who
her best friend was, deep down. It was Sirius’ turn to pity her, now, and he allowed the emotion in
gladly, feeling somehow on an equal footing with her again. Sirius met her gaze, trying to decide
how much he really wanted to tell her, and finally decided on the truth. After all, who cared what
Lily Evans knew?

“He said some shit about my brother, Regulus,” he said, looking down at the ground for a moment,
kicking his foot nervously. “He taunted me, said that Reg had told the other Slytherins that I was a
disgrace to the name of Black, that he didn’t consider me to be his brother anymore, and a load of
other crap. Anyway, he was following me, trying to figure out where Remus was going. He’s
always lurking around during the full moon, hoping to expose Remus. I lost it.”

Sirius left out the other thing that Snape had said, the part which he himself hadn’t figured out yet.
He did care if Lily knew that.

“Your brother’s younger than you, isn’t he?” Lily asked, a furrow appearing between her brows.

“He’s a third year,” Sirius confirmed, sighing deeply and looking back up at her. “And he was
sorted into Slytherin, just like I was supposed to be when I got to Hogwarts.”

“You still care about him, though,” Lily said, gazing at Sirius pensively. “Don’t you?”

Sirius raised his eyebrows at her as if it should be obvious. “Of course I do,” he said. “He was
practically the only person I ever cared about before Hogwarts. You don’t just get rid of that in a
hurry.”

“I know,” Lily said. She seemed to struggle with herself, staring at Sirius, then blurted out: “I have
an older sister, Petunia. She’s a Muggle, and she’s hated me ever since I found out that I was a
witch, but I still love her.”
“Of course you do,” Sirius said, his grey eyes boring into her green ones, understanding forming an
unsteady bridge between them. “You don’t just stop loving people when they hurt you. Sometimes
I think that you only really know that you love someone if they hurt you. That’s what love means,
isn’t it? Someone being able to cause you pain more than other people?”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Lily said, staring at him in slight alarm. “People you love can hurt you,
yes, and it hurts an awful lot more than if they were a stranger, but that’s not what love is. People
who love you shouldn’t hurt you.”

Sirius looked back at her in silence for a long moment, and maybe it was her words or something
else that brought the barrier down, but he had to talk to someone, and despite her anger, Lily was
the only person who had really spoken to him in days.

“I think I broke us,” he said, his eyes burning with the pressure of holding back tears. “What if he
never speaks to me again?”

She didn’t need to ask who he was talking about. “I think it will take time, Sirius,” she said. “And
groveling, if you haven’t done that already,” she added, more sternly this time.

“I’ve apologized,” Sirius said. “But James told me to leave him alone. He doesn’t want to talk to
me. He won’t even look at me, Lily.”

He wondered at what point in the conversation he’d gone from calling her Evans, as he’d done for
his whole time at Hogwarts, to being comfortable using her first name, and she his. It was almost
like they were friends, which was far from the truth.

“You broke his trust,” she said. “I think it will take a lot of time, but I do think he’ll forgive you
eventually. He cares about you too much to never speak to you again.”

“I’m so scared of losing him,” Sirius said, his voice sounding hollow and broken to his own ears.
“James I know will forgive me eventually. He’ll yell at me some more, and maybe hit me again
like when he found out, but he’ll forgive me...I honestly wish Remus would yell at me and hit me.
The silence is worse.”

“Yes, well, you deserve the silence,” Lily said, giving him a pointed look. “And Remus isn’t like
you or Potter. He’s not really one to hit someone when he’s angry.”

“Me, James…or you, you mean?” Sirius said, giving her a slight smirk. Lily rolled her eyes.

“Don’t get this twisted, Black,” she said, glaring at him again. Sirius smirked at her renewed use of
his last name. “We’re not friends. I still don’t like you, and I’m still furious with you for what you
did to Remus and Severus.”

“You just pity me now, too?” Sirius asked, shaking his head in exasperation. “It’s okay, Evans, I
get it. And for the record, I still don’t like you either. Thanks for listening to me just now, though.
It was a decent thing to do.”

“You’re welcome,” Lily responded. “Just remember that if you do anything else to Remus or
Severus, I will be very happy to slap you again.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Sirius said, smiling slightly despite himself. “See you around,
Evans.”

“Bye, Black,” she said, walking past him. From that point onward, despite all that they’d said,
Sirius and Lily couldn’t help but think differently about one another.
 ....

Sirius tried to be patient. He tried to take Lily’s advice, as he knew that she’d been right. It’ll take
time, he reminded himself. But days turned into weeks, and no one spoke to him. James and Peter,
Sirius knew, were taking their cue from Remus. They wouldn’t speak to Sirius until Remus did, and
Remus was still spending almost every waking moment holed up in the library to avoid Sirius.

Sirius missed his friends so much that it felt like a physical ache. He missed the laughter in their
dormitory, their adventures, and their physical closeness. He lost count of the days since he’d last
touched anyone, and at night he dreamed of just the feel of someone else’s body against his, but
whenever he turned to see who it was, they evaporated.

Sirius worried that he was going mad. Because no one was talking to him, old conversations began
to haunt him, echoing in his head. He heard Lily’s voice saying, People who love you shouldn’t
hurt you, which turned into his mother’s, screaming at him about what a disappointment he was.
The echo of Regulus’ voice came next, saying all of the things that Snape had claimed he’d told
the other Slytherins about Sirius. Then he heard Snape, a sneer in his voice, saying, Do your
parents know that you’re a fucking queer with a hard-on for a dirty mutt? Sirius pressed his palms
to his eyes, making little stars appear in his vision again, trying to clear his head.

“Please turn your mind back to the task at hand, Mr. Black,” McGonagall said sharply from her
desk, looking up from the essays she was grading. Sirius gave her a sheepish look.

“Yes, Professor,” he said, turning back to the cages he was cleaning without magic. Earlier that
day, they’d contained mice for Transfiguration, but since they’d all been vanished successfully,
there were only a few droppings left behind.

He cleaned in silence for another half hour, trying to push away the dark thoughts that kept
popping into his head, but it was difficult, as there was nothing cheerful for him to replace them
with. Eventually, he got all of the cages clean and McGonagall excused him. As he walked in
silence up to Gryffindor Tower, a new wave of determination came over him.

Enough is enough, he thought. You’ve got to stop being scared to talk to Remus. You have to talk to
him, apologize fully and properly. Say more than three words. Otherwise, nothing will change.

It was easier said than done, however, and as he walked back to the tower, Sirius tried desperately
to think of what the right words were to express the regret he’d been feeling for the past two weeks.
Eventually, he came to only one conclusion: there were no words to make what he’d done better. It
wasn’t much, but it was the only jumping-off point he had.

When he walked into the Gryffindor common room, it was almost empty. It was late, after all, and
the only students there were working quietly, in small groups, or on their own. Dorcas, writing
what looked like their Charms essay in a corner, looked up at him briefly, but did not speak as he
passed her. Sirius acknowledged a feeble lurch of his stomach as she averted her dark eyes from his
face, but was too overcome by nerves to let it bother him much. He only hoped that Remus wasn’t
already in bed by the time he got to the dormitory.

When Sirius arrived in the boy’s dorm, he was lucky: all three of his roommates were up, getting
ready for bed. James and Peter glanced up when he entered, and while Peter gave him a small,
awkward smile, James ignored him. Still, Sirius’ eyes were all for Remus, who hadn’t turned
around. His shoulders were tensed, his back to Sirius, so Sirius knew that he’d heard him enter.
Sirius cleared his throat.

“Moony,” he said quietly, ignoring James’ sharp look at him. “I need to talk to you. I know you
don’t want to talk to me, or to look at me, and that’s fine. I don’t blame you. I deserve it. But I have
to say…”

Sirius cleared his throat again, trying to get rid of the lump that was restricting his windpipe.
Remus’ shoulders still looked stiff, and his back was very still and straight. He was listening. Sirius
continued.

“I have to say how sorry I am. I’ve tried to give you space because I know that what I did was
unforgivable, but I never really said it, not like I should’ve, and I need to. I hate myself for what I
did, and if I could do it all over again, I would never have done it in a million years.”

Neither Peter nor James were moving, either. The dorm was deadly quiet, Sirius’ words ringing
into the silence, directed at the back of Remus’ head, which was as still as a statue. It looked like
he was staring at the opposite wall, his mind perhaps working fast, processing all that Sirius had
said, or maybe just clouded with anger over the fact that Sirius had the gall to speak to him at all.
Sirius thought his words sounded hollow, his voice cracked with the lack of use over the previous
two weeks. He went on doggedly, determined to say what he’d come to say.

“I know that there’s no possible explanation that I can give that would make it up to you, that
would make it better. Anything I said would just be an excuse, and that would be insulting to you.
There’s no excuse. No words could erase all the pain I caused you, and everything I risked when I
told Snape what I did,” Sirius said.

His mouth was dry now, and his tongue tasted like chalk. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining the
tremor he thought he saw in Remus’ hands, but then Remus clenched them into fists, and Sirius’
heart dropped. It’s no use, he thought. None of this is any use. He still needed to finish, though,
because whether or not Remus could forgive him, he deserved an apology, and Sirius would give
him one.

“I guess all I’ll say is...I let my temper get the better of me. I was stupid and reckless, and I didn’t
think. You shouldn’t forgive me, but please believe me when I say I’ve never regretted anything
more in my life than saying those words to Snape. You mean so much to me, Remus, and I hope
that even if I don’t deserve it, maybe one day you’ll find it in you to forgive me.”

Remus didn’t turn. He didn’t speak. He was still as stiff as a board, his fists clenched, facing away
from Sirius. Sirius stared at him for a few moments longer, then sighed and turned to go into the
bathroom, getting ready for bed. He’d said what he’d needed to say, and now the words were out
there. Just like with Snape, he couldn’t take them back. In this instance, however, Sirius didn’t
want to.

....

Later that night, Remus tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable. Two hours after he’d gotten
into his bed, he still couldn’t make himself fall asleep. He’d counted sheep, tried to remember as
many ridiculous old names from A History of Magic as he could, and even contemplated knocking
himself out on the bedpost, but decided against it. What Sirius had said to him earlier that evening
kept replaying in his head, and he couldn’t stop it. Even if Remus did fall asleep, he was sure that
Sirius’ words would invade his dreams.

I let my temper get the better of me. Remus had guessed that much before, with what little James
had told him. He didn’t know why, however. What had Snape said to Sirius? What had made him
so angry that he forgot about the promise he’d made to Remus? What’d made him so angry that
he’d turned cold and cruel, and tried to use Remus to have Snape killed?
I know that there’s no possible explanation that I can give that would make it up to you, that would
make it better. Sirius had said that the explanation wasn’t good enough, but what was it? Didn’t
Remus still deserve an explanation, even if it wouldn’t even come close to making up for what
Sirius had done? Remus scolded himself for wanting the whole story when he knew it wouldn’t
make him forgive Sirius, but his mind kept churning with the possibilities.

You mean so much to me, Remus...

Remus shut his eyes briefly, placing his hand over them, trying to prevent the tears from welling up
in them, just as they had every time he’d thought about Sirius over the past two weeks. Sirius had
betrayed him in the worst way possible, used him as a weapon against Snape, and yet Remus
missed him so much it felt unbearable sometimes. He couldn’t even look at Sirius anymore,
because every time he looked at him he felt not only a sharp pang of anger and betrayal, but also a
duller ache of longing, which somehow hurt even more, and was harder to push away.

Just then, Remus heard the sounds of bedsprings creaking from the bed to his right, then footsteps
on the hardwood floor. Remus could hear Sirius shuffling around for a few moments, then his
footsteps moved further away, and the dormitory door opened and shut quietly. Sirius had left the
dormitory. Where had he gone?

Remus tried to fall asleep again, tried to put his mind at rest, but it was racing now more than ever.
What was Sirius doing, wandering about the castle in the dead of night? Remus shifted restlessly
for several minutes, then gave in to his curiosity. From the drawer of his bedside table, Remus
pulled out a piece of parchment and unfolded it.

Under his illuminated wand tip, Remus made out the details of the map which the Marauders had
been working on for the past year and a half. It was still only half completed, but they’d all made a
lot of progress since the start of their full moon adventures. Of course, no one had looked at it in
the last few weeks, but just before the full moon, Remus had worked out how to cast the
immensely difficult Homonculous Charm on it, so that it tracked the whereabouts of everyone
within the castle grounds. He was still unsure whether it’d worked right, but as he scanned the
map’s surface, he spotted a tiny dot labeled Sirius Black moving quickly away from Gryffindor
Tower.

He followed the dot’s progress for a while until it came to rest in the Astronomy Tower. He stared
at it for a few moments, conflicted over what to do, then a sense of urgency took over him. He
needed answers, even if he didn’t want them. Remus swung his feet out of bed and pushed the
curtains of his four-poster bed aside impatiently. Stepping into his boots and lacing them up, he
grabbed his coat, his wand, and the map, and set out to follow Sirius.

No one was in the corridors at this time of night. He checked the map periodically for signs of
Filch, the new caretaker, or Mrs. Norris, his abominable cat, but they were all the way on the other
side of the castle, so he felt quite safe following Sirius’ path through the deserted corridors, his
wand lit.

Remus hesitated as he reached the stairs to the Astronomy Tower, then took a deep breath and
began to climb them, stowing the map into his pocket and extinguishing his wandlight as he did so.
The moon was a perfect crescent hanging in the sky, the stars around it shining brighter to
compensate, lighting the top of the tower. Remus climbed the stairs silently, and when he reached
the top, he stopped. Sirius sat on the side of the parapet overlooking the grounds, his legs swinging
free.

Remus knew that Sirius wasn’t afraid of heights. He thrived off of them, in fact. His position only
reflected his liking for finding high ground, something Remus had often noticed on their full moon
adventures. Even as a dog, Sirius liked to find vantage points from which he could look out over
the grounds. Still, Remus couldn’t stop the twinge of anxiety he felt, seeing Sirius there, so close to
the edge. He pushed the feeling away.

Remus cleared his throat, breaking the silence. Sirius started slightly and turned. “Remus,” he said,
looking surprised to see the other boy, his sweater pulled close around him in the chilly air, which
was unusual for late April. “What’re you doing here?”

“The question is, what are you doing here?” Remus said, moving forward towards the parapet. “I
heard you leave, and saw you on the map. Are you trying to make yourself die faster from
hypothermia? It’d be one of your more stupid ideas.”

Sirius gave him a slight smile. “Yeah, I guess that’s saying something given recent events,” he
remarked bitterly. “Why did you follow me?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Remus said, then paused before continuing. “And I wanted to talk to you. Can I
sit?”

“Of course,” Sirius said, shifting slightly to make room for Remus on the ledge. Silence fell over
them as they stared out at the sky, the stars and moon prominent above them.

“I know that you said you didn’t want to give me an excuse because you knew it would be
insulting, but...I still want to know what happened,” Remus said after a long moment, glancing at
his friend beside him. They were close enough that goosebumps emerged on Remus’ right arm, the
one closest to Sirius, which were entirely unrelated to the cold and entirely related to the
unquantifiable feeling of Sirius sitting next to him, as if he could feel the heat coming off the other
boy’s body, though this was pure imagination.

“I know that there really isn’t anything you can say that’ll make it better, but I still—” He broke
off, shaking his head slightly, then tried to find another way to continue. “It’s just been at the back
of my mind every moment, thinking about what was said, what was done, and even if it won’t
make it better, I want to know. I’m going crazy not knowing.”

Remus swallowed, and there was a long silence, as Sirius stared at Remus. Then he took a deep
breath and began the story.

Remus saw the images in his mind’s eye as Sirius recounted them. He watched Sirius walk out
towards the willow, then pause, hearing Snape behind him, and turn to confront the Slytherin boy.
Remus imagined their confrontation as Sirius told him of the taunts that’d come out of the other
boy’s mouth—what he’d revealed about Regulus and said about Sirius’ mother. After Sirius had
finished, Remus continued to stare at him. Sirius met his eyes, and the intensity of their shared gaze
made Remus flush slightly, breaking their eye contact to look out over the castle grounds.

“Remus...please say something,” Sirius said, his voice desperate. There was a long silence, and
Remus didn’t look back at him when he finally spoke.

“Well, you’re right,” Remus said, sighing. “It didn’t make it better.”

Sirius’ face fell, but Remus wasn’t finished. “It didn’t make it better,” continued. He looked back
up at Sirius. His heart was pounding in his chest. Speaking to Sirius again for the first time in
weeks was like drawing poison out of a wound. It was a sharp pain, but somehow more bearable
than the dull ache he’d been feeling for the last two weeks. “But at least now I know. And maybe
now I can stop thinking about it so much.” Sirius’ head snapped up and he stared at Remus, a
flicker of hope showing in his expression.
“Does that mean…” Sirius swallowed, seemingly unable to finish the sentence, as if he didn’t want
to dare hope that Remus might be saying what he thought he was saying.

“I thought about what you said...I’ve been thinking about it non-stop, actually,” Remus admitted,
running a hand through his wavy brown locks and fixing Sirius with a piercing look. “And I don’t
think I can stay angry at you forever, because...like you said about me, I really care about you,
Sirius, more than almost anyone. And so when I think about losing you to this—or to anything,
really—it’s unbearable. These last two weeks have been torture.”

Remus sighed, closing his eyes briefly as he tried not to think about the ache of not speaking to
Sirius, not looking at him, during the past few weeks. “I alternate between beating myself up about
what could’ve happened and hating you, and then tearing myself apart because I miss you so much.
I’m not saying that I forgive you, but I don’t think that I can go on not looking at you, not speaking
to you. I don’t think that I can stand that. So it might be a while before things go back to normal,
but maybe eventually they will. I can’t really see a different way forward on my end.”

Remus felt almost angry with himself as he said it, part of him hating how much he needed Sirius,
even after Sirius had betrayed him. But of course, Remus was used to Sirius always being the
person that made him act illogically, used to the other boy inspiring something in him that made
him betray his mind and make decisions on instinct and impulse instead. Remus didn’t know if this
was good or bad, but it was Sirius, so Remus couldn’t shake it any more than he could shake the
other boy. He looked back at Sirius, and a deep longing welled up in him again, unbearable and
unmovable.

“I’ll do better,” Sirius said, his gaze earnest as his grey eyes reflected back the longing in Remus’
own pair. “I’ll do everything and anything to make it up to you.”

“You’d better,” Remus said, and finally, he smiled. “I expect you to be my servant for the
indefinite future.”

Sirius’ face broke into a smile, too, and he let out a short, surprised laugh. “Sounds like a plan,” he
said. He didn’t reach out to touch Remus, didn’t clasp his shoulder or hug him, but Remus could
feel that Sirius wanted to. Still, as much as Remus ached for closeness with the other boy, he didn’t
reach out to him, either. Instead, the two boys looked back out over the grounds together, and
Remus allowed himself to appreciate Sirius’ mere presence beside him again, allowed the
goosebumps to spring up along the arm closest to Sirius, and didn’t question them. They stayed
like that for a long while, and when they finally returned to the dormitory in the wee hours of the
morning, Remus slept soundly for the first time in weeks.

....

When Sirius finally got out of bed the next day, the clock on his bedside table read 11:36 a.m.. It
was a Saturday, so he didn’t have to worry about missing lessons, but it was almost lunchtime, and
his stomach was rumbling. He rose to his feet and headed to the loo, passing Remus on his way. At
first, Sirius worried that the previous night had just been a dream, then Remus gave Sirius a small,
tentative smile, and his heart expanded in relief. He smiled back and went about brushing his teeth.

After dressing, Sirius turned to look around the dormitory. Peter was off somewhere, his bed
unmade, curtains open. James’ bed was empty as well, but neater, and Remus was rummaging in
his chest of drawers.

“Want to go to lunch?” Sirius asked.

“Sure,” Remus replied. He found the sweater he was looking for, pulled it over his head, and
nodded to Sirius, making his way toward the dormitory door. As they made their way towards it,
however, the door opened, revealing James. He stopped in the doorway, his hand holding it open,
looking from one to the other as they stood side by side, staring at him as if caught.

There was a silence, then James spoke. “Are you two speaking again, then?” he asked, a curious
note in his voice. Remus glanced at Sirius and nodded.

“Yeah, we are,” he told James. “We talked a bit last night.”

James gave a slow nod, looking first at Remus, then fixing his gaze on Sirius, who was staring
back at him rather warily. “Okay,” James said. He stepped forward almost casually, letting the
dormitory door swing closed behind him, and punched Sirius squarely on the nose. A crack rang
out through the dormitory, and Sirius swore, stumbling back and clutching his face, staring at
James.

“You deserved that,” James said quietly, breathing heavily as he stared at Sirius.

“I know,” Sirius replied after a moment, steadying himself with one hand on James’ bedpost and
the other hand feeling his broken nose, one nostril now streaming blood.

“I’m going to go,” Remus said, glancing from one to the other and then disappearing down the
boys’ dormitory staircase, leaving the two to air out their problems in peace.

Sirius went to the bathroom and grabbed a wad of toilet paper, holding it to his nose gingerly while
still staring at James. When the flow ceased, he tossed the paper in the garbage, and straightened
again, looking at his best friend warily. “Do you want to do it again?” he offered nonchalantly.
James stared at him for a moment, then his posture slumped and he shook his head.

“Not particularly, no,” he said, sitting down on his bed.

“Well, let me know if you ever do,” Sirius said, sitting across from him on his own four-poster.
James, despite himself, let out a snort of laughter.

“I will,” he said. Silence fell between them again, a loaded, awkward silence. Sirius broke it.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking up at James. “I know that—”

“Do you?” James interrupted, looking at Sirius accusatorially. “Do you really know what I’m
feeling right now?”

Sirius paused, his mouth open, and shook his head. “No, maybe I don’t,” he admitted. After
another pause, he added, a bit impatiently: “Why don’t you tell me, then?”

The two boys glared at each other, then James relented and spoke. “I risked everything to fix your
mistake,” he said. “You fucked up, and I cleaned up your mess like I always do. But this time I had
to risk my own life to make it happen. And I would do it again, Sirius, you know I would…but
why did I have to?”

There was another long pause. “I’m sorry,” Sirius said, hanging his head. “You shouldn’t have had
to do that. The moment you left the common room, it hit me what I’d done, and I regretted it.”

“Why’d you do it?” James asked, curiosity filling his voice as his frustration seemed to ebb.
“Snape told Dumbledore that you two had an argument, and he said something about your family.
Was that it?”
Sirius looked at James, looked at him with eyes full of pain and conflict in them, searching his best
friend’s hazel ones. As he had with every person he’d told this story to before, he wondered how
much he should tell James. So far, he hadn’t told anyone about what Snape had said to him about
him and Remus, and as much as a part of him ached to come clean to James, he just couldn’t bring
himself to.

“That was it,” Sirius said heavily. “He told me that Regulus said a whole bunch of awful things
about me, that he thought I was a blood traitor and that he wanted me to be disowned. He
mentioned my mother, too. And said some stuff about Remus...about him being a monster. I
broke.”

James nodded slowly, his eyes not leaving Sirius’ face. “Snape could be lying, though,” he said
after a moment. “He could’ve been lying about Regulus saying that stuff.”

Sirius sighed heavily. “He could’ve been, yeah,” he said, wishing with all his heart that he could
believe it.

“You think he was telling the truth though, don’t you?” James asked.

Sirius shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose I do,” he admitted. There was a long pause, where Sirius let his
gaze trail around the dormitory before looking back at James.

“I’m fucked up, James,” he said finally, meeting his best friend’s gaze and feeling exhausted all of
a sudden, despite the fact that he’d had his first good night’s sleep in a while. “The fact that that’s
all it took for me to tell Snape what I did...that’s fucked up. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I
sure as hell don’t deserve Moony’s.”

“But Remus did forgive you,” James said, raising his eyebrows at his best friend. Sirius shook his
head.

“No,” he said heavily. “But he wants to move forward. He says he can’t go on not talking to me
anymore. I’m glad. He shouldn’t forgive me.”

“Stop it,” James said, firmly, a note of protectiveness back in his voice. “Look, I wasn’t going to
talk to you again until Moony did, because he’s the one you hurt the most, but neither hating
yourself nor feeling sorry for yourself is going to help anything. It isn’t going to make things go
back to normal with Remus, that’s for sure. And for the record, I forgive you for the part of it that I
can forgive you for. You just better figure your shit out, though. This can’t happen again.”

“It won’t,” Sirius assured his best friend, his words full of conviction. “Never again.”

“Good,” James said, giving him a satisfied nod. He stood up and made his way over to Sirius, then
pulled him up into a brotherly hug. “Now, let’s go down to the Hospital Wing so that Madam
Pomfrey can fix your nose.”

“Thank Merlin, it fucking hurts,” Sirius said, laughing slightly and then wincing.

“If you complain, I might be tempted to punch you again,” James warned, but he smiled
nevertheless.

They headed down the boys’ dormitory stairs, ignoring the glances they got as people studied
Sirius’ broken nose and their renewed air of camaraderie with curiosity. As they passed the
fireplace, Sirius caught Lily’s eye as she looked up at the two boys from her book. She gave him a
small nod, and he nodded back. There was the mere hint of a smile on her face as she turned back
to her reading, which was mirrored by Sirius’ own as he followed James out of the common room.
 1976: Second-Class Citizen, Part 1
Chapter Notes

cw: graphic depictions of violence, blood, bigotry

On a mild, sunny Wednesday afternoon in late May, Mary could be found lying on the grass on the
grounds doing her coursework. In only a month, Mary, along with the rest of the fifth years, was
set to take her O.W.L.s, and in half an hour, she’d have to attend her career advice meeting with
Professor McGonagall to discuss her options for her future. In Mary’s opinion, it was quite unfair
that wizards and witches were expected to decide their whole career at the age of fifteen, and that
their career choices were so limited by what classes they’d decided to take at the age of thirteen.
Despite her skepticism about the whole process, however, Mary was anxious to do well in her
O.W.L.s, as she knew that whatever she wanted to do, having good marks would only help her in
the process.

However, at this particular moment, she was failing miserably to concentrate on her work. Instead,
she kept looking across the grass towards the group of intimidating-looking Slytherin boys sitting
by the water. Among them were Avery, Mulciber, Snape, and Rosier, along with some other boys
that Mary didn’t know the names of. They were clustered together, talking in low voices so that
Mary couldn’t hear what they were saying from her spot against a tree. Still, Mary could sense that
they were certainly not discussing O.W.L.s, what with their air of secrecy. Mary’s skin prickled
with disgust as she regarded them. She didn’t think that they’d spotted her, and that was for the
best, as who knew what they’d do to her if they saw her watching them.

The previous week, the same group of boys in front of her had attacked a second-year Muggle-born
Hufflepuff boy—not that the teachers knew that. Nevertheless, the rumors had spread around the
school quickly enough. The problem was, there was no proof. The boy in question remembered
next to nothing, but Mulciber had been overheard bragging in the Slytherin common room about
how he’d practiced the Imperious Curse on the boy, making him humiliate himself in front of the
other Slytherins for their amusement. When word spread around the school, the Slytherins were
called into Professor Dumbledore’s office to answer questions about the incident, but they’d denied
everything, and weren’t punished. Miranda Ellerton, Mary’s Ravenclaw friend, had whispered to
her in History of Magic on Tuesday that she’d heard that the governors had stopped the boys from
being suspended, a decision that’d largely been spearheaded by Avery’s father, who was highly
influential in the Ministry of Magic. Every time Mary thought of it, she felt bile build in her throat,
and her skin flushed with barely repressed rage.

How dare they? She thought angrily as she glared at them. How dare they use an Unforgivable
Curse on a second year? How dare they think they’re better than everyone else because they’re
“pureblood?” Those disgusting, inbred, twisted, pieces of—

“Earth to Mary! Hellooo?”

Mary started, coming back to attention as she suddenly became aware of a hand waving in front of
her face. Without Mary realizing it, Marlene had approached her on the lawn and was now sitting
in front of her, a puzzled yet amused look on her face.

“Oh, hey, Marley,” Mary said, shaking her head to clear it. “What’s up?”
“What’s up with you?” Marlene said, her voice sounding amused. She looked over towards the
group of Slytherins that Mary had been staring at, and her expression darkened. “Brooding over
those disgusting snakes again?”

“How can I not?” Mary said, the frustration returning to her voice. “I can’t believe that they got
away with what they did to Martin Simmons last week! They should be in Azkaban.”

“I know, Mac,” Marlene said, her voice sympathetic. “They should be. But there’s nothing we can
do about it, can we? If I could, I would hex them all into the next week, but they always travel in a
pack, and it’s impossible to get past Avery and Mulciber without getting ten times worse thrown
back at you.”

Mary snorted with disgust, shaking her head, her eyes lingering on the boys at the water’s edge.
“I’m tired of being helpless,” she said, turning back to Marlene. “I’m tired of everyone saying we
can’t do anything. We should be able to do something! Half of the school’s already forgotten about
it, like it’s normal, like it’s okay. It’s not okay!”

Her voice rose without her intending it to, so that a few students nearby turned around to look at
her, including some of the Slytherin boys by the lake. Marlene shot them a glare, which they
returned with their usual sneers before turning back away.

“It’s not okay,” Marlene agreed, once it was clear that Mary had finished her thought. Her voice
was lower than Mary’s had been but almost as full of anger as Mary’s. “I know it’s not, Mary. And
I’m sorry—I know that half of the Hogwarts students acted like it was some kind of gossip, then
forgot all about it once the next couple broke up or whatever else. It’s shit, I know. People don’t
think about what it really means.”

Mary shook her head, pressing her lips into a tight line to resist the urge to cry. She was shaking
slightly, she noticed, and the rage that’d been coursing through her had given away partially to
fear.

“I think about what it means,” she said quietly. “I think about it every day. I have to—I’m a
Muggle-born, just like Martin.”

Marlene didn’t reply, but her blue gaze grew sad as she looked at Mary, her expression full of
understanding. Marlene wasn’t always good at sympathy—she was usually the act now and ask
questions later kind of person, the one who rarely stopped to talk about thoughts or feelings. Still,
perhaps it was the fact that she’d been raised in a family of blood traitors, perhaps it was that her
father had probably brought this topic to the dinner table more than once in her childhood, or
perhaps it was something else, but she was listening now, and Mary was grateful.

“I don’t understand how Lily can still be friends with Snape after this,” Mary said after a long
moment, her gaze drifting back towards the lakeside, towards the boy with black hair sitting next to
Rosier, an unreadable expression on his face as he listened to his companions talk with rapt
attention. Mary shook her head, a cold, leaden weight dropping into her stomach. “She goes on and
on about the Marauders playing pranks and hexing people, but she doesn’t even mention the fact
that her best friend probably watched this attack happen and didn’t lift a finger.”

“I don’t understand it, either,” Marlene replied, sighing. “Especially with her being a Muggle-born
herself.” The two girls stared over at the Slytherins for another few moments, neither of them quite
caring if the boys saw them, united in dislike.

“I hate them,” Mary said, her words full of venom as she glared at the Slytherins. “Ever since I
arrived at Hogwarts it’s been nothing but contempt and slurs from them. And all the other things,
too, from other people, like Slughorn saying how Lily and I are so good at Potions and he can’t
believe that we’re Muggle-born, or people thinking it’s a compliment to say that I must have a
magical ancestor hidden somewhere because I fit in so well with everyone here. It’s just a reminder
that deep down, lots of wizards will always see me as a second-class citizen. All of it is a part of
something much nastier, and one of these days it’s going to turn even worse. You know all the
stuff about Voldemort? People say he’ll never gain enough power to do what he wants to do, but I
wouldn’t be so sure.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Marlene agreed, nodding. “My father’s been saying for years that the
fact that prominent Ministry members are still blood purists, and believe all that bullshit,
influences policy and lets extremists like Voldemort gain power without being checked.”

“With people like that in power, we can’t change anything,” Mary said, sighing and turning back to
look at Marlene. For a moment, they let the words settle between them, a tired sort of hopelessness
feeling heavy on the air.

Then, suddenly remembering that she had somewhere to be, Mary looked down at her watch and
swore. “Fuck, I have my career meeting in five minutes! I have to go to McGonagall’s office.” She
snatched up her books from the grass and stuffed them in her bag haphazardly, smoothing her skirt
and brushing off the grass. “I’ll see you at dinner, alright?” she said to Marlene, waving at her
hurriedly before starting to run back to the castle.

“Good luck!” Marlene called after her, the serious moment between them shattered like glass.

Mary dashed up the lawn towards the castle steps, then ran straight through the oak front doors.
She ran through the entrance hall and down a hall lined with empty classrooms, hurrying towards
McGonagall’s office. Mary arrived, panting, outside her professor’s office, checked her watch, and
was relieved to see that she was right on time. She knocked on the door and heard McGonagall tell
her to come in. Pushing it open, Mary stepped into the office, where the professor sat behind her
desk, her hands folded in front of her. Mary hastily took her seat at the desk and looked expectantly
at her Head of House, feeling slightly nervous. Professor McGonagall was very strict, and Mary
had always been rather intimidated by her, especially as she didn’t consider Transfiguration to be
one of her strongest subjects.

“Well, Miss Macdonald, this meeting’s purpose is to discuss any ideas you might have about your
future career, and to determine which classes you may want to continue into your N.E.W.T. levels,”
Professor McGonagall said, looking down at Mary from behind her desk. “Do you have any
thoughts about what you might want to do after Hogwarts?”

“I’m not quite sure,” Mary admitted. “I looked over the pamphlets about careers, but there were so
many to choose from, and it was quite overwhelming, to be honest.”

Professor McGonagall gave her a kind smile, and Mary felt encouraged by this. “Well, perhaps we
should start with what your favorite subjects are. That might give you a jumping-off point to see
what you might want to delve into later.”

“Care of Magical Creatures,” Mary said immediately, not even pausing to think about it. “After
that, I guess I like Charms and Potions quite a bit, too.”

“If Care of Magical Creatures is your favorite, we can start there,” Professor McGonagall said,
shifting the papers in front of her and pulling out a page, her eyes scanning down it quickly. “There
are quite a few options in that area. There are plenty of jobs working at magical creature rescues,
like those for Dragons, Hippogriffs, and the like, or for organizations that fight for magical
creature rights. There’s also the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures in
the Ministry.”

“What kind of requirements do jobs like that have?” Mary asked, her ears perking up. These
sounded much more interesting than most of the jobs that she’d read about on the pamphlets in the
Gryffindor common room.

“Most of them require at least four N.E.W.T. subjects with a passing score,” McGonagall said.
“Care of Magical Creatures, of course, is the most important to do well in. As for the other
subjects, organizations aren’t too picky. Herbology and Potions are both very useful, I would say,
as both subjects are intrinsically linked to keeping magical creatures healthy. However, many of
these organizations rely heavily on interviews, seeing how the applicant interacts with the magical
creatures, and, of course, making sure that the applicant has a passion for helping them.”

“That sounds brilliant, actually,” Mary said, feeling much more hopeful than when she’d come
into the meeting. McGonagall gave her another rare smile.

“I doubt you should have any issues with the requirements,” she said kindly. “You’re a very bright
young woman, Miss Macdonald. Of course, you should work hard in studying for your O.W.L.s,
especially in Care of Magical Creatures, but Professor Kettleburn has noted that your work has
been exemplary in that subject for the last two years, so you shouldn’t have much trouble. I would
also recommend focusing on Herbology and Potions, and you may choose any additional subjects
to take for N.E.W.T.s at your leisure.”

“Do you think I have good enough marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration to
take them to N.E.W.T. level?” Mary asked. Professor McGonagall looked over her square-rimmed
glasses at Mary questioningly.

“I have graded you between an Acceptable and Exceeds Expectations in Transfiguration for the last
few years, so you should make sure to study hard if you want to receive the Exceeds Expectations
mark that I require to continue with Transfiguration in the future,” McGonagall said after a pause.
“And your last few Defense Against the Dark Arts professors have consistently given you Exceeds
Expectations on most tests, which is sufficient to continue. But I never got the impression that you
particularly enjoyed either of these subjects. Why do you wish to continue with them to
N.E.W.T.s?”

Mary met McGonagall’s piercing gaze steadily, taking a deep breath before answering, trying to
keep her voice calm and measured. “Professor, I want to do everything I can to prepare myself for
life after Hogwarts,” she began. “But there are things that I have to contend with within the castle,
too. I need to have the proper skills to deal with those as well.”

Professor McGonagall looked at her for a moment, then removed her spectacles and set them down
on her desk before looking back up at Mary, her eyes full of an emotion that Mary didn’t think
she’d ever seen in them before. Was it protectiveness?

“You are referring, I believe, to the incident that happened last week to Mr. Simmons?”

“I am,” Mary confirmed, continuing to meet her gaze. “I may not be the best in either Defense or
Transfiguration, but I know that both are useful subjects, and knowing more magic of any kind
might make the difference between my life and my death someday.”

McGonagall leaned back slightly in her chair, regarding Mary almost appraisingly, a frown on her
face. Then, she pushed a tin of ginger newts toward her. “Have a biscuit, Miss Macdonald,” she
said. Mary, though rather taken aback, took a cookie and bit into it tentatively. After a long
moment, as Mary chewed, McGonagall spoke again.
“I will not insult your intelligence by saying that your fears are unfounded, Mary,” she said, and
Mary was startled to hear McGonagall use her first name. “You are a Muggle-born, and that makes
some see you as a target in a way that others are not. I understand that you see the way in which the
world is changing, and you are in a unique place to truly understand what that might mean for you
in your life. I applaud your commitment to protecting yourself, even as I wish it wasn’t necessary.”

Mary nodded slowly, rather shocked that the professor was speaking to her like this, so candidly
and respectfully. McGonagall continued. “I can tell you that Professor Dumbledore, the rest of the
staff, and I are doing everything in our power to protect students like you from those who might
wish to harm you, but again, I must be honest and reveal that we often have very little power
against the governors when there is such limited evidence to work with. I wish I could reassure you
more.”

Mary took a moment to digest the information, examining McGonagall’s face across the desk.
“Thank you, Professor,” she replied finally. “For speaking so honestly with me, and not dismissing
my concerns.”

“Of course, Mary,” Professor McGonagall, giving her a rather motherly look before picking up her
spectacles and putting them back on. “Now, do you have any more questions about your career or
O.W.L.s?”

“No, thank you, Professor,” Mary said, smiling at her gratefully.

“Then you may go,” McGonagall said, giving Mary a slight smile before turning back to her
papers. “If Mr. Pettigrew is outside, you may send him in.”

Mary nodded, standing up from her chair and leaving the office. Peter was indeed standing outside,
looking a bit nervous, so Mary gave him an encouraging smile and nodded her head towards the
door, holding it open for him. “Professor McGonagall said that you can go in,” she told him, and
he smiled back gratefully before entering.

Mary continued down the corridor, lost in her thoughts about her conversation with McGonagall. It
was dinner time, so she made her way slowly to the Great Hall to meet the rest of her housemates.
Mary was relatively quiet at dinner, not participating much in the conversation as she sat with the
rest of the girls in her dormitory. Marlene seemed to notice this, leaning over to speak to her during
a lull in the chatter.

“How was your career advice session with McGonagall?”

Mary started at being addressed, as she’d been lost in her own thoughts. “Oh, it was good,” she
replied, giving Marlene a small smile. “She told me about a bunch of possibilities for careers in
Care of Magical Creatures-related fields, and I can mostly make up my mind on what to take for
N.E.W.T.s.”

“Sounds great,” Marlene said, grinning. “Do you think you want to go into the Ministry in the
Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, or something else?”

“I’d rather do more of the groundwork with magical creatures,” Mary said, thinking back to what
McGonagall had told her. “McGonagall said there are lots of rescues and sanctuaries for magical
creatures that need people to work there.”

“That sounds amazing!” Dorcas said cheerfully, joining their conversation, which she’d been
listening in on from Marlene’s left side. “Much more fun than a desk job. I’ve heard that there are
even dragon sanctuaries outside of the United Kingdom!”
Mary laughed. “I’m not sure I’m that punk rock that I’d want to look after wild dragons,” she
admitted. “Anyway, I’d like to stay in England if I can. It’d be nice to work with some of the
creatures we’ve learned about in Care of Magical Creatures so far, though, like unicorns, nifflers,
hippogriffs...you know, stuff like that. McGonagall said that a lot of the organizations incorporate
advocacy and activism for magical creature rights as well, which sounds interesting.”

“Well, at least I know one person who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures with me for
N.E.W.T.s,” Dorcas said, beaming at Mary. “That is, if I get the marks, I suppose.”

“Oh, hush,” Marlene said to her best friend, rolling her eyes and bumping Dorcas’ shoulder with
hers affectionately. “You and Mary are both amazing at Care of Magical Creatures. You two will
definitely get into the N.E.W.T. class. How many classes are you planning on taking for
N.E.W.T.s, though, Dee? You already have to do the same five that I have to do for Auror training
to be a Healer, but you keep going on about all your other subjects like you plan to continue them
all to N.E.W.T.s!”

“We’ll see,” Dorcas said, a slight smile on her face as she took a bite of her food, looking
thoughtful. “I’d definitely take all of them if I could!”

“You would need a Time-Turner or something to get all your work done,” Marlene said, shaking
her head in disbelief. Dorcas didn’t retort back, just grinned at Mary across the table
mischievously. Mary shook her head in amusement and went back to her dinner.

After a moment, Mary felt a strange prickling sensation on the back of her neck, accompanied by
the feeling that someone was watching her. She turned, scanning the Great Hall, and her eyes soon
landed on the Slytherin table, where Evan Rosier was giving her a malevolent stare. Mary turned
back quickly to face her plate, her heart beating fast. Just ignore him, she thought to herself. It
doesn’t mean anything.

....

Back in the girl’s dormitory that evening, Mary recounted what Professor McGonagall had told her
in her career advice session about the attack on Martin Simmons. There was a long silence as the
other girls digested her words before Hestia spoke up.

“So that confirms what Miranda told you, Mary,” she said, her dark eyes alight with anger. “The
governors stopped Dumbledore and the other professors from punishing those boys for what they
did!”

“Yeah, it seems that way,” Mary said, glad of Hestia’s anger, as it allowed her room to express her
own. “She didn’t say it was because of Mr. Avery, but it’s not like she can say something like that
explicitly to a student. I’m surprised she told me anything, frankly.”

“I can’t believe they didn’t even get detention, or house points taken away!” Hestia exclaimed, her
face screwed up in anger. “They used an Unforgivable Curse on that boy, and that’s supposed to
get you a life sentence in Azkaban, but they get away scot-free!”

“You’re brave for bringing it up to her,” Marlene said to Mary. “I’m just as surprised as you that
she told you anything, but I guess McGonagall’s unpredictable like that sometimes. I feel like she’s
on our side, though, most of the time. She’s strict, but she cares about students in a way that some
other professors don’t.”

“I wish that we could do more, here at Hogwarts,” Dorcas said, her eyes blazing, too. “Merlin, if I
could teach those boys a lesson! But I would just get detention for it. Ironic, isn’t it, that retaliating
will get us punished when they didn’t get any punishment for using dark magic on a second year?”

Mary nodded vigorously, the other girls in her dormitory making sounds of anger in response, too.
She turned to look at Lily, who had a very conflicted expression on her face. The redhead had been
uncharacteristically silent for the whole exchange, and something in her expression made Mary
want to poke.

“What do you think, Lily? You haven’t said anything.”

“Well, obviously I think it’s awful,” Lily said, turning to look back at Mary slightly defensively.
“Mulciber should be expelled for what he did, or imprisoned!”

“And what about the rest of them?” Mary asked, meeting her roommate’s eyes steadily. “What
about the other Slytherins who stood by and laughed when it was happening?” Mary knew that she
was picking a fight that would likely have no positive outcome, but at that moment, she didn’t care.
Lily looked back at her, her green eyes narrowed slightly.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Mary,” she replied finally, her tone reproachful.

Mary glared at Lily, her small hands clenching into fists by her sides. She hadn’t realized until that
moment, she thought, staring back at Lily, how furious she really was with her roommate. She was
practically shaking with anger, a thousand unkind words rushing through her mind as she stared
into Lily’s green eyes. She wanted to tell her exactly how stupid she was being, how blind. She
wanted to tell Lily that she was complicit because she was defending Snape, who’d been there and
seen it all happen. She wanted to shout at her, shake her, cry and hope that she’d understand. Mary
wanted Lily to see where she was coming from, stand by her, act for once like she was a Muggle-
born, too.

“I want you to explain to me how you can be friends with Snape after this,” Mary said instead,
trying to sound calm though her voice was tight with suppressed rage. “After he stood there and
watched this all happen.”

“You don’t know that he was there!” Lily defended, anger sparking in her gaze, crossing her arms
over her chest. “You don’t get to make baseless accusations like that!”

“Everyone knows he was there, Lily!” Mary exclaimed, her voice louder this time. “And even if he
wasn’t, he’s part of that little gang, isn’t he? He’s still friends with those boys, the ones who cursed
Simmons, isn’t he? Does he say anything to them while they call people like you and me
Mudbloods and curse them?”

“I don’t know, okay, Mary?” Lily retorted, her voice rising angrily as well. “How am I supposed to
know what he says to them, what he hears, what he does?”

“You’re supposed to know because you’re supposed to know what kind of person you’re friends
with!” Mary practically shouted back at her.

Dorcas, Marlene, Hestia, and Emmeline looked between them, their eyes traveling back and forth
between the two girls as they stood on either end of the dormitory, shouting at one another. Mary
knew that to them, this row was completely out of the blue, as Mary and Lily had always been
friendly with one another. They studied together in the library, they talked about their subjects and
their families at times, and they worked together in classes. But for Mary, this hurt and resentment
had been building for a long time.

“Of course I know who he is! He’s friends with me, isn’t he? That means he doesn’t care about
blood status!” Lily shouted back, turning red with anger.

“Does it, Lily?” Mary demanded. “Or does it mean that he’s content to think that you’re the
exception and treat every other Muggle-born like scum while he hopes you won’t notice? You’re a
hypocrite! Always yelling at James and Sirius for pranking people and hexing them for fun while
defending your precious Severus while he stands by and watches his friends use Unforgivable
Curses on second years because of their blood status!”

“That’s not the same thing!” Lily exclaimed, her face flushing now in embarrassment instead of
anger.

“Yes, that’s exactly my point, Lily!” Mary exclaimed, glaring at her. “There is no comparison at
all between immature stunts like the Marauders pull and actual dark magic that your friend Snape
is obsessed with!”

Lily stared at her for a moment, shocked, as all the other girls in the dormitory, including Mary,
stared at Lily. Lily looked around at them, meeting their eyes briefly before looking down, her
voice suddenly soft. “I don’t know what’s going on with him,” she admitted. “I’ve told him that I
don’t like his friends and what they’re getting him involved in, but he won’t listen to me. I don’t
know what to do.”

“It’s not just what his friends are getting him involved in, Lily,” Mary said, still angry, but finding
it hard to stay as furious as she wanted to be while Lily was looking so defeated. “I know you’ve
never wanted to hear it, but Snape has been interested in the Dark Arts ever since he arrived at
Hogwarts. He’s picked his side.”

“I don’t want to give up on him,” Lily said quietly.

“It’s not your job to convince him not to be a bigot,” Mary retorted. “It’s your job to protect the
people that he and his friends are victimizing. This is only the start. It could be me next, or you.
Remember that when you next defend him.”

Mary knew that her voice betrayed the fear that’d been creeping up behind her rage for the last
week, but she didn’t bother to conceal it. The other girls in her dormitory looked at her, their eyes
full of concern, but she ignored them and got onto her bed, pulling the curtains closed around her
before climbing under her covers. Mary slept restlessly that night, her dreams full of sneering
Slytherin boys, screams, and snakes.

....

Over the course of the next week, Mary continued to ignore Lily, and Lily didn’t try to talk to
Mary, either, though she sometimes cast her regretful glances. Emmeline, Hestia, Dorcas, and
Marlene didn’t seem to know what to do with their feuding friends, so they mostly left the two of
them alone, clearly hoping that they’d make up on their own at some point.

“What the hell is going on with you two?” Mary heard Remus ask Lily in Charms on Friday
morning, after he watched Mary take the seat furthest away from Lily, rather than her usual place
beside the redhead. Lily shrugged.

“She’s just—” Lily broke off, sighing. “We got in a row the other night because I’m still friends
with Severus after what happened to that Hufflepuff.”

Remus made a contemplative sound in his throat, just loud enough for Mary to hear, but he didn’t
elaborate. Mary recalled the conversation she’d had with Remus during the previous year, and
knew that he agreed with her stance on Snape, but was too tactful to say it to Lily in the middle of
class. Mary sighed and turned her attention to the task of the day, which was practicing substantive
charms, trying not to think about Lily or their argument.

Mary knew that not speaking to Lily wouldn’t accomplish anything, but she still couldn’t stand to
look at her and know that she was still friends with Snape. Mary thought that, deep down, Lily was
a good person with a good heart, but she was swayed because she’d known Snape for so long.
Mary knew it was a difficult situation, but it still angered her to hear Lily defend him, so she
resolved to wait to let herself cool down before going back to normal with her roommate.

It was the Monday following her row with Lily when Mary found herself walking alone back to the
dormitory. She’d volunteered to look in on the crup that they were studying in Care of Magical
Creatures, wanting to take more notes about its behavior, but also hoping to be able to play with it
a bit while Professor Kettleburn wasn’t watching, as it was quite cuddly. When the sun began to set
over the horizon, Mary shut the enclosure carefully behind her and made her way back up to the
castle, entering through the oak front doors and making a bee-line for the Grand Staircase, heading
up to Gryffindor Tower. As she mounted the stairs, Mary thought she heard a small sound behind
her, almost like a laugh. She paused, looking around, but saw no one, so she shrugged it off and
continued on her way.

It was only when she reached the landing of the third floor that she heard footsteps behind her.
Before she could turn, however, her body became very still, and she found she couldn’t move.
There was laughter behind her, louder this time, and she heard the sounds of multiple sets of feet
getting closer. It was only when they reached the landing and formed a menacing line in front of
her that Mary saw who they were, and her insides seemed to become even more solid than they’d
been already, frozen with fear.

Standing in front of her were all the Slytherin boys who’d attacked Martin Simmons the previous
week. There were Mulciber and Avery, the two sixth-year boys who seemed to be the ringleaders,
looking menacing at the front of the group. Behind them was Evan Rosier, the fifth-year Slytherin
prefect who’d given her a malicious look a few days before in the Great Hall, Severus Snape,
Lily’s best friend, and three other boys who she now knew were called Macnair, Wilkes, and
Travers. They were all significantly taller than she was and sneered down at her. Some of the
younger boys looked rather excited, as if they were about to witness a spectacle.

“So,” Avery said silkily, an evil grin curling his mouth, “out a bit late, aren’t you, Macdonald?”
Mary struggled to retort, her insides now boiling with rage, but she was still immobile. He laughed
coldly. “What was that, Mudblood? Didn’t quite catch that.”

He waved his wand, and Mary’s body was suddenly free to move again. She clenched her fists and
glared up at him. “Fuck you,” she spat at him, and moved to escape, running towards the next
staircase towards her dorm, but Rosier grabbed her arm and flung her back, causing her to trip and
fall. Mary sprawled sideways onto the stone floor, catching herself with her hands before she could
hit her head on the ground. The boys’ cruel laughter rang in her ears as she tried to lift herself up,
the sound loud and echoing off the walls. A foot came down on one of her ankles, keeping her on
the ground, and she tossed her long, dark hair out of her eyes, looking up at them defiantly. Avery
was standing directly in front of her, grinning like a hyena looking at its prey, his foot pressing
down painfully on her ankle, preventing her from moving.

“We heard that you’ve been quite vocal in your distaste of our little game with that Hufflepuff the
other week,” Avery said casually, smiling in cold amusement as she tried to push him off of her,
his pressure on her ankle relentless. “We thought you might want a little taste of what we did to
Simmons since you’re so eager to discuss the event with others. Maybe it’ll teach you to keep your
mouth shut.”

As he spat the last word, he slashed his wand through the air, causing her body to flip over on the
ground, leaving her on her back as the boys’ laughter redoubled. Now released from Avery’s
pressure on her ankle, Mary took the opportunity to leap to her feet, pulling out her wand from her
robes and raising it. Almost as soon as it was in her hand, however, it was torn from her grasp.

“Expelliarmus!” Rosier said almost lazily, causing her wand to fly out of her hand and fall several
steps down the staircase, far out of her reach. They advanced on her then, closing even tighter
around her as she stared helplessly at them. Avery laughed again, a cold, cruel sound.

“Think you can get away from us so easily, bitch?” he asked, slashing his wand again and causing
her to flip over, landing painfully on her side on the ground, her head hitting the ground hard,
dazing her. As she looked up at them again, she realized that they were slowly driving her closer to
the top of the staircase, backing her toward the end of the landing.

“What do you think we should make her do?” Avery asked Mulciber, who was grinning down at
her hungrily. “Dash her brains out against one of the castle walls? Throw herself down the stairs?
Display her knickers to the world? I suppose that one we might not need the Imperious Curse for,
though,” he said disdainfully, glancing down at her. Mary realized that her skirt had risen up her
thighs significantly during her last fall, and hastily pushed the hem back down, her cheeks flaming
with anger and shame as the Slytherin boys cawed with cruel laughter.

“Fuck you,” she snarled up at her attackers. “Fuck you, you vile, cruel, pig-headed, arse-faced,
inbred, bastard sons of—”

Her head whipped to the side as a flash of jagged pain ran through her cheek, effectively silencing
her. When she lifted her hand to her face, it came away bloody. “Nice one,” she heard Avery say to
someone in the background. She turned her head to face them again slowly, trying to keep the tears
that had welled up in her eyes at the cut from falling.

“Well, what do you think, Macdonald?” Avery asked, crouching down beside her and running his
fingers down a lock of her hair, smirking cruelly at her as she flinched away from his touch. “Care
to take a tumble down the Grand Staircase of Hogwarts? It would be quite convenient for us, you
know. You might break your neck at the bottom, or you’d hit your head so many times that you
wouldn’t even remember what happened here.”

The other boys laughed again behind Avery, and he stood up, grinning, backing away from her as
Mulciber advanced, his wand extended, ready to cast the spell. “You know, Macdonald, it’s not a
bad way to go,” Mulciber said, sneering at her. “I’ve heard that being under the Imperious Curse
can feel quite euphoric at first, not that I’ve ever experienced it. You won’t even realize what’s
happening until it’s all over.”

Mary glared up at them all, knowing that there was no escape, no way out. Were they truly going
to kill her, or were they bluffing? Mary didn’t know, but either way, she had no power at all to
determine her fate. She thought briefly of Lily, and Mary’s words to her the previous week. It
could be me next, or you. She tasted coppery blood in her mouth from the cut on her cheek and
swallowed down the bile in her stomach. She refused to look away, refused to cry, refused to beg.
She’d stare Mulciber down until he imperioused her, until she couldn’t anymore.

Mulciber raised his wand, his mouth beginning to form the curse, and Mary had to use all her
courage not to close her eyes. At that moment, however, a noise sounded from behind the
Slytherins, and several of them cried out in surprise as they heard two deafening shouts of
“Expelliarmus!”
Mulciber turned mid-curse, and his wand, along with those of several of the other Slytherins, flew
out of his hand. Mulciber swore, hurrying to find his fallen weapon. Through the commotion, Mary
could see two figures wearing Gryffindor colors with raised wands, and she let out a tired sob of
relief.

“Potter! Black!” Avery snarled, his wand still in his hand, facing them. “Do you really think that
you can take us all on?”

“Do you really want to try us?” Mary heard someone who she thought was James—her head was
still feeling a bit fuzzy from its collision with the stone floor—respond, his voice loud and angry.
“I’d recommend you get out of here before a teacher comes.”

There was a moment of silence, where Avery glared at Sirius and James, who glared right back,
fury in both of their faces. Then, Avery nodded to the other Slytherins, who had by then retrieved
their fallen wands, and they all walked off down the stairs past her, the sounds of their footsteps
receding. Sirius continued to point his wand threateningly at their retreating backs, watching to
make sure they didn’t return, while James raced down the stairs towards Mary.

“Fuck, Mary, are you alright?” he asked, his voice frantic, full of fear and concern. She tried to
peer into his face, but her head ached and her eyes had trouble focusing on him. She could feel the
cut on her cheek pulsing with pain, too.

“James…” she said softly, feeling very weak all of a sudden, her head feeling heavy. He leaned
forward just in time to catch her head as it fell back, her body collapsing onto the ground. She
heard more footsteps, Sirius hurrying towards them.

“Shit, Mary!” James said, leaning over her face frantically. “Mary, stay awake, please! We’re
going to get you to the Hospital Wing, okay, but you need to stay awake! Can you do that?”

Mary hummed slightly in assent, though she was very, very tired, and felt James hoist her up into
his arms. She was rather surprised at how strong he was, but he didn’t seem to have trouble
carrying her. As he moved to walk down the staircase, she remembered her wand. “James...my
wand, James…” she mumbled softly, her voice weak.

“Sirius, can you pick up Mary’s wand?” James asked in a strained voice, and Mary heard Sirius
stoop to pick it up off the floor as James began to hurry down the staircase as quickly as he dared,
Sirius following in his footsteps. Mary imagined that Sirius still had his wand out, covering James
just in case, as the taller boy carried Mary like a rag doll down the stairs. The trip felt very short,
and soon they were at the doors of the Hospital Wing. Sirius banged on them loudly with both fists
as James looked down at Mary, his breathing heavy with the exertion of running with her.

After less than a minute, the doors were flung open by Madam Pomfrey. “Mr. Black, what on earth
do you need at this time of—” she broke off, obviously spotting Mary in James’ arms. “Oh, dear!”
Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, her voice full of shock and concern. “Bring her in immediately, Mr.
Potter, and put her down on this bed here.”

Mary felt herself being laid gently on a soft bed, and the matron bustling around to her side to
examine her. “What on earth happened?” Mary heard Madam Pomfrey ask faintly as she felt
something brush her cheek, a stinging sensation forming as something was dripped onto her cut.

“We don’t know exactly,” James explained. “We found her on the landing of the third floor, with
seven Slytherin boys around her, taunting her. She was on the ground, bleeding, but we don’t know
exactly what they did to her.”
Mary heard Madam Pomfrey make a shocked and distressed noise in her throat, and then a bright
light, probably wandlight, shone into her eyes. After a moment, it went dark again. “Looks like she
has a concussion,” Madam Pomfrey said. “She hit her head.”

“Will she be alright?” Sirius asked, his voice sounding more somber and nervous than Mary had
ever heard it before.

“I think she will be fine in due course,” Madam Pomfrey replied. “The cut on her cheek should be
repairable, though it was deep. She will have to stay here for a few more days, however, to heal the
concussion. It’s very lucky that you boys found her when you did.”

The sound receded from Mary’s ears, becoming quieter. Her promise to James was fulfilled, and
she felt so leaden she couldn’t stop herself from falling unconscious this time. Her eyelids fluttered
closed, and the world went black around her.
 1976: Second-Class Citizen, Part 2
Chapter Notes

cw: throwing up, discussions of trauma and discrimination

Mary awoke forty-two hours later as sunlight shone through her eyelids, creating a warm, orange
glow. The first thing she registered were the sounds of voices around her, and her eyes fluttered
open to see an unfamiliar ceiling above her, rather than the top of her four-poster bed in the girls’
dormitory. She sat up quickly, looking around in confusion, and as she did so, a sharp pain shot
through her head, making her put a hand to it.

“Whoa, Mary, calm down. You’re safe,” said a voice by her bedside, and Mary felt a comforting
hand on her shoulder. When she looked to see the owner of the hand, Mary took in the dark hair,
warm olive skin, and dark brown eyes of Hestia Jones, who was staring back at her in concern.

“Lie back down, Mac, you’re not supposed to be up yet,” said another voice, and Mary glanced to
her other side to see Emmeline Vance’s long, light brown locks, pale skin, and serious brown eyes
gazing back at her. Reaching behind Mary, Emmeline arranged her pillows so that she was propped
up, and Mary leaned against them, looking back and forth between her two friends.

“What’s going on?” Mary asked. She registered the white bed frame and sheets, as well as the
screens that shielded her bed, and knew that she was in the Hospital Wing, but at that moment, she
couldn’t recall why she was there.

Hestia looked at her apprehensively. “Don’t you—don’t you remember what happened?”

Mary shook her head slightly but winced as she did so, finding that her neck was stiff and painful.
Hestia and Emmeline exchanged a glance, but Emmeline was the one to speak first. “James and
Sirius found you,” she said quietly. “Those Slytherin boys—Avery and Mulciber and the rest of
them, you know—they were…” Emmeline trailed off, looking at a loss for words, her calm
expression faltering for a moment as she stared down at Mary.

“They attacked you,” Hestia finished for her, glancing over at Emmeline.

Emmeline’s words triggered something in Mary’s mind and tears filled her eyes as the memory of
the previous night flashed in front of them. It was like she was there all over again: being frozen in
place, the boys taunting her and flinging her around, making her hit her head, slashing her cheek,
threatening to force her to throw herself down the stairs...Mary brought her hand up to her face and
found only a rough line of skin where the open wound had been. She lowered her hand, trying to
blink away her tears as she looked at her friends.

“I remember,” she said quietly, her voice shaking.

“Madam Pomfrey says that the scar should fade over time. She’s been applying a potion to it,”
Hestia said, trying to reassure Mary, though looking quite helpless as she gazed at her bedridden
friend.

“How long have I been in here?”

“Almost two days,” Emmeline replied cautiously. “It’s Wednesday afternoon.”

“And the Slytherin boys who attacked me? Please tell me they’ve been expelled,” Mary demanded,
but she knew the answer already before Hestia gave it.

“Nothing’s happened to them,” Hestia replied, her expression a mixture of sadness and carefully
suppressed anger. “Obviously James and Sirius told the teachers what they saw, but the Slytherins
are denying everything. Since you weren’t awake before now, they had to wait to see what you
remembered before giving out any punishments.”

Mary closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her left temple where she’d hit her head as another
shooting pain went through it. “Are you alright, Mary?” Emmeline asked, sounding worried. “Are
you in pain?”

Mary shook her head slightly, not to deny her friend’s question, but just because she needed
everything to be quiet for a moment. The sounds hurt her ears. Bile rose in her throat, and she
leaned over the side of her bed and puked onto the stone floor, her stomach heaving. Hestia scooted
her chair back hastily, avoiding being splattered by the vomit. She jumped to her feet and hurried
out past the screens, no doubt to call Madam Pomfrey, while Emmeline rose and pulled back
Mary’s hair so she wouldn’t get sick in it, too. Mary’s nausea subsided quickly, to be replaced with
tears, the sobs racking her body and making her head hurt even more. Emmeline sat on the edge of
her bed, holding Mary’s smaller body to her own taller frame and cradling her as she cried.

After a moment, Hestia reappeared with Madam Pomfrey, who quickly vanished the vomit and
hurried to Mary’s side. “Where does it hurt, Miss Macdonald?”

“My head,” Mary said through her tears, still leaning on Emmeline’s shoulder.

“You sustained a significant concussion, Mary,” Madam Pomfrey said kindly. “It will take a few
more days to heal. Now that you’re awake, I can give you some potions to speed up the process,
but you should avoid stimulation until you’re fully alright again,” she said, then rounded on Hestia
and Emmeline accusingly. “What has upset her?”

Hestia shook her head, looking helpless. “When she woke up, she didn’t seem to remember
anything. She started to cry when she did remember and asked whether the Slytherins who attacked
her were being punished, so we told her that they weren’t being, and…” She trailed off at the
furious look that Madam Pomfrey was giving her.

“Alright, out, both of you!” Madam Pomfrey said sharply. “She needs rest, not further cause to be
upset. You and her other friends may come back tomorrow if she’s better by then.”

Emmeline and Hestia both nodded, looking ashamed of themselves, and Emmeline gently
disengaged herself from Mary, laying the smaller girl back on her pillows as she rose from the bed.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Mac, okay?” Hestia said, looking quite distraught as she looked down at
Mary. Mary knew from all their stares that she must truly look awful, but she didn’t much care. She
nodded feebly, and they filed out.

Madam Pomfrey stood with her hands on her hips, watching the two girls leave, then bustled away,
returning within a minute with a goblet of potion in each hand. She handed the first to Mary.

“Drink this, it will help with the pain and nausea,” she said, and Mary downed it in one gulp,
grimacing slightly at the unpleasant taste. “This one will help to heal your concussion more
quickly,” Madam Pomfrey added, handing her the other goblet, which Mary gulped down, too,
relieved that this one didn’t taste unpleasant, instead reminding her of honey and something
flowery.

“They should both kick in within a minute or two,” Madam Pomfrey said, sitting down in
Emmeline’s deserted chair and regarding Mary, her young face crumpling slightly into lines of
worry. Mary had never thought much about how old the matron was before, but at that moment,
Madam Pomfrey’s expression of a woman completely out of her depth made Mary realize that she
was probably only in her late twenties. The way she looked at Mary made Mary recall the way she
herself had stared at Martin Simmons the previous week, as if he wasn’t just a boy, but a sign of
terrible things to come, which she was powerless to stop.

“Can I have some water?” Mary asked hoarsely, partly searching for an excuse for Madam
Pomfrey to look away from her.

“Of course,” the matron replied, rising to take the glass from Mary’s bedside table and pointing her
wand at it so that it filled with cool, clear water, which Mary gulped down gratefully. Once she’d
drained it, Mary looked up at Madam Pomfrey again.

“May I speak with Professor McGonagall or Professor Dumbledore?” she asked, her voice shaking
slightly even as she said it. Madam Pomfrey looked down at her sympathetically but shook her
head.

“Mary, I understand that this experience has been extremely upsetting for you—”

“You don’t know anything,” Mary interrupted her, not caring at the moment whether she sounded
rude or not. “You can’t know, because you weren’t there and you don’t know what happened.
That’s why I have to speak with Professor McGonagall or the headmaster because those boys can’t
go walking around after what they did to me.”

“I understand that,” Madam Pomfrey said carefully. “But I’m afraid you’re not well enough to talk
to either Professor Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall today. However, I will tell them to come
visit you tomorrow, so that you may speak with them first thing in the morning when you wake up.
Is that alright?”

“I suppose it has to be,” Mary replied, sighing and relaxing back onto her pillows. Her head really
did feel a lot better than it had a minute before.

“I am going to give you a potion for dreamless sleep,” Madam Pomfrey said, standing up again and
opening the bedside cabinet, taking out a bottle, and pouring it for Mary. “It will help you rest and
heal.”

“Okay,” Mary agreed, too tired to resist. She downed the potion and immediately felt her eyelids
drooping. Madam Pomfrey rearranged her pillows once again so that she could lay comfortably,
and the moment that Mary’s head hit them, she fell back into unconsciousness.

....

The next morning, Mary woke without a headache, feeling much better than she had the day
before. The slight dawn light that filtered through the drapes didn’t hurt her eyes anymore, either,
and she propped herself up in bed, looking around. On her bedside table were a glass of water and a
tray of food, no doubt brought by house-elves, which she eagerly wolfed down, realizing how
hungry she was. Mary guessed it was natural. She hadn’t eaten since dinner on Monday, after all,
and it was Thursday morning.
When she’d finished her food, Mary stood and slid into the slippers next to her bed, tiptoeing to the
bathroom near Madam Pomfrey’s office. After using the toilet, she examined her face in the small
mirror. Mary was shocked at her appearance: she was very pale, and the shadows under her eyes
stood out sharply, looking almost purple, like bruises. The scar on her cheek, which followed the
line of her cheekbone, was thin and red against her skin. It’d obviously been very deep, or else
Madam Pomfrey would’ve been able to heal it without any scarring at all. Mary hoped that
whatever potion Madam Pomfrey was using on it would make it disappear completely, as she
didn’t want to have to remember the incident every time she looked in the mirror.

Mary shuffled back to her bed after closing the lavatory door behind her and climbed back under
the sheets. It must be very early, she thought, as Madam Pomfrey wasn’t awake yet. She lay in her
bed, looking up at the ceiling, thinking. Against her will, memories of the attack flashed before her
eyes again: Avery’s sneering voice, the mocking laughter of the other boys, Mulciber’s greedy
look, her head hitting the stone floor...She shut her eyes tight, trying to rid her mind of the images.
One thing was impossible to remove from her mind, however, and that was the overwhelming
terror.

Mary’s position in the magical community had never felt as real to her as it had in that moment.
She remembered when Professor McGonagall had arrived at her door with her Hogwarts letter to
inform Mary, her pregnant mother, and her bemused stepfather that she was a witch and had been
accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Mary had never understood, before
that moment, why she could do things like make pencils float and flowers bloom at will, but she’d
been almost giddy with excitement at the prospect of attending magic school.

After the initial shock, both her parents had encouraged her to go to Hogwarts, all of them shopping
at Diagon Alley together for her school supplies, and then saying goodbye to her tearfully at
platform nine and three-quarters at the start of her first year at Hogwarts. Mary never would’ve
imagined that, upon arriving at the magical school, she’d suddenly realize that she was—and
would likely always be—a second-class citizen in the community she was now a part of.

Before coming to Hogwarts, Mary had already been used to people looking at her differently
because of her race. She’d been used to not having anyone who looked like her in her primary
school, used to people from her town giving her family strange, hostile looks in public. She’d
hoped that being magical would mean being accepted, that her differences wouldn’t matter
anymore. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

As her hand traced over the scar on her cheekbone again, Mary thought bitterly that no one had
ever told her that she’d signed up to die when she’d decided to go to Hogwarts, all those years ago.
Were they really going to kill me? Mary asked herself once again, staring up at the ceiling, her
fingers moving back and forth along the mark as she recalled Avery and Mulciber taunting her,
telling her that they were going to make her throw herself down the Grand Staircase to her death.

Right now, they were probably hoping that she’d hit her head so hard that she wouldn’t be able to
recall what’d happened. Well, joke’s on them, Mary thought bitterly. I remember every goddamn
moment of it, and I’m going to use those memories to nail them to the wall.

Just then, she heard a door open and the sound of the matron bustling over to her bed. A moment
later, Madam Pomfrey appeared around the screen. Finding her awake, she went to check the scar
on Mary’s cheek, dabbing a bit more potion onto it.

“How does your head feel?” the matron asked, peering into her eyes.

“Much better,” Mary replied earnestly. “I don’t have a headache at all this morning. Please, Madam
Pomfrey, can I see the headmaster now?”
“Very well,” Madam Pomfrey conceded. “I’ll go and call him. Be warned that your headache will
probably come back over the course of the day, especially if you exert yourself. Tell me when it
does, and I’ll give you more potion for the pain.”

“I will,” Mary agreed eagerly, just relieved that she was finally going to get to tell her story.
Madam Pomfrey gave her another dose of the sweet-tasting potion she’d given her the day before,
then bustled off to summon Dumbledore. Mary leaned back on her pillows, closing her eyes as she
waited, trying to think of nothing even as disturbing images kept popping into her mind.

Madam Pomfrey came back ten minutes later, Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall following
in her wake. They sat down beside Mary’s bedside, and Mary couldn’t help but think how strange
they both looked, sitting on either side of her hospital bed, their long robes pooled at their feet. The
expressions on their faces were serious, and after their brief inquiries about her health, Mary
launched into her story.

Dumbledore listened silently as he regarded her over the top of his half-moon spectacles.
McGonagall, on the other hand, made small noises of outrage or distress at various points in the
story, sometimes interjecting a question or two. As Mary spoke, McGonagall regarded her with the
same strange maternal air that Mary had found so out-of-place for her strict Transfiguration
professor during her career advice session the previous week.

When she’d finished, they was a moment’s silence while both Mary and Professor McGonagall
looked at Dumbledore, who seemed to be thinking over everything she’d said. Then, he spoke.

“I’m very sorry that you had to undergo this terrible ordeal, Miss Macdonald,” he said, gazing at
her, his light blue eyes gentle. “Your bravery is most admirable, even more so that you made it a
priority to tell us what happened after the fact. Your story matches what Mr. Potter and Mr. Black
both told me, and I am going to do everything in my power to have all those at fault punished for
their role in the attack on you.”

“Can you expel them?” Mary asked, her voice shaking slightly. “You know they were going to put
an Unforgivable Curse on me, just like they did to Martin Simmons, and they said they were going
to kill me. If James and Sirius hadn’t turned up when they did, I could be dead.”

“The power is not always mine alone to do these things, Mary,” Professor Dumbledore said gently.
“As I believe Minerva explained to you when you had a conversation last week. Rest assured, they
will be punished.”

Mary nodded, feeling hollow. She knew what that meant. The governors would no doubt argue that
they hadn’t actually used an Unforgivable Curse on her, and insist that they be allowed to stay at
Hogwarts.

“I will personally make sure that none of those boys ever speaks to you again within these walls,
Mary,” Professor McGonagall said, her tone hard but her gaze gentle as she looked at Mary, who
was working hard to suppress the tears building at the back of her eyes. Both adults stood to leave.

“I wish you a speedy recovery,” Professor Dumbledore said, giving Mary a smile as he turned to
go. “And good luck on your O.W.L.s.” He gave her a small wink, and turned, his robes swishing
behind him as he left the Hospital Wing, Professor McGonagall in his wake.

Mary received a steady stream of visitors throughout the rest of the day. Alice Fortescue came by
first, sitting with her for a few minutes before her lessons. She didn’t ask Mary what had happened
—Mary supposed that the story had leaked through the school fast enough for her to already know
—just asked her how she was feeling, and they talked for a few minutes about school, Alice telling
Mary about her hopes of becoming Head Girl the following year.

Before she left, Alice looked at Mary with an uncharacteristically fierce expression on her face and
said: “I know I can’t do much, but I’ll do everything in my power as a prefect to make their lives a
living hell.”

Mary gave her a small, surprised smile. “Thank you, Alice,” she replied genuinely. “I don’t want
you to stick your neck out for me, though.”

“I want to,” Alice insisted, giving Mary’s hand a squeeze. “Those boys are evil. What they did to
you was disgusting, and if I can do even the smallest thing about it, I will.”

“Thanks,” Mary repeated, warmth spreading through her chest at the sentiment. “And thanks for
visiting me.”

Alice’s round face broke into a smile, a sharp departure from her fierce expression. “Of course,
Mary. You’d do the same for me,” she said simply, and Mary smiled.

Alice said goodbye and went off to class, and Miranda came in next, bringing with her a bouquet of
wildflowers from the grounds. The two girls spent a while talking, as Miranda didn’t have classes
that morning. They skirted the topic of what’d happened, and Mary was glad of it. She liked just
talking about normal things like they were just two normal teenage girls living in a normal world.
Miranda always made Mary feel like her friends back home did, and she was grateful.

Miranda left around lunchtime, and Mary had barely ten minutes to herself before she got an
unexpected pair of visitors: James and Sirius. With them, they’d brought a large selection of
Honeydukes sweets, which Mary couldn’t even imagine how they’d gotten a hold of, given that
it’d been weeks since their last Hogsmeade weekend. The two boys, just like Miranda and Alice,
didn’t ask for details of the attack, but Mary told them what’d happened before they’d arrived
anyway. They’d saved her, after all, and she thought that if anyone deserved to know the whole
story, they did. After she was finished, they shared a meaningful look.

“What?” Mary demanded.

“You didn’t see who cast the curse that cut your cheek, did you?” James asked carefully. Mary
shook her head, looking from one to the other in puzzlement.

“No, but I know it wasn’t Avery, because he said “nice one” to someone behind him after it
happened. It could’ve been any of them.”

“We think it was Snape,” Sirius said, his eyes narrowed. “He invented a curse called
Sectumsempra which leaves cuts like that. It cuts deep, the wounds bleed uncontrollably and often
scar because they’re cursed wounds, not normal ones. He gave me one like that a couple of months
ago when we were dueling.” Sirius rolled up his sleeve to show Mary a thin, pink scar on his
forearm.

Mary paled, and James hurried to reassure her. “Yours might not scar, though. We never went to
Pomfrey for Sirius’, because we couldn’t get caught dueling, so it didn’t heal as cleanly as yours.”

“It’s not that,” Mary replied, shaking her head. “I just can’t believe Lily still sticks up for him. He’s
rotten to the core, everyone can see that. Is she still going to deny it after this?” Mary realized that
she was shaking again as she said it, from some unquantifiable mixture of fear and anger. James
reached out tentatively and covered her hand with his, a comforting gesture that surprised her.

“She’ll realize eventually,” he said. His voice sounded sad, Mary thought, which surprised her, too.
She’d grown used to seeing James make a fool of himself around Lily over the past year, but the
emotion in his eyes this time wasn’t guarded by a show of cocky bravado. It was real.

The boys stood to leave after a moment, clearly not wanting to overstay their welcome. As they
turned to go, however, Mary called them back. “Wait,” she said, making them turn towards her
again, puzzled, and Mary bit her lip, feeling a bit embarrassed. She’d never spoken many words to
either of them in the five years that they’d attended wizarding school together, but now she felt like
she’d never look at them the same way again.

“You two saved me,” she said, her hands knotted in her blanket. She gave them a small, sheepish
smile. “Thank you. I could’ve died if you hadn’t been there, and you stopped it, so... thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank us, Mary,” James said, giving her a sheepish grin. “Any decent person
would have done what we did.”

“It’s just lucky we were on our way down to the kitchens at the right moment,” Sirius added,
grinning at her, too. “Thank Remus’ craving for late-night chocolate eclairs, not us.”

Mary laughed for the first time since she’d been attacked and watched them as they ducked out of
the Hospital Wing, leaving her to take another pain potion for her headache—which had renewed
itself from the events of the day thus far—and fall back asleep. When she awoke next, it was
afternoon, and there were five concerned faces clustered around her bed.

“I’m surprised you convinced Madam Pomfrey to let you all in at once,” Mary said, smiling around
at her roommates as she pushed herself into a sitting position.

“Well, it took a bit of sweet-talking on all of our parts,” Hestia said with a smile. “She was
especially reluctant to let me and Em back in, I’ll tell you, after yesterday.”

“How’re you feeling?” Dorcas asked, looking at Mary in concern.

“I’m okay,” Mary reassured her. “My head hurts on and off, but I feel much better than yesterday. I
should be able to go back to classes after the weekend, Madam Pomfrey says.”

“That’s good,” Marlene said. “We can all do some of your homework for you, so you won’t have a
mountain of it when you get back.”

Mary smiled. “I might take you up on that for History of Magic,” she said. “The rest of it I should
do myself, though. I have to know the information for O.W.L.s.” There was a rather strained
silence, and Mary knew what was on all of their minds.

“You can ask, you know,” she said. “I don’t mind.”

They all shared another quick glance, and it was Emmeline who spoke, in the end. “What
happened, Mary?” the tall girl asked, her anxious brown eyes trained on Mary’s face, which was
beginning to regain a little more color than it’d done the day before. Mary gave her a small, sad
smile and recounted what’d happened to them briefly. She didn’t have the energy to tell the
detailed story anymore, and they didn’t need to know. When she was done, they all stared at her,
their eyes full of sympathy.

“You’re more of a Gryffindor than I could’ve ever been in that situation,” Hestia said finally. “I
can’t even imagine…”

“Hopefully you won’t have to,” Mary said, giving her friend a tired smile. “I can’t get it out of my
head,” she admitted. “Whenever I close my eyes, I can hear them laughing.”
“It’ll get better,” Dorcas said, her voice full of an assurance that Mary knew she didn’t really feel,
but Mary was grateful for it nevertheless. Dorcas reached over to take Mary’s hand in hers, giving
it a comforting squeeze. After a moment, Mary looked past the other girls towards the only person
who hadn’t spoken yet. Lily was looking down at her hands, white and clasped in her lap.

“Did you see what he did to me?” Mary asked, gesturing to her cheek. Her voice wasn’t angry as
she addressed Lily. She didn’t have the energy for anger anymore. Instead, it was flat and
expressionless, demanding that Lily acknowledge the pain that someone she loved had inflicted
upon her. Lily looked up and finally met Mary’s eyes, and Mary saw that her emerald pair were
full of tears.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, her gaze flicking from Mary’s brown eyes to the scar on her
cheekbone. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Mary replied tiredly. “Just remember this the next time you try to defend him.”

....

Madam Pomfrey let Mary out of the Hospital Wing on Sunday afternoon. She retreated to the
Gryffindor girls’ dormitory to catch up on her schoolwork, Marlene bringing her food up from
dinner so that Mary didn’t have to descend to the Great Hall herself. Her scar had receded so that it
lay pale against her skin, almost but not quite invisible. Madam Pomfrey had given Mary the
potion to keep applying to it, but even she admitted that it was unlikely to fade much more.

Mary heard from Hestia that all of the Slytherin boys involved in the attack were getting detention
for the rest of the school year, with two hundred points docked from Slytherin house. As she’d
expected, Dumbledore hadn’t been able to convince the governors to expel or suspend them.
Luckily, Mulciber and Avery would only be around another year, though the rest of them would be
there to haunt her until she graduated herself. Whether it was because Professor McGonagall was
keeping her promise or because the boys were smart enough not to try to go near her, Mary didn’t
interact with any of them over the course of the next few weeks. Mary focused her energy on
studying for her approaching O.W.L.s, trying to use the information she was learning to crowd out
the dark thoughts and memories that kept racing through her brain.

Though Mary and Lily were still not on the best of terms as the year drew to a close, there wasn’t
as much anger between them as a strange feeling of separation, as if the two girls didn’t quite know
how to relate to one another anymore. However, one day in the library, Mary overheard a
conversation that made her feel slightly better about it all. She was looking for a book to review for
her Transfiguration O.W.L. when she heard urgent whispers behind a nearby shelf, freezing as she
realized that it was Lily’s voice that issued from between the stacks.

“Can’t you tell I’m scared?” Lily demanded, her voice only slightly muffled by the shelves
between them. “I’m scared, Severus.”

“You don’t have a reason to be scared,” Snape replied after a brief pause, his voice flat. “You’re
not in any danger.” A shiver ran down Mary’s spine at the sound of his voice, expressionless and
distant, her hand going involuntarily to her cheek.

“And you know that how, exactly?” Lily snapped back. “Because you have some in with the
people who are attacking Muggle-borns around the school?”

“Lily—”

“No, Severus!” Lily exclaimed. “The way you brushed me off the other day when I tried to talk to
you about what happened to Mary...you called it all a joke! It’s like I don’t even know who you are
anymore.”

Mary was taken aback by Lily’s words, sharp with pain and disgust. She peered through the
bookshelves to look at the pair. Lily was standing a few feet away from Snape, and the look on her
face was both fearful and angry as she glared at her best friend. Mary didn’t think she’d ever seen
Lily get angry at Snape before. She’d barely said one negative thing about him since arriving at
Hogwarts.

“You don’t understand what it’s like to be me right now,” Lily continued, speaking more softly
again and looking around surreptitiously for eavesdroppers. Mary ducked back down so that Lily
would not see her staring from between the books. “I’m scared for my safety, being a Muggle-born,
yet I’m trying to defend you to everyone I know, defend myself for being friends with you, and I
don’t even know if that’s the right thing to do. I don’t know who to trust.”

There was a pause. Mary strained her ears, not wanting to miss Snape’s response.

“You can trust me,” Snape replied, a sulky note in his voice. “Tell me you’re not doubting me
now.”

“I’m not convinced that it’s actually you that’s on my side anymore,” Lily said quietly. “And not
them.”

“Your Gryffindor friends?” Snape asked, and Mary imagined him sneering, though she couldn’t
see his face anymore. “They just want to turn you against me.”

“You’re turning me against you,” Lily said, the bite back in her voice.

“Well, I’m not sure what to do about that, Lily,” Snape replied, his voice cold. “If you’re letting
them cloud your judgment—”

“Maybe you could try, for once, to stand up for me in the way that I’ve stood up for you since first
year!” Lily snapped. “That might be nice!”

Mary heard a loud thump, presumably Lily forcefully jamming her book back into the bookshelf,
then her footsteps. Mary scrambled away from the shelf quickly, not wanting to look like she’d
been listening in to their conversation. As Lily stormed out from between the shelves, she didn’t
glance at Mary, her long dark red hair streaming out behind her.

After Mary had overheard the conversation, the ice between Lily and Mary thawed slightly. Mary
joined Remus and Lily in studying in the library again, something she hadn’t done for several
weeks, and things became markedly less awkward between them in the dormitory. However, Mary
knew that Lily still looked at her with guilt in her eyes, and part of her still wanted Lily to feel
guilty. Even if it wasn’t her fault, even if, as Mary now suspected, Severus was manipulating Lily
into staying friends with him, part of her still resented the red-haired girl for defending him, even if
it was tearing her apart.

Mary knew that the memory of what’d happened would be with her until the day she died, and
while she still woke up in a cold sweat many nights, it also fueled her anger. The rest of the girls in
her dormitory seemed to feel the same, all of them working hard in preparation for their O.W.L.s,
especially Defense Against the Dark Arts. They didn’t speak about the reason behind their
collective fervor, but Mary was glad that, if nothing else, the event had galvanized them all into
action. She had an ominous feeling that they’d need that passion in the future.
 1976: Turning Point
Chapter Notes

Part of this chapter is based off of a scene in Chapter 28 of Harry Potter and the Order
of the Phoenix, so if it looks familiar, that’s why.

“Alright, Wormtail?” James asked, looking over in amusement at his friend, who was chewing his
nails anxiously as he scanned his notes. Peter looked up, his gaze frantic.

“What are kappas, again?” He asked, looking around at James, Sirius, and Remus, who were all
standing in the entrance hall, waiting to take their written Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L..
Sirius was leaning against the wall, looking bored, while Remus looked alert but calm, and James
had his hands in his pockets and was grinning.

“They’re Japanese water demons that strangle people that come into their ponds,” Remus
answered, not missing a beat. “You can appease them by giving them a cucumber with your name
written on it.”

Peter stared at him for a moment, a look of suspicion clearly fighting with his worry, as if he was
trying to decide whether Remus was messing with him or not. Remus just shrugged, giving him a
small smile.

“Stop worrying, Wormy, you’ve got this,” James said, putting a comforting hand on his friend’s
shoulder. “We’ve been studying all of this stuff for years.”

Peter didn’t answer, just looked back down at his notes and continued to read through them. James
glanced over at Sirius, whose eyes were scanning the entrance hall, not paying attention to what
they were talking about. He followed Sirius’ gaze to a group of Slytherins who were standing by
the doors of the Great Hall, including Snape, Rosier, Macnair, Wilkes, and Travers. They were
talking together in low voices, separate from the rest of the crowd of fifth years. James prodded
Sirius’ shoulder lightly, making him turn his gaze back towards his friends.

“Don’t think about them, Pads,” he said, nodding toward the Slytherins. “Whatever they’re up to,
you shouldn’t worry about it now. We have an exam to think about.”

“I’m not worrying about them,” Sirius said, though the steely look in his eye left James
unconvinced. “But if they’re planning on attacking someone else like they did to Mary—”

“We can’t know what they’re planning,” James interrupted him, sending a disgusted look towards
the Slytherins nonetheless. “Best not to think about it until it happens or it’ll just drive you mad.”

Sirius made a noncommittal noise in his throat, disregarding James’ words as he went back to
glaring at the Slytherins. Remus and James made eye contact briefly, and Remus just shrugged
helplessly. Sirius’ temper, always on edge at the end of the spring term as the prospect of going
home for the summer loomed, remained worse than ever this year, but none of the Marauders had
figured out a way to help thus far.

James didn’t have time to dwell on his best friend’s state of mind any longer, however, because
just then, Professor Flitwick began to call the fifth years into the Great Hall for their exam, house
by house. As they entered the Great Hall, Flitwick ushered them into the small desks, giving
pointed looks towards the four Marauders as they tried to sit together. James grinned, waving to his
friends as he moved up several seats from Sirius and sat down, resisting the urge to flip over the
exam paper in front of him.

Flitwick made his way up to the front of the Great Hall once all the fifth years were seated, and
turned over the giant hourglass. “You may begin,” he said in his squeaky voice, and James looked
back down towards his parchment, flipping it over and beginning to read the exam questions. He
paused for a second, mussing his hair slightly with his hand as he thought, then leaned down to
start writing.

After nearly an hour, James was broken out of his state of deep concentration by Professor
Flitwick’s voice announcing that there were only five more minutes left for them to complete the
exam. Luckily, he was just about finished with his last answer, which he completed with a flourish
before straightening his posture and lifting his parchment to read over his responses. His eyes
scanned over them, brow furrowed, and, satisfied, he placed the parchment down, yawning and
stretching, his hand mussing his hair once more. He glanced up to the front of the hall quickly to
confirm that Flitwick’s attention was elsewhere, then looked behind him towards where Sirius was
sitting, wondering if his friend had finished also.

He grinned when Sirius gave him a thumbs up from his seat four rows behind him, from where he
was tilting his chair back casually, looking bored once again. James twisted back towards the front
and bent over his question paper, beginning to doodle a Snitch. He wasn’t much of an artist,
nothing compared to Peter, who had illustrated most of the Marauder’s Map, or Sirius, who James
had once caught sketching the group’s animal forms and had muttered something about learning to
draw from a tutor when he was younger, then shoved the page out of sight. Still, he liked his
handiwork, and it made him think about the Snitch in his pocket, which Marlene had handed to
him surreptitiously after their last Quidditch match, and which he was dying to play with, as he’d
been sitting still for far too long.

Next to the Snitch, James began to doodle the initials L.E.. He glanced up to look to where Lily
was sitting ahead of him to the left, her head still bent over her exam. Her long red hair hung down
in a veil, obscuring her face, and the mid-morning light from the high windows shone down upon
it, making it look even redder than it usually did, set ablaze by the sun.

James was broken out of his reverie when Professor Flitwick called for everyone to put their quills
down and collected their exams with a wave of his wand, the scrolls flying at him with such force
that they knocked him over. James joined in the soft laughter that rose up from the crowd of
watching fifth years, as several students got up to help the little Charms professor up, including
Mary and Hestia, who were both sitting in the front row. As the students were dismissed, James
scratched out Lily’s initials, knowing that Sirius would never let him hear the end of it if he saw
them, then shoved his quill, ink, and exam question paper into his bag. He jumped to his feet,
waiting for Sirius, Remus, and Peter to catch up to him.

“Did you like question ten, Moony?” Sirius asked, shooting a grin at Remus as they made their
way out of the Great Hall into the entrance hall.

“Loved it,” said Remus, smiling back. “‘Give five signs that identify the werewolf.’ Excellent
question.”

“D’you think you managed to get all the signs?” James asked jokingly, turning his attention away
from where Lily was walking ahead of them with the rest of the girls in her dormitory.
“Think I did,” Remus replied mock-seriously, the group following the rest of the fifth years as they
fled the castle in favor of the warm grounds. “One: He’s sitting on my chair. Two: He’s wearing
my clothes. Three: His name’s Remus Lupin . . .”

James and Sirius laughed, but Peter still looked anxious. “I got the snout shape, the pupils of the
eyes, and the tufted tail,” he said worriedly. “but I couldn’t think what else —”

“How thick are you, Wormtail?” James asked, rolling his eyes. “You run round with a werewolf
once a month —”

“Keep your voice down,” Remus implored them, glancing around anxiously. James’ eyes flickered
again towards the group of girls in front of them with Lily in their midst. They appeared too
engaged in their own discussion to pay the boys any mind, however, as Hestia seemed to be
regaling the rest with a rant about one of the exam questions which she’d apparently taken issue
with.

They followed the girls down to the lake, but as Lily and the rest settled on a rock by the water’s
edge, taking off their shoes and socks to dangle their feet in the water, the Marauders veered off,
walking along the bank to find somewhere to sit.

“Well, I thought that paper was a piece of cake,” Sirius said, arrogantly. “I’ll be surprised if I don’t
get an Outstanding on it at least.”

“Me too,” James said, smiling as he remembered the Snitch and retrieved it from his pocket,
tossing it from hand to hand.

“Where’d you get that?” Sirius asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

“Nicked it,” he said, grinning at Sirius, letting the Snitch fly away for a couple of seconds before
grabbing it again.

They finally stopped at a big beech tree along the bank and flopped down in the shade beneath it.
Remus sat against the trunk of the tree and opened his Transfiguration book, burying his nose in it.
Sirius lounged carelessly, his eyes flicking around towards the other students laying on the lawn,
his expression brooding. James continued to play with the Snitch, letting it get further and further
away before catching it at the last minute. He registered Peter’s slight applause as he made a
particularly difficult catch but mostly ignored him, alternating between staring over at where Lily
sat by the water’s edge and glancing at Sirius worriedly.

“Put that away, will you?” Sirius asked, sounding annoyed as Peter cheered at another of James’
catches. “Before Wormtail wets himself from excitement.” James grinned slightly and stuck the
Snitch back into his pocket as Peter’s cheeks reddened.

“If it bothers you,” he said, shrugging and rumpling up his hair again.

“I’m bored,” Sirius whined. “Wish it was full moon.”

“You might,” Remus said from his spot by the trunk of the tree, a faint note of annoyance in his
voice. “We’ve still got Transfiguration. If you’re bored you could test me,” he said, holding out the
book. “Here.”

“I don’t need to look at that rubbish, I know it all,” Sirius said, snorting slightly.

James couldn’t blame his friend for his arrogance, really. If they couldn’t get top marks in
Transfiguration after managing Animagi transformations at the age of fifteen, no one could. He
glanced around the grounds, trying to find something to distract Sirius from his bad mood. His eyes
landed on a mop of greasy black hair only a couple of yards away from them, and a wicked grin
broke across his face. If James was honest with himself, he’d been waiting for a chance to get
Snape alone for weeks, just waiting for a chance to get back at him for what he’d done to Mary,
and for what he’d tried to do to Remus, too. Other things had been more important in the meantime,
but now that exams were almost over, and their friendships seemed to be on the mend, this felt like
the perfect opportunity to let loose.

“This’ll liven you up, Padfoot,” James said softly, still staring at Snape as he rose to his feet,
stuffing his D.A.D.A. exam paper into his bag. “Look who it is…”

Sirius turned his head to follow James’ gaze, and he became still, a grin spreading across his face,
too. “Excellent,” he said quietly, “Snivellus.” Remus raised his head to give them both a wary,
warning look, which they both ignored, while Peter looked excited.

As Snape began to walk across the grass back towards the castle, James pushed himself to his feet,
Sirius following him. “Alright, Snivellus?” James called across the grass, smirking. In a second,
Snape had dropped his bag and reached for his wand in his robes, but James was faster.
“Expelliarmus!” he shouted, and the other boy’s wand went flying out of his hand, lying in the
grass several yards behind him. Sirius laughed.

“Impedimenta!” Sirius said, which knocked Snape off his feet as he made a dive for his wand. The
commotion had caught the attention of the other people sitting around the lake, most of them fifth
years. Some of them moved closer, eager looks on their faces, while others held back, looking
apprehensive. James glanced over to the Gryffindor girls by the lake and saw that at least two of
them were now glancing their way.

James and Sirius approached Snape where he lay on the ground, their wands extended. James felt a
savage satisfaction as he looked down at Snape, remembering the scene he’d walked in on almost a
month before: Mary lying sprawled on the ground, a slash across her cheek covering half of her
face with blood as seven Slytherin boys advanced on her, laughing cruelly. If this wasn’t poetic
justice, he didn’t know what was.

“How’d the exam go, Snivelly?” James asked, smirking.

“I was watching him, his nose was touching the parchment,” Sirius said, his words cutting.
“There’ll be great grease marks all over it, they won’t be able to read a word.”

A few of the people around them laughed, including Peter, from behind them. Snape kept trying to
rise to his feet, but Sirius’ impedimenta jinx was still holding him back. “You—wait,” he said,
glaring up at James in hatred. “You—wait…”

“Wait for what?” Sirius asked coldly. “What’re you going to do, Snivelly, wipe your nose on us?”
A couple more laughs issued from the people around them. Snape swore loudly, muttering hexes
under his breath, which he was unable to cast against them without his wand.

“Wash out your mouth,” James said, glaring down at Snape. “Scourgify!” Soap bubbles instantly
began to stream from Snape’s mouth, and he choked slightly.

“Leave him alone!” a voice shouted from behind them. James and Sirius turned to see Lily
approaching them from where she’d been sitting at the lake’s edge. James’ hand went to his hair
again, mussing it slightly. Looking past her briefly, he saw Marlene, Dorcas, Hestia, Mary, and
Emmeline in the background, looking on in silence. From this distance, he wasn’t sure if their
faces showed disapproval or not.
“Alright, Evans?” James asked, his voice going down a couple of octaves as he focused back on
her angry face. Sirius snorted softly from beside him, but James ignored him, his eyes on Lily.

“Leave him alone,” Lily demanded again, glaring at James. “What’s he done to you?”

“Well,” James said, a slight grin on his face as he looked at her. “it’s more the fact that he exists, if
you know what I mean…” Some of the people around them laughed again, including Sirius, but
this only made Lily look angrier.

“You think you’re funny, but you’re just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave him alone.”

“I will if you go out with me, Evans,” James said, raising his eyebrows at her, still smiling in what
he hoped was a winning fashion. “Go on...Go out with me, and I’ll never lay a wand on old
Snivelly again.” From behind him, he heard Remus snort, but James didn’t look at him.

“I wouldn’t go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid!” Lily exclaimed,
locking her green eyes with his and sending him a furious look.

“Bad luck, Prongs,” Sirius said, sounding slightly amused, and he turned away from Lily back to
Snape. “Oy!” James heard Sirius exclaim, and then James, who’d been distracted by Lily and had
turned his back on Snape, felt a sharp stab of pain go through his cheek. He lifted his hand to it,
and it came away bloody.

James whirled around towards Snape, fury and pain rushing through him, and thought ‘levicorpus.’
Snape was suddenly hanging upside down by one leg, his robes falling over his head to reveal his
pants, making many watchers laugh uproariously along with James, Sirius, and Peter, though
Remus still stayed silent.

“Let him down!” Lily exclaimed, and James turned to her, half-incredulous that she was still
defending Snape after the other boy had just used dark magic on him, but he rolled his eyes
resignedly.

“Certainly,” he said, jerking his wand upwards and thinking ‘liberacorpus,’ so that Snape fell onto
the ground, tangled in his robes. He quickly rose to his feet again, wand raised for another attack,
but Sirius waved his wand, freezing him easily with a spell, and Snape fell to the ground again, stiff
and motionless.

“Leave him alone!” Lily shouted, pulling her own wand out from her robes and pointing it at
James and Sirius in turn. James backed away slightly. He’d been hexed by Lily once before and
didn’t cherish the idea of having a repeat of the experience that day.

“Ah, Evans, don’t make me hex you,” James said, looking at her warily.

“Take the curse off him, then!” she said, raising her eyebrows threateningly as she refused to lower
her wand. James sighed, weighing his options, and then turned towards Snape and muttered the
countercurse.

“There you go,” James said to Snape as he rose to his feet again, his wand still out, protecting
himself from any future curses Snape would think to put on him now that he was on his feet.
“You’re lucky Evans was here, Snivellus—”

“I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!” Snape snarled at him. A hush fell over
the crowd around them as the other students stared from Lily to Snape, shock and outrage showing
on most of their faces. James’ eyes had gone wide, and he and Sirius were both glaring furiously at
Snape. Lily’s expression, on the other hand, went blank, a wall closing over her bright green eyes.
“Fine,” she said after a moment’s pause, her voice suddenly cold and indifferent. “I won’t bother in
future. And I’d wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus.”

“Apologize to Evans!” James yelled, his wand up again and pointed at Snape.

“I don’t want you to make him apologize,” Lily shouted, turning on James with renewed fury in her
expression, which took him aback. “You’re as bad as he is!”

“What?” James demanded, his voice full of surprise and hurt. “I’d never call you a—you-know-
what!”

“Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you’ve just got off your
broomstick, showing off with that stupid Snitch, walking down corridors and hexing anyone who
annoys you just because you can—I’m surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that
fat head on it. You make me sick,” she exclaimed, turning and hurrying away towards the castle
without a backward glance.

“Evans!” James called after her, a mixture of anger and worry running through him as he stared at
her retreating figure. “Hey, Evans!” She didn’t turn around, however, and out of the corner of his
eye, he saw the rest of the Gryffindor girls stand up and hurry after her toward the castle.

“What is it with her?” James asked, his hand pulling at his hair absentmindedly again.

“Reading between the lines, I’d say she thinks you’re a bit conceited, mate,” Sirius said, sounding
highly amused.

“Right,” James said, feeling angrier than ever, and turning back to look at Snape. “Right—” He
flicked his wand, and Snape was in the air again. “Who wants to see me take off Snivelly’s pants?”

The crowd around them laughed again, but now Remus was by James’ side, his book abandoned
by the beech tree. When James turned his head and saw Remus’ expression, which had a warning
written on it, he faltered, his wand dropping an inch.

“Just leave it, James, come on,” Remus said. They locked eyes for a second, and James knew that
Remus was serious. Remus rarely asked them to desist, so James decided that it’d be in his best
interest to comply this time, despite the fact that he was itching to jinx Snape until he was covered
in pustules for what he’d just said to Lily. Instead, he sighed and flicked his wand and Snape fell to
the ground again in an awkward heap. Sirius, too, glanced at Remus, and, looking somewhat
chastised, lowered his own wand.

Snape untangled himself from his robes and rose to his feet, looking at the three boys, hatred in his
gaze. “Get out of here,” Remus said to him steadily, and Snape, after hesitating for a second, took
his advice and hurried away back towards the castle. Remus walked back to the beech tree and
picked his book up, Sirius and James following him like scolded dogs.

“Come on, we should take you to the Hospital Wing for Madam Pomfrey to look at that,” Remus
said once he’d grabbed his book, gesturing to James’ cheek, which was still bleeding. James
nodded sheepishly, and the three boys followed Remus as he trekked back up to the oak front
doors, not speaking.

....

Later that day, after their practical Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L., Remus, Sirius, James,
and Peter headed back up to Gryffindor Tower, talking briefly with each other about how their
exam had gone before falling into another unusual silence. As they entered the Gryffindor common
room, they saw Lily, sitting with the rest of the Gryffindor girls, who appeared to be comforting
her. Remus saw James chance a glance at her, which she ignored, but Mary looked up from her seat
beside Lily and stood, approaching the boys.

“Is your cheek alright?” she asked James, pointing to the place where the slash had been. James
raised his hand to it absentmindedly, shrugging.

“Madam Pomfrey healed it pretty quickly,” he said, feeling the smooth skin there. “It wasn’t very
deep, not nearly as deep as yours was. I suppose that he was weaker when he cast the spell or
something.” Mary nodded, her expression serious. The faint line leftover from the slash on her
cheek was barely visible anymore except when her skin was flushed, but it was still there, and
Remus guessed that it probably always would be.

“Well, I’m glad you’re alright,” Mary said, moving to turn back to her friends.

“Wait, is she—” James broke off, looking past Mary towards Lily. “Is she alright?”

Mary glanced back at him, looking a little sad. “Not really,” she said softly, so that Lily couldn’t
hear their conversation. “Whatever else he was, he was also her best friend since they were
children, and he still called her that slur.”

James nodded, looking extremely guilty. “It’s all my fault, isn’t it?”

Mary shook her head, giving him a small, warm smile. “It really isn’t, James,” she replied. “I mean,
you definitely could have acted better, but you didn’t make Snape call Lily that name. That was all
him, and if you ask me, it was going to happen at one point or another. He’s rotten, and it was high
time Lily stopped being friends with him. Anyway, I have trouble being angry with you over what
you did to Snape today. It was immature and maybe even cruel, but all the same, it was a bit
satisfying to see him get some of his own medicine, too. Don’t tell anyone else I said that, though.”

James grinned at her, and she smiled back a little mischievously, then waved at him and turned
back to join her friends. Sirius, who’d been fidgeting rather impatiently as he waited for James to
finish his conversation, jumped on the opportunity to bound up the boys’ dormitory stairs, and
Remus followed him. When the four boys reached the dormitory, Sirius walked over to sit beside
the window, opening it so that a warm breeze could enter their room, and began to loosen his tie,
sighing in relief as he did so. Remus glanced over at him, a flicker of worry rising up in his chest
again, but quickly looked away when he saw Peter watching him.

“Why does she hate me so much?” James asked after a minute of silence, from where he’d flopped
down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. None of the boys needed clarification on who ‘she’ was.
Sirius groaned, shaking his head in exasperation as he always did when James went on about Lily,
but Remus shot him a quelling look and answered.

“Well, she told you, Prongs,” Remus said diplomatically. “To use her words, you’re an ‘arrogant,
bullying toerag.’” James sat up and looked at Remus, his expression hurt.

“But you don’t think I’m like that, Moony, do you?”

Remus sighed. “Of course I don’t, not really,” he said, shaking his head tiredly. “But you really
acted like it today, Prongs. And I understand why, to Lily, that’s all you are.”

“That’s encouraging. Maybe explain more, Moony?” Sirius snorted again, sending an amused
glance toward his friend. Remus scowled back at Sirius.

“This applies to you, too, you know,” he said, raising his eyebrows pointedly at him. Sirius held
his gaze for a moment before looking away, the tinge of pink on his cheeks the only clue to his
discomfort.

“You’re one of the most loyal people I know, Prongs, and I know you’re a good person,” Remus
continued, directing his words back at James. “But all Lily sees is that you’re impulsive and proud.
Sometimes your pranks are at other people’s expense, and sometimes you hex people who just
annoy you. Snape is a different case, I know, since he’s not exactly an innocent victim, but still,
what you and Padfoot did to him today was below the belt, even for you.”

James looked a bit guilty at Remus’ words, while Sirius’ face was still impassive, hiding whatever
emotion he was feeling expertly. “But you saw what he did to me, too, Moony,” James defended,
his voice slightly higher than usual, pleading with Remus. “I hexed him, yeah, but he cursed me
with that Sectumsempra spell he made up, the same one he used on Mary! I didn’t draw blood. I
wouldn’t do that.”

“You and Padfoot attacked him, two on one, and jinxed him when he didn’t even have a wand,
James,” Remus pointed out. “Of course he shouldn’t have used that spell, and of course I know that
whenever you two get into a duel he uses dark magic, which you’d never do. It still doesn’t make
you and Padfoot picking a fight with him, hexing him for no reason, and humiliating him in front
of all our classmates okay, Prongs.”

James had the decency to look truly ashamed now, and he looked down, not meeting Remus’ eyes.
It was Sirius who responded. “So what are we supposed to do to those blood purists then, Moony,
if not hex them? You heard what Snivellus called Evans! Even his best friend—” he broke off,
glancing at James, who had a dark expression on his face.

“If memory serves, Padfoot, getting revenge on Snape for the things he says doesn’t tend to do
much more than get all of us into trouble,” Remus pointed out, and though he didn’t mean to add a
bite in his words, they still made Sirius flinch.

Remus felt a little regretful at his reaction, but it was true, after all. Sirius’ anger level had gone
nowhere but up in the months since the full moon incident, and though he was full of remorse for
the consequences it’d had for both Remus and James, Remus wasn’t sure that he felt the same way
about what could’ve happened to Snape that day. After all, he had no issue with continuing to take
his anger out on the Slytherins.

“There’s nothing we can do, Padfoot,” Remus continued, his gaze slightly gentler as he looked at
Sirius now. “Do you think hexing them will make them less bigoted?”

“It makes them shut up sometimes,” Sirius muttered, managing to still look mutinous even after
being chastised. “And don’t they deserve it? In my book, cursing Muggle-borns and calling people
slurs merits some payback.”

“Yes, but hexing them in return doesn’t do anything but put you and Prongs into detention,” Remus
explained frustratedly. “Things are changing, you know. In our earlier years at Hogwarts, it was
only a few Slytherins who did this kind of stuff, but it’s been escalating. Doing what you and
Prongs do, it’s dangerous now. You can still cuss them out and report them for doing all that
without putting yourself in danger.”

“Report them?” Sirius asked, looking up at Remus, his voice incredulous. He turned to James.
“Prongs, Moony wants us to get prefects to fight our battles for us.”

“Shut up, Padfoot,” James said, shooting a quelling look at his best friend, clearly having taken
Remus’ words to heart already. “Moony has a point. We took it too far today, and over the last few
weeks, too. I guess I thought hexing some Slytherins would help with whatever you’ve been going
through recently, but it seems like it’s only made you angrier. I know what Regulus said upset you,
but—”

“This isn’t about that!” Sirius exclaimed, his voice louder than before.

“It’s exactly about that,” James said, looking at his friend steadily. “Your temper’s always on the
surface these days, and you’re lashing out at everyone, not just the Slytherins. This isn’t just about
what happened with Moony—”

“We don’t have to bring that up now,” Remus said quickly, looking over at Sirius, who had an
expression on his face appropriate to that of a kicked dog again. Somehow, it felt even worse when
James mentioned it than if he’d brought it up himself.

“Look,” James said, backtracking hastily. “My point is that I’m worried about you, Padfoot, and I
don’t think what Moony is suggesting is completely out of the question. We’ve both taken things
too far, and maybe we can do better.”

“You just want Evans to go out with you!” Sirius said, his voice still sounding hurt even as he
snapped at James.

“Yeah, I do want that,” James retorted, glaring at Sirius. “But I also want Moony to stop looking at
me like I’ve disappointed him, and I want to stop worrying about what kind of trouble you’re going
to get yourself into if you keep going down the path you’re going down right now.”

There was a moment of silence in the dormitory, then, as Sirius stared at James, the anger wiped
off both faces as they locked eyes, communicating silently. “Padfoot?” James asked, pleading with
his best friend to see reason. Sirius glared between the both of them, his eyes finally fixing on
Remus, addressing his next words to him.

“If they curse me, I’m not taking it lying down,” he said angrily, the trace of a growl in his voice.

“I’m not asking you to,” Remus replied, blinking in surprise. He hadn’t expected Sirius to agree to
any part of this intervention.

“What about pranking, if it doesn’t hurt anyone?” Sirius asked, crossing his arms over his chest,
his eyes still narrowed unhappily.

“Come on, Pads,” Remus said, smirking slightly now. “You know I like doing pranks almost as
much as the rest of you.”

“Fine, then,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes resignedly. “I promise to turn over a new leaf. Next thing
I know you’ll be signing me up for some anger management classes or bullshit like that, Moony.”

Remus laughed. “Maybe I’ll get you a self-help book, Pads.”

Sirius scowled in response but didn’t retort. James grinned at Remus, and Remus returned his
smile. Peter sniffed slightly in the background, still sitting on his bed, where he’d been for the
entire conversation, looking on. “What do you think about this, Wormy?” James asked, turning to
the fourth Marauder.

“I dunno,” Peter said, frowning slightly. “What Moony said makes sense. I’ll miss seeing Snape
get what he deserves, though.”

“At least Evans probably won’t speak to him again after this,” Sirius said, sounding satisfied.
“That’s the one good thing that happened today. She should’ve stopped being friends with that
slimeball years ago.”

“Poor Lily,” Peter added, shaking his head and looking both angry and a little sad. “I couldn’t
believe that he’d call her that. Haven’t they been friends since before first year?”

“Yeah,” Remus said heavily. “Padfoot’s right, though. It’s good that she finally understands the
level of Snape’s bigotry, but she didn’t deserve for it to happen the way it did.”

“Do you think I should say something to her?” James asked, looking concerned. “Apologize, or—”

“I think that you should leave her alone, Prongs,” Remus interrupted firmly. “We have our last
exams tomorrow. She’s got enough on her mind right now without dealing with you, too. Anyway,
I think that in general, trying to be less annoyingly flirty and in her face all the time might help
your chances of making her hate you less.”

“Okay,” James said rather disappointedly. Then, he turned to Sirius. “Maybe instead of hexing
people next year, you can use all of your pent-up rage to be one of the new Gryffindor Beaters?
You know Florence, Christopher, and Marcus are all graduating this year, so we need two more
Beaters and another Chaser.”

“Just because you’ll probably be Captain after Florey doesn’t mean you can just appoint me. I still
have to try out, you know,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes.

“I’ve watched you play for years, Padfoot. I know how good you are,” James assured him, smiling.
“Anyway, we can train all summer once you come to stay at my place.”

“Fine,” Sirius sighed, but he was smiling slightly now, too. “At least I’ll be able to pelt those
Slytherin bastards with Bludgers even if I can’t hex them anymore.”

“That’s the spirit,” James said, laughing as he clapped Sirius on the back, shooting a grin at
Remus.

“When are you going over to Prongs’, anyway, Padfoot?” Remus asked, trying to sound casual.

“Mid-July,” Sirius said, meeting Remus’ eyes briefly. “I’m spending three weeks at my parents’
house before going.”

“Why can’t you just spend the whole of the holidays at the Potters?” Peter asked, looking a little
worried.

“Because my parents would throw a fit if I tried,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes. “It’s progress, two
weeks fewer at home than last year, anyways, so I’ll take what I can get.”

Remus bit his lip, trying to push back his concern as he looked at Sirius. He hated the idea of Sirius
being stuck up in Grimmauld Place. Sirius always got a cold, hard look on his face when he
described his house, which Remus didn’t like to see. Remus had never met either of Sirius’ parents,
unless you counted the time that that boggart in third year had transformed into Walburga Black.
Remus shuddered inwardly at the thought. He wished that Sirius would stop being stubborn and
just let James’ parents adopt him or something, as James had been offering ever since third year.

“Don’t look so anxious, Moony,” Sirius said, looking at Remus with a small smile that didn’t reach
his eyes. “I can handle myself around my family. Maybe I’ll transform in the night and get dog hair
all over the furniture. My dear old mum would love that.”
Remus smiled slightly, but this did nothing to reassure him. Only three weeks wasn’t too bad,
though. Not much could happen in that short amount of time, Remus told himself.
 1976: The Great Escape
Chapter Notes

cw: graphic depictions of violence, mentions of abuse

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Sirius said to himself as he examined his reflection in his mirror in
Grimmauld Place. “I look ridiculous.”

He’d just dug his old, formal dress robes out of his closet and put them on, readying himself
reluctantly for his first extended family dinner of the summer. The stiff black robes with their high
collar made him look rather medieval, he thought, and appeared especially strange alongside his
long hair. Briefly, he wondered if his mother might have an aneurysm if he put his hair up into a
little ponytail, but discounted the idea quickly. Constantly rebelling exhausted him sometimes, as
did the punishments he received for doing so.

Sirius glared at his reflection in the mirror for another moment before huffing and throwing
himself down onto his bed. At the moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care if his robes would be
rumpled by doing this, and stared up at his ceiling, steeling himself for what would come that
evening.

The first week of the summer holidays had been its usual torture, trapped in Grimmauld Place.
Sirius hadn’t dared to leave the house at all after that one time the previous summer when his
mother had caught him sneaking out and punished him severely for it. Sirius dearly missed the
days when he’d been able to slip out undetected, however, as he already felt as if the life was being
sucked out of him the longer he stayed there. Sirius was dreading that evening with special fervor,
as the whole Black family would be in attendance at their house. This included his three uncles,
two aunts, and two remaining cousins, Bellatrix and Narcissa, neither of whose husbands would be
attending, thankfully. Sirius detested both Lucius Malfoy and Rodolphus Lestrange, and though the
dinner would be difficult no matter what, he was glad that he’d have to endure fewer unfriendly
faces.

The only person Sirius wasn’t dreading to see was his Uncle Alphard, who’d always seemed to like
Sirius more than any of his other family members apart from Andromeda. He was an odd wizard:
he’d never married, didn’t see much of the rest of the family, and while Sirius knew that he was
some sort of professor, he didn’t know anything specific about what Alphard studied. Sirius’
mother, Walburga, had always prohibited Sirius and Regulus from speaking to Alphard alone as if
she thought they’d catch something dangerous if they were near him long enough. Sirius itched to
discover why she treated his uncle in this way but resigned himself to the fact that he’d probably
never know.

Sirius wished, not for the first time in the last three and a half years, that Andromeda could be there
with him, enduring these dinners, but quickly scolded himself for doing so. She’d been lucky
enough to escape, after all, but while Sirius was glad that she’d been able to make a life for herself
away from their family, this didn’t stop him from missing her.

Sirius heard the twisted serpent door knocker sound from downstairs, echoing hollowly into the
silence of the great house, and sighed. He’d better go downstairs to greet the guests, but he wished
he could linger in his bedroom, which was the only safe place in the house he had. Looking around,
he smiled slightly to himself, taking in the decorations. He’d fought with his parents on numerous
occasions about every single one of the things on his walls, but the permanent sticking charm he’d
placed upon them the previous summer had prevented either Walburga or Orion Black from
removing them while he was gone.

Slowly and reluctantly, Sirius got to his feet, smoothing his robes down as he did so. He knew that
if he dawdled much longer, his mother would soon come up the stairs to make him come join
them, or alternatively, make Regulus do it for her. Sirius didn’t like either prospect, so he strode
towards the door, forcing himself to descend the staircase and join the rest of the Black family.

In the entrance hall, his mother, father, and brother stood talking with his Uncle Alphard, who was
dressed splendidly in a fashion that Sirius thought quite resembled some of Dumbledore’s slightly
less eccentric robes. Alphard turned to beam at Sirius as he walked down the stairs, ignoring the
glare Walburga shot at him for his tardiness. His uncle wasn’t a very tall man, only a few inches
taller than Sirius himself, with dark, shoulder-length hair which was streaked with silver. His grey
eyes weren’t cold like his older sister’s, but twinkling and friendly, soft wrinkles lining them as he
smiled.

“Ah, Sirius, wonderful,” Alphard said, clasping Sirius’ hands in one of his own as Sirius reached
his uncle’s level. “Already finished your fifth year at Hogwarts, I hear? What an achievement!
You must be relieved to be done with your O.W.L.s.”

“Thank you, Uncle Alphard. It’s nice to see you again,” Sirius replied a little awkwardly. He
always enjoyed the fact that his uncle was the only member of the family who seemed truly happy
to see him, yet he was rather odd, and Sirius never knew quite how to act around him. “O.W.L.
year was difficult, so I’m glad to be done with it.”

“We haven’t yet gotten his results yet, Alphard, so don’t praise him prematurely,” Walburga said,
shooting Sirius a disapproving glance, to which he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. How could he
possibly avoid responding directly to his uncle without being impolite? If she’d truly not wanted
him to ever interact with her brother, perhaps she shouldn’t have invited him to dinner.

The thought made him smirk slightly to himself, as he knew that his mother couldn’t neglect to
send an invite to her brother for family dinners like this, for two reasons. One was that it would
simply be against decorum, which she couldn’t bring herself to break. The other—probably more
important—motivation in Walburga’s mind was that Alphard, as the elder of her two brothers, had
inherited the largest portion of the family gold when their parents had died. She, in turn, wanted to
know that she’d be in his will when he died if she outlasted him, and so she needed to play nice.

“Nonsense, I’m sure you did splendidly,” Alphard said, ignoring Walburga and smiling at Sirius
genially. Sirius grinned back, bolstered by his uncle’s praise. Walburga looked like she’d been
slapped, which only broadened Sirius’ grin. Down the hallway, the doorknocker sounded again,
and Sirius heard Kreacher answering the door. This time, his father’s sister, Lucretia, and her
husband, Ignatius Prewett, joined them, followed closely by Cygnus and Druella Black, with
Bellatrix and Narcissa in tow.

Bellatrix’s lip curled slightly as her dark eyes fell upon Sirius, and he returned her disgusted look
with interest. Narcissa, on the other hand, completely ignored Sirius, instead giving Regulus a
smile, which Sirius saw his younger brother return out of the corner of his eye. He clenched his
jaw, trying to ignore the feelings of anger and betrayal that rose up in him, as they had every time
he’d looked at Regulus in the past months.

With everyone in attendance, the Black family retired to the dining room, settling themselves down
to eat the hors d'oeuvres that Kreacher had prepared for them. As Sirius chewed and tried to ignore
the people around him, he reflected on how much living in a strict pureblood household for sixteen
years could make one truly hate small talk. Not just any small talk, either, but especially the
particular flavor which always seemed to be used in Black family conversations. The kind with a
constant tone of superiority, often containing racist and classist overtones, and which above all else
avoided any topic which couldn’t easily be explained away with the usual pureblood understanding
of the world. Sirius had decidedly not missed this.

The conversation took them quickly into dinnertime when Kreacher served them plates of chicken
with greens and potatoes. Neither Regulus nor Sirius, though sixteen, were offered wine, and Sirius
was glad of it. He liked to keep his head clear around this lot, as it felt dangerous not to. He ate in
silence, only tuning back into the conversation when Alphard interjected some mild comment into
the usual revolting elitist rhetoric.

Sirius was quite fascinated by the way that Alphard managed to express his sometimes
controversial opinions in a gentle, unthreatening way. Even more entertaining was the way that
none of the other adults could retort nastily, as they had polite decorum to uphold. Sirius guessed
that this was the way that Alphard had managed to keep his place in the family unchallenged: he
didn’t push his opinions with a hot temper like the rest and kept his controversy mild enough so
that it couldn’t be challenged in any meaningful way. Sirius knew he himself could never do this,
as he had too much anger in him, and could never pass his opinions off as mild. Still, it fascinated
him.

Sirius hadn’t been required to speak up until the middle of pudding when his Uncle Cygnus
addressed him. “So, you’ve finished your Ordinary Wizarding Levels, have you, Sirius?” he asked
coldly, looking down the table towards his nephew. Sirius couldn’t help but think about Alphard’s
earlier comment on the same topic, which had been exponentially warmer than Cygnus’ address.

“Yes, I have,” Sirius replied shortly. He knew he sounded rude, but couldn’t bring himself to care.
Cygnus nodded curtly.

“And do you believe you performed satisfactorily?”

“I think I did rather well, yes,” Sirius said wryly. It was sometimes amusing to him that the Black
family never cared an ounce what an excellent student Sirius was, his achievements thoroughly
eclipsed by the fact that he was a Gryffindor.

“Good,” Cygnus said, though his eyes were still cold. “Perhaps you will be able to bring honor to
our family yet, despite your house allegiance.”

“I doubt it,” interjected Bellatrix, speaking for the first time, a nasty expression on her face. “Not if
he continues to keep the company he’s currently keeping.”

“I’m not sure it’s any of your business who I choose to interact with, Bella,” Sirius snapped, glaring
back at her. His muscles were suddenly tensed, ready for a fight. Surprisingly, whatever this fight
was going to be, it wasn’t Sirius who’d initiated it, but he’d definitely be the one finishing it if they
continued to talk to him like this.

“Who you associate with is every person in this family’s business, Sirius,” Orion said, his eyes
piercing his eldest son from the head of the table. “Your actions reflect on all of us.”

“I only hope the reverse can’t be said for me,” Sirius said, a wicked smirk crossing his features as a
feeling of recklessness stole through him.

“Watch your mouth, Sirius Orion Black!” Walburga rebuked him, narrowing her eyes dangerously
at her son. Sirius met her gaze, glaring right back without fear. This was what always got him into
trouble: the fact that when the adrenaline kicked in, he’d stare directly into her furious gaze, a
curse already forming on her lips, and laugh.

“Exactly what company do you keep, Sirius?” Ignatius Prewett asked him, his voice not quite as
full of malice as the rest, but not truly benign, either. Sirius knew little about Ignatius, or his wife
Lucretia, for that matter. They had no children and traveled often, so were rarely in attendance at
these dinners. Still, he’d learned that their mystery did not equal safety.

“Well, uncle,” Sirius replied, a slight note of sarcasm stealing into his voice as he chose his words
carefully, “I spend most of my time with the smartest and most brilliant wizards and witches in my
year. I would say they have quite a good influence on me, and we’re all at the top of our class at
Hogwarts, of course.”

“Mudbloods and blood traitors,” Bellatrix spat, sending a venomous glance toward Sirius as she
addressed Ignatius Prewett. “That’s who he associates with.”

“Now, Bellatrix—” Alphard tried to break in, casting a scolding glance at his niece, but he was
interrupted by Walburga.

“When will you grow out of these distasteful alliances? You know that we will not allow them to
go on forever.”

Sirius let out a bark of laughter, staring at his mother. “It’s hilarious to me that you think you can
force me to do anything, mother, let alone leave my friends behind. Haven’t you learned how little
control you have over me by now?”

“Sirius!” Orion snapped, his tone dangerous. “Show some respect to your mother.”

“I will when she does something deserving of my respect,” Sirius said, a wicked smile still playing
across his face as he met his father’s eyes challengingly, ignoring both Regulus’ fearful expression
next to him, and the nudge in his ribs from under the table.

“I can’t believe I ever produced such an ungrateful son like you,” Walburga exclaimed, her face
flushed from anger and from the wine she’d been drinking, a lethal combination. “You are the
greatest shame of this family!”

“I didn’t realize that I’d graduated to our family’s greatest shame,” Sirius quipped, a mockingly
proud note in his voice. “I’m surprised at how quickly I managed to surpass Andromeda, and I’m
not even pregnant with a Muggle-born wizard’s child.”

At the mention of Andromeda’s name, Cygnus shattered the glass in his hand and Druella let out a
small squeak of horror. Bellatrix looked enraged, but Sirius noted that Narcissa’s face remained
impassive, despite a slight flinch that went through her at the mention of her older sister.

“How dare you mention that name to our family!” Cygnus boomed, looking furious as he dropped
the shards of the glass still clutched in his hand. “I suppose you still correspond with that blood
traitor. You two are so much alike, after all.”

“Oh, yes,” Sirius said, grinning widely and even more maddeningly. “I have several photos of your
granddaughter, too, if you’d like to see them. I’d say she has your eyes, but luckily she doesn’t
seem to have much of a resemblance to anyone in this family.”

Cygnus growled in anger, glaring at Sirius as if he wished he could step around the table and
throttle him with his bare hands. Sirius knew that whatever self-restraint Cygnus had wasn’t shared
by his daughter Bellatrix, who was clearly already frothing at the mouth with rage. He decided to
provoke her further.

Turning his gaze onto his cousin, he said, “I guess it’s quite a bit of luck that you didn’t manage to
blow Andy to pieces all those years ago, Bella, or else Nymphadora wouldn’t exist. Though I guess
you may not see it that way.”

The gleam of rage blazed brighter in Bellatrix’s eyes as she glared at Sirius, clearly remembering
the part that he’d played in protecting Andromeda from her wrath that night. Sure enough, Bellatrix
rose to the bait, pushing back her chair and leaping to her feet. She strode across the room towards
Sirius, and he rose to meet her, anger and adrenaline rushing through his body. Unlike the night of
Andromeda’s departure, they were now almost the same height, Bellatrix no longer towering over
Sirius considerably. They were practically nose to nose instead, their anger matching the other’s as
they stared each other down.

“Perhaps you won’t be as lucky as she was,” Bellatrix fumed. “Do you think there’s anyone here
who will protect you in the pathetic way that you shielded her hideous hide? I would bet not,
cousin.”

Sirius’ gaze faltered for a second as he registered the truth in her words, but he didn’t break eye
contact. Despite the affection that Alphard seemed to have for him, Sirius doubted that his uncle
would intervene, and Regulus…Sirius didn’t think Regulus would, either. He still believed that his
brother loved him, but Regulus had always been too terrified to stand up to any member of their
family and seemed to be buying into the pureblood superiority ideals more than ever these days, if
Snape was to be believed.

“Maybe I don’t need protection from you, Bella,” Sirius taunted her, all the while knowing that he
was going down a dangerous road, one which he couldn’t turn back from now. “I think I can take
whatever you throw at me. Just because you’re mad as a hatter doesn’t mean that you scare me.”

Sirius had barely finished his words when he was hit with Bellatrix’s Cruciatus Curse. Pain coursed
through his veins, through his entire body, consuming it in fire. He managed to not cry out, and
though it sent him to his knees, he didn’t keel over with the force of it. Once he was released from
the curse, Sirius didn’t release his tensed muscles, not allowing himself to collapse from the pain or
the exhaustion that begged him to give in to it. His breath came out in pants, but he allowed no
other show of weakness. After a moment, Sirius raised his eyes to meet hers again, the fire of anger
still burning in his own.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he asked challengingly, smirking up at her. He knew his lack of reaction
would only anger her more, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t let her win. She raised her wand
again, but a voice stopped her.

“Bellatrix, enough,” Sirius’ father said, giving her a quelling look. She breathed heavily, staring
from her uncle to Sirius, then relented. She lowered her wand and walked over to the other side of
the room, clearly trying to regain control over herself. Sirius pushed himself to his feet.

“Thank you for your concern over my well-being, father,” he said sarcastically, flicking his hair
out of his eyes.

“Be quiet, Sirius,” Orion Black said, staring at his son with disgust. “Can’t you ever learn to just
hold your tongue? You continually disgrace this family with every word you speak.”

“Sirius, are you alright?” Alphard broke in in a much softer voice, looking at his nephew in
concern. Sirius knew that he was flushed and sweaty, but was quite proud of the fact that he
showed no other sign of being affected by the curse his cousin had sent his way.

“Perfectly fine,” he replied, throwing a loathful glance toward Bellatrix, who was still glowering at
him from the corner. Walburga rose to her feet, glaring across the table at her eldest son.

“Go to your room, Sirius,” she said, her words deadly calm, her eyes narrowed in anger at him.
“Get out of my sight. I cannot bear to witness your disgracefulness any longer.”

Her voice held a cold finality in it. Sirius wondered at how she could be so quiet and cold in public
and so loud with her rage in private. It was a talent he never wished to learn.

“Fine,” Sirius spat at his mother. “As if I want to hang around you lot for any longer than I have to,
anyway.”

He glanced around at them for a moment, all staring up at him. He took in Regulus, frozen and
unmoving, Alphard, a look of slight horror and concern on his face, Walburga, righteous anger
expressed in her whole body, Bellatrix, a sneer of satisfaction on her twisted features, and Orion,
expressionless in his chair. Snorting in disgust, Sirius turned and stormed out of the room,
thundering up the stairs and leaving them all behind in his wake.

When Sirius reached his room, he slammed the door closed so hard that he thought, for a split
second, that it would break off its hinges. “Fuck!” he yelled, aiming a sharp kick at one of the
ornate legs of his bed. The pain in his foot only added to the residual aches from the curse, and he
slumped down on the bed, his head in his hands, the pain too much for his muscles to hold him up
at that moment.

“How will I survive more of this?” he demanded out loud after a moment, unable to contain the
shake in his voice now that he was alone. Raising his head with some effort, he gazed around at his
room. In his pain, the posters staring back at him, all designed specifically to anger his parents, felt
foreign. It always happened this way: once the satisfaction of his parents’ shock and rage wore off,
it was replaced swiftly with the dull ache of self-loathing.

The only thing on the wall that felt genuine was the photo of him and the rest of the Marauders.
Sirius leaned across his bed to look at it, his fingers tracing the edges. His friends grinned back at
him, their arms around his shoulders, and he felt a pang in his stomach. He could imagine their
precise reactions to him, at this moment: the frantic worry on Peter’s face, the suggestions of
solutions as he tripped over himself to fix the problem; James’ anger and hands on Sirius’
shoulders, begging him to take care of himself, to protect himself, to not rise to the bait… But it
would be Remus’ steady, blue gaze that pierced Sirius the most. Even then, far away from the
other boy, Sirius imagined that he felt it on him.

He could imagine Remus’ expression, a crease between his eyebrows, long eyelashes framing his
blue eyes, which were unreadable. His mouth turned down slightly, he looked at Sirius without a
trace of a smile on his young face, which often looked older than his years. Sirius knew that if
Remus was there, he’d look at him exactly like this. He wouldn’t say anything as the other two
fretted around, just fix him with this stare, concerned and waiting. Waiting for Sirius to do
something.

Sirius stood up abruptly and began to pace. “I can’t do this anymore,” he said aloud, testing the
words in his mouth. He felt slightly afraid of them, hanging in the air, and again he imagined
Remus in front of him, looking at him. “I can’t do it,” he told the imaginary Remus, and without
nodding, without saying anything, he knew that Remus heard him. He knew that he understood.

Get out, Walburga Black’s voice echoed in Sirius’ head, every syllable filled with rage. Get out of
my sight.

He could hear voices below, suggesting that they’d made their way out of the dining room into the
hall. The guests must be leaving. Soon, his mother would come upstairs to punish him. Or would
she? Sirius stopped pacing, thinking hard, ignoring the dizziness, the feeling of feverish heat in his
whole body, which ached from the curse. Get out, his mother’s voice echoed in his ears again.

Sirius stood there for a whole minute pondering the situation, then, as if moved into action by an
alarm, Sirius hurried over to his bed and pulled out his trunk. Grabbing everything within reach, he
began to cram them into the trunk. He barely looked at the things he tossed in, not caring. He
vaguely registered packing clothes, books, and miscellaneous objects around his room. There
wasn’t much left here that he cared about, but still, he filled the trunk quickly. He might have cast
an undetectable extension charm on it, as James had taught him to do the previous year, but in his
present condition, Sirius wasn’t overly confident in his wandwork, so he resigned himself to
leaving some things behind. Realizing he was still dressed in the constricting dress robes, Sirius
pulled them off, dressing instead in jeans and a band t-shirt, and pulling his leather jacket over it.

He’d sent Caspian, his barn owl, out to deliver a letter to James that morning, so he didn’t have to
worry about him. He’d take the owl’s empty cage and hope that the bird would know where to find
him, wherever he ended up.

As Sirius stared around his room for anything that he’d regret leaving behind, his eyes fell onto the
picture of him and the rest of the Marauders, still stuck to his wall by the permanent sticking
charm. He couldn’t take it with him, but he ached at the thought of leaving it behind in this house.
Sirius realized darkly that because of the sticking charm, his parents would never be able to use his
room for any other purpose. Instead, he guessed that they’d lock it and throw away the key, trying
to ignore the evidence of their blood traitor son, immortalized forever in this space. He sighed,
latching his trunk closed. Then, in a sudden brainwave, he cast a featherlight charm on it. Sirius
didn’t even quite know where he was going yet, but he knew it would be easier to transport this
way.

Sirius looked around his room, things he hadn’t bothered to pack strewn across the floor. He
wondered if this would be the last time he ever saw this place, where he’d spent his whole
childhood in. He’d likely never come back here. The thought didn’t make him sad, but it did shock
him slightly. Just then, he heard a noise at the door. Sirius looked up to see Regulus staring at him
from the open doorway. He wasn’t sure how long Regulus had been there, watching him, but given
his brother’s expression, it’d probably been a while. Regulus, upon meeting Sirius’ gaze, entered
the room and shut the door.

“Were you even going to say goodbye?” Regulus demanded, a sharp note to his voice that
reminded Sirius of their mother. Sirius let out a humorless laugh.

“I didn’t know you wanted a goodbye from me anymore.”

“You know, if you just kept your mouth shut, it wouldn’t be like that,” Regulus said coldly.
“You’re the one that makes it hard for yourself around here, running your mouth ever since you
first came back from Hogwarts.”

“I kept my mouth shut for eleven years, Reg. I couldn’t do it anymore,” Sirius said, glaring at him.

“You could if you really tried, if you actually cared about any of us.” Regulus retorted, reproach
and anger seeming to battle in his voice. Sirius sighed, his temper rising again, too.

“You’re right, Regulus,” he said sarcastically, “I don’t care about anyone or anything but myself,
just like mum says.”

“Well, that’s what it’s seemed like ever since you came back from Hogwarts with all your new
friends. You seem to have forgotten who your real family is!” Regulus’ voice had risen to a shout.

Sirius snorted, his patience thoroughly used up by then. “My real family? You mean the people
who torture me every time I come home? You think they love me? You think they ever did? As
long as I can remember, it’s been nothing but neglect and blows from our darling mother and
father.” His voice matched Regulus’ easily, already primed with anger from the shouting match
downstairs. “They couldn’t care less about what I do until it starts embarrassing them! Why should
I call them my family?”

Regulus was silent for a moment, staring at his older brother. The anger seemed to have seeped out
of him, leaving him looking sad and tired. “And me? Am I no longer your family, too?” He
sounded very young as he said this, and an image of an eleven-year-old Regulus helping Sirius’
thirteen-year-old self up the stairs after being hit with his first Cruciatus Curse flashed before
Sirius’ eyes. As Sirius looked at Regulus, the anger draining out of him as well, he couldn’t help
but see the little boy he’d protected for so long when they’d been children.

“You’ll never stop being my brother, Regulus. But I’m not sure I know who you are anymore,”
Sirius said tiredly. “For someone who tells me to keep my mouth shut, you seem to have a lot to
say about me at Hogwarts.”

Red patches appeared high on Regulus’ cheekbones, and he looked down at his hands in apparent
shame. “I had to say something,” he muttered. “You don’t know what it’s like in Slytherin. They
used to torment me about having you for a brother.”

“So you told them that you hated me?” Sirius demanded, disbelief and hurt coloring his voice.
“Maybe I don’t know what it’s like to be in Slytherin, to be the good child with the expectations,
but you have no fucking clue what it’s like to be me, either.”

The two brothers stood in silence, staring at each other as if each had never truly seen the other
before. After thirty whole seconds of silence, Regulus said: “You’re right, I have no idea what it’s
like to be you. I don’t even know if I know who you are anymore, either. You’ve changed so much
in the last five years. The first time you came back from school, it was like you became a
completely different person, or maybe you always were that person and you’d just lied about it our
whole lives. I’m not sure you’ve really been my brother since.”

Sirius hesitated for a long moment, then strode forward and wrapped his arms around his younger
brother, pulling him into a hug that Sirius thought would probably be their last. His heart ached,
remembering all the years when each had been the only friend the other had had. Sirius knew that
he was leaving his brother all alone, and a part of him hated himself for it, just as he knew Regulus
hated him for it, too. He also knew he couldn’t stay for Regulus’ sake, not anymore.

“I never stopped caring about you, Regulus,” he murmured into his brother’s hair. “But I can’t
protect you anymore, not in the same way I did when we were kids. I’ve been taking blows for you
my whole life, and I’m not sure it did either of us much good. Maybe if I hadn’t protected you in
the way that I did, you’d understand why I’m doing this now. I just cared about you too much not
to.”

His brother stepped back to look up at Sirius, his expression slightly pleading. “But you don’t care
about me enough to stay now.”

“I can’t,” Sirius said desperately, almost crying as he begged his brother to understand. “I can’t
stay for you anymore. This place is going to kill me, Regulus. I can’t be in this house, around our
family, any longer than I have already.”

Regulus’ expression flickered for a moment then hardened, and he suddenly looked his age again,
no longer reminding Sirius of his five-year-old self, and more resembling their mother. “Leave,
then.”

“You could come with me…” Sirius said, trailing off, knowing his words were futile.

Regulus shook his head. “You know I’ll never do that.” Sirius sighed, and picked up his trunk in
one hand, Caspian’s empty cage and his broom in the other. As he strode past his brother to the
door, he placed his hand briefly on Regulus’ shoulder.

“You’ll always be my brother, Reg. If you need anything, you can always owl me.”

But Regulus didn’t make any move or acknowledge Sirius’ statement, so Sirius removed his hand
and opened the door, pausing only for a moment to look back at his brother, standing as still as a
statue with his back to Sirius in the empty shell of Sirius’ childhood room. A lump rose into Sirius’
throat as he thought about the fact that this might be the last time he was this close to his brother,
but he pushed it down and left the doorway, carrying his belongings down four floors to the
entrance hall, which was empty and quiet.

He half expected his mother to emerge around a corner and attack him, but as he walked through
the dark hallway to the front door, nothing stirred in the shadows. He’d been right, then, about her
wanting him to leave.

When Sirius reached the front door, he threw it open, taking a deep breath of fresh air as he stepped
out onto the doorstep. Fleetingly, Sirius remembered the day, almost seven years ago, when he’d
ventured out of the house to explore London for the first time. The wonderful yet terrifying feeling
inspired by his newfound freedom that day struck Sirius as both very far away and terribly
immediate as he left the house for what he thought would be the last time. The door swung shut
behind him of its own accord once his trunk and broomstick had cleared the doorway. He
wondered vaguely if the house would lock itself against him from now on—not that he cared. He
never wanted to return.

Sirius strode down the steps and towards the street. After walking two blocks, he finally placed his
things down on the ground, settling himself onto his trunk to think. He now had to decide where he
was planning on going, and quickly, before any Muggles passed and gave him odd looks for
carrying a trunk, a large bird cage, and a broomstick. His options were very limited. He could go to
a member of his family who was sympathetic to him, like Andromeda or his Uncle Alphard. Both
would likely take him in, but he wasn’t sure if that was truly what he wanted. He didn’t know his
uncle very well, and Andromeda had a two-year-old kid she had to care for. Sirius didn’t want to be
an unnecessary burden on her and Ted. That left only one feasible option.

Sirius stood, grabbed his things again, and walked to the curb, sticking out his wand arm into the
street. With a loud crack, a triple-decker, deep purple bus appeared out of thin air in front of him.
Without hesitation, Sirius climbed up the steps of the Knight Bus.

The conductor, a woman in her early twenties, said, “Eleven sickles,” in a bored voice, her eyes
briefly scanning over him. He rummaged in his pockets and handed over the money to her. “Where
to?” she asked him.

“1 Blacksmith Hill, Ozleworth, Wotton-under-Edge.”

“In England?”

“Yeah, it’s north of Bristol,” Sirius said. She nodded, turning away from him, and he went and sat
down on a bed, placing his trunk in the luggage rack and grasping a pole firmly, not wanting to be
shaken out of place. He’d only taken the Knight Bus once before with James, Remus, and Peter.
Sirius had spent most of that trip on the floor and wasn’t in the mood to repeat the experience. The
bus was relatively empty that night, so he didn’t doubt that he’d be at his destination soon. He
watched as the bus moved quickly between the city streets of London to a lamp-lit suburb, to a
lonely country lane where it nearly ran over a deer, and back to another cobbled street in another
city.

After a quarter of an hour or so, the Knight Bus materialized on a dark hill which Sirius recognized
well and skidded to a stop next to his second favorite place on earth. He grabbed his things and
exited the bus, nodding his thanks to the conductor and driver. In a second, the bus behind him had
disappeared again, and he was left gazing at the house in front of him.

Taking a deep breath, Sirius began to walk towards the gate, grateful for the fact that it was only
eight o’clock, the lights were still on, and he could hear the soft melodic sound of friendly
conversation inside. He was glad he wouldn’t be forced to wake anyone who lived there, as he felt
bad enough about the immense favor he was about to ask of them. He opened the gate with a creak
and shut it behind him, walking up the stone path nestled in the front garden, and stopped on the
doorstep. Pausing for a moment, he steeled himself before knocking three times on the door with
the large, lion-shaped knocker.

The sounds of conversation stopped, then after a moment, footsteps inside approached the door. It
swung open to reveal the face of his best friend, James Potter, standing in the doorway with his
hair sticking in every direction and a puzzled look on his face as he took in the sight of Sirius,
standing with his trunk, owl cage, and broom in hand. Sirius looked up at his best friend, a half-
smile on his face, and shrugged slightly.

“Any chance I could crash here? I don’t really…” His voice broke slightly, emotion showing
through the veneer. “I don’t really have anywhere else to go.”

James didn’t speak, just stepped over the threshold and wrapped Sirius in a large hug, holding him
tightly, in a way that spoke more than words ever could. Sirius’ belongings fell to the ground with
three successive thumps as he released them, and he wrapped his arms around James’ shoulders in
return, burying his head into his best friend’s neck. After several long moments, James released
Sirius and stepped back. “Of course you can stay, Sirius. You know my parents have been offering
for years.”

“Who is it, James?” James’ father called from the sitting room.

“It’s Sirius,” James called back, not taking his eyes off of his best friend as he did so, concern
showing in them. Sirius knew he must look awful. He was still flushed, and felt slightly feverish
with exhaustion and pain, though he wasn’t going to tell James about any of that. Behind James,
Sirius heard the rushing footsteps of his parents, and then Mr. and Mrs. Potter appeared in the
doorway, too. Mr. Potter had only to give Sirius a once-over, taking in his trunk and other
belongings laying next to him on the doorstep, to assess the situation. He stepped forward to
embrace Sirius, as well.

“You’re welcome to live with us as long as you would like, son,” he said, his hand stroking the
back of Sirius’ hair reassuringly. Mrs. Potter gave him a long, searching look, so much like her
son’s.
“What happened, Sirius?” she asked, her voice full of motherly concern.

“They...I finally had enough of them. Or they finally had enough of me, I dunno,” Sirius said, his
voice sounding very small. The pressure behind his eyes, which he’d first noticed when he’d been
talking to Regulus, redoubled, but it was only when Mrs. Potter stepped forward and took him into
her arms in a maternal gesture—which was more meaningful than anything his own mother had
ever done—that he broke down into tears. The shock, the pain, and the trauma of the evening were
too much for him to hold inside. He stood there, sobbing uncontrollably into Mrs. Potter’s shoulder
in the doorway as Mr. Potter levitated his things up to the room that he’d always stayed in every
time he visited during the holidays. After several minutes, Mrs. Potter guided him inside and shut
the door, made him tea, and sat him down in an armchair in the sitting room.

Slowly, laboriously, Sirius recounted the whole story—except for the part where he was crucified
by Bellatrix—as the Potters sat silently, listening. They asked no questions, only allowed him to
speak, and when he was finished, Mrs. Potter hugged him once more, and James led him up to his
room. Sirius collapsed onto his bed, suddenly too tired to do anything other than remove his shirt
and trousers and climb under the sheets. Vaguely, he contemplated the possibility that Mrs. Potter
had put some potion for dreamless sleep into his tea, but perhaps it was simply the chaotic nature
of the day, combined with the aftermath of the curse that he’d been ignoring. It didn’t make a
difference either way, however, as seconds from when his head hit the pillow, Sirius fell fast
asleep.
 1976: Breathe Again
Chapter Notes

cw: underage drug use

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The next day, James awoke with a start, opening his eyes in the early morning light to look around
his room. Outwardly, nothing had changed. His poster of the Puddlemere United Quidditch team
was still hanging on the wall across from his bed, another poster of the Holyhead Harpies pinned
up next to it (a gift from Marlene, who’d told him at age eleven that he needed exposure to players
which were actually good). Light shone in from the window above James’ headboard, as well as
the smaller window on the other side of the room, under which his desk sat.

Nevertheless, while his room appeared unfazed by the events of the previous day, James felt as if
there was some mark of difference in the air. It was as if the breathing of the boy in the room next
to his was shifting it, even through the wall. James sat up slowly, thinking about everything that
had happened.

It’d been a very normal day before Sirius had arrived, in which James had gone over to the
Meadowes’ house in Brighton to see Marlene and Dorcas. The three had spent the day exploring
the countryside, and James had returned home in high spirits, though slightly late for dinner. His
mother had scolded him gently, and then they’d sat down to eat. As they often did, the Potters had
retired to the sitting room after dinner to talk, and it was then that they’d heard the rapping on the
door.

James remembered opening it to see Sirius, looking flushed, his eyes unnaturally bright, and his
face slightly sweaty. He’d looked ragged, maybe even sick, and James suspected that what Sirius
had told him and his parents the previous night wasn’t the whole story. If Sirius didn’t want to tell
him, however, James wouldn’t force the issue. Sirius had a right to his secrets.

James checked his alarm clock next to his bed and saw that it was only six a.m.. He stood up and
began to get dressed, then headed out into the hallway. When he put his ear to Sirius’ door, he
heard nothing, so he walked quietly to the loo. He knew that Sirius would probably not be up for
another couple of hours, perhaps even more given everything that’d happened the previous night.

Therefore, James went about getting ready and making breakfast, not waiting for his best friend, or
anyone else in the house, for that matter, to rise. He ate and cleaned up after himself quietly, then
headed out the door for his usual morning run. Down the road from the Potters’ house lay a few
Muggle houses, far enough away that the inhabitants wouldn’t pry into the Potters’ lives, but close
enough that James passed them every morning when he ran, so he was friendly with them. He
waved at a couple of the neighbors he knew as he ran past.

When he was running, James always felt like he could concentrate on his thoughts in a way that he
never could when he was sitting still. He often felt that these morning runs were the only source of
his precious few moments of clarity, and at that moment, all he was thinking of was Sirius.

Whatever had or hadn’t happened to Sirius the night before, or in the past years at his home in
London, he’d now left, presumably never to return. Despite the terror of the previous night, James
now found relief in the fact that Sirius was safe. After years of worrying about his best friend
during the summer holidays, James would finally be able to rest easy, knowing that Sirius was no
longer in danger from his family.

After dwelling on this calming realization for a while, James turned to his next concern: he’d have
to write to Remus and Peter about what’d happened. Sirius might not like him to, not wanting to
concern them, especially Remus, but James knew that he had to tell them. They needed to know
that Sirius was safe, and he hoped that they might come over to visit him, too, as it might cheer
Sirius up.

James ran back up the hill, not exactly sure how long he’d been out for. The sun was a bit higher in
the sky, and when he re-entered the sitting room, he could hear the sounds of his parents moving
about the house. He climbed the stairs two at a time, first hurrying into the bathroom for a quick
shower, then returning to his bedroom. Once he was dressed, his hair already beginning to stick up
in odd angles as it dried, he sat down at his desk and pulled out a roll of parchment and a quill.
James sat for a few moments in silence, trying to think of what to write to Remus and Peter, then
lowered his quill to paper and scratched out a few sentences.

Moony,

Padfoot ran away from his parents’ house last night and came to mine. He’s going to be living here
permanently now during the holidays, and I thought you should know that he’s safe, and he seems
to be okay (physically, at least). It’d be great if you could come by sometime soon to see him. I’m
asking Wormy, too. I think it’d be good for him to have us all around. Feel free to stop by any time.

Prongs

James copied out a similar message to Peter, then trotted downstairs to find Edelweiss, the Potters’
owl, to send the two letters off. When he descended, he found that Caspian, Sirius’ owl, was
perched on the windowsill instead. He’d arrived the previous evening, carrying Sirius’ letter to
James, then took off again. Likely he’d gone out to hunt, and, by whatever magical force allowed
owls to locate people, had returned that morning, knowing that Sirius would be there.

“Hey, Caspian,” James said, reaching out and allowing the bird to climb onto his arm. “You up to
taking a letter to Remus?”

Caspian hooted in what James thought was assent, so James fastened the letter to Remus to the
barn owl’s leg. Caspian took off immediately, soaring out the window towards his new destination,
and James turned to look for Edelweiss to take the other letter to Peter.

After looking in a few rooms, James found Edelweiss perched on the top of the dresser in his
parents’ room, and attached the letter to his leg and sent him off. He knew that Caspian would
reach Remus sooner than Edelweiss would reach Peter, as the journey to the south of Wales, where
Remus lived, was much shorter than that to Bradford. Still, Edelweiss was faster, which was why
James had chosen him to take the letter to Peter, so hopefully, it wouldn’t take him too long.

Having sent the letters off, James walked back out into the kitchen to find his mother standing in it,
cleaning dishes. “Morning, mum,” James said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“Morning, beta,” she said. “Had a good run?”

“Yeah, it was good,” James answered absentmindedly. “I sent off to Peter and Remus to see if they
could come over and see Sirius.”
Euphemia made an approving humming noise in her throat. “That sounds like a good idea. He
seemed awfully quiet at breakfast.”

“He’s up?” James asked, looking at his mother in surprise. “I thought he was still in bed.”

“Oh, yes, he’s up,” Euphemia said. “Didn’t you notice his door was open when you went
upstairs?”

“No, I guess I wasn’t paying attention,” James admitted sheepishly.

“My distracted boy,” Euphemia said, her tone affectionate. “Yes, he ate breakfast with me and your
father, then said he was going for a walk. I think he might have gone to the pond. You know how
he likes it up there.”

“Yeah, I know,” James said. “Thanks, mum. I should go see if he wants company.”

“Okay,” Euphemia said. “Just don’t push him, alright? Sometimes people just need space. And
after everything that he’s been through…” She paused, sighing and shaking her head sadly. James
gave her a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry, I won’t push him,” he said. “I’ll see you later, alright? Will you yell for me if any
owls come or anything?”

“I will,” Euphemia replied, smiling.

So James trekked up the familiar path towards the top of the low hill, where a patch of trees
concealed both the little Quidditch spot where he practiced every summer, and also the small pond
where he, Sirius, Marlene, and Dorcas always swam. The pond was only a short walk from the
Potter’s house, and after ten minutes James came upon Sirius, sitting on a rock that jutted out over
the water and staring straight ahead.

James slowed as he drew closer, feeling almost wary of his best friend. It was like approaching a
wounded animal—he didn’t want to startle him. When James was only a few feet from Sirius, the
other boy spoke.

“Stop creeping up on me, Prongs. I can hear you,” Sirius said. His tone sounded light, and so James
sat down beside him, examining his face. Sirius’ expression was neutral, no mark of the previous
night’s panic on it. He looked tired still, and his skin had an unnatural pallor to it, but other than
that, he seemed fine.

“You okay, Padfoot?” James asked tentatively.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Sirius replied, his legs dangling off the rock, looking into the depths of the lake
pensively.

“It’s okay if you’re not, you know?” James said, feeling at a loss for words. “I mean...if you want
to talk about it.”

Sirius turned his head to look at his best friend and smiled slightly. “I appreciate the concern,
Prongs, but I really am okay.”

“You are?”

“Yeah,” Sirius said, letting out a little laugh. “I am. You know, I never felt like I could breathe,
living in that house. Not ever when I was a kid did I feel like there was space for me to breathe. I
felt like the house was suffocating me, like my parents were suffocating me, you know?”

James shrugged, staring at Sirius, an apologetic look on his face. Sirius shook his head, still
smiling slightly. “No, I don’t suppose you do. Anyway, going to Hogwarts felt like being able to
breathe for the first time in my life. I had no idea what I was missing until I got there, but still, at
the end of each term, when I had to go back home, I felt like I was being suffocated for weeks
before even stepping back into the house. Now that—” he broke off, looking back out over the
water, his grin widening.

“Now that I’m free,” he said, seeming to savor the word on his tongue before continuing. “It feels
like I’ve never been able to breathe like this before in my life. My mind feels clearer than it’s ever
been, Prongs. I mean, yeah, leaving was hard to wrap my head around, but I felt like I was dying in
that house, literally dying. Like it was going to kill me or drive me crazy. I could feel it happening.
Now I’ll never have to go back, and I can breathe.”

James wasn’t quite sure how to reply. He wished Remus was here, as he always knew how to
communicate with Sirius about difficult things like this. James just couldn’t relate to either of the
two in the way that they could relate to each other. His life had been too good, too happy to do so,
which he was grateful for, but it made him feel like a dunce in situations like this.

“I’m glad,” he said finally, giving Sirius a smile.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, Sirius staring out at the lake, James fidgeting
absentmindedly as he was lost in his own thoughts. They were broken out of their reverie, however,
by the sound of Euphemia Potter calling something up the hill, her voice magically magnified to
reach them, but not so much that they could make out the words, or it would disturb the neighbors.

“I wonder what she wants,” James said, frowning. The two boys climbed to their feet and hurried
down the hill. Euphemia Potter was nowhere to be seen, so James assumed that his mother had
gone back inside after calling them. It probably wasn’t too dire, then.

Still, Sirius and James ran down the hill, so that they arrived back at the house only five minutes
later, slightly out of breath. As they entered through the back door, Euphemia greeted them,
beaming as she stood behind the counter. Across from her, his back to the door through which
Sirius and James entered, was a tall figure with light brown hair.

“Look who’s come to see you,” Euphemia said.

Remus turned to look at James and Sirius, his blue eyes immediately fixing upon Sirius. Without
saying a word, he strode over to the other boy and hugged him tightly. Sirius seemed a little taken
aback for a moment, then wrapped his arms around Remus in return, his hands linking behind
Remus’ waist. They stood like that for a few seconds, then Remus pulled back and looked at
Sirius, his expression almost angry.

“What happened?” he demanded, his eyes scanning Sirius’ face anxiously.

“Perhaps you boys want to go upstairs and talk alone in Sirius’ room,” Euphemia said gently. She
glanced at James, tilting her head slightly as if asking a question, though James wasn’t sure what it
was. He understood her suggestion, however, that they should be left alone.

“I’m going to go fly for a bit,” James said, looking at Sirius. “Unless you want me here?”

Sirius shook his head. “No, thanks, Prongs,” he said. Remus didn’t look at James as he left—his
eyes were all for Sirius. The two boys exchanged another glance, and then Sirius led Remus
awkwardly up the stairs to his room.

....

Remus looked around as he followed Sirius up the stairs curiously. He’d never actually been to
James’ house before, though he’d heard much about it from the other boys, and from Marlene and
Dorcas. He was rather surprised by the size of it, as he’d expected something much more
grandiose, given how rich he knew James’ family was. However, it seemed only to have three
bedrooms and two bathrooms and to be comprised of two floors. Euphemia Potter had said
something about James’ father being in “the library” when Remus had arrived, though, which
didn’t surprise Remus. Of course, most of the advantage of the Potter house could be seen, not in
the house itself, but in the land surrounding it that the family also owned, which Remus knew was
much of the reason why James and Sirius loved it.

The door to Sirius’ room was the second on the left along the upper hallway, and Remus followed
Sirius in, shutting it quickly behind him before turning to Sirius and raking his gaze down his body
intently, looking for any physical damage there, despite the fact that James had assured Remus in
his letter that there didn’t seem to be any.

“What happened?” Remus asked without preamble, sitting down next to Sirius on the bed, his eyes
flicking over the other boy’s face. True to James’ word, Sirius didn’t look bruised or have any
outward injuries, but he was slightly paler than usual, and the circles under his eyes stood out more
vividly than Remus was used to.

Sirius began to tell him. It took a while for the story to unfold, and Remus interjected many
questions along the way, his horror growing as he listened to Sirius’ account of the dinner party.
As was usual with Sirius’ stories about his family, Remus felt that Sirius was likely holding some
parts back. Nothing about his story explained his rather sickly pallor, for instance, but Remus
decided that now wasn’t the moment to press him on it.

When he’d finally finished, there was silence for a few moments before Remus asked quietly: “Do
you think they’ll come after you?”

Sirius shook his head. “No, they won’t,” he said slowly, meeting Remus’ gaze. “They let me
leave.”

“What do you mean?” Remus asked, surprised by Sirius’ conviction.

Sirius shrugged. “My mother told me to go to my room, but what she said was ‘get out,’” he
explained. “I think she wanted me to leave for good. After everyone left, she didn’t come up and
punish me, and the entrance hall was empty when I left. She probably heard me, and she could’ve
stopped me, but she chose not to.”

“If she wanted you to leave, why didn’t she just kick you out, then?”

“She learned from what happened with Andy,” Sirius said, a faraway look stealing into his grey
eyes, as if he was reliving this other moment of his family history as they spoke. “It embarrassed
the family, especially my Uncle Cygnus and Aunt Druella. I reckon she thought it’d be cleaner if I
just left, and then she could tell the family whatever she wanted.”

They were both silent for several long moments. Remus wasn’t quite sure what to say, and he
couldn’t really tell how Sirius was feeling about the situation, either. It was Sirius who spoke again
first, looking down at his hands instead of up at the other boy.
“I think it’s the nicest thing she’s ever done for me,” he admitted quietly. “Just letting me leave,
you know. She’s obviously never been the warm type, and I don’t remember her ever making me
feel like she cared even an ounce about me, but maybe a little part of her does.”

He looked up at Remus, and Remus tried to rearrange his features so that he didn’t look so
horrified, or pitying, but Sirius smiled. “You don’t have to look at me like that, Moony. I know I’m
fucked up.”

Remus couldn’t help but smile back in the face of Sirius’ grin. “You are,” he replied, lifting one
shoulder in an amused half-shrug. “But it’s okay. There are worse things to be.”

Sirius began to laugh, and after a moment, Remus joined in. It felt good to him, this dry humor that
he and Sirius could share. It seemed as if it was loosening something, both inside him and between
him and Sirius. He knew that Sirius felt the same way, especially when he looked across at the
other boy and saw that his eyes were wet.

When Sirius’ laughter died out to be replaced with sobs moments later, tears running down his
face, Remus wasn’t surprised, but simply held him. It was one of the first times that they’d
properly touched since all that’d happened during the spring term, and Remus was glad of it. It still
felt dangerous in some way, but Remus thought that this might be for a different reason than
before.

Of course, Remus hated Sirius being hurt. Still, perhaps because this was how they’d been able to
relate to one another before—through pain—this was how they’d be able to rebuild what’d been
broken between them, too. Remus found he didn’t really care why as they clung to one another.

....

After their conversation, Remus and Sirius walked up the hill in silence to find James. The quiet
wasn’t awkward this time, but comfortable, the tension in the air between them much less than
before they’d left for the summer. They found James flying around the clearing on his broom, and
once he’d landed, they spent an enjoyable afternoon together, walking around the hill and
slouching down in the shade of the trees.

In the late afternoon, Peter finally joined them, running up the hill and finding them after a few
minutes of searching through the forest. As Bradford was further away than where Remus lived, in
the countryside near Cardiff, he’d only just received James’ letter, and immediately flooed to the
Potters’ house. After briefly updating him on what’d happened, the boys resumed their easy
conversation.

While they were talking, Remus felt a lump in his jacket pocket, pressed into him by the tree he
was leaning up against. Curious, he felt around and drew out the objects in there. Of course, he
thought. It was some of the leftover pot from the last full moon, along with the paper he used to
roll joints with.

“Why’d you bring those along?” Peter asked, snorting slightly with laughter once he spotted the
things in Remus’ hands. Remus rolled his eyes, stowing them back into his pocket.

“I didn’t mean to, they were just in my pocket already.”

“What does it feel like when you smoke it?” Sirius asked curiously, obviously having registered
the weed, too. “I mean, you said it makes the pain easier. What else does it do?”

“It’s hard to describe,” Remus said contemplatively. “It makes me feel kind of detached from
reality a bit. But in a good way. I dunno.” He thought about it for another moment, then looked at
Sirius, who wasn’t looking at him but staring off into the trees. Remus hesitated before asking:
“Do you all want to try some?”

They all said yes, in the end. Peter was the most hesitant, but it was Remus saying, “You don’t
have to, Wormtail, you know. I just thought it might be fun,” that made him agree, a smile
breaking through the cautious look on his face. James and Peter watched in fascination as Remus
expertly rolled a joint, while Sirius’ gaze, unseen by the rest, fixed on the hair that fell into his
friend’s eyes while he worked, rather than on his hands.

When Remus was done, he swore. “Fuck, I don’t have a lighter.”

“Here,” Sirius said, raising his wand and muttering a spell, deftly lighting the end of the joint.
James shot him a look.

“You know my mum doesn’t like it when we use magic out of school, whether or not the Ministry
can tell you’re doing it.”

Sirius just smiled and shrugged, pocketing his wand again as Remus took a hit from the joint. He
held the smoke in his lungs for a second before breathing it out through his mouth, then offered it
to Sirius.

“You’ll want to take small puffs first,” he said as Sirius took it. “Inhale it slowly and then hold it
for a second before breathing out.”

Sirius put the joint tentatively to his lips and inhaled. He coughed as he tried to hold the smoke in
his lungs, exhaling quicker than he’d intended, and Remus laughed.

“It’s normal to cough a bit as you get used to it,” he said. “Don’t worry though, it’ll actually get
you high more quickly.”

Sirius, clearly determined to get it right, took another drag, this time not coughing, but letting the
smoke out slowly. He handed it to James next, who, Remus was surprised to see, seemed to be
quite good at smoking on his first try, not coughing at all, even with the large drag he took.

Remus shook his head, laughing slightly, as James passed it on to Peter. “Did you forget the part
where I said small puffs?” Remus asked. James just winked at him.

Peter coughed a lot in both his first and second attempts taking a hit and passed it back to Remus,
grimacing slightly. The joint made a few more rounds before it was finished, all of the boys getting
a better hang of it with time.

“That stuff hits fast,” Sirius commented, once the spliff had vanished out of sight and they were left
sitting in a circle. Remus looked over at him and saw that his eyes were slightly bloodshot. He was
smiling, too, and his face looked far more relaxed than it had earlier, color returning to his cheeks.
Remus was too high at that point to really give the change in Sirius much thought, so instead, he
just grinned back at him lazily.

“Like it?” he asked. Sirius nodded, then glanced over at James and Peter. Remus followed his gaze
and grinned broadly at the sight. James’ mouth was open slightly, and he seemed to be gazing off
into space, his eyes unfocused. Peter was humming under his breath. Sirius began to laugh, which
caused James to start and close his mouth, and Peter to look at him.

Remus felt as if the sound of Sirius’ laughter was reverberating through his body, as if the sound
waves had invaded his bloodstream and were traveling to his extremities. His skin tingled slightly,
and he felt color rush into his cheeks, but again, he didn’t have the capacity to analyze it at the
moment, so he just looked over at Sirius, who’d just taken a huge inhale, apparently feeling the
need to fill his lungs with clean air.

Sirius glanced back over to Remus and grinned at him. “I’m glad you’re all here,” he said, though
his grey eyes stayed fixed on Remus’ blue ones. Remus smiled back at him, warmth blooming in
his chest at the words.

....

Half an hour into the high, the four boys decided that they all wanted to eat, so they trekked down
the hill toward the little house. They tried to tiptoe in, hoping that neither of James’ parents would
find them in their state, though they still made quite a bit of noise together, especially when Peter
knocked over a glass on the counter. Luckily, neither Euphemia nor Fleamont came to see what the
commotion was about, so the Marauders were left to scour the kitchen cupboards for something to
eat.

“What about macaroni cheese?” James asked, lifting the box out of a high shelf and turning it to
squint at the instructions.

“What’s that?” Sirius asked, peering over James’ shoulder.

“You’ve never had macaroni cheese?!” James demanded, turning to stare at Sirius incredulously.
Sirius shrugged and shook his head.

“It’s one of the best things in the world!” James exclaimed. “Okay, now we have to make it!”

It turned out that Remus was the person who knew the most about cooking out of the four of them,
so they let him fill the pot, bring it to a boil, then add the pasta, conversing in a slow, leisurely way
as they waited, all looking around the kitchen as if they’d never seen it before in their lives.
Unfortunately, this meant that not even Remus was paying enough attention to the pot as the pasta
water began to boil up and over.

“Oh, shit!” James exclaimed, running over to it and switching off the heat. It was too late,
however, as it’d already gotten onto the stove.

“I can clean it!” Sirius announced, taking out his wand and pointing it at the pot. Before any of
them could stop him, the liquid in the pot on the stove exploded, half-cooked macaroni and pasta
water hitting the walls with a loud, wet smacking noise.

They had only a moment to stare at each other in abject horror before they all started at the sound
of a throat being cleared near the doorway. They turned to see Euphemia Potter standing there, her
arms crossed, a single eyebrow raised at them, as if she’d appeared out of thin air.

“Mum!” James squeaked, turning on the spot to face her and looking extremely guilty.

“And what do you all think you’re doing?” she asked, barely concealing a smile. The four boys
looked around at each other, then turned back to face her.

“Making dinner?” James said slowly, his voice raising at the end in a question.

“Boxed macaroni cheese, I see,” Euphemia said, nodding to the boxes on the counter. “Something
hard to bungle, though I see you managed nevertheless.”

“The water kind of...overflowed. Then Sirius tried to clean it up by magic,” James said. Euphemia
 nodded, amusement all over her face.

“That clearly backfired,” she said, though her tone was still only kindly amused as she said it. “As
you know, Sirius, we do enforce the no magic outside of school rule in this house, so please hand
over your wand.” She held out her hand for his wand, and he sheepishly placed it in her palm. She
smiled, then flicked her own wand so that the walls began to wipe themselves clean.

“There are leftovers in the fridge,” she said, replacing her wand in her pocket. Before turning to
leave, she looked behind her and shook her head, smiling. “At least you didn’t smoke in the
house.”

She exited the room, leaving them to exchange relieved looks and thank their lucky stars that
Euphemia Potter didn’t have a quick temper.

Chapter End Notes

My deepest apologies for the phrase “macaroni cheese.” Trust me when I say that I
was horrified to learn that that’s what they call mac and cheese in Britain.

Also, look! A semi-cheerful chapter, for once! I know I’ve had a pretty depressing last
few, but things get better from here (and then eventually worse again, of course).
There’s always angst, but more in the normal teenager way rather than the “we’re on
the cusp of a war with wizard bigots” way.
 1976: London Calling
Chapter Notes

cw: implication of a slur being used, underage drinking

See the end of the chapter for more notes

It took only a short amount of time for Sirius to get settled into the idea of living with the Potters
permanently. Of course, he was used to spending large parts of his summers there, so he was
already familiar with the steady, stable flow of life in Wotton-under-Edge.

Most days, they hung around the Potter house and surrounding area, playing Quidditch, swimming
in the pond, and exploring. Remus and Peter had both come back to spend time with them again—a
turn of events that could be described as miraculous in Remus’ case. The rest of the boys joked that
Remus had finally caved and realized he’d never get rid of them, while he only rolled his eyes and
called them wankers.

Sirius liked having Remus around more in the summer. It felt familiar, like being back at
Hogwarts, to be able to look over and see Remus there, reading a book perhaps, or arguing with
Peter about which wizarding bands were actually good. Sirius had never truly realized how much
Remus’ absence during the summers had bothered him before, but now that Remus was around,
Sirius didn’t think he could bear him disappearing ever again.

Even when Remus and Peter weren’t there, James and Sirius spent most of their time with Dorcas
and Marlene. In early August, when Remus was at home recovering from the full moon and Peter
was watching his brother and sister, Sirius and James found themselves flooing into the Leaky
Cauldron to meet the two girls. They’d decided to spend the day exploring London, as they rarely
ventured out of the countryside, and thought it would be a fun change of pace. The girls got in five
minutes after them, dusting ash off of their clothes before greeting the boys.

“Come on,” Marlene said impatiently. “Let’s get out of here.”

All four of them headed out of the dingy pub to the bright sunlight outside, their eyes adjusting
quickly as they took in the sight of the bustling Muggle street. Sirius turned to the rest, raising his
eyebrows. “Where to?”

They all beamed at him. “Up to you,” Dorcas said cheerfully. “You’re our guide.”

Sirius snorted. “You do know that I spent most of my childhood locked up in my house on
Grimmauld Place?”

“Oh, don’t lie,” Marlene said. “You told us you explored almost the whole of London by yourself.
So show us around.”

Sirius’ face broke into a grin, done pretending ignorance, then turned to look around the street for
familiar landmarks. “Fine,” he said. “Follow me.”

They did as he said, meandering their way down the street, James, Marlene, and Dorcas all looking
around in fascination. Marlene fell into step with Sirius, her strides long and bouncy, clearly
excited.

“Where’re you taking us?” she asked.

“I’m not sure quite yet,” Sirius said, shrugging. “I figure we’ll just go to a street with some shops
then look around.” He cast a sideways look at her. “You look more Muggle than usual.”

Marlene grinned toothily at him. She was wearing denim bell bottoms, boots, and a cuffed-sleeve
ABBA t-shirt. “This is Dorcas’ shirt,” she admitted in a dramatic whisper as if this was
confidential information. “The only band t-shirts I own are wizarding ones.”

“I hope you’re not trying to pretend you don’t like ABBA,” Dorcas called back ahead to them,
smiling when they both glanced back to look at her. She, too, was dressed in a more Muggle way
than usual, with a short, stripy dress that showed off her long, smooth brown legs, and a pair of
sandals. Though both girls dressed in normal clothing when home for the holidays or during
Hogsmeade weekends, there was usually some magical element, like Dorcas’ enchanted earrings,
Marlene’s “The Dragon Tamers” t-shirt, or the fact that they tended to keep their wands tucked
into their pockets or stuck into their hair for safekeeping. There was none of that that day.

“I’m not pretending anything,” Marlene said, sticking her tongue out at Dorcas. “I just don’t own
any Muggle t-shirts.”

“Maybe we should get you some,” Sirius suggested, nodding to a nearby store. Marlene exchanged
an excited glance with Dorcas, and they rushed towards the store, James and Sirius close on their
heels.

The four young wizards spent the day browsing in different shops and walking around London,
during which Marlene did indeed buy an Aerosmith t-shirt. She changed into it from Dorcas’
ABBA shirt excitedly, Dorcas stowing the old one away in her bag for safekeeping. Instead of
lunch, they got ice cream and went to sit on a park bench, laughing and chatting.

“Is Grimmauld Place near here?” Dorcas asked curiously, glancing at Sirius as they ate their ice
cream during a lull in the conversation.

“Not that near,” Sirius responded, meeting her gaze briefly. “About a twenty-minute walk, maybe.
But I’ve been here before.”

“It must be strange to be back in London,” Marlene said, gazing at him with a thoughtful look on
her face.

Sirius smiled and shrugged. “Not particularly,” he said. “My parents wouldn’t be caught dead in
Muggle London, so I don’t really associate it with them. The city of London is nice. I’ve always
liked it.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice to live here someday?” Dorcas asked, smiling around at the park. “Once
school is over, you know, when we have real adult jobs and all that. We could get a flat or
something.”

“That’d be brill,” James said. “Except for the job and graduating Hogwarts part.”

“As if you even need a job,” Marlene scoffed. “You don’t have to work a day in your life if you
don’t want to.”

James laughed. “You’re right,” he admitted. “But I’ll need something to do.”
“I’m sure you’ll find something,” Dorcas said before Marlene could reply with a no doubt more
cutting remark, given the evil grin on her face. “What did you ask McGonagall about at the career
meetings, then?”

James shrugged. “I didn’t have much of a focus going into that meeting, to be honest,” he said.
“There are a couple of jobs that look interesting. Healer, Auror, or something in your dad’s
department, maybe, Marley. Those all have similar requirements, McGonagall told me, so I don’t
have to decide yet. I could also always try to play for some Quidditch team or other, but I’m not
sure I want to do that for the rest of my life. You’re still on the Healer track, right, Dee?”

Dorcas nodded. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do,” she said cheerfully. “It won’t be all fun and
games, but it’ll be worth it, I think. Healing is fascinating.”

“You’ll be great at it,” Marlene said, smiling and nudging her best friend.

“Marley’s all in for being an Auror,” Dorcas said to the boys, shooting Marlene a smile in return.

“What can I say? I always hero-worshiped Diana when I was little,” Marlene admitted easily,
referring to Dorcas’ mother, who worked in the Auror office. “What she does sounds so cool, and
all the times I’ve been to the Auror office—it’s just amazing there. It just feels good to be there,
you know?”

Dorcas smiled at her affectionately, her dark brown eyes twinkling slightly in the summer sun.
“Being an Auror does sound amazing,” Sirius broke in. “It’s definitely on my short list of things I’d
like to do after Hogwarts.”

“Perfect,” Marlene said, winking at him. “We can work together.”

“Now you’re making me want to join you two,” James said, smiling in a slightly joking manner.
Then he became more serious. “Mind you, it seems important, especially now.” He didn’t have to
say more—they all knew exactly what he meant. “But is it something I could see myself doing for
the rest of my life? I don’t know.”

“Well, when this is all over, you could always change careers if you wanted,” Dorcas pointed out
reasonably. “And it’s still a ways away.”

“This conversation is way too serious for a bunch of sixteen-year-olds,” Marlene declared after a
moment of all of them being lost in contemplative silence, smiling, leaping to her feet, and wiping
her hands on her napkin. “Where shall we go next?”

They ended up in a thrift store on Tottenham Court Road, browsing the slightly musty aisles of
clothes. Marlene grinned at Sirius, pulling out a shirt from the rack and showing it to him. It was
covered in silver sequins, and Sirius let out a bark of laughter.

“Want me to try it on?” he asked, smirking. Marlene nodded, grinning back.

Sirius stripped his shirt off, glancing over at the shopkeeper to make sure she wasn’t looking, and
pulled the shirt on. Marlene pulled out another sparkly shirt from the rack and replaced her t-shirt,
too. They doubled over in laughter, examining one another, and when James rounded the corner,
they posed back to back, before falling over each other in hysterics.

“We’re ABBA!” Marlene exclaimed, giggling as Dorcas rounded the corner, too.

Dorcas rolled her eyes but didn’t pause long to take in the slightly ridiculous sight they made
before gesturing to her own clothing. She was now wearing a slightly oversized leather jacket and
circled slowly for them to see. “Like it? I think it looks quite cool.”

Sirius had to admit that she was right. Of course, Dorcas had always been beautiful. Her dark
brown eyes, framed by dark lashes, were enchanting, over her wide nose, which had a smattering of
freckles on it, and full lips. When Dorcas smiled, there was something contained in it that just
made everything seem better, Sirius had noticed. The jacket made her look especially attractive,
though. It wasn’t her usual style of flowy dresses and flowered skirts, but she looked cool, and it
accentuated her curves nicely.

Sirius noticed all of this with the air of a detached viewer. However, to say that this had always
been the case would be a lie. Sometime at the end of their fourth year or beginning of fifth, after
years of being indifferent to Dorcas, he’d suddenly been struck by whatever magnetic quality she
possessed that other boys always talked about. It wasn’t just her beauty; it was the way that she
was always overflowing with passion and kindness that had appealed to Sirius. Dorcas was vibrant,
brilliant. She was the kind of person that lit up the whole room, not because of surface-level charm,
but because of her genuine goodness.

Still, as stealthily as it’d come, Sirius’ infatuation with her went. Sirius thought that part of the
reason his infatuation with her had been so subtle and fleeting was that he sensed that Dorcas
wouldn’t be receptive to his feelings. Dorcas’ beauty and kindness were for everyone, but at the
same time, for no one. She was all there, right in front of you brimming with passion and presence,
but at the same time, she seemed as distant as the moon. Sirius couldn’t put his finger on why that
was, but he knew that while he, Marlene, and James had sometimes shared their personal struggles
with the rest, Dorcas had never once done the same. Not with him, anyway.

“You look amazing, Dee,” James said, grinning and slinging an arm around her shoulder, dwarfing
her completely. She shrugged him off, smiling, and went over to survey herself in a mirror.

“It’s not the kind of thing I would normally wear,” she said, examining it from different angles.

“Well, you could always give it to me if you don’t want to wear it,” Marlene said, grinning and
stripping off the sparkly shirt in an unabashed manner, before replacing it again with her new
Aerosmith one. Sirius thought that Dorcas’ eyes became rather unfocused in the mirror all of a
sudden, but he blinked and the look was gone.

“I’m sure you’ll steal it from me sometime or other,” Dorcas replied, smiling lightly and going
back to adjusting the jacket in the mirror.

Marlene was no longer paying full attention but held up another top to her chest for Sirius to
examine. It was strappy and cut off below her breasts.

“Hot,” Sirius said, grinning. Marlene snorted and put it back on the rack.

“This looks like James’ color,” Marlene said, holding up another shirt. This one was made of mesh
and was bright red. James’ face broke into a wide smile, and he stripped off his own shirt, catching
the top as Marlene flung it at him and trying it on, posing ridiculously.

In the end, they were kicked out of the store by the cashier for “public indecency,” but not before
Dorcas had bought her leather jacket. They strode out again on the London streets, laughing and
chasing after one another.

“Oh!” Dorcas exclaimed suddenly, stopping in her tracks and turning excitedly to the rest of them.
“We should go see Big Ben! And the Tower of London!”
“Yes! Let’s do it,” James exclaimed, while Marlene nodded vigorously. Sirius rolled his eyes.

“Big Ben is just a giant clock, you do know that, right?”

“Oh, hush, Londoner,” Marlene responded playfully. They ended up taking the tube to Big Ben,
which, despite Sirius’ exasperation, awed them all. Then, they walked along the river towards the
Tower. They got there just in time for the start of a tour, and followed after it excitedly, absorbed
in the history.

The four teenagers, still unfamiliar with the workings of the world outside their own, looked like
lost ducklings in the large urban setting, staying close together as a group and taking in all the
information offered to them with wonder. All four of them had taken Muggle Studies into their
O.W.L.s and loved it, so it was particularly fascinating to step into some of the Muggle history that
they’d learned about in class.

When the tour was over, the sky was already beginning to darken outside. They bought food from a
vendor on the street, sitting on a park bench to eat it while they discussed what they’d seen thus far
that day.

“Do you think your parents will expect us back soon?” Sirius asked James, gazing at the setting
sun over the Thames. James shook his head.

“I told them we’d probably be out late,” he said. “They said it was fine.”

“It’s a wonder they trust you both to keep yourselves alive without supervision,” Marlene said,
stifling a snort with her hand. James grinned over at her.

“We have supervision,” he said, eyes twinkling mischievously. “Dorcas is our supervision, aren’t
you, Dee?”

Dorcas smiled rather resignedly. “Unofficially, I’ve been supervising you and Marley since we
were seven,” she said. “The question is, when do I get paid for being a babysitter?”

“You should unionize,” James suggested, sticking a chip into his mouth and chewing it happily.

“Well, would you like to supervise us going into that pub after you’ve all finished eating?” Marlene
said, turning her eyes towards the building on the corner, its sign lit up tantalizingly.

Dorcas turned to her, looking rather shocked. “We’re all sixteen bloody years old, Marley!” she
said. “How on earth would we even get in there?”

Marlene smiled widely at her. “Improvisation,” she chirped. “What’s the harm?” Dorcas didn’t
answer, only shook her head tiredly.

Once they’d all finished their fish and chips—they’d all begun to scarf down their food after
Marlene’s suggestion—they cautiously made their way over to the bar. It smelled slightly of stale
drink and urine, and Marlene wrinkled her nose in disgust. There was no one near the entrance
except for a group of men leaning on the side of the building several yards away.

They stank of liquor, and one of them wolf-whistled at Marlene as she walked past them, the rest
hurrying after her. Marlene shot them a disgusted look before pushing the door open to enter the
pub. It had low lighting and was relatively empty, as it was still early in the evening. Marlene
approached the bar, her head held high, eyes bright and determined. The rest followed her, even
Sirius feeling a little apprehensive as he trailed in her wake.
“Four pints, please,” she said to the bartender, a woman in her late twenties who looked them over
with a suspicious eye, then shrugged and pulled out glasses to fill from under the bar. Marlene shot
an “I told you so” look to the other three and grabbed her pint from the counter once it was filled,
handing some Muggle money to the bartender to pay for their drinks. She turned back to what
she’d been doing, and the four teenagers climbed into a booth near the door, trying to suppress
their mischievous laughter.

“She just gave them to us,” James exclaimed in a stage whisper, looking shocked at his own luck,
though he seemed to be trying to conceal it.

“I told you!” Marlene exclaimed triumphantly, grinning. “People don’t care how old we are, not
here.”

“The beauty of London,” Sirius said, smiling before taking a sip of his beer and making a face.
“That’s slightly disgusting.”

James took a long drink, swallowing slowly and nodding thoughtfully. “Gross,” he agreed, before
taking another swig. Marlene laughed while Dorcas looked thoughtfully down at her own pint
before lifting it to her lips and taking a small sip. She smacked her lips together, rolled her eyes at
Marlene, who was staring at her with a wide smile, and then took another sip.

None of them had ever had anything to drink before, and it showed, as only halfway through their
pints, they started to get tipsy, their cheeks becoming flushed and their voices growing louder.

“This is so fun,” Sirius exclaimed, slamming his empty pint down on the table and causing several
other people in the pub to glare at him. “We should do this more often!”

“Drink alcohol?” James suggested, grinning lazily before downing the last drops of his drink, too.

“Explore,” Sirius corrected his best friend, an excited light in his eyes. “But drinking alcohol is also
fun.”

Dorcas hiccuped once, as if in agreement, and Sirius grinned at her across the table. She smiled
back, her eyes slightly unfocused. “Having fun, Dee?”

“Lots of fun,” she responded, hiccuping again in a contented sort of way.

“And you?” Sirius asked, turning his gaze to Marlene. She beamed at him.

“Definitely.” Marlene’s t-shirt already had a small grease stain near the sleeve from the fish and
chips, and there was a bit of foam from the beer on her upper lip. Her cheeks were rather flushed,
making her blue eyes look especially vibrant behind her pale blonde lashes. She looked like a
child’s painting, all vibrant, contrasting colors attracting the eye in an almost violent manner.

Sirius wasn’t sure if it was the intoxication that made him realize at that moment that he thought
she looked very pretty, or something else, but he was surprised by it, no matter where it’d come
from. Briefly, he examined the thought, then stowed it away in his mind for later. It didn’t seem
urgent.

They spent another thirty minutes in the pub, though James vetoed getting more beers, pointing out
that soon, they’d all have to go back home and speak to their parents, who’d probably already be
able to tell that they were sloshed after only one drink. Eventually, it was the bartender kicking
them out for their volume that prompted their departure, and they filed out onto the street, laughing.

“I can’t believe we got kicked out of two places today,” Marlene said between peels of laughter,
slinging her arm around Sirius’ shoulder and stumbling a little.

“I can,” Dorcas said, giggling even as she hiccuped again.

“We’d probably better get home,” James said, grinning too. “We can get the tube back to the
Leaky Cauldron, right?”

“If we can figure out the maps,” Dorcas said. They began to make their slow progress down the
street and away from the bar, knowing they’d find an entrance to the underground sooner or later.

The men on the side of the pub began to holler at Marlene as they walked away. “Fuck off,”
Dorcas said, glaring at them as she passed, Marlene by her side, their arms linked protectively. The
men laughed mockingly.

“Didn’t know blondie needed a protector,” the man in front slurred, looking Dorcas up and down, a
sneer on his pale, pointed face. Dorcas stopped too, ignoring Marlene’s attempts to pull her
forward. She was a good six inches shorter than the smallest among them, but she glowered at
them, unintimidated, her face still flushed from the beer and her eyes bright.

“I didn’t know that grown men could be so pathetic as to spend their free time outside bars,
harassing underage girls,” she retorted before turning to walk away. The man spat on the ground in
front of him and muttered something under his breath that Sirius couldn’t catch. Dorcas’ whole
body seemed to tense, and she increased her pace, dragging Marlene along, who suddenly looked
furious.

“Marlene, come on,” Dorcas said urgently, her tone serious as she implored her best friend.
Marlene relented, allowing Dorcas to tug her around the corner and out of sight of the men.

“Why’d you stop me?” Marlene asked, outraged, once they were out of sight. “I would’ve ripped
them to shreds.” In the light of the streetlamp, Sirius could see that Dorcas’ dark eyes looked
fearful. She avoided Marlene’s insistent blue gaze, not slowing her pace.

“Because it’s safest to walk away from people who use words like that.”

“You weren’t walking away when they were harassing me,” Marlene pointed out, still indignant.

“That’s different,” Dorcas said shortly. The rest of their walk back to Charing Cross Road was
conducted in silence, James looking unusually subdued, Marlene still angry, and Dorcas impassive,
her eyes blank, cheeks no longer flushed slightly red. The event seemed to have sobered them all
up sufficiently, and they descended into the London underground in silence.

The underground was mostly empty, so they got a whole car to themselves as they headed back
towards Charing Cross Road and the Leaky Cauldron. They sat side by side, staring at the side of
the train as the lights of one station flashed by and darkness settled, onto another one. After a
while, Sirius looked over to see that Marlene had put her arm around Dorcas, who was laying her
head on the blonde girl’s shoulder, her eyes closed.

He looked back towards the window, noticing as he did so that there was a greek letter lambda
drawn in black sharpie on it, just big enough for him to make out from across the aisle. He puzzled
over why it might be there for a few minutes, but then they pulled into Embankment Station and
they had to switch trains.

When they finally reached the Leaky Cauldron, the hour hand of the clock on the wall pointed to
the number ten. Tom, the bartender, didn’t comment as they walked in and made a bee-line for the
fireplace. They looked around slightly awkwardly at each other for a moment before breaking into
 smiles. James hugged Dorcas, and Sirius Marlene, before switching.

“Thanks for showing us London,” Dorcas said into Sirius’ shoulder, her breath warm.

“Anytime,” Sirius replied, pulling back and smiling at her.

“See you tomorrow?” James asked the girls, and Marlene smiled and nodded.

“Can you guys come over to Dee’s house?”

“Sounds good,” James said. “We’ll turn up and bug you in the late morning probably.”

“Looking forward to it,” Dorcas replied, smiling, then took a handful of floo powder and threw it
into the flames, stepping in after it. “Meadowes house,” she said, then disappeared into the ash and
flames. Marlene stepped after her, and they were gone.

James took another handful of powder, threw it into the flames, and stepped in. “Potter residence,”
he said, then spun out of sight. Sirius followed him, the flames licking his ears for a couple of
seconds before he repeated James’ words and was swallowed in soot and darkness, spinning
towards home.

Chapter End Notes

Okay, okay, bear with me with this. I know it must be annoying to hear Sirius talking
about his attraction to women, but this fic isn’t labeled slow burn for nothing. All in
good time.

As there will be continued involvement of Aurors throughout this fic, I thought I

should give this disclaimer: I don't personally view the Aurors as necessarily
equivalent to police in the magical world. There seems to be a different structure of
policing, given that there's a Magical Law Enforcement Squad as well that's
mentioned, and it seems like Aurors deal mostly with more serious threats, like those
posed by dark wizards. More than that, though, I want to separate Aurors from real-
world cops for the purposes of this fic. As I live in the US, I know that our system of
policing is incredibly corrupt, and how police officers are trained and chosen for their
work perpetuates this, allowing horrible atrocities to continue to happen to
marginalized people. While I don't believe that JKR could come up with any good
ideas about how the justice system works in the wizarding world so that it's better than
ours, this is my fic, and I'm allowed to fill in the gaps. In my head, there are different
sectors in the Ministry that respond to different issues, and given that there are
indications in canon that Aurors go through extensive training, I like to think that some
of that training is about de-escalation and harm reduction, too.

Bottom line: I'm really not trying to align any of these characters with real-world cops
or to glorify law enforcement, as it exists in our world today to enforce systems of
oppression.
 1976: Dog Days

The heat of the summer descended upon England early that year, with a ferocity that the country
had never before seen. Thus, most people were forced inside, left to open their windows to tempt a
nonexistent breeze, and, for those who had it, putting their air conditioning on full blast. Even in
the latter part of August, many Brits were still sheltering from the unusual heat and the drought
that came along with it. Marlene, Dorcas, James, and Sirius weren’t among them, however, and
were stubbornly spending their time outside whenever they could.

That day, instead of meeting at the Potter property on Blacksmith Hill, Marlene and Dorcas had
again persuaded Sirius and James to come to Brighton, where Dorcas lived. Marlene had always
loved Dorcas’ home. Like James’ and unlike Marlene’s—which was in the suburbs of Oxford,
close to where her mother worked as a professor of magical history—Dorcas’ house was in the
countryside. Unlike James’, however, Dorcas’ house lay in a valley, the backyard sloping down
gently into a grassy field. Directly behind the house was a garden that Dorcas’ father, Thomas,
used to grow potion ingredients, but a few yards out from the house, it receded into long grass and
wildflowers, shaded by a few hazel trees along the borders.

It was paradise, in Marlene’s opinion, an opinion which was shared by Dorcas, and to a lesser
extent James and Sirius, who preferred the Potters’ large property with its Quidditch pitch and
pond. Still, Marlene and Dorcas had spent four whole years playing in the field at the back of the
Meadowes’ property before James had shown up, and what little Marlene remembered of those
years were some of the best memories of her life.

As the sun beat down upon the field that day, the four of them whiled away the hours, counting
down the time until they’d be back on the Hogwarts grounds in Scotland, where it almost never got
this warm. They lounged in the shade of the hazel trees, drinking cold pumpkin juice and trying to
shake away the haze that came over all of them when it was this warm. To pass the time, Marlene
took to counting the petals of the wildflowers which grew in the field. Daisies and red poppies
surrounded them, standing out against the dry grass. Marlene plucked them from the earth
carelessly, dusted them off, and ran her fingers over their soft petals.

After counting, she tossed the flowers, one by one, at each of her three friends surrounding her.
Dorcas, laying on her stomach in the grass, only rolled her eyes at her best friend’s behavior, but
grabbed the daisies tossed her way to add to the flower crown she was making. James, who was
propped against the trunk of the tree, his eyes closed, ignored her completely, even when she
managed to throw one of the poppies in such a way that it wedged itself into the space between his
glasses and the bridge of his nose.

Sirius, however, after being hit in the face one too many times by a flying flower, finally snapped
and grabbed Marlene around the waist, picking her up off the ground and spinning her around in a
circle as she laughed and told him to let her down. He dropped her unceremoniously back on the
ground after only a few moments, losing interest, and she rubbed her bruised backside, scowling at
him as he flopped down on his back dramatically.

“I’m bored,” he whined, looking up at the sky. “And I’m all sticky from this heat.”

Dorcas snorted slightly. “Charming,” she said, not looking around at him as she tied the ends of her
daisy crown together and placed it on her head.

“Summer is boring, what can you do?” Marlene said, picking another red poppy and twirling it in
her fingers.
“We could do something fun,” Sirius said, his grey eyes thoughtful, looking up at the blue,
cloudless sky.

“Any bright ideas?” Marlene asked after the pause grew long. Sirius groaned.

“I can’t think when it’s this hot,” he said dramatically, closing his eyes. “I can’t believe the pond is
all dried up. I wish we could go swimming.”

“Well, if you really want to,” Marlene said mischievously, pulling out her wand from the elastic
that kept her hair in its neat bun. “Aguamenti!”

A jet of water shot out of Marlene’s wand and hit Sirius squarely in the face, drenching him
completely. Sirius’ eyelids flew open in shock and he leapt to his feet, Marlene doing the same as
he began to chase her around the tree that James was leaning against.

“That was completely uncalled for, McKinnon!” Sirius said, though there was a grin on his face as
he ran after her. She was quite a bit faster than him, so she turned and sent another jet of water
toward him, this one hitting him in the chest.

Her laughter continued as he spluttered in surprise and redoubled his pace, chasing her as Dorcas
and James watched in amusement. “This is absolutely unfair,” Sirius exclaimed, panting slightly.
“You’re faster than me, and you know Mrs. Potter made me leave my wand at home.”

“Maybe if you’d been a bit more stealthy about your magic use, you’d have it on you,” Marlene
said, laughing and shooting another jet of water over her shoulder at him. In her haste, however,
she stumbled over a branch on the ground and went tumbling into the long grass. In seconds, Sirius
was on top of her, lifting her up by the waist and giving her a big, wet bear hug as she cried out
helplessly, still half-laughing.

“You reap what you sow, Marley,” Dorcas commented, smiling as Sirius put Marlene down.
Marlene wasn’t completely soaked, not like Sirius, whose shoulder-length hair was sticking to his
neck, droplets of water running down it toward his collarbones. Marlene took in the sight for a little
too long apparently, given the knowing grin that Sirius threw her.

“What’re you looking at, McKinnon?” Sirius teased, breaking the effect slightly by sneezing.

“You smell like a wet dog,” Marlene told him, wrinkling her nose in mock disgust. James began to
laugh from the tree, and Sirius, without much hesitation, joined in.

“I’m the best-trained dog of all time, then,” he joked, stepping away from Marlene and back
towards the tree to sit beside James. Marlene followed him, settling herself down near Dorcas
again.

“You’d be the worst-trained dog ever,” she retorted. “I bet you’d be the type to shed all over the
place and chew everyone’s shoes.”

“What do you think, Prongs?” Sirius asked, chuckling. “Would I eat shoes?”

James shrugged, seeming to work hard to contain his grin. “Who can say?”

“If I was a dog, what would you name me, then?” Sirius asked Marlene, his grey eyes twinkling
with mirth.

Marlene contemplated this for a moment, then smiled. “Snuffles,” she announced with certainty.
“Perfect name for you.”
James guffawed louder, and Dorcas joined in, too, at the outraged look on Sirius’ face.
“Snuffles?!” Sirius demanded. “I am not a Snuffles! Tell Marley I’m not a Snuffles, James!” But
James was laughing so hard he could barely catch his breath, his cheeks flushed as he clutched his
stomach, wheezing, tears streaming down his face.

“That’s about the worst name for a dog I’ve ever heard, Marley,” Dorcas commented, smiling.
Marlene shrugged, grinning back, though she had to admit that she was a little perplexed about why
the boys found it so funny.

“I think it’s quite fetching,” she said. “Sure you don’t wanna go in and dry off, Sirius? You might
catch a cold.” She smirked at him, and he glared back at her, crossing his arms over his wet chest.

“No, I’m perfectly alright, thanks,” he said mutinously. Marlene shot him a wink.

“Up to you.”

Sirius smiled slightly and rested his head back against the tree, closing his eyes. Marlene regarded
him with a tinge of interest, noting the line of his jaw and the curve of his waist, visible through his
wet shirt. His cheeks flushed slightly, and Marlene knew he could feel her studying him. She
turned away and caught Dorcas staring at her, a slight crease between her eyebrows as she watched
Marlene examine Sirius. Dorcas looked away and began to play with a stem of grass next to her.

“You know what’d be fun?” Sirius said suddenly, opening his eyes and sitting up from the tree.

“What?” James, Marlene, and Dorcas all asked in unison.

Sirius looked at Marlene, an evil grin spreading across his face. “You remember in fourth year
when you promised to pierce my ears?”

“You’re not serious,” James said incredulously.

“I’m always serious,” Sirius replied, not missing a beat, his smile only widening. Marlene grinned,
too.

....

They ended up in the bathroom on the ground floor of the Meadowes house. It was slightly cooler
in there, with only a small window and given the cold tile on the floor. Dorcas had followed them
in reluctantly and was sitting on the closed toilet, gazing at them anxiously as they looked in the
first aid kit for a needle.

“This is such a bad idea,” she said, glancing up at James for support from where he was hovering
at the door, looking torn between excitement and apprehension. “Please tell them this is a bad idea,
Jamie.”

“I found one!” Marlene exclaimed, ignoring Dorcas and holding up a thin needle triumphantly.
“Where do you want your ears pierced, Sirius?”

“Just on the lobes,” Sirius replied, also ignoring his other two friends’ obvious nerves.

Dorcas’ eyes widened, and she leapt up from the toilet, grabbing Marlene’s arm as she made to
move closer to Sirius. “You can’t just do it like that!” she protested, giving her best friend an
incredulous and alarmed look. “You have to disinfect it!”

“Well then, Ms. Future Healer,” Marlene said, smiling teasingly over at her, not seeming fazed at
all at the grip Dorcas had on her. “You show us how it’s done.”

Dorcas looked torn, staring from the needle in Marlene’s hand to Marlene and Sirius, who both had
wide grins on their faces. Dorcas finally sighed, relenting.

“Fine,” she said. “We need hydrogen peroxide and a lighter, and I’m going to get a pair of my
earrings to put in once Sirius’ ears are pierced.”

Sirius and Marlene exchanged a triumphant look while Dorcas left the room. Marlene put the
needle down on the bathroom counter and opened the cabinet under the sink, pulling out a bottle of
hydrogen peroxide, while Sirius produced a lighter from his pocket. Marlene looked at it in
confusion.

“Why do you have that?”

Sirius shrugged, his expression innocent. “Useful thing to have around.”

Marlene gave him a disbelieving look, then rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say,” she said. “Just
don’t turn into a pyromaniac and burn Dorcas’ house down.”

Sirius grinned. “No promises,” he said, flicking the lighter on and waving it jokingly in front of
him.

Dorcas appeared back in the doorway and walked over to where Sirius and Marlene were standing,
clearly unfazed by the open flame. She placed a pair of simple silver studs onto the counter and
poured a generous amount of hydrogen peroxide onto them, then grabbed a tissue and doused that,
too, handing it over to Sirius. Sirius extinguished the lighter and placed it on the counter.

“Wipe that on your ears where you want them to be pierced,” Dorcas directed. “It’ll disinfect
them.”

Sirius did as she asked, and Dorcas grabbed the lighter, flicking it on deftly and holding the needle
up to the flame. It glowed red after only a moment, but Dorcas held it there for a few more seconds
before closing the lighter and letting the needle return to its usual silver color. Once it was cool,
Dorcas wiped it down with hydrogen peroxide, too, then offered it to Marlene.

“You’re not going to do it?” Marlene asked, raising her eyebrows at Dorcas.

“Oh, absolutely bloody not,” Dorcas said. “I did my part by making sure we do everything possible
to make sure that Sirius doesn’t get an infection, but you’re the one that signed up to physically
pierce his ears, so that’s your job.”

“Okay,” Marlene agreed, laughing and taking the needle. “Anything else I should know?”

Dorcas shrugged. “I’m no expert,” she said. “But I’d pierce them quick, then leave the needle in
for a bit to make sure it doesn’t close immediately. Then probably put the earrings in right after.”

“Alright,” Marlene said, looking at Sirius. “Ready to go, then?”

Sirius grinned and nodded, and Marlene approached him, holding the needle aloft. She glanced for
a moment at his profile, then, without hesitation, pierced his right ear.

“Fucking hell, Marley!” Sirius yelled, grabbing the side of the counter to steady himself. “No
warning or anything?”
“Thought it’d be better without,” Marlene said, shrugging and smiling, rotating the needle slowly
to widen the hole. “Does it hurt a lot?”

“Not that much,” Sirius said. “You just shocked me.”

“How long should I keep it in, Dee?” Marlene asked, looking towards the doorway. Only then did
she realize that Dorcas and James were both standing stock still, looking guiltily at Thomas
Meadowes, who’d been standing there for who knew how long, his arms crossed, a stern look on
his lined face.

Marlene looked from the needle in her hand, which was still in Sirius’ earlobe, back to Dorcas’
father, her mouth slightly open as she tried to think of what to say. “Hey, Thomas,” she said feebly,
trying to smile.

The corner of his mouth twitched slightly. “What, may I ask, is going on in here?”

“Uh...we were piercing Sirius’ ears?” James said, his voice rising at the end in a question. Thomas
Meadowes raised his dark eyebrows.

“I can see that,” he said evenly. “And you decided to do so in our lavatory at home, instead of at a
shop, or even with an adult present?”

“Yes?” Marlene said, her guilty tone making the statement also sound more like a question.
Nevertheless, she had to suppress a smile. It was funny to see Thomas Meadowes try to look stern.
Usually, Diana, Dorcas’ mother, was the enforcer, as she had a stern, Auror air about her. Thomas
shook his head in exasperation and disbelief.

“Dorcas disinfected everything!” Sirius said, obviously trying to help their case, but Dorcas shot
him a glare, giving a slight shake of her head to indicate that he stop talking. Dorcas’ father turned
to her, a look of resignation on his face.

“I guess I always knew one day these three would rub off on you,” he said. “I think it’s time for
them to leave now. No more body alterations today.”

“Sorry, dad,” Dorcas said, giving him a slight, apologetic smile. He only shook his head, barely
suppressing his own smile.

“I won’t tell your mum about this if you won’t tell her that I didn’t know it was going on until
after,” he said, putting an affectionate hand on her shoulder. She smiled up at him.

“Deal.”

“Technically, you came in in the middle,” Marlene offered helpfully. “We’ve only done one ear.”

“Thank you, Marlene,” Thomas said, turning his gaze back to her. “You won’t be doing the other
one today. So if you’d kindly remove the needle from Sirius’ ear and clean up, that would be
great.”

James laughed, and Marlene complied sheepishly. Dorcas helped Sirius put one of the silver studs
in his ear and threw away the needle, replacing the hydrogen peroxide in the bathroom cabinet and
giving the lighter back to Sirius. Thomas Meadowes supervised the process, keeping a watchful
eye on them as they exited the bathroom.

As she hugged her friends goodbye, Dorcas whispered in Sirius’ ear, just loud enough for Marlene
to overhear, but not loud enough for her father to listen in: “I guess I have to keep my promise to
make you a dragon earring now.”

Sirius grinned at her, and one by one, James, Sirius, and Marlene stepped into the green flames in
the fireplace to return to their homes.

....

Unfortunately, despite Thomas Meadowes’ promise not to tell Dorcas’ mother about the incident,
Euphemia Potter had spotted the silver stud in Sirius’ ear all by herself. Upon discovering how it’d
gotten there, she’d grounded the two boys for three days.

“At least she didn’t heal it,” Sirius said, admiring his earring in the mirror of his room later that day
while James lay on his bed, playing with the Snitch that Marlene had stolen at the end of the
previous year.

“Nah, she wouldn’t do that,” James said, tossing the feebly fluttering Snitch from hand to hand.
“She doesn’t care that you have a piercing. She just thinks we’re idiots for doing it ourselves.”

Sirius laughed. “My mother would pitch a fit if she saw me with an earring,” he remarked. “Marley
said she could do the other one later if I wanted, but I think just having one is even cooler than two,
actually. I like it.”

James glanced over at him, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Something had been nagging at his
mind for several weeks. At first, he’d hesitated to bring it up to Sirius, as he was the first to admit
that he wasn’t the best observer, and could be getting his facts entirely wrong. Now, however, he
was almost sure he wasn’t imagining things.

“Sirius,” James said, after a pause. “What in the world are you doing with Marley?”

Sirius’ eyes widened for a moment in the mirror, and he cast a surprised look over his shoulder at
James. “That came out of the fucking blue,” he remarked, an incredulous grin spreading across his
face. “What d’you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, Padfoot. I’ve picked up on the flirting,” James said, rolling his eyes. “Look, I
know you’ve had a rough go of it, and maybe you want an outlet. But...Marley? I’ve known her
since I was seven. Really?”

Sirius only shook his head, laughing. “Prongs, come on,” he said. “It’s just all in good fun. Mine
and Marley’s little joke, I promise.”

James raised his eyebrows doubtfully. “Uh-huh,” he said, sounding unconvinced.

“Okay, I’ll admit,” Sirius said, lowering his voice slightly, despite the fact that no one was around
to overhear them. “She’s fit. I hadn’t really noticed it until recently, but she is. Still, she’s one of
my best friends. I wouldn’t go there.”

James made a disgusted face when Sirius commented on Marlene’s appearance. “You and Marley
have a tendency to take your jokes too far,” he said after he’d stopped cringing. “Just...don’t hurt
her, okay?”

“I think you’re giving me a bit too much credit if you think that I’d be able to get to Marley in any
way. She’s tougher than any of us,” Sirius remarked. “Chill, Prongs.” But James still wasn’t
convinced. He looked at his best friend with resignation and shook his head after a moment,
sighing.
“Whatever you say, Padfoot.”

Sirius didn’t have the chance to reply, however, as there was a knock on the door. Fleamont Potter
stood there, smiling at them. “How’s your ear feeling, Sirius?” he asked.

Sirius grinned back. “It’s fine,” he said. “Doesn’t my earring look cool?”

“I will choose not to answer that question, as my answer could get me scolded by Euphemia for
encouraging you boys,” Fleamont responded, giving Sirius a wink. Sirius beamed happily.

“What’s up, dad?” James asked, sitting up from his bed. Fleamont gave him a slight, mischievous
smile.

“Now, I know you’re grounded, and I shouldn’t be rewarding you for your recklessness, as
Euphemia puts it, but I just came across something in the attic that I thought you boys might like.”
He held out the objects in his hands, and James realized that he was holding two rectangular
mirrors. Sirius and James moved closer curiously.

“What are they?” James asked, exchanging a confused glance with Sirius as Fleamont handed him
one of the mirrors, and Sirius the other.

“Two-way mirrors,” Fleamont explained excitedly. “I found them in a box of old family heirlooms.
My father used to tell me about them when I was a boy. He used them when he was young, but I
never looked for them until now. If you speak the name of the person who owns the other mirror
into yours, their face will appear. It’s like talking on those Muggle telephones!”

“Wow,” Sirius said breathlessly, looking down at the mirror in his hands in sudden wonder, as if it
was a treasure of immeasurable worth.

“Try them out!” Fleamont urged.

“James,” Sirius said into the mirror that he was holding, and James’ mirror vibrated slightly. When
James held the mirror up to his face, his reflection rippled and disappeared, replaced with Sirius’.
Sirius gasped, and James knew that his own face must have appeared in the other mirror.

“Blimey,” James said, and heard his voice issuing from both his mouth and the mirror that Sirius
was holding, several feet away.

“Wicked,” Sirius said, tilting his mirror from side to side as he looked at it. “We can use these to
contact each other when we’re not together, like in detentions.”

Fleamont beamed. “I thought you lads would enjoy them,” he said conspiratorially. “Now, just
don’t tell your mother. She might not approve.” He bade them goodbye, leaving James and Sirius
to examine the mirrors, awed by their new tools of mischief making.

“Now with the map finished, these mirrors, and the invisibility cloak, Hogwarts will be no match,”
James said, lowering his mirror. Sirius grinned and lowered his, too, his face disappearing from
James’ as he did so.

“McGonagall is going to love us this year.”

 1976: The Miseducation of Sirius Black
Chapter Notes

cw: internalized homophobia/biphobia, use of the word queer as a slur

See the end of the chapter for more notes

For the first time in Sirius’ memory, the end of the summer came sooner than he would’ve liked.
Perhaps it was the fact that he’d never felt more at home in his life than when he was living with
the Potters, or that they’d finally gotten Remus to spend some of his summer with them, so Sirius
didn’t have to miss him. There was also Sirius’ nagging feeling of dread about returning to
Hogwarts to contend with, as the thought of what’d happened during the previous term still brought
a bad taste to his mouth. Part of Sirius was afraid that once they returned, Remus would become
distant again, back in the place where Sirius’ betrayal still lingered. Sirius couldn’t stand the
thought of Remus fading away from him once more, so he tried with all his might to push the
worry from his mind.

Still, the first of September found all four Marauders in their usual compartment, being transported
smoothly through the British countryside towards Hogwarts. A few minutes after the journey
began, Lily came to the door to get Remus so that they could walk to the prefects’ compartment
together. Her dark red hair, which had fallen down her back for as long as Sirius had known her,
had now been chopped to shoulder length. Sirius thought that the look suited her. At least he
wouldn’t have to worry about her turning on her heel and smacking him in the face with her hair
anymore.

“Hey, Evans,” Sirius greeted, sending her a grin. “Good summer?”

Lily glanced at him, for a fraction of a second looking as if she was trying to decide how to act
towards him—if she should be hostile or friendly. After a moment, she smiled. “It was alright,” she
responded. “Yours?”

“Brilliant,” Sirius said, grinning widely at her. So far, he liked this new Snape-free Evans, at least
much more than the previous version. “Have you come to collect Moony?”

Lily smiled over at Remus. “If he wants to be collected,” she said. “We have a prefect meeting.”

“Anything to get me away from these hellions,” Remus said, standing up and grinning at Lily.
James, Peter, and Sirius all made outraged noises while Lily smiled, turning to leave the
compartment with Remus following her.

“See you later,” Remus said as he left, giving them a quick smile over his shoulder.

Once the door slid closed, James opened his mouth to speak, grinning, but Sirius rolled his eyes
and interrupted him. “Please don’t start,” he said. “I don’t want to hear about how good Evans
looks.”

“You said it, not me,” James said, shrugging. “Anyway, I just watched you flirt with a girl who’s
practically my sister for half the summer. I think you’re obligated to listen to me talk about
Evans.”
“You’ve been doing what, now?” Peter asked Sirius, his eyebrows raised in amused surprise. Sirius
had to remind himself that Peter and Remus hadn’t spent much time with Marlene and Dorcas over
the summer while they were at James’. Somehow, their visits never seemed to overlap much.
Sirius exchanged an exasperated glance with James, then addressed Peter.

“James is overreacting,” he said, and James snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “Me and
Marley are just...joking around.”

Peter stared at Sirius for a moment, then threw his head back and laughed. “You fancy Marley
now?” he asked after his laughter died down.

“What? No!” Sirius said, giving him an incredulous look.

“Things always start as a joke with you two,” Peter said, shaking his head. “Merlin, this is going to
play out strangely.”

“Nothing’s going to play out in any way,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes at them. “I don’t fancy
Marley, she doesn’t fancy me, and you’re both delusional.”

James and Peter exchanged an incredulous glance but dropped the subject. Sirius still felt
mutinous, however, at the knowing looks on their faces. Whether they believed it or not, he knew
he wasn’t deluding himself about the nature of his and Marlene’s relationship. Whatever their
banter had turned into in the past months, it didn’t have to do with either having feelings for one
another, just the built-up sexual frustration of being sixteen. Neither he nor Marlene had ever been
ones to stand with social convention, after all, and so neither cared if their friendship would be
considered normal by most people’s standards.

It was like a game of chicken: once one of them engaged in a joke, the other had to follow. The
further they took it, the more they wanted to continue the joke, to show each other up. When they’d
been twelve, it’d involved elaborate pranks and subsequent detentions because they’d been too
daring together. These days, it involved playful shoves, winks, and teasing glances, but it was the
same game as ever.

“Hello, earth to Sirius!” an amused voice said, and Sirius blinked to see a hand waving in front of
his face. He looked up to see Marlene’s freckled face above him, Dorcas beside her. She laughed
and sat down across from him.

“Daydreaming?” she asked.

“Maybe,” Sirius said, winking at her. She smirked, and James covered his face with his hand and
groaned.

“Oh,” Peter said thoughtfully, looking between them. “I see what you mean.”

Marlene and Sirius both laughed. “You’re too sensitive, James,” Marlene said. “You must know by
now that we do it partly just to annoy you.”

“Well, mission accomplished. Can you stop now?” James asked dramatically, his words muffled in
his hand. Marlene and Sirius shared an amused look, then began to laugh again. James sat up,
looked at them both in annoyance, then turned away. Dorcas, from beside Marlene, opened a book
on her lap and buried her nose in it. Dorcas had been quieter than usual for the latter portion of the
summer, Sirius had noticed, though he didn’t know why, and they weren’t close enough for him to
feel comfortable asking her about it.

“So, when are you going to hold tryouts for the Quidditch team, Captain?” Marlene asked James,
giving him a mock salute. James smiled, looking down at the gleaming Quidditch Captain badge
on his chest.

“Maybe this weekend,” he said. “Hopefully we find some good people; we have three positions
open.”

“I’m sure we will,” Marlene said. Sirius knew that she was trying to keep a note of bitterness out of
her voice. They’d all known that James would be appointed Captain after Florence graduated, but
Sirius knew that Marlene couldn’t help but be a little disappointed nonetheless. James was a born
leader, but the two had started the team at the same time.

“All I want is for the new team to be free of couples,” Marlene continued, giving a little shudder. “I
don’t want to walk in on anyone in the locker rooms like we did with Marcus and Florey.”

“Eughhh,” James said, closing his eyes and shaking his head vigorously as if to clear it of an
unpleasant memory. “Don’t bring that up, Marley. That image was already seared into my brain for
a week afterward.” They both shuddered.

“At least they weren’t lovey-dovey,” Marlene conceded. “We barely knew they were in a
relationship most of the time. Mind you, didn’t they also hide it from us for a whole term?”

“I think they got together over the summer before their seventh year,” James said, spinning his
wand between his fingers. “And then we found out pretty quick.”

“I thought they got together the term before their last summer,” Marlene said, then shrugged.
“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Anyway, James, just impose a no-dating rule for the team.”

“Gladly,” James said. He nodded to Sirius. “You’re still trying out, right?”

“That’s the plan,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes. “Why do you keep asking me?”

“Just making sure you’re not backing out on me,” James said.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Stop worrying,” he said. “You don’t have to keep an eye on me through
Quidditch. We live in the same dorm, and I’m not a ticking time bomb, anyway.”

James threw him a look. “You’ve always been a ticking time bomb,” he said, but his tone was light,
and Sirius knew that he was joking. The door slid open again, and Remus was back. He didn’t look
surprised to see Marlene and Dorcas, only smiled, moving past them to reclaim his seat.

“Hello Marlene, Dorcas,” he said.

“Hi Remus,” Dorcas said, looking up from her book and smiling at him. “Did you just have a
prefect meeting?”

“Yeah,” Remus confirmed, lounging back in his seat. “Just the usual: patrol the corridors,
apprehend everyone doing anything remotely fun, etcetera.”

“Have some respect for the system, Moony,” Sirius said, pulling a scandalized face. “We need
prefects and professors to set the rules so it’s even more spectacular when we break them. You
should know that by now.”

“And what side am I on in this scenario?” Remus inquired wryly.

“Whatever side you claim at the time, knowing you,” James broke in with a grin.
“Who are the Head Boy and Girl this year?” Dorcas asked curiously.

“Frank Longbottom and Alice Fortescue,” Remus replied.

“Aren’t they dating?” Marlene asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Since last year, I think,” Remus replied. “They’re not very overt about it, though. You wouldn’t
be able to tell unless you knew.”

“Not a fan of PDA, Moony?” James inquired mischievously.

“Not particularly,” Remus said. “Not the way a lot of couples at Hogwarts do it, anyway.”

They all laughed a little at that. It was true that Hogwarts students—or perhaps it was just
teenagers in general—had little common decency when it came to where it was appropriate to snog.

“So, what have I missed?” Remus asked, shifting in his seat slightly. His long legs were awkward
in the cramped compartment, one bent and one stretched out, his foot bumping against Sirius’.
Remus had cleared six feet sometime over the summer, and Sirius only prayed that he wouldn’t
continue to grow at the rate he’d done for the past few months. Sirius already felt rather dwarfed by
both Remus and James, and he imagined Peter felt even more so.

“Nothing much,” James said. “We were only talking about Quidditch. I just remembered, though:
Marley, where’d you abandon Tyler?”

“I didn’t abandon him anywhere!” Marlene said, frowning defensively. “He ran off to join a
couple of other first years in a compartment further down the train.”

“Your brother’s starting this year?” Peter confirmed, looking from James to Marlene. Marlene
nodded, rolling her eyes.

“It was all he went on about for the whole summer,” she said.

“Like Hogwarts wasn’t all you talked about before we started our first year,” Dorcas pointed out,
raising her eyebrows and smiling over the top of her book at her best friend. Marlene huffed out an
exasperated sigh.

“Yeah, well, I still get to be annoyed,” she replied.

“Do you think he’ll be in Gryffindor?” Sirius asked.

Marlene shrugged. “Who knows? My dad was in Hufflepuff and my mam was in Ravenclaw, so
it’s not exactly genetic. He’ll be a right pain in my arse if he gets sorted into Gryffindor, though.”

“Oh, hush,” Dorcas said. “Tyler will be great wherever he goes.”

“Well, obviously,” Marlene said. “I’m just saying that I’d be annoyed.”

James covered a smile with his hand, and Dorcas shook her head in amusement. Sirius had barely
met Marlene’s younger brother, Tyler, as they rarely ever spent any time at Marlene’s house over
the summer. He was rather small and scrawny, from what Sirius remembered, with shaggy, dirty
blond hair like Marlene’s, and a face full of freckles. Unlike Marlene, however, he’d always
seemed rather mellow and soft-spoken whenever Sirius had been around and kept to himself.

“I’m betting on Ravenclaw,” Dorcas said. “Tyler always has his nose in a book.”
“True,” Marlene conceded. “I think my mam is hoping for Ravenclaw, too. She’s been telling Tyler
lots of stories about her common room and Ravenclaw Tower over the last few weeks.”

“Did she do that with you?”

“A little,” Marlene remarked, scratching a bug bite on her arm absentmindedly. “But I think we all
sort of knew where I’d end up, so not at the same level.”

“Imogen’s too smart to think you’d be a Ravenclaw,” Dorcas remarked, smirking slightly. “She
told me a lot about Ravenclaw Tower before we started, though.” Everyone laughed at that, and
they continued to chat amicably as they continued their journey toward the castle.

At the opening feast that night, Tyler McKinnon was indeed sorted into Ravenclaw, and Marlene,
Dorcas, and James all thoroughly embarrassed him by clapping loudly and cheering as he sat
down. He glared at them as he passed the table, and Marlene stuck her tongue out at him. Still,
Sirius caught him giving her a nervous look as the feast ended and the prefects started chivying the
first years toward their dormitories, and she nodded and smiled back at him encouragingly.

“You’re a softie, Marley,” Sirius said, elbowing her teasingly. She turned to him and rolled her
eyes, then shrugged.

“Yeah,” she conceded.

....

The first week of their sixth year showed Sirius that if he’d thought that O.W.L. year was the worst
Hogwarts had to offer, he would’ve been sorely mistaken. Now, all the teachers were demanding
that they work harder than ever. Even in the first week, all of the Gryffindor sixth years were
strained, though no one more than Dorcas, who’d elected to take eight classes onto N.E.W.T. level.
Sirius, James, and Marlene were all still trying to figure out how she had time to eat and sleep, as
they were each only taking five courses, and were already groaning under the pressure.

The Gryffindors lined up reluctantly outside Slughorn’s Potions class on Friday morning, all
wishing that it was the weekend already. All of the sixth-year Gryffindors had elected to continue
with Potions onto their N.E.W.T.s except for Remus, who hated the subject with a fiery passion,
and who wasn’t very talented at it, either. Sirius, though good at the subject, didn’t like it as much
as D.A.D.A. and Transfiguration, preferring spellcasting to potion making.

When Slughorn ushered them into the dungeon that day, there were a variety of cauldrons placed
around the room, each already full to the brim with different potions. Sirius looked around at them
curiously. Some looked familiar, while the identity of others was a complete mystery to him. There
was a delicious scent in the air that day, one which Sirius couldn’t quite place, and he wondered
which cauldron it might be coming from. He, James, Peter, Dorcas, and Marlene took a table for
themselves near a cauldron whose contents were bubbling slowly and thickly. Sirius looked into it
as he passed and grimaced.

“Now then,” Slughorn said once they were all seated. “Please take out your books and potion
making tools. As you can see, I’ve prepared a couple of interesting potions for you to take a look at
today. These are all ones that you should know how to brew by the end of your N.E.W.T.s. Can
anyone tell me what this one is?”

Slughorn pointed to the cauldron the furthest to Sirius’ left. It was filled with clear liquid, almost
like water. Sirius thought he knew what it was: Veritaserum, the truth potion. He remembered
hearing one of his father’s friends, who was on the Wizengamot, laughing about it one night from
the drawing room in Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place while a bunch of rich, powerful wizards
were having drinks together.

“The Ministry can’t use Veritaserum anymore in trials,” he’d said. “Since that law introduced in
1969. All I had to do was whisper in that fool’s ear about free will and mind control and it was
gone. Good news for us. No forced confessions, money passes hands, and no one cares who you
curse anymore.”

The echoes of laughter from the past faded as Sirius returned to the class at hand. Lily was
answering Slughorn as he asked about the second potion. After introducing the potion in front of
their desk—Polyjuice Potion, which allowed someone to change their appearance to impersonate
someone else—Slughorn moved onto the next cauldron, which sat next to the table that Mary,
Lily, Emmeline, and Hestia had chosen for themselves. It was a peculiar color, and shone brightly,
steam lifting in spirals from its surface.

Now that Sirius focused on it, he realized that it was the source of the amazing smell that he’d
noted upon entering the room. He thought it smelled like a combination of lake water on a hot day,
pages of old library books, bergamot, and something else that Sirius couldn’t quite describe, but
reminded him of the wool sweaters that Remus often wore, and filled his chest with warmth.

“Does anyone know what this potion is called?” Slughorn asked, smiling around at the class
mischievously. Dorcas raised her hand.

“It’s Amortentia, sir,” she said when he turned his gaze onto her, and Slughorn beamed even wider.

“Yes, indeed!” he exclaimed. “I suppose your father has taught you all about it, then? Is it one of
the ones he routinely brews for sale?”

“No, actually, he thinks it should be regulated more strongly,” Dorcas replied flatly, frowning up at
Slughorn. Slughorn chuckled.

“He always was rather opinionated,” he remarked, and Sirius could tell Dorcas was trying hard to
suppress a biting retort. Slughorn didn’t see her roll her eyes behind his back as he turned away.

“Now, Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in the world,” Slughorn said briskly.
“Powerful, and dangerous at times. If you haven’t already, take a whiff when you pass next. It will
smell differently to each person according to what attracts them, so naturally, the scent can be quite
intoxicating in itself.”

Slughorn chuckled again, then moved on to the next cauldron. Sirius wasn’t listening to him,
however. His eyes were fixed on the spirals rising up from the cauldron, and his mind was
suddenly blank.

The amazing smell that he’d picked up on before seemed to overpower him. He could easily
explain away the first two components, of course. He could easily identify the scent of the pond
near James’ house, as well as that of the libraries he’d spent so much of his childhood in. No, it
was the other scents that were smacking him in the face with the force of a brick wall. He felt
winded, the air knocked out of his lungs with the sudden rush of truth that’d hit him.

Almost against his will, Sirius continued to take deep breaths, breathing the fumes of the potion in,
his eyes moving back and forth rapidly, though he wasn’t really seeing anything in front of him.
The more Sirius breathed in the smell, the more the scents of bergamot and wool overpowered the
rest, and the harder it was for him to explain them away. He was so familiar with these scents, as
they clung to everything in his dormitory and often drifted from class to class with him during the
school year, attached to Remus. Remus, who always smelled a bit like wool even when he was
wearing a t-shirt over the summer. Remus, who always drank Earl Grey tea in the mornings, and
subsequently smelled like bergamot all day long. Remus.

Sirius was frozen, though his brain was working overtime. Remus had a free period, was nowhere
nearby, and yet Sirius could smell him as if the other boy was sitting next to him, and there was
the single, undeniable, frustratingly confusing fact that his scent was coming from the potion
bubbling innocently in front of Lily. He glared at it. The surface didn’t change, and the mist
continued to rise from the surface, taking no notice of his evil eye. Perhaps he could cause the
potion to explode, making the contents splatter across the dungeon...though perhaps that would just
bring the scent of Remus closer to him. He didn’t want that. He couldn’t want that.

“Mate, are you alright?” James asked, breaking through Sirius’ haze as he placed a hand on his
shoulder. Sirius looked back at James, confused, and James raised his eyebrows, smiling cautiously
at him.

“You haven’t been paying attention, have you?” he asked. “Funny, it’s usually you telling me to
concentrate.”

“What’d I miss?” Sirius said, trying to sound normal as he glanced around at the other students,
who all appeared to be getting out their potion ingredients and starting work.

“We’re making the Draught of Living Death,” James explained. “Page ten.”

“Thanks,” Sirius said, pulling his book towards him, but his heart wasn’t in it. He barely paid any
attention to what he was doing throughout the lesson, just worked on autopilot. He was too busy
thinking about Remus, what Remus meant to him, and what it meant that he was smelling Remus in
the Amortentia.

Sirius had fancied a few girls throughout his time at Hogwarts. In third year, his focus had been on
Miranda Ellerton for a brief time. In fourth, he’d had a passing infatuation with Iris Liu, and
somewhere at the end of fourth and beginning of fifth, he’d even fancied Dorcas—James hadn’t
known about that one. Still, Sirius had never been compelled to act on those feelings, not truly, and
his infatuations had never lasted very long. Sirius knew he liked girls, though. He’d certainly found
the scantily clad women on posters or in Muggle magazines appealing, after all.

But if Sirius fancied girls, why in the world would his Amortentia smell like Remus? Sirius and
Remus had always been close; they’d always been able to understand each other in a way that even
Sirius and James didn’t, despite being best friends. It was something that Sirius couldn’t put words
to, but it was important. Was that it? Was Sirius’ relationship with Remus just closer than his
relationship with any of the others?

But no, that couldn’t be true, because what about James? Despite whatever he felt about Remus,
Sirius still considered James his best friend in the world. James was still the person who’d taken
him into his home, thereby accepting him into his family. James was the person that Sirius would
go to first when he wanted to be cheered up, to be shown that he was cared for. Remus, on the
other hand, was the person Sirius would go to if he needed to be understood, to be seen, but that
didn’t mean he loved Remus more than he loved James. So what did it mean that he smelled
Remus, but not James, in his Amortentia?

Unbidden, unwanted, Snape’s voice from so many months before echoed in Sirius’ ears, spitting
out the word queer with distaste. It was a strange word, queer, something Sirius’ parents had
thrown around a few times when he’d been growing up, though not something elaborated on much.
Sirius didn’t know exactly what it meant, but he’d gotten the gist over the years, and he knew that
in his parents' eyes, it wasn’t something you should be.

Whatever the term queer meant, Sirius was pretty sure its meaning would encompass the fact that
he was smelling wool and bergamot in his Amortentia. Perhaps it’d even cover other things, too,
like the inexplicable urge that Sirius sometimes had, when he and Remus were together, to reach
out and touch the other boy. Sirius was almost certain that to his family, that feeling would be
categorized as queer.

It was something he tried not to think about, in those moments when he felt the urge rise up in him,
but despite all of it, those moments always came with a bitter aftertaste, a sting that made him
wince and draw back. It was stupid, though, because Sirius knew that there was nothing queer
about his relationship with Remus. The moments of wanting to be closer, to reach out and touch
someone, were natural in friendships. Remus was his friend, and he was a brilliant person, but
Sirius was not attracted to him. He was attracted to girls.

Sirius dragged himself through the rest of the lesson and then into Herbology, putting in the
minimum effort to keep himself from being called out for not paying attention. Outside of the
greenhouses, they met Remus, his hair tousled, blue eyes still clouded with sleep. Sirius looked
away, but couldn’t help noticing Remus’ scent more than usual: the familiar smell of wool and
bergamot. The noticing, Sirius told himself, wasn’t queer either.

This conclusion was hard to hold onto in the coming days, however, especially when Sirius woke
up early on both Saturday and Sunday mornings, sweating slightly, from dreams involving Remus.
They weren’t even particularly scandalous dreams, Sirius thought with vague annoyance. Most of
them just involved the two boys getting very, very close, so close that Sirius could count Remus’
few freckles and memorize the way his breath hitched when Sirius leaned in, before Sirius woke
with the smell of Remus’ skin in his nostrils. Still, he avoided Remus’ eyes for the next several
days.

What was wrong with him? Sirius cursed the dreams and cursed Snape for putting this idea in his
head that he, for some reason, couldn’t get out of it. He itched to jinx Snape, punish him for
planting this traitorous feeling in him, but he’d told Remus the previous year that he wouldn’t pick
a fight with the Slytherins unless provoked, and he’d keep his word. Still, Sirius couldn’t help but
feel that Snape had first almost destroyed his friendship with Remus when he’d followed Sirius out
to the willow, and now was ruining it in another way.

No, a little voice in the back of Sirius’ mind reminded him. That was you, with the willow. You
almost destroyed it before.

I can’t destroy it again now, Sirius thought fiercely. This—whatever this is—I have to get rid of it.

On Saturday, Sirius distracted himself with Quidditch tryouts, playing his hardest. In the end, he
almost unseated Georgie Huxley, their fifth-year Chaser, with a well-aimed Bludger as she was
flying up to the goalposts, and James laughed and said that he’d always known that he wouldn’t
find a better Beater than Sirius for the team. Luckily for James, however, Kingsley Shacklebolt, a
fourth year, played extremely well in his tryout for Beater, too, so both Florence’s and Marcus’
spots on the team were in good hands.

It took a little longer for James to find his remaining Chaser, as many more players turned up to try
out for that role, but eventually, the field was narrowed down to several players: a small, fifth-year
girl called Julia Smith, a tall and weedy third year named Elliot Williams, and a curly haired
second year named Liam Sampson. At the end of the tryouts, to everyone’s surprise, it was the
second year who’d scored the most goals, and James welcomed him onto the team with a grin and
a pat on the back. Liam, who looked shocked at his own luck, beamed at the rest of the team, all of
whom were taller than him, and Sirius smiled back. Despite his confused thoughts, he felt that his
admission to the Gryffindor Quidditch team was a sign that this was meant to be a good year, if he
could make it one.

When not in Quidditch practices, however, Sirius spent a great deal more time thinking about the
word ‘queer’ than he wanted to. He began to isolate himself, something he rarely did at Hogwarts.
Like in the previous term when no one had been speaking to him, he explored the grounds and
castle more, adding to the Marauder’s Map as he did so. He found little nooks to hide in:
windowsills concealed in hidden corridors or cramped corners behind the shelves in the library.
None of his friends found him, though most of them had alluded to his strange absences in one way
or another.

Sirius just felt he needed a solution, a way to make his tired and crowded brain stop going in loops.
It usually went something like this: the Amortentia, Remus, Snape spitting out the word queer, the
incident at the Whomping Willow, his mother screaming at him, and then back to the Amortentia.
It was dizzying, and Sirius needed it to go away. He needed silence. He needed to make it stop. By
the end of the second week of the term, he’d found a way to do just that.

“What’re you doing right now?” Sirius asked, leaning against the lockers and looking at Marlene
after their Quidditch practice. She gave him a funny look, shutting her locker and turning to him,
her long ponytail swinging behind her.

“Nothing,” she said. “What are you doing?” Sirius shrugged.

“What’s been up with you recently, anyway?” Marlene demanded, crossing her arms over her
chest. “You’ve been acting super weird during the past few weeks.”

“Nothing,” Sirius replied defensively. “Just...homework.”

Marlene laughed. “I’ve never known you to ever stress over homework as long as we’ve been at
Hogwarts,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously, though her expression was almost
amused. “It’s something else.”

Sirius hesitated for a long moment, then shrugged, conceding the point. “You’re right,” he
admitted finally. “Something has been going on.”

“That was easy,” Marlene said, uncrossing her arms and looking surprised. “You usually don’t
crack that quickly. So what is it?”

“I...can’t tell you,” Sirius said, grinning sheepishly. Marlene snorted out a laugh.

“Of course you can’t,” she said, rolling her eyes. “So why are you talking to me and not holing
yourself up somewhere in the castle alone?”

“Because I need your help,” Sirius said, giving her a hopeful smile. Marlene tilted her head and
smiled back at him, though she still looked perplexed.

“With what?”

“I’m trying to figure something out,” Sirius said carefully. “And I wanted to try something.”

“Can you please stop with the vague suggestions, and just tell me what you need?” Marlene
demanded, giving him an annoyed look.

“Fine,” Sirius said, giving a small shrug and bracing himself for the rebuke he’d likely receive in
return for the question he was about to ask. “Can I kiss you?”

Marlene’s eyes widened, her lips parting slightly in shock, eyebrows moving up towards her
hairline. “Excuse me?” she demanded incredulously, looking as if this was the last question in the
world she’d expected him to ask.

“I think you heard me,” Sirius said, crossing his arms across his chest and flushing slightly.
Marlene’s shocked expression turned to outrage, and she punched him in the arm.

“Ow, Marley!” Sirius exclaimed, rubbing his arm and glaring at her.

“What, d’you fancy me now, Sirius?” Marlene demanded, her voice almost comically outraged.
Sirius couldn’t help but laugh.

“I don’t fancy you, Marley,” he said, grinning at the ludicrousness of the suggestion.

“Oh,” Marlene said, deflating slightly from her earlier outrage, and now looking even more
confused. “Well then, why d’you want to snog me?”

“I just do?” Sirius said sheepishly, giving her a hopeful smile. Marlene glared at him for a long
moment, her eyes giving away her suspicion, though she said nothing. Sirius sighed. “You don’t
have to look at me like that. You know you’re fit. And...I don’t know. I just want to.”

Marlene let out an incredulous laugh, her manner softening slightly with her amusement. “I forgot
that you haven’t snogged anyone, really,” she said, a little patronizingly. “Is that it? You want to
know what it’s like?”

“I’ve kissed you before, in third year,” Sirius said defensively. Marlene shook her head.

“That wasn’t snogging,” she said, smiling. “Snogging is better.”

“Well then,” Sirius said, winking at her, sliding easily back into their playful banter from the
summer. “Show me?”

Marlene seemed to weigh her options carefully for a few moments, looking contemplative, her blue
eyes narrowed, lips slightly pursed. Finally, she smiled and rolled her eyes.

“What the fuck,” she said, letting out a snort of laughter. “What’s the worst that can happen,
anyway?”

Sirius grinned triumphantly as she stepped closer to him, approaching so that he could see every
freckle on her face. His grey eyes focused on her lips as she matched his grin, an air of mischief, of
excited anticipation, forming between them.

“For the record, I don’t fancy you, either,” Marlene said, raising her eyebrows at him when their
faces were only a few inches apart. Sirius smiled at her before leaning in to meet her in the middle
as they closed the gap between them. Marlene’s lips were soft, and after a moment, she pressed
further into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. In response, he placed his hands on her
waist, pressing her into him and kissing her hungrily.

The kiss was almost frantic. Sirius hadn’t known exactly what to do with his lips at first, but after
only a moment, he’d decided to stop thinking altogether and just follow Marlene’s lead. It was the
right decision. Her lips moved against his, parting and pressing closer. Her teeth snagged on his
lower lip, and he caught his breath in surprise, which only made her smile into the kiss. She was
very good at this, and she knew it.
 They both smelled slightly of sweat, grass, and rain, in addition to the lemony smell Marlene
always carried around with her. Mud was smudged on Sirius’ arms, Marlene’s cheek and neck, and
parts of her hair were stiff with it, too. Neither of them cared. They reveled in the messiness, the
informality, the familiarity. They didn’t care how they looked, or smelled, or anything else, for that
matter. They just cared about the thrill, and Sirius was surprised but pleased to learn that snogging
Marlene brought a similar rush of adrenaline as causing trouble with her did.

They parted after several long minutes, Marlene backing up and rubbing her lips together in
satisfaction, grinning at him. “How was that?” she asked, the smile on her face saying that she
already knew exactly how good it was.

Sirius gave a small, incredulous laugh, his fingers tracing his bottom lip as he gazed back at her,
smiling widely. “Bloody brilliant,” he said, not even trying to conceal the surprise and relief in his
tone. It had been good, after all, and definitely not queer, and that made him Definitely Not Queer,
too, which was especially good. She laughed.

“Not that hard, is it?” she asked. “I mean, you were wavering there for the beginning, but you got
the hang of it in the end.”

Sirius laughed and shoved her arm lightly. “Oh, shut up, McKinnon,” he said.

“Make me, Black,” Marlene responded, smirking, grabbing her bag, and slinging it over her
shoulder.

They grinned at one another, Sirius following Marlene out of the changing rooms and up towards
the Grand Staircase. They didn’t hold hands, or blush, or any of that nonsense. Neither had any
desire to do any of those things. They did, however, smile at each other in between their jokes in a
way that they’d never done before. It was an excited, anticipatory, secretive type of smile. The
smile meant that both of them knew exactly what kind of invisible boundary they’d just crossed
with one another, that there was no going back, and that neither of them wanted to.

It was a smile that showed that, while they’d spent the past five years breaking all sorts of rules
around the castle together, the unspoken one that meant they weren’t supposed to do what they’d
just done with one another was the most fun to break. No one would understand this but them, they
knew: the way that neither of them wanted each other for more than an idle kiss in a deserted part
of the castle, and that it was still worth it for them. As they’d both explain to perplexed friends later
on, it didn’t need to be more. What it was was fun, and fun was enough. Fun was safe, and
reassuring, and couldn’t break either of their hearts.

Perhaps it was the fact that they both knew it wasn’t what they were supposed to be doing that
thrilled them. Perhaps it was the fact that it shut off their minds for a while, so they wouldn’t have
to think or be scared of anything in the future. Maybe the reason they both loved it was because it
was unexpected, not part of the grand plan. They were both tired of the grand plan. They ran from
destiny in the same way that they’d run from the site of an explosion they themselves had caused,
not hand in hand, but side by side, laughing all the way.

Chapter End Notes

Important: Sirius is truly unaware that you can be attracted to more than one gender.
It’s hard to know about queer stuff when you’re brought up in a homophobic home
and society, and it was the 1970s, of course. Bi/pan/all other labels of queer people are
so valid, and you’ll see him start to accept himself more later on.

Also, I didn't include Slughorn giving out the Felix Felicis as a prize because I
honestly think a lot of the reason he did that in Harry’s sixth year was to impress the
new students, and also I couldn't think of a good way to insert that into a later
storyline.

Sorry for the delay in posting. I’ve been having an awful cycle of migraines and so
most of the time I’ve been either in too much pain or too high to concentrate on writing
(like Remus, I use medicinal weed to relieve pain). I’ve also been trying to keep up
with my schoolwork and my thesis (I’m in my last semester of college), so if I don’t
post every week, please bear with me.

Thank you to everyone who leaves kudos and comments! They brighten my day so
much whenever I receive them!
 1976: Shana Tova

Lily couldn’t recall ever feeling so out of place as she’d felt for the first weeks of classes during her
sixth year. She’d boarded the train that year with the same overwhelming loneliness that’d haunted
her over the summer, and the feeling persisted into the first weeks of school.

The problem was Severus, or rather, the lack of him. Lily knew she should want nothing to do with
him, but she couldn’t help but miss him. Missing him became a heavy weight in her stomach and
put a bitter taste in her mouth whenever she thought of him. She’d spent the summer dodging him
and dodging the feeling. It’d been up to her to do this, as he still sought her out at any chance he
got, determined to make her talk to him again.

Therefore, all their old haunts had become his domain, and Lily had been reduced to hiding in her
own home and only leaving for walks at dusk and after dark. Her evening walks made her mum
nervous, but Lily resisted any attempts to change these habits, instead conceding that she’d bring
her wand with her, to be used only in the case of an emergency. She counted on the darkness to
conceal her red hair, and make her a less conspicuous figure walking around her neighborhood. She
even chopped her hair to shoulder length midway through the summer, thinking vaguely that it’d
make her less recognizable. Really, Lily just wanted to have some part of her reflection represent
how different she felt inwardly.

Overall, Lily thought she’d done a relatively good job avoiding Severus over the summer. Every
time she’d spotted him, slouched by the river, at the playground, or walking down the street, she
firmly turned the other way and was deaf to his words. After the first few times it’d happened, he’d
stopped trying to follow her when she did this. At Hogwarts, he tried to speak to her a few times in
the corridors and in classes, but again, she turned her head away and refused to listen to his pleas.
She was glad when he finally gave up, but his cold silence and stony face sometimes still struck a
deep feeling of guilt in her, one she had to tell herself firmly to push away. She wasn’t the one
who’d broken them.

Another problem that Lily had been faced with upon her return to Hogwarts was that of who she
would spend her time with, now that Severus was no longer her friend. The only one of her
roommates that Lily truly thought she had some degree of closeness with was Dorcas. As she’d
done since their first summer after Hogwarts, Dorcas had written to Lily consistently over the
summer. It’d been one of the only social interactions Lily had had outside of her family during the
summer months, and she was very grateful.

Though she’d never mentioned her loneliness in her letters, Lily had a feeling that Dorcas could
sense that Lily needed someone, and the other girl seemed happy to be that person for her. Still,
when they were at Hogwarts, Dorcas had always spent a great deal of time with Marlene, and while
Marlene and Lily’s relationship had somewhat improved over the course of their last few years
living together, Lily was fully aware that she was not high on Marlene’s list of people she’d like to
hang around, so she didn’t expect to spend much time with Dorcas while back at school, either.

Lily was surprised, therefore, by the apparent distance between the two best friends when they’d
arrived back at school, and by Dorcas’ immediate eagerness to spend more time around Lily than
she’d ever done before. Marlene, even more surprisingly, didn’t seem to mind it, as she was
spending even more time with the Marauders than usual. At first, Lily figured that this was because
Dorcas wanted to be there for Lily, just as she had been over the summer. However, she soon
realized there might be more to it.

“Morning,” Dorcas said, one Monday during their third week of classes, sitting down across from
Lily in the Great Hall and smiling at her.

“Good morning,” Lily said, returning her smile. “You’re up late. You missed Marlene.”

“Oh,” Dorcas said, giving a cursory glance down the table. Where the Gryffindor boys usually sat,
there was only James, Remus, and Peter. Mary, Emmeline, and Hestia sat next to them, chatting
aimlessly. No Sirius, and no Marlene. Dorcas turned back to her plate and began to serve herself
breakfast. She didn’t ask Lily where Marlene had gone, as she clearly already knew.

“Did you think the Charms homework was difficult?” Dorcas inquired instead, biting into a piece
of toast.

“A bit,” Lily replied, willing to avoid the topic of what was bothering Dorcas for as long as the
other girl wanted to do so. “It was hard to find a book in the library about the Bubble-Head Charm
since it was so recently invented. Still, it was interesting.”

“Definitely,” Dorcas agreed enthusiastically. “It took me a while, but I’m very excited to learn the
spell. I love that Professor Flitwick is teaching us such a new spell. It’s almost experimental.”

“The idea of inventing new spells is so interesting,” Lily mused. “At Hogwarts, they teach us how
to do magic in a certain way, but the fact that new spells can be invented just shows that magic’s
not all formulaic. It can be creative, too, and based on emotions.”

Dorcas nodded vigorously. “My mum’s always told me that everyone uses magic in a way that’s
uniquely their own,” she said. “I suppose Hogwarts thinks it’s too risky to teach us how to do
things like invent spells, so they want it to seem simpler than it is. It’d be nice to have the option to
learn those kinds of advanced topics in our N.E.W.T.s, though.”

Lily frowned slightly. “I understand why they don’t, even in N.E.W.T.s,” she said. “People can use
that sort of magic in all sorts of awful ways.”

“True,” Dorcas conceded. “But I’m not sure there’s a way to do magic that’s not creative or
emotional, even if they tell us that’s not what we’re doing. If we get rid of that, we get rid of all of
it. It would completely forgo any innovation.”

Lily thought for a moment before conceding the point, and they continued to talk about the
homework until they had to depart for Charms. Once they were settled into their seats, Marlene and
Sirius nearly ran through the door, both slightly out of breath, with flushed cheeks and grins on
their faces. They sat near the Marauders, and while Dorcas didn’t say anything, Lily registered the
pin straight line of her back, and she felt a surge of sorrow for her friend.

Lily didn’t need Dorcas to say anything to know what the other girl was feeling. She’d understood
all she needed to when she’d seen the look on Dorcas’ face, a week prior, when Marlene and Sirius
had started disappearing together to snog in deserted parts of the castle. Lily didn’t say anything
about it, though. Dorcas could tell her when she was ready. Lily wondered if, over the summer,
Dorcas had needed Lily just as much as Lily had needed Dorcas.

Besides Dorcas, Lily had Remus to talk to, these days. The two continued the friendship they’d
largely formed during the previous year, falling easily back into their familiar rapport during their
prefect duties for the first few weeks. Remus was nice enough not to bring up Severus, which Lily
was grateful for. Still, Lily wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she felt as if Remus was less
guarded around her, now that she wasn’t friends with Severus anymore.

With the new leaf she was trying to turn over, Lily had even been attempting to be civil to the rest
of the Marauders. Sirius, she found, was less of a challenge than she’d previously thought. He
seemed to have mellowed out slightly that year, or perhaps her perspective had just changed. The
two, who’d been practically at each other’s throats for the previous couple of years, managed to
stay very civil, even verging on friendliness at times.

James was another story. Try as Lily might, Lily couldn’t bring herself to be friendly towards him.
Every time he shot her a smile, she just wanted to sock him right in the nose, and she praised
herself for never acting on the impulse, however strange. She wasn’t sure quite why he irked her so
much still, as he’d abandoned his annoying attempts to flirt and show off in front of her from the
previous year, but out of everyone she wanted to make amends with, James Potter was not at the
top of her list, so she tried not to give the issue much thought.

No, it was the sight of Mary which had continued to make Lily feel a wave of hot shame rise up in
her every day, and who she most wanted to make amends with. The way that Lily had treated Mary
after Mary had been attacked the previous year still weighed on Lily’s mind. For the past two
weeks of term, Lily had put off speaking to her roommate other than a couple of brief exchanges.
By the end of the third week, Dorcas was slightly exasperated.

“Just talk to her,” she urged Lily at lunch on Friday. “I know you’re just sitting around thinking up
worst-case scenarios in your head the longer you wait.”

“What if she hates me?” Lily asked anxiously, picking at her food absentmindedly with her fork.

“She doesn’t hate you,” Dorcas said. “It’s possible she’s still hurt, but I know she doesn’t hate you.
She was civil enough to you at the end of last term, wasn’t she?” Lily continued to fidget
nervously, and Dorcas sighed. “Just talk to her.”

Therefore, when Lily saw Mary rise and say goodbye to Emmeline and Hestia halfway through
lunch, she followed her out to the entrance hall. The dark-haired girl only paused to pull her coat
closer around her, then headed towards the doors of the castle to the grounds.

“Mary,” Lily called after her, catching up with her as she reached the doors. Mary turned and
looked at Lily in surprise, cocking her head to one side.

“Hey, Lily,” she said, moving towards her slightly, and away from the castle doors. “What is it?”

“Um,” Lily said, her cheeks coloring slightly in her awkwardness and embarrassment. “Are you
going on a walk around the grounds?”

Mary nodded. “I was thinking of checking in on the Diricawls for Care of Magical Creatures,” she
said. “Then walking around the lake, maybe.”

Lily nodded. “Can I join you? I’m a little restless.”

Lily thought she saw Mary hesitate for a fraction of a second, shifting her weight slightly from foot
to foot as she pushed her long, dark hair out of her eyes and looked at Lily. Finally, she nodded, and
Lily smiled, wrapping her coat around her more tightly.

Mary was relatively quiet as they walked down towards the Care of Magical Creatures enclosure,
but Lily asked her about classes, and soon she was talking animatedly about the creatures they’d
learned about that term. Much to Lily’s relief, the conversation broke the ice between them, and as
they went along, they began to talk about the Rosh Hashanah celebration they were set to attend
later that day, spearheaded by Emmeline. Mary was smiling by the time they were walking
towards the lake, despite the cold wind blowing at their backs, and Lily steeled herself for what
she’d come to say.

“Listen,” Lily said, her heart beating fast. “I never really apologized to you for last year.” Mary
stiffened next to her, and Lily paused, trying to find the right words to say what she needed to say.

“Apologized for what?” Mary asked, her voice sounding suddenly distant, as if she was on the
opposite side of the lake instead of right beside Lily.

Lily glanced at her sideways to find Mary giving her a searching look. Lily gave her a little, sad
shrug. “All of it,” she said. “I should’ve been a better friend to you, instead of trying to be one for
Severus. You were the one I owed it to, not him.”

“You didn’t owe me anything,” Mary said, her expression unreadable.

“Yes, I did,” Lily said quietly. Their pace slowed as they neared the edge of the lake, stopping in
the shadow of a beech tree. “When Martin Simmons was attacked, you were outraged, as you
should’ve been, and I was scared. I was scared for myself, not just because I’m a Muggle-born, but
for what it would mean for my friendship with Severus. I was selfish, and I was a coward.”

Lily sighed and reached up to wrap the fingers of her left hand over one of the branches just above
her head, fidgeting nervously with the leaves, which were already beginning to change color.

“I defended Severus when we had that fight,” she said. “After you got attacked, it helped me
realize that he wasn’t—that he wasn’t a good person.” Lily swallowed the tears, blinking them
away from her eyes and looking down to hide them from the other girl. “I should’ve been better
after you were attacked. I should’ve admitted I was wrong and been there for you. I acted like a
terrible person. I’m so sorry, Mary.”

She looked back up at Mary as she said the last part, searching the other girl’s expression for
disgust or anger. She found neither. Mary was silent for several moments, the look on her face
merely thoughtful. Lily’s heart beat fast, banging against the inside of her ribcage as she waited.

“Thanks for saying that,” Mary said quietly, after a moment, meeting Lily’s eyes. “I don’t think
you’re a terrible person, for the record. You...I’m not going to say you’re wrong. You did behave
terribly sometimes. And sometimes I thought I hated you, but I didn’t, not really. I knew that you
were in a bad position with Snape.”

“That doesn’t excuse what I said, or how I acted.”

“No,” Mary said, and she even smiled slightly as she said it. “But I realized there was no point in
hating you when I could use my time and energy better by hating him. He manipulated you, and I
felt sorry for you more than I ever hated you.”

Lily found she couldn’t speak, so she just nodded. Mary gave her another tentative smile. “We
can’t change any of it, now,” Mary said. “Can we just move forward?”

“I’d like that,” Lily agreed, nodding. She felt as if she suddenly had breath again, and she exhaled
in a puff. “Do you think we could try to be friends?” she asked Mary nervously. Mary gave her a
warm smile this time and nodded.

“Of course,” she replied. “It is a new year, after all.” Lily smiled back, her nervousness
evaporating, and the two girls headed back to the castle toward their Defense Against the Dark Arts
lesson. When they arrived outside of the classroom, they found most of their friends already there.
Every one of the sixth-year Gryffindors was taking D.A.D.A. to their N.E.W.T.s except for Peter,
who, to the disbelief of many, had dropped it.
“I’m no good at it,” Lily had overheard him saying during the first day of classes when Professor
McGonagall had come to find out which courses they wanted to continue to their N.E.W.T.s.

“You do realize that there’s probably going to be a full-scale war going on soon, right?” Sirius had
asked him incredulously. Peter had only shrugged.

“I’m not sure I’ll be much use in dueling, even if I do take it onto N.E.W.T.s. I’ll just hold the rest
of you back.”

Privately, Lily agreed with Sirius. She thought it was incredibly short-sighted not to take Defense
Against the Dark Arts these days when they all needed to defend themselves more than ever. Still,
it’d been Peter’s decision in the end.

When Professor Macmillan, that year’s D.A.D.A. teacher, ushered them into the class that day, she
told them that this would be a theory lesson, so they all put away their wands and pulled out their
books.

“Lily, what is that?” Marlene said, looking over at her in confusion. Lily looked down at the
ballpoint pen in her hand and flushed, feeling embarrassed for no logical reason.

Mary rolled her eyes, looking over at them, too. “Marlene, you took Muggle Studies for three
years. You have to know what a pen looks like. I’ve been using them for years.”

“Oh,” Marlene said, looking down, startled, at the pen in Mary’s hand. “I guess I never noticed.”

Behind Marlene, Dorcas laughed quietly, stifling the sound with her hand, and Marlene broke into a
smile, too. Both Mary and Lily rolled their eyes, then turned back to the front of the class. A few
minutes after Professor Macmillan had started lecturing, however, Mary leaned closer to her.

“So, a pen?” Mary asked quietly. Lily flushed again and shrugged, a sheepish smile on her face.

“They’re better than quills,” she whispered back.

“Much better,” Mary agreed, smiling. “But I’ve never seen you use one at Hogwarts before.”

“I think maybe I was trying to fit in too much when I got here,” Lily admitted a little sadly. “I
realized over the summer that no matter what I do, people are still going to see me as different.”

“Yeah,” Mary said, giving her a small, sad smile and a shrug. “They will.”

“And I always hated quills,” Lily said, laughing a little. “They’re impossible.”

“They really are,” Mary agreed. “Wizards don’t know everything.”

“They really don’t,” agreed Lily, and the girls shared a grin before turning back to face the front of
the class.

“Thanks, Mac,” Lily said quietly, after a pause. Mary turned to her in surprise. Lily had never
called her that before, even when all the other girls routinely did. “For everything,” Lily added,
then looked back at her notes. Out of the corner of her eye, Lily saw Mary grin.

....

After class, the Gryffindors headed back to their tower in a group, the girls depositing their bags
and books in their dormitory. They all changed out of their school uniforms and into normal
clothing, Emmeline taking particular care as she pulled on a nice, white blouse, pinned her hair
away from her face, and put on a pair of earrings.

“You look pretty,” Hestia commented, smiling at her, and Emmeline thanked her, smiling too.
Then, the group descended the stairs to the kitchens, which James had been all too happy to share
the location of several days prior, per Emmeline’s request. When they got there, the house-elves
were waiting for them, as Emmeline had come to tell them of the girls’ plans in advance.

With many bows and curtseys, the house-elves showed them the supplies that they’d gathered, and
the girls began to cook. They all did so with equal levels of enthusiasm, but varying levels of skill.
After a few mishaps, Emmeline, laughing, had taken charge of them, steering Dorcas firmly away
from the vegetables and towards the challah dough, which the house-elves had already started for
them. Lily, who’d tried to warn them that she was a hopeless cook beforehand, was belatedly
instructed not to touch anything. She didn’t mind, however, as she sat watching and chatting with
them, feeling unexpectedly at ease for the first time since coming back to school that term.

Dorcas, it turned out, had a talent for baking, and was in her element while making the bread and
tarts. Marlene, on the other hand, was surprisingly knowledgeable about cooking, and so she and
Emmeline spearheaded the preparation of most of the other food, directing Mary and Hestia. After
a couple of hours, they’d almost finished, though the space around their little table was
considerably dirtier than when they’d started, as were some of their clothes.

“I’ll just scourgify it later,” Marlene shrugged, looking down at her shirt, which had an oil stain on
it.

“You should have put an impervious charm on it beforehand like I did,” Emmeline said, smiling as
she continued to slice apples. Her white blouse was still magically pristine.

“How many people do you think will come to this, Em?” Hestia asked, looking around at the piles
of food.

“I’m not quite sure,” Emmeline admitted. “I told a couple of people I know personally, like Liam,
on the Quidditch team, but I also put up flyers, and who knows how many people will bring their
friends. I figured better safe than sorry.”

“When did you tell people to turn up?” Dorcas asked.

“I said six-thirty,” Emmeline said. She glanced at the clock. “So we have thirty minutes.”

“I’ll start cleaning up the cooking utensils and things,” Lily said, getting up from her stool,
wanting to be useful. Dorcas, already finished baking, began to help her. The house-elves milling
all around them didn’t attempt to help, as Emmeline had communicated to them that they wanted to
do the cooking themselves, although Lily sensed that it took some self-restraint on their parts. Lily
had never interacted at all with house-elves before, but she found them to be very nice, if a little
peculiar.

“Are they always like this?” she whispered to Dorcas, as another house-elf curtsied to her.

“Oh, I have no idea,” Dorcas replied, laughing. “I’ve never been down to the kitchens before,
either.”

“But haven’t you been around house-elves before?” Lily asked, turning to her, surprised. “I mean,
you’re a pureblood.” Dorcas shook her head and smiled.

“Never,” she said. “None of the families I grew up around have them. My parents don’t tend to
interact with many purebloods other than James’ and Marlene’s families.”
“I guess I should’ve known that,” Lily said, a little embarrassed. “It’s because your families all
don’t believe in the blood purity stuff, right?”

“There’s that,” Dorcas said. “And, you know, Muggle prejudices still exist in the wizarding world,
too, Lily.”

“What do you mean?” Lily asked.

“My family’s black,” Dorcas replied bluntly, her gaze fixed on the saucepan she was scrubbing.
“James and his mum are Indian. Marlene’s Irish, and her parents come from working-class
backgrounds. Other traditional pureblood families dislike all of those things to different degrees.”

“Oh,” Lily said, feeling again like a dunce. “I didn’t realize.”

“How could you? You didn’t grow up in our world,” Dorcas replied, giving Lily a quick smile,
though her voice sounded a little stiffer than usual. There was a rather awkward pause during
which they cleaned in silence.

“Do you know if the boys are coming?” Lily asked after a moment.

“James told me they’d be here,” Dorcas said. “I reminded him several times, too, and gave Remus
the details in case James forgets, so I think they’ll definitely turn up. They’ll probably devour half
of the food between them.” Dorcas sent her a mischievous grin, and Lily laughed.

Twenty minutes later, they’d cleaned everything, and the long table the house-elves had set for
them was full of food. The girls smiled, proud of their accomplishment, just as people began to
trickle in. The sixth-year Gryffindor boys turned up, just as Dorcas said they would, along with
some other students. Some of them Lily knew by name, such as Liam Sampson, the new Chaser on
the Gryffindor team, who’d brought a couple of his friends. Others, she knew only by sight. There
were people from every house there, some of them looking slightly nervous as they took their seats
and began to talk to others around them.

Emmeline beamed proudly around at them, introducing herself readily to each student as they
entered. By quarter till seven, most of the seats were full, and Emmeline walked to the head of the
table, where there were four candleholders set on a silver tray.

Emmeline struck a match and lit the candles carefully, one at a time, before blowing the match out.
She then swept her hands over the flames and towards her slowly several times, a look of
concentration on her face. Lily watched her in fascination as she covered her eyes and began to say
a prayer. Lily didn’t know what any of the words meant, but she could feel the meaning in the way
that Emmeline said them, in the weight of the words. After a minute, when Emmeline was done,
she uncovered her eyes and looked up at them, smiling.

“Shana tova,” she said, addressing the table at large.

“Shana tova,” Lily echoed back along with the others, carefully pronouncing the syllables as
Emmeline had taught her earlier in the day. It was a greeting, Emmeline had said, that meant ‘for a
good year,’ which people said to each other as they celebrated Rosh Hashanah.

“If only we had a shofar,” a third-year Ravenclaw student said.

“I’m sure if we had gotten one, Peeves would have been all too happy to blow it at the crack of
dawn to wake up the castle,” Emmeline supplied, and the other Jewish students laughed, while
their friends looked vaguely confused.
They all began to dig into the food in front of them, and Lily was glad of Emmeline’s plan to
prepare a lot, just in case. There were apple slices to be dipped in honey, round loaves of golden-
brown challah, fish, couscous, a variety of different vegetables, and honey tarts. It was all
delicious, in Lily’s opinion, and she was very glad that Emmeline had had the sense not to let her
help prepare it.

They sat around the table, eating and talking to one another for hours after the plates had been
cleared. Emmeline, at the head of the table, positively shone in the light of the candles, looking
happier than Lily had ever seen her. The candles burned until the end of the evening and flickered
out promptly as people began to leave, happy and full, at nine.

Despite Emmeline’s protests, the house-elves ushered them off to bed rather than let them help
clear the table, and as they walked back through the dark hallways, Emmeline spoke happily about
how well the celebration went. The rest of the girls remarked positively as well, praising Emmeline
for organizing the event, and remarking how much fun they’d all had. They were all tired by the
time they got back to the tower, and headed straight up to their dormitory.

The girls began to ready themselves for bed, changing into their pajamas and brushing their teeth,
chatting as they did so. When Lily exited the bathroom and pulled back the curtains to her four-
poster bed to climb in, she realized she’d forgotten something.

“Has anyone seen Callie?” Lily asked, looking around for her cat. The girls all shrugged and shook
their heads, and Lily sighed. Callie was probably by the fire, which meant that Lily would have to
go back down to the common room in her pajamas.

Lily descended the staircase, relieved that there were only a couple of people left in the common
room. Unluckily, sitting on the couch in front of the fire was someone with very untidy, black hair.
Lily sighed, then made her way over to him. As she stepped around the couch, she saw that there
was a calico bundle of fur curled up on James’ lap that he was carefully avoiding bothering as he
read. She cleared her throat and crossed her arms over her chest, making him start and look up at
her.

“Blimey, Evans,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “You startled me.”

“You seem to have abducted my cat,” Lily said, a deadpan expression on her face. James glanced
down at Callie, fast asleep on his lap.

“I guess she likes me,” he said in a rather self-satisfied way that irked Lily, then looked back up at
her and smiled widely and winningly. Something in Lily’s stomach gave a strange little flutter, and
she again suppressed the urge to punch him in the face.

“That makes one of us,” she said. James laughed.

“You know, one of these days you’re going to have to stop being so openly hostile to me, Evans,”
he said, grinning up at her as he picked up Callie gently and handed her over to Lily.

“And obviously today is not that day,” Lily retorted, taking Callie into her arms, the cat making a
small mewling sound in her sleep. “What are you doing up, still?” Lily asked, curious against her
will. James sighed and gestured to the book in his hands. Lily recognized it as their Advanced
Potion Making textbook.

“Trying to get this theory into my head,” he said, rumpling his hair frustratedly. “It’s quieter now
out here, so I thought I’d give it another try, but I still can’t focus.”
“Oh,” Lily said, slightly surprised. In her time at Hogwarts, she’d never heard James Potter admit
that he had trouble doing anything. “Good luck, then.” She turned away rather abruptly, making
her way back to the girl’s dormitory stairs.

“Night, Evans,” James said, smiling to himself as he turned back to his book.

“Traitor,” Lily muttered darkly to her cat as soon as she was up the stairs, out of earshot of James.
Callie only made another soft, sleepy mewling noise in response, and Lily sighed.
 1976: You've Got to Hide Your Love Away

How could she said to me

Love will find a way

Gather 'round all you clowns

Let me hear you say

Hey, you've got to hide your love away

- “You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away,” The Beatles

As fall descended upon the castle and all of the leaves began to change color from green to shades
of orange, red, and yellow, Dorcas felt another change taking place between her and Marlene. Or,
more accurately, Dorcas watched Marlene’s life change without her.

Dorcas had always felt that Marlene would leave her behind one day. Throughout her whole life,
Marlene had always been the one darting forward, unafraid, while Dorcas trailed behind
cautiously. Dorcas knew she wasn’t as brave as Marlene, and since they’d been children, she’d
been afraid of the moment when Marlene would grow tired of Dorcas holding her back and go on
to experience the world without her.

In her third year, when Dorcas had realized how she felt about Marlene, she thought she’d finally
understood the way in which Marlene would eventually leave her. Sometimes with their closeness,
Dorcas had dared to hope, from the glances they shared, the way that they wrapped their arms
around one another and held tight, or the way that Marlene sometimes crawled into Dorcas’ bed
when she had a nightmare. Still, it’d been a hopeless dream. Of all people, however, Dorcas had
never expected Sirius to be the one to cause her delusions to come crashing down around her.

She’d watched it happen throughout the summer with the feeling of looking on as two trains were
about to collide head-on, knowing what was going to happen and yet powerless to stop the
outcome. The difference was, it’d been her, and not them, who was hurt. Dorcas withdrew and
escaped how she could. She wrote to Lily, knowing that the other witch must feel as lonely as she
herself had been feeling, though neither girl mentioned their troubles. Returning to Hogwarts, she
spent even more time with the other girl, hoping that watching the inevitable happen from a
distance would make it less painful. It hadn’t helped.

Dorcas knew it wasn’t Sirius’ fault, of course, but sometimes, when she saw him wink at Marlene
in class, or when they disappeared off together, Marlene returning later with her cheeks flushed and
hair mussed, Dorcas thought she hated him, truly and completely. She usually tried to push away
the feeling quickly when it appeared, but other times, when she was alone, she let it consume her.
She sat on the grounds alone sometimes, in the shade of the trees, and tore up the fallen leaves,
thinking bitterly about Sirius and Marlene and how unfair life was that she should look at her best
friend the way she did.

Sirius was her friend, too, Dorcas reminded herself every time these moods took hold of her. They
were perhaps not as close as Dorcas was to James, Marlene, or even Lily, but he was her friend
nonetheless. The fact that, during his free time, he was able to run his hands through Marlene’s
long, dirty blonde hair should mean nothing compared to that. Unfortunately, it seemed to mean
everything nonetheless, and Dorcas, much as she tried to build a barrier to keep it from affecting
her, couldn’t stop it from hurting.

To make matters worse, Marlene seemed to be too caught up in Sirius to even notice Dorcas’
distance. All of it added up to a constant, dull ache that Dorcas pushed deep inside herself, though it
continued to demand to be heard. She ignored it.

During the week, she was glad of the distraction that was her schoolwork. Dorcas was taking more
classes than anyone else that she knew of in her year. She didn’t do this because she needed to take
the classes, in fact, she was only required to take five N.E.W.T.s to become a Healer:
Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts.

When registering for classes that year, however, Dorcas hadn’t been able to help herself. Having
received phenomenal marks in all of her O.W.L.s, she’d decided to take Muggle Studies,
Astronomy, and Care of Magical Creatures on to her N.E.W.T.s as well. Even Professor
McGonagall had raised an eyebrow at that, but Dorcas was determined, though it’d already meant
many sleepless nights for her. Still, it was a distraction, and Dorcas couldn’t help but love it.

During the rare weekend days that she had free, Dorcas had resolved to expand her other
friendships. She was very glad that Mary and Lily were friendly with each other again, and
frequently spent her free time with the two of them, sometimes accompanied by Hestia, Emmeline,
Miranda, or Alice.

One Sunday afternoon in mid-October, they’d decided to venture out on the grounds. It was cold,
and they all wore layers, but the sun had made a rare appearance that day, shining frostily through
the clouds and down upon them. Lily cast a heating spell around their picnic blanket, and she,
Dorcas, Mary, and Miranda settled down under a tree in their little circle of warmth. Around the
castle, Dorcas could make out the small shapes of the Gryffindor Quidditch team practicing. She
sat down with her back against the tree, facing away from them and towards the lake, pulling a
book from her bag and opening it.

“Are you doing homework?” Miranda asked incredulously. “I thought we were meant to be
hanging out.”

“It’s not really homework,” Dorcas defended. “Just reading for Muggle Studies. Real homework is
writing essays and stuff like that.”

“It’s homework,” Mary said, laughing a little at her. “And you did promise to hang out with us,
Dee.”

Dorcas shut her book reluctantly, and Lily smiled at her crestfallen expression. “You do know
you’re surrounded by two Muggle-borns and a half-blooded witch. Consider spending time with us
studying.”

Dorcas shook her head, grinning despite herself and placing her book on the blanket beside her.
“Fine,” she said. “Teach me about Muggle things, then.”

Mary and Miranda both laughed. “What do you want to know about, then?” Mary asked. “We’re
not random fact generators.” Dorcas smiled and thought for a moment.

“Have you ever seen a film? With the moving pictures and sound?” Dorcas asked, a wide smile
spreading across her face. “They sound wonderful.”

“Of course!” Miranda replied, grinning. “You’ve never seen a movie, Dorcas?”
“No,” Dorcas replied. “I have no idea how they work! Who would I have gone with?”

The other three girls laughed. “It’s really not hard to just go to a movie,” Lily explained. “I guess I
thought you might have gone with Potter, Black, or Marlene over the summer holidays.”

“We can take you some time,” Mary said, smiling. “There’s really nothing complicated about it.
You just buy tickets and sit in the theater and watch.”

“But how does it work?” Dorcas asked. “How do Muggles make the pictures move and have
sound?”

“There are special sorts of cameras called video cameras,” Lily explained. “So they have actors
who play roles and then they film them. It’s not like wizarding pictures, where you take a picture
and then charm it to move afterward. The people who are being recorded are already moving and
speaking, so the camera just captures that and plays it back.”

“I didn’t know cameras could do that,” Dorcas remarked, fascinated.

“Sometimes technology is better than magic,” Mary said. “I want to try to figure out how to charm
my stereo from home so that it works at Hogwarts. We need some more Muggle music around
here.”

“I’m sure there’s some kind of simple charm,” Lily said thoughtfully. “After all, wizards have
radios that work inside of Hogwarts.”

“Exactly,” Mary said. “I’ve been meaning to ask Professor Flitwick about it. The trouble is that I
have to do it when I’m at home because if I bring my stereo to Hogwarts it’ll go haywire and
break, so I have to wait until I’m seventeen.”

“I love Muggle music,” Dorcas said. “ABBA is my favorite artist.”

“ABBA is great,” Miranda agreed, leaning back on her palms and smiling. “Queen is also one of
my absolute favorites. And Bowie. New music these days is so good.”

“I like Bowie’s music from a couple of years ago better than his most recent songs,” Mary
commented. “But Queen is amazing. Bohemian Rhapsody isn’t just music, it’s artwork, I’m telling
you.”

“You sound like Sirius,” Lily and Dorcas said at the same time, then looked at each other and
laughed. Mary grinned teasingly across at Lily.

“I know you’re not the biggest fan of Queen, Lily,” she teased. “Go on, tell the group what kind of
music you like.”

Lily raised her eyebrows challengingly at Mary, but she was smiling. “I have excellent taste in
music,” she declared, hitching a jokingly haughty look onto her face. “And I don’t not like Queen.
They’re just not my style. I like softer music.”

“Uh huh,” Mary said, not trying to conceal her grin. “You like the oldies.”

“The sixties are not the oldies!” Lily exclaimed. “Anyway, that’s not entirely true. I like current
bands, too. I’m just attached to The Beatles. And if you tell me you don’t like them, Mac, I might
have to rethink our friendship. They’re legends!”

“They did produce an amazing amount of music in only the ten years they were together,” Miranda
said. “And, of course, they’ll always hold a special place in my heart because they were popular
when we were kids, though I definitely did not understand what a lot of their songs meant at the
time.” They all giggled at that.

“I’m not disputing their brilliance,” Mary amended, smiling. “I’m just saying that their ship has
sailed. Just like Simon & Garfunkel. You get attached to bands that have already broken up, Lily,
when there’s new and exciting music coming out right now.”

“They could always get back together!” Lily pointed out. “Bands sometimes break up and get back
together.”

“Doesn’t seem likely to me,” Miranda commented. “Not with all their issues. But I guess they’re
still relatively young. It could happen. Which one did you fancy, then, when you were a kid?”

Lily laughed and blushed. “Paul McCartney. You?”

“Me too!” Miranda exclaimed. “John Lennon is a bit of a prick after all, isn’t he? Cheating on his
wife and all that.”

“He does believe in the right things, though,” Lily pointed out. “His anti-war stance, for instance.
And all the Beatles were against segregation when they went to America.”

“True,” Miranda conceded. “But a person can be a good person in public and a prick in private.
And vice versa.”

“Why would someone be a prick in public if they were a good person in private?” Lily asked,
laughing incredulously. “If you’re a good person, why not show it?”

“Who knows? Men being idiots, I suppose,” Miranda replied nonchalantly, twirling a blade of
grass between her fingers.

“It’s not just men,” Mary broke in, grinning slightly. “Some people just feel the need to act like
pricks. Still, I prefer good people who pretend to be pricks to pricks who pretend to be good
people. It’s better to see someone’s worst upfront rather than discover it later.”

“True enough,” Lily conceded. “But I like to stay away from pricks in general, whether they’re
good people deep down or not.”

The other girls laughed, and Miranda perked up as she looked past Dorcas towards the castle.
“Looks like whoever was practicing is done.” Dorcas turned around to see the small shapes of three
people walking around the castle towards them.

“It’s the Gryffindor team,” Mary said. “Emmeline told me they were practicing today.” She
squinted at the approaching figures, still in their Quidditch uniforms. “I don’t see her, though.”

“That’s Potter and Black, I think,” Lily said, squinting in their direction, too. “And Marlene,
maybe?”

Dorcas had recognized them, too. From far away, Marlene’s hair looked brown, which Dorcas
assumed was because it was wet from a shower. She was the same height as Sirius, walking next to
her, and she made her way toward them with her usual long, confident strides. As they grew closer,
Dorcas saw Sirius make a joke, and Marlene laughed and punched him in the arm. She was
brought back by Miranda’s voice.

“It’s strange to see them and not have Marcus be there,” the other girl mused, referring to her older
brother, who’d been one of the team’s Beaters the previous year. “I wonder if James is a good
Captain, compared to Florence.”

“Emmeline says he’s a natural leader,” Mary replied. “James is a bit scatterbrained generally, so
she was a bit worried at the start of term, but I guess he’s got laserlike focus when it comes to
Quidditch.”

“What’s Marcus doing these days?” Dorcas asked curiously.

“He got on the Wimbourne Wasps as a reserve,” Miranda replied proudly. “And he got a flat in
London with Florence. She’s playing for Pride of Portree.”

“They must be pretty serious, then,” Lily commented. “To have moved in together.”

“Seems like it,” Miranda said. “Marcus doesn’t tell me much, but our parents were a bit shocked
when they started living together right out of school.”

“It seems like lots of relationships in the wizarding world move fast,” Lily mused. “Your parents
met at Hogwarts, right, Dorcas?”

“Yes,” Dorcas replied. “But they didn’t get married and have me until they were ten years out of
school. James’ parents didn’t meet until they were older, too.”

“What about Marley’s family?” Lily asked, looking curiously over Dorcas’ shoulder towards
Marlene’s approaching figure.

“Well, they got married almost right after Hogwarts,” Dorcas said. “And they both moved to
London, too, right after school, from Ireland. So I think partially they wanted to make sure they
had each other, what with all the change.”

“My mam also got knocked up with me pretty quick after Hogwarts,” a familiar, amused voice
piped up from behind Dorcas, making her start. “So that might have been part of their hasty
marriage.” Dorcas turned to find that Marlene, Sirius, and James had come to a stop, standing just
behind her, grinning.

“Hello all,” James said. “Enjoying the sunshine?”

“As much as we can before it gets gloomy for months,” Mary replied, smiling at James.

Dorcas had noticed that Mary had become a lot more friendly towards James and Sirius since
they’d saved her from the Slytherin boys the previous year. She’d never really seemed to dislike
them in previous years, of course, only seemed a bit wary of their boisterousness and their
arrogance. This had been put aside in recent months, however, and Dorcas was glad to see it. It
seemed that the events of the previous year had brought all the sixth-year Gryffindors together in
one way or another.

“Good practice?” Dorcas asked.

“Pretty good,” James said, grinning. “Sirius managed to get hit in the face by a Bludger, though, so
he’s going to have a nasty bruise.”

“It barely clipped me,” Sirius defended. “I turned my head right in the nick of time.” Now that
Dorcas’ attention was drawn to it, she saw the red patch on his cheek, standing out against his pale
skin.
“Not in time for it to not hit you at all, clearly,” Lily commented wryly.

“Well, I got a badass-looking bruise out of it,” Sirius replied, grinning down at her. “People will be
wondering if I got into a fight.”

“And I’ll tell them you’re just a dunce who was paying so little attention you got hit in the face by
a Bludger,” James said, shaking his head exasperatedly. Sirius rolled his eyes, grinning, but didn’t
retort.

“Rare to find you not working these days,” Marlene commented to Dorcas, smiling and nodding to
the book next to her on the ground. Dorcas gave her a slight smile.

“I tried to read,” she said. “This lot wouldn’t let me.”

“I’m sure,” Marlene said. “One of these days you’d better fit me into your schedule, too, then.”

Dorcas felt a surge of unexpected anger rise up in her at Marlene’s words. Her tone was teasing,
but it was the implication that bothered her. After all, it wasn’t just Dorcas who’d been neglecting
their friendship lately.

“Sure, if you can fit me into yours,” Dorcas replied before she could stop herself, a hint of coolness
in her voice. Marlene looked slightly taken aback but concealed it quickly.

“Well, I should probably get back up to the castle,” Marlene said. “Things to do, you know. Essays
to write.” She grinned and glanced at Sirius, who smirked slightly, too. Marlene nodded to the
group and began to walk away towards the castle, Sirius following her.

“Wait, Sirius, we’re still doing that thing later today, right?” James called after him. Sirius turned
around, looking at James as he walked backward slowly in the direction that Marlene was going.

“Definitely. When?”

“I have to try to work on the Herbology paper for a while before,” James said, grimacing. “And all
the other homework I’ve neglected. Maybe later this evening, after dinner?”

“Sounds good,” Sirius replied, grinning. “Do you think Moony will come with us this time or sit it
out?”

“I don’t know,” James said. “Ask him if you see him. He might be in the dormitory.”

“I will,” Sirius said distractedly, then turned towards the castle again and jogged to catch up with
Marlene. He grabbed her by the waist, making her laugh and begin to chase him up towards the
large, oak front doors. The group watched them for a moment until they passed out of sight.

“Are they together?” Miranda asked, her head tilted slightly to the side as she examined their
distant figures curiously.

“Not in the traditional sense,” James said, letting out a snort of laughter. “I’d say that they’re the
only ones that know what they are to each other, but I’m not even sure that’s true. I think they’re
doing what they do best: making it up as they go along.”

Dorcas looked away from the spot where Sirius and Marlene had disappeared to see that Lily was
looking at her, a slight frown of concern on her face. As their eyes met, however, both girls looked
away.
“I’ve already done the Herbology paper, if you need help with it, James?” Miranda said, leaning
back on her palms again and raising her eyebrows at James. He smiled his wide, charming smile
down at her, and Dorcas rolled her eyes, though no one noticed. Looking over at Lily, she saw that
the other girl had a rather constipated look on her face, and fought the urge to giggle.

“That’d be great, thanks, Miranda,” James said, smiling. “Library?”

“Sounds good,” Miranda said, leaping to her feet and brushing her clothes off. The two walked
away, following in Sirius and Marlene’s footsteps up to the castle.

“What happened to no studying?” Dorcas asked wryly, though there was a smile on her face as she
watched them go. Lily let out a loud snort, and Mary began to laugh.

....

It was not until after dinner that Sirius went back to the dormitory to look for Remus, finding him
sitting on his bed, a heavy D.A.D.A. book open on his lap. Remus looked up at Sirius as he walked
in, registering the bruise on his cheek which was already starting to go purple around the edges.

“What happened to you?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. Sirius grinned ruefully at him.

“I got hit in the face with a Bludger during practice,” he said, walking over to his bed and falling
back onto it, closing his eyes with a sigh.

“How’d you manage that?” Remus asked, grinning slightly as he put his book aside and set his feet
on the ground beside his bed. He began to rummage in the drawer of his night table, looking for a
bruise cream Madam Pomfrey had given him.

“Wasn’t paying attention,” Sirius said tiredly. There was a pause. “I didn’t see you at dinner.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot,” Remus said, not looking at Sirius. “Just been working.”

“You’ve been working all day, then,” Sirius said. “Have you eaten at all?” Remus shrugged, but he
wasn’t sure if Sirius could see him.

“Just some crisps and chocolate I had lying around,” Remus admitted. “Where’ve you been since
practice?”

“You know, around,” Sirius replied vaguely, sounding distracted. Remus felt a flicker of
annoyance go through him.

He didn’t know why Sirius felt the need to be so secretive when they both knew exactly what he’d
been doing. Sirius had been spending almost every minute of his free time with Marlene for the last
month. While he didn’t say anything about it to any of his roommates, they had all noticed. It’d
become an unspoken thing that no one commented on, but James and Peter always traded knowing
looks whenever he left. Remus, for his part, was more annoyed by the situation than anything else.
If Sirius was just snogging Marlene, why was he being so strange about it? And even more than
that, why did he have to spend every moment with her? Remus had felt bolstered by the group’s
closeness over the summer, but ever since school had started, he felt rather abandoned by Sirius. It
was as if the other boy suddenly didn’t care about the renewed trust between them, after all the
turmoil of the previous year.

Remus finally found the little jar of bruise cream in the drawer and grabbed it, straightening up. He
paused for a moment, then turned and walked over towards Sirius, sitting down next to him on his
bed. Sirius sat up, and Remus unscrewed the jar with the ointment, wordlessly beginning to spread
a thin layer over Sirius’ cheek. Sirius wrinkled his nose slightly and closed his eyes, though he
didn’t flinch away from Remus’ fingers.

“That smells disgusting,” he remarked, and Remus rolled his eyes.

“Well, remember that next time you decide to make eyes at Marley across the Quidditch pitch,” he
said. His tone was light, but Sirius opened his eyes to give him an appraising look, his eyes slightly
narrowed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sirius asked. Remus shrugged and drew his hand back, screwing
the lid of the jar closed and standing up.

“Nothing,” he said, walking back over to his bed, his back to Sirius as he put the jar away again. “I
just assumed it was her who was distracting you.”

“That’s quite an assumption to make,” Sirius said, clearly trying for a note of humor. “I could’ve
been distracted by any number of things. Sometimes James makes a very funny face while he’s
trying to score.”

Remus let out a slight, disbelieving snort. “Okay.” There was a pause.

“What’s wrong with you lately?” Sirius asked. “I’ve barely seen you these last few weeks.”

“I’ve been here,” Remus said, turning and crossing his arms. “It’s you who’s been off all the time.”

Sirius stood up from the bed and peered over at Remus, his brow furrowed. “Seriously, Remus?
Are you going to do the silent, angry thing again? It’s a bit old at this point, you know.”

“Oh, fuck off, Sirius,” Remus said, shaking his head. “If you’re just going to pick a fight—”

“I’m not sure it’s me who’s picking a fight right now,” Sirius retorted. “It seems like you’ve got
something to say about how I’m spending my time. Why not just say it, then? Go on.”

Remus stared at Sirius for a few moments, frustration and anger coursing through him. “I don’t
have any problem with how you’re spending your time,” he said, his tone completely belying his
words. “It’d just be nice if, on occasion, you spent some of that time with us, you know, your
friends.”

Sirius laughed, a cold, hard laugh. “Funny, because I just came back to ask you if you wanted to
help with a prank Prongs and I have planned. You’re the one hiding up in the dormitory while
Prongs, Wormtail, and I were at dinner.”

Remus flushed slightly. “Well—” He broke off, searching for some intelligent retort, and trying his
hardest to ignore the truth in Sirius’ words. “I have to work this evening, so you’re going to have to
flood the dungeons on your own, or whatever genius plan you’ve come up with.”

“Oh, stop being all superior,” Sirius said, snorting. “If this is about Marley, just say it.”

“Okay, then,” Remus retorted. “What the hell are you doing with her, Sirius?”

“What am I doing with her?” Sirius repeated, laughing. He advanced slightly, both of them
squaring up for a fight. “Do you need a diagram? We’re having a good time, Remus. And last time
I checked, what I do is none of your business.”

“Well, last time I checked, you’re one of my closest friends,” Remus said coldly. “Usually when
people are friends they share things about their lives, you know? And yet I have no fucking idea
what the hell you think you’re doing with Marley because you never even fucking talk about it!”

“None of you fucking asked!”

Remus laughed humorlessly. “I heard that you two were snogging first through Lily. It didn’t really
seem like you wanted us to know, or to ask.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes at Remus, obviously trying to find a cutting retort. “It’s not my fault
you’re jealous,” he snapped finally.

Remus flinched, taking a step back, the words feeling like a punch to the gut, as if all the air had
been knocked out of him. The words hung in the air for a moment as the two boys stared at one
another. Sirius’ cheeks had flushed slightly, as if he regretted his impulsive statement. He hastened
to amend it.

“Maybe if you found someone to snog, you’d stop nosing into my business.”

“Jealous?” Remus spluttered belatedly, his face going redder at Sirius’ suggestion. “I am not
jealous!”

“Sure sounds like it,’’ Sirius retorted, though the color remained high on his cheekbones.
“Anyway, it’s not that complicated, Remus, so just bugger off.”

“Well, I think you’re being fucking reckless, as usual,” Remus returned. “You always act before
you think, but with this, it seems like you should’ve had plenty of time to think about how this
might affect the people around you.”

Sirius glared at him for a moment in silence mutinously, then retorted: “I’ve had plenty of time to
think about it, thank you, Remus. Believe it or not, I do care about how my feelings affect the
people around me.” His voice was so full of cold anger that Remus had to resist the urge to recoil.
Before he could retort, however, the door of the dormitory swung open.

“Padfoot, are you—” James walked through the door, then stopped, looking between them warily.
Remus’ face was red, Sirius’ jaw clenched, and they were standing several feet away from each
other, eyes locked as if in a stalemate. “Sorry,” James said cautiously. “Should I come back once
you two have had it out?”

“No,” Sirius said, taking a deep breath as if he’d just resurfaced after being underwater for an
extended period of time. He shot Remus a dirty look, then turned to James. “No, let’s go, Prongs.”

“Uh…are you coming, Moony?” James asked, giving Remus a confused look.

“No, no thanks, Prongs,” Remus replied rather stiffly. “I have to write an essay.”

“Moony’s being a stick in the mud, what else is new?” Sirius said coldly, pulling his bag over his
shoulder and not looking at Remus. “Come on, let’s go.”

He didn’t give Remus a backward glance as he walked out of the dormitory, his posture stiff.
James paused a moment, gave Remus an apologetic look, then followed him. Remus was left alone,
and he stood still for a second, breathing heavily, before walking back over to his bed, throwing
himself down onto it, and screaming into his pillow.
 1976: Play the Game
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

It's so easy when you know the rules

It's so easy, all you have to do is fall in love

Play the game

Everybody, play the game of love

- "Play the Game," Queen

James entered November in the now-familiar position of having two of his best friends barely
speaking to one another. He had no idea what’d happened between Remus and Sirius that day when
he’d walked in while they were arguing, as neither of them would tell him anything. He didn’t
press them. He’d long accepted that he would not be able to solve anything within their peculiar
friendship, as their manner of communication perplexed him endlessly. How could he solve
something he couldn’t understand? Nevertheless, the divisions between them bothered him, and he
hoped that they’d make up soon.

It wasn’t like what’d happened the previous year, he knew that: they sat together in classes and at
meals, but they rarely addressed one another directly, and when they did, there was a coldness
there. Remus gave Sirius a gift on his birthday, which they all celebrated together. On the full
moon a couple of days later, they were all present, too, and James thought he could sense a thawing
after that, but there was still a certain stiffness in how they spoke to one another.

James had other things on his mind, however, and they were much more pleasant to think about
than the current fight Remus and Sirius were in. For the past weeks, he’d spent a great deal of time
with Miranda Ellerton. He’d never spent much time with her before, though she’d always been on
his radar because of her close friendship with Mary, along with the fact that she was Marcus’—one
of the previous Gryffindor Beaters—younger sister.

In her own right, Miranda was funny and spirited, and James found that he enjoyed every minute
he spent with her, even given the fact that they spent most of their time studying. She was a great
study partner, too, as she was wickedly smart, but also able to make the dullest things interesting
with her commentary. Add in the fact that Miranda’s dark eyes sparkled whenever she laughed and
the way her smile seemed irresistibly contagious, and James was well and truly a goner.

One day in the library, while they were working on a Charms assignment together, she glanced up
at him and smiled. He took a few moments to notice, absorbed as he was with his work. When he
did notice her looking at him, her dark eyes twinkling, he gave her a smile in return. Her smile
widened, and her eyes flicked obviously down to his lips, then back up to his eyes. It wasn’t a
surprise when she moved in to close the gap, kissing him softly. He kissed her back slowly and
savored the small moment for its sweetness. When she drew back, she smiled widely at him.

“Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?” she asked, keeping her voice low so
as not to attract the attention of the librarian.
“That sounds great,” James replied, grinning. He kissed her again, smiling until she pulled back and
gave him a playful glare, nodding back to their schoolwork. He laughed quietly, and turned back,
too, but there was a soft smile on his face for the entirety of the rest of the day.

On the other hand, despite Miranda’s presence, James found himself continuously behind on his
schoolwork. Between his new responsibilities as a Quidditch Captain and the demand of his
classes, he was overwhelmed and constantly behind. Even when he did have time, he felt that his
mind was working against him, and he spent hours staring at a page instead of reading the words
on it. He’d had to serve a few detentions because of his inability to turn essays in on time, mostly
from Professor Slughorn. He tried to shrug off the feeling of shame and didn’t tell his friends about
it.

On Friday, however, this put him in an unexpected situation. He’d already had Potions that day—
during which James produced a passable, if not amazing Memory Potion—and Herbology, where
he’d nearly been strangled by a Venomous Tentacula plant which had grabbed him from behind.
Lunch had been a relief, and as he walked into the Great Hall, rubbing his neck and wincing
slightly, he almost ran into Professor McGonagall, who was standing in the entrance, looking stern.

“Whatever it is, I didn’t do it,” James said, a slight half-smile playing across his face as her look
stopped him in his tracks. McGonagall’s expression twitched slightly, and James knew that she’d
had to prevent herself from smiling at his antics.

“It’s always you,” she said. “But that’s not why I wish to speak with you today, Mr. Potter. Miss
Evans, a word?” James looked over in surprise to see Lily, a look of confusion on her face,
stopping just as she was about to enter the Great Hall and walking over to stand next to him in front
of McGonagall instead.

“Now,” McGonagall said, regarding them over her spectacles. “You both are extremely bright
students, but the pressures of N.E.W.T.s seem to be catching up with both of you.” James and Lily
exchanged a glance, both looking slightly defensive and a bit hostile. McGonagall let out an
inpatient noise.

“There’s no need to look like that,” she said, and James swore she appeared close to rolling her
eyes. “Mr. Potter, you excel at Transfiguration, but Professor Slughorn tells me that you have been
falling behind in his lessons. Miss Evans, you are a top student in Potions, yet you haven’t been
quite able to keep up in my classes lately. You see the obvious solution, I hope?”

Lily gave Professor McGonagall a horrified look. “Professor, please—”

“The two of you will assist each other with Potions and Transfiguration coursework,” Professor
McGonagall interrupted impatiently. “And I expect that this will produce better results from both
of you. Otherwise, I will assume that you would rather do supplemental coursework.”

“I don’t need her help.”

“I don’t need his help.”

James and Lily spoke at the same time and then turned to glare at each other. A wave of bitterness
and shame washed over James, his face growing hot. Not only had Professor Slughorn told
Professor McGonagall—his favorite professor—that he was behind, but McGonagall had decided
to saddle him with a tutor, and that tutor was Lily Evans, one of the people he least wanted to know
that he was struggling. The only silver lining, he told himself, was that she was clearly just as
embarrassed as he was. Her cheeks had flushed a dark red color, and he tried not to dwell on how
bright and striking it made her green eyes look by comparison. He’d tried to put that infatuation to
rest as best he could when it’d become clear that she detested him just as much this term as she had
the last, and he wasn’t trying to backslide now.

Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows. “An intelligent person knows when they need to ask
for help,” she rebuked them. “I recommend you both learn to swallow your pride.” Then, she
turned on her heel and walked off, leaving them both red-faced, standing in her wake. Lily didn’t
look at him before heading into the Great Hall, but as she walked away, James could see that even
the back of her neck was scarlet.

He followed her after a moment, his jaw clenched as he sat down with Peter, Remus, and Sirius at
the Gryffindor table. “What did McGonagall want?” Remus asked, raising his eyebrows at James.

James shrugged mutinously. “Apparently, I need help in Potions,” he said. “And Evans needs help
in Transfiguration, so we’re now supposed to study together.”

“What?” Remus asked, his brow knitting in confusion. “You’re brilliant at Potions! You’ve helped
me ever since first year.”

“Well, not this year,” James said, sighing. “This year, it all goes in one ear and out the other. So
the Potions Princess is going to have to help me.”

“Am I missing something?” Peter asked incredulously, his gaze moving from James to Remus.
“Shouldn’t you be thrilled? This is your chance to get Lily alone, to get her to like you.”

“Lily’s clearly never going to like me,” James said, feeling unusually grumpy after his
conversation with McGonagall. “And I don’t think me failing at Potions in front of her more than I
already do will help the matter, even if she does decide I’m alright someday. Besides, I’m going on
a date with Miranda Ellerton this weekend.”

“Yeah, but—” Peter said, rolling his eyes. “Miranda seems great and all that, but you’ve never
talked about her like you’ve talked about Lily. Last year, and even over the summer, it was all Lily
this, Lily that. If you have the chance at Lily, why go for Miranda?”

“Shut up, Pete,” Sirius rebuked him, looking annoyed. “You don’t just switch girls out for each
other like Chocolate Frog cards. Anyway, I vote Miranda over Lily any day. She's less likely to hex
you if you try to kiss her, which is always a plus in my book.”

Remus snorted in a way that was perhaps a little more derisive than teasing, as it might have been
under different circumstances. “Didn’t you fancy Miranda at some point?”

“Third year,” Sirius replied, unabashed. “Just shows, doesn’t it? I have good taste.” Remus rolled
his eyes but didn’t comment. James played with his food moodily.

“It’s not about the girls,” he said. “It’s about the fact that McGonagall thinks I’m hopeless at
Potions.”

“She didn’t say that, did she?” Remus reasoned, clearly trying to comfort his friend. “She knows
you’re a good student who maybe needs a bit of help, and Lily does, too. If she thought you were
hopeless, she wouldn’t even bother.”

“Maybe,” James conceded, though he still had a sulky frown on his face. Sirius nudged him.

“Cheer up,” he said. “You’ve got a date. And we’ve got the Hufflepuff vs. Ravenclaw match on
Sunday to entertain us. We can see what kind of teams they’ve put together, and talk strategy with
Marley.”
James perked up a little. “True,” he said. “I think Hufflepuff is going to win. I heard they got their
act together this year under Bletchley.”

“They’d better have, to beat Ravenclaw,” Sirius remarked. “They were really good last year, and
don’t have too many changes to their lineup.”

“I’m telling you,” James said, mostly broken out of his sulking at this point. “When Hufflepuff
rallies, they’re real competitors. Maybe even to us.” They continued to talk Quidditch until the bell
rang, at which point James gathered up his bag cheerfully, his conversation with McGonagall
shoved to the back of his mind.

....

That evening, James was again staying late in the library, struggling to work on the Potions essay
Slughorn had assigned, while his mind kept straying back to Quidditch, and to his date the next
day with Miranda. He was just dwelling on the memory of the soft feel of her lips on his when a
sharp smacking sound broke him out of his reverie. He looked up to see that Lily Evans had thrown
her books down onto the table across from him, and was now glaring at him impatiently, her green
eyes blazing.

“Hello, Evans,” he said, raising his eyebrows questioningly. “Can I help you?”

“You’re studying,” she said, looking like she would rather eat bubotuber pus than be speaking to
him. “I’m joining you. In case you forgot, we are now obligated to study together.”

“I hadn’t forgotten,” James said, a note of bitterness in his voice as his pride smarted again. “I just
assumed we would, you know, set up a study session or something. Not that you would come over
with a murderous look on your face and demand that we study together.”

“Well, it’s this or nothing,” Lily said. James marveled at her resemblance to a grizzly bear. “And if
your presence means I won’t spend half my weekend researching for the Transfiguration
homework, I suppose I’ll take it.”

She said this last part grudgingly, and James couldn’t help but grin. He’d not forgotten how
attractive she looked when she was angry with him. Still, he tried not to think about that. He
fancied Miranda now, not Lily. It was Miranda who he was going on a date to Hogsmeade with
that weekend.

“Fine,” he said. “If you explain this Potions theory to me in a way that doesn’t turn my brain to
sawdust, I’ll help you with the Transfiguration homework. I’ve already done it.”

It was true, he’d completed the homework in two hours that afternoon, and had been so focused on
it that he would have missed dinner if Sirius had not come to find him. Lily narrowed her eyes at
him briefly, but the temptation to talk about Potions was apparently too strong, and she quickly
delved into an explanation of Everlasting Elixirs.

James was surprised by how helpful Lily’s explanation of the topic was, much more
comprehensible than the paragraph about it in their textbook. He hurried to jot down notes on what
she’d said, outlining his essay in his quick, messy script with her direction. When he finished, he
saw that she’d already taken out her Transfiguration homework and was staring down at it in
frustration.

“Which part are you confused about?” he asked, feeling a lot more at ease now that they were on
his topic of expertise, rather than hers. Plus, the fact that the essay he’d been dreading was fully
outlined before him had earned her a great deal of his goodwill.

“All of it,” Lily said, shaking her head in frustration. “I don’t get the theory of conjuring, so maybe
that’s it. I mean, where is it supposed to come from?”

“Well, think of vanishing,” James said, leaning forward eagerly. “When you vanish something,
where does it go?”

“Into everything,” Lily said automatically, then hesitated, a frown on her face. “Or nothing. It’s
confusing.”

“Well, the theory is that it’s being transformed back into its basic components,” James said. “So,
elements, molecules, you know. Then, it goes back into the world, into everything. So it goes into
nothing, but also everything.”

“So, cosmic recycling,” Lily said, looking slightly amused. James grinned.

“You could say that,” he replied. “So, think of conjuring as the opposite. You can’t truly create
something out of nothing, but while with vanishing you disperse all the components of something,
with conjuring you’re essentially forcibly pushing components from the universe around you
together to create the thing you want.”

“But if you’re taking from the things around you, why doesn’t something in your environment
disappear when you conjure something?” Lily asked, raising her eyebrows challengingly.

“Well, actually, sometimes that can happen,” James explained excitedly, thinking of the advanced
theory he’d read over the summer on the topic. “Only if you’re conjuring a large or complex
enough thing, though. Sometimes wizards get overambitious and try to conjure up impossible
things, and then something gets taken away to balance the scales. But it’s very rare. The things that
most wizards conjure are small enough so that there’s no visible difference.”

Lily nodded slowly, and James could see that she was impressed against her will. “I suppose that’s
why vanishing and conjuring are taught in Transfiguration, not Charms,” she remarked, bending to
write an answer to one of the questions on her parchment.

“That’s it,” James confirmed, smiling before looking down at his own parchment, too, and sighing
internally at the prospect of writing out his essay. “It’s just confusing because when you’re
transforming one thing into something else, you can see the matter it’s being made from and
turned into. With vanishing and conjuring, you can only see one or the other.”

Lily made a small sound of assent in her throat, not looking at him, and James bent over his paper,
too, reminding himself that Lily wasn’t there to talk about the interesting details of Transfiguration
with him. She was there because she needed him, and he her.

They worked in near silence for the next hour, both of them scratching away at their respective
assignments. Once in a while, one of them would speak aloud to check a fact with the other, not
looking up, and the other one gave a quick answer. At one point, Lily muttered a sarcastic
comment about vanishing the stick shoved up Madam Pince’s arse as she walked by, craning her
neck to look suspiciously at their work before moving on, and James snorted loudly. As Lily
looked up at him, her green eyes met his hazel ones, and the expression on her face looked almost
satisfied, as if she was pleased to have made him laugh. James looked back down quickly, ignoring
the flip in his stomach at her glance. Lily Evans, he thought, needed to watch where she laid her
gaze, as her green eyes were far too dangerous for his liking. It was Miranda who he fancied, he
repeated to himself firmly.
The candles in the library were low by the time they finished their work. James wrote the last
sentence of his essay with a flourish, marveling at the short time it had taken him. Perhaps
McGonagall was onto something. Lily, too, seemed relieved and surprised to be done with her
work so quickly. As she slung her bag over her shoulder and began to walk out with him, she
admitted: “I was really dreading doing that assignment.”

“Glad you had my help?” James asked, smiling. Lily rolled her eyes.

“And here I was actually on the verge of tolerating you,” she said. “You had to get cocky.”

“Oh, come on,” James protested, backtracking quickly. “I can admit you helped me a lot with
Potions. Can’t you say that I helped you?”

“Fine,” she said. “You helped me. Just don’t let it go to your head.”

“I’ll try not to,” James said, chuckling and shaking his head. She really had a low opinion of him,
he thought. It was almost comical.

“I’m not sure McGonagall quite thought through the us helping each other thing,” Lily said,
smirking. “She should’ve given us this decree after the weekend if she was smarter about it. Now
you have all the time in the world to go down to Zonko’s and make her life hell for the next
month.”

James laughed. “Maybe she was hoping we’d have to work together over the weekend, and I
wouldn’t get the chance to go,” he mused. “It wouldn’t make a difference, though. I have other
ways to get into the village, not on Hogsmeade weekends. That’s not how I’ll be using my time
tomorrow.”

Lily raised her eyebrows incredulously at him. “You know you just admitted sneaking out of the
grounds to a school prefect, right?”

“Uh—” James said, his hand going to his hair nervously. He’d forgotten that Lily took her prefect
job seriously. He was used to saying completely out-of-bounds things to Remus and not receiving
any repercussions for it.

Lily just shook her head, a small smile blooming on her lips. “Relax,” she said. “I’m not in the
mood to rat you out. I just wanted to see your life flash before your eyes.”

“Very funny, Evans,” James said, letting out a relieved breath.

“So, what are your important plans this weekend, then?” Lily asked as they reached the bottom of
the Grand Staircase up to Gryffindor Tower.

“I’m going on a date with Miranda,” James said. His cheeks flushed slightly as he said it, but he
hoped Lily wouldn’t notice. She didn’t glance over at him.

“Oh,” she said, only the vaguest interest showing in her voice as they began to mount the stairs. “I
assume she asked you, then?”

“Why would you say that?” James asked, frowning. It was true, of course, but the assumption
bothered him somehow. Lily shot him a teasing half-smile.

“Well, you’re not exceptionally good with doing the asking out, historically,” Lily said. “I mean,
you never asked me out, except for that one time at the end of last year.”
“That’s not true!” James said, racking his brains for an example of a time he’d asked her out before
then to prove her wrong. He was surprised Lily was even bringing it up. “I asked you out before
that.”

“No, you didn’t,” Lily said, raising her eyebrows at him challengingly. “You just flirted with me,
very annoyingly, I might add. And you implied you wanted to take me out, but you never asked.”

“I must have,” James insisted, feeling foolish, though he himself couldn’t think of a single time
he’d done so before that one unfortunate day during their O.W.L.s. Was it really true that he’d been
too busy pining after Lily Evans the previous year to even officially ask her out, except for in the
worst possible moment?

“You didn’t, trust me,” Lily said. She gave him an almost pitying look.

“Would you have said yes if I had? Before that time by the lake, I mean,” James asked. He wasn’t
sure exactly what possessed him to ask it, knowing full well that it might make Lily just as
fervently avoidant of him as she had been the previous year before he’d dialed back the flirting.
Lily snorted.

“I didn’t say that,” she said. “But as a general tip: it’s not usually a successful tactic to ask a girl out
when you’re hexing her best friend.”

Both of them lapsed awkwardly into silence as they continued to walk towards the dormitory
together. When James glanced sideways at Lily, he found that she was blushing, seeming
embarrassed of her sudden, vulnerable outburst. She’d allowed her steely façade to slip in front of
him, and it was clear that she was unsure how to hitch it back up.

“I’m sorry,” James said quietly. “For that day. I was out of line.”

“In how you treated Severus, or me?” Lily asked, looking up at him. James sighed, running a hand
through his hair again.

“Both, I suppose,” he admitted. “I don’t feel bad for him, though. He’s still a piece of dragon dung,
in my opinion. I know I crossed a line, though, and you got in the middle, and I feel partially
responsible for him saying—well, for what happened.” Heat crept into his cheeks, and he looked
fixedly down at his feet as he continued to climb the stairs.

“You didn’t make him call me that word,” Lily said. “But thank you for apologizing, anyway. You
weren’t exactly innocent that day.”

They walked in silence for a couple more long moments, until James, who’d been searching around
for something to say, piped up again. “Do you have plans for Hogsmeade?”

“I’m going with Davey Gudgeon,” Lily answered, her voice expressionless.

“On a date?” James demanded, a little too quickly and loudly, his neck cricking as he turned to
look at her. She gave him a sarcastic look.

“Yes, Potter, on a date,” she said testily. “I have been known to say yes to blokes who don’t spend
every moment ruffling their hair or charming all the portraits to use swear words.”

“That was one of our best pranks,” James mused. “But I suppose there’s no accounting for taste.
Anyway, doesn’t Gudgeon still have a scar below his left eye from when he tried to touch the
Whomping Willow on a dare?”
“Yes,” Lily replied defensively. “What about it?”

“I’m just saying that perhaps you should consider that your taste in men isn’t quite as refined as
you think it is,” James pointed out, the ghost of a smirk on his face.

Lily glared at him. “I do recall that you’ve gotten close to the Whomping Willow a time or two
before, too,” she shot back.

James glanced at her quickly, his breath catching in his throat for a second before he realized what
she was referring to. He let out his breath quietly, reassuring himself that she didn’t know about
him or the others being Animagi, but even as he did so, his relief was replaced by a flicker of
anger.

“And I think you know that that wasn’t for a dare,” he responded quietly, but there was an edge to
his voice. He didn’t look at her, then, though he could feel her green eyes on him. He wasn’t sure
what he’d find in them, but all of a sudden, he felt exhausted by Lily Evans and her judgment. He’d
done things in his life that he wasn’t proud of, but nothing on the day that she was referring to.

It was with relief that he stepped onto the landing where the Fat Lady resided moments later and
gave her the password. He pushed the door open and walked through the portrait hole, Lily behind
him. Without looking at her, he said, “See you, Evans,” then walked across the almost empty room
towards the boys’ staircase, leaving her standing in his wake.

....

The next morning, James rose before the other boys, as per usual, and took a run around the
Quidditch pitch. Sirius never missed an opportunity to tell him that this sort of behavior was
strange and unnatural, but he would just laugh when his best friend tried to stay awake during early
morning practices.

James admitted to himself while running out across the field in a wide arc, that he was a bit
nervous about his date with Miranda. He hadn’t been on any dates since third year, with his then-
girlfriend, Sarah Flemming. She’d been nice, but it’d been that kind of little thing people had when
they were thirteen or fourteen: lots of blushing, awkwardly holding hands, and a few tentative
kisses. Anyway, she’d dumped him, which had only proved that he’d had a long way to go in
understanding girls.

In fourth year, he’d had his first proper snog with one of the Ravenclaw Chasers, Eliza Peakes,
who’d cornered him after one of their matches. She, however, had not wanted anything more than a
snog, so his dating life had been uneventful since then. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much of
anyone with dating experience to give him advice other than Peter. Peter, for his credit, did try hard
to give James good advice, but it seemed that there was no secret to his success with girls other
than the fact that his girlfriend Layla’s talkative nature worked well with his soft-spokenness, and
that she thought his pranks were funny. Other than that, he told James to be himself, and that
everybody liked him, which was not overly helpful, in James’ opinion.

After the sun’s rays began to peek over the horizon and cast the Quidditch pitch in dewy light,
James headed back inside. He raced up towards the Grand Staircase, passing a cat who gave him a
rather stern look on his way. He grinned and made a mental note to ask one of the other Marauders
whether they remembered what McGonagall’s Animagus markings were.

When James arrived back in the boys’ dormitory, all of his roommates were still asleep, so he
cheerfully walked into the loo to take a shower, knowing that he would have some time on his
hands before they woke. Sure enough, when he was done showering, his roommates were still
asleep. He got dressed quickly, then grabbed a book on his side table called Chasing Chasers:
Offensive Strategies in Quidditch, and sat down on his bed, propping his head up with his hand as
he read. It wasn’t until nine that Peter awoke, followed by Sirius. They only nodded to James as
they began to blearily get ready, but didn’t say anything.

At nine-thirty, it was Peter who cautiously opened Remus’ curtains a crack to wake him, but
Remus only murmured something to Peter, who closed them again. He turned back to James and
Sirius, shrugging.

“He has a migraine,” he said. “Says he’s not up to Hogsmeade today.” James made a noise of
sympathy, and went over to Remus’ curtains, too, speaking through them softly to his friend.

“Do you want us to bring you anything from the Great Hall, Moony?”

“No, I’m fine,” Remus replied, his voice sounding weak through the hangings.

“Okay,” James said, and sighed, leading the way out of the room with Sirius and Peter after him,
Sirius shooting a worried glance back at Remus’ closed hangings.

The three boys made their way out of Gryffindor Tower and down to the Great Hall for breakfast
together. As they sat down at the Gryffindor table, James spotted the back of Miranda’s dark,
braided hair at the Ravenclaw table, and his stomach lurched slightly. Sirius, seeing the slightly
panicked look on James’ face, gave his arm a friendly shove.

“Relax, mate,” he said. “It’ll be great. You’ll just hang out and talk. You’ve been doing that for
weeks now, anyway.”

“Yeah,” James said, turning to his breakfast. “Yeah, I know.” As he began to dig into his eggs, he
looked up at Peter and Sirius. “What are you two planning on doing at Hogsmeade, anyway?”

“I’m going with Layla,” Peter said, shrugging casually as he pulled his own plate towards him.
Peter had been dating the Slytherin girl for the past year, and they were still going strong, though
he kept the details of the relationship relatively private from the rest of the boys.

“I’m planning to meet up with Marley and some other people from the team,” Sirius said,
shrugging. “We’ll probably go to Zonko’s and the Three Broomsticks, or the Hog’s Head. Maybe
that barman might give me firewhiskey now that I’m seventeen.” James rolled his eyes. Sirius’
quest to get one of the pubs in Hogsmeade to serve him alcohol had been constant ever since he’d
turned fifteen, but he’d had no luck yet.

“I wouldn’t hold your breath,” Peter said, smirking. “I bet they know not to serve Hogwarts
students, overage or not.”

“You really think Dumbledore cares if I get sloshed on Hogsmeade weekends?” Sirius asked,
letting out an incredulous laugh.

“No, but McGonagall has eyes everywhere,” Peter replied, looking up at the table at the front of
the hall. Sirius followed his gaze and made a face.

“True,” he admitted. James smiled to himself, thinking of the cat he’d seen on his way back into
the castle that morning.

When they were finished with breakfast, the students formed a line at the doors of the castle, so
that Filch, the caretaker, could check their names and make sure no younger students were trying to
sneak into the village. James looked around for Miranda, not having seen her since the beginning
of breakfast, and caught sight of Lily instead. They locked eyes for a second before she looked
away, walking over to join a tall, blond-haired boy who was standing several meters away. He
smiled when she walked over and reached out to take her hand in his. James looked away quickly,
immediately spotting Miranda on the other side of the room, and made his way over to her through
the crowd.

She smiled as he approached, showing off her dimples. “It’s always hectic, this race to the doors,
isn’t it?” she asked. He laughed and nodded.

“Everyone’s eager to escape the grounds,” he replied. “It’s the only way we can all stay sane, after
being trapped with each other for so long.”

Miranda smiled. “I don’t mind it,” she said. “There’s always something to be entertained by. Shall
we?”

“Yeah,” James said hastily, getting in line next to her. He wasn’t sure whether to take her hand but
decided against it in the end. This was only their first date, after all.

After they were approved by the caretaker, they walked out into the grounds. It was a cold day,
and the clouds overhead promised rain. Still, the two warmed up as they walked together to the
village, talking amicably about their classes. Miranda’s favorite subject, James knew, was
Herbology, and in their time in the library, James had been amazed by the depths of her knowledge
about it. It seemed as though the properties of every plant they studied were stored in Miranda’s
organized, methodical mind, and she could talk about it for hours.

By the time they arrived at the village, they were engaged in a debate about the uses of Venomous
Tentacula, but they stopped and looked around once they entered, a moment of slight awkwardness
creeping upon them.

“Where do you want to go?” Miranda asked, pulling her scarf back around her neck from where it’d
come undone. James shrugged and looked down at her.

“The Three Broomsticks, maybe?” he suggested. “Then we can warm up before going to the other
shops.”

“Sounds good,” she said, and they made their way toward the pub. When they opened the doors, a
wave of warmth washed out at them, and they both ducked inside gratefully. Miranda quickly
found a table, and James went up to the bar to get drinks.

Madam Rosmerta winked at him as he arrived. “Are you on a date?” she asked, smiling teasingly at
him. James grinned back.

“Yeah,” he said. “Two butterbeers, please.”

Rosmerta reached under the bar and grabbed two bottles as James held the money out. She glanced
over at the table Miranda had chosen interestedly. “What’s her name?”

“Miranda,” James replied evasively, grinning. “She’s a Ravenclaw.”

“The best house,” Rosmerta replied, winking at him. He knew that the barmaid had once been in
Ravenclaw herself. “She’s pretty. Don’t bungle it up, Potter.”

James laughed. “I’ll try not to,” he replied, then took the bottles and went back to the table.

“Flirting with Rosmerta?” Miranda asked, smirking. James smiled.

“Always,” he said. “But Sirius claims that she likes him better, so I’m not sure what chance I
have.” He made a theatrically despondent face, and she laughed.

“Please, who would choose Sirius over you?” she asked, raising her eyebrows playfully. “You’ve
got that natural charm. Plus, you’re the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain. What witch could resist?”

James laughed again. “Sirius claims he has better hair.”

“Okay, that is true,” Miranda conceded, grinning at him teasingly, and James smiled in return,
taking a swig from his butterbeer. Across the pub, James could see Sirius sitting at a table next to
Marlene and across from Georgie Huxley, the fifth-year Chaser, and Kingsley Shacklebolt, his
fellow Beater, in fourth year. They were laughing together.

“So, what’s Marcus doing these days?” he asked Miranda, turning his attention back to her.

“He’s a reserve on the Wimbourne Wasps,” she replied, a note of pride in her voice. “And he’s
living in London with Florence.”

James gave a low whistle. “Good for him,” he said. “Getting a position on a Quidditch team right
after Hogwarts is hard.”

“He’s happy,” Miranda said, her smile full of fondness as she thought about her brother. “Not so
much when I tell him I’m rooting for Pride of Portree to beat his team in the finals, though.”

James smiled. “Are they your favorites?”

“No,” Miranda admitted. “But Florence is playing for them, now, and it makes him grumble. I
support Puddlemere United, on the whole.”

“Me too,” James said, grinning. “They’ll come out on top one of these days.”

They began to talk Quidditch, which occupied them for as long as their drinks lasted, then they got
up to leave. On their way out, they greeted Sirius, Marlene, and the other players at their table.

“Having fun?” James asked Sirius, his eyebrows raised in amusement. Sirius sighed.

“If that’s your way of asking if I convinced either Rosmerta or the barman at the Hog’s Head to
serve me firewhiskey, the answer’s no,” he admitted. “I’ll try again later.” James laughed and put a
hand on Sirius’ shoulder.

“I wouldn’t hold your breath,” he said. When they left Sirius and walked out into the street again,
Miranda leaned closer to him, raising her eyebrows.

“Doesn’t Sirius know that the pubs are warned off serving us alcohol before every Hogsmeade
weekend by the teachers?”

“Where’d you hear that?” James asked, surprised. Miranda gave him a conspiratorial smile.

“One of the ghosts told me,” she said. “McGonagall’s enough to scare anyone straight, I suppose,
even when you’re not a student.”

“Yeah, I don’t blame them,” James agreed.

“She’s clearly not enough to get you and your friends in line,” Miranda said, smiling up at him.
James only smirked as they walked down the street towards Honeydukes.
When they approached the shop, the doors opened, emitting two laughing people: Lily and Davey.
James nearly stopped short when he saw Lily, caught slightly off guard by her sudden appearance.
Usually, when Lily popped out at him, she was there to catch him in wrongdoing and give him a
detention, so he credited his quickening heartbeat to that. As she swept her shoulder-length hair
behind her ear, she caught sight of him. Shockingly, her wide smile didn’t falter, and she gave him
a little nod before turning away. He felt winded all of a sudden, and though he continued on with
Miranda into the store, it took him a moment to find his bearings once again as they resumed their
conversation.

Soon enough, it was afternoon, and Miranda and James were walking back up to the castle together
after their long, and, in James’ opinion, thoroughly enjoyable day. It was drizzling slightly by the
time they reached the top of the hill and caught sight of the castle. They were both a bit damp, and
laughing at a story Miranda had been telling about one of her housemates, who’d managed to turn
his ears into kumquats the previous year.

Once there was a lull in their conversation, however, James decided to broach the topic of a second
date. “This was fun, wasn’t it?”

“Definitely,” Miranda replied, smiling at him.

“Do you think, well, you might want to do something similar again sometime?” James asked, his
right hand ruffling his hair nervously as he glanced down at her. There was a slight pause where
the only sound was that of their footsteps in the grass, then she spoke.

“James, you’re a great bloke,” she began, then sighed, and turned to look up at him, halting their
progress, a tiny frown on her face. “But I’m not so sure this would work out between us.”

“Why not?” James asked, completely caught off guard as he stopped to face her, too. He’d thought
that they had had a great time that day. Hadn’t she said the same?

“Well,” Miranda said, smiling slightly to herself as if she was enjoying a private joke. “Because
you clearly still have feelings for Lily Evans.”

James opened his mouth and closed it again, trying to find something to say in response. Miranda
laughed, though not unkindly.

“It’s alright!” she said, her tone light. “I fancied you a bit, and I decided, why not go for it? But I
saw the way you looked at her when we ran into her and Davey this afternoon, and I realized that
that was that.”

“I—” James said, thinking back to the moment when he’d been startled by Lily and Davey leaving
the sweet shop. “That wasn’t—I don’t…” He trailed off, not quite sure what he was saying. He
decided to stick with the things he did know for certain. “I really like you, Miranda.”

“I know you do,” Miranda said, smiling wider now so that he could see her dimples again. “But
you like her, too. And I don’t want to waste my time going out with someone who has complicated
feelings about someone else.”

“I’m sorry,” James apologized, feeling embarrassed as a small part of him realized that she was
right, as much as he wanted to deny it. “I’m...not always the most aware of my own feelings,
complicated or otherwise.”

Miranda laughed again. “Work on that,” she joked. “But it’s okay, James. You’re handsome,
you’re funny, and you’re a good bloke, but you’re not all there is in the world. It seems like we
 might be better just being friends.”

“I’d like that,” James said, recovering from his surprise, and the pang of disappointment he felt in
his chest. “I’ve enjoyed spending time with you.”

“I’ve enjoyed spending time with you, too,” she replied, turning and continuing their walk up the
hill. As they neared the castle, they fell back into normal conversation, and by the time they
reached the castle doors, James felt as if all the awkwardness had dissolved between them.

When they’d passed into the entrance hall, Miranda turned to face him. There was no trace of
sadness or anger on her face, James saw with relief, when she smiled up at him. “I told Mary I’d
meet her in the Great Hall,” she said. “See you in class on Monday?”

“Yeah,” James said, still feeling slightly dazed. She smiled, then leaned up and kissed him on the
cheek, before turning and leaving him standing there. He stood still for a moment, then began to
make his way to Gryffindor Tower. As he mounted the stairs, he pondered what she’d said.

Lily, for reasons unknown to him, continued to nag on his brain. He couldn’t shake her, even when
he wanted to. He thought of the bright smile on her face in Hogsmeade, her red hair swinging
around her, and felt dazed once again. James shook his head, trying to clear it, frustrated with
himself. After his conversation with her the previous day, he was more confused than ever. Maybe
Sirius had been right all those times the previous year when he’d told James that Lily Evans was a
hypocrite and not worth his time. The jab she’d made at him the previous night did support that
conclusion. Unbidden, however, their earlier conversation echoed in his mind again:

You never asked me out, except for that one time at the end of last year.

Would you have said yes if I had?

I didn’t say that.

She hadn’t said no. She hadn’t said that she’d never go out with him, as she had when he’d asked
her out at the end of the previous year by the lake. Perhaps…

No, a small voice in his head said firmly. Forget about Lily Evans. She’s seeing someone else now,
anyway.

James sighed and gave the Fat Lady the password, pushing the portrait hole open. Ignoring the
commotion in the common room, with everyone back from the Hogsmeade trip in high spirits, he
took the stairs to his dormitory three at a time, then pushed the door open. It appeared empty, but
Remus’ hangings were still closed, meaning that he was probably still in his bed.

James sighed and flopped down upon his own four-poster, looking at his red hangings above him.

“Why are girls so complicated?” he asked the room at large despairingly.

“They’re not, you’re just stupid,” Remus replied grumpily, his voice slightly muffled from behind
his curtains.

“Thanks, Moony,” James said, sighing.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you all for over 100 kudos! I’m so glad you like my story enough to keep
reading, even though I haven’t been updating as much as I would like recently. In the
last few weeks, I’ve completed and submitted my thesis, passed my oral defense, done
my finals, and I am officially graduating college tomorrow! (It’s absolutely terrifying
and I’m having an existential crisis.) I’m looking for jobs, but I’m hoping for a teeny
bit of a break before I have to start work, so I can take a breather and write more! Also,
I finally found an ADHD med that doesn’t make me insane with anxiety and actually
works, so hopefully, I’ll get more done when my executive function isn’t fucking with
me all the time. Anyway, what I’m trying to communicate with all this random
oversharing about my life is that you should expect to see more chapters soon!!
 1977: Silence and Noise
Chapter Notes

cw: mentions of/allusions to underage sex, slut-shaming

Marlene spent New Year’s Eve at James’ house, with Dorcas, James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter.
James had invited them all over when his parents had told him that they were going out to a
Ministry function on the evening of December 31st. Euphemia, he’d said, had told him that he
could invite his friends over if he promised not to burn the house down, and to clean up after them
in the morning.

When Marlene had asked her mother and father whether she could go, she discovered that they’d
already discussed the plans with James’ and Dorcas’ parents. As it turned out, all three sets of
parents were attending the Ministry gala and had collectively decided to allow their children to
spend their time together that evening.

“Be safe, Marlene,” John McKinnon told his daughter sternly as they were readying themselves to
leave for the Ministry. She barely nodded in acknowledgment, practically vibrating with
excitement at the prospect of the night to come, and saw her parents exchange a wary glance. She
knew that they could imagine what kind of debauchery she was likely to get up to at James’ house
that evening, and that while they’d given her permission, they were not happy about it.

“We’re trusting you to be smart,” Imogen added, looking as if she was doing this against her better
judgment. “We’ll see you in the morning. Remember: back by one o’clock, alright?”

“Of course,” Marlene had exclaimed, smiling. Imogen kissed her daughter’s cheek, shook her head
in resignation, and they left, leaving Marlene to floo to James’ house. The next morning, as she
woke in a bed that was certainly not her own, her head throbbing slightly, Marlene wondered
whether that trust had been well placed.

“Fucking hell,” she said, lifting her head quickly and looking around. She shoved Sirius awake,
next to her, and he groaned.

“What?” he muttered, turning his head to look over at her as she rose, looking around frantically.

“I slept here!” Marlene hissed at him in an indignant stage whisper. “How could you let me sleep
here?”

“I didn’t make you fall asleep,” Sirius defended, sitting up bleary-eyed as she pulled on her
trousers, pushing her hair out of her face as she looked around frantically for her shirt.

“Yes,” Marlene said, glaring at him. “And if I don’t get out of here quickly, my parents aren’t
going to let me out of the house again until I’ve graduated Hogwarts!”

She cursed herself for not flooing home at the same time as Dorcas, once they’d all sobered up
after the dawn of the new year at midnight. But no, she’d promised to be right behind her, then
decided to sneak upstairs with Sirius after the rest had left and fallen asleep in his bed.

“Relax, Marley,” Sirius said, checking the clock next to his bed. “It’s only six a.m., still dark out. I
don’t even understand how you woke up at this time.”

“My body’s on a clock,” she said, grabbing her shirt off the floor and pulling it over her head,
before locating her shoes and crouching down to lace them up.

“Do the rest of your family get up so early?” Sirius asked, yawning and closing his eyes again.

“Not my parents,” Marlene said, pulling her messy hair back in a hasty ponytail. “Tyler sometimes
does. But they could’ve checked my bed last night.”

“If they had checked your bed last night, you would’ve been dragged out of here at one in the
morning,” Sirius said. “It’ll be fine.”

“Please tell me that James sleeps in in the mornings after he drinks,” Marlene said distractedly,
grabbing her wand from the bedside table and shoving it into the elastic keeping her ponytail
together. Sirius made a face.

“No such luck,” he said. “Odds are you won’t run into him, though. This early in the morning, he
doesn’t dawdle around the house before he goes on a run.”

“Here’s to hoping,” Marlene said. “I’m off.”

“Good luck,” Sirius said, smiling at her. “Let me know if I need to break you out before we go
back to school. I guess I could always sneak into your room next time we’re on break, though.”

“You have a death wish,” Marlene said, shaking her head, but she grinned back at him before
leaving and shutting the door cautiously behind her. She tiptoed along the empty hallway and then
down the stairs, but froze on the last step. James was standing in the sitting room, staring at her as
he held an empty firewhiskey bottle in his hand, which they’d hidden in the couch cushions the
night before. They both stood there, frozen, their eyes locked, for several moments, then finally he
gave a slight jerk of his head towards the fireplace.

“Get out of here before you two get us all into trouble,” he whispered. Then he paused, a look of
disgust flitting across his face. “I really, really don’t want to know.”

“Thanks, Jamie,” Marlene said, torn between embarrassment at being caught sneaking out and
hilarity at the look on his face.

Quickly, she took a handful of floo powder, threw it into the flames of the fireplace, and walked
into them, whispering her address. She spun quickly, James’ sitting room moving out of sight, and
clamped her mouth shut as her stomach churned. Soon, she stepped out of her fireplace in Oxford,
brushed the ash from her clothes, and looked around. The room was dark and empty, the curtains
still drawn, and she quickly thanked the lord under her breath as she tiptoed out of the lounge and
up the stairs.

The floorboards creaked slightly as she headed up them, but she prayed that her parents, if they
heard the sound, would merely assume that she was up early. As she neared her bedroom, she
heard the creak of a door and looked over to see a single blue eye peering out at her from her
brother, Tyler’s, bedroom. She resisted the urge to swear, then pushed his door open and shut it
quickly behind her, glaring down at the smug twelve-year-old standing in front of her.

“What do I have to do to get you to not tell mam and dad about this?” Marlene asked. She
absolutely detested the fact that she had to bargain with her brother, who was nearly five years
younger than her so that she wouldn’t get in trouble, but here they were. Tyler contemplated for a
moment, a smirk on his face, then crossed his arms.
“Throw the game against Ravenclaw at the end of term so we win,” he demanded. Marlene flicked
him across the forehead, making him wince and step back.

“Quit acting the maggot,” she snapped. “I’m not throwing the game.”

“Do my cleaning for me until we go back to school, then,” Tyler amended, rubbing his forehead
and glaring at her. She sighed.

“Fine,” she said. “But I’d better not hear you telling any of your friends about this at school,
either.”

“As if any of my friends care about you and your mates getting gargled,” Tyler scoffed. She flicked
him again, then turned to leave.

“Not a word, Ty,” she warned.

Fortunately, Tyler was good on his word, and the last few days of the holidays passed without
event. When they boarded the Hogwarts Express again on Monday, however, Marlene hardly had
time to greet James and Sirius as she entered the Marauders’ familiar compartment when James
gave her a bit of unpleasant news.

“We’re playing Ravenclaw in less than two weeks,” he said, his expression grim.

“What?!” Marlene exclaimed, taken aback and not quite sure she’d heard him right. “But it’s the
Slytherin versus Ravenclaw game that’s scheduled for next weekend!”

“Well, apparently Travers fell off his broom over the break, so he can’t play,” James said, looking
furious. “Eleanor, the Ravenclaw Captain, just told me. She looked pleased. I suppose she thinks
it’ll be easier to beat us now.”

Marlene grimaced at the mention of Eleanor Williams, who she’d disliked ever since their first
interaction, mostly due to the other girl’s persistent rudeness and haughty attitude towards
Marlene. She could just imagine the smirk on the seventh year’s face as she’d told James the news.

“Come off it,” Marlene said incredulously, pushing the snooty Ravenclaw from her mind. “What
could he have broken that they couldn’t have fixed by now?”

“Apparently he dislocated his shoulder, and it’s at risk of popping out again if he plays,” James
said, rolling his eyes. “Bullshit, if you ask me. They just want to sabotage us by giving us less time
to prepare.”

“At least Ravenclaw doesn’t seem to be doing their best this year,” Sirius mused. “They lost to
Hufflepuff before the end of last term.”

“Which means they’ll try even harder to beat us,” James pointed out. “Williams isn’t as good of a
Captain as Boot last year, but she’s got a temper. She won’t be happy to have lost.”

“So we only have two weeks to train,” Marlene said, rolling her eyes. “So what? We’ve been
training since the beginning of last term. We’re good, better than Ravenclaw from the looks of
their last match.”

James shook his head but said nothing. Marlene felt a surge of annoyance grow in her. Just because
James was the Gryffindor Captain now didn’t mean that he knew more than the rest of them.
Marlene had been on the team for the same amount of time as James had, no matter who’d been
made Captain. She’d known, of course, that it’d be James because he had a knack for leading
people, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting.

“I’m a better Seeker than Williams,” Marlene said, leaning forward again and looking at James. “If
it comes down to who catches the Snitch, you know I can win it for us.”

“Their Beaters are more experienced than ours, though,” James said, glancing at Sirius. “They’ve
been on the team longer, and working together longer, too, which gives them an advantage. One of
them could injure you with a Bludger so that you couldn’t get the Snitch. There are a lot of
factors.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Sirius muttered, rolling his eyes, though he didn’t look truly
offended.

“Stop clucking around like a mother hen, James,” Marlene said. “You’ll organize more training
sessions, we’ll talk over strategy, and we’ll beat them next weekend. That’ll wipe the smirk off of
Williams’ face.”

James still looked doubtful, but when Sirius and Marlene started playing a game of Exploding
Snap, he relented. “Is Dorcas going to join us later?” James asked as he watched them stacking the
cards carefully. Marlene shrugged, a pang going through her as she thought of her best friend.

“I haven’t seen her,” she said. She supposed that Dorcas was sitting with Lily and the other
Gryffindor girls. They usually met on the platform, but after looking around for several minutes,
then finding Dorcas’ father, Thomas, who told her that Dorcas had already gotten onto the train,
she realized that Dorcas hadn’t waited for her. It just added to the cold feeling that’d been coming
from her best friend for the last few months. Marlene tried to shake it off, but the coldness seemed
to have created a hollow pit in her stomach and was determined to cling there.

“What about the rest of your musketeers?” Marlene asked, referring to Remus and Peter, who were
notably absent in the usually full compartment.

“Pete said he was going to the loo about fifteen minutes ago,” Sirius remarked, rolling his eyes.
“So either he has food poisoning, or he’s with Layla.”

“And Remus is meeting with the other prefects,” James added. “He ought to be back soon.”

“Well, good,” Marlene joked, placing another card on her precarious structure. “The two of you are
boring on your own.”

Sirius laughed, while James rolled his eyes. “That reminds me,” he said, sitting back in his chair
and regarding them both sternly, with a look on his face that reminded Marlene of her father. “I
assume you didn’t get caught sneaking back into your house in the morning of the New Year?”

Marlene sighed exasperatedly and shared a glance with Sirius across the table. She’d known that
she’d be hearing from James about her early morning adventure at some point. Sirius grinned back
at her. “He bit my head off about it as soon as you left on Saturday morning.”

“Tyler saw me come back in,” Marlene admitted, looking at James. “The little wart made me do all
of his cleaning for the last couple of days so he wouldn’t snitch.”

“You do realize,” James said, his voice very serious, “that if you’d gotten caught, I would’ve
gotten in deep trouble, too, right?”

“You had us over for New Year’s Eve,” Marlene said. “They knew we weren’t going to be saying
our prayers and going to bed early.”
“They knew we’d be drinking,” James conceded. “But there’s a difference between knowing it and
seeing it, Marley. And if your parents had checked your bed that night when they got home, found
it empty, and came storming over to get you—”

“Yes, I’m very aware of what they would’ve found,” Marlene said, trying to suppress a shudder as
she imagined again her mother and father finding her half naked in Sirius’ bed, hair mussed and
clothes scattered across the floor.

“Well,” James said, looking annoyed. “As long as you’re aware. I quite like having you as a friend,
you know, Marley, and having you over to my house. If any of our parents knew that you two—
well, let’s just say that I would be held responsible for allowing it to happen, too.”

“Excuse me, allowing it to happen?” Marlene demanded, turning to him with raised eyebrows, just
as Sirius’ card castle exploded in his face. This, and the fact that Remus appeared at the
compartment door at that moment, saved James from withering under the glare that Marlene had
sent him, and he hurriedly began to help Sirius clear away his singed cards.

....

Despite James’ rebukes, Sirius and Marlene continued their trysts in abandoned classrooms across
the castle in the coming weeks. When they had time between all of their classes, homework, essays,
and frequent Quidditch practices, they could often be found together in the unlikeliest of places. It
was different every time, and sometimes finding a place to meet was half of the fun. Sirius often
used the Marauder’s Map to seek out empty places in the castle, but their explorations often
prompted him to add to it, too. One time, they came across a secret room on the seventh floor
across from a tapestry of a foolish wizard trying to train trolls for the ballet, which contained a
large, comfortable bed in it. When they looked for it again, however, it was gone. Sirius had
attempted to add it to the map, but the next day, the ink had also disappeared.

“It’s unplottable!” Sirius had exclaimed, intrigued, and Marlene made a mental note to keep an eye
out for the room, to see if it ever appeared again. She soon forgot about the curious circumstance
of the room, however, with the press of Sirius’ lips to hers.

It was a funny thing, what Sirius and Marlene did with each other. Sometimes, they just talked and
explored, like old times. Other times, they explored in a different way. Afterward, they’d often
lounge in whatever part of the dusty castle they had found, semi-clothed, just talking to one
another. Perhaps that was a function of the fact, which Marlene had learned quickly, that there was
a special kind of vulnerability that came with being naked with someone else.

To call it pillow talk made it sound too intimate, or intimate in the wrong way, and besides, there
were rarely any pillows involved. Marlene couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was, but in the
silence after they moved away from each other, it felt like the world around them had evaporated,
and maybe that was why it was easier to talk about things they normally wouldn’t have before.

Marlene sometimes shared things about her life that she’d never spoken to Sirius about before,
talking about her parents, her younger brother, or Diana and Thomas Meadowes. She talked about
Dorcas, too, sometimes, telling him about how cold she’d been lately, and how she feared the
distance between them. Sirius responded in kind, sharing things that Marlene hadn’t known about
him before. He even spoke about his family, which Marlene knew he rarely did to anyone. He told
her about his departure from his house the previous summer, painting a vivid picture in her head of
his younger brother’s stiff, turned back as he left, and the way that he never looked at Sirius
anymore in the corridors. Sirius told her of the letters he’d tried to write to Regulus and never sent.

Sirius was a better listener than Marlene had ever given him credit for before, too, in those quiet
moments away from everyone else. Both of them kept returning to talk of the war above all else,
but it took Marlene a while before she said, into the silence: “I’m scared.” It’d been comforting to
hear him answer back, “Me too.”

Perhaps this was what it took, her and Sirius, to admit to things like that: that their bravery felt
fragile and showy, and behind it, they were afraid. They had that in common, she thought: the way
that they both yearned for security, yearned for all the turmoil to be over. The way that they
admitted to each other how they didn’t want to fight, or at least, they didn’t want there to be a
reason to fight. That they didn’t want to die.

Marlene realized, after all the years of talking to Sirius, being his friend, and enjoying his
company, that this was truly why they got along so well. While they came from very different
backgrounds, they had the ability to see each other in a certain way, as they saw the reflection in
themselves. It wasn’t like with her and Dorcas, because while Marlene knew Dorcas like the back
of her own hand, she wasn’t like her. She and Sirius, she thought, were cut out of the same mold,
though they’d journeyed down different paths to get to where they were. This was what made their
relationship work. It wasn’t romantic, but it was intimate.

Of course, their strange relationship was difficult to explain to those around her. “I don’t
understand it,” James would say, shaking his head in the moments when he would ask her to
explain the two of them once again. “You both say the same thing. You hook up, you talk, and
you’re closer than you’ve ever been. I say, isn’t that what dating looks like, and you reply—”

“It’s just not like that,” Marlene said, sighing wearily. “We just don’t feel that way about each
other.” James just shook his head in confusion again, and let the subject drop.

By some miracle, Marlene and Sirius had managed to keep their relationship quiet from the other
inhabitants of Hogwarts during the previous term, but the information finally made its way out
during the first few weeks that they were back in classes in the spring. Rumors began to circulate,
as they always did, and Marlene now frequently had to resist the urge to hex the students who she
heard whispering about her or saw staring at her as she walked by. The whispers became nastier,
too, once the pupils of Hogwarts finally realized that they were definitely not dating.

“I heard McKinnon and Black got caught shagging in an empty classroom last week,” a girl said to
her friend on the second Friday of term when Marlene was in the girl’s bathroom. Lies, Marlene
thought bitterly, peering out at them from a stall. “I swear, if two of their friends weren’t prefects,
they wouldn’t get away with half of what they do.”

“I think it’s just Lupin that’s protecting them,” the other girl replied, sweeping her golden hair
behind her ear as she dried her hands. “From what I hear, Lily Evans doesn’t even like Marlene.”

“I don’t blame her,” the first girl said. Marlene finally realized who she was as she turned,
revealing her profile: Eleanor Williams, the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain. “McKinnon’s not even
nice. If Black’s type is Irish whores like her, I’d say it’s a compliment that he turned you down,
Helen.”

Marlene paused for a moment, the girls’ laughter ringing in her ears, her heart beating, then set her
face, and swung the stall door open. Both girls froze as they saw her, their eyes wide and startled.
Marlene took her time washing and drying her hands, then turned to stand in front of the taller girl,
whose long brown hair was done back in a high ponytail. Despite her height, Marlene was still
several inches taller than her, and she rather enjoyed looking down at the seventh-year Ravenclaw,
even as the other girl lifted her chin haughtily.

“Something you want to say to my face, Eleanor?” Marlene asked challengingly.

The other girl simply smirked. “Absolutely nothing, Marlene,” she responded, her voice full of
false warmth. “How’s your sixth year going? N.E.W.T. classes are hard, aren’t they?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Marlene retorted, her jaw clenched.

“Of course,” Eleanor simpered. “I just hope you have time to train for the match tomorrow with
your classes and all your other, uh, extracurricular activities. It’s probably best that you weren’t
made Captain. It can be quite the responsibility, and you’re already so busy.” Her smirk widened.
Marlene clenched her fists.

“I’ll be ready to flatten you and your team, Captain or not,” she practically growled. Eleanor let out
a light, tinkling laugh.

“Or maybe I’ll be the one to flatten you,” she said. Her voice had gone low and dangerous, the
smile wiped off her face to be replaced by a truly ugly expression. “So that they’ll have to wipe you
off the field.” She pushed past Marlene, her friend looking startled and following.

When the door swung shut behind her, Marlene sighed and leaned back against the sinks, taking a
deep breath and letting it out in a huff. The phrase Irish whore echoed in her ears, and she winced,
turning to the mirror and looking into her own blue eyes. Her reflection looked back at her, the
flush of her cheeks and clenched jaw betraying her anger. Still, she thought she looked smaller than
usual, too, as if she’d been defeated. She lifted her chin, straightening her back and relaxing her
jaw. Good, she thought. Now you look fearless. She didn’t want anyone to know that they’d
perturbed her, much less Eleanor, who struck at any sign of weakness. Steeling herself, she left the
bathroom and went back to her classes, trying to shake the comment off.

“Why do you think she hates you?” Sirius asked, later that day, sitting on the floor against the desk
at the front of an empty Transfiguration classroom, his chest bare, looking at Marlene, who was
digging angrily into a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans beside him, her long, bare legs
stretched out on the dusty floor, her uniform shirt unbuttoned.

Marlene laughed. “She’s always hated me,” she said. “She said I was an Irish whore, so maybe
that’s it.”

“You’re not a whore,” Sirius protested. Marlene glared at him.

“I’m aware of that, Sirius,” she snapped, grimacing at the bogey-flavored bean she’d eaten by
accident. “I meant because I’m Irish. There have been more bombings, so people hate us even more
than usual recently.”

“Well, there’s nothing you can do about her hating you for a prejudiced reason like that,” Sirius
said. There was another moment of silence when Marlene finally gave the box of beans up as a bad
job and threw them into the wastepaper basket.

“I don’t know why I even bother,” she sighed, watching the box disappear, the trash bin letting out
a loud belch.

“You do know it’s not true, right?” Sirius asked again. His grey eyes were fixed on her. “Nothing
we’re doing here is bad. You’re not a slag.”

Marlene rolled her eyes and shook her head at the ceiling before looking at him. “Don’t start,
Sirius,” she said. “If that’s how people choose to see me, I can’t do anything about it either. We’re
not dating. Plenty of people will think I’m a slag for what we’re doing here. I seem to recall my
mam telling me something about cows and milk when I was fourteen.”
“Well, you’re not a cow, either,” Sirius said, trying at a note of lightness. She turned to him, her
expression full of irony, eyebrows raised. He sighed. “Okay, not helping. But your mum is wrong,
and you know it. When was she born, anyway, the 30s?”

“40s,” Marlene sighed. “She was also raised strictly Roman Catholic.”

“Ah,” Sirius said, looking at her. “Were you raised that way, too?”

Marlene shrugged. “Not as strictly,” she said. “But yes, we went to church.”

“Do you believe in God?” Sirius asked curiously. Marlene had to think about that for a moment.
She’d believed when she’d been a child, but these days, she wasn’t as certain. Finally, she sighed.

“Sometimes,” she said, shrugging. “Were you raised religious?”

“No,” Sirius said, shaking his head. “The only stories that had any types of gods or goddesses in
them that I learned as a child were about the Greeks and Romans.”

“Of course,” Marlene replied, smirking. “All of your names.”

Sirius snorted. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice mocking. “Pretentious idiots. Moral values in my
family weren’t connected to any type of religion, though. It was just about keeping social customs,
upholding the legacy, blah blah blah. The only hellfire in my family is social disgrace, and
whatever punishment is seen as an appropriate match to it.”

Marlene glanced over at him. His expression was dark, just as it always was when he spoke of his
family, and his fists were clenched, his knuckles white. His grey eyes looked distant, and Marlene
knew that he was thinking of some bad memory from his past. She wasn’t sure if it was the right
thing to do, but tentatively, she reached out and laid her right hand over his left one. He tensed
briefly, then relaxed, unclenching his fist. She saw that his nails had made small half-moon
imprints into the palm of his hand, but they were already fading.

“What would the Greeks and Romans think of what we’re doing here?” she asked, trying for
lightness. Sirius laughed.

“In most old stories, the Greeks and Romans were shagging constantly. Still,” he said, his voice
growing more serious, “they found plenty of ways to shame women for it.”

Marlene laughed sourly. “Seems nothing changes,” she said. “You get clapped on the back and I’m
called a whore.”

“If you’re a whore, then I’m a whore, too.”

“It doesn’t have the same kick behind the word when they’re not using it to shame a witch,
though,” Marlene said, letting out a bitter laugh.

“Even if I decided to streak across the Great Hall with the word painted across my buttocks?”
Sirius asked mock-hopefully. Marlene laughed at the image, but the grin slid off her face quickly.

“Maybe this is why Dee has been so cold to me lately,” she said.

“Marley, come on,” Sirius implored. “Dorcas would never think that about you.”

Marlene just sighed, looking down at her hands. She knew Sirius was looking at her, but she didn’t
want to meet his grey gaze. No joke would make her feel better, just then. But what he said next
wasn’t a joke.

“Do you want to stop this?” Sirius asked quietly. “I’d understand if you did. To stop the whispers, I
mean.”

She really did snap her head up and look at him, then, searching his expression, which was
suddenly very serious. She examined him for a moment, the curve of his jaw, line of his nose, full
lips, dark brows, which were slightly furrowed, and long hair, falling into his eyes, which watched
her intently. Through his hair, she could see the single black dragon earring that Dorcas had made
for him for his birthday, flapping lazily. He hadn’t taken it off since he’d gotten it in November,
and though Marlene often teased him about it, she also thought it rather suited him. Slowly, she
shook her head.

“I like this,” she responded, equally seriously. “It feels good and safe, and that’s because I trust
you. Because you’re my friend. When I’m with you, I don’t feel like a slag at all, Sirius. I just feel
like me. And you feel like you. And it’s nice to have someone close. I know that probably
wouldn’t make sense to a lot of people, but it makes sense to me.”

Sirius nodded. “I feel the same way,” he said. He squeezed her hand, which was still in his. “I’m
always here for you, Marley.”

“And me for you,” she said. She scooted closer, leaning her head on his shoulder, and they stayed
like that for a long time.

Despite all she’d said to Sirius that day, when Marlene turned in for the night, closing her hangings
around her and sitting down on her bed, she wrapped her arms around her knees and cried quietly
into her sleeves. She couldn’t help it. After everything that’d happened over the last few months,
not just that day, she just wanted to talk to one person, and that person wasn’t Sirius. But despite
Dorcas being only a few yards away from her, she felt as distant as the moon, and Marlene fell
asleep feeling very, very alone.

....

Marlene woke early on the morning of the Quidditch game, as she always did, but as she rose, she
felt the sensation of butterflies in her stomach, which was less expected. She sighed, tiptoeing over
to the bathroom and shutting the door behind her. She splashed her face with cold water, then set
about brushing her teeth, examining her reflection in the mirror again. She looked tired, she knew,
from all the tossing and turning of the previous night, and she couldn’t find any of the anticipatory
glint in her eyes that usually appeared before their matches.

Often, Marlene would wake earlier than usual on these mornings, leaping out of bed with more
than her usual enthusiasm, and, vibrating with excitement, take a walk around the grounds. In
previous years, Dorcas would often wake early to accompany her, listening as Marlene excitedly
talked over strategies and moves she’d been trying out in practices and wondered aloud which
she’d need to use. That morning, however, Dorcas’ hangings were still drawn tightly shut when
Marlene reemerged from the bathroom, and so she left to go down to the common room alone.

When she reached the large, circular room, she saw that James was up as well, sitting in a window
seat and pouring over a book. Marlene knew, without having to read the title, that it was about
Quidditch. There was no way that James would be able to focus on anything else that morning.

“You know, you can’t study for a Quidditch match like an exam,” she commented, walking over to
him. He started slightly and looked up at her, then grinned, marking his page and putting the book
down.
“I know,” he said. “Just something to pass the time, calm my nerves.”

“Is it working?” Marlene asked, stopping in front of him. James shrugged.

“A bit,” he replied. “Going down to breakfast?”

Marlene shook her head. She felt slightly queasy and didn’t feel like eating yet. “Out for a walk.”

“Can I join you?” James asked. “No one will be up for a while, and I was getting bored all by
myself.”

“Sure,” Marlene replied, shrugging noncommittally. James stood, and, leaving his book abandoned
on his seat, walked out of the portrait hole with her.

“So,” James said after they’d walked in silence for a few minutes. “Dorcas still asleep?” Marlene
knew what he was asking, it was the same question she’d asked herself that morning, seeing her
best friend’s hangings closed: Why isn’t Dorcas with you?

“Yeah,” she replied.

“Is something up with you two?” James asked, clearly not satisfied with her one-word answer.

“You’d have to ask her,” Marlene said. “She’s always off with Lily and Mary these days.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” James said, rolling his eyes as they reached the bottom of the stairs and walked
out into the entrance hall. “I’m not going to go back and forth between you two trying to fix things.
You have to ask her yourself.”

Marlene didn’t reply. She wasn’t in the mood to think about Dorcas or be lectured by James, not
when her stomach was already in knots. And for all James’ insistence that he wouldn’t try and fix
things between them, she knew better. When they’d been eight and Marlene had told Dorcas that
she was a bore because she didn’t want to fly with them, Dorcas had responded by throwing a
handful of mud at her, and James had gone back and forth between the two for days to get them to
reconcile. The same thing had happened when they’d been ten and Dorcas had refused to speak to
Marlene after she’d visited her family in Ireland for a month, angry that Marlene hadn’t been able
to convince her parents to bring Dorcas, too. James had always been the one to reconcile them
because he couldn’t handle it when anyone around him was fighting. She was surprised, therefore,
when he changed the subject.

“Does your sour mood have anything to do with a certain Ravenclaw Seeker?” he asked, chancing
a glance over at her as they made their way out onto the snowy grounds, icy wind whipping both of
their hair back.

“Did Sirius say something to you?” Marlene demanded, her head finally snapping around to look at
him. He looked slightly pleased to have finally gotten a reaction, but his brow quickly knitted in
confusion.

“Sirius? No,” he denied. “I was just guessing. You’re usually not nervous before matches, and I
know you hate her.”

“She hates me,” Marlene corrected, frowning. “I just return the favor.”

“An eye for an eye makes the whole world go blind, Marley,” James quoted, a note of amusement
in his voice. The grin slid off his face when she shot him a glare. “What?” he asked, genuinely
perplexed now. “Did something happen?”
“Nothing,” Marlene said, grabbing the last remaining leaf from a nearby tree as she passed it and
tearing it to shreds. After a moment of silence, however, she relented. “I was in the girls' toilets the
other day and overheard her saying some things about me to Helen Diggory.”

She hesitated, not sure how much more to elaborate. James loved her, she knew, but she also knew
that he wasn’t happy about her and Sirius’ relationship. What if he agreed with Eleanor? What if
he thought she was a slag, too?

“What did she say?” James asked, his expression suddenly serious, tense, as if he was readying
himself for a fight. Marlene would’ve smiled if it were a different circumstance. An eye for an eye
makes the whole world go blind, James, she almost said back to him. Instead, she sighed.

“She called me an Irish whore,” Marlene admitted. She saw James’ jaw clench beside her, and his
eyes blazed.

“And when you confronted her?” he asked, knowing her too well.

“She made some more jibes,” Marlene said. “About me being busy, and hoping that we had time to
train. Then she practically threatened to knock me off my broom at the match today.”

“If anyone’s going to be knocked off their broom, it’ll be her,” James said, his voice full of barely
suppressed anger. “You’re twice the player she’ll ever be.”

Marlene let out an incredulous laugh. “What happened to your pre-match nerves? You’re the one
always going on about the worst-case scenarios and what-ifs.”

“When I need to be the one telling my team not to get too cocky, I’ll be that Captain,” James said,
shrugging. “Right now it’s my job to tell you that I have complete confidence in the fact that you’ll
be the one to flatten her today.”

“I would’ve been a terrible Captain,” Marlene muttered, looking down at the ground as they
walked. “Too much bravado and not enough caution.”

“You would’ve been a great Captain,” James said quietly. Marlene looked over at him and found
he was looking back at her, a question in his gaze.

“Well, no one ever even considered me, so that’s got to tell you something,” she said, breaking the
eye contact. James let out a short laugh.

“Because you never wanted it, Marlene,” he said. “You were never interested in doing the
organizational tasks. You just want to play; you don’t want to set up practice times or tryouts or
coordinate with McGonagall.”

“It would’ve been nice to be considered,” Marlene mumbled, suddenly feeling foolish. James shook
his head and smiled, frustration and affection fighting on his face.

“I get that,” he said patiently. “But it was never about who was the best player, or a popularity
contest. Florence always liked you best, she just backed me as the choice because she knew I
would take to the job, and you would hate it. Still, it’s not like I’ve been the sole leader of the team
this year. You and Emmeline both helped me in picking new people during tryouts and in training
everyone. And when you catch the Snitch today, it’ll be you leading us to victory, not me.”

Marlene hesitated. “And if Eleanor knocks me off my broom?”

“Then I’ll drop the Quaffle and knock her right off after you,” James said, shrugging, a slight smile
playing across his face. “We’ll forfeit and throw a party next to your hospital bed anyway.”

Marlene couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face and she shoved him with her shoulder.
“Prick,” she said as he laughed.

“Do you think I’d get a foul if I broke her nose right after I caught the Snitch?” Marlene mused.
The sun was rising over the horizon now, and they turned their feet back towards the castle, to
breakfast, Marlene suddenly feeling ravenous.

“Probably a detention, not a foul,” James speculated. “It’d be worth it, if you ask me. You’re
Marlene fucking McKinnon. She should know not to mess with you.”

Marlene laughed, feeling lighter. The question that’d been on her mind before, when she’d
hesitated to tell James about what Eleanor had called her, felt incredibly irrelevant now. James, for
all his flaws, was like a brother to her. No matter how much he whinged about her and Sirius,
making faces and shuddering, she now realized that he’d never, ever judge her for her choices.
That was why he hadn’t even felt the need to say that what Eleanor had said wasn’t true because he
assumed she already knew what he thought. Perhaps, in her insecurity and fear, she’d jumped to
conclusions, and not just about James.

When they entered the Great Hall for breakfast, they found it buzzing, and, as they approached the
Gryffindor table, Marlene was met with a sight that served to ease the knot of tension in her
stomach still further: Mary, painting Dorcas’ face red and gold. When Marlene and James reached
them, Dorcas opened her eyes, and, catching sight of Marlene, smiled. It was a tentative smile, but
Marlene hadn’t seen it in days, and it felt like a bright dawn chasing away a pitch-black night, and
the only thing that mattered at that moment. Marlene smiled back, and, suddenly unable to help
herself, moved to hug her best friend. Dorcas tensed at first, obviously startled, then relaxed and
hugged back.

“Don’t smudge the paint,” Mary warned, and Marlene drew back just as quickly as she had reached
for Dorcas. Dorcas smiled, wider than before.

“Your shirt might be stained now,” she said. Marlene shrugged.

“I don’t care,” she said. “It’s good luck.”

“Nervous?” Dorcas asked, looking up at Marlene, her brown eyes searching her face.

“No,” Marlene said, shaking her head and smiling, realizing as she did so that she was being
completely honest. Her nerves had disappeared the moment Dorcas had smiled at her. “I’m
Marlene fucking McKinnon,” she said, grinning at Dorcas, who looked amused. “What would I
have to be nervous about?”

....

As it turned out, there was nothing for Marlene to be nervous about at all. The Ravenclaws fought
hard, just as James had predicted, their Chasers fast and determined, Beaters vicious, and everyone
working in well-practiced unison, but still, the Gryffindors were better. It went on longer than
Marlene had expected, as Eleanor, true to her words, blocked and tried to shove Marlene at every
chance she got, preventing her from catching the Snitch twice. However, when Marlene spotted it
for the third time and Eleanor attempted to side-check her, a Bludger came out of nowhere on her
right and hit her squarely in the shoulder. The Ravenclaws groaned as their Seeker gasped and
clutched at her arm, but Marlene ignored them, speeding up, and in seconds, she had the tiny
golden ball in her grasp.
Looking around, she caught Sirius smirking at her, and knew that he’d been the one to hit the
Bludger at Eleanor, who was swearing loudly, presumably both from the pain of her apparently
broken collarbone, and from the Ravenclaws second loss of the season. She smiled back, triumph
in her heart as she raised her hand into the air to the cheers of the Gryffindors in the crowd.

James reached her first when she landed on the snowy field and picked her up in a giant hug,
spinning her around before setting her back down, beaming. “You did it!” he yelled over the noise
of the crowd, laughing with giddy happiness. “You beat her!”

“We beat them,” Marlene corrected, grinning at him and giggling. “If only Sirius had managed to
knock Williams off of her broom.” Sirius landed next to her and pulled her into his own hug.

“I tried,” Sirius said, laughing, as the rest of the team landed around them and began congratulating
each other. The crowd had begun to stream onto the pitch, too, surrounding them all in the clamor.
Marlene looked over to the Ravenclaw team, who were shaking their heads disappointedly, casting
dark looks over at them. Eleanor was cradling her arm and had begun to walk away towards the
castle. Marlene couldn’t help herself.

“Not bad for an Irish whore, eh?” she shouted over at the brunette’s retreating back.

Marlene wasn’t sure if the Ravenclaw Captain would hear her, but the other girl clearly did,
stopping in her tracks, her whole body tensing. In a flash, she’d turned and strode back to Marlene,
looking furious, and punched her hard in the face. She had to use her left hand, not her right, so she
didn’t break Marlene’s nose, but she struck her hard enough for Marlene’s nose to start to bleed.
Marlene didn’t hesitate, but struck back immediately, her hand still clutched around the Snitch. Her
punch had considerably more force behind it, and she heard the satisfying crack of the other girl’s
nose as it broke, even over the clamor of the crowd.

Eleanor stumbled back, bringing her good hand up to her nose and staring at Marlene in shock.
Marlene smirked at her. “Better get that fixed,” she said. “I hope your pride won’t be hurt too badly
by a bottom-of-the-table defeat this year.”

Eleanor hesitated for a split second, as if she was contemplating hitting Marlene again, but
whatever she was thinking of, another Ravenclaw Chaser appeared next to her and began talking to
her quickly, obviously trying to move her away, and Eleanor relented. Marlene watched in
satisfaction as Eleanor allowed herself to be led away from the crowd, then turned back to her
teammates. She was lucky, she thought, that the crowd had hidden the exchange from the teachers,
though it’d been Eleanor who’d struck first.

Sirius had watched the whole thing, laughing raucously, and gave Marlene a high five as she turned
back towards her team. James grinned at her, too, hoisting her up on his shoulders, high above the
crowd. Marlene held up the Snitch again, her knuckles bruised and her nose still streaming blood,
grinning from ear to ear as she was borne back into the castle over everyone’s heads, the
Gryffindors cheering until they were all hoarse.

When Marlene looked around for Dorcas, she spotted her only a few yards away, gazing up at
Marlene with a giddy smile on her painted face, something almost akin to awe in her dark eyes. As
Marlene looked at her, Dorcas tried to shout something to her over the crowd, her lips moving, but
her words were lost in all the noise, and Marlene lost sight of Dorcas a moment later as they all
made their way back to Gryffindor Tower. When James put Marlene down in front of the portrait
hole, she thought she saw Dorcas again as the crowd parted briefly, a sad sort of half-smile on her
face, but then she blinked, and Dorcas was gone.
 1977: Control, Part 1
Chapter Notes

cw: brief description of violence/gore

Dorcas hadn’t been able to stomach the Quidditch after-party. After seeing Marlene on James’
shoulders, her whole face glowing as she lifted the Snitch high above her head, bloody tracks from
her nosebleed drying on her face like some kind of brilliant, avenging angel, Dorcas hadn’t been
able to catch her breath. And when Marlene had turned that smile on her, Dorcas thought she’d die
right there, overcome by her rapidly beating heart and lungs which didn’t seem to be working
properly.

But after Marlene had turned away, reality came rushing back for Dorcas with the realization that
Marlene was not—and never would be—hers. Dorcas tried to push away her sadness, then pushed
past everyone else as they began to fill the common room and ran up the girls’ staircase, looking
for solitude. When she entered the empty dorm, Dorcas headed straight for the bathroom first.
Looking at herself in the mirror, she thought she looked like a child’s painting, ridiculous with her
gold and red striped face.

Almost angrily, Dorcas scrubbed the paint off. She watched as the colors flowed down the drain
set into the cold marble sink, then looked back at herself. She had dark circles under her eyes from
many days with little sleep, and she thought even her eyes themselves had a weary quality about
them. Though the holidays had been a brief reprieve from the pressure of her schoolwork, it’d only
gotten more difficult once she’d returned to Hogwarts in January.

One week into the term, Dorcas had given up the idea of interacting with her peers at all. She spent
her days in the library, sometimes studying with Lily, Mary, or Remus when they were there, but
paying them little attention. There had even been a day when she’d been studying with James and
Lily had arrived to join them, to which Dorcas barely lifted an eyebrow, consumed as she was with
her work. People came and went, and Dorcas stayed until the candles burned down and she was
told to leave. Then, she would retreat to the empty common room and work there until she couldn’t
keep her eyes open any longer. In this way, weeks and months had passed in a haze, Dorcas barely
noticing.

Dorcas sighed, stepping back out of the bathroom and into the room she shared with the five other
Gryffindor girls. It was still empty, with the sounds of celebration coming from the common room
below her. She quickly changed into her pajamas and got into her four-poster bed, casting a
silencing charm around it deftly. The sounds faded, and Dorcas sighed out a breath of relief.

She pulled a book from her bedside table, then curled under her covers, leaning back on her pillows
to read. Her Muggle Studies professor had assigned them all to do a book review of a Muggle
novel that term, and she’d chosen a recent publication by an American author: Song of Solomon. So
far, Dorcas was fascinated by it, and she enjoyed the chance to read fiction while still working,
which she’d had so little time to do, recently. It also gave her the chance to escape her world,
which, whenever she looked up at it through her haze, was very unpleasant.

Dorcas had known her sixth year wasn’t likely to be much fun when she’d seen the first signs of
flirtation between Sirius and Marlene over the summer, but she couldn’t have predicted the other
obstacles that’d come her way since. It had been early December when things had started to get
worse for Dorcas. In Potions, Professor Slughorn had decided he wanted a bit more inter-house
unity and had determined to change the seating arrangements so students from different houses sat
next to one another. This had been alright for some of them, who’d been seated next to students in
Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, but Dorcas hadn’t been so lucky, and neither had Lily.

She’d given her friend a sympathetic frown as Lily, clearly trying to hide her distress, walked over
to sit beside Severus Snape. Slughorn, it seemed, either didn’t know or didn’t care that the two
were no longer friends. They were his two favorites in the class, and he liked to play matchmaker.

Dorcas was distracted from Lily’s plight, however, as Evan Rosier slid into the seat beside her,
sending her an icy look. Rosier, Dorcas knew, was a member of a group of Slytherin boys who’d
been terrorizing Hogwarts students for as long as she could remember, in one way or another. She
suppressed a shudder, remembering the sight of Mary Macdonald in the Hospital Wing the
previous year after Rosier and his cronies had attacked her. Evan Rosier, being a sixth year, wasn’t
the leader of the group, but once Avery and Mulciber graduated, Dorcas guessed that he would be.
He possessed the same fine-polished cruelty as Avery, and like Avery, Dorcas suspected, no guilt
or remorse for anything he did. Rosier, students of every house whispered, was the one who chose
the victims for their little gang. If you ever caught him watching you, they said, it was a good time
to start praying.

Dorcas pulled out her potion ingredients and tools, trying to ignore Rosier as she set about starting
a fire under her cauldron, and looked to her Advanced Potion-Making textbook for the instructions
for the potion they were brewing that day. For most of the lesson, they worked in parallel to each
other, and he didn’t bother her. It was only at the end of the lesson when Dorcas’ potion began to
emit potent fumes that made her so dizzy she almost fainted that she realized that he’d been slowly
increasing the heat of the flame under her potion so it burned and congealed.

Dorcas had lost a whole day after that, sleeping off the effects in her dormitory. She cursed Rosier,
who’d given her a subtle, evil smirk as he’d left that day in Potions, leaving her to vanish her potion
and find some excuse to give Professor Slughorn. She’d tried to catch him on his own later, hoping
to send a well-placed hex his way to show him that she wasn’t someone he wanted to mess with,
but she hadn’t had the chance. In lessons, the professors were always watching, and in the
corridors, there were prefects and other students as witnesses. She didn’t need detention on top of
everything else she had to contend with.

The next week, Dorcas had concentrated hard on her potion, keeping an eye on Rosier the whole
time, but at the last moment, something caused it to turn bright blue instead of red, and she’d
vanished it quickly before it’d the chance to explode all over the dungeon. She couldn’t figure out
how he’d done it, and again, he was gone in the blink of an eye, nothing but a smirk and a swish of
his blonde hair before he left the dungeon as the bell rang.

Determined to best him when they’d returned from break, Dorcas strode back into Potions in
January with the intent to do to him exactly what he’d been doing to her for the past weeks. But as
he’d appeared to look away and she extended her arm, attempting to drop an extra few drops of
bloodroot essence in his potion at the moment when his attention was diverted, his hand shot out to
grasp her wrist painfully. When she looked up, his ice-blue eyes were fixed on hers, a cruel smile
playing across his face.

“It won’t be that easy, blood traitor,” he said, his voice so low that no one else could hear them,
then he shoved her away from him. She fell off of her seat onto the ground, the bloodroot essence
spilling onto her arm and making her skin peel away, layer after layer, as if it was being devoured
by thousands of tiny, hungry insects. She fought not to scream, tears forming in her eyes, and soon
people were crowding all around her, their gasps and exclamations ringing in her ears.

Slughorn rushed over to administer the antidote, and when she’d been helped to her feet and he
asked her what’d happened, she simply said: “It was just an accident.”

Rosier’s sneer had imprinted in the back of her mind, and even as he’d made his face blank and
innocent, she would never forget it. She remembered his eyes, remembered the cruel look in them,
the coldness, and how she’d thought: There’s no soul behind those eyes.

It was at that moment that Dorcas realized she was out of her depth. She’d thought she’d seen a
challenge in Rosier, and risen to meet it, hating the idea of being bested by the cruel boy. But she’d
been wrong: it wasn’t a challenge that Rosier had given her, that first day he’d been seated next to
her in Potions: it’d been a threat, and she’d taken too long to have the good sense to be afraid.

From then on, it’d only gotten worse. Dorcas felt as if she was suddenly being haunted by Rosier,
his eyes coming at her from every angle, every nook and cranny of the castle. She’d catch him
looking at her during meals, during classes, and often when she turned her head in corridors and in
the library, he’d be there. Even in moments like this, where she was sitting safely in her bed with
her curtains drawn closed, she sometimes wondered whether he could see her. The hair on the back
of her neck would prickle, but when she looked around, she’d see nothing.

Dorcas knew that Rosier knew exactly what he was doing, torturing her like this. He was like a cat,
intent on playing with his food before he ate it. A monster, she thought savagely, thinking of
Rosier, with his short blonde hair, angled cheekbones, and sharp blue eyes. How can someone
show the world such a beautiful face, when there’s a demon lurking behind it? But she doubted
there were many people at Hogwarts, apart from perhaps the teachers, who didn’t know what he
truly was. Sometimes, Dorcas overheard girls whispering about him in bathrooms, or between
classes, and the word psychopath would pass between them, but quietly, as if he could hear them
through the walls themselves. Hogwarts had a long memory, and there had been stories circulating
about Evan Rosier for years, stories that no amount of beauty could overcome.

Perhaps this was also why Dorcas had preferred to stay up late for the past few weeks, avoiding
sleep until it was nipping at her heels. In the dark moments before she fell asleep, she couldn’t push
away the feeling of being watched, and in her dreams, she ran down long, dark corridors away from
sharp, blue eyes that came at her from every angle.

If Dorcas had been less stubborn, she might have told Professor Slughorn what Rosier had been
doing—in tampering with her Potions—but the unfortunate combination of fear and the desire to
not seem afraid had kept her in place, still working beside Rosier week after week in the dungeon.
He’d ceased his tricks with her potions, but this only made Dorcas more anxious, waiting and
wondering when the other shoe would drop.

Dorcas was again jerked out of her thoughts, and from her book, by the feeling of being watched.
She jerked open her hangings slightly, looking around on one side of her bed and then the other,
then sighed and let them slide closed again around her when she saw nothing. While a silencing
charm around her four-poster was practical, she sometimes hated the oppressive silence and the
knowledge that anything could be happening in the room around her, and that she wouldn’t know.
As if to illustrate her point, Callie, Lily’s cat, pushed her way in through the hangings and jumped
onto Dorcas’ bed with a soft meow.

Dorcas nearly screamed and clapped a hand to her beating heart as the cat began to burrow into her
blankets. “You scared me,” she scolded the little calico, trying to catch her breath as she ran a hand
across the cat’s silky fur. Callie let out another soft mew and tucked her tail over her nose, clearly
only interested in sleeping. Dorcas sighed and looked back down at her book. Maybe it was the
book that was spooking her, too. She didn’t really want to read about running through the woods,
hunting, or being hunted at the moment. She already felt as if she was being hunted, herself. She
closed it with a sharp snap.

Dorcas thought of Marlene, of her joy at winning the game, the smile that’d spread across her face,
and her arms around Dorcas that morning. She hadn’t told Marlene about Rosier, or about her fear.
She hadn’t told anyone. She wanted to, but she couldn’t. Every time she thought of Marlene, a
feeling of deep, painful longing welled up in her. It felt like another heart, beating raggedly and
painfully, just slightly off from the rhythm of her own. This was why she’d pulled away from
Marlene in the last few months. It was too painful.

Sometimes, her heart hurt for Marlene, too, who she knew was confused and hurt over Dorcas’
distance. In moments of madness, Dorcas thought about telling Marlene the truth about her feelings
for her. In even madder moments, she’d started to write it down on paper. Every day, you break my
heart, without doing anything wrong. I love you so much, and I can’t bear it.

Whenever Dorcas found herself doing this, however, it only took a few moments for her to come
back to her senses, and she’d quickly toss the paper into the fire, watching as it curled away to ash.
It was too dangerous, she told herself. Who knew what Marlene would say or do if she knew how
Dorcas felt about her? The best Dorcas could hope for was pity in Marlene’s eyes, and the worst
might mean that her best friend would look at her in disgust, and never speak to Dorcas again. She
would never risk that.

Dorcas wanted to scream at herself for having these thoughts. Everyone downstairs was having a
party, and Dorcas hadn’t even managed to use the time to get her coursework done, as she’d
planned. Instead, she’d dwelled on her miserable, fearful thoughts, going from one to another,
bouncing back and forth like a ping-pong ball. Dorcas winced to think of the day tomorrow, which
she’d have to spend hidden away in the library so that no one could distract her, working without
breaks. But she’d at last accepted that she wouldn’t be able to do anything more that night, so she
settled back into her bed.

Callie, Dorcas knew, would disappear from her whenever Lily came upstairs, but in the meantime,
she appreciated the cat’s warm fur beside her as she turned out her light. As she drifted off,
however, Marlene’s and Evan Rosier’s faces swam before her vision, and in her dreams, they both
chased her through dark woods, hunting her down, silent and tracking her with two sets of blue
eyes. When Dorcas stumbled and fell, she couldn’t tell which of them dealt her the killing blow
before she woke up, a scream caught in her throat.

....

The other shoe fell at the beginning of February, after two weeks of waiting. The prickling feeling
of being watched hadn’t ceased, but Dorcas had been beginning to wonder whether Rosier would
do anything more, or whether he’d gotten bored with her. That was until the drawings had started
arriving.

Dorcas had discovered the first one on a stormy night, when she had, as usual, studied late in the
library. The wind was powerful, and snow and ice hit the windows, making eerie noises that made
Dorcas start every couple of minutes, looking around. Sometimes she thought they sounded like
people beating their fists on the walls, and at others, like footsteps. At a certain point in the night,
she became too spooked to keep working, and she stood, closing her book and picking it up to put it
in her bag. It was only then that she noticed the piece of parchment on the table next to her.
Perhaps it’d slipped out of her notebook, she thought, as she picked it up.

Her blood ran cold, feeling much like the ice outside, as she unfolded it. On the page, sketched in
black ink, was a drawing of her from the waist up. It was clever and accurate, her hair falling softly
to her shoulders in its curls, her face in profile, her lips slightly parted. It was beautiful, a work of
fine art, but it terrified her. Her picture self was sitting at a table, but her eyes were turned towards
the windows in front of her, not down at the quill in her hand, her expression slightly fearful. Each
time she’d looked up, when there’d been a noise outside those windows that night, Dorcas knew
that this must have been the expression on her face. That also meant that this portrait had been
drawn that day, within the last few hours, as she sat in a part of the library she’d thought deserted.

The prickling feeling at the back of her neck returned, and she looked around. She saw no one, but
she knew who’d been there. She knew who’d drawn this, out of her line of vision, despite the fact
that it wasn’t signed. Quickly, she shoved her remaining books into her bag and left the library in
as close as a run as she could get away with, breaking into a real run when she left the silent room.
Her hurried feet took her up to Gryffindor Tower, where she had to wait for the Fat Lady to wake
up, her heart pounding, looking all around her. When she finally gave her the password, the Fat
Lady’s portrait opened for her, and she dashed into the common room.

The few people still in the common room looked up at her briefly, startled by her sudden
appearance. Dorcas didn’t know any of them well, but tried to look a bit calmer, and smiled at a
fifth-year girl who waved at her as she passed on her way to the girls’ staircase. When she reached
her dorm, she found that Mary and Lily were still up, though all the other girls were already in bed.
Mary appeared to be scribbling down the answers to their D.A.D.A. homework on a piece of
parchment, the book open in her lap as Lily braided her long, dark hair. They both waved to her as
she came in, and she smiled back, putting her bag down beside her bed with jerky, robotic motions
as she tried to keep her hands from shaking.

“You’re back earlier than usual,” Lily commented in a whisper to Dorcas, looking over at her. “Are
you finished with your work?”

Dorcas sent her a forced smile. “I’m never done,” she said. “But it was loud in the library, with the
storm.”

“I was in there earlier,” Mary confirmed, her pen pausing on the parchment, shivering slightly. “It
was a bit spooky with the wind rattling the windows.”

“Yeah,” Dorcas agreed, keeping her voice steady, drawing her books out and putting them on her
bedside. “Spooky.”

She took the drawing out of her bag, crumpling it in her fist as she hung her bag up on her bedpost,
then made her way over to the bathroom and locked the door behind her. Opening her hand, she
smoothed the drawing out again and looked at it, then looked up at her own face in the mirror. It
was perfect: no smudges in the ink or careless strokes. It was beautiful and grotesque, she thought,
without feeling or emotion, just like the boy who’d drawn it.

Dorcas tore it to shreds, then threw the pieces into the toilet, flushing it over and over until the last
pieces of the portrait had disappeared. Dorcas leaned on the counter, her palms resting on the cold
marble as she stared at herself in the mirror. She was no longer shaking, but she felt jittery inside,
as if her heart was beating irregularly, a nervous bird trapped in her ribcage, desperate to escape.

She tried to snap herself out of it, splashing her face with cold water and beginning to brush her
teeth almost angrily. She wouldn’t let herself be perturbed. She wouldn’t let Rosier’s mind games
get to her. She would finish her Transfiguration essay, then do her Muggle Studies reading, and go
to sleep. Dorcas had snuck into the dungeons a week ago to brew up a potion for dreamless sleep
for herself and had been taking it ever since to prevent the nightmares. She’d wake up the next
morning, rested, and hold her head high. It’d be alright.
But it wasn’t alright. The next morning, Dorcas dragged herself through classes, distracted,
knowing that Rosier was watching her, and hating that he’d be able to tell that she was afraid. She
didn’t look at him, didn’t meet his gaze, as she couldn’t bring herself to try and pretend. He was a
hunter, closing in on her, driven on by the smell of fear. She knew what he was doing and yet was
helpless to stop it. Control, she told herself desperately. You need to take back control. But, for the
life of her, she couldn’t figure out how.

Dorcas avoided this problem in the way that she’d grown used to avoiding all her other problems,
these days: she dove even further into her schoolwork. She abandoned the library and resumed her
old practice of finding secluded areas on the grounds and in the castle to study. Empty classrooms
were often ideal, except for the fact that she might be interrupted by students looking for a place to
snog. The roof of the Astronomy Tower was pleasant on sunnier days with a warming charm cast
around her, and she knew that if she was found up there, she could claim she was studying the sky,
as her Astronomy N.E.W.T. course was mostly self-guided that year. On the far side of the Great
Lake, she’d found a tree with a hollow at its base big enough for her to sit in so that no wind would
reach her and no one could see her unless they were standing directly in front of her. She’d even
discovered the secret of a room on the seventh floor of the castle, across from a tapestry of
Barnabas the Barmy, which would only appear when she walked past the stretch of blank wall
three times, thinking of what she needed.

Dorcas never went to one place too often, however, and these were only a few of the many places
she went to hide. Still, the drawings kept appearing. It seemed that Dorcas’ ability to find remote
locations to hide was outshone only by Evan Rosier’s talent for finding her, and his invisibility
when he did so. Whenever she discovered drawings depicting her in one of her hiding spots, she’d
abandon it and find another. She felt as if he was slowly taking more and more of the castle and its
grounds away from her, backing her into a corner. Her only question was what would happen when
he finally trapped her.

It wasn’t until March that she broke and finally went looking for him in return. She found him
walking alone in the dungeons after dark, and had her wand at his throat before he could move a
muscle to stop her. Instead of looking afraid, however, his face simply broke into a wide smile. It
looked sinister in the flickering light of the torches on the walls.

“What the hell is this?” Dorcas asked, shoving a piece of parchment into his face, her voice
cracking and eyes wide. She’d tried for anger in her tone, but it’d come out shakier than she liked.

“Brilliant penmanship,” Rosier said, smiling sinisterly down at her. “Who would that be,
Meadowes?”

“Don’t play games with me, Rosier,” she snarled at him. “Why did you give me a drawing of my
mother?” He let out a laugh, and Dorcas pressed her wand harder to his carotid artery. “I will kill
you if you go anywhere near—”

He grabbed her arm in one swift movement and brought it behind her back in less than a second,
his wand drawn and clenched in his other hand as he backed her against the opposite wall, sneering
down at her.

“Did you really think that I would let you get the better of me in a dark corridor?” he asked her, his
voice a malevolent whisper. “Did you really think that I didn’t hear you the moment you started
following me? It’s what I’ve been waiting for this whole time.”

Dorcas struggled to get free of his grip, but it was futile. He was almost a whole foot taller than
her, and stronger, too. She’d known that when she sought him out, she just hadn’t cared. Anger and
terror had driven her forward, logic out the window, and that was what Rosier had been counting
on.

“I was beginning to think that you were a boring target, after all,” Rosier said silkily, keeping his
painful hold on the wrist of her wand arm. “I always thought there was something more to you than
that timid little bird you show to the world. But when I tried to crack you open to get a glimpse of
the fire inside, you just got smaller. I guess it turns out that I wasn’t pressing hard enough.” With
the word pressing, he increased his pressure around her wrist, making her cry out, and his eyes
flashed with triumph, and something worse, almost like pleasure.

“Crack me open all you want,” Dorcas snarled. “Just leave my mother out of it.”

“Your mother’s an Auror, isn’t she?” Rosier asked softly, his smile spreading wider again as
Dorcas flinched. “Diana Meadowes,” he said slowly, as if savoring the name on his tongue.
“Appropriately named after the great huntress of Roman mythology, given her task for tracking
and hunting down dark wizards.”

His smirk slid off his face to reveal cold anger, and Dorcas felt as if she was seeing a glimpse of
the true demon underneath his smile. She thought of Lucifer, beautiful as an angel and terrible as
hell itself.

“It’s an insult to have a blood traitor carry the name of a Roman goddess,” he snarled. “As if your
family is anything like the rest of ours.”

Dorcas worked up a mouthful of saliva and spat it into his face. He flinched in disgust and his grip
loosened on her arm, just as she sent a jolt of electricity through him and her, causing him to let go
of her completely. He wiped his face, fuming now, with no trace of a smile anywhere.

“Wandless magic,” he snarled, though he almost sounded pleased. “I’ll know to expect tricks from
you in the future, blood traitor bitch.”

Dorcas pushed him away from her, pulling her arm from behind her back and pointing her wand at
him again, though not approaching. She’d learned her lesson: she knew now she couldn’t beat him
if they were in close proximity. Magic isn’t the only way to win a fight, her mother had once told
her. Or the only thing you should consider when engaged in one, for that matter. In her anger,
Dorcas had forgotten.

“Why did you draw a picture of my mother?” she demanded again, but her voice was louder this
time, more forceful. Desperation fought anger, but she had to keep her head. Regain control, she
told herself. Rosier paused, seeming to savor the look on her face, his pose relaxed, not even
bothering to raise his own wand. He’s not scared of me at all, Dorcas thought with another jolt. He
targeted me because he thought he’d find an opponent, and I’m still disappointing him. She shook
the thought away. She was dangerous, whether Rosier knew it or not.

“Your mother is on a mission right now, I believe,” Rosier said. “In the south of Wales, following
leads related to a Muggle family killed in their beds.”

“You couldn’t possibly know that,” Dorcas replied warily, another wave of terror crashing over
her.

“Of course,” he replied silkily. “She doesn’t even tell you where she’s going.”

He was right, but Dorcas wasn’t going to admit it. Her mother couldn’t even tell her father where
the Ministry was sending her: it was top secret information. Often, when Dorcas had been a child,
Diana would leave for days or even weeks at a time, and neither Thomas nor Dorcas would know
where she was going, or when she was returning. She’d always returned, however, with a bouquet
of wildflowers for Dorcas, and many stories of her adventures. Now, Dorcas knew that many of
these tales must have been fabricated, or at least altered, to protect Ministry secrets, and to protect
Dorcas.

“If that were true, how would you know where she was?” Dorcas asked, raising her chin, trying for
disdain. Rosier smirked, and it was a ghastly expression, worse than his smiles before, worse even
than his anger.

“My father told me,” he said simply. “He keeps an eye out for Aurors, you see.”

“Why?” Dorcas spat. “I suppose he’s the one who murdered the Muggle family in their beds,
then?”

“If he was, I would hardly tell you,” Rosier said, his lip curling. “But I’m curious, have you heard
from your mother recently?” His voice dripped with mock concern as his cold eyes searched hers
hungrily, as if he was eating up her fear. “I know there are a lot of cliffs on the coast of Wales,
perhaps she should watch her step, or she might take a tumble off one of them.”

Dorcas refused to look away, refused to flinch, even as her skin was buzzing and her blood had run
cold. “You’re bluffing,” she said, her wand still pointed at his heart, ready for his next move. “You
drew her from a picture in an old newspaper cutting.”

“Oh, I did,” he admitted easily, smiling again. “But that doesn’t mean what I’m saying isn’t true.
Perhaps you should get in contact with her. At least to say your goodbyes.”

He wasn’t playing with her anymore, Dorcas could see that. He’d struck, and he was standing back
to watch her crumble. She looked into his face, and knew, bluffing or not, he was capable of what
he was saying. Traitorous tears welled up in her eyes.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, her voice breaking. He seemed to consider for a moment,
examining her, then replied.

“I’m bored,” he said, shrugging, his voice expressionless once again. “And I wanted to see you
break.” Then he turned and walked away, leaving her to stand in the corridor alone, tears now
flowing down her cheeks.

It took Dorcas a while to feel as if she could move. When she did, she felt like her legs were made
of cement. It took a great deal of effort to put one foot in front of the other as she walked up the
stairs of the dungeon corridors toward the main floors of Hogwarts. When she was about to enter
the entrance hall, she heard footsteps and shrank back into the darkness. She wasn’t about to face
another of Rosier’s cronies, not now. It wasn’t a Slytherin who she saw appear around a corner,
however, but two Gryffindor prefects.

“Who’s there?” Lily asked, her tone commanding as she peered around the entrance hall. Her wand
tip emitted a circle of light, and when she directed it towards the dungeon staircase, it illuminated
Dorcas’ figure. Both Remus and Lily peered into the darkness for a moment, squinting at her, but it
was Remus who spoke first.

“Dorcas?” He asked, his tone perplexed. “Is that you?”

Dorcas narrowed her eyes in the bright beam of wandlight but stepped out of the staircase into the
entrance hall. She was tired, too tired to hide any longer.

“Dorcas!” Lily exclaimed, her voice full of surprise and confusion, hurrying towards her, Remus
on her heels. She doused her light, and only then could she see the tear tracks on Dorcas’ skin.

“Are you alright?” Lily asked, stopping just in front of her, her voice full of sudden concern. She
looked past Dorcas into the dungeons, her face turning to stone. “Did one of the Slytherins—”

Dorcas opened her mouth to speak, to make some excuse, but a traitorous sob broke free from her
throat instead, and she flung herself into Lily’s arms, crying as if her heart would break. Lily made
a small, startled exclamation when Dorcas first hugged her, then hugged her back tightly, rubbing
comforting circles into Dorcas’ back. Dorcas couldn’t see Remus, but she knew Lily well enough
to assume she was communicating silently with him behind her back, trying to figure out what to
do. Finally, Lily spoke softly into her ear, still running her hand soothingly across Dorcas’
shoulders.

“We’re going to get you back to the common room, alright?”

Dorcas gave a small nod and released Lily, tears still streaming down her face. She knew that she
couldn’t stop them if she tried. It’d all been too much for her to handle. She let Lily steer her up the
stairs to Gryffindor Tower, Remus on her other side, until they reached the Fat Lady portrait,
where they stopped. She turned to them, her eyes panicked again.

“I don’t want anyone to see me like this,” she said, more tears rolling down her cheeks. Remus
nodded.

“I’ll check to see if anyone’s in there,” he said. “It’s a Monday, and it’s late, but if there are, I’ll
clear them out somehow.” He gave Dorcas a brief smile, then gave the password to the Fat Lady,
who interrupted her worried clucking over Dorcas to open the portrait. He stood in the doorway,
looked around, then poked his head back out again. “There’s no one in there.”

Lily gave her an encouraging smile, and Dorcas, wiping her eyes, entered the common room.
Remus steered her to a seat by the crackling fire, and she sat down, pressing her sleeves to her
cheeks in a feeble attempt to keep the tears from coming. When Remus and Lily sat down beside
her, neither of them had to ask before Dorcas broke down and told them everything. When she got
to the part about that night, she took out the latest drawing from her pocket, which depicted a
woman with eyes the same shape as Dorcas’, the straight, serious set of her mouth somewhat
belying her round, friendly-looking face.

“I haven’t heard from her since I came back to Hogwarts this term,” Dorcas said, sniffling. “I just
assumed she was on a mission, and I don’t expect her to write back to me during that time, but it’s
been so long. She’s not usually gone this long.”

“I’m sure your mum is fine,” Remus said, his voice steady. “She’s an Auror. She knows how to
take care of herself.”

“But what if she’s not fine?” Dorcas asked, another sob overtaking her. “What if Evan Rosier’s
father has already gotten to her, and no one knows yet, not even the Ministry? What if she’s—” her
voice broke off, a strangled sound coming from her throat as she choked on the words. Lily put a
steadying hand on her arm and squeezed gently.

“It’s like Remus said, Dorcas,” she said. “Your mum knows how to take care of herself. She’s well
trained, and if she’s anything like you, I think Evan should be more worried about his father.”
Dorcas let out a slight, watery laugh, but her anxiety remained.

“Evan is a bully,” Lily continued, her tone hard. “He’s the kind of person that would set fire to an
ant under a magnifying glass, just to watch it twitch and die. Everyone in the school knows it.”
“And,” Remus added, his voice soft. “With Avery and Mulciber graduating soon, he’s trying to
solidify his position as the new leader of his little gang. I’d wager that he’s bragging to the other
Slytherins right now, telling them how he can break someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” Dorcas asked, looking up at him in confusion. Remus gave her a small smile.

“Someone strong,” he said. “Who belongs to a strong, important family resisting the Dark Arts.”

“I don’t feel very strong, lately,” Dorcas admitted.

“That’s probably why he targeted you, Dorcas,” Lily said, her voice gentle. “You’ve not been
yourself for a while, with all the stress you’re under.” Dorcas wiped her nose again with her sleeve,
her tears beginning to slow as she brought herself back to reality. Remus and Lily were right. Even
if Mr. Rosier had seen her mother in Wales, her mother was on an Auror mission. She’d be on high
alert for danger, and she could protect herself.

“What do I do?” she asked helplessly. “How do I know if his threat is real? Even if it’s not, he’ll
still be torturing me, and I can’t stop him. He’s stronger than me, and what happened last year to
Mary proved that the Slytherins are untouchable. They’ve got the governors on their side.”

“That’s true,” conceded Remus. “But consider who you’ve got on yours.” Dorcas looked up at him
and was surprised to see that he was actually smiling. Lily narrowed her eyes at him in confusion,
then realization seemed to dawn on her.

“The Marauders,” Lily said, letting out a long exhale and smiling, too. Dorcas didn’t have time to
dwell on the fact that it was highly unusual for Lily to smile when she was thinking about the
sixth-year Gryffindor boys’ little group; she was too busy protesting.

“I don’t want anyone else involved,” she said. “Especially not James.”

“Why not?” Lily asked, her brows furrowed in confusion. “As much as I hate to admit it, he’s got a
talent for causing trouble without being caught, which might be a valuable asset when it comes to
fighting someone like Evan.”

“I don’t want anyone fighting Rosier,” Dorcas said. “He’s twisted and evil, and he’s always got
something up his sleeve. James would only get himself into trouble, and he might get himself hurt.
I don’t want that. It’s not worth it.”

“So you’ll let yourself get hurt, but not him?” Lily asked testily.

“Yes,” Dorcas replied, nodding earnestly. “I can deal with my own messes.” Lily started to protest,
but Remus interrupted her.

“I don’t need the others,” he said, a light of scheming in his eyes. “I have an idea, and I should be
able to make it work with just the three of us and Mary if you don’t want any of the boys involved.
As long as you’re both willing to break a couple of rules.”

“Mary—” Dorcas began to protest, but Remus interrupted her again.

“Wait,” he said, holding up a hand. “Just let me tell you what I’m thinking before you say no.”
Dorcas sighed and began to listen.
 1977: Control, Part 2
Chapter Notes

cw: vomiting, homophobia

In the end, Dorcas had agreed to the plan. It was simple and elegant, and they’d decided they
needed only three days to prepare. However, as Remus planned and Lily recruited Mary and
gathered what they’d need, Dorcas’ job was mainly to wait. She felt restless, anxious, and not
altogether sure that she was doing the right thing. She didn’t think the plan would get anyone hurt
—not anyone she cared about, at least—but something could always go wrong.

The most Dorcas could do to try and ease the knot of worry in her stomach was to send her snowy
owl, Avellana, with a letter to her mother. She wasn’t sure if it would reach her, or if she’d be able
to respond, but Dorcas had to feel some ounce of control over the situation, even if it was fake.
Then, she waited and tried to work, though it was difficult. She stayed in her dormitory as much as
she could at Remus and Lily’s suggestion but put her foot down when they suggested that she have
someone accompany her everywhere.

“I have different classes from you both,” Dorcas pointed out. “And Rosier’s never approached me
in public, anyway.” They relented but made her promise to tell them if they received another note
or drawing from him. It wasn’t until Thursday, the very night that their plan was to take place,
when she received one again.

Dorcas didn’t notice the piece of parchment in her bag until she’d mounted the stairs to her
dormitory, after studying with Emmeline in the library for several hours. When she put her books
down on her bedside table, the piece of parchment floated onto her bed, face up for her to see it.
Her stomach turned as she sat down to examine it.

This time, it was a drawing of Marlene. She was laughing, and Dorcas marveled at the way that
Rosier had managed to make her eyes seem to twinkle, even within the drawing. As she looked at
the drawing, a mixture of fear, disgust, and longing rising up in her chest, Dorcas noticed that some
ink had bled through from the other side. There was something on the back. She turned the
parchment over, and read the slanted writing. The note read: Is this how you see her?

Dorcas’ head pounded. She could hear the blood rushing in her ears, and she suddenly felt dizzy.
She felt a surge of nausea rise up in her, and she rushed towards the bathroom, bending over and
throwing up into the toilet, heaving until everything in her stomach was gone. When the nausea
passed, she felt sick and sweaty, and flushed the contents away, rising to rinse her mouth in the
sink. She walked back towards her bed, where she’d left the portrait, and picked it up again,
studying the words.

They were innocently phrased: a question that could mean anything. However, Dorcas wasn’t fool
enough to mistake the threat in them, and she couldn’t lie to herself about their true meaning. When
she’d first seen the drawing of Marlene, she’d thought that Rosier had moved on to threatening her
best friend, as he’d threatened her mother. But no, it was Dorcas who was being threatened. And
she had everything to lose.

The sound of the door opening startled Dorcas out of her thoughts, and she turned to see Lily
entering, her book bag slung over her shoulder, looking tired. When she saw Dorcas, she gave her a
smile.

“I’ve got everything ready,” she said, walking over to her bed and putting her bag down. “Slughorn
was very curious when he saw that I was working on something outside of class hours, but I
distracted him by asking about his contacts in the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers. You
know how he loves to boast. He promised to put me in contact with Hector Dagworth-Granger,
who apparently can only hear out of an ear trumpet now, but who knows? Maybe he’ll actually be
useful when I’m looking for a job.”

“That sounds great,” Dorcas said, trying for a convincing smile, but Lily wasn’t fooled. She
narrowed her eyes in suspicion and strode over to Dorcas.

“What’s that?” Lily asked, sitting down next to Dorcas on the bed. Dorcas tried to push the
drawing out of sight, but Lily was too quick for her. She snatched the drawing out of Dorcas’ hands
and examined it closely.

“Another of Rosier’s drawings,” Dorcas explained feebly.

Lily’s eyes narrowed, furious, as she flipped the drawing over. Dorcas watched her, breath caught
in her chest, heart beating fast. Lily stared at the writing there for a few seconds, then crumpled the
paper in her hands. Pulling her wand out from the pocket of her cardigan, Lily set fire to the
drawing, levitating it in the air as she did so. Slowly, it turned to ash, which fell onto the bedspread,
and Lily vanished it with one deft flick of her wand. Lily turned to Dorcas, her fierce green eyes
meeting Dorcas’ startled brown ones.

“He can’t threaten you like this,” she said, her voice as hot as the fire she’d just conjured. “He’s a
weak, pathetic monster, and you’re strong. He can’t just walk the castle halls stalking and
attacking people and expect nothing in return. Starting tomorrow, it’s his time to be afraid, do you
hear me?”

“Lily,” Dorcas said, tears springing up in her eyes, a terrible taste lingering in her mouth from the
vomit. “You don’t understand. If he—”

“I will not let him hurt you,” Lily interrupted, clasping Dorcas’ hands in hers and staring intently
into her eyes as she did so. “Dorcas, please believe me when I say that. If I have to seal his mouth
shut with one of Sirius’ patented permanent sticking charms, if I have to tie his hands together and
throw him in the deepest dungeon to starve, I’ll do it. You deserve to feel safe.”

Dorcas nodded, unable to speak, and Lily hugged her. Somehow, in the split second of seeing the
drawing and the message, Lily had understood something that Dorcas had hoped no one would
ever know about her, and she’d had no words for Dorcas other than those in her defense. She
hadn’t even seemed surprised. Dorcas tried not to cry again, but the tears leaked from her eyes
anyway, falling onto Lily’s cardigan and into her dark red hair. She wasn’t sure if it was because of
the note, and the threat in it, or because of the shock of how quickly something else in her life had
changed. Lily pulled back after a moment, brushing away Dorcas’ tears with her fingers and
smiling at the other girl.

“I love you,” Lily said, her voice unwavering. “But it’s your decision, Dorcas. Do you still want to
do this?”

Dorcas hesitated for a moment, thinking about her mother, Marlene, and everyone involved in the
plan. Then she nodded. “I can’t be afraid of him forever,” she said.
And so, at midnight all four members of their motley team gathered in the common room. It was
empty again, luckily, as Dorcas didn’t relish the idea of Remus having to set off a Dungbomb to
clear the room, and they clustered near the fire, keeping their voices low.

“You got the potion?” Remus asked Lily. She nodded, producing a small vial from her pocket and
holding it out for him.

“It wasn’t too tricky to make,” she said. “Strengthening Solutions aren’t too difficult in general, of
course, but I did what you said, decreasing the amount of salamander blood and increasing the
powdered griffin claw, and decreasing the maturation time. I also added a stalk of rosemary, which
should help make the effects last longer.”

“Good,” Mary said, her face set. “The longer he suffers, the better.”

Mary had been easy for them to recruit, given her own history of torment at Evan Rosier’s hands.
It’d taken few words from Lily to get her on board, and she’d immediately rushed to Dorcas’ side,
her expression full of concern and cold rage, light brown eyes blazing. “He’ll pay for both of us,
now,” she’d said grimly.

“Are we really going to do this?” Dorcas asked, wringing her hands. “We’re really going topoison
another student? We could be expelled.”

“Poisoning is a strong word,” Remus said mildly, and Dorcas saw Mary concealing her grin.
“We’re giving him a small dose of a sublethal substance. It’s only going to make him mildly ill,
like the flu.”

Dorcas hesitated, then sighed. “How did you know about the alterations to the potion, anyway?”
They all knew Remus was no potioneer, so it was unusual that he would know the exact alterations
that it would take to turn the Strengthening Solution into what he’d humorously named the De-
Strengthening Solution.

Remus grinned sheepishly. “Don’t you remember what happened last year in Potions class when
we were brewing Strengthening Solutions?”

Lily bit back a laugh. “I remember that day,” Mary confirmed, grinning. “Slughorn had you write
an essay, didn’t he? Then he lectured the whole class on the importance of using the exact amounts
of ingredients called for.”

Remus smiled reminiscently, too. “Well, when I was researching the essay, I discovered that what
I’d made would have the opposite effect from the Strengthening Solution, making the person
weaker, not stronger. I thought that was useful information to store away.”

“I’m sure you did,” Lily said, trying and failing to look disapproving. “Sometimes I forget that
you’re the brains behind many of the Marauders’ plans.” Remus just smiled, and Mary snapped
them back to the task at hand.

“So, the potion works when applied to his skin, too?”

“It should,” Remus said. “Drinking it is only one way to see the effects.”

“And what if he wakes when you’re dosing him with it?” Dorcas asked, her eyebrows raised. “For
that matter, how are you planning on getting into the Slytherin dormitory at all?”

“Leave that to me,” Remus said. “I won’t say much, as James, Sirius, and Peter would consider it
high treason to reveal any of our secret ways of getting around the castle.”
Dorcas rolled her eyes. She’d already guessed that Remus was planning to use James’ invisibility
cloak, which she assumed was being borrowed without its owner’s knowledge, but she couldn’t
begin to guess how he would’ve found out the password to the Slytherin common room. However,
she also knew that the Marauders had broken in there before, so who was she to doubt his
methods? Perhaps he just planned to stand there, muttering offensive words until one of them
succeeded in opening the door. She suppressed a snort.

“Have you got the drawing, Mary?” Lily asked her, and Mary smiled, producing a piece of
parchment from her cloak and handing it over.

“It took me a while to do,” she admitted, shivering slightly. “It’s like Rosier has eyes on the back
of his head. He always seemed to know when I was watching him.”

“Perhaps it’s all the time he spends stalking other people,” Lily said in disgust, holding up the
drawing to the firelight. The portrait depicted Rosier’s face, eyes closed, cheek against a pillow.
This had been why they’d needed Mary: she was the artist of the group. Remus had said that he’d
immediately thought of Sirius, who was good at drawing, but because Dorcas didn’t want to
involve any of the other boys, his next option had been Mary. She’d even deigned to use a quill and
ink to draw it, mimicking Rosier’s style.

“You couldn’t have drawn him drooling?” Lily asked, shooting Mary a grin. Mary gave her a
disbelieving look.

“You think Rosier drools in his sleep?” she asked incredulously. “I had trouble picturing him
sleeping at all. If Remus goes in there and finds him hanging upside down from a ledge, sleeping
like a bat, I wouldn’t be shocked.”

Remus smiled and held out his hand for the drawing, but Dorcas hesitated. “Wait,” she said,
reaching her hand out for it. Lily gave it to her, her brow furrowed.

“Dorcas, if you’ve changed your mind—” Remus started, but Dorcas shook her head, then flipped
the drawing over, placing it on the table in front of them. She grabbed a quill and ink that’d been
left there by someone, then wrote six words on the back of the parchment, slowly and carefully:
This is how I see you. It was time for him to be afraid. Dorcas blew on the ink until it dried, then
handed it to Remus. He only glanced briefly at the words, but made no comment, stowing the
parchment away in his pocket and standing up.

“I’m guessing most people will be asleep by now,” Remus said, looking over at the clock, which
showed the time as almost half past midnight. “I’m off. You needn’t wait for me.” He looked
around at the stubborn faces of the three girls, clearly not going anywhere, and smiled. “Well, wish
me luck.”

They all did, watching anxiously as he exited the portrait hole. Dorcas thought she saw the swish of
a cloak appearing from beneath his sweater as he left, then the door closed and they were left to
wait. Lily, Mary, and Dorcas didn’t speak much as they sat their vigil, watching the time tick by on
the clock. After thirty minutes had gone by, Dorcas stood and began to pace around the common
room, her nerves on edge, the adrenaline coursing through her body battling with her exhaustion.
At one-fifteen, Mary stood.

“Dorcas, are you sure you don’t want to go to bed? You were up last night until—” She broke off,
and they all looked towards the portrait hole as it swung open, Remus appearing again. They heard
the fading sound of the Fat Lady telling him off as the portrait swung shut, and he grinned at them.

“You didn’t get caught, did you?” Dorcas asked, her hands clasped in front of her chest, nails
digging into her skin.

“Would he be smiling if he had?” Lily asked, grinning back at Remus. Mary shrugged.

“Hard to know,” she said, but her small face had broken into a tentative smile, too.

“It all went according to plan,” Remus said, walking over and slumping into the couch by the fire
again. “I got in no problem, and Rosier was fast asleep, along with everyone in his dorm. I put the
parchment on his night table and applied the potion to his skin. I also put it in his water glass for
good measure, along with his shampoo and toothpaste. With any luck, low levels of the potion will
be in his system for a good month or longer.”

Lily let out a snort of mirth, and Dorcas’ lips turned up at the corners, too. It was Mary who began
to properly laugh, and soon enough, they were all in hysterics, trying to keep their laughter quiet so
as not to wake those above. Mary wiped tears of mirth away from her face.

“I know he won’t know I had a hand in this,” she said, a spectacular smile stretching across her
face, her eyes lit up with glee. “But this feels so good. It’s like a little bit of justice, after all this
time. If this is what it feels like to be a Marauder, I think I’d like to join.”

“Vigilante justice does give a certain satisfaction,” Lily admitted, smiling. “Though I’m not sure
it’s my calling.”

Remus laughed. “There’s no hiding that you’re a natural at it, Lily,” he said. “If James or Sirius
ever find out about this, they’ll never let you hear the end.”

“You can’t tell them, though,” Dorcas said, the smile sliding off her face. “No one can know about
this except the four of us.”

Remus and Mary looked taken aback, but Lily just frowned at her. “Not even Marlene?” Mary
asked, confused. “I mean, once this is over, he won’t bother you anymore, Dee, and then—”

“Especially not Marlene,” Dorcas interrupted, clenching her jaw. She met Lily’s gaze briefly and
knew she didn’t mistake the sadness in the other girls’ eyes. “Please promise not to say anything,”
Dorcas pleaded with them all. One by one, they nodded, though reluctantly.

“You and Emmeline,” Mary said, shaking her head, annoyance battling sadness in her expression.
“Everybody needs help sometimes, Dorcas.”

“And I got it, from all of you,” Dorcas said, giving them a smile. “Thank you.”

“You know he’ll confront you,” Remus said, his smile gone as he looked at her, his blue eyes
intent. “That’s the part none of us can help you with. You have to be the one to show him, once and
for all, that you’ve won.”

Dorcas nodded, swallowing slightly, then lifted her chin. “I’ll be ready for him,” she promised.

....

The next morning, Dorcas walked down to breakfast flanked by Lily and Mary, and sat down at
the Gryffindor table. They all looked over to the Slytherins when they entered the hall, and were
surprised to see that Rosier wasn’t there yet. He was usually up early, and they all raised their
eyebrows at each other and smiled as they sat down.

Dorcas began to serve herself food, feeling properly hungry for the first time in weeks. When she
saw the post owls flying down to deliver mail, she looked up eagerly, then huffed out a sigh of
disappointment when she only saw her father’s grey owl, Eustace, come to meet her. Still, she fed
the bird some of her bacon and stroked his soft feathers as she unfolded the letter. She gasped as
she saw her mother’s handwriting, and scanned the letter quickly, eagerly drinking in every word.

After she was finished, she looked up to find Mary and Lily staring at her, both of their eyes wide
and worried as they took in hers, which were brimming with tears. Dorcas blinked the tears away
and smiled.

“My mum’s alright,” she said, and they both let out heavy sighs of relief. “She was never in
Wales.”

“So it was all a trick!” Mary exclaimed, beaming at her. “Rosier has nothing over you after all, and
after today, he won’t dare go near you again.”

Dorcas smiled, too, feeling wave after wave of relief flow through her as she looked down at the
letter. Her eyes caught on something behind them, however, and she looked past Mary’s shoulder
to see Evan Rosier finally entering the hall. He looked terrible, with dark circles under his eyes, his
skin paler than usual, and his pace slower.

Just before he reached the Slytherin table, he tensed, as if sensing her gaze, and looked over to
where Dorcas, Lily, and Mary were all staring at him. He met Dorcas’ gaze with a furious, cold
look, but no rush of fear went through Dorcas this time. She quirked the corner of her mouth up in
a half-smile, and he looked away, sitting with his friends. Lily and Mary turned back to Dorcas,
both beaming.

“He looks like death warmed up,” Mary said, her voice low and triumphant. “Remus was right,
that potion really did a number on him. Good job, Lily!”

Lily grinned and gave Mary a subtle high five beneath the table. The three girls looked down the
Gryffindor table for Remus and spotted him sitting with the other Marauders. He looked around at
them and gave them a sly grin, clearly having seen their handiwork, too.

“He might not even confront you, Dorcas,” Mary said. “He might not have the guts.”

“He will,” Dorcas said, looking back over at Rosier, whose expression looked thunderous as he sat
with the other Slytherin boys, staring down at his plate, his jaw clenched. “But I’m not going to
wait for it to happen.”

They had Potions that morning, and the three girls walked together into the dungeons, Dorcas
bracing herself for a long two hours sitting next to an irate and sickly Evan Rosier. When she
arrived in the dungeon, however, Slughorn cleared his throat, calling for attention before they
could take their seats.

“I have decided to rearrange you all once again,” he said jovially, giving them a little wink. “In the
spirit of getting you to work with new people, of course. We should never get too comfortable with
what is familiar.” As he began to read their names, pointing to where each student was to sit again,
Dorcas looked around at Lily, who grinned at her.

“You did this?” Dorcas asked, her heart swelling with gratitude. Lily shrugged, smiling.

“I didn’t just talk to him about his connections in the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers
when I saw him yesterday,” she said. “I suggested that because Potter and I have been studying for
Potions together, being seated together in class might be a good way for me to continue helping
him. It only took a bit of gentle prodding for him to get the idea of changing everyone else’s seats,
too.”

“You volunteered to sit next to James...for me?” Dorcas asked, incredulous and touched at the
gesture. Lily only shrugged.

“I’d take him over Severus any day of the week,” she said. “And I couldn’t leave you sitting next
to Evan.”

“Lily Evans,” Slughorn called, pointing to a table in the second row, and Dorcas mouthed “thank
you,” as Lily went off to sit next to James, who seemed to be trying not to look too pleased. In the
end, Dorcas was seated between George Abbott, a Hufflepuff, and Jacqueline Burke, a Slytherin
girl who usually kept entirely to herself. Dorcas sighed a breath of relief as she sat down, looking
forward to the lesson for the first time in a long time and ignoring Evan Rosier, whose gaze she
could feel on the back of her head. He was sitting beside Sirius, however, near the back of the
dungeon, and Dorcas knew he could do nothing to her from there.

Despite Dorcas’ lack of sleep, she felt more focused than ever during class that day, feeling
comforted by the familiar scent of the Regerminating Potion that she was brewing. It was one of
her favorite potions that her father brewed at home, and she remembered leaning over the cauldron
as a five-year-old, handing him ingredients, stirring when he let her, and dancing in excitement as
the potion began to change color from blue to gold. She left the dungeon with a smile on her face,
basking in Slughorn’s praise for her excellent potion. In Herbology, they used their potions on a
dying Flutterby bush, and Dorcas smiled as it began to bloom again, its petals opening wide
towards the light above.

After lunch was Defense Against the Dark Arts, where Dorcas felt Rosier’s gaze on her again.
There was a shift in the look he gave her, however, that she’d noticed that day. While before it’d
been cold and calculating, almost amused, now it was significantly angrier. They had destabilized
him, she realized. He’d set out to crack her open, and he’d been cracked open in return, the
armored exterior falling and revealing the monster underneath. Still, the monster was easier to deal
with when it wasn’t pretending to be a man. In their spell practice that day, she managed to best
James in a duel, leaving him on the floor with a well-placed knockback jinx, and she smiled as she
helped him to his feet. It reminded her what she was capable of, and gave her the bravery to meet
Rosier.

Dorcas knew as soon as the bell rang that signaled that their D.A.D.A. lesson was over that Rosier
would be after her. Instead of fleeing from him, however, Dorcas had decided that morning that she
wanted this encounter to be on her terms. She waited to hear his footsteps behind her, then began to
mount the stairs. She wouldn’t be trapped in the dungeons once again, as that was his turf. She
climbed the stairs with her classmates, then broke off from them on the third-floor landing, saying
goodbye to Lily and Mary as the two gave her meaningful looks. She smiled at them, then climbed
higher, away from the path leading towards the Gryffindor dormitories and towards the Astronomy
Tower instead. When she reached the seventh floor, she stopped and stepped into the shadows next
to a suit of armor, waiting.

As soon as she stopped, she could hear the sounds of his footsteps on the stone again, following
her. He was louder than usual, his steps heavier and his breathing more labored. She smirked at the
sound. This time, she was the hunter, disguising her sounds, and he the prey, being led into a trap.
She marveled at the effects of the De-Strengthening Solution that Lily had concocted; it’d broken
his sense of predatory ease, and broken it hard. She waited until he was almost upon her, then
stepped out of the shadows, directly into his path. He stopped, looking startled and a bit wary.
“Intercepting my mail?” she asked, her eyebrows raised, holding up her letter for him to see.
“Clever, but not clever enough.” Rosier’s blue eyes fixed on it, and a flash of anger flew across his
face, quickly replaced by indifference.

“What’s that?”

“A letter from my mother,” Dorcas replied, her voice cool. “It just arrived this morning. She’s
asking me why I’m not responding to her letters. She borrowed my father’s owl, you see, because
she was worried that hers was being unreliable. Hecate is old.”

Rosier just glared at her, the whites of his eyes looking slightly yellow, his face unnaturally pale.
He looked pained, weak, and Dorcas smiled. It was about time he knew how it felt.

“My mother was never in Wales,” she said, her voice light, moving slowly closer to him. “You
intercepted her owl and my letters to her, and then you made it up, because the truth is, you have
no cards to play. You wanted a reaction because you were worried you weren’t scaring me at all.
You couldn’t brag to your mates and assert your dominance in your little Death Eater group if it
seemed like your methods were falling flat.”

He said nothing, just stood there, his jaw clenched, glaring down at her, his silence confirming her
theory. She laughed, now only a foot away, looking up at him, feeling completely unthreatened at
the moment.

“And now,” she said, humor ringing through her voice. “You look like one good hard breeze could
take you down, and you know what it feels like to be weak, and utterly powerless.”

“What did you do to me?” Rosier asked, his voice cold, but Dorcas thought she could hear a note
of fear in it. She let out another short laugh.

“Nothing you won’t recover from, in time,” she said. “But not if you come close to me or anyone I
love ever again.” Then, she brought her knee up savagely, landing the blow right between his legs,
and he fell to the floor, groaning. She smiled in satisfaction, then turned to go.

“Wait,” Rosier gasped, his voice carrying after her.

“What, Rosier?” Dorcas asked, turning to him, her face a mask of indifference. She felt a thrill of
power flow through her as he glared up at her, clearly clinging to straws of control over her. “You
don’t have any power over me, anymore,” she said. “You have nothing.”

“I know what you are, blood traitor,” Rosier snarled at her from the ground, panting slightly. “I
watched you for weeks, remember? I saw the way you look at McKinnon, what you want from
her.” He spat out the words, disgust coloring his voice. It was amazing, Dorcas thought, how he
could be lying on the floor at her feet and still try to get the upper hand. “I could tell the whole
school. I’m not sure even the blood traitors and the Mudbloods would let you hang around with
them then.”

Dorcas glared back at him, silent for a moment, then she replied, her face still indifferent,
unmoved. “I know you too, now,” she replied, her voice as cold as his. “And I’m not afraid. Tell
everyone if you like. No one who matters to me cares about anything that you say.”

Then she turned and walked away, back the way she’d come, this time leaving him to pick up the
pieces of his shattered control. Adrenaline rushed through her veins as she walked away, and she
had the urge to run, though not from him. She knew there was a possibility he would make good on
his promise. She’d called his bluff, and there was always risk in that. But perhaps, she thought, the
fear of something was worse than the actual thing itself. She hoped that that would be the case for
her.

....

When Dorcas arrived back in the common room, she found it full of people, including many of her
friends. Part of her longed to join them in the conversation around James and Sirius, who were
arguing animatedly, Marlene laughing next to them. The other part wanted to hide away, bury her
face in her hands and never come out. She was exhausted, utterly and completely, and the
exhaustion won.

When she arrived in her dormitory, she found it empty but for Lily, who was pulling a sweater over
her head, clearly changing out of her uniform and into her normal clothes. As Lily looked over to
see who’d come in, her face shifted into a look of concern.

“Did you talk to him?” she asked immediately, turning to Dorcas as she sat heavily on her bed and
began to take off her shoes. Dorcas nodded slowly, and Lily’s eyes widened. “What happened? Are
you alright?” Dorcas nodded again, taking a deep breath.

“I’m alright,” she said. “It was fine. I think he’s going to leave me alone, now. We won.”

“That’s good,” Lily said, the worry in her voice dissolving. “That’s great! Dorcas, I knew you
could do it.”

Dorcas smiled tiredly, looking up at her friend. “I kicked him in the crotch,” she said, and Lily let
out a whoop of delight.

“Brilliant!” she exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “How do you feel?”

“I…” Dorcas trailed off, her voice failing her. She knew she should feel triumphant, jubilant, and
yet… She tried again. “I feel—” Her words stopped, a small choking noise coming from her throat.
No, she thought, I won’t let myself cry, not now that everything’s alright again. But she was unable
to stop the sob that tore free from her unwilling mouth, and then she dissolved into tears.

“Oh, Dorcas,” Lily said, her voice gentle, sitting down next to her on the bed. Dorcas hated the fact
that she’d cried into Lily’s shoulder three times in the last four days, but she couldn’t help it. She
felt as if she’d been broken down, and now there was nothing between her and the flood of tears
that had been waiting for months. What did she have to cry about, she asked herself. Her mother
was safe. Rosier was no longer a threat to her. Things should go back to normal. But she didn’t
want to go back to normal, at least not how it’d been over the course of her sixth year so far. She
wanted—

“Marlene,” Dorcas sobbed into Lily’s shoulder, her nose running so that her voice sounded nasally
and full of tears. “Marlene.”

She cried harder as she said her best friend’s name, as if it’d opened up a deep wound in her which
was now gushing blood, one which only Marlene’s presence could heal. Lily rubbed her back
soothingly, making soft sounds of comfort. Though Lily knew now exactly what Dorcas felt for
Marlene, she’d still said nothing. Dorcas got the sense that she was waiting to see if Dorcas would
bring it up. Dorcas wasn’t sure if she ever would, but she was grateful, at least, that Lily hadn’t
looked at her any differently in the past twenty-four hours as she’d done for the last six years.

“Do you want me to get Marlene?” Lily asked softly, still rubbing circles into Dorcas’ back.
Dorcas wasn’t sure if it was wise, but she nodded fervently into Lily’s shoulder, tears still
streaming down her cheeks. Lily gently disengaged from her, standing up and smiling sadly down
at her friend. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll be right back, okay?” Dorcas nodded, unable to speak, and as
Lily left, Dorcas climbed under her covers, feeling like a child, sobs still racking her body.

Only a minute later, Dorcas heard the door opening again, and Marlene’s familiar, soft footfalls on
the floor. She heard Marlene close the door carefully behind her, and realized that Lily must have
remained downstairs to give them some privacy. She wondered if she would ever stop feeling
indebted to the red-haired girl.

“Dorcas?” Marlene’s tentative voice asked, and Dorcas, despite herself, started crying even harder
at the sound of her voice. Marlene came around Dorcas’ bed to where the hangings were open, and
her blue eyes widened as she saw Dorcas, curled up, crying into her pillow. “Oh, Dee,” she said,
her voice gentle, and she climbed in next to Dorcas, sliding under the covers and putting her arms
around her. “Are you alright? Lily said you needed me.”

Dorcas clung to Marlene, burying her face into the crook of the other girl’s neck. “No,” Dorcas
said, her voice muffled by Marlene’s turtleneck sweater and her own tears. “I’m not alright. I’ve
missed you so much.”

At her words, Marlene’s arms tightened around Dorcas, and Dorcas thought she heard a soft sob
escape the other girl’s lips, too. “I’ve missed you, too,” Marlene replied quietly.

It took a while for Dorcas’ tears to slow, but when they did, Dorcas drew back from Marlene so
that she could look at her, and began to speak. She told Marlene about everything that’d happened
with Rosier—except, of course, his final drawing—and the past few days of fear and agony over
her mother’s safety. Then, she told her about the plan that she, Remus, Lily, and Mary had carried
out. Marlene was silent through most of it, but Dorcas could see the anger on her face, and feel it
coming off her. When Dorcas had finished, Marlene’s expression looked conflicted.

“He’s suffering right now, right?” she asked as if she couldn’t help herself. Dorcas gave her a
watery smile.

“Very much so,” she said. “Lily knows her potions.” Marlene’s angry expression twitched for a
moment, and a hint of mirth showed on her face before dissolving into hurt.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just couldn’t,” Dorcas admitted, a fresh wave of tears rising up in her. “I don’t know why, it’s
just...these last few months, you’ve been off with Sirius, and I was afraid—I was afraid that you
were going to leave me behind.” She felt ashamed to say even that, scared that Marlene might at
any moment recoil from her. She looked into Marlene’s blue eyes and found that they were filled
with tears, now, too.

“I love you, do you understand that?” Marlene asked almost fiercely, though her tone was
somewhat compromised as she sniffed and wiped at her nose, which was running from her tears. “I
would never, ever, leave you behind.” Tears ran down her cheeks, and she reached out to clasp
Dorcas’ hands in hers. “I thought you were angry with me,” Marlene admitted. “I thought that you
might...well, that you might think that what I’m doing with Sirius is wrong...that I’m...a slag.”

Dorcas stared at her, caught completely off guard. She clutched Marlene’s hands tighter in hers,
shaking her head. “I would never judge you,” she said. “Not ever. I love you, too.”

Marlene nodded, sniffling again, her wet, blonde eyelashes brushing her cheeks as she blinked the
tears away. “I’m sorry,” Dorcas whispered. “I shouldn’t have been so cold.”
“And I shouldn’t have been so distracted,” Marlene said, guilt coloring her voice as she looked up
at Dorcas. “I should’ve been here for you when you needed me.”

Marlene was so close, her head on the other end of the pillow from Dorcas’. So close, but so far
away. Dorcas’ gaze flicked unwillingly down to Marlene’s pink lips for half a second, then back up
to her blue eyes. The foot of space that separated their lips was an infinity, one which Dorcas
thought she’d never be able to cross.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Dorcas replied, her heart aching as she said it, as she
knew it was the truth. It wasn’t Marlene’s fault that Dorcas was in love with her, and that it broke
her heart to see her with someone else. But having Marlene there, being close to her again, made
everything feel much more bearable. So she moved closer to her again, burying her face in
Marlene’s shoulder, and let the tears seep into her sweater as Marlene did the same. Dorcas wasn’t
sure how long they lay like that, in each other’s arms, but it felt like a tonic, like it was healing
something deep inside of both girls, and they didn’t let go.

Eventually, Dorcas must have stopped crying and fallen asleep. When she woke, her hangings were
closed, but Marlene was still there, on her back with her arms around Dorcas, who was curled to
her side, her head resting on the taller girl’s shoulder. Sleepily, Dorcas wished that this moment
would last forever, that Marlene would never let go. She knew, however, that the bubble would
have to pop eventually, but at that moment, she closed her eyes again and relaxed into Marlene’s
embrace, savoring it while it lasted.
 1977: Shifting Tides

“Every time I think that they can’t give us any more work, I’m proven wrong,” Lily groaned.

Dorcas and Marlene, who were sitting across from her in the Gryffindor common room, studying,
looked up at her and grinned. Marlene was curled into a rather peculiar position, her feet dangling
over the side of her armchair as she read her Transfiguration textbook. Every so often, Marlene
would absentmindedly kick her feet, nudging Dorcas, in the chair next to hers, and Dorcas would
good-naturedly bat her away.

“Well, I’m not complaining,” Dorcas said. “Since I dropped Astronomy, my workload has been
much lighter.”

“You’re still taking seven N.E.W.T.s,” Lily pointed out, giving her an incredulous look. “How is
that reasonable?”

Dorcas laughed. “You can only expect me to change so much,” she said. “Anyway, I like studying,
but I also like having a life. I do miss Astronomy, though. It was hard to let it go.”

“The stars aren’t going anywhere, Dee,” Marlene pointed out, poking her friend lightly with one of
her sock-clad feet again.

The two girls shared a smile, and Lily was sure that they were both thinking of some private
recollection from their childhood. She tried not to smile too widely at this. Lily knew she shouldn’t
be so invested in the relationship between the two girls, because as far as she knew, Marlene wasn’t
even interested in other witches, but she couldn’t help it. In the past months, Lily had seen Dorcas
perk up like a plant returned to the sun after too long in darkness, and she didn’t think that it was all
because of her lessened courseload, or the absence of Evan Rosier’s harassment of her.

It wasn’t just Dorcas who seemed happier, either: both girls seemed desperate for one another’s
company. As the weather became warmer, Lily often found both their beds empty when she rose in
the mornings and knew that they must be walking together around the lake, arms wrapped around
each other, as she’d seen them do in previous years. Late in the evenings, Lily could hear the
muffled sounds of them talking from one of their four-poster beds, the hangings drawn tightly shut.
Needless to say, Lily didn’t resent their renewed closeness in the slightest, even if it meant she saw
a bit less of Dorcas. Lily had taken to spending time with Mary in the months when Dorcas had
isolated herself from the rest, anyway, and she was enjoying her new closeness with the other
Muggle-born girl.

“Well, I have Care of Magical Creatures in ten minutes, so I should go,” Dorcas said, standing up
and swinging her bag over her shoulder. “We’re learning to handle Jackalopes today, and I’m
partnered with Mary. She’s so excited that if I’m late she might try to impale me on its antlers.”

Marlene and Lily both laughed, and Lily rose to her feet, too. “I’ve got to go, too,” she said. “I’m
going to go to the Owlery to send a letter to my parents. It’s been a while since I last heard from
them.”

“I’m sorry that you can’t use Avellana,” Dorcas said. “I just sent her off to my mum and dad with a
letter. They’ve been writing to me constantly since I told them about Rosier intercepting my mail.”

“That’s understandable,” Lily said. “I’m glad you told them about it.”

“I sort of had to,” Dorcas said, shrugging. “What with the frantic letter I sent my mum before I got
her letter, asking if she was alright. My mum was ready to storm up here, she was so angry. My
dad managed to calm her down, though. Both of them said that they wished I’d told them before,
and gotten professors involved, but my dad said that there was no point in yelling at people if I’d
already sorted it, even if he didn’t approve wholeheartedly of how I did it.”

“I’m sure Thomas was secretly impressed,” Marlene said, grinning. “He had to put on his
responsible adult hat, but I bet he started researching variations of the Strengthening Solution as
soon as he got your letter.”

“That’s probably true,” Dorcas conceded, smiling. “Okay, I really have to dash now, though. See
you both later!” She scampered out of the portrait hole, Lily following with a more leisurely pace.
She’d only made it a few yards, however, when a voice sounded behind her.

“Hey, Lily, wait up!” Lily turned to find Marlene jogging to catch up with her. She stopped, and
the blonde girl stopped next to her, looking awkward. “Is it alright if I walk with you?”

“Sure,” Lily said, only slightly surprised. Marlene gave her a small, shifty smile, and they set off
together toward the Owlery. It took several long moments of silence, during which the only sound
was that of their footsteps, for Marlene to speak, but Lily didn’t rush her. She thought she knew
what was coming, but she also knew Marlene well enough to know that it must be taking her a
stupendous effort to say it.

In the past few months, things had improved drastically between Marlene and Lily. Of course,
they’d been slowly inching their way towards civility—if not friendship—for the past couple of
years, but recently the crawl had become a sprint, and Lily found that she was grateful for it. She
supposed that Marlene was being more civil to her because of how Lily had helped Dorcas in
March, but the two girls hadn’t spoken about it. She sometimes saw Marlene looking at her shiftily,
then looking away again, as if she were trying to speak to her, but failing to muster up the courage.
Or, more likely, she was failing to shelve her pride for long enough to do so. Perhaps now she’d
finally steeled herself for the conversation.

“I wanted to talk to you because—well,” Marlene started, sounding embarrassed. Lily didn’t need
to look sideways to know that Marlene’s cheeks were flaming. “I suppose I wanted to say thank
you, for what you did for Dee. When I wasn’t there for her, you were. And, uh—thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Lily responded evenly. “I did it for Dorcas.”

“I know,” Marlene said, her fingers absentmindedly fiddling with her sleeves. “But I do need to
thank you. Because I’m grateful. Uh, you did something good, so I’m thanking you because that’s
what people do. Just say you’re welcome and put me out of my misery, please?”

Lily laughed. She couldn’t help herself. “You’re not spectacular at showing gratitude, are you,
Marlene?”

“Not when it comes to you,” Marlene said slightly bitterly, then winced. “Sorry, that came out
wrong.”

“No use beating around the bush,” Lily replied, shrugging. “It’s no secret that we haven’t had the
easiest relationship over the years. I know that you didn’t like me in our first couple of years of
Hogwarts, and I didn’t like you much, either.” Marlene let out a grunt that probably meant assent.
Lily forced herself not to laugh again.

“I hope we’re past that, though,” she continued. “I didn’t like you back then because, well...you
were right about a lot of things that I didn’t want you to be, about Severus, I mean.”
“Yeah, I was,” Marlene said, reverting back to her usual overconfident style. Then she sighed and
conceded. “But I could’ve been nicer to you about it. I was too wrapped up in myself to think about
what it must’ve been like for you. I should’ve been more understanding, instead of jumping to
conclusions, judging you, and writing you off. That wasn’t fair of me.”

“To be fair, I did a similar thing with you,” Lily said. “But we were just kids back then, and both
too headstrong to really get along.”

“I suppose we can find common ground in the fact that we were both terribly annoying pre-teens,”
Marlene said, huffing out a laugh. “How Dorcas put up with either of us is a miracle.”

Lily laughed, too. It was funny how easy it was to talk to Marlene, even though she could count on
one hand the number of times they’d spoken one-on-one over the course of their time at Hogwarts.

“Can we start over, then?” Lily asked after they’d both stopped laughing.

Marlene seemed to hesitate, then said: “I don’t believe in starting over. But I’d like to move
forward with no ill will between us from this point on, if that’s alright with you.”

“Sounds good,” Lily agreed. “It’s better for Dorcas, too, us being friendly.”

“She’s been bothering me about it for years,” Marlene said, rolling her eyes affectionately. Lily
smiled, and a more comfortable silence fell between them as they began to mount the Owlery steps.

“I wasn’t trying to replace you, you know, with Dorcas,” Lily added, after a moment. “You’ll
always be something to her that I can never touch, no matter who she told about Rosier or any of
the rest of it.”

Marlene cast her a surreptitious look, hesitated, then blurted out: “Why do you think she didn’t tell
me?” It sounded as if the question had been nagging at her for a long time, despite whatever
assurances Dorcas had given her.

Lily paused for a long moment, trying to figure out how best to reply. She thought she knew why
Dorcas didn’t tell Marlene about Rosier, and it was a complicated reason full of heartbreak over
Sirius and Marlene, none of which Lily could tell Marlene about. She decided on a half-truth.

“Dorcas didn’t want to ask for help from anyone. She didn’t want to admit she needed it,” she said.
“I think she felt small, and she felt ashamed of how easy it was for Rosier to make her feel that
way, and she didn’t want anyone to know that. And, of course, there’s the noble reason: that she
was trying to protect all of us from being targeted by him, too.”

“I just thought—” Marlene said, sighing. “I thought that she and I would be past that, or, you know,
closer than that. I didn’t think that she would be scared to seem scared with me.”

“I’m not sure if there’s ever a point where anyone is past that,” Lily said, giving a small, sad shrug.
“Or any relationship, for that matter. Fear creeps into even the tiniest cracks. It’s not about you.”
That part was a lie, of course. There was so much about Dorcas’ decision to keep things from
Marlene that was particularly because of Marlene, their relationship, and how Dorcas felt about her
friend. But telling Marlene that wouldn’t help any of that, and it wasn’t Lily’s right to do so, in the
first place.

There was a long pause, then Marlene turned and gave Lily a genuine smile. “You really are an
okay person, after all.”

Lily rolled her eyes, but she was grinning, too, seeing the sparkle in Marlene’s blue ones. “What a
high form of praise.”

Marlene grinned back at her widely. “And as for replacing me, Lily Evans, I’d like to see you try.”
Lily laughed, and they chatted the rest of the way to the Owlery, where Lily sent her letter off with
a school barn owl.

....

On the following Monday morning, Lily sat at the Ravenclaw table, eating breakfast with Davey—
who she’d been dating for several months now—as well as Miranda and Mary. Lily and Davey had
first met through Miranda, as they were great friends, and it was nice to spend time with the two
Ravenclaws when she could. When Lily had arrived at Hogwarts, she’d heard that the Hufflepuffs
were on the best terms with the Gryffindors out of any other house, but in their year, there were
more overlapping friendships and relationships between Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, it seemed.
Lily supposed that these things varied from person to person, but perhaps because Miranda had had
an older brother in Gryffindor, she was naturally more apt to form relationships with their house.
That much was clear, anyway, by her friendship with Mary and the other Gryffindor girls, as well
as her relationship with James, who Lily assumed she was still dating, as she saw them together
often, despite the fact that the two didn’t seem to favor public displays of affection.

Miranda had introduced Davey properly to Lily in early November of the previous year, though
they’d been in classes together many times before. Davey had already been clearly taken with Lily
in their first conversation, but she’d still been surprised when he’d asked her out the very next
week. She’d accepted, however, and discovered that she enjoyed his company, though, six months
later, she still wasn’t sure she really knew much about him. He seemed like a rather private person,
and whenever she spent time alone with him, they’d favored kissing over talking most of the time.
Other than kissing him in private and holding his hand from class to class, Lily wasn’t quite sure
what a relationship should entail, as she’d never been in one before then, but she figured that
eventually, it’d grow more depth.

Lily was just laughing with Miranda, who’d been reading an absurd letter from her mother out loud
—wherein she was despairing over the state of her brother Marcus’ and his girlfriend Florence’s
flat in London—when the school barn owl she’d used to deliver her letter to her family fluttered
down beside her and held out its leg. She quickly unfastened it, and the barn owl departed again in
a swish of wings. Lily unfolded the letter and began to read.

Dearest Lily,

It’s so nice to hear from you. I’m glad your schoolwork has been interesting, if a bit overwhelming
at the moment. I’m sure you will do marvellously, no matter what. Your father and I have been
talking, and we think you should invite Davey over for dinner during the summer! We’d love to
meet him, as you’ve been dating for many months, now, and we’ll just make sure it’s not during
Petunia’s visit, so she doesn’t scare him away. (Your father told me not to write that, but I think
you appreciate my little jokes, darling.)

I was going to tell you this in person, but since you decided not to come home for Easter—which
I’m not upset about, don’t worry—I thought I should tell you in a letter instead. Your father took
me to the doctor about a month ago, and I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. I’ve been having
some muscle issues and tremors in my hands for a while, now, and feeling tired, and I suppose this
explains it. Now, I don’t want you to worry about me, honey. MS is quite treatable these days, and I
should be able to live a good, long life as long as I take care of myself, which, of course, your
father will diligently enforce.

I’m so looking forward to seeing you in June for the summer holidays and hearing about what
you’ve been up to with your school friends. Please feel free to invite some of them over if you’d
like, as I’d love to meet them, too. You didn’t complain too much in this last letter about those
troublemaking boys in your house. Does that mean they’ve matured a bit? I hope not, because I
love hearing the stories of what they get up to, even if you don’t approve, my Lily.

Much love,

Mum

“Lily?” Mary’s voice broke through her haze as she stared at the letter in her hands, and she started,
looking up at the other girl. Mary’s brow was furrowed as she examined her friend’s face. “Is
everything alright?”

“Yes, everything’s fine,” Lily lied, folding the letter and stowing it into her bag, then plastering a
smile onto her face. Mary raised her eyebrows as if to say that she didn’t believe a word, and Lily
returned her look tiredly, giving a small shrug to indicate that she would tell her later.

Lily worried her lower lip as she tuned out the lively conversation between Davey and Miranda,
and when it was time to go to Charms, she barely noticed when the bell rang. It was Davey tapping
her lightly on the arm that brought her back to reality, and she swung her bag over her shoulder and
took his hand automatically. As they walked to Charms together, Davey gave her hand a slight
squeeze.

“Where did you go? It seemed like your mind was somewhere else at breakfast,” he said, Miranda
and Mary a little ways ahead of them as they walked. Lily sighed.

“I just...got some bad news,” she said. Davey looked over at her in concern, and she elaborated.
“My mum just told me she’s sick. She has multiple sclerosis.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a Muggle disease,” Lily explained. “I guess she’s been having symptoms for a while.”

“Is she going to be alright?”

“She says that she’ll be fine,” Lily said, sighing. “But I don’t know…”

“Why don’t you take her to St. Mungo’s? I’m sure they have a cure if it’s just a Muggle disease.”

“It’s not just a Muggle disease,” Lily snapped, though she regretted it quickly as she saw him
frown. She tried to make her voice more level as she continued. “St. Mungo’s won’t see Muggles,
anyway, so it’s useless.”

“Well, I’m sure if she says she’ll be fine, she will be,” Davey said, giving her a smile. Lily
attempted to smile back, but she wasn’t sure it came out quite right.

“I suppose if her doctors tell her that they—”

“Doctors?” Davey interrupted, looking horrified. “Don’t they cut people up and put metal in their
bodies and things like that? My dad used to tell me stories about them. Are you sure you want your
mum to see one of them?”

“Doctors know what they’re doing,” Lily said defensively. “They go through years of training, and
they can really help people. It’s not like they do surgery for fun, they do it when they need to to
save someone’s life. I don’t think any Healer would know more about MS than my mum’s doctors
do. Wizards don’t really care about Muggle medicine.”

Davey still looked uneasy, as if he thought Lily was crazy, but wouldn’t tell her so. “All the same,”
he said, his voice cautious. “Maybe you could do some research on potions to help your mother or
other magical solutions. They’d probably work better than any Muggle medicines.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start, Davey,” Lily replied, becoming more frustrated by the
second. “I could do much more harm than good.”

Their conversation was cut short by arriving at Charms, and Lily was left taking a seat next to
Davey, as Professor Flitwick began the lesson. Looking over at him, she thought he seemed
perfectly unconcerned, as if nothing serious had occurred between them on their way to class. Still,
she was left stewing, anxiety about her mother, and anger about Davey’s attitude towards Muggle
medicines joining to form a cloud of restlessness that seemed to hover over her. She tapped her foot
on the floor, unable to concentrate on the lecture Professor Flitwick was giving, and when the bell
rang and it was time to go to Herbology, she didn’t say goodbye to Davey when she left.

....

After lunch, Lily had a free period, and, when confronted with time and space, the contents of her
mother’s letter truly hit her. She’d allowed herself to be distracted by her classes and her frustration
with Davey, but walking alone down a corridor towards the dungeons to work on an extra Potions
assignment, she found herself on the ground, clutching her knees and sobbing.

She knew it was unwise to stop there. The dungeons were the Slytherins’ domain, and she’d rather
not run into most of them down a dark corridor. Still, she couldn’t get up. Dark spots had begun to
fill her vision, and the stone floor felt as if it was tilting under her. She thought that if she tried to
lift herself up, she might drop into open space, so she stayed down, burying her head in her knees
and trying to breathe.

Lily wasn’t sure how long she’d stayed on the floor, but eventually, her rapid heartbeat slowed, the
room stopped moving around her, and she was able to lift herself up. She tried to brush the tears
from her cheeks but knew she probably looked like a wreck. Brushing off her uniform, she walked
up several corridors and eventually found a little alcove to sit in. She’d long abandoned any idea of
doing work that afternoon. The alcove was out of the way, so she didn’t think anyone would come
upon her. She sat down and put her feet up in front of her, wrapping her arms around her knees
again and staring at a spot on the wall where a spider was making its web.

Lily sat watching it for a while, and during that time, she thought. She thought about her mother,
who was brave and strong, and, despite all she’d written, probably scared, just as Lily was. She
thought of her mother’s hands, so sure and confident with a paintbrush, and knew with a pang that
she would be devastated at the thought of losing their careful balance to this disease. She thought of
her family, of her father, of Petunia, of her aunts, and all the other people who could be there with
her mother when Lily couldn’t, shut away at Hogwarts as she was. Lily thought and thought until
she exhausted herself and fell asleep in the little alcove, her cheek resting on her knees.

She was awoken several hours later by a tentative tap on her arm. Lily jerked her head up with a
start, almost injuring the bronze-skinned, messy-haired boy who was leaning over her. James
jumped back just in time and smiled tentatively down at her as she looked up at him in surprise.

“Potter?” She was suddenly conscious of her hair, which was falling messily out of the ponytail it’d
been in, and her face, which she knew must still be splotchy and red from all the crying. She
blushed, and immediately cursed herself for it. “What are you doing here?” she asked, sitting up
straighter.
“I was looking for you,” James said simply, his hand going to his hair. “I, uh—well, we had a
study session planned.”

“Oh, god,” Lily said. “It’s already after dinner?”

“Yeah, it’s almost eight.”

“Fucking hell,” Lily swore. “I have to patrol with Remus at ten. I’m sorry. I lost track of time.”

“That’s alright,” James said. He walked over to the other side of the stone alcove and sat down
across from Lily, his hazel eyes trained on her, thick eyebrows slightly furrowed. “Do you want to
talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Lily asked, hastily pulling her hair into a more presentable ponytail and
surreptitiously wiping her face free of any lasting tears. She narrowed her eyes at him, suddenly
suspicious. “How did you find me here? Barely anyone ever comes down this corridor.”

“Lucky guess?” James said, a guilty question at the end of his words and his hand going back to his
hair. Lily raised her eyebrows but almost smiled.

“You can keep your secrets, Potter,” she said, and he visibly relaxed, smiling at her.

“You can keep yours, too, Evans,” he replied easily. “I’m just saying, I’m a good listener.”

She hesitated, looking him up and down. She could easily tell him to bugger off, and go back to the
dormitory to talk to Mary, who Lily knew would always be there as a shoulder to lean on, but
something held her back. Perhaps it was just because he was here, and not looking at her any
differently than normal despite the fact that half of her face was puffy and red, her uniform was
rumpled, and her hair was an auburn bird’s nest. Perhaps it was the fact that, loath as she was to
admit it, she felt rather touched that he’d cared enough to come and find her, even if it was just to
study. So she told him.

“My mum just wrote to me this morning,” she explained. “She told me that she’s been diagnosed
with MS—multiple sclerosis. It’s a Muggle disease.”

“I’m so sorry,” James said, frowning. “Can they cure it?”

“No,” Lily replied, shaking her head. “It’s progressive, and my mum says that she can manage it,
but it can’t be cured.”

“Merlin, that’s tough,” James said. “How does your mum seem about it?”

“She seemed calm in the letter, but I think she just wants me not to worry. I’m sure she’s scared.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” James asked gently. “Still, even if she’s worried or scared, it doesn’t mean
that she can’t manage it. And you’ve got every right to be worried and scared, too, of course. You
should talk to her about it.”

Lily hesitated again, then said: “My mum’s a painter. She works at a studio, and she paints all the
time, whenever she can. She’s always told me that painting is like breathing for her, and I know
how happy it makes her. Because of MS, she said she’s been having tremors in her hands. If she
can’t paint…” She trailed off, unsure of how to continue, looking up to meet James’ steady, hazel
gaze, which was full of sympathy.

“I won’t tell you that it’s going to be okay, because I don’t know enough to qualify me to say that,”
James said slowly. “But if she has you to support her, it’ll make all the difference.” Lily nodded
slowly, blinking away the tears that filled her eyes.

“I wish I could do more to help,” she said. “If I was a Healer...if I knew Potions that could
help...but I have no idea where to even start. I could do more harm than good.”

“You could ask Professor Slughorn and Madam Pomfrey about it,” James suggested. “But it might
be better to leave it to the Muggle doctors since they’re the experts on your mum’s condition. If
only St. Mungo’s allowed Muggle patients…” He trailed off, shaking his head in frustration, eyes
sparking with anger as he sighed. When he looked back into Lily’s scared face, however, his eyes
softened. “I can do a bit of reading if you’d like.”

“Do you know much about Healing?” Lily asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise. James
shrugged.

“A bit,” he admitted modestly. “I’ve done some research over the years. It’s something I’m
interested in.”

“Well, thank you,” Lily said, feeling completely out of her comfort zone. “That’s very nice of
you.”

“No problem,” James replied easily. “Anything I can do to help.” Lily found herself staring at him
for a long moment, trying to make sense of the boy sitting across from her, reconciling him with
the one she thought she’d known for their first five years at Hogwarts. She found she couldn’t, and
then looked away when she realized how long she’d been staring.

“I should go,” Lily said, huffing out a large sigh and standing up. “If I’m quick, I can try to finish
McGonagall’s essay before I have to meet Remus. If I don’t finish it by tomorrow, I’ll feel even
worse than I do now.”

“I have to go, too,” James said. “I told Miranda that we’d work on the Herbology essay together, so
I have to meet her. Let me know if you need any help on the Transfiguration essay, though. I’ll be
around. And if you ever want to talk again, I’m here.”

“I think it’ll be fine, but thank you. Tell Miranda I said hello,” Lily said, a mysterious knot forming
in her stomach as she did so. “I’m really sorry that I wasted our study session. Let me know if you
need any help with the Potions homework later, too, okay?”

“Don’t worry about that,” James said, waving an airy hand and standing up. “I’m nearly done with
it, actually. What you explained during class really helped.”

“Oh,” Lily said, slightly taken aback. “Then why did you come and find me?”

“I dunno,” James said. “We planned our study session already. And I like talking about
Transfiguration with you, believe it or not.”

Lily gave him a slight smile. “You’re not so bad to work with, either, Potter.”

He tilted his head slightly and gave her a strange, amused smile that made her skin tingle
unexpectedly. “Isn’t it about time you started calling me James?” he asked after a pause, still
smiling at her in that peculiar way. His tone became playful as he continued. “‘Potter’ just doesn’t
have the same ring to it without the old disdainful tone, and that must be exhausting to muster up
every time you say my name, so I wouldn’t ask that of you.”

“Alright, James,” Lily said, letting out a surprised laugh. “I guess that means you’ll have to call me
Lily, then.”

“Ah, but I don’t have the disdainful tone when I say Evans,” James said, his smile cheeky now.
“So it’s not the same.”

“I’d still prefer Lily,” she said, surprising herself a little bit, as she realized that she really would
like him to call her by her first name.

“Alright, Lily,” he replied, as if testing the name out on his tongue. They both stood smiling at
each other for a moment, as if acknowledging the unspoken milestone they’d just reached in their
friendship. Then, James gave her a little wave and turned to walk back toward the library. Lily
stared after him for a moment, then shook her head to clear it, and began to walk in the direction of
Gryffindor Tower.

....

After spending an hour working on McGonagall’s essay on the process of complex human
transfiguration, Lily met Remus in the Gryffindor common room, and the pair left to patrol the
dark corridors together. As they walked, Lily told Remus about her mother’s news, and of her
peculiar conversation with James.

“He’s not what I expected,” Lily admitted, her voice pensive. “He’s...different. I don’t know.”

“Wow,” Remus said after a pause, smiling. “Something Lily Evans doesn’t know? Incredible.”
Lily rolled her eyes and shoved him lightly.

“Shush,” she said, laughing. “If you want to say ‘I told you so,’ just do it.”

“I told you so,” Remus said, smiling. “What did you think, that I had Stockholm Syndrome all
these years, hanging around him?”

“Perhaps,” Lily said. “He and Sirius have both surprised me this year, actually.”

Remus’ expression darkened slightly. “With Sirius, it might actually be Stockholm Syndrome,” he
muttered.

“What’s he done now?”

“Nothing,” Remus said quickly. “Well,” he amended, sighing. “Nothing new.”

“You two have been on the outs almost this whole year,” Lily said. “I’d understand if it was still
about what he did last year, but I thought that you’d made up?”

“It was fine over the summer,” Remus said. “And we’re not exactly on the outs. It’s just been…”

“Tense?” Lily offered. Remus nodded.

“We fought in October, and it’s been cold between us ever since then. He just irks me so much
sometimes, no matter what he’s doing.”

“What did you fight about?” Lily asked, pushing back her hair to look at him. It’d grown back to
her usual length over the course of the year, and while it was more cumbersome, she felt as if its
growth signified her own return to herself.

“Something stupid,” Remus said, his voice holding a tinge of shame and regret in it. “I started it,
and I never properly apologized. Maybe I should. It’s just—”
“You don’t want to admit that you were wrong,” Lily finished his sentence for him again, smirking
slightly. Remus shook his head, amusement playing across his face.

“Your talent for reading people is quite unnerving, Lily,” he said. “No, I don’t want to admit that I
was wrong. I’m not used to being the one in the wrong, with Sirius. It’s usually him that ends up
having to apologize.”

“And he actually apologizes?” Lily asked, surprised. Over the course of her six years of knowing
Sirius, she’d only heard him genuinely say he was sorry once: when she’d confronted him about
telling Severus how to get to Remus on the full moon. It’d been an extreme circumstance, and Lily
thought that she’d deserved plenty of his apologies before that point.

“He usually does,” Remus said. “After a spell. And with the prompting of James, sometimes, I
think.” Lily laughed quietly. It was funny to think of James as a voice of reason, though in his and
Sirius’ relationship, she supposed that he must be.

“Does he ever apologize to James or Peter?”

Remus thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I can’t remember. I think he apologized to James for
what he did last year because James put his life on the line because of it,” he said. “But he doesn’t
usually have much reason to apologize to them. He’d never apologize for a detention or a prank
gone wrong, and none of us expect an apology for those sorts of things from each other, anyway.”
Remus hesitated, then said: “Sirius doesn’t really fight with James or Peter. He and I...well, we get
each other fired up too easily.”

“Well, you’re very different.”

“Maybe,” Remus said, looking doubtful. “Or maybe it’s because we’re too similar.”

Lily glanced over at him curiously. His expression was distant, as if he was a million miles away
from her. She’d noticed the same expression on his face a lot in the past year when they were
studying or patrolling together. It reminded her of Dorcas, in her haze of school, burying her head
in the sand so she wouldn’t have to deal with what was happening with the people around her. Still,
other times, Lily would look over to him at the Gryffindor table, or in the common room, and see
frustration and annoyance flit across his face, often when Sirius was absent, presumably off with
Marlene. He would always hide it quickly, but Lily was observant.

She remembered what her Aunt Ella had told her, when she’d been eight years old, Lily’s small
hands clasped in her aunt’s larger ones. Just because you can’t see something, it doesn’t mean it’s
not there, her aunt had said, when Lily had asked her why she never saw other people like her and
her partner, Eileen. People like us don’t often talk about who we are, or who we love, because
other people don’t like it. But remember, Lily, love that’s hidden away is no less beautiful than
love that’s shown to the world.

She wasn’t sure if she dared to ask, or even if she should. Perhaps her Aunt Ella would tell her not
to, to leave it alone, but Lily was far too nosy and meddlesome for her own good. “You know, I
always wondered about you two,” she began, her heart beating quickly, telling her to go back.

Remus gave her a sharp look. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Lily said, choosing her words carefully. “I thought that perhaps there was
something...between you. You know, something more than friendship.”

“Why would you say that?” Remus asked, turning his eyes away from her. He didn’t blush. Quite
the opposite, his skin had paled slightly. A pang of regret went through Lily.

“I don’t know,” Lily said. “Just a feeling.”

“Well, there’s nothing,” Remus replied, a snap in his voice. “I’m not—no.” He shook his head, still
not looking at her. Lily sighed inwardly. She’d been too curious for her own good, and now she
knew that even if her suspicions were true, he’d likely never tell her.

There was a long pause as Lily tried to decide what the best thing to say in response was. Should
she apologize? But for what? She didn’t think that there was anything wrong with being gay. But
then she remembered the note that Evan Rosier had sent Dorcas, with the drawing of Marlene
laughing, which had read on the back: Is this how you see her? He’d made it into something ugly
with those words, the way that Dorcas looked at Marlene with adoration and awe, just by
commenting on it. He’d been threatening her, and Dorcas had known it, and Lily had known it, too.
Perhaps, gay or not, Remus had found the same threat in Lily’s words, even though she hadn’t
meant them that way.

“I’m sorry,” Lily said. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I guess I was way off the mark.”
She saw his shoulders relax slightly and felt relieved. Lily searched around for a way to change the
subject.

“How was the full moon?”

“Fine,” Remus replied, shrugging, then glanced over at her, finding her eyebrows raised in
disbelief. Lily had seen him limping for the past few days. He sighed, shrugging. “Not great,” he
admitted. “I dislocated my knee. Madam Pomfrey said it might take a week or two to be right
again, and now that it was dislocated once, it’s more likely to happen again. If I was a Muggle,
though, I’d need surgery, so I shouldn’t complain.”

“You should complain,” Lily said. “You have every right to.”

“Yeah,” Remus said, sighing wearily, and giving her a bitter smile. “I’m too tired to today, though.
And it won’t make it hurt any less.”

“Does that kind of thing happen often? Dislocations, I mean.”

“Often enough,” Remus said. “I dislocated my right shoulder for the first time when I was eight,
and it’s been popping out every couple of months since. When my bones rearrange, you know, I
often get breaks and dislocations.”

Lily tried to conceal the horrified expression on her face so that Remus wouldn’t see it and
tentatively asked another question. “So most of your injuries are from the transformation from
human to wolf or vice versa, not from while you’re a wolf?”

“These days, most of them are from the physical transformation, yes,” Remus said. He avoided her
eyes as he said it, and Lily narrowed hers.

“What changed?”

Remus shrugged, looking very shifty. “I got older, I guess. I dunno.” Lily couldn’t help but smile.
For someone who kept so many secrets, he was a terrible liar. Perhaps he relied on people not
asking.

“Alright, Remus,” she said, giving him a gentle pat on his arm. “You can keep your secrets.” He
actually grinned at her, then, almost cheekily, and she laughed.
“What about your life, Lily?” Remus asked, a smile on his face. “How’s Davey?”

Lily frowned. “He’s alright.”

“Trouble in paradise?”

“Not exactly,” Lily said. “He’s just...I don’t know. I’m beginning to wonder if he’s really it for
me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, well,” Lily tried to find the words. “I don’t know if I can picture things lasting between
us. I’m not sure he’s really able to understand who I am. And maybe I don’t really know who he is,
either.”

“Because he’s not Muggle-born?”

“I don’t think it’s that,” Lily said. “We both know purebloods who took Muggle Studies and are
interested in Muggle things, and he’s just not. He’s not a blood supremacist, of course, I would
never have started dating him if he was, but he does seem to subscribe to the belief that Muggles
are, in some ways, inherently inferior to wizards. Like, he said this thing about how I shouldn’t
trust Muggle doctors to treat my mother because they’re dangerous and wizarding treatments will
always be better. It was just so ignorant. I don’t think that he can see that just because I’m a witch,
doesn’t mean I’m not still, well...a Muggle? That’s the world I was raised in, I mean.”

“That’s shit, I’m sorry,” Remus said sympathetically. “I know a lot of wizards grew up believing
that stuff, but it doesn’t make it okay. If you wanted to try explaining why it upset you, he might be
receptive, though.” Lily nodded, worrying her lower lip. Remus gave her a shrewd, sideways
glance. “Unless you don’t think it’s worth it.”

“I don’t know…”

“Lily, how much do you like Davey?”

“I—I like him,” Lily said hesitantly, almost defensively. An incredulous smile spread across
Remus’ face.

“I don’t know about you, but if I were dating someone, I would be a bit ticked off if that’s all the
enthusiasm they could muster up about me.”

“Ugh,” Lily said, letting out a huff of exasperation. “I’m a terrible person! It’s been six months and
I don’t even know why I’m dating him at this point. Except for the snogging, I suppose. I do like
that.” She gave him a cheeky smile, and Remus laughed.

“You’re not a terrible person,” he said, still chuckling. “You’re just not that into him. That’s
alright, but you should break up with him.”

“You’re right,” Lily said heavily. “Of course you’re right. I just hate the prospect of having to
dump him, or anyone, for that matter.”

“I guess you’ve never had to before,” Remus conceded. Then, he smiled. “On the bright side, you
do have a lot of experience warding off unwanted flirting from James. That might help.”

“I think that’s a different skill set,” Lily replied, smiling. “I’m not sure hexing Davey and walking
away is the best course of action, in this case.”
“Don’t knock it until you try it,” Remus joked. “It would probably get the message across pretty
quickly.” Lily began to laugh, and Remus joined in.

Lily was glad of this; it was the first thing that’d felt easy for that whole, god-forsaken day. So
much seemed to have changed within her and around her in such a short time. It was like when, as a
child, she’d fallen asleep on a beach when the shoreline was far away and woken to find the water
lapping at her toes as the tide came in. Still, it wasn’t all bad, she thought, remembering her
conversations with James and Marlene. Tomorrow, she’d break up with Davey, and figure out how
to reply to her mother’s letter. At that moment, however, she just laughed and laughed.
 1977: What We Really Want
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

By the middle of May, Marlene almost couldn’t recall a happier time of her life. The euphoria of
getting Dorcas back, after the length of time that they’d felt distant from one another, was truly
spectacular. It was as if the color had slowly been fading from her life the longer she’d been
without the other girl, and she hadn’t noticed it until it’d returned in a single brilliant flash, almost
blinding her. Marlene drank it all in, seeking out Dorcas whenever she could and spending as much
time with her as possible. She even felt guilty sometimes, wondering if she’d taken her best friend
for granted before. Dorcas, for her part, seemed surprised but pleased by Marlene’s immense
enthusiasm for being around her again.

“You know that you don’t have to hang out with me all the time just because we were on the outs
for a while?” Dorcas had said one day as they were studying in the library. “You must have other
things to do, other people you want to spend time with.”

Marlene had just smiled at her. “I know I don’t have to,” she said. “I just want to.”

And it was true. In the months of separation, Marlene had developed an almost physical ache as
she longed to be close to Dorcas again. Though their reunion had eased it somewhat, Marlene still
felt it sometimes, as if being parted from her best friend had been making her sick. She didn’t just
want to be around Dorcas; she needed it. Luckily for her, it seemed like Dorcas either felt the same
way or at least had no objections to it.

Almost every morning, Dorcas would wake early to walk around the grounds with Marlene,
sometimes with their arms linked or around one another. At night, Marlene would often climb in
through Dorcas’ four-poster hangings and lie down beside her, talking until one of them fell asleep.
She couldn’t truly explain the need for closeness; she just knew that she needed it.

Marlene only started to suspect that this need for closeness was more than what met the eye in late
May. It happened one evening when Marlene had been sitting in the dormitory after classes,
chatting with Emmeline about how the points could fall after the last Quidditch game of the
season, Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw, that Saturday. As the two girls were debating the strategies that
each Captain would use, Dorcas entered the dormitory. She greeted them with a smile, then turned
to her bed and pulled out her pajamas, turning her back on them as she changed.

As Dorcas pulled off her blouse, Marlene felt herself unable to look away, watching as Dorcas’
fingers deftly unclasped her bra and let the hooks hang for a second before she removed it
completely. In the brief moment before Dorcas pulled on her t-shirt, Marlene’s gaze traced down
the line of her spine, the dark skin there smooth and silky, and she felt her pulse begin to pound in
her ears. It was only a brief second, however, and Marlene tore her eyes away once her view was
obstructed by Dorcas pulling on a t-shirt, which was coincidentally one of Marlene’s—the
Aerosmith shirt she’d purchased in London the summer prior.

As Marlene looked back to Emmeline, her heart still pounding, her cheeks flushed with sudden,
unexplainable warmth, she still couldn’t block out the sight of Dorcas, from the corner of her eye,
pulling on a pair of soft shorts and smoothing her mussed curls. Marlene tried desperately to
concentrate on what Emmeline was saying as Dorcas walked over to her chest of drawers,
removing her earrings—which today were shaped like mandrakes—and hanging them on her
jewelry organizer.
“What do you think?” Emmeline asked her, and Marlene snapped back to attention.

“About what? Sorry,” Marlene said guiltily, her face still warm. Her heart was beating far too fast
for the situation, which she told herself was completely benign. She was only sitting in her
dormitory talking to her friend, yet one would’ve thought that she was doing laps on the Quidditch
pitch based on the beating of her heart and the flush in her face.

“I asked you if you think that Williams will get the Ravenclaw Chasers to use the Wollongong
Shimmy,” Emmeline repeated, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at Marlene. “It’s one of the
toughest plays to counter, and Travers isn’t a very good Keeper, so he’ll have trouble with it.”

“Oh,” Marlene said, trying to erase her moment of distraction, “I dunno, they’ve never used it
before, but the Slytherin Chasers have, so the Ravenclaws could change their tactics.”

Emmeline nodded, but she was still looking at Marlene oddly. “Why are you all red?”

Marlene shrugged. “It’s warm in here,” she defended, her gaze flicking to Dorcas again quickly for
reasons that she couldn’t quite explain to herself.

“I suppose,” Emmeline said, but she didn’t look convinced by Marlene’s explanation. Her eyes
flicked between Marlene and Dorcas, too, but she said nothing else on the topic. Marlene’s blush
did not go away for a long time, and that night she had trouble going to sleep, as her mind kept
flashing inexplicably to the image of Dorcas’ fingers unhooking her bra from earlier.

Marlene had, at first, thought that what had happened in the dormitory that night was just a fluke, a
momentary betrayal of her mind and body, but this proved not to be the case over the next couple
of weeks. During this time, Marlene had had several episodes of the same strange occurrences: her
heart would speed up, her cheeks would flush with heat, and sometimes her palms would even
sweat. Every single time this had happened, Dorcas was somewhere near her, doing innocent things
such as putting up her hair in a bun, chewing on the end of her quill as she paused from taking notes
in lessons, laughing at a joke in the common room, or simply being close enough to Marlene for
her to catch the scent of her shampoo.

Therefore, Marlene had spent almost three whole weeks waiting for whatever was malfunctioning
in her brain and body to go away so that she could be around her best friend again in peace, but to
no avail. It was incredibly annoying, and it was getting in the way of Marlene’s ability to live her
life.

Even after Slytherin’s narrow defeat of Ravenclaw meant that Gryffindor had won the Quidditch
Cup that year, Marlene was quite distracted from her usual celebrating by the sight of Dorcas in a
halter top at the after-match party, which caused her to have heart palpitations, signaling what
Marlene was sure was some deadly disease she couldn’t put her finger on. What was more, this
entirely turned her off the idea of sneaking off with Sirius to celebrate on their own, as he’d
suggested, and she couldn’t even bring herself to be disappointed at the missed opportunity.

Marlene tried to convince herself at first that these occurrences must just be her body’s strange
response to her and Dorcas’ recently renewed friendship. Or else, she told herself that she must be
dying, that her body and mind must be horribly broken at the moment, as the alternative was
somehow much more complex and overwhelming to handle. So what if she’d suddenly become
allergic to her best friend after thirteen years? So what if Dorcas’ renewed closeness was triggering
some kind of heart disease which had lain dormant for Marlene’s whole life? These explanations
were still better than the one that was glaring her in the face: that she’d developed feelings for her
best friend. Marlene was sure that any disease she had was infinitely more curable and less painful
than the prospect of having her heart broken by the most important person in her life.
Still, it perplexed her. How could it be that it was Dorcas who was making her feel this way? How
could Dorcas reaching across her at dinner to grab the salt make Marlene blush scarlet when she
was regularly shagging Sirius? Of course, it was true that she’d never felt much more for Sirius
than lust, but this was because of the peculiar nature of their arrangement and friendship, and
Marlene had felt many things for other boys over the years. She remembered lying awake in fourth
year, daydreaming about Christopher Campbell, the then-sixth-year Chaser on the Gryffindor team.
Being two years older than her, he’d never spared her a glance, but for a period of two months,
she’d fantasized incessantly about running her hands through his dark brown hair, and tried to get
his attention in the most ludicrous ways possible.

Then there was Derek Alton, a Ravenclaw who was now in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts,
who she’d snogged at the end of her fifth year after flirting back and forth with him for weeks. To
her mortification and disappointment, he’d run off to date a Hufflepuff girl in his year only a week
later, and Marlene had been left in the dust. But she had liked him, hadn’t she? She’d even cried
when he shook her off, sure as she’d been then that they’d begin to date.

But perhaps...perhaps Marlene didn’t have to choose. Was it possible that all those things were real,
and yet the sudden butterflies she was getting around Dorcas were also real? Marlene didn’t know,
and whenever she thought of it, her head hurt, so she tried not to think about it.

One Friday in the second week of June, Marlene was partnered with James in Herbology, when
they were set the perilous task of extracting pods from a Snargaluff plant. The room was full of
noise, as people swore, shouted instructions to each other, and tried not to get injured by the angry
stump. Marlene was in her element, working alongside James seamlessly as he tried to beat the
branches away while she stuck her hands boldly into whatever crevices she could find to extract
the green, pulsating pods.

The adrenaline and excitement of their task made Marlene bold, and she came to the conclusion
that this was the perfect time to shed some more light on the problem that had been occupying so
much of her attention for the past few weeks.

“James,” Marlene said, elbow deep in a hole that seemed to be trying to slowly cut off her blood
flow, as he struggled to free her. “Who was the last person you fancied?”

“Is that really what you’re thinking about right now?” James asked through gritted teeth, his eyes
focused on the branches he was trying to wrench apart. Marlene was finally able to free her arm,
and she plopped the pods into a bowl, rubbing her shoulder gingerly. She shrugged.

“I was just curious.”

James wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand, letting out a long, relieved breath as
the Snargaluff turned back into an innocent-looking stump. “I’m not actually sure, to be honest,” he
admitted. “I fancied Miranda, and I don’t anymore. But she said I fancy Lily, or I did when we
went on a date, and maybe I did? Maybe I still do? I don’t really know.”

“But you must know,” Marlene insisted, frowning at him intently. “I mean, isn’t it just, like, clear
when you fancy someone?”

“I don’t fucking know,” James replied, scrubbing his face with a hand and smearing dirt all over it
before smiling ruefully at her. “I feel like maybe it is sometimes, but not always. Things are
complicated.”

“Why complicated?”
“Well, you know,” James said, rolling his eyes. “Lily’s barely even my friend now, and it was only
a couple of months ago that I think she still would have gladly watched a Snargaluff tear my arms
off. I’ve been rejected by her, explicitly or implicitly, so many times. Fancying someone who
doesn’t fancy you is quite inconvenient, isn’t it?”

“So you’re not sure if you fancy Lily because you don’t want to fancy her?” Marlene asked,
raising her eyebrows at him. James shrugged, then began to try to squash the pods in the bowl so
that they would release their innards.

“I think I do know, deep down,” he replied. “I think you’re right that you always do kind of know,
even if you get really good at hiding it from yourself.” He looked up at her, breathing heavily from
the effort of trying to burst the pod. “What’s up, Marley? Why are you asking about this?”

“I—” Marlene began, then hesitated, sighing. “I think I fancy someone. But...it’s the wrong
person.”

“The wrong person?” James asked with an incredulous laugh. “Is there a right person to fancy?”

“Maybe,” Marlene said, fidgeting. Now that the stump had resumed its normal position, she was
left with little to do. She pulled the bowl with the pods towards her and began to try to squeeze
them until they burst, too.

“Is it Sirius?” James asked, his tone casual. “I would hardly think he’d be the ‘wrong’ person, as
you’re already shagging him.”

“It’s not him,” Marlene said, shaking her head and now trying to squash the pods with her heavy
Herbology textbook. “I’ve told you a million times, I don’t fancy Sirius. It’s...someone else.
Someone who I really, really shouldn’t be fancying. But maybe I’m imagining it? Maybe it’s not
what I think it is.”

“Symptoms?” James asked, raising his eyebrows at her. She gave him a strange look, and he
smiled. “You can’t diagnose without symptoms.” Marlene huffed out a laugh, and paused for a
moment, silence stretching between them as she wrestled fruitlessly with the pods.

“Blushing, heartbeat racing, sweaty palms, all in proximity of this person,” she listed distractedly.
Then she hesitated and added: “I think about them all the time, every moment of every day. And
whenever they’re not near, I feel like my insides have been torn out.”

“Wow,” James said, looking taken aback. “You’re really head over heels, then.”

“No chance that I have some rare disease?” Marlene asked hopefully. James shrugged and gave her
a sympathetic smile.

“No, I’m afraid the verdict is clear,” he said. When she let out a heavy sigh, he gave her shoulder a
light, friendly shove. “Hey, it can’t be that bad. Whoever this bloke is, you’ve just got to figure out
if he’s worth it, and then sort your shit out and do something about it.”

“You don’t understand,” Marlene said, trying to blink away the burning feeling at the back of her
eyes and looking up at James. “This—this means—I can’t feel this way, James. I just can’t.”

James sobered quickly, his expression falling into a concerned frown as he examined her face,
searching it for any clue. “Who is it?” he asked seriously, his hazel eyes intent upon her. She let out
another deep exhale, meeting his gaze, and opened her mouth to make some excuse, but she was
saved by Professor Sprout, who stopped behind them.
“Didn’t you read your books, Mr. Potter, Miss McKinnon? To get the juice of a Snargaluff pod out,
you must puncture it first with something sharp. Go on, now, class is almost over.”

“Yes, Professor,” Marlene said hastily, grabbing her quill from the table and puncturing the
pulsating pod under her fingers. Immediately, the pod began to ooze green goo, and Marlene
recoiled, disgusted, before puncturing two more pods. James gave her another concerned, covert
glance, but she ignored him, and when the bell rang, they joined Sirius and started up a lively
conversation. Marlene knew James would not forget what they’d spoken of, but he didn’t bring it
up again.

Marlene slept barely a wink that night, staring up at the top of her four-poster bed as she tried to
wrap her head around the new development. She knew James was right; she wasn’t afflicted with
any disease, and burying her head in the sand wouldn’t help her case. She liked Dorcas. She
fancied Dorcas. Marlene fancied her so much that she ached when Dorcas wasn’t around her, she
lay awake thinking about her at night, and the merest glance could turn Marlene to jelly. Despite
the initial denial, Marlene was able to accept this as fact in a relatively short time, but this was only
the first hurdle she had to contend with.

Her next question was harder to answer: if Marlene had feelings for Dorcas, what the hell did this
mean for her? She gave this a considerable amount of thought and ultimately decided that she had
no idea. It was undeniable that she had feelings for Dorcas, a girl, and equally undeniable that
she’d had feelings for several blokes in her time at Hogwarts, and had been rather enjoying her
arrangement with Sirius, until this most recent distraction, at least. Besides Dorcas, however, she
wasn’t sure if she’d ever liked another girl.

Something tickled in the back of her memory then, as she watched the dim light that shone through
her curtains from the sliver of a crescent moon that hung in the sky. The recollection was like a
fish, leaping to the bait from the depths of a lake where it’d seemed not to have existed a moment
ago. It was of her first meeting with Florence, their old Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and Beater,
when Marlene had been a first year. Marlene had been so astonished that the older girl was talking
to her, so overwhelmed by her own admiration, that she’d turned into a blushing, stammering mess.
For the next year or so, a glow of happiness had formed in Marlene every time Florence spoke to
her. She’d enjoyed holding it over James—who had fancied Florence then—that the older girl
liked Marlene better.

Marlene almost laughed aloud, placing her pillow over her mouth to muffle the sound. She
removed it, and smiled up at the ceiling, her cheeks warm. How could she have been so dense?
She’d admired Florence as much as James had, competed with him for her attention, and copied the
older girl in many things. Even recently, when she hadn’t gotten Quidditch Captain, a large part of
Marlene was hurt, thinking about how Florence had passed her over for James. When James had
said, Florence always liked you best , she’d felt the old flame light in her again at the thought of
the other girl’s approval. In retrospect, it was obvious.

Marlene smiled up at the canopy for a while longer, enjoying the feeling of everything falling into
place, but her smile faded eventually. This might clarify things for her, but she still had no idea
how to begin to communicate these things to other people, if she ever even wanted to. What would
her family think, or her friends? Would they think it was disgusting, that Marlene could feel that
way about another girl? And what about Dorcas? Marlene rolled onto her side and imagined
Dorcas laying across from her, her curly hair falling onto the pillow, dark eyes steady on hers, the
quirk of a smile on her full lips. Her lips… Marlene groaned and rolled to her other side, facing the
curtain.

What did this mean for Marlene’s friendship with Dorcas? Should Marlene tell her, or should she
take the secret to her grave? She favored the latter but doubted that Dorcas would be fooled by
Marlene’s pretense, as Marlene was just about as good at lying as she was at staying out of
mischief.

Was there any possibility that Dorcas felt the same way? The question in her mind was full of
desperate longing, as Marlene imagined just a fraction of the happiness she would feel if Dorcas
did fancy her, too. But, she told herself, it was extremely unlikely that Dorcas was even interested
in girls at all. Then again, a traitorously hopeful voice in Marlene’s head said, Dorcas has never
talked about or dated any blokes before . But Marlene pushed away the possibility, telling herself
that she shouldn’t get her hopes up for nothing.

....

The next morning, Marlene was exhausted, both physically and mentally. Her head ached, which
she thought might be partly due to her lack of sleep and partly due to her mind racing all night.
Still, even after spending half the night thinking, she had no idea how to act around Dorcas. She’d
decided to keep her new feelings to herself, hoping they would fade, but now that she’d actually
acknowledged the feelings as being real, how was she supposed to look Dorcas in the eye and keep
them from her?

Marlene decided she needed a distraction from her thoughts, something to help her screw her head
back on. This was why she pulled Sirius into an empty Transfiguration classroom that afternoon,
after Quidditch practice. He smiled against her lips as he locked the door behind them.

“For a minute, I thought you were getting bored with me,” he said between kisses. She didn’t
respond, just wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him forward so that his body was flush
with hers.

Afterward, she was somewhat relieved to note that sleeping with Sirius had given her the same
rush as it’d done before. She’d been half-frightened that realizing that she was attracted to girls
would suddenly switch off the part of her brain that appreciated blokes, but it hadn’t. Still, she
couldn’t deny that she’d been rejecting him more and more for the past few weeks. He always took
it in his stride, but she knew he was wondering what’d changed.

“You’re quiet,” Sirius said, pulling his shirt back over his head. “What’s been going on with you
lately?”

Marlene turned away from the open window she’d been gazing out of, which had a spectacular
view of the lake, and looked at him. Sirius’ hair was mussed, his grey eyes were bright, and
Marlene could see the single dragon earring Dorcas had made for him dangling from his right ear.
It was a stark reminder of the girl that’d taken up so much of her headspace over the past few
weeks, making it feel like Dorcas was in the room, which felt all sorts of wrong.

“I don’t think we should do this anymore,” Marlene blurted out.

Sirius’ barely looked surprised. “Okay,” he said slowly, leaning back on a desk. “Of course, if you
don’t want to do this, that’s completely up to you. But why?”

“This year, it’s been great with us,” Marlene said, trying to find the words to explain. “I’ve had fun,
and it’s been a nice distraction. I feel like I’ve even grown, and we’re closer than we’ve ever been
before, and I love that bit, too.” She hesitated, meeting his eyes. “But that’s all it’ll ever be. I love
you as a friend, and you love me that way, too, and that’s all we’ll ever be.”

Sirius looked nonplussed. “I thought that was the point?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “Fun,
distraction, and no strings. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“It’s what I wanted before,” Marlene said. “But I don’t think it’s what I want now. I want to be
your friend, Sirius, and for you to be mine, because I love being your friend. But for the rest of it...I
want something different, something you can’t give me. Do you get it?”

“I suppose, maybe,” Sirius said, looking a little wary. “You want the whole thing? Someone to fall
in love with, who’ll hold your hand and kiss you in public and do all the other stuff that couples do
that make us gag?”

Marlene smiled a bit sadly, as Dorcas’ face popped into her head, filling her with renewed longing.
“I’m not sure I’ll ever get it,” she said, shrugging. “But yeah, I think I’ve realized that I do...I want
the whole damn thing.”

Sirius gave her a rueful smile. “It’s a nice thing to want,” he said. “I really hope you get it.”

Marlene smiled back at him sadly. “Thanks, Sirius.” She paused, giving him a searching look, then
crooked her mouth into a half-smirk, tilting her head slightly to the side. “Maybe it’s time you
figured out what you really want, too.”

“What do you mean?” Sirius asked, furrowing his brow, a bit of defensiveness tinging his
expression.

Marlene smiled wider. “Did you expect me to believe it was ever really me?” she asked, letting out
a light laugh. “I know you better than that.”

She remembered the first time he had approached her in the Quidditch locker rooms, asking for her
help. Marlene had never asked why he’d really wanted to kiss her that day, and Sirius had never
told her, not in all their talks that year. It wasn’t that she didn’t itch to know the answer; it was just
that she knew he wouldn’t tell her.

Sirius stared at her for a second, then smiled, shaking his head in amusement. “You read me like
an open book, Marley,” he said. “But since you know so much, can you tell me what it is I really
want?”

Marlene shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “All I know is that it isn’t me.” She studied him, but
his expression was closed and didn’t give any clues away.

“We had fun, though,” Sirius said, grinning. “I wouldn’t change anything about this last year with
you, you know, Marley. It’s been, well—I love you. Platonically, of course. And I’ll miss this.”

“I’ll miss it, too,” Marlene said, walking towards him and giving him a tight hug. Sirius pulled her
in, arms strong and sure. His hugs were among Marlene’s favorites, out of all of her friends, and
they’d become especially familiar this past year. “And I love you, too. I wouldn’t change a thing,
either. This year’s been great.”

When they drew back, Sirius’ eyes looked a bit watery, and Marlene herself felt slightly teary, too.
“Promise we’ll still hang out all the time?” Sirius asked, raising his eyebrows as if challenging her
to say no. Marlene shoved him playfully, a wide smile spreading across her face.

“Obviously,” she said, and he looked relieved. “Us blood traitors have got to stick together, haven’t
we?”

....
What with studying for their looming exams, it took everyone a good two weeks to realize that
Sirius and Marlene had stopped sneaking off together. It was James who first brought it up to
Marlene, after their Charms exam. For someone who’d never liked her and Sirius’ arrangement
much, Marlene was surprised by James’ reaction to her telling him that it was over.

“Over?!” James exclaimed, almost choking on the handful of chips he’d stuffed into his mouth.
They were in the kitchens, getting provisions for their D.A.D.A. study session they’d planned with
Dorcas and Peter that afternoon.

“I think you heard me,” Marlene said, smirking at him as he coughed. He looked down at her,
raising his eyebrows.

“When exactly did it become a thing of the past?” James asked, a bemused expression on his face.

“About two weeks ago,” Marlene replied, picking at her cuticles nonchalantly.

“Two weeks!” James exclaimed, looking nonplussed. “How did I not notice?”

Marlene shrugged. “We’ve all been busy.”

“So—what? Did you two have an argument or something?” James asked probingly. Marlene just
rolled her eyes at him.

“It’s not like we broke up, James,” she said. “We just decided it wasn’t for us anymore, that’s all.”

“Uh huh,” James said disbelievingly, as they left the kitchens and began to mount the stairs. “So,
you and Sirius decided to be just friends right after you told me that you fancy someone else. You
really expect me to believe that’s a coincidence?”

“I don’t expect you to believe anything of the sort, James,” Marlene replied smoothly. “Just don’t
harp on about it, alright?”

“Look, I figured you didn’t want to talk about it anymore when you avoided me after class that
day, and I respected that,” James said, looking a bit stung. “But if this is going to interfere with my
friendship with you or Sirius, you’d better start talking.”

“Calm down, Jamie,” Marlene said, rolling her eyes. “Nothing is interfering with your friendship
with either of us, because we are still friends. We didn’t have a falling out, we didn’t “break up,”
we just decided not to shag anymore and that’s it. We’re back to what we were before.”

“If you say so,” James replied warily. There was a long pause as they mounted the stairs towards
Gryffindor Tower, but Marlene knew James was still itching to know more about who she fancied.
“So, you don’t want to talk about—”

“No, James.” He took the hint and dropped it.

....

Their exams ended in a bout of unexpected warmth, and all of the sixth years took to the grounds to
enjoy the sun. After all the days of studying, no one had much energy for anything other than
lounging by the Great Lake, swimming and splashing in the shallows, charming their flasks of
pumpkin juice to stay ice-cold, and laughing with their friends before they had to part for the
summer. Now that Lily and James were friends and Marlene and Lily had officially settled their
differences, all the sixth-year Gryffindors savored the last couple of days they had together before
leaving on the Hogwarts Express for the summer. And because Lily had broken up with Davey
Gudgeon weeks before, and Miranda and Layla were each busy with friends in their own houses,
no one else joined their little group.

“I think this is the first day in months that I haven’t had anything that I need to do,” Dorcas
remarked as they walked across the lawn towards their favorite spot by the lake, where the rest of
their friends were already sitting.

“Get used to it,” Marlene said, smiling over at her. “We’ve got two whole months. Though I’m
annoyed that you’re abandoning me.”

Dorcas rolled her eyes. “I’m not abandoning you any more than you’re abandoning me when you
go to Ireland,” she reminded Marlene. “And it’s only two weeks in Spain, then I’ll be back.”

“True enough,” Marlene admitted. “Now that I’ve passed my apparition test, and you’re taking
yours soon, it’ll be easy to pop over anytime. And now that we’re all seventeen, it’s magic galore!
This summer will be brilliant.”

Dorcas laughed. “Remind me to cast Impervious Charms over everything in my house before I let
any of you in it.”

Marlene turned and beamed at her, feeling a random burst of gratitude for Dorcas, as she often did
these days. Dorcas returned her smile, their eyes locking for a moment before Dorcas broke the eye
contact rather hastily, looking back to the path in front of them. Marlene internally swatted her
heart back, telling herself not to be so obvious.

“Are you looking forward to seeing your cousins?” Dorcas asked as they neared the others, who
were sitting in the shade of a beech tree.

“I can hardly wait,” Marlene admitted. “I haven’t seen them in years. Bridget, especially. When we
planned the trip, she wrote to me and said she’d bring me to all the best pubs in Galway. Now that
we can both apparate, our parents will be none the wiser, and we can explore the city to our heart’s
content.”

“You didn’t go into the city much last time you went, did you?”

“No. Well, I was fourteen, so I couldn’t go alone,” Marlene replied. “It was always only when our
parents wanted to go, and they rarely did. But this year’ll be our year. Are you excited for Spain?”

“So excited,” Dorcas replied beaming. “It’s been forever since my mum had time off. Anyway, my
dad’s doing some kind of family research project and wants to visit the places where he thinks our
ancestors originated. As for me, I’m looking forward to seeing Granada. I’ve read that there are
secret rooms in the Alhambra with all sorts of magic hidden in them from before the fall of
Granada to the Christians in the 15th century.”

“Just don’t get turned into an ant or anything by a 14th-century curse,” Marlene said, grinning and
nudging Dorcas’ arm. “It would take quite a while to break, and I have better things to do with my
summer.”

“If you promise not to go into any faerie circles and get abducted,” Dorcas shot back, smiling. “I
don’t want to be cursed by the fae while trying to rescue you.”

“But what if I’m bored?” Marlene joked.

Dorcas rolled her eyes and shoved Marlene playfully. Marlene laughed and made to shove her
back, but Dorcas escaped her, running the short way to their friends before sitting down on the
ground beside Lily in the shade. Marlene, abandoning her chase, took a seat next to Sirius and lay
back on the grass, looking up at the sky.

“Hey, Marley,” Sirius greeted, smiling at her from where he was sitting, twirling a blade of grass
between his fingertips.

“Hey, Sirius,” Marlene replied, smiling and closing her eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her
skin. “Looking forward to the summer?”

“Decently,” Sirius said. “Hopefully James and I will find things to do to entertain us while you and
Dee are gone.” She could almost hear the pout in his voice.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Marlene replied, amused. “You can always invite the other
Marauders over.”

“If Remus isn’t still acting strange,” Sirius muttered, looking over towards where Remus was
sitting next to Lily, reading. Marlene opened her eyes and raised her eyebrows at him.

“Are you still angry at him for what he said last term?”

“No,” Sirius defended. “I don’t care about that. He’s just been acting weird, especially for the past
few weeks. When James asked him about coming over to stay at ours for a while, he muttered
something vague about spending time with his family.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Marlene said again, smiling slightly. She was used to Sirius and
Remus fighting like an old married couple, as they’d had many spats over the years, but they
always made up sooner or later.

Out of the corner of her eye, Marlene could see Dorcas looking over at her and Sirius. Marlene
wasn’t sure if Dorcas knew that she and Sirius were just friends again. Dorcas had told Marlene
that she didn’t care who she was with, or what she was doing with them, as long as she was happy,
so Marlene hadn’t told her about her and Sirius’ change in their relationship. She figured that
Dorcas would hear about it through someone else, like Lily, Mary, or even James. They could
share the news in a far better way than Marlene could, she told herself, because if she was the one
to do it, she worried that she might accidentally tell Dorcas why she’d stopped sleeping with Sirius.

She was interrupted from her thoughts by James, who’d pulled off his shirt and catapulted himself
into the lake. The splash was big enough that they were all sprayed, and when he surfaced, he
shook his hair out like a dog, droplets of water hitting those closest to the shore. Pushing his wet
hair off his forehead, he grinned at them all.

“Come on, get in! It’s nice!”

They all eyed the water with different levels of wariness. “What about the Giant Squid?” Lily
asked finally, looking apprehensively at the lake. James laughed and splashed some water toward
her.

“I seem to remember you saying you wanted to go out with the Giant Squid last year,” he said,
grinning widely. “Now’s the time to make introductions.” Lily had covered her face with her arms
to shield it from the water and now lowered them, glaring at him.

“Over you, yes,” she retorted. “And right now I’m remembering why.”

“Awwww, Lily,” James whined, grinning and walking up to the shore.

 “You’re on thin fucking ice, James,” she said, watching him warily as he moved closer.

“What if I gave you a hug?” James asked, extending his arms and grinning widely. He ran for her,
and Lily yelped and leapt to her feet, trying to escape him. He caught her anyway, wrapping his
arms around her and lifting her off her feet in the biggest bear hug Marlene had ever seen. All the
others were laughing at this point, even as Lily groaned into James’ chest, her face squashed
against him. He finally pulled back after a long moment, beaming down at her, and she glowered
up at him.

“You’ll pay for that,” she said, her voice low and deadly. Marlene watched in amusement as
James’ expression turned from glee to surprise as Lily practically leaped onto him, causing him to
stumble back into the shallows, then topple over into the water. He caught himself with his elbows,
looking at her in surprise as she stood over him, her arms crossed over her now sodden blouse and
a satisfied look on her face. For a split second, he looked completely caught off guard, then in an
instant, his expression flickered into mischievousness, and he grabbed her ankle, pulling her down
into the water, too.

Sirius roared with laughter as Lily let out a little yelp, and fell in next to James. Rising to his feet,
Sirius pulled his shirt off and then ran into the shallows beside them, splashing Lily as she
spluttered, her red hair saturated with lake water. She rose, hair in curtains around her face, and
glared fiercely at both boys.

“I’m going to kill you!” she exclaimed, launching herself at them. Marlene grinned and took this as
her cue to jump in after them, splashing them all as both boys dashed away from Lily.

One by one, the remaining members of their little group entered the lake. Some, like Emmeline and
Hestia, needed no prompting, while others, like Remus, took a while to get in. Remus only rolled
his eyes and relented when James practically soaked him with the power of the splash he sent his
way, though he did join the water fight between Sirius, James, and Lily quite happily afterward.

It felt like an eternity that they spent in the lake that day, swimming around and trying to catch one
another unawares to dunk them or pull them underwater by the foot, laughing as they did so. One
by one, they left the water, forgoing drying spells in favor of the hot sun as they lay out side by
side on the bank. Dorcas’ head rested on Marlene’s stomach while she made flower crowns, as
Marlene talked to Mary and Emmeline about summer plans, stroking Dorcas’ hair absentmindedly,
all while telling herself that this was a very normal, platonic thing to do.

Remus and Lily lay next to each other, smiles on their faces, talking about books while Lily played
with the grass around her. James fell asleep with his arm across his face to shield him against the
hot sun while Hestia and Peter laughed at Sirius’ jokes. When the sun began to set, Remus woke
James and, together, the group set about gathering their things and traipsing back up to the castle
for the leaving feast.

Later, Marlene would remember this as one of the most perfect days of her life, and one of the last
before the war. Frequently she would look back and wish that she could go back to this day on the
grounds of Hogwarts, lying in the sun with her friends, when everything had been so simple.
Sometimes she wished for nothing more than to live in that perfect moment forever. But alas, time
proceeded on unimpeded.

Chapter End Notes

Happy pride month! Enjoy this very gay chapter :) We've moved on to mutual pining!
This is a big moment!
 1977: The Spark
Chapter Notes

cw: unnamed character death

Sixth year ended in a whirlwind of new developments, what with the sudden and unexpected
ending to Sirius’ and Marlene’s trysts, as well as Lily and Davey’s break up the previous month.
Hestia, for her part, had watched all of these events unfold with interest and amusement, as she’d
done for much of what happened in the lives of the people she lived with. Of course, she cared
about them all and cared about what happened to them, but she was sometimes just amused by the
sheer amount of drama her friends managed to get themselves into, and enjoyed being a spectator.

Now that it was summer, Hestia needed to find other ways to occupy her time. Because her family
lived in London, however, she never had to look much further than her doorstep. There was always
something or other to do, and, when she was lucky, people to see, too.

“Hey, tosser,” Hestia called down to Emmeline as she descended the stairs to the street, where her
friend was leaning on the railing. Emmeline started briefly before a wide smile spread across her
face as she saw Hestia.

“Evening, wanker,” she replied. When Hestia reached the bottom of the stairs, both girls grinned at
each other for a moment before enveloping the other in a tight hug.

“I know it’s only been a week,” Hestia said as they began to walk down the street, arms linked
companionably. “But I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever. How hard can it be for you to get
away and see me? We both live in London, remember?” As she said this, she bumped Emmeline
with her hip lightly in a reprimanding way, and Emmeline laughed.

“I was busy catching up with my family,” she defended. “Mum and dad are both a little
overzealous about family time, especially right after I get home, and Noah’s been griping about
being left alone to deal with them while I'm at Hogwarts, so I wanted to make it up to him.”

“Benjamin still galavanting around Europe?”

“Oh, yeah,” Emmeline said, laughing. “He sends postcards. Wanker.” There was no bitterness in
her voice, however, only affection. “How’s your family?”

“Same old,” Hestia returned. “Mum’s been cooking up a storm, which I can’t complain about, as
Hogwarts never has food even close to as good as hers. Dad’s quiet and busy, just like always. I
wish I had a big family that I could have over.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Emmeline said, shaking her head in amusement. “My extended
family is over all the time, and it gets very chaotic. At a certain point, you need to escape.”

“Well, I’ll break you out whenever,” Hestia promised, smiling mischievously. “Where are we
going, by the way?” When they’d made plans for that day, Emmeline had promised to take her
somewhere fun before they retired to Hestia’s to spend the night, but she hadn’t revealed where
they were headed.
“Oh, you’ll see,” Emmeline said, turning a corner and shooting Hestia a sly smile. Hestia narrowed
her eyes, intrigued. They walked for a few more minutes, chatting, until Emmeline stopped,
smiling and staring at the gold embossed sign above a wooden doorway, which read ‘The Drunken
Witch.’

“Is it…?” Hestia trailed off, looking curiously up at the sign.

“Magical?” Emmeline finished, smiling. “Not exclusively. It’s owned by a witch, a friend of my
mum’s from synagogue, but they serve mostly Muggle drinks. You’ll find a few more wizards here
than at a typical pub, though.”

“A friend of your mum’s owns it?” Hestia questioned, raising her eyebrows. “Why would you want
to come here, then?”

“Oh, Edna would never tell on me,” Emmeline assured her, striding up to the door and swinging it
open, allowing Hestia to go inside ahead of her. “She told me that I could drop by anytime.”

Hestia walked into the bar, which was buzzing with customers. The booths along the walls were
lined with people, most of them looking to be in their twenties. One woman who looked up at them
as they passed had bright blue hair, which Hestia marveled at silently when she glanced her way.
Emmeline grinned at Hestia reassuringly and approached the bar, where a Black woman with long,
curly hair was pouring out drinks for a couple. When the couple left to sit in a booth, the woman
turned to look at Emmeline and Hestia, and a wide smile spread across her face.

“Hey, Edna,” Emmeline said, sliding into a bar stool and putting her elbows on the counter, Hestia
sitting down next to her.

“Why Emmeline Vance, I never expected you to take me up on my offer,” Edna said, grinning and
putting her hands on her hips. “Welcome, welcome!”

“Thanks,” Emmeline said, smiling and gesturing to Hestia, beside her. “This is my friend from
school, Hestia Jones.”

“So nice to meet you,” Edna said, extending a warm hand for her to shake, her grip firm and
friendly as Hestia took it. “Now, what can I get for you, dears?”

As Hestia was clueless about Muggle drinks, Emmeline ended up ordering them both a beer.
Hestia looked rather cautiously at hers, not quite sure if she wanted to try it, given the smell, but
Emmeline smiled and clinked her glass with Hestia’s.

“Bottoms up,” she said, winking, and took a large sip. Hestia drank too, and though she first
thought it was disgusting, began to get used to the taste the more she sipped at it. It was much less
tasty than Butterbeer, that was for sure, but she decided that she preferred it to firewhiskey.

Two drinks in, they began to talk to Edna, who asked all about Hestia: her family, what classes she
was taking at Hogwarts, and what she hoped to do afterward. Hestia was almost overwhelmed by
the friendliness of the older woman, and Emmeline just smiled and watched them both. Hestia
supposed she was getting a glimpse into Emmeline’s world outside of Hogwarts, though she found
it rather ironic that Emmeline, the shyer of the two friends, would be the one surrounded by people
when she was at home.

When Edna bade them goodnight, it was eleven o’clock, and she ushered them out half-drunk and
giggling to each other. As she was shutting the door, she told them sternly: “Be safe walking home,
girls. Hands on your wands, alright?”
“Definitely,” Emmeline replied, smiling. “Thanks, Edna. My mum doesn’t need to know about
this, yeah?”

“Your mama has got enough on her plate,” Edna said, shaking her head in amusement. “Good
night, Emmy.”

The walk back to Hestia’s house seemed longer than when they’d walked to the bar, but it was for
the best, as it gave them time to compose themselves before arriving at the Jones’ flat. When
Hestia unlocked the door, her father, Antonio, was sitting in an armchair by the hearth, reading.

“Hello, Emmeline,” he said, smiling up at her, then looking at his daughter. “Are you girls having
a good time catching up?”

“We are,” Hestia said, smiling. She was glad her cheeks were naturally rosy, her eyes usually
bright, and hoped against hope that her father would not be able to tell that they’d been drinking.

“Good,” he said, turning back to his book. “Don’t wake your mother, then.”

“We won’t,” Hestia promised, giving him a smile. “Buenas noches, papá.”

“Good night, Mr. Jones,” Emmeline said, giving him a little wave before following Hestia to her
room. The girls walked solemnly down the hall until they reached Hestia’s room, and shut the door
behind them. Emmeline almost tripped over the threshold, and Hestia caught her, the two stifling
their giggles as Emmeline silenced the room so Hestia’s parents wouldn’t hear their laughter.

....

During the following days, Emmeline and Hestia spent much of their time together, whenever
Emmeline could get away from her family obligations. They went about London as they had in
previous years, exploring parks, museums, and now, as they were older, pubs. It was still a bit
tricky to get some bartenders to serve them, and they knew when they should make themselves
scarce, but they had fun trying, anyway.

One day, a week after they’d first reunited, they were browsing in a shop on Charing Cross Road,
not far from the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley, when they heard a peculiar noise coming from
the street, a bit like an explosion. It was Emmeline who’d heard it first over the music in the store,
and she tore Hestia away from examining a bright red jumper dress that had caught her fancy. As
they approached the front of the boutique, the noises became louder, and they heard, for the first
time, faint screaming. Emmeline and Hestia exchanged a look of alarm, then peered out of the
window. It appeared at first as though there was some kind of riot building in the street outside, but
it was hard to tell what was going on from all the noise. Then, Hestia spotted something that made
her blood turn to ice.

“Look!” she whispered to Emmeline, pointing her finger into the crowd, where she had seen a flash
of green light a second earlier. Emmeline’s eyes followed the direction of Hestia’s pointing finger,
then her hand went out and clenched, iron-tight, on Hestia’s arm. She jerked her down to the floor,
and they both crouched, now looking over the display of dummies in the window, towards the
street outside. Both girls stared, horrified, at the black-cloaked and masked figure who was
walking down the street, wand outstretched. After a moment of horror, Emmeline turned to look at
the shopkeeper, who was just emerging from a rack.

“There’s a riot going on in the street outside,” she said. “You should hide. It looks pretty nasty out
there.” As the woman hastened to grab one of the clothing racks to move it out of sight, Emmeline
shook her head frantically. “Please, there’s no time for that.”
The middle-aged Muggle woman hesitated, as if suspicious of the two girls and their warning, then
looked past them, and, seeming to take in the noise and scene on the street, nodded frantically and
scurried away into the back room. Hestia didn’t dwell on the fact that she hadn’t offered her and
Emmeline a place of safety, as she was already drawing her wand and creeping towards the door,
still low to the ground.

“What are you doing?” Emmeline hissed at her, wide-eyed, catching at her arm. Hestia glanced
back at her friend, stubbornness and determination filling her.

“I’m going to help if I can,” she said.

Emmeline hesitated, then nodded after a moment, her eyes wide with fear but the gleam of
rebellion in them matching Hestia’s. The two girls quickly crept towards the door together and
inched it open. They both surveyed the scene, out of sight of the street, their eyes wide in horror.
Now that they knew what was happening, they couldn’t unsee it. The crowd was milling around,
people running, frantic and terrified. In their midst, walking down the street almost casually were
dozens of hooded, masked figures. Death Eaters. Hestia remembered the name that’d been thrown
around for years, ever since Lord Voldemort had begun terrorizing wizarding society. Still, she’d
never seen them, never imagined what they might look like. Now, she saw that they were faceless
soldiers, nothing but cruelty showing through their twisted metal masks.

Only a few yards away from the door were two large, potted plants, placed decoratively on the
edge of the sidewalk. Emmeline and Hestia exchanged glances and nodded, both of them dashing
out in a split second and ducking behind the pots. Now, they were closer and more able to aim
whatever spells they were thinking of casting to help. Hestia first fired a shield charm between a
Death Eater and his would-be Muggle victim, allowing the Muggle woman to run down an
alleyway and out of sight. Emmeline followed her lead, and they began to shoot spell after spell,
protecting the fleeing people from the hunters going after them. Still, it wasn’t enough. In a pause
between spells, Hestia watched an old man collapse to the ground, hit with a Cruciatus Curse,
writhing in agony before going still. She supposed that his heart hadn’t been able to take it. Next to
him on the ground, Hestia saw the shape of a small body, perhaps a child, and rage tore through
her.

Ducking briefly out from behind her hiding spot, she shot a stunning spell at the Death Eater who
had struck the old man, and the woman fell to the ground. Another Death Eater looked around
frantically for the source of the spell, and his eyes lighted on the place where Emmeline and Hestia
were hiding.

“Fuck,” Hestia swore, realizing her mistake as he began to head towards them, calm purpose in his
manner. “Emmeline, run! We’ve got to go!”

Emmeline looked around, saw the Death Eater hurrying towards them, and didn’t hesitate. She
grabbed Hestia’s arm, pulling her out from her hiding place as they dashed down the streets. They
dodged a curse as they ran, and shouts came from behind them. More Death Eaters had joined in
the chase. Hestia’s lungs felt as if they would burst. She dodged spell after spell coming at her, but
then her foot slid into a pothole on the street, and, yanked onwards by Emmeline’s speed, a hot
burst of pain shot through her. She screamed and fell to the ground, Emmeline rushing to pick her
up.

Hestia looked around to see three Death Eaters advancing upon them, wands outstretched, and a
wave of terror hit her. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and bracing her body for the attack,
but miraculously, the curses did not come. Instead, she heard two soft thumps and opened her eyes,
startled, to see that two of the Death Eaters were on the ground, stiff as boards. The third looked
around, confused, only to be hit in the face with another spell, and he joined his companions on the
ground. Standing over them were two wizards, wands outstretched, eyes steely as they looked at
Hestia and Emmeline, who were crouching on the ground in front of the collapsed men, eyes filled
with shock. Hestia took in the Auror badges only after a moment, and Emmeline, clearly doing so
as well, let out a sigh of relief.

“Are you alright?” the taller of the two asked Hestia and Emmeline, offering a hand to pull
Emmeline up from the ground. Emmeline took it gladly, but as he pulled Hestia to her feet, she
wobbled, unable to put weight on her left foot.

“I think she broke her ankle,” Emmeline said, slinging Hestia’s arm around her shoulders and
supporting her weight. The tall Auror nodded and bent down to examine her ankle. He prodded at
it lightly with his fingers, making Hestia suck in a breath through her teeth, resisting the urge to
scream again, then pointed his wand at the break.

“Episkey,” he said clearly, and Hestia’s skin felt suddenly hot, then suddenly cold. The pain ebbed
from her ankle, and she moved it experimentally. There was a slight pain, but nothing compared to
before, and the bone seemed to be healed.

“You should try to stay off it for a few days,” the Auror said, straightening, and Hestia was able to
properly examine him for the first time, her vision unclouded by pain. He looked to be in his early
fifties, she guessed. His hair was already greying around the edges, and he had an air of authority
about him.

“Thank you,” Hestia said cautiously, looking up at him. He gave her a tight smile, then looked to
the slightly shorter man next to him.

“Get their statements, then come find me,” he said. “The Obliviators should arrive any minute to
take care of the Muggles who witnessed the attack.”

The shorter Auror nodded tersely, then led Emmeline and Hestia to the side of the street, where
they sat down on a bench and began to tell their story. When they finished, he continued to search
their faces, as if suspicious that they were lying to him. They just stared back at him, unsure of
what else to do, until he nodded tersely and rose to his feet.

“Wait!” Emmeline exclaimed as he turned to leave. “How is the Ministry going to explain this?
What will the Muggles think happened here?”

The Auror turned back and gave them a piercing look, making Hestia shiver slightly. She wasn’t
sure if she liked this man. He looked to be in about his mid-forties, with a straight back, strong jaw,
dark brown hair, and dark eyes. Perhaps if he’d been younger, Hestia would’ve considered him
handsome, but she thought that there was something unsettling about his facial expression, or lack
thereof. He seemed indifferent to the scene around him.

“The Ministry is good at covering things up,” he answered finally. “Most of the damage to the
buildings and the street can be repaired, and memories can be modified. When we’re done here, it
will be like nothing ever happened.”

“And the people who died?” Hestia demanded, a snap in her voice. “Can what happened to them
be so easily erased?”

“Not erased,” the Auror said, turning his eyes upon her. “But explained, yes. Heart attacks, strokes,
car crashes...the Ministry will figure out explanations for all of them. Some will be put back in their
homes to be found, others made to look like something else killed them and left on the street.”
“Don’t these people’s loved ones deserve to know how they died?” Hestia said, tears trickling from
the corners of her eyes. “Don’t their bodies deserve some respect?”

“Hestia, you’re not thinking clearly,” Emmeline said, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Look,
I know this is awful. It’s terrible. But it will be a thousand times worse if there’s widespread panic.
This is something the Muggle government and the Ministry are working together to do because it’s
the best for everyone.”

“It’s sick,” Hestia spat at the Auror, ignoring her best friend, tears still streaming down her face.
“You’re all sick.”

“What’s sick is how these people were killed, and why,” the Auror shot back tersely, fixing her
with his piercing dark gaze. “I know my job, and the one of the Obliviators and Magical Law
Enforcement Squad may seem terrible to you, but we’re protecting people. We do what we need to
do, however we feel about it.”

“And do you feel anything about this?” Hestia asked, raising her arm to gesture to the scene before
them. “Because you’re talking like this is just another day on the job.”

“It is another day on the job,” the Auror said, his eyes flicking around to regard the mayhem.
Hestia flinched back, struck by his cold words which nonetheless pierced her heart, as she knew
that they must be true. This was what their world was like, or what it’d be from now on.

“Hestia, Emmeline!” A voice rang through the crowd, and both girls looked around to see a
strangely familiar face hurrying towards them. Hestia was perplexed for a moment, then blinked
and realized that it was not Dorcas, but her mother that approached them through the crowd. She,
like the Auror standing in front of them, was wearing normal robes, not a uniform like the other
Ministry wizards beginning to mill around, but there was a gleaming Auror badge pinned to her
shirt. Her air of authority spoke volumes, and the people around her parted.

“I’m Diana, Dorcas’ mother,” she said, and they both nodded. “Were you two here when the attack
happened?” she asked, concern in her voice as she took in their ragged appearance.

“We were in one of the shops when we heard the noise,” Hestia responded hollowly. “We came
out to see what happened, and to try and help.”

She looked up at Diana Meadowes, only mustering up a bit of curiosity. She’d never met the older
woman before, only seen pictures of her on Dorcas’ bedside table, along with her husband,
Thomas, who Hestia had met briefly before when he’d been dropping Dorcas off at the Hogwarts
Express. As Diana was an Auror, Hestia supposed that she rarely had the time to bring her daughter
there herself.

“How did you know who we were?” Emmeline asked, her brow knitted. Diana’s face broke into a
smile, and Hestia marveled at how much she truly looked like Dorcas. Her eyes, in particular, were
the exact same shape and color as her daughter’s.

“Dorcas has pictures of all of you in her room at home,” Diana said. “She’s told me so much about
you both. I wish I was meeting you under better circumstances.” Then her expression turned back
to seriousness, and she turned to the other Auror. “Moody, I’ll look after these two. Go back and
see if Dearborn needs any more help clearing the rubble.” The Auror named Moody gave a terse
nod, and headed away, back towards the street.

“Now, girls, tell me what you saw here,” Diana said, kneeling down in front of them. Hestia barely
minded that she had to tell the story again; she was in shock, and she felt dazed.
“Everything was normal when we went into the shop,” Hestia explained. “But then we heard
noises—crashes and bangs—and when we looked out, the street was full of people.”

“There were wizards in masks and dark cloaks,” Emmeline broke in.

“Death Eaters,” Hestia added. “Voldemort’s supporters. They were everywhere. And Muggles
were screaming and running, and they were shooting spells at them. There were already bodies on
the sides of the street when we came out.”

“What did the two of you do when you saw this?” Diana asked, her eyes flicking back and forth
between the two of them, her gaze intent upon them.

“We—” Emmeline glanced to Hestia, who returned her gaze shiftily, both of them unsure whether
Diana would admonish them for the actions they’d taken. “We tried to fight back, I suppose. Or at
least protect people.”

“We hid behind the plants in front of the shop,” Hestia explained. “And we fired spells out from it.
Mostly shield spells, to protect the people on the street. And...well, I stunned one of the Death
Eaters.”

“That’s when they realized we were there,” Emmeline explained. “We ran. Then, I suppose, the
Ministry showed up just in time. If they hadn’t…” She glanced at Hestia, swallowed, and looked
down at her shoes. Hestia had a sudden thought.

“I’m sixteen,” she told Diana, her voice frantic. “I turn seventeen later this month. Will I be in
some sort of trouble for the magic I performed, Mrs. Meadowes?”

“No, Hestia,” Diana said, laying a comforting hand on her arm. “What you did was very brave,
both of you, and I commend that. I will say, however, that it was also dangerous and ill-advised.
Neither of you is fully trained yet, and you were greatly outnumbered. If my Dorcas had done what
you had, I would certainly have some stern words for her.”

They both nodded, looking slightly abashed, but Diana did not dwell on the subject. “Thank you
for telling me all of this,” she said. “Now, you girls need to get away from here. Do you live
nearby?”

“We both live in London,” Emmeline said automatically. “My house is closest, only a few streets
over. I can apparate us there, and then take Hestia home.”

“Do you feel comfortable apparating?” Diana asked, giving her another piercing look. Emmeline
nodded, and Diana appeared satisfied.

“Okay, good,” she said. “If you can, send a message to Dorcas so as to let me know you got home
safely. Other than that, I have to ask you not to send any owls about what happened today. We still
don’t know the extent to which Voldemort’s supporters have infiltrated our lines of
communication.”

“Okay,” Hestia said, and Emmeline nodded, too.

“So, it’s official, isn’t it, now? People are taking this seriously, right?” Emmeline asked, looking at
Diana. Diana sighed.

“Yes, it’s official,” she said. “We’re at war. Today’s events have been the spark that, with any
luck, will ignite the Ministry into action, and not a moment too soon.”
 ....

When Emmeline and Hestia left the Aurors and apparated to Emmeline’s house, they were
thoroughly fussed over by Emmeline’s mother, who wrapped Hestia in a blanket when she saw that
she was shaking, despite both girls’ protests.

“Mum,” Emmeline objected. “Hestia needs to get back home. Her parents will be worried soon.”

“Nonsense,” Esther said. “I can send a message to them. You need to take a breath.”

“No, please don’t send a message to them,” Hestia said. “I need to be the one to tell them what
happened.” Esther gave her a long, searching look, then nodded.

“Alright,” she relented. “But stay long enough for some tea, at least.” Relieved by the concession,
Hestia relented. As Emmeline’s mother bustled around the kitchen, Hestia and Emmeline spoke in
low voices to one another.

“Merlin,” Hestia said, sighing. “My dad’s going to go mental.”

“Why?” Emmeline asked, furrowing her brow.

“Oh, you know,” Hestia replied, leaning her head on her hand. She really was very tired. “He
doesn’t like that I want to fight. He’ll be mad I didn’t run.”

“Your parents must know you well enough that they’d know you’d never run from a fight.”

“Oh, they do,” Hestia said. “But I get that from my dad, and he’s going to say that I’ll end up just
like him.”

“Like him?” Emmeline asked, puzzled.

“Running,” Hestia said, looking Emmeline in the eye, her gaze weary. “That’s what he always
says. That he tried to fight in a civil war, and everyone ended up dead around him, so he had to
leave everything behind.” She imitated her father: “There’s no good ending for a soldier, mija. No
one survives war, one way or another.”

“That’s intense,” Emmeline commented, raising her eyebrows. Hestia nodded, and the silence
dragged between them, until Emmeline finally broke it, looking at Hestia with cautious curiosity in
her eyes. “Have you ever gone back to visit Argentina?”

Hestia shook her head, closing her eyes to hide the pain in them. “It’s not safe.”

“You’ve never even met your grandparents?” Emmeline asked, aghast.

“I don’t even know if they’re still alive,” Hestia said. “Two of them were alive when my parents
left, but they didn’t want to come along to England, and we haven’t heard anything from them ever
since.”

Emmeline stared at her, horror evident in her expression as she took in what Hestia told her. Then,
she reached out and grabbed her hand, clasping it in both of her own. Hestia looked up to meet her
dark brown eyes, which were steady on hers.

“That won’t happen to us,” she promised, giving her hand a squeeze. They stayed like that until
Emmeline’s mother brought them their tea, which they both gulped down in a hurry. Emmeline
hastily wrote a note to Dorcas and sent it off with her family owl, and then side-along apparated
Hestia home in silence.

....

Later that night, after breaking the news to her parents about what’d happened on Charing Cross
Road and receiving all the expected tellings-off, Hestia retired to her room. She was exhausted, and
sat down on her bed, putting her leg up on the pillow. It was still slightly sore and felt fragile. She
lifted her pants to her knee and examined the skin on her ankle. It was smooth and soft, with no
indication of the previous break underneath. It was a miracle how well it’d healed. I need to learn
to do that, she told herself, running a hand over the olive skin there.

She lay back on her pillow, looking up at the ceiling of her room, thinking. She needed to fight, no
matter what her parents thought about her decision. But how could she help, really? Once she
graduated from Hogwarts, she’d still only be seventeen years old. What skills could she bring to
resist Voldemort? Hestia was relatively good at dueling, and she vowed to herself to get better, to
practice harder in the coming year. Still, even if she did, many of her classmates were brilliant at
dueling: Marlene, Sirius, James, Dorcas, Lily…What if they didn’t want her as much as they
wanted her friends?

“I’m going to be a Healer,” Hestia whispered into the dark to herself, looking up at the ceiling.
“That way, I’ll be able to help in a way that other people can’t.”

Hestia had been keeping her options open in terms of career, but now it all fit into place. She would
train to be a Healer, and then she’d be valuable. She would fight in more ways than one. She had to
fight. She remembered the old man who had collapsed to the ground that day, twitching and
screaming before going limp, and the small heap next to him, the body of a child. She shut her
eyes, trying to force the images out, but they were still there, burned in the back of her brain.

I have to stop it. That was what she repeated to herself, over and over in her head as she drifted off
to sleep, still in her clothes, curled on her bed towards the wall as if to protect herself. She was
visited by nightmares that night and woke up in a sweat more than once, a scream on her lips.
 1977: Stargazing
Chapter Notes

Disclaimer: In this chapter, I include a definition of bisexuality which is outdated. I

wanted to make it relatively historically accurate to a definition that might’ve been
used in 1977, as discussions about and acknowledgment of the existence of more than
two genders weren’t widespread, even in queer communities, until at least the 1980s,
unfortunately. I would consider a more accurate definition of bisexuality to be
‘attraction to people of two or more genders,’ though everyone experiences their own
sexuality differently, of course, and no one definition will fit everyone who identifies
as bisexual.

“Marls! Hey, Marls!”

Marlene turned to see her cousin, Bridget Connolly, holding up a record for her to see. It was late
afternoon, a few days after Marlene had arrived in Ireland, and Bridget had taken her into an old
record shop in Galway to explore. They’d been going from shop to shop over the course of the
afternoon, and Marlene was incredibly bored by then.

“Yeah?” Marlene asked, approaching her and raising her eyebrows as she examined the record.

“Rolling Stones, they’re all the craic in England now, right?”

“Yeah, they’re good,” Marlene commented. “I prefer Aerosmith, though.”

“Isn’t that an American group?” Bridget asked with a snort, putting the record back into its holder.
“I mean, the British are one thing, but I thought we had some standards here.”

“American rock is good,” Marlene defended, flicking through the record collections herself.
“Sometimes with British bands I feel like they’re gonna tell me to have a cup of tea between tracks.
Americans can’t be bothered with that sort of uptightness. They’re entertainingly vulgar.”

“Jaysus,” Bridget laughed, shaking her head. “You’ve been with the Brits too long. Us Irish don’t
bother ourselves with that stuffiness all the time.”

“So, what are we doing looking around an old records store while the sun is shining outside, then?”
Marlene asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “When you said you’d show me Galway, this isn't
what I was expecting.”

“Cop on,” Bridget said, shoving Marlene’s shoulder. “I don’t want to be out in the sun. My head’s
still in bits after the pub we went to last night. You really don’t need to try and prove you can out-
drink me anymore. I’ve got the message. What you and all your hoity-toity school friends get up to
is beyond me.”

“Bridge, you have no idea,” Marlene laughed, linking her arm with her cousin’s and leading her
unwillingly out into the street. “It’s bleedin’ brilliant, though, I still don’t understand why you
didn’t go. We’d have had the run of the place, and you abandoned me.”

“Oh, stop the lights,” Bridget said, rolling her eyes. “You’re doing just fine there without me.
Anyway, what could I learn there that I couldn’t find out right at home?”

“Well, no one bats much of an eye when you accidentally transplant your hair onto a plant there,
for one,” Marlene said, laughingly referring to an incident that Bridget had told her about in a letter
the previous year as her cousin shoved her. “No Statute of Secrecy to worry about.”

“Ah, I don’t worry nothing about the “Statute of Secrecy” here neither,” Bridget said, doing big,
sarcastic air quotes. Marlene raised her eyebrows at her.

“So you don’t care if Muggles see something they shouldn’t?”

“Nah, not much,” Bridget said, grinning at Marlene’s amusement. “No one pays much attention to
us, not in the country. Not your Ministry of Magic, or the Irish government, or anyone. Perks of
being in an Irish-speaking area is that no one gives a damn. And if someone does see something,
you just blame the faeries.”

“Isn’t that dangerous? You don’t want to upset them, right?” Marlene asked. Bridget only laughed
and shook her head.

“It’s not dangerous to us,” she said confidently. “Me mam says that the faeries don’t care if we
blame things on them, because they’re our friends, us magic folk, so that’s what we always do.
Folks out here believe lots of things, so it’s easy.”

“I suppose that’s one way to do it,” Marlene said, laughing. Bridget gave her an amused look.

“You suppose,” she mocked. “You sound so bleedin’ British sometimes, Marls. It’s amazing,
barely even speaking Irish like the rest of us. I can’t even handle it.”

It was now Marlene’s turn to shove Bridget, and both girls took turns pummeling each other as
they walked down the sidewalk. They stopped briefly at a magazine stand, laughing and browsing
until Bridget looked down at her watch and swore.

“Shit, we should get back soon,” she said. “Me mam said strictly home by six for dinner tonight,
and she’ll skin me alive if I don’t after she heard us creeping in last night.”

“Alright,” Marlene said. “Anything to keep her from telling my mam what we were up to.”

“Oh, I bet she already has,” Bridget said. “But Imogen is nowhere near as scary.”

“She’s got her moments,” Marlene said absentmindedly.

Her fingers had trailed over a magazine on the stand, the curly black letters of the title reading:
Gay News. The cover showed two men, their arms around each other. She scanned the cover,
unfamiliar words popping out at her in the titles of articles. Forgetting that she was in a street full
of people with her cousin next to her, she reached out a hand, about to take the magazine from its
shelf.

“Well, what are you holding me up for?” Bridget demanded, tapping her foot impatiently. “Let’s
go find an alleyway and you can apparate us back, yeah?”

Marlene flinched slightly, dropping her hand and turning away from the magazine quickly, towards
her cousin.

“Why do I always have to be the one to do it?” Marlene asked, her eyes flicking back to the cover
again, then to Bridget, raising her eyebrows in a sarcastic manner that she wasn’t sure was
completely convincing.

“Because I don’t want to end up in the middle of a Bible Study group again,” Bridget whined
sulkily. “There’s only so much you can blame the faeries for.”

“Fine, let’s go,” Marlene said, rolling her eyes.

Bridget smiled triumphantly and turned to make her way toward the nearest shadowed side street.
Marlene hesitated for a split second, looking back at the magazine. She only had a moment to make
her decision. Looking around, she confirmed that the salesman was looking the other way, then
darted her hand out to grab the publication and slipped it into the pocket of her jacket. She had to
fold it to fit, and when she was done, she hurried after her cousin, zipping her jacket up to her chin
as she did so so as to hide it from prying eyes.

That night after everyone in the house had fallen asleep, by the light of a single, dim bulb, Marlene
devoured the magazine, front to back. The more she read, the more she hungered to know. It
wasn’t until one of the last pages that Marlene found out what the word she’d been so curious
about on the front of the magazine meant. Bisexuals, the article read, are people who are attracted
to both men and women… Marlene didn’t sleep a wink the whole night.

....

A week and a half later, Marlene arrived back in England with her family on one of the hottest days
of July. Naturally, this meant that Marlene wouldn’t even contemplate staying at her house in
Oxford, which lacked air conditioning and entertainment, unless you counted her younger brother
Tyler getting stuck in the linen closet when the door had mysteriously locked itself behind him.
Still, her parents hadn’t seemed overly amused by this, so Marlene had decided to pop over to
James’, where there was a pond to swim in and people with far better senses of humor to annoy.

Apparating to the gate of the house on the top of Blacksmith Hill, Marlene quickly opened it,
walked through the front garden, and tiptoed up the steps to the front door of the Potter house. As
she had predicted, it was unlocked, and she smirked, opening it without a sound and creeping
inside, determined to give James and Sirius a fright.

When she walked in, she was taken aback to see not only James and Sirius sitting in the kitchen, but
also the back of a curly dark head of hair that could only belong to Dorcas. The quickening of her
pulse as she saw her best friend was familiar by then, but it felt more jarring than usual, probably
because she hadn’t expected Dorcas’ presence, though she supposed that she should’ve. Once
Marlene had recovered from her momentary heart failure, she cleared her throat, and all three
teenagers started violently in their seats, whipping around to face her. She grinned at them
mischievously, and it was James who recovered first, leaping up with a wide smile on his face to
greet her.

“Marley!” James said, hurrying to give her a hug. “Didn’t expect to see you here. When did you
get back?”

“Just this morning,” Marlene said, hugging him back. “But it’s too hot to stay at home.” She raised
her eyebrows as she suddenly took in the fact that he was shirtless, as was Sirius, who was leaning
against the kitchen counter next to Dorcas, grinning at her. “Which I suppose is also why you two
are half naked.”

“I can be half naked in my own kitchen,” James scoffed, stepping back from her.

“Hey, Marley,” Sirius said, more calmly than James, and stepped forward to give her a hug, too.
When he let go, she turned to look at Dorcas, who was holding back.

“Didn’t expect to see you here, Dee,” Marlene said, giving her best friend a wide, cheeky grin.
Dorcas beamed back at her, bouncing off her stool and stepping forward to embrace her. Her body
was soft and warm against Marlene’s, and despite the heat of the day, Marlene felt like never
letting go.

“I passed my apparition test five days ago, after I got home from Spain,” Dorcas said, her voice
soft and muffled as she spoke into Marlene’s shoulder. “I wasn’t going to spend a sunny day like
this alone, was I?” She pulled back and smiled up at Marlene. “Anyways, I had a feeling you might
come.”

“I’m glad to be back,” Marlene said, grinning down at Dorcas. She felt overwhelmed, as usual, at
the prospect that Dorcas’ smile was for her. After a moment, she realized she was staring, and
looked back around at Sirius and James hastily, breaking the bubble between them.

“So, how was Ireland?” Sirius asked, sitting back down at the counter and stuffing half of the
sandwich he’d been eating when Marlene had arrived into his mouth.

“Bleedin’ brilliant,” Marlene replied. “Me and Bridget were out almost every day, exploring
Galway. I got to spend more time with my younger cousins, too, of course, and that was fun.”

“Is it just me, or did your accent get more pronounced?” Sirius asked, raising his eyebrows.
Marlene rolled her eyes, while both James and Dorcas grinned.

“That always happens when she goes back to the motherland,” Dorcas told Sirius, exchanging a
knowing glance with James, who looked equally amused.

“Yeah, well, I’m aware that over the years I’ve traded some of my Irish accent for a British one,”
Marlene said, giving them both a sanctimonious look. “I’ve adopted the tongue of my colonizers.
You two know it’s all your fault; don’t look so smug.”

“We’re the colonizers, then?” James asked, barely suppressing his laughter as he exchanged
another amused glance with Dorcas. Marlene narrowed her eyes at them both briefly, then laughed
a little, her face breaking into a defeated smile.

“No, I suppose not,” she said. “Sirius definitely is, though.”

“I accept that,” Sirius said through a mouthful of sandwich.

“How was Spain, then?” Marlene asked, turning her gaze to Dorcas.

“Hot,” Dorcas replied. “And beautiful. Granada was definitely my favorite.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t get trampled in some political riot,” Marlene said, grinning.

“I’m sure if you’d have been there, you would’ve gladly joined in on the riot,” Dorcas retorted, her
eyes dancing with laughter. “But no, I didn’t have any close to me. We mostly just went on a lot of
tours. It was fascinating stuff and such a beautiful place. All that old architecture.”

“Sounds amazing,” Sirius said wistfully. “One of these days, I’ll get out of England and see all of
these places, too. I don’t mind the heat, either. I bet I’d do well in Spain.”

“Have you never been out of England?” Dorcas asked him, raising her eyebrows in surprise.
“Nah, never,” Sirius replied, casually dusting the crumbs off his hands. “You’d think my family
being so rich would have some perks, but I spent practically all of my childhood stuck up at our
house in London.”

“Well, now you’re free!” James exclaimed, grinning and spreading his arms wide. “What should
we do today, now that you girls are finally back with us?”

“It’s been way too long since I last played Quidditch,” Marlene said, smiling hopefully. “We could
go up to the enclosure at the top of the hill to practice?”

“Great!” James exclaimed, grinning. “Sirius and I have been practicing nearly every day, but we
could have a little two-a-side match, as well.”

“We might have to knock off earlier than usual because of the heat,” Sirius pointed out. “Maybe
cool off in the pond.”

“How about it, Dee?” James asked, turning to Dorcas and grinning at her. Quidditch was not one of
Dorcas’ favorite activities like the rest of them, but she still enjoyed playing with them from time
to time. After all, she’d been practicing in the Potters’ little enclosure with Marlene and James for
years before they’d entered Hogwarts.

“Sounds good to me,” Dorcas agreed.

Therefore, after Sirius and James finished eating, the four seventeen-year-olds trekked up the hill
together. They picked up their brooms and Quidditch balls out of the little shed next to the
enclosure, where Marlene also kept hers over the summer, as she didn’t have anywhere to play
other than at James’ house, anyway. For the half-hour, they all practiced their own positions
together, Dorcas switching between competing with Marlene for the Snitch—which she actually
beat her for once, much to all of their surprise—and keeping as James practiced his chasing, a role
which she was better at.

When the sun had risen in the sky so that it was directly over their heads, they divided into teams—
James and Dorcas against Sirius and Marlene—and played against each other for about an hour, all
of them acting as Chasers. Much to Marlene and Sirius’ chagrin, James and Dorcas won, partially
due to James’ individual brilliance as a Chaser and partially due to the fact that while Dorcas
wasn’t as practiced of a player as the rest, she and James worked together like a well-oiled
machine, having played with each other since their childhoods. Sirius’ and Marlene’s pride also
worked against them as they insisted they play longer so as to catch up, which served only to allow
Dorcas and James to gain a significant lead on them by the end of the match.

James and Dorcas continued to tease them as they all landed back on the grass, walking back over
to the shed to put their brooms and the Quidditch balls away again. Dorcas rolled her eyes as Sirius
and James got into a slight tussle, wrestling on the ground as Marlene stood over them, laughing.
They only broke apart when Marlene announced that she would race Dorcas to the pond so that
they could swim, and the two girls took off into the trees, the boys haring after them.

They were all hot and sweaty, and Marlene immediately kicked off her shoes and began to strip off
her clothes as she skidded to a stop, panting, at the water’s edge, Dorcas arriving seconds behind
her and doing the same. The boys followed suit as they ran up after them, all four of them stripping
down to their underwear and racing into the cool water, flinching slightly as they made contact
with the cold liquid before diving in completely, rinsing away the dirt and sweat that’d
accumulated on them. As Sirius, James, and Marlene raced each other around the pond, playfully
dunking one another, Dorcas floated on her back, closing her eyes and relaxing. That is, she relaxed
until a large wave came up from behind her and splashed over her head. She turned around and
spluttered indignantly at Marlene, who was treading water and smirking at her. Dorcas launched
herself at her best friend, pushing her under the water as James laughed in the distance.

Instead of surfacing right away, Marlene swam deeper and grabbed Dorcas’ ankle, tugging her
under, too. When both girls broke the surface of the water, they snorted water out of their noses and
laughed together before turning to mount an attack on Sirius and James, who were creeping up
behind them. The four soon got into a large-scale splashing war in the shallows, which eventually
resulted in James being knocked over by a large, magical wave that Dorcas and Marlene sent his
way, causing Sirius to laugh uproariously at the sight of his best friend floundering before a similar
wave knocked him over, as well.

When the sun grew lower in the sky and the light coming through the trees dimmed, the foursome
dragged themselves out of the water and onto the bank. Dorcas and James, complaining of hunger,
headed back through the woods and down the hill towards the Potter house while Marlene and
Sirius remained by the pond, laid out on the grass in their underwear as they watched the sky as it
gradually became darker. They’d assured the others that they’d be back soon but said that they still
wanted to enjoy the remains of the day for a little longer.

“Can I ask you something?” Marlene said after several minutes of silence, rolling onto her side to
look at Sirius. It felt so familiar, now, the sight of him laying next to her, partly clothed and ready
to hear whatever was on her mind. Perhaps that was the reason she’d decided at that moment to tell
him first, or perhaps it was just that he was the first person she was alone with, and she was
bursting to tell someone.

Sirius turned his head towards Marlene, a look of slight curiosity crossing his handsome features.
“Of course,” he said, quirking an eyebrow at her expectantly. She hesitated, trying to choose her
words carefully.

“You’ll always be my mate no matter what, right? I mean...you wouldn’t think any less of me if,
like, I dunno, you found out that I wasn’t exactly who you thought I was?” Marlene asked, her
words hesitant and anxious.

“I mean, it depends, I suppose,” Sirius said, looking at her cautiously, and sitting up to face her
fully. Marlene sat up too, her hands fidgeting in the grass around them. “If you mean that you
hadn’t been completely honest with me, I guess it would depend on what the lie was about. I’d say
that unless you did something unspeakably terrible, I would pretty much always stand by you,
though, Marley.”

Marlene wasn’t sure if this made her feel better or not, but there was no turning back at this point,
not with Sirius looking at her with his piercing grey gaze, suddenly very serious. “I’m still the same
person I’ve always been,” she said, meeting his gaze intently. “And I haven’t lied, not really. I
just...” She paused again, looking down at her hands.

“What is it, Marley? You can tell me anything,” Sirius implored. He reached out and put his hand
over hers. She looked up at him and smiled nervously.

“I like girls, Sirius,” Marley said, her eyes searching his. Sirius’ expression was unchanged for a
moment, his eyes searching her face, then he seemed to take in what she was saying, understanding
that she was serious, and his brow furrowed slightly.

“What do you mean?”

“I like girls the way that blokes like girls,” Marley explained. “I mean, I’m attracted to girls...and
also to boys.” There was another long pause as he took in her words, his eyebrows knitting together
even further. There seemed to be some kind of internal battle in his head.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Sirius said finally, slowly. “I thought you could either like one
or the other, you couldn’t like both?” He didn’t seem sickened by the idea, only confused, and
perhaps a bit conflicted.

“Neither did I, to be honest,” Marlene admitted, eager to continue talking now that she knew that
Sirius wasn’t immediately repulsed. “I didn’t really realize what I was feeling for a lot of years. But
now I see it, and it’s possible, trust me.”

Sirius laughed lightly. “I mean, yeah, obviously, if you’re attracted to both, it’s possible,” he said,
running his hand through his still-damp hair and glancing at her, almost cautiously. Marlene
smiled, her heart slowing slightly from her earlier nervousness.

“I read in a magazine I found in Galway that it’s called being ‘bisexual,’” Marlene said, the word
still feeling foreign on her tongue. “When you like both, I mean.”

Sirius made a slight humming noise in his throat, taking in the information. There was silence for a
moment, as his grey eyes looked unfocused and thoughtful, then he looked at her and smiled. “This
doesn’t change anything for me, Marley. I don’t care who you shag, or love, as long as you’re
happy. It shouldn’t matter to anyone else, either, but I know how fucked up the world is
sometimes.”

Marlene smiled, relieved, and moved to pull him into a hug. “Thank you, Sirius. You’re the first
person I’ve told about this,” she said, exhaling slowly. She felt Sirius smile into her shoulder. After
a moment, however, Sirius let out a snort of laughter.

“What?” Marlene asked, releasing him with a look of confusion.

“Florence fucking O’Connor, that’s what,” Sirius said, chuckling.

Marlene experienced a brief moment of surprise, then let out a loud laugh. She should’ve known
that Sirius would connect the dots on that one. He’d always teased her and James both for years
about being obsessed with Florence. They both ended up on the ground, their heads next to each
other as their laughter gradually died.

“I’m quite flattered that you told me first out of anyone,” Sirius said, looking over at her.

Marley turned her head towards his and smiled, as well. “I fucking love you, you dolt. Anyway, I
just figured...you’d get it, somehow? We spent a year talking about all sorts of things with each
other, and you always got it. I thought it might be easier to get you to understand since we think in
similar ways.”

“That we do,” Sirius said, grinning. “I’m a little shocked you told me before Dorcas, though. You
two are some of the closest friends I’ve ever met, and you know how I am with the Marauders.”

Marlene looked away from him and back up to the sky, trying hard not to blush. “Well, that’s
another issue…I guess I should tell you something else. I sort of lied to you a bit in June about why
I was ending our little arrangement.”

Sirius looked over at her, his head tilted slightly to the side, and smiled. “You dumping me was
related to you being into girls?”

“You can hardly call it dumping when we were never in a relationship,” Marlene deadpanned,
distracted for a moment, rolling her eyes at him.
“Oh, how you mock my pain,” Sirius said in a wounded voice, putting a hand to his heart. Marlene
burst out laughing, rolling around on the ground again until she could contain herself.

“Shut up,” she giggled, trying to catch her breath. “Look, it wasn’t so much about me being
interested in girls, but it was about me fancying a particular girl. It was confusing to be hooking up
with you when I was practically mooning over her.”

“Oh, so, when you said,” Sirius smirked and imitated her voice, “‘I want the whole damn thing,’
you already knew who you wanted it with, eh? Who is she?”

Marlene blushed harder and turned her gaze to meet his. “Guess,” she demanded of him, a slight,
embarrassed smile playing across her lips, her whole face now red.

Sirius narrowed his eyes at her, seeming to think back over her earlier words for a moment, then his
eyes went wide with realization. “Dorcas?!” he demanded incredulously.

Marlene blushed even harder and nodded, chewing on her bottom lip. Sirius seemed to process the
news for a moment, then he began to guffaw loudly, rolling around on the ground in satisfied mirth
at her predicament. Marlene hit him on the shoulder hard, glaring at him.

“Quit acting the maggot, Sirius! I know I’m an idiot, okay? You don’t need to rub it in.”

“I don’t think you’re an idiot, Marley. Dorcas is brilliant, and she’s beautiful,” Sirius said, his
laughter subsiding slightly as he smiled genuinely over at her. “You just wear your heart on your
sleeve, that’s all. I can’t really fault you in that, since I do, too.”

“It’s funny we never fell for each other,” Marlene commented, grinning. “We’re both such soft-
hearted fools, no matter what we tell our friends.”

“I can’t ever imagine falling for you, Marley,” Sirius said, wrinkling his nose slightly as if in
disgust. “You’re too familiar, like my limb or something.”

“And which limb would that be?” Marlene asked, rolling her eyes.

“The big toe on my left foot. Whenever it twinges, I know you’re doing something idiotic so that I
can join you,” Sirius said, with a completely straight face.

“Eejit,” Marlene said halfheartedly, a smile playing across her face. Sirius just grinned back,
nudging her affectionately in the ribs.

“I wish you all the best of luck with Dorcas. I don’t think I’m the best person to be giving you any
sort of advice about any kind of relationships, though, as none of the advice I ever give James
about girls ever seems to work out.”

Marlene snorted in laughter. “I definitely don’t want your advice, Sirius.”

They settled into silence for a moment, Marlene not bothering to wipe the smile off her face as they
both stared up at the sky. “When did you realize that you liked girls?” Sirius asked after a minute,
his voice contemplative.

Marlene shrugged. “I mean, I feel like a part of me has known for forever, but I just found some
kind of alternate explanation for myself whenever I found a girl attractive, like that I was just
jealous of her or wanted to be like her,” Marlene explained, folding her arm behind her head in a
more comfortable position. “It was fancying Dorcas that really woke me up, though. At a certain
point, I realized that the way that I’d felt about her for forever had changed. I would notice little
things that I’d never really registered before, like the color of her lips, the smell of her shampoo, or
how soft her skin is. It took me a little while to accept how I feel about her.”

Sirius paused, then nodded, seeming satisfied by the response. “That makes sense. It makes things
harder, more complicated,” he said, absentmindedly tearing up the grass next to him. There was
another long moment of silence, as Marlene felt her euphoria dim slightly at the reality of the truth
contained in his words.

“You should tell her how you feel,” Sirius piped up again suddenly, looking over at her, the
expression on his face strangely urgent. “I mean, I said I wouldn’t give you advice but...I think
Dorcas would want to know how you felt, even if she didn’t feel the same way about you. And if
she did feel the same way, wouldn’t it be spectacular?”

Marlene smiled sadly and closed her eyes, holding the possibility in her mind delicately, as if it
was a china vase, and she could so easily break it. “Yeah, it really would.”

“You should tell her,” Sirius repeated, even more insistently.

“I wish it was as easy as just saying it. I mean, if you had feelings for one of the Marauders, would
you tell them?” Marlene asked.

Sirius was silent for a long moment, so Marlene had to turn onto her side to look at his face, which
had a resigned expression on it. “Probably not,” he admitted finally when he couldn’t avoid her
gaze any longer. Marlene snorted.

“At least you’re honest,” she said. “Well, you’ll let me know if that ever happens, won’t you?”

“You’ll be the first one I tell,” Sirius promised, a joking note in his voice, standing up and
brushing grass off his pants, then grabbing his trousers off the ground and pulling them on. Taking
his lead, Marlene pulled her shirt over her head and slipped back into her shorts. She slipped her
feet back into her shoes, and he in his, and they walked out of the circle of trees together
surrounding the pool and trudged back down the hill towards the Potter house, where James and
Dorcas were waiting for them.

“You know, I really don’t blame you,” Sirius said when they were still out of earshot of their
friends. Marley looked over at him, perplexed, to find him smirking at her. “I fancied Dee too,
once, in fifth year. She’s really amazing. Plus, she has a nice rack.”

“Excuse me?!” Marlene said, raising her eyebrows dangerously and beginning to advance on him.
“What did you say about my best friend, Sirius Black?” He began to laugh mockingly at her,
backing away. She knew he was just teasing, but she chased him down the hill nonetheless, both of
them laughing by the end.

As they reached the house, Dorcas and James were outside by the firepit out back, both grasping
cold drinks in their hands and laughing together. As Sirius and Marlene rushed up, they turned
towards them, and Marlene recognized the almost imperceptible red flush tingeing Dorcas’ dark
skin that told her that the drink in her hand was likely spiked with firewhiskey or something
similar. Sirius had obviously noticed it, too.

“You two started drinking without us? I’m hurt, Prongs, deeply hurt,” he said, pouting as they
approached, both still slightly out of breath.

“Well, you two took forever, and we got bored. There’s more in the kitchen,” James said, smiling
unashamedly.
Sirius and Marlene raced each other to the kitchen, then Sirius got out two glasses from the
cupboard and poured them both a generous measure of what appeared to be firewhiskey in
lemonade from a pitcher. Going back outside, Marlene plunked down between Dorcas and James
while Sirius sat on James’ other side. Marlene took a sip of her drink, acknowledging with surprise
that it wasn’t half bad. She stuck her hand in the crisp bag that Dorcas was holding and stuffed the
handful into her mouth, suddenly famished.

“So, what took you two so long? Not falling back into old habits, were we?” James asked,
smirking. Sirius whacked him on the back of his head.

“None of that, you ponce, we just lay in the grass for a bit. I think Marley fell asleep. I definitely
heard a snore at one point,” he said, turning his laughing eyes on her. Marlene felt a surge of
affection come over her for Sirius, who, despite being an annoying prat most of the time, she knew
truly loved her.

“Oh, shove it,” Marlene laughed, rolling her eyes.

James, Dorcas, and Sirius all laughed, too, and Marlene took advantage of the moment to look over
to where Dorcas sat beside her. She was wearing a t-shirt tied in a knot around her waist and a pair
of high-waisted shorts, her legs curled up to her chest, her curly brown bangs ending just shy of her
eyeline, and her dark eyes sparkling with laughter. She looked absolutely beautiful in the soft
firelight, so much that Marlene felt overwhelmed by her mere closeness.

Dorcas, feeling Marlene’s gaze on her, turned her head to meet Marlene’s eyes and smiled. Marlene
smiled back, hoping that the shadows hid her blush from being caught staring. She looked away,
across the fire towards the boys, and spotted Sirius failing to contain his smirk as he regarded her.
She rolled her eyes at him, taking a dignified sip from her drink, then looking away from the fire
back up at the hill.

When Marlene turned back towards the rest of the group again, Dorcas’ eyes were still on her, but
she avoided them, addressing James instead. “Do you guys have anything else to eat other than a
bag of crisps?”

“Yeah, Dee and I already raided the fridge,” James said, grinning. “There are some leftovers that
my mum made yesterday in there. Help yourself.”

“Bring some out for me, too?” Sirius asked, giving Marlene puppy-dog eyes.

She rolled her eyes at him, setting her glass down on the table as she rose to her feet and went back
inside the kitchen. Pulling out the Tupperware container with leftover korma, she divided it
between two bowls and grabbed some cutlery from a drawer before heading back out to the fire pit.
Sirius grinned as she handed him his bowl, and she stuck her tongue out at him playfully before
taking her seat again. As she took a bite, she moaned in appreciation, closing her eyes dramatically.

“Your mum is the best cook ever,” she told James, grinning as she began to shovel the food into
her mouth, realizing as she did so that she hadn’t eaten anything since that morning.

“She’s trying to teach me some of the household-y cooking spells now that I’m seventeen, but I’m
pretty hopeless thus far,” James admitted, grinning.

“Cooking the normal way is more fun than cooking by magic,” Dorcas asserted, smiling as she
took a sip of her drink, which was already half-empty.

“You’re one to talk. You’re a horrible cook!” Marlene laughed, rolling her eyes at her best friend.
“True,” Dorcas said, smiling at Marlene in a way that made her heart skip without her consent.
“But I’m a good baker, and it’s much more fun to bake without magic.”

“Well, I like cooking both with magic and the Muggle way,” Marlene said, grinning back. “It’s
quicker with magic, though.”

“I guess you can go both ways,” Sirius said, through his mouthful of food, stifling a snort of mirth.
Marlene had to stop herself from bursting out laughing, too, as she met his gaze.

“You’re a better cook the Muggle way,” Dorcas said, not acknowledging the exchange. “Whenever
you make food for the two of us without magic, it’s better.” Marlene shrugged and rolled her eyes
at her friend.

“You’re just biased because you think it’s the better way to do things.”

“Maybe so,” Dorcas smiled. “You’re a good cook either way, though, Marley.”

Marlene felt herself blush again and quickly changed the subject. “I still can’t believe that you’re
taking seven N.E.W.T.s, Dee. You’re going to be suffering so much next term.”

Dorcas smiled, shrugging. “Well, you three have Quidditch practice and I don’t, and James is
Quidditch Captain, so I don’t think my time will be much more taken up than yours will.”

“I still can’t believe that you’re still taking both Muggle Studies and Care of Magical Creatures to
N.E.W.T.s,” James said, shaking his head in wonder. “I couldn’t imagine handling more than five.”

“I couldn’t let them go,” Dorcas said, pouting. “Muggle Studies is so fascinating, and you don’t
learn about dragons in Care of Magical Creatures until N.E.W.T. level. I couldn’t miss that!”

“True,” James said wistfully. “Sometimes I wish I could have kept Muggle Studies or Arithmancy,
but with Quidditch and—” James broke off as Sirius cast him a warning glance, which Marlene
didn’t understand, but didn’t ask about. “And, well, other commitments,” James amended lamely,
“I couldn’t fit it into my schedule.”

“Dee’s even better than us, too,” Sirius broke in, smiling at Dorcas warmly. “She’s top of every
subject, despite all the work.”

“Not Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Dorcas said modestly, but smiled back at Sirius, looking a
little embarrassed at his compliment. “You three can all out-duel me.”

“Barely,” James laughed. “And not if you’re fired up in any way. Remember that time you came
into D.A.D.A. pissed off at some comment Travers made to Marley? You had me on the floor in
like ten seconds. You beat me a bunch of times in D.A.D.A. last year.”

“Yeah, you could out-duel all three of us blindfolded if you were ticked off,” Sirius broke in,
laughing. “Merlin help the Death Eaters once you start fighting them.” All four of them went quiet
then, sipping their drinks, Marlene and Sirius’ empty bowls sitting on the table.

They hadn’t yet talked about the Muggle attack that’d happened a few days ago in London. Dorcas
had heard of it first, of course, through Hestia’s letter. She hadn’t dared owl Marlene at first, as
Diana Meadowes would’ve surely scolded her for it, but she’d apparated to tell James and Sirius
the news as soon as she could, and by the time they got word to Marlene, she’d already found out
through the Daily Prophet. The attack had sent shockwaves through the wizarding world, and
other wizards were finally beginning to wake up to the possibility of a civil war started by the
blood purists. Of course, with everything going on at Hogwarts over the last few years, none of the
four of them were really surprised, but that didn’t prevent them from feeling the horror of what’d
happened, or the renewed fear of what was to come.

Marlene looked over at Dorcas, a now-familiar feeling of anxiety blooming in her chest, and found
that Dorcas was looking right back at her. The two witches shared a long look, fear for the other
reflecting clearly from blue to brown. Of course, they knew that neither could convince the other
not to fight in the war if there was going to be one, but the prospect of losing one another was too
painful to think of.

“I wonder if Remus will be appointed Head Boy,” Marlene said finally, looking away from Dorcas,
desperate to break the somber silence that’d fallen over the group.

“Who knows,” James said, shrugging. “He says he doesn’t want it, even if he’s appointed.”

“Why not?” Dorcas asked.

“He doesn’t want the responsibility, I think,” James answered, exchanging a look with Sirius.
“Being Head Boy is a lot more work than being a prefect since you have to organize prefect
schedules and meet with the staff and things like that.”

“He doesn’t think he’ll get it, anyway,” Sirius said, smirking slightly. “He says the whole reason
Dumbledore made him a prefect was to get the rest of us under control, which hasn’t really worked
out too well.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Dorcas argued. “You lot were a lot more tame this last year than fifth
year.”

“True, Remus did give us a talking to at the end of fifth,” James said, looking guiltily at Sirius as
he said it. “We’ve gotten better since then.”

“But we still pull a ton of pranks,” Sirius pointed out. “And even though Remus isn’t implicated in
most of them, the teachers know that he’s got to be involved to some extent.”

“Well, as long as it’s not Evan Rosier,” Dorcas said, shuddering slightly.

“Dumbledore wouldn’t choose him,” Marlene reassured her. “He wouldn’t want to give a position
of power to a blood purist right now, which everyone knows Rosier is. If it isn’t Remus, he’ll
choose the Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff male prefect from our year.”

“The stuff Rosier and his gang of Slytherins get up to is much worse than what we do, anyway,”
James said, a dark look on his face. “Rosier might be smart enough not to be caught for most of it,
but all the teachers know he’s involved, just like Remus with our mischief. He’d never be made
Head Boy. I don’t even understand how he was made prefect.”

“Well, I hope for Lily’s sake that she gets someone good to work with, anyway,” Dorcas said. “We
all know she’s going to be Head Girl.”

“She’ll be great, no matter who the Head Boy is,” James said, his expression growing wistful.

“Oh no, he’s going to Lily-land,” Sirius said in a sing-song voice, downing the rest of his drink in
one gulp. “I need to be drunker for this.” Marlene and Dorcas both giggled.

“Oh, shut up,” James said, taking a huffy sip from his drink. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Sureeee,” Marlene said, dragging out the word sarcastically. “I thought you’d escaped the island
of desperate infatuation for a while, but alas, you’re back.”

James flushed slightly as Sirius, Dorcas, and Marlene all laughed loudly and raucously at his
expense. After a moment, Dorcas spoke.

“Speaking of Lily, I was thinking it might be fun to get together with her and the other Gryffindors
sometime this summer,” she suggested. “I know Mary is going to stay at her house in a week or so,
and we could invite them then, since Mary still can’t apparate and Lily can. Emmeline, Hestia,
Remus, and Peter could come too.”

“That sounds great,” James said, perking up immediately. “They could come here!”

“Perfect. I’ll owl them to invite them,” Dorcas promised, grinning and finishing her drink as well.
Her cheeks had grown even more flushed, as they always did when she drank. “Why is it so warm
out still?” she complained, fanning herself with her hand.

“It isn’t,” Marlene laughed, looking over at her affectionately, “You’re just a lightweight, so you’re
tipsy and warm.” Dorcas rolled her eyes at her best friend, fixing her with a challenging look and
quirking her eyebrow in an expression that Marlene, if she were bolder, might’ve interpreted as
flirtatious.

“Well you’ll just have to drink more to catch up with me, then, won’t you?” Dorcas said. Marlene
smiled and headed back into the kitchen to retrieve the pitcher, bringing it out to pour them all
some more alcohol.

“Where are your parents?” Marlene asked James after leaning back in her seat with her fresh glass
of firewhiskey lemonade.

“They’re over for dinner and drinks with some family friends,” James said. “Shouldn’t be back for
a couple of hours.”

“That’s good,” Sirius said, laughing. “Wouldn’t want them to tell Dee’s parents about her getting
completely and totally sloshed here.”

He glanced at Dorcas, whose eyes were closed and who was humming softly under her breath, her
chin tilted up towards the sky. James and Marlene chuckled, looking at their inebriated friend.
Dorcas opened her eyes and gave them all a wide smile, her eyes sparkling.

“It’s such a beautiful night,” she announced with the air of an over-excited toddler, grinning around
at all of them, her cheeks flushed and eyes very bright. James and Sirius burst into laughter.

“You’re adorable,” Marlene said, smiling at her best friend.

Dorcas beamed back, then looked up at the sky, and Marlene knew she must be trying to identify
the constellations from Astronomy class. One of Dorcas’ favorite parts about going over to the
Potters ever since she’d been a child, as Marlene knew well, was that at night she could see a great
many constellations from their place on the hill, even more than from Dorcas’ own house. Dorcas’
favorite pastime when they’d been children, sleeping over at James’, was to sneak out at night and
count the stars, and Marlene would always accompany her, complaining of the cold sometimes and
the darkness at others, but really just in awe of her best friend, who could be on earth one moment
and gliding in the heavens the next. Now, years later, Marlene still wondered at the mere existence
of the girl sitting beside her.

Marlene realized that some part of her was afraid of the beautiful girl sitting next to her, her dark
eyes luminous in the firelight. Perhaps she always had been. Dorcas, with her intensity, with her
desire to look at stars, and the strength of her convictions and emotions, had always inspired a
combination of terror and awe in Marlene. Being next to Dorcas was like sitting next to a star itself,
half-blinded by her brightness but always looking back for more. But what she was really afraid of,
Marlene realized, was not the girl sitting before her, but the strength it took to be her, and the love
Marlene had always had for her. She was afraid of this beautiful, intense girl because all she
wanted to do was be swept up in her intensity and her life, and she was afraid of what that might
mean for her, and what it might mean about her. Now, looking at Dorcas in the firelight, Marlene
understood for the first time that the terror and awe that gripped her at that moment was the same
feeling that she’d felt as a young girl, looking sideways at Dorcas as they lay on the grass together
in the moonlight.

Dorcas finally looked away from the stars and met Marlene’s eyes. In her buzzed state, Marlene
didn’t try to conceal that she was staring, and she met Dorcas’ eyes unapologetically. The smile
that broke across Dorcas’ face was as bright as the stars above, and Marlene smiled in return,
thinking all the while: Merlin, I’m a goner.
 1977: Cokeworth Again

One morning in mid-July in Cokeworth, England, Lily woke with a start. Sitting up and pushing
her long red hair out of her face, she looked around for the source of the disturbance which had
awoken her so suddenly, and almost immediately registered the tap-tap-tapping sound from her
closed window. She hadn’t remembered closing the window, as she usually kept it open during
summer months, both to cool off her second-floor room of the Evans’ house, and also to allow any
owls from her friends to come through without interference. Nevertheless, she stood up, walking
over to the window and reaching up to open it, making her oversized The Beatles t-shirt ride up and
expose a few inches of pale, ample thigh.

As she opened the window wide, Dorcas’ snowy owl, Avellana, fluttered in and went to perch on
Lily’s desk, holding out her leg for Lily to remove the letter attached. Lily stroked the owl’s soft
feathers as she removed the letter, placing it on her bed before pouring some water from her glass
into a small dish on her desk for Avellana to drink from. As the owl stuck her beak in the dish, Lily
sat back down on her bed and opened the scroll, which was full of Dorcas’ curly handwriting.

Dear Lily,

I can’t believe that it’s been only a month since I’ve seen you last. It feels as if it’s been much
longer. A small part of me is jealous that Mary gets to stay at your house for two weeks, even
though it was me who suggested you two spend some time together over the summer. I hope that at
some point you’ll show me the Evans house, and you can visit my house, too! I know you say that
Cokeworth is just dirty and dreary, but I find it difficult to believe it’s all that bad. You grew up
there, didn’t you? There must be beauty somewhere.

Not much is going on with me currently, after coming back from Spain. Marley got back a few days
ago, too, and she’s been speaking almost entirely in Irish slang ever since, so we can’t understand
a word. That always happens when she sees her family, though, and it’s been entertaining to try
and figure out what the hell she’s talking about. Most of the time we spend with James and Sirius is
at James’ or my house, or we head to Muggle London to see a movie or go to a pub. I think you’d
be proud of how well we all handle ourselves in Muggle London, given that we’re all purebloods!
Sirius says that he spent half his childhood around it without his parents knowing, which makes
sense, knowing him.

I was wondering if you and Mary might like to come over during the time that she’s staying at
yours. We were thinking of getting all ten of us together, actually, at James’ house, maybe next
week? Em and Tia say that any day works for them, so let me know if you have a preference! If
Wednesday works, that might be best, as James’ parents are going over to their friend’s house for
dinner, and we wouldn’t bother them. Either way, it should be lots of fun. If you’re hesitant about
seeing James’ house, don’t be! It’s in the middle of nowhere and there’s a pond we can swim in,
which should be fun, but it’s really not all that intimidating.

I’m not taking no for an answer, so just let me know if any day next week works for you (preferably
Wednesday)!

Love,

Dorcas

Lily smiled and folded the letter back up, placing it on her desk and making a mental note to reply
later. She and Dorcas had corresponded for the last five summers, and this one was no different. In
the first two weeks of the summer, Dorcas’ letters had been full of pictures and tales from her
adventures with her parents in Spain, which Lily had devoured slightly enviously. Then, of course,
were the much more somber correspondences between the two girls about the attacks in London.
Dorcas wasn’t the only one Lily had written to about this subject. The day after it’d happened, she
sent a letter to Mary by Muggle post, and the two girls had exchanged a few letters about the
subject. Emmeline and Hestia, too, had written Lily a letter a few days later, telling her all about
what they’d seen in London on the day of the attack.

Despite the fact that the news she’d been receiving was mostly bad, these correspondences made
Lily feel more connected to the wizarding world than she had any other summer. Like it or not, the
impending war had strengthened the threads of friendship that connected all of them. Quite apart
from being friends and roommates, they were also now allies, which was a new thing entirely.

Still, it was Mary who Lily felt the most comfortable speaking about everything with, as they were
both Muggle-borns. Perhaps this was why Mary had rapidly eclipsed Dorcas in the strength of her
friendship with Lily over the course of their sixth year, a fact that Dorcas had viewed, not with
jealousy, but with delight. At the end of the term, she’d suggested that they see each other more
over the summer because, as she’d put it: “You’re the only two who always keep to yourselves
during the breaks!” That was why Mary was to arrive at the Evans’ house that very afternoon, set
to stay for two weeks in Cokeworth with Lily and her family.

Lily stood and opened her chest of drawers and pulled out a pair of soft shorts. Pulling them on, she
made her way down the hall towards the upstairs bathroom, passing her sister’s door, which was
cracked open slightly. Lily could hear soft music emanating from it, but didn’t look to see if she
could catch Petunia’s eye. Petunia had arrived home only a few days ago from her little flat in
London with her roommates. She was just there to visit for two weeks, she said, as she had some
time off from her job as a typist. Amelia had told Lily all about Petunia’s new boyfriend, Vernon,
who they’d met for dinner a month prior when she’d first arrived home for the summer, which led
Lily to joke: “Maybe she’s visiting to get away from him.” Her mother had rolled her eyes, but a
slight smile bloomed on her face.

Lily stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower, then opened the cabinet, grabbing her
hairbrush and pulling it through her long red hair as she glanced briefly at her reflection in the
mirror. Lily thought she looked a good deal healthier than the previous summer’s reflection, which
had gazed back at her out of this very mirror, pale and wan. Now, her cheeks were rounder and
color had returned to them. It was amazing what a difference a year could make.

Once the water was lukewarm, Lily pulled her t-shirt over her head, stepped out of her shorts and
underwear, and into the shower. Although summers in England never got extremely hot, Lily
always felt overheated anyway and hated taking hot showers in the summer months. She showered
quickly and then went back to her room to get dressed, grabbing her wand off her bedside table to
dry her hair with a quick spell. She grinned to herself, relishing the benefits of being of age at last.
Then, she slipped quickly into a t-shirt and shorts and headed downstairs to make breakfast.

When she entered the kitchen, Lily’s mother, Amelia Evans, was already in there, drinking tea.
“Good morning,” Amelia said, smiling as she caught sight of her younger daughter.

“Morning, mum!” Lily responded brightly, opening the refrigerator and taking out eggs and butter,
then popping a slice of toast into the toaster.

“What time is Mary getting here?” Amelia asked pleasantly.

Lily checked her watch. It was a quarter to nine. “She said around eleven.”
“And what are your plans with her for today?” Amelia asked, sipping her tea. Lily shrugged.

“I’m not sure yet,” she said. “We’re planning on going around to London and some other cities and
exploring at some point, but that’s not for today. I might just show her around Cokeworth.”

“It’s so amazing that you can just pop wherever you want,” Amelia said, smiling. “If I could have
done that at seventeen, I could’ve traveled the world without any money concerns. It would’ve
given your grandparents a heart attack.”

“Well, I can’t just apparate anywhere,” Lily said, smiling as she fried up her eggs. “You can’t
apparate too far away in just one trip, or you might splinch yourself. I guess someone could go
further away if they made stops in between, but Portkeys are better for that sort of thing.”

“Fascinating,” Amelia said, looking genuinely excited by the information.

The toaster chimed, and Lily slid her toast out onto her plate just as Petunia appeared in the
kitchen. She walked over to the cabinet to get out a mug and pour herself some tea, eyes resolutely
turned away from her younger sister. Lily rolled her eyes so that neither her mother nor Petunia
could see, sliding her eggs onto the piece of bread and taking a bite as she pushed herself up to sit
on the counter.

“You shouldn’t sit on the counter,” Petunia snapped, shooting a glare at Lily. “It’s unsanitary.”

“Good morning to you, too, Petunia,” Lily said, smiling sweetly as she continued to eat. Petunia let
out a ‘hmph’ sound and didn’t return her greeting.

“Petunia, you remember that Lily’s friend is coming over today, right?” Amelia asked, trying to fill
the uncomfortable silence between her two daughters. Petunia turned away from the sink and rolled
her eyes at her mother.

“Of course I remember,” she snapped. “It’s all she’s been talking about since I got back.”

“Now, Petunia,” Amelia said sternly. “Please be polite to your sister, and to Mary while she’s here,
alright? It’ll be nice to meet one of the people Lily spends time with at school, won’t it?”

“Like I need any more freaks in my life,” Petunia muttered under her breath, so softly that Lily
thought she was the only one who’d heard her. Then Petunia straightened, plastered a small, fake
smile onto her face, and told Amelia: “I’ll try and be polite.”

“Thank you,” Amelia said, sighing as Petunia left the kitchen again, not bothering to say anything
else. She fixed Lily with an apologetic gaze. “I wish I could make her be nicer to you, Lily, but—”

“It’s alright, mum,” Lily said, shrugging slightly and giving her mother a sad smile. “It is what it
is. I think after all these years, we all just need to accept that this is just how it’s going to be
between Petunia and me.”

Amelia frowned. “You deserve more from Tuney,” she said, sighing again. “You should have a
sister who you can be close to, or at least one who doesn’t call you a freak every chance she gets.”

“You heard that, did you?” Lily said, making a face as she recalled Petunia’s earlier words.

“Yes, I did,” Amelia said heavily. “I know it must be hard for you to hear her say those things.
Honestly, if I were you, I wouldn’t be able to keep my mouth shut in those moments.”

Lily sighed, finishing her breakfast and jumping down from the counter, brushing crumbs off her
fingers. “I just don’t see the point in starting an argument every time it happens,” she said, placing
her plate in the dishwasher and going to clean her frying pan. She couldn’t get out of the habit of
doing cleaning and household chores in the Muggle way, even though she knew she could just
whip out her wand and have it clean in a second now.

“I will warn you, though,” Lily said, smiling slightly. “Mary might not take Tuney’s comments
lying down in the way that I do.”

“If your sister’s rude to her, I wouldn’t expect her to,” Amelia said, a worried edge still in her
voice. “You can tell her from me that she has my full permission to be as rude to Petunia as she
likes if she says something horrible to you or her. Petunia can get a taste of her own medicine for a
change.”

Lily sighed and placed her pan in the dish drying rack, turning to look at her mother, who had an
anxious crease between her eyebrows. “Please try not to worry about it, mum,” she said. “I can deal
with Petunia. You know what the doctor said about stress.”

“You listen too closely,” Amelia said, her face falling out of its lines of worry and into a smile.
“It’s my job to take care of you, remember?”

“Sorry, but I’m legally an adult now,” Lily replied, giving her mother a cheeky grin. “That means I
get to take care of you. I don’t make the rules.”

“Well, I suppose there’s not much I can do about that,” Amelia said, laughing and moving to kiss
her daughter on the forehead. “I’m going to go paint. Shout if you need me.”

Amelia disappeared out the backdoor into the garden and Lily made her way upstairs, back to her
bedroom. Lily’s room was a bit of a mess, she noted, so she first went about neatening it, then
pulled out the small camp bed from under her bed. She made it up with sheets and a blanket then
made her own bed. Satisfied, she looked around her room to make sure everything was in its place,
then sat down on her bed and opened the book she’d been working through in the last week, Lives
of Girls and Women by Alice Munro, and began to read.

At eleven o’clock, the doorbell of the Evans household rang twice, and Lily leapt out of her bed,
marking her page in her book and hastily placing it back on her bedside table, then running
downstairs to get the door. As Lily flung it wide, she squealed in excitement to see Mary, rucksack
swung over her shoulder, standing on the doorstep. Lily ran forward to wrap her arms around
Mary, and Mary laughed in surprise as she hugged her back, dropping her bag.

“I guess you missed me,” Mary said, grinning as they pulled away from one another. Lily rolled
her eyes and beckoned Mary to enter the house.

“Of course I’ve missed you,” she exclaimed as Mary grabbed her bag up again and stepped over
the threshold, closing the door behind her. “I’ve been stuck in this house with my sister for only a
few days and I’m already going crazy. You could’ve written me more.”

“You know I’m bad at letter writing, Lily,” Mary said apologetically. “But I’ve missed you a lot,
too.”

“Speaking of letters,” Lily said, suddenly remembering. “I just got one from Dorcas. She wants us
to go over to James’ next week to spend time with everyone. What do you think?”

“Sounds fun,” Mary said, shrugging. “I’d like to see James’ house. I’ve heard about it a lot from
Marlene and Dorcas.”
“I’ll write her back and tell her we’ll come, then,” Lily said. “She said Wednesday would be good.
It’ll be nice to see everyone again.”

Mary murmured agreement, then gave Lily an inquisitive look. “It’s funny,” she said after a
moment. “It’s still strange to hear you call him James, and that you don’t have any qualms about
going to his house now.”

“Oh,” Lily said, taken aback as she realized how little thought she’d given to the fact that it was
James’ house she would be going to. “I suppose you’re right. It is a bit strange.” She let out a little
laugh, and Mary gave her a small, thoughtful smile, then changed the subject.

“James aside,” she said. “Guess what happened yesterday!”

“What?” Lily demanded, noting Mary’s flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes.

“Clem showed signed of magic!” Mary told her, beaming. “I walked into her room when she was
drawing and her crayons were just floating around her, a few inches off the ground.”

“That’s amazing!” Lily exclaimed. “I know it’s not unheard of for Muggle-born siblings to both
show magic, but it’s not very common, either!”

“I was shocked,” admitted Mary, her smile wide and ecstatic. “She didn’t even realize she was
doing it, she just looked up, saw them floating, and got super excited. She says she’s going to be
just like me.”

“It’s especially unexpected given that you’re half-sisters,” Lily said. “Though I guess you could
have some kind of magical genetics from your mum’s side, then?”

“I guess,” Mary said. “It’s amazing to think about Clem going to Hogwarts and experiencing all of
it just like we are. I hope things are better by then.”

“We’ll fight for a better world for Clem to grow up in,” Lily promised, determination filling her
voice, putting her hand on her friend’s shoulder.

“We will,” Mary said, returning Lily’s blazing, determined look. They held each other’s gaze for a
moment, then Mary looked away to adjust the strap of her bag on her shoulder, and the moment
was broken.

“Let me get that for you. It looks about half the size of you, only,” Lily said, taking the bag from
Mary and hoisting it over her own shoulder. “How did you get here, by the way?” Lily asked,
suddenly remembering that Mary was not yet of age and couldn’t legally apparate.

“I took the Knight Bus,” Mary said. “Much quicker than Muggle transport. Not as quick as
apparition, though. I’m still bitter that I’ll be the last to come of age.”

“You’ve only got a month left,” Lily pointed out, smiling. “You’re not much behind Hestia. You
can even take your test before going back to Hogwarts.”

“I’ll probably wait to do it in Hogsmeade, anyway,” Mary said, shrugging. “Paul will want to drive
me to the Hogwarts Express for the last trip. I wouldn’t want to take that away from him.”

“You mean you don’t want to miss the last trip with him,” Lily said knowingly. Mary smiled but
didn’t respond to the assertion.

“Well, are you going to give me a tour of your house?”

“Of course, I thought you’d never ask,” Lily said. “Obviously, this is the sitting room. My mum’s
put her unique touch on it, as you can see,” she said, smiling around at all the paintings of fields
and dried flowers. “She’s probably out in the garden, I’ll introduce you to her after I show you
around. The kitchen’s over there, and my parents’ bedroom is right down here with their
bathroom.” Lily pointed towards a short hallway off the sitting room, under the stairs. “Upstairs is
my room, Petunia’s, as well as our little bathroom.”

They made their way up the stairs, and Lily opened the door of her bedroom first. Her bedroom
was small and simple; she had white wallpaper with wildflowers on it, a bookshelf in the corner
next to her desk, a full-length mirror hanging on the other side of her door, and a couple of
decorations on her wall: one poster of The Beatles, a set of pictures of her and the girls from
Hogwarts, and a painting of the sun setting over a colorful horizon. She set Mary’s rucksack down
on the camp bed, then turned to watch Mary as she glanced around her room.

Mary smiled as she took in everything, no doubt recognizing Lily’s own personal style from her
decorations, which resembled those she had around her bed in their dorm at Hogwarts.

“There sure are a lot of flowers in your house,” Mary commented, gesturing to Lily’s wallpaper
and the vase of flowers on her desk.

“Yeah, that’s what happens when your mother’s a florist and a painter,” Lily replied.

“It’s nice,” Mary said, stepping closer to the painting on the wall and examining it. “Dorcas would
go nuts over your house.”

“Just wait until you see the garden,” Lily said, grinning, and gestured for Mary to follow her.
Petunia’s door was now tightly shut, and Mary only passed it with a curious glance as she followed
Lily down the stairs.

“Come on,” Lily said, looking back at her. “I’ll show you the garden, and you can meet my mum.”

The two girls scampered down the stairs and out the back door. A stone path led away from the
back of the house to the Evans’ little garden. Mary’s mouth fell open as she caught sight of the
flowerbeds. They teamed with life, both short and tall flowers of all different shapes and shades. In
addition, in the two corners of the garden were two little apple trees. There was a small patch of
grass next to the garden shed, though the rest of the garden was full of all kinds of plants, but
mostly flowers. Mary leaned over one of the bushes of small, purple violets and gave them a sniff,
a smile spreading across her face.

“These smell amazing,” she commented, moving on to smell another patch of flowers next to them.

“Lily, is that you?” called a voice from inside the shed, and Amelia Evans appeared, her red hair
pulled up in a messy bun, a splotch of yellow paint on her cheek. Lily smiled at the sight of her
mother, gesturing to her friend.

“Mum, this is Mary,” she said. Amelia Evans beamed at the sight of her, striding over to hug the
other girl.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you. My Lily has told me so much about you!” she exclaimed. “I’m
Amelia Evans.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Evans. Thanks for having me to stay,” Mary said politely, smiling
as she scanned the beautiful woman’s face, and Lily guessed that Mary was searching for the ways
she resembled Lily. Lily sometimes liked to piece them together herself when she looked at her
mother, picking out the features they shared. They had the same nose, eyebrows, the same oval
face and dark red hair. However, Amelia’s eyes were light blue, unlike her daughter’s startlingly
green ones, and her face was lined.

“Oh, please call me Amelia,” the woman said, smiling at Mary, then turning to Lily. “What are
you girls up to?”

“We were just admiring your garden,” Lily said, smiling at her mum. “I thought I would take Mary
around the neighborhood next.”

“That sounds nice. Remember that your father will be back for dinner with all of us and Petunia.”

“We’ll be back by then, definitely,” Lily reassured her. “It’s not like there’s that much to see
around here.”

“Okay, well, I’m going to go back to my painting. You girls have fun,” Amelia said with a little
wave, disappearing back into the shed.

“Your mum’s really nice,” Mary remarked as Amelia disappeared. “What does your dad do,
again?”

“He’s an accountant, so he’s at work now,” Lily said. “Would you want to see the neighborhood?
It’s not that special, but there are a couple of nice spots to spend time at.”

“Sounds fun to me,” Mary said, and the two girls headed out.

Lily walked Mary around her little neighborhood, which didn’t take very long, and pointed out
memorable places such as her primary school, and the park where she and her sister had played as
children. They ended up lying on the grass by the river that divided the Evans’ neighborhood from
the rest of the city, telling each other about their summers so far and relaxing in the sunlight. At
six, Lily declared that they should probably be heading back to the house for dinner, and they got
up, dusting off their clothes and trekking back. When they entered the Evans house again, they
were immediately hit with the delicious smell of something cooking. They took off their shoes and
headed to the kitchen, where Lily’s father had his back to them, standing over the stove.

“Hey, dad,” Lily said, going to hug her father as he turned to greet her.

“Hey, baby girl,” he said, smiling and kissing the top of her head. “This must be Mary?”

“Yes, this is Mary,” Lily said, turning and smiling at her. “Mary, this is my dad, Richard Evans.”

“Very nice to meet you,” Richard said, leaning forward to shake Mary’s hand.

“It’s great to meet you, too,” Mary said. “Lily’s told me lots about you.”

“All good I hope?” Richard smiled sideways at his daughter teasingly.

“Of course,” Mary said, smiling. Again, Lily tried to observe her father through Mary’s eyes,
imagining what would stand out to her friend. Richard Evans was not a very tall man, though he
was several inches taller than his daughter. He had short blonde hair and a friendly face, his eyes
standing out. They were green, just like Lily’s, and warm, surrounded by laughter lines. His face
was long, unlike Lily’s, and his slightly crooked teeth were rather prominent when he smiled.

“Is there anything we can do to help with dinner, dad?” Lily asked.
“No, I don’t think so, honey, but thanks for offering,” Richard Evans said, looking back to the pot
he’d been working over, which held a delicious-smelling red sauce, with a slight air of
protectiveness. Lily couldn’t suppress her smile. She knew that no one in her family would ever
dream of letting her cook, and while her dad didn’t want to offend her, he clearly viewed her offer
to help him with dinner as tantamount to a threat to his precious sauce.

“It’ll be ready soon, though, so if you girls wouldn’t mind setting the table that would be great,”
Richard added.

Lily showed Mary where the plates and cutlery were, and soon the table was set, and Mr. Evans
was calling Petunia and his wife to dinner. They had an overall pleasant meal, where Amelia and
Richard asked about Mary’s family, the classes she was taking, and what she was hoping to do
after Hogwarts. Lily could tell that Mary felt quite at ease with Lily’s parents, probably because
she was used to being surrounded by Muggles, just as Lily was. She got into an animated
discussion with Lily’s father over magical creature sanctuaries, which he found fascinating.

Petunia stayed silent for the whole meal and excused herself before dessert so that she could go
back to her room. Lily was glad that she hadn’t been openly hostile but disappointed that she didn’t
even try to get to know Mary. Regardless, that night, Lily fell asleep feeling extremely grateful for
Mary’s presence in her room. She always felt strange sleeping by herself during the holidays, as she
was so used to sleeping in the same room as five other Gryffindor girls for most of the year. She
drifted off easily that night, her dreams clear and untroubled.

....

Lily experienced the first week of Mary’s stay at her house as a blur of excitement and laughter.
Now that Lily could apparate them anywhere they wanted to go, the two spent many of their days
exploring cities it would’ve otherwise taken them hours to drive to: London, Manchester, Leeds,
and Cardiff. Mary also insisted on exploring Cokeworth and the areas around it, much to Lily’s
chagrin. Still, she found herself enjoying those days, too, once Mary had made it clear that she
didn’t mind the layer of grime over everything in Cokeworth. A week after Mary’s arrival, Lily and
Mary apparated to the address that Dorcas had provided, to meet the rest of the seventh-year
Gryffindors at James’ house. They arrived breathless on the sunny hillside, and both of them stared
around, taking in their surroundings curiously.

They’d landed on a dirt road just outside a gate, which led through a little garden to the front door
of a medium-sized house. It looked to be only two floors and was painted a warm brown color.
Above the house stretched a hillside leading to a patch of thick trees, with no other houses in sight
above it on the hill. Lily was somehow taken aback. Whatever she’d expected James’ house to look
like, this was not it at all. She knew that his family was rich, and therefore she’d expected some
huge mansion, not this beautiful but modest place. She supposed that the Potters owned the land on
the hill behind the house, too, however, and that was quite an expanse.

Still, it was very pretty, and cozy, a house that she could see herself wanting to live in. Mary and
Lily exchanged glances, then Mary put her hand on the gate, swinging it open and walking down
the stone path through the garden to the front door, which had a brass lion-shaped knocker on it.
Lily stuck out her hand to knock, ignoring the knocker and simply striking the wood with her
knuckles several times. As soon as she finished knocking, they heard footsteps from inside coming
closer, and the door swung open to reveal Dorcas’ beaming face.

“You’re here!” Dorcas squealed, wrapping them each in a tight hug in turn. “I’ve missed you both
so much!”

“We’ve missed you, too, Dee,” Mary replied, smiling once Dorcas had released her and stepped
back. “How’ve you been?”

“Good!” Dorcas exclaimed, ushering them inside and closing the door behind them. “Spain was
amazing, of course, and the last two weeks have been nice and relaxing, when James, Sirius, and
Marlene aren’t making me crazy. How about you? I know how Lily’s been because she actually
bothered to write to me,” she said, giving Mary a pointed, playful glare.

Mary only smiled but didn’t get the chance to answer, as when they stepped into the sitting room
from the entryway, they were greeted with a shout of welcome. Lily and Mary looked to see
Marlene racing to greet them, a wide grin on her face, Sirius and James in her wake. She hugged
Mary first, then enveloped Lily in a short, warm hug, too, which Lily was a little surprised by but
happily returned.

“Good summer, Evans?” Sirius asked, grinning at her once Marlene had released her. She smiled
back. The fact that he still called her Evans, even as they were now on good terms, almost felt like
a term of endearment these days. It was only further proof of how much had changed in the past
year.

“It’s been good, thanks, Sirius. How about yours?”

“No complaints here,” Sirius responded. For a split second, they both looked a little awkward, and
it was Lily who made the executive decision to open her arms and move forward slightly. He
looked a bit taken aback but responded in kind. She felt James’ gaze on her as she released Sirius
and stepped back, and she turned her eyes onto him, standing behind Sirius.

It seemed unlikely that he’d truly grown since she’d last seen him, but he seemed impossibly tall all
of a sudden. His hair was also shorter than when she’d last seen it but messy as always. It was
another awkward moment, as they both looked at each other, unsure of what to do. Luckily, Lily
was spared the decision of whether to hug him or not by another knock on the door. James cleared
his throat and moved past Lily and Sirius to answer it, and moments later, they were all greeting
Hestia and Emmeline in kind.

Soon after, another, softer knock on the door sounded, marking the arrival of Remus and Peter.
Lily greeted both boys but hugged Remus with particular warmth. He returned her smile, but she
thought he looked tired and slightly thinner than usual. He seemed a bit taller, too, and Lily
couldn’t help but wonder what was in the water these days that meant she was suddenly surrounded
by giants. When she stepped back from him, Remus’ gaze flicked past her to Sirius, giving him a
smile. Lily tried to pretend she wasn’t looking at them, as she didn’t want to make Remus feel
uncomfortable, but she couldn’t help it. Their hug of greeting was a little cautious on both sides,
she thought, but when they drew back, Sirius grinned at Remus warmly.

“I’m glad you came, Moony,” he said.

They didn’t hold eye contact for very long, but it was long enough for her to register the unspoken
tension between them dissolving before Sirius went to hug Peter, too, clapping him on the back in a
more lighthearted way than he had with Remus. Remus, for his part, was soon enveloped in a hug
with James, but he looked over James’ shoulder to catch Lily’s gaze on him, and she looked away
guiltily.

“I’m taller than you, now,” Remus commented, grinning as he stepped back from James, who
rolled his eyes.

“Sure, by like an inch,” James said. “You’d better stop growing before you reach the ceiling.”
Remus chuckled lightly.
“So, how has your holiday been, Remus?” Lily asked him. He shrugged.

“Not bad,” he said. “Mostly been spending time with my parents and reading. Nothing special.”

“Apparently he’s been too busy to come visit us before now,” James complained in the
background. Remus rolled his eyes and sighed, looking like he was steeling himself to do
something unpleasant.

“Well, you can come over to mine next week to make it up, how about that?” Remus asked. Sirius,
James, and Peter all turned to stare at him.

“Maison de Lupin?” Sirius demanded disbelievingly, his French accent surprisingly good. “You’ve
never invited us over before, not in six years!”

“Do you want to come or not?” Remus asked a bit testily. The three other boys looked around at
each other, taken aback, then nodded. Remus moved along to hug Mary, and none of the boys
prodded further.

After they’d all greeted each other, James showed them a bit around the house, which was as nice
on the inside as on the outside, Lily had to admit. Then he introduced those who hadn’t met them
to his parents, Euphemia and Fleamont Potter, who were sitting outside in chairs. Lily thought they
seemed very nice, but was surprised at how much older they were than her own parents. They bade
Mr. and Mrs. Potter goodbye—James assuring his mother, who’d fixed him with a stern look, that
he wouldn’t wreck the house or drown anyone while they were gone for dinner—and then made
their way up the hill towards the pond that Dorcas had told Lily about in her letter.

Lily fell into step with Dorcas, looking around curiously as she did so, her eyes shaded by her hand.
“Where are we, exactly?” she asked Dorcas beside her, after scanning the hills for any
recognizable landmarks. “I didn’t recognize the town name.”

“Gloucestershire,” Dorcas replied promptly. “We’re just a bit north of Bristol, here.”

“Really?” Lily said, surprised. “I assumed the Potters lived somewhere in the home counties, near
you and Marlene.”

Dorcas laughed. “No, the Potters have always lived a bit further west. James takes pride in
knowing Bristol well since his parents have taken him there a lot over the years. He thinks it
makes him less posh, but he’s not fooling anyone.”

“To be honest, I was expecting something a bit more posh,” Lily admitted.

Dorcas smiled knowingly at her and shrugged. “James’ parents have never been ones for displays
of wealth,” she said. “But I suppose it also depends on how you define poshness. You did see the
library.” Lily laughed, then resumed her examination of their surroundings.

They’d just passed into the woods near the top of the hill, and it was cooler in the shade of the
trees, the light dappled on the ground around them. Lily caught her breath when they reached the
little pond. It was beautiful, like a secret paradise, though it became considerably less awe-
inspiring once Sirius broke the smooth surface by cannonballing into it with a large whoop.

Soon, everyone was laughing and stripping off their clothes to their swimsuits underneath, which
Sirius, of course, hadn’t bothered to do, as he walked out of the pond, drenched, to remove his shirt
and shoes and set them on the bank. Remus, who claimed he burned easily in the sun, didn’t
remove his t-shirt but waded in with it still in place over his swimming trunks. It felt much like it
had on their last day on the Hogwarts grounds at the end of the term, the cool water refreshing.
Still, there was a storm cloud was looming over them that hadn’t been there before the term ended,
and soon enough, they gathered on the bank to discuss the attack in London. Hestia and Emmeline
recounted all they’d seen and all that the Aurors had told them to the whole group this time as they
sat taking it all in, a captive audience. Once they were finished, there was silence, everyone lost in
their own grim thoughts.

“Well, that’s that,” Sirius said finally. Everyone looked around at him, but no one said anything.
They all knew what he meant. They all knew, once and for all, that everything in their lives would
soon change, and that was that.

They didn’t talk about the war again that day, but resumed normal conversation. Dorcas demanded
Mary tell her about staying at Lily’s house, as she said that Lily apparently wasn’t a reliable source
of information. Lily just rolled her eyes as Mary grinned and began to tell Dorcas all about
Cokeworth.

“Is it really dreary and dark?” Dorcas asked, giving Lily a pointed look. Mary shrugged, glancing
over at Lily.

“I mean, it is a bit,” she admitted. “But there are nice places there, too. Lily’s shown me her old
haunts. And her house is really nice.”

“I knew it,” Dorcas said triumphantly, elbowing Lily in the ribs. “I knew you were lying.”

“I wasn’t lying,” Lily protested, spluttering. “I never said it was all bad. You’re hearing what you
want to hear!” Dorcas just grinned and turned back to Mary.

“And how’s Petunia?”

“She’s—um,” Mary trailed off, giving Lily another look, her eyebrows raised guiltily. Lily snorted
out a laugh.

“Mary’s been downright charming to her, alright,” she said, her voice only slightly scolding,
though her smile didn’t show any reproach. “Any time Petunia sends either of us even a nasty look,
Mary has some clever retort.”

“She deserves it,” Mary said defensively. “She’s much nastier than you ever told me.”

“Well, it’s about time she got a taste of her own medicine,” Dorcas said, looking satisfied. “Good
for you, Mac.”

“It is quite satisfying,” Lily admitted. “Mac says all the things I’ve been wanting to say for years,
but I feel as if I’m not allowed to.”

“I’m glad,” Mary said. “I like doing it. I hope your parents still like me, though.”

“Oh, don’t worry about them,” Lily said, laughing and stretching. “My mum said before you
arrived that if Petunia was rude to you, she didn’t expect you to take it lying down. She wears on
them sometimes, too. She’ll be gone soon, though, back to London.”

“Good riddance,” Mary said, a small, mischievous smile playing across her face. “I’m just glad I
don’t have to meet her boyfriend. Based on what your parents have said in passing, he seems like
he makes Petunia look friendly and accepting by comparison.”

“Yeah,” Lily said, grimacing slightly. “Lucky for me, Petunia’ll probably never want me to meet
him if she can help it. He sounds terrible.”
“I’m getting hot again,” Dorcas said, standing up and stretching. “Anyone want to join me back in
the water?”

There was a general murmuring of assent, and half of their little group waded their way back into
the pond, swimming lazily around for a while. After a few moments, Lily turned onto her back,
floating peacefully. She felt a pair of eyes on her and sighed, closing her own. She hadn’t said
much to James since she’d gotten to his house, but she’d felt him watching her with his soft hazel
eyes several times over the past hour or two, his gaze flickering to her over and over as they’d been
sitting on the grass. For some reason, she felt peculiarly unprepared to meet them, despite the fact
that they’d been on very friendly terms when they’d said goodbye at the end of the term.

“Stop staring at me, James,” Lily said quietly, her eyes still closed. James cleared his throat
embarrassedly.

“I wasn’t staring at you,” he said, his voice surprisingly nearby. She opened her eyes and found
that he’d swum over to her and was looking at her sheepishly, treading water. She raised her
eyebrows and he colored slightly.

“I’m alright,” she said. “You don’t have to look at me like I’m going to break. I’m alright.”

“I don’t think you’re going to break, Lily,” James said, smiling slightly. “I didn’t realize I was
looking at you in any particular way.” Lily huffed out a laugh.

“Well, you are,” she said. “I’m okay. I know I’m Muggle-born and the attack was scary to hear
about, but I really am fine.”

“Okay,” James said, his eyebrows raised at her in slight amusement.

“Okay,” Lily returned pointedly, which only made him smile wider.

James paused, looking back at her seriously. “How’s your mum?” he asked after a moment.

“She’s fine,” Lily said, looking away from him briefly before her eyes flicked back to meet his.
She suppressed a shiver. This was the thing she’d been avoiding: him looking at her like that,
reminding her that he knew her now and making her feel vulnerable.

“Good, I’m glad,” James said, his eyes still intent on hers. Lily searched around for another topic
to change the subject to, one which might make her feel less on the defensive.

“How’s Miranda?” she asked lamely. James’ brow furrowed slightly, his expression perplexed.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I haven’t talked to her since term ended.”

“Oh,” Lily said, her cheeks flaming. “I didn’t realize—well, I thought…” She trailed off, wishing
away her blush. Perhaps they’d broken up and no one had told her about it. She knew Mary was
hardly the gossip, but she wished that her friend had told her. It would’ve saved her the
embarrassment of this exchange. James still looked a bit confused, but he was the one to break the
silence this time.

“I suppose we’ll be getting our letters about the new term soon,” he said off-handedly, looking as
though he wasn’t quite sure how to continue the conversation. “You must be excited to hear about
the Head Girl position officially.”

“Oh, I suppose,” Lily said, still blushing a little. “I don’t know if I’ll get it, though. I shouldn’t get
my hopes up.”
“Come off it,” James said, smiling genuinely now. “You’re going to get it. I’d bet my broomstick
on it.”

“Thank you,” Lily said, her cheeks flaming even redder again. When had she become such a
blushing, stammering mess? “I suppose I’ll see. I hope Remus is made Head Boy.”

“If he is, you’ll have to convince him to accept it,” James told her. “He says he doesn’t want the
position.”

“I’ll strong-arm him into it if he gets chosen,” Lily promised, setting her jaw determinedly. “He’s
not leaving me to deal with Andrew Ackerley or Evan Rosier. I suppose George Abbott wouldn’t
be so bad, but Remus would be better.”

“Good luck,” James said, smirking. “He’s stubborn.”

“I’m more stubborn than he is,” Lily assured him. James grinned as if amused by a private joke but
didn’t say anything.

“What, you don’t think I am?” Lily asked, raising her eyebrows as she swam in a circle around him
teasingly.

“I think it’s a very close contest between you,” he said, rotating slightly to continue to watch her as
she moved. “I’ll be curious to know who would win. I’m sure if you two do end up working
together as Heads, that will be a year-long contest. I wouldn’t envy him that.”

“I’ll win,” Lily said, sending a glare his way. James laughed and swam away from her just as a
large splash descended upon Lily from her left, covering her completely in water.

“Dorcas!!” Lily spluttered as she emerged, brushing her soaking locks out of her eyes and turning
on the other girl, who was laughing. Marlene, next to her, had a satisfied smile on her face. “Oh,
you two are going to pay for that one,” Lily said dangerously, already sending a torrent of water
their way.

Only when the sun set beyond the hills did the group finally leave the pond, walking back down to
James’ house with their clothes in their hands, many of them still dripping wet. They dried
themselves off when they reached the house and sat down around the firepit, snacking on crisps
and fruit instead of having a proper dinner. Soon, Sirius had produced firewhiskey from who knew
where, and they were playing a drinking game version of Truth or Dare.

Lily enjoyed herself immensely as she watched her friends do ridiculous dares, the best of which
included when Sirius allowed Dorcas to shave his legs magically, Peter attempted to sing in opera,
and Hestia and Marlene ran topless down the road (Marlene joining just because she thought it was
such a spectacular idea). At half past ten, Lily and Mary bade the rest of the group goodbye,
apparating back to the Evans’ house in Cokeworth. Neither of Lily’s parents were up, so they
tiptoed carefully back to Lily’s room, giggling as they did so before collapsing into their respective
beds and falling asleep almost immediately, tired from both the swimming and the alcohol.

....

All too soon, the last day of Mary’s stay in Cokeworth arrived. Lily had decided to make pancakes
in the morning as a treat, but because she was a terrible cook, she covered half the counter in flour
and was about to add a tablespoon of salt to the batter before Mary came in and avoided the
impending disaster. Mary then ordered Lily to stay out of the way and finished the pancakes
herself, which Lily was quite contented with as she sat on the counter and ate blueberries while
Mary worked. The pancakes were actually quite passable, she thought, though Mary said that there
was something slightly off about them, which she attributed to Lily being unsupervised for the first
phase of cooking. After breakfast, they decided to walk around the neighborhood again, talking
excitedly about their seventh year.

The book list hadn’t come yet, but Lily was sure it must arrive soon, as they needed enough time to
get to Diagon Alley and get their things. She’d promised Mary that she’d do her shopping for her,
as Lily could do it in a day without issue now that she could apparate, whereas Mary usually went
to pick up her things in a rush just before getting on the Hogwarts Express. After they’d walked
once around the neighborhood, Lily and Mary made their way towards the little park that Lily had
shown her the first day they had spent in Cokeworth. When they arrived, Mary moved to sit on one
of the swings and Lily took the other one.

“What’s up, Lily?” Mary asked, turning to give her an inquisitive stare as Lily stared into the
distance with a wistful look in her eyes. Lily turned to look at her, smiling sadly.

“It’s silly,” she replied. “I’m just going to miss you when you leave tomorrow morning. I know it
won’t be long before we see each other again, but it’s just been so nice having you here. I don’t
think I realized how lonely I was during the summers before now.”

“That’s not silly,” Mary said, smiling sympathetically at her. “I’ll miss you, too. It’s been nice to
have someone who knows about magic around for a change. I love my friends back home, but
they’ll never know me in the way that you do.”

“Yeah,” Lily said wistfully. “It’s nice to have someone around who knows who you are.”

She opened her mouth to say something else but stopped and looked curiously towards the bushes
to their left, having heard a rustling sound coming from that area. After a moment, a boy pushed
his way through the bushes surrounding the path on the other side of the little park but stopped
dead when he saw them. His hair was long, dark, and greasy, his eyes almost black, his skin
sallow, and he was skinny and unkempt looking. His dark eyes were now fixed on Lily, who met
them with a look of shock. She hadn’t seen him at all that summer, and perhaps that’d lulled her
into a false sense of security, as she’d never stopped to wonder why he hadn’t been around, trying
to catch her on her own like the previous summer. Now, she wondered.

“Hi, Lily,” Severus said, addressing her before moving his gaze to scan over Mary, his lip curling
slightly in disgust. Mary glared back at him, returning his look of hatred with interest, and Lily had
to put a hand on her arm, worried that she might leap up and attack him.

“Severus,” Lily said, nodding her head slightly in nervous acknowledgment. “Have you had a good
holiday?”

“It’s been fine,” he said, his tone flat. He looked past her to Mary again. “What’s she doing here?”

“She’s staying with my family,” Lily responded, her voice small and flat. Severus met Mary’s
glare as she stood from the swing, not saying or doing anything else, but giving the slight
impression that she was moving to shield Lily from Severus. Severus seemed to notice her stance
and glared at her.

“You think I’m going to hurt her, Macdonald?”

“I’d rather not find out,” Mary said, meeting his eyes steadily, fire burning in her light brown ones.

“I can’t believe you’re friends with her,” Severus said, looking past Mary to Lily, his gaze fierce.
“Why shouldn’t I be friends with her, Severus?” Lily asked, her voice soft, but she still met his eyes
steadily. “She’s just like me, isn’t she?”

“You’re nothing like the rest of them,” Severus said, averting his eyes from Lily’s forceful gaze.

“You’re wrong, Severus,” Lily said, her voice growing stronger now. “Those Muggles that they
killed in London, those people were just like my parents, just like my sister. Were you there?”
Severus let the question hang in the air, not looking at her, so Lily shook her head in disgust,
moving forward to grab Mary’s arm, tugging her away from him. “Come on, let’s go.”

She turned, pulling Mary with her, who cast a glare behind her at Severus. Mary followed her
without a word, the two girls making their way to the edge of the clearing.

“Lily, come on!” they heard Severus call from behind them, but neither Lily nor Mary turned back,
leaving the park and the black-haired boy behind. They didn’t speak as they walked back to Lily’s
house, but once they were a few minutes away from the park, Mary slipped her hand into Lily’s,
the pressure warm and comforting. Lily squeezed back gratefully.

When they got back, both Richard and Amelia Evans were out, and Petunia had left for London a
few days previously, so they had the house to themselves. As it was a nice day, they decided to
lounge in the garden for the afternoon. Lily asked Mary if she had plans for her birthday, which
was in three weeks, and Mary told her of the party that Suzy and Laura had been planning for her,
which they were trying and failing to keep a secret. Still, Lily’s mind was back on the conversation
with Severus, and Mary must have known it, because, after a few minutes, she proposed that they
do something unexpected.

“You know those human transfiguration spells that we learned last year?” Mary asked, propping
herself on her elbows, her long, raven-colored hair falling into her face.

“Yes,” Lily replied, looking at her in confusion.

“Well, I was thinking, wouldn’t it be fun if you changed my hair color? Just for a change, you
know.”

Lily let out a surprised laugh, looking at Mary as if she’d grown another head. If this was Mary’s
plan to distract her, it was certainly working. “What on earth got that idea into your head?”

“I dunno,” Mary said, smiling. “I just thought it might be fun. I mean, I like my hair color, but it
gets a bit boring to always have the same hair color for your whole life, doesn’t it?”

“If you say so,” Lily said, grinning. Mary often surprised her with her little moments of
spontaneity, and this was one of the things she really enjoyed about her friend. To the world, Mary
was shy and quiet, but as Lily had grown to know her better over the course of the past year, she
realized that Mary was also a spitfire with a taste for adventure.

“What color do you want your hair to be, then?” Lily asked. Mary thought for a moment.

“You could try blonde. We can always change it to a different color if it doesn’t suit me.”

“Okay,” Lily said, pulling her wand out of her pocket. She raised her eyebrows as she lifted it.
“Sure?”

“Yes,” Mary said, closing her eyes. Lily smiled and pointed her wand at Mary’s hair, muttering an
incantation under her breath. After a second, during which both Mary and Lily wondered if it’d
worked, there was a small popping noise, and Mary’s hair turned light blonde. Lily clapped her
hands delightedly, and Mary’s eyes popped open. She grabbed a lock of her own hair and
examined it closely.

“Does it look good?” she asked Lily, looking up at her.

Lily smiled at her and conjured a mirror with her wand, handing it to the other girl. Mary broke
into a smile as she examined her newly blonde hair in the mirror, moving it from side to side. “It
looks really good on you,” Lily complimented her, smiling. “Do you like it?”

“It’s great!” Mary said, handing Lily the mirror back, which she vanished with a flick of her wand.
“Thanks, Lily.”

“No problem,” Lily said, smiling teasingly. “It’s a miracle I did it right the first time, actually. I
haven’t performed that spell for months.”

Mary shoved Lily lightly, and Lily laughed. The change in Mary’s hair effectively cheered Lily
and drove thoughts of Severus from her mind, at least for the time being. After an hour or so, Mary
got the idea of baking a cake to commemorate their last day at the Evans’, and Lily helped her by
setting out the ingredients and licking the icing off the spoon to try it.

Dinner that night was fun, devoid of Petunia’s stormy presence. Both Richard and Amelia seemed
sad to see Mary go, as they’d grown fond of her over the past two weeks. The cake was very good,
and both of Lily’s parents commented on how they’d never eaten something that Lily had helped
make that’d turned out so well, much to Lily’s offense. They went to bed early that night, as Mary
was leaving early the next morning to watch her sister while her parents were at work. Lily had
insisted, however, on apparating Mary back to Cornwall, instead of having her take the Knight
Bus, as before.

“Mary?” Lily whispered to her friend after the lights were out. “Are you awake?”

She heard the floorboard creak as Mary got up and climbed into Lily’s bed with her. It was too
warm for the covers, so they both lay on top of them, curled onto their sides and facing one
another.

“What is it?” Mary asked, her eyes shining slightly in the dark, while the rest of her face was cast
in shadows.

“Do you think I’m a bad person?” Lily asked quietly. “For saying what I did to Severus today?”

There was a slight pause before Mary spoke. “Why would you be a bad person for saying what you
did? It was true.”

“I know that,” Lily said hesitantly. “But the way I said it—maybe I should’ve been kinder.”

“Lily, you’re one of the kindest people I know,” Mary said. “Don’t waste it on Snape. He was the
one who ruined your friendship, not you. He called you that horrible word, and you don’t owe him
a thing.”

“He loves me,” Lily admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “I think he’s loved me since we were
children, and I loved him, too, but not in the way he wanted me to. I’ve always tried to be kind
about it without leading him on, but now…” She trailed off, not knowing what to say. There was a
long pause before Mary spoke.

“You’re an easy person to love, Lily,” she said, her voice soft. “But just because someone loves
you doesn’t mean you owe them something. Take James—”
Lily’s cheeks heated, and she hoped it wasn’t obvious in the dark. “James doesn’t love me,” she
denied hastily. “He may have fancied me once, but—”

“We’ve all lived in the same tower for most of the past six years,” Mary interrupted, her tone tired.
“You learn things about people during that time. James fancied you for a while, Lily, and I think
he still does. Anyway, that’s not the point,” she said, hastening on before Lily could interrupt her
again. “The point is, for the whole of fifth year you knew James liked you, but you also knew that
just because he fancied you, it didn’t mean you owed him anything. It’s the same with Snape.”

Lily was silent for a moment, contemplating Mary’s words. Finally, she responded. “But I do feel
like I owe Severus, sometimes,” she admitted. “He introduced me to magic, told me all about the
wizarding world. He was one of my first friends.”

“I know,” Mary said sympathetically, “but he changed since then. And he didn’t do all of that
completely altruistically, he did it because he wanted to be your friend, and you were friends for
years. But you need to be friends with people who make you happy in the moment, not those who
did in the past.”

“I suppose,” Lily said, but she wasn’t fully convinced. Mary sighed quietly, sounding defeated.
Whatever Mary said, Lily thought that she would probably always feel poorly about not being
friends with Severus anymore, no matter how much she knew rationally that she hadn’t been at
fault for how their relationship had ended.

“Just because someone loves you, Lily, doesn’t mean that they love you in the way that you
deserve to be loved,” Mary said after a few moments of silence. “Someone who loves you should
want you to be happy, not just to possess you. Someone who loves you should love the whole you,
not just parts, and tolerate the rest as something that they can get around. Someone who loves you
should have the same values as you and fight for the same causes. They should care about your
family, your community, and your friends, and know that hurting them also hurts you. They should
make you feel happy, and they should never make you feel obligated to love them in a way that
you just don’t.”

Mary’s words, full of conviction and emotion, rang into the silence in the few feet between the two
girls. Mary looked steadily at her, meeting her gaze with a look of sincerity that Lily knew meant
she believed every word. Lily searched her eyes as she took her statement in, and nodded slowly
after a moment.

“Do you think I’ll ever find someone to love me that way, Mary?” she asked, her voice sounding
plaintive and feeling very young. Mary smiled gently, and her expression almost looked sad at that
moment.

“I have no doubt that you will, Lily,” she said. “Like I said, you’re an easy person to love. You
should never accept anything less than someone who loves you in the way that you deserve to be
loved, and someone who you love back with your whole heart.”

“Thank you, Mary,” Lily said softly. “I know you’ll find someone like that for you, too.”

“I hope so,” Mary said quietly. She’d moved back slightly, further into shadow, so that Lily
couldn’t quite make out her expression.

“I know so,” Lily said, assurance in her voice. There was a pause, then Lily added: “We should
probably get some sleep now.”

Mary nodded and got up from the bed, making her way toward her own little cot on the ground.
Lily wanted to say that she could share her bed, but for some reason, she sensed that Mary would
say no.

“Goodnight, Lily,” Mary said as she lay back down, her head dropping onto her pillow.

“Goodnight, Mary,” Lily responded. The dark room fell into silence as the two girls settled into
sleep. Deep, slow breaths filled the room first from one, who drifted off within minutes, and then
the other, who lay awake longer, thoughts churning before she could succumb to sleep.

....

The next morning, Lily woke Mary by throwing a pillow at her from the bed. Mary, who was
usually grumpy in the mornings, looked especially groggy, and it took fifteen minutes of
persuading for her to rise and dress. Lily felt like crying as she watched Mary pack up her things
into her rucksack, then helped her put the cot away. She steeled herself, however, and took Mary’s
hand in hers, turning on the spot as she focused her mind on the address Mary had given her. A
few moments later, both girls appeared, gasping, in a little grassy backyard. The house looked
small, and a bit old, but it also had a certain charm to it.

“I’d invite you inside,” Mary said, smiling nervously, “but I’m sure it’ll be an awful mess. Mum
and Paul don’t often get a chance to tidy up before they get to work.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lily said, seeing that Mary obviously just wanted her to leave quickly. She
smiled sadly and moved to hug Mary goodbye, holding on a bit too tightly for comfort. When the
two girls released each other, they both looked as if they were about to burst into tears.

“See you in a few weeks,” Mary said, smiling sadly at Lily. Lily nodded, and they both stood and
looked at each other for another moment before Lily turned on the spot again, disappearing into
compressing darkness.
 1977: Maison de Lupin

The day the Marauders were to visit Lupin’s cottage in Wales, Remus woke up feeling vaguely
anxious and unsettled. He was roused earlier than usual, aware of the light shining through his
curtains. Rolling over, he fell back into a doze, but the anxious feeling persisted into his brain’s
attempt at dreams, and soon enough, he was fully awake, staring blankly up at the ceiling. He
spent half an hour tracing the small cracks in his ceiling with his eyes before he finally heaved
himself out of bed and dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. It was not usually warm in their part of Wales
during the summer, which Remus was grateful for, as he despised the heat. He preferred cold
weather, when he could bundle himself up in sweaters. He’d never been very comfortable showing
skin, unlike Sirius and James, who seemed perfectly happy with being shirtless around others, or,
in Sirius’ case, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his uniform shirt year-round.

Looking in the mirror in the small bathroom, Remus still sometimes found it difficult to believe
that it was his own reflection staring back at him, even after all these years. It’d always been a
problem for him. These days, however, Remus thought it had more to do with the fact that he still
felt strange peering into the mirror and not seeing the scrawny eleven-year-old boy he’d been
staring back at him than anything else. In this house especially, he still felt young, but the mirror
contradicted him. It reminded him that he was now tall, that his blue eyes no longer looked
abnormally large in his thin face, and that there was now a shadow of stubble on his jaw in the
mornings. Remus wondered if he would ever get used to his own face, or body.

He sighed and splashed his face with water before going about shaving and brushing his teeth.
When he went down the stairs to the kitchen, he found his father already in there, making
breakfast. They greeted each other, then went about preparing food and tea in amicable silence for
several minutes before Lyall Lupin spoke.

“Your friends are coming to visit today, right?”

“Yeah, around noon,” Remus replied.

“Good, your mother is looking forward to meeting them,” Lyall responded. “As am I. It’ll be nice
to put names to faces after so many years.”

There was a slight smile in his voice, and Remus knew that his father was teasing him. It was a
long-running joke in the Lupin household that Remus had never invited his friends over.
Sometimes his parents joked that he’d made them up, other times they said that he was ashamed of
them, and once in a while they’d walk into his room when it was messy and say: “This is why
you’ve never invited your friends over. It’s because you’re afraid they’ll see this!”

For the most part, Remus played along, but deep down, he resented the joke. When he was in a
mood, usually around the full moons, Remus hid in the fields behind their house and ripped up
grass, planning retorts in his mind.

“Maybe if you ever let me speak to anyone my age when I was younger, I wouldn’t be afraid of
having friends over,” he’d mutter to himself. “Maybe if you hadn’t told me to hide every part of
who I am, I wouldn’t feel the need to hide the fact that other people accept me from you.” Still,
Remus never said these things to his parents, and by the time the full moon came and went, he was
always ashamed of himself for even thinking them.

That day, Remus merely rolled his eyes at his father’s words. “Hopefully they won’t disappoint
you after all this suspense.”
“I’m sure I’ll be charmed,” Lyall joked. “Maybe I’ll get them to tell me more about some of the
things you get up to at Hogwarts. You tell us about some of your antics, but I know there are more
stories than you let on.”

“I’m sure Sirius and James will be all too happy to regale you with more of our adventures,” Remus
replied, laughing a little. “I’ll have to warn them not to give away anything too incriminating.”

Lyall laughed and clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder, picking up the tray he’d been preparing
and leaving the kitchen with it. Remus was left to sip his Earl Grey tea and eat his toast, thinking
that he’d have to remember to tell Sirius, James, and Peter not to mention that they knew that he
was a werewolf in front of Lyall.

Another wave of anxiety crashed over him at this thought, much as he tried to brush it away. It
wasn’t as if he didn’t want his friends to see his home, but the idea of them being in the place
where he’d lived for much of his childhood felt somehow wrong. He supposed it had to do with the
fact that, while they’d known about his lycanthropy for years now, the place still felt like it held
secrets. While he’d told his mother that Sirius, James, and Peter knew his secret, they’d agreed to
keep this information from his father, as it’d only cause him unnecessary worry. Remus feared that
if his father knew about how his friends had transformed into Animagi and the way they took him
out of the Shrieking Shack on full moons, Lyall would tell Dumbledore and pull Remus out of
Hogwarts.

There was another thing, too. This house felt full of memories of the old version of himself, which
none of his friends knew: the Remus who’d been alone for much of his childhood, buried in books,
not knowing how to talk to people his own age. Of course, being around James, Sirius, and Peter in
first year had quickly given Remus a social skills crash course, but during the summers, Remus
still sometimes receded back into this persona of an isolated bookworm, forgetting that he had
people other than just his parents to fall back on. Of course, this had changed somewhat the
previous summer, when Sirius’ abrupt departure from Grimmauld Place provided the catalyst for
Remus moving out of his shell.

This summer had been different, however. The letter he’d received from his father two weeks
before the end of the school year had changed everything. All of those years of claiming his mother
was ill, and now it’d really happened. Remus had resolved then and there that this summer would
be spent almost entirely with his family. Hope Lupin had other ideas, however.

After all of the summers of gently suggesting for Remus to bring his friends over, this summer,
she’d insisted on it, and of course, Remus couldn’t refuse her, not this time. Besides, he couldn’t
deny that he missed them. Perhaps it’d been the weeks of distance, but seeing them again at James’
had felt like a tonic. There was a thawing between him and Sirius, too. Perhaps no apology was
necessary after all, and they’d just go back to their normal rhythms. He hoped so. His heart ached
as he thought of having Sirius back next to him, laughing and comfortable, not awkward and
distant. He supposed he’d just have to wait and see what happened that day.

....

Three hours later at the Potters’ house in Gloucestershire, Sirius was still in bed. He’d been laying
there for a while, woken by the sunlight streaming in through his curtains but unwilling to get up,
staring up at the ceiling. This ceiling had no cracks in it, no places where leaks had been repaired,
but it did have several burn marks from when James and Sirius had once set off a firework inside.
Sirius wasn’t looking at them, though. His eyes were unfocused, his mind too preoccupied to even
need a physical source to latch onto.

His mind was on Remus, just as Remus’ mind was on him, many miles away. But, of course, this
had been the case for weeks, ever since Marlene had come back from Ireland. What she’d told him
that day had been far more important than she ever could’ve understood. With a single word, she’d
pulled his head out of the sand. It was ironic that the girl he’d gone to to prove that he was
undeniably straight had been the one to make him face the truth that he was undeniably not. The
word ‘bisexual’ seemed to have opened a door inside of him, one that he’d been trying to keep
closed for a while, and which had now been violently torn off its hinges.

That wasn’t to say that Sirius had found the revelation entirely unwelcome. After the previous year
of denial and tense words with Remus, the realization almost felt like letting out a sigh of relief
after holding his breath for a very, very long time. He hadn’t even realized that it was he who’d
been suffocating himself that time, but when it’d been over, he couldn’t imagine ever putting
himself through that again. The acceptance had been slow, however, and very difficult. Sirius lay
awake many nights, staring at the ceiling, thinking.

He felt as if he had to piece the whole thing together by himself before he shared it with anyone
else. Therefore, Sirius had searched his mind for all the memories he could find related to the
feeling. Slowly, over time, he began to see the whole picture. It told him that around the same time
that he’d begun to notice girls in a particular way, he’d also begun to notice boys. And even more,
it told him that he’d never noticed anyone, boy or girl, quite as much as he’d been noticing Remus
throughout the years. Now Sirius knew that he hadn’t noticed his feelings for Remus in sixth year
because he’d begun to feel them then, but because he’d been burying all the subtle signs for years
until the biggest one had come and smacked him in the face.

These days, Sirius’ dreams took him places that he’d never dared to even think about in his waking
hours, and he always woke up sweating, with the smell of bergamot and wool in his nostrils. If he
was honest with himself, which he was trying to be these days, Sirius would admit that they scared
him a little.

“Padfoot!” The voice came from outside the door, along with James’ quip raps on the door. “Are
you up? We have to head to Remus’ soon!”

Sirius rolled over onto his stomach and buried his head in his pillow, ignoring James. After a
moment, the knocking on the door resumed, even more insistently this time.

“Get up, idiot!” James called into the room.

Sirius heard him trying the doorknob, but knew the door was locked. Sirius locked it every night
out of habit, as he’d been used to doing so to keep both Kreacher and his parents out when he’d
been living in his house on Grimmauld Place. Sirius knew that James could magically open the
door now that they were both seventeen, but he wouldn’t, not unless there was a real emergency.
Sirius was grateful; he liked the feeling that the room was truly his, and he could let people in and
keep them out at his leisure.

Therefore, he took his time rising out of bed and stretching before opening the door, which James
was still knocking loudly and insistently on. James stood in the doorway, a familiar exasperated
expression on his face as he looked down at Sirius.

“Finally, you’re up,” he said, not batting an eyelid over the fact that Sirius was wearing pants and
nothing else. “Get dressed and come down to eat something. We have to go pick Wormtail up in
half an hour.” With that, he left the doorway, and Sirius was left to walk down the hallway to the
bathroom to take a quick shower and get ready.

Looking in the mirror, fresh out of his shower, Sirius examined his reflection. He cursed the late
nights of sleepless thinking: his grey eyes, usually bright, had dark circles under them. He
wondered if there was a potion to remedy that sort of thing. Dorcas or Marlene might know of one,
but they weren’t here. No, it was just Sirius, fussing over his appearance in a way that Marlene
would’ve definitely laughed at him for. He rolled his eyes at his reflection in the mirror and went
back to his room to get dressed.

When he made it downstairs five minutes later, James was lounging at the table, waiting for him.
Several slices of toast were sitting on a plate, and James nodded for him to sit down. “I made you
breakfast,” he said.

“If you can call it that,” Sirius said, raising his eyebrows in amusement as he sat and began to
butter the toast. James rolled his eyes.

“Well, if you wanted some gourmet meal you could’ve woken up earlier and made it yourself.”

“How is it possible that I’m a better cook than you, even though I’ve been fed by house-elves for
almost all of my life?”

James shrugged. “You’re annoyingly good at everything,” he replied. “Don’t ask me to explain
why. You’d think it’d be the opposite, with the inbreeding.”

“You’d think,” Sirius said, grinning and beginning to eat. “And as if you can talk about being
annoyingly good at things, mate. Half the school is jealous of you.”

James shrugged noncommittally. “There are consequences to being good at things,” he said
bitterly. Sirius let out a loud bark of a laugh. James had been feeling sorry for himself ever since
he’d gotten the news that he’d been made Head Boy, only a few days prior.

“Oh, so getting one of the top positions for a student in the school is a consequence, now?” Sirius
asked, grinning broadly. “And getting to spend oodles of time with Lily, the witch you’ve been
mooning over for practically two whole years, that’s also a terrible punishment, is it?”

“Lily’s going to kill me, Sirius,” James whined, frowning deeply. “She’s going to think I
Confunded Dumbledore or something, and she’s going to kill me.”

“I doubt it,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes. “You two are all chummy now. Maybe she’ll be happy
about it.”

“This’ll put me back on her bad side,” James said gloomily. “I’ll be a terrible Head Boy and she’ll
hate me.”

“Oi, don’t be an idiot,” Sirius said. “You’re great at being Quidditch Captain, so you know you’re
good at the organizational bullshit. How different can this be?”

James just shook his head and sighed, and Sirius knew he wouldn’t be able to convince him to stop
sulking. He was milking his distress for all it was worth, and only when he finally got on the
Hogwarts Express and stepped into the role of Head Boy would he be able to stop running around
like a chicken with its head cut off.

“Why do you think Moony is inviting us over now?” James asked, changing the subject. “I mean,
it’s been six years, and we’ve never been there.”

“I don’t know,” Sirius replied, worrying the inside of his cheek with his teeth slightly. The same
question had been occupying much of his mind for the past week. “It’s strange, but he’s like that
sometimes. He never stopped being secretive, even after we found out about his furry little
problem.”
“I suppose,” James said, shrugging. Sirius pushed his chair back, finished eating, and went over to
place his plate in the sink.

“Clean your dishes,” James reminded him, rolling his eyes. “How many times do I have to remind
you? It takes two seconds to do it by magic.”

“I didn’t want to deprive you of the opportunity to scold me,” Sirius said, smirking and pulling out
his wand with a flourish before quickly cleaning the plate and putting it back into the cupboard.
James rolled his eyes but said nothing, checking his watch.

“We should go pick up Pete,” he said. “We have to be at Remus’ in ten.” A jolt of nerves went
through Sirius, but he pushed them down.

“Why couldn’t Wormtail pass his apparition test the first time like us?” Sirius grumbled as they
walked out of the house towards the gate, as James’ parents had placed an anti-apparition spell on
the house.

“Oh, shut it, it takes us only like two minutes more to pick him up,” James said, rolling his eyes.

Once they exited the front garden and closed the gate behind them, James and Sirius both turned
on the spot in unison, disapparating with two small pops and appearing again, seconds later, in an
alley next to the Pettigrews’ house in Bradford. They walked around the corner and passed two
houses before reaching Peter’s, knocking on the door. They only had to wait a couple of seconds
before Peter appeared, as he’d obviously been waiting for them.

“Ready to go, Wormy?” James asked cheerfully. Peter nodded.

“As long as you’re the one side-along apparating me, not Sirius,” he said, shooting a smirk at
Sirius.

“Hey, I take offense to that!” Sirius exclaimed. “I’m great at apparating.”

“You’ve splinched yourself twice,” James pointed out, grinning slightly. “You lack ‘Deliberation,’
mate.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and hurried down the steps back towards the street, James and Peter
following in his wake. Once they reached the deserted alley again, James took hold of Peter’s arm
—who looked slightly nervous, despite his words—and grinned briefly at Sirius before turning on
the spot. Sirius did the same, concentrating on the address that Remus had given them. A moment
of discomfort later, he landed, staggering slightly, and opened his eyes to take in his surroundings.
He was standing on a little dirt road, facing a fence that surrounded a little garden in front of a
small, grey cottage. There were no other houses around for miles that he could see, just a large
expanse of grassland and trees. The air was fresh and slightly cooler than where they’d just left in
England, but still warm. He examined the little cottage before him. So this was where Remus lived.
He wasn’t sure if it was what he’d been expecting or not.

James and Peter, beside him, exchanged a glance before opening the gate and moving through the
little garden to the door of the house. James rapped on the door lightly with his knuckles, and, after
a few seconds, they heard footsteps approaching. The door opened, and Remus stood in front of
them, smiling slightly nervously at his friends. James, Sirius, and Peter all grinned at the sight of
him.

“Hey, Moony!” James exclaimed, pulling him into a hug. Remus laughed.

“Hi, Prongs,” he said. As he pulled back from James, Sirius stepped forward to hug him as well
briefly. Remus smiled at him, too, before hugging Peter, then stepping back from the door to allow
them into his house. “Come in, then.”

They all stepped past the threshold, Sirius looking around as he did so. They’d stepped directly, it
seemed, into the sitting room of the Lupin house. There were a couple of chairs and a comfortable-
looking couch, all sitting around a coffee table. It was a small room, with a few photographs and
paintings on the wall. There was a built-in bookshelf on one wall, filled to the brim with many
tomes, which didn’t surprise Sirius at all. On the left, Sirius could see a small staircase leading to
the second floor, and through the sitting room, he could see the kitchen.

Remus stood in the middle of the room rather awkwardly as he watched his friends look around.
“This is the sitting room, obviously. The kitchen is through there, as you can see,” he said,
gesturing to it with his hand. “My bedroom is upstairs. Come on, I’ll show you.”

He strode up the small staircase, the other boys following him, and opened the door on his
immediate left. His room was small, too, but full to burst with his personality. There were books on
every surface, despite the bookshelf in the corner. It was a bit messy, just like the space around his
bed at Hogwarts. Tacked to one wall was a calendar with the full moons marked.

“My parents have their bedroom up here, too, as well as my father’s study,” Remus said, fidgeting
slightly as Sirius, James, and Peter walked around, examining the things on his wall and his
bookshelf.

“I like your room,” Sirius said, grinning as he looked away from the small window to the front of
the house. “Very you.”

“Thanks,” Remus said, grinning at him. He gestured for them to follow him and made his way
back down the stairs with them in his wake.

“It’s small,” Remus said, looking around at his house nervously as they all stepped back into the
sitting room. “But it’s home.”

“It’s brilliant,” James said, grinning. “It’s lived up to all my expectations.”

“You’ve been thinking about where I live a lot, then, Prongs?” Remus asked, a small grin on his
face.

“Not much, but there’s been quite a lot of suspense over the years, Moony,” James teased. “Now
we finally get the chance to see the elusive residence of the secretive Remus Lupin.”

“Oh, before I forget,” Remus said quickly. “My dad doesn’t know that you all know about my
condition or anything about you being Animagi, so please don’t mention it around him, and no
nicknames.”

James, Sirius, and Peter all looked a bit taken aback, and Remus shrugged guiltily. “It’d worry him
to know that someone else at Hogwarts knows about it. I told my mam, but we agreed that he’s
best off not knowing.”

“Okay, Mo—Remus, no problem,” James said, correcting the use of his nickname quickly, looking
earnest. “We won’t say a word.” Sirius and Peter nodded, too.

“Thanks,” Remus said, looking relieved.

“Is that why you’ve never invited us over before?” Peter asked curiously. Remus made a face and
shook his head.
“No, not really,” Remus said. Then he paused and admitted: “I mean, that might’ve been part of it.
I don’t know.”

“Why now, then?” Sirius asked, echoing the question James had asked in the Potters’ kitchen.

“My mam wanted to meet you all,” Remus said, shrugging. “She’s always wanted to, actually, but
this summer she insisted, and, well...it’s hard for me to say no to her these days.”

Before any of them could ask what he meant, a voice sounded outside the backdoor. “Remus,
cariad, is that you? Are your friends here?”

“Yes, mam, they’re here!” Remus called.

The door opened wider, and Hope Lupin stepped in through it, beaming. Sirius’ first thought when
he saw Hope was that she had an uncanny resemblance to her son. Both of their wavy brown hair,
thin faces, noses, and mouths were the same, though Hope Lupin had brown eyes, not blue ones,
and she was much shorter than her son. After registering their resemblance, however, Sirius was
shocked to see how thin she was, and pale, too. She had prominent dark circles under her eyes and
gave off the general aura of frailty in every movement as she walked over to stand beside her son.
She looked quite ill.

Hope stopped next to Remus, still beaming at the boys before her. “Well, introduce us, Remus,”
she insisted, squeezing her son’s arm beside her. Remus smiled slightly at her.

“Mam, this is James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew,” he said, gesturing to each of his
friends in turn. “James, Sirius, Peter, this is my mam, Hope Lupin.”

“It’s so nice to meet all of you,” Hope said warmly, walking forward to pull each of them into
hugs, one by one. When she hugged Sirius, he could feel how bony her frame was against his, but
the warmth in the gesture was clear. When she pulled back to smile at him briefly, he could see
that up close her brown eyes sparkled with the same look of calculated mischief that he sometimes
saw in Remus’.

“Finally,” she added as she stepped back from Peter, giving her son a teasing glance. Remus
ducked his head, grinning abashedly.

“Well, they’re here now, aren’t they?”

“They certainly are,” Hope said, grinning mischievously at Remus. “It’s wonderful to be able to
put faces to names at last. Remus talks about all of you so often, and I know from Professor
McGonagall’s letters that you are quite the band of mischief makers at school.” Her tone didn’t
sound scolding, however, it sounded rather amused. Sirius could see where Remus had gotten his
rebellious streak from.

“You shouldn’t believe everything Professor McGonagall says about us,” Sirius said, smiling at
Remus’ mother charmingly. “She actually thinks we’re brilliant.”

“I’m sure she does,” Hope said, letting out a light laugh. “Now, where’s your father, Remus?
Lyall!” she called up the stairs, and they heard the sound of a door opening upstairs, followed by
the sounds of footsteps as Remus’ father descended to join the group in the sitting room. Lyall
Lupin looked less like his son than his wife did, except for his blue eyes and his tall, lanky frame.

“These must be the elusive Marauders,” Lyall said, smiling around at them in a friendly way,
though his aura was more rigid than that of his wife. “It’s very nice to meet you all, I’m Lyall,
Remus’ father.” He reached forward to shake Peter’s hand.
“I’m Peter,” Peter said as he shook the taller man’s hand.

“My name’s Sirius,” Sirius said, meeting the older man’s eyes as he shook his hand. While the blue
of their eyes was identical, Sirius felt as if something was missing from Lyall’s that he’d grown
used to seeing in Remus’, but he couldn’t pinpoint what that might be.

“James,” James said, smiling as Lyall reached him last.

Lyall smiled at him. “Potter, right? I met your father briefly once, I believe, when I worked at the
Ministry.”

“He mentioned that to me,” James said. “It’s great to meet you.”

Lyall gestured for them to follow him outside. Hope smiled and took his arm, and he led her out.
“Seems a shame to be indoors on a nice day like this one,” he said. “We don’t get that much warm
weather here, even in summer.”

They followed him outside the little cottage and found themselves looking out towards a great
expanse of grass, interspersed with trees. There were a few houses in the distance, but it was clear
that there was no one for miles.

“Wow,” James said under his breath, his expression awed. “You didn’t tell us that your backyard
was a huge fucking meadow.”

Remus grinned, looking out across the expanse of green. “It’s not our backyard,” he said, rolling
his eyes slightly. “We don’t own it. It’s just part of the countryside.”

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” Hope Lupin said from a little bit away from them, smiling at the boys’
admiring expressions. She gestured for them to sit down at the table next to the house, with a good
view of the meadow. “This is the kind of view that you only get in Wales.”

“You grew up here, then?” Sirius asked curiously as he took his seat.

“Oh, yes,” Hope said, smiling as she sat with her husband’s help. “I lived in Cardiff for most of my
life—that’s where I met Lyall. I’m very glad that he sacrificed his English roots to move to Wales
with me.”

Sirius smiled back at her, then looked back across at the view. Just like with James’ house, the
green expanse of the Lupins’ surroundings exuded a feeling of endless freedom, unlike the stuffy
manor that he’d been trapped in for his childhood. He knew that Remus hadn’t always lived here,
as he’d said that his family had moved around a bit during the first few years after he’d been bitten,
never staying anywhere long enough for people to get suspicious about his behavior and scars.
Sirius assumed that they’d settled here because of its remoteness. He reflected rather sadly that
Remus’ childhood must have been incredibly lonely, even more than Sirius’ own, not interacting
with anyone other than his parents for so many years. At least he’d had parents who loved him.

Soon, Lyall and Hope engaged all the boys in conversation, asking them questions about their
classes, families, and what they’d done over the summer thus far. Hope clucked her tongue
sympathetically when Lyall asked about Sirius’ family, and he explained that he hadn’t spoken to
them since he’d left the previous summer. After that, the conversation turned to their adventures at
Hogwarts, with Sirius, James, and Peter all happy to divulge the stories of some of their better
schemes, telling Hope and Lyall about all the ones that Remus had masterminded as he shifted
uncomfortably in his seat. In return, Hope and Lyall regaled the boys with stories of Remus as a
child, Remus finally putting his foot down when Hope asked Lyall to summon some of his baby
photos from the house.

“Mam, you’re not showing them those,” he said, rolling his eyes and going red.

“Oh, come on, Remus,” Sirius said, giving his friend puppy dog eyes. “I bet you were cute.” Lyall,
James, and Peter laughed as Remus turned an even deeper shade of red, glaring at Sirius, as Hope
watched, a fond smile on her face.

“Maybe we should let these boys catch up on their own, Hope,” Lyall said gently. “You should
rest, anyway.”

Hope nodded and allowed her husband to help her to her feet. She brushed her hand on her son’s
shoulder as she passed him. “It was so wonderful to meet you boys,” she said as she left. “I’m so
grateful to you for being there for Remus all these years.”

James, Sirius, and Peter all smiled at her. “Of course,” James responded, while Sirius said, “We’re
lucky to have him,” and Peter just nodded. Hope beamed at them, then turned and went back into
the house with Lyall behind her. There was silence for a few moments after they went, and it was
James who finally broke it.

“Your mum looks a lot like you,” he said to Remus. “She seems really nice, both of your parents
do.”

“Thanks,” Remus said, giving a small smile. There was another silence.

“Remus, is your mum ill?” Sirius asked bluntly after the pause became unbearable.

“She is,” Remus responded steadily. “She got sick just before the start of the summer, and she’s
been getting worse steadily since then.”

“What is it?” Peter asked, looking at Remus in concern.

“Cancer,” Remus answered, his voice sounding hollow. “Muggles get it all the time, but it can be
quite lethal, and they don’t have a cure. My father’s been brewing some potions to help her with
some of the symptoms, and the side effects of chemotherapy, but it doesn’t look like she’s going to
make it much longer.”

“I’m so sorry, Remus,” James said, Peter and Sirius nodding along. “Why didn’t you tell us what
was happening?”

“I dunno,” Remus said, looking down at his hands, clasped on the table in front of him, and Sirius
felt the urge to take them into his own, but resisted. “I think I just didn’t want it to be real, and
telling you would make it more real. But she said she wanted to meet you, so…” He trailed off,
shrugging, running a hand through his hair in an agitated sort of way.

“I’m glad we met her,” Sirius said, “She seems pretty extraordinary.”

“She’s the strongest person I know,” Remus said, sniffing softly, his head still down so that they
couldn’t quite see his face. “Raising me, dealing with all of the werewolf stuff when she wasn’t
even born into the wizarding world or knowing anything about it, and now this.”

“I guess we know where you get it from, then,” James said lightly, smiling at Remus as he lifted
his head to look at them again, his eyes slightly red. He smiled weakly back at them.

“Thanks, James,” he said. “Let’s talk about something else, yeah? How about your Head Boy
assignment?” He smiled as he said it, his eyes sparkling mischievously. James groaned, putting his
head in his hands.

“I don’t know what Dumbledore was thinking,” he said. “Who in their right mind would make me
Head Boy?”

“Just confirms my theory that Dumbledore is off his rocker,” Peter said, leaning back in his chair
and smirking. Remus rolled his eyes.

“Oh, come on, it’s not that far-fetched,” he said to James. “You have top marks in most subjects,
and people like you. You’re a leader.”

“Yeah, but I only lead people in pranks and planning post-Quidditch match parties,” James said,
giving Remus an incredulous look. “Not in following the rules.”

“That’s not always true,” Remus insisted. “You tutored a couple of younger students last year in
Transfiguration, as well as Lily. And you’re a good Quidditch Captain.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell him,” Sirius grumbled, rolling his eyes as James brightened at
Remus’ words. “I suppose he thinks you’re a more reliable source.”

“A saner one, at least,” Remus said, smiling over at Sirius, whose stomach turned so that he was
unable to keep the pout on his face. He hoped he didn’t look as pleased as he felt.

“Sanity is overrated,” he said, smiling back at Remus, who snorted out a small laugh, his eyes
sparkling at Sirius. Merlin, Sirius thought. Never stop looking at me like that. He felt himself flush
and tried to push it away. Hopefully, none of the other boys would be able to tell.

“Remus knows what he’s talking about because he’s a prefect,” James said. “But that’s another
reason I shouldn’t be Head Boy! I was never made a prefect. You deserve it more than I do.”

Remus chuckled. “I already told you, James, I don’t want it. It’s a lot of responsibility, and I have
enough on my plate with just being a prefect and with N.E.W.T.s.”

“Lily’s going to kill me when she finds out,” James sighed, repeating his earlier sentiment.

Sirius let out a laugh like a bark. “You’ll survive whatever happens,” he said, sounding less than
reassuring. “You’ve been hexed by Evans loads of times, and it’s always been fine.” James did not
respond, only shuddered slightly. The other three boys laughed.

“Yeah, we’ll patch you up afterward if we need to,” Peter joked, and they all laughed again while
James groaned, putting his head in his hands.

“Don’t worry, James,” Remus said. “I’ll write to Lily to tell her about your appointment if you like.
Maybe knowing beforehand will curb her murderous tendencies.”

James groaned again, then raised his head from his hands. “Maybe that’s a good idea,” he said.
Then he sighed again, shaking his head. “No, I’d rather tell her myself, actually. I’ll owl her.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows, shocked. “And endanger Edelweiss?”

“Well, I thought I’d ask to borrow Caspian,” James said hopefully. Sirius laughed.

“You wish,” he replied. “You’re on your own for this one, mate. Good luck.”

“It’ll be fine,” Remus said. “Probably the best thing, anyway. Best to interact with her personally.”
“Yeah,” Peter said, snickering. “If you send an envoy, she’ll know you’re scared.”

“I think my fear of her is reasonable,” James defended. “She’s like a sleeping dragon. Temper just
below the surface.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Remus said, an amused smile curving his lips upward as his gaze settled on
Sirius, who again felt heat rising in his cheeks. “You’ve been dealing with Sirius for years.
Sometimes tickling a sleeping dragon works wonders.”

Sirius’ grey eyes met Remus’ blue ones, and Sirius knew then that it was all alright. For all their
distance in sixth year, the next year would be different for them. Perhaps they’d yelled at each
other, both said things they didn’t mean, and clearly there were still secrets between them, but
Sirius felt at home right then, Remus smiling at him with a teasing glint in his eyes, and he melted
into the feeling, resistance leaving him.

....

Hours later, after he’d said goodbye to James, Sirius, and Peter, Remus stood in the little kitchen,
cleaning the dishes after dinner. Hope entered behind him as he cleaned a pan and grabbed a plate
to wash. He looked over at her, startled, not hearing her enter.

“Mam, stop, I’ve got it,” he said, wresting the plate from her hands and setting it back in the sink.
She smiled at him, crossing her arms as she leaned against the counter to watch him.

“Your friends all seem like nice young men,” she said. Remus felt a small smile bloom on his lips.

“I’m glad you liked them,” he said. “I can assure you that they were on their best behavior today.
You probably wouldn’t say that if you met them at Hogwarts.”

“Well, they did tell me a great deal about your doings at Hogwarts,” Hope said, laughing. “I’m
glad that you’ve been having fun all these years as well as getting good marks.”

Remus smirked, still facing away from her as he cleaned. “They’re a bad influence on me, what
can I say?”

Hope made a small, skeptical humming noise in her throat that indicated her disbelief at his
statement. There was silence in the kitchen for a minute, except for the sounds of Remus scrubbing
the pan clean.

“Quite a charmer, that Sirius,” Hope said after a moment. Remus didn’t look to see her expression
but focused on his hands in front of him.

“Yes, Sirius and James are both very popular at Hogwarts,” he responded. “They know how to get
people to like them, alright. Well, except for James constantly striking out with Lily in the past,”
he said, snorting with laughter. His mother chuckled softly from behind him.

“They’re both handsome boys, especially Sirius,” she commented. After a moment’s pause, where
Remus felt like he was expected to respond, he made a small, noncommittal noise in his throat.
Hope continued. “Are either of them dating anyone?”

“No, not now,” Remus responded, wondering why on earth his mother wanted to know this
information. “Sirius was sort of with our friend Marlene last year, but they broke it off before the
summer.”

“I think you’ve mentioned Marlene before,” Hope said pensively. “Was it a bad breakup?”
“No,” Remus said, feeling a bit awkward trying to explain Sirius and Marlene’s relationship to his
mother. “It wasn’t exactly a breakup. They were never really serious. They’re still good friends.”

“Oh, so that sort of thing,” Hope said, her tone amused. Remus flushed red and was glad he didn’t
have to look at her then. “And you? I’ve never heard you talk about anyone in that way.” Remus
turned and gave his mother an incredulous look. They’d never talked about this sort of thing
together; not ever in his life had they discussed his love life or lack thereof. She smiled at him
innocently. “Humor me.”

“Well, that’s because there’s no one I’m interested in,” he said, turning back to the dishes, still very
red.

“No one at all?” Hope asked, sounding slightly disappointed.

“No one at all,” Remus said, putting the last dish in the drying rack and turning to face her, his face
still pink with embarrassment. Hope raised her eyebrows at him, searching his face.

“Alright,” she said finally. “I just want you to be happy, cariad. It would make me so happy to
know that you had someone in your life that you loved in that way, whoever they were. You know
that, right?”

“Of course I know that, mam,” Remus said, feeling confused even as a new wave of heat rose in
his face. Was she asking what he thought she was asking? “I would tell you if there was anyone,
but there just isn’t.”

“Okay,” she said, walking over to hug him. “I’m going to bed, then, cariad. See you in the
morning.”

“Goodnight, mam,” Remus said, smiling at her. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Hope said, patting his cheek and walking out of the kitchen. Remus could hear
her climbing up the stairs slowly, and he leaned back against the counter, releasing a small sigh.

All things considered, the Marauders meeting his parents had gone very well. They seemed to like
his house and hadn’t embarrassed him too badly in front of his parents, or vice versa. His mother
had seemed to particularly like Sirius, which would surely boost Sirius’ ego if Remus ever told
him. Remus knew he wouldn’t tell him, though, as he had a strong suspicion of the reason Hope
had brought up Sirius again. First Lily, now his mam...why was everyone suddenly convinced that
his and Sirius’ relationship was not what met the eye? He sighed and began to climb the stairs to
his room to get ready to go to sleep, exhausted from the events of the day.

As he fell into his bed ten minutes later, his mind continued to drift toward his friends and their last
year of Hogwarts together. He wondered what would happen after they left. Before that, he
wondered what changes this year would bring, as all the previous ones had. He thought of his
mother and her frailty. He didn’t want things to change, but they would. It seemed that time would
continue on, whether he consented to it or not, moving things about in his life, creating holes and
repairing them in rapid succession. Much as he tried, he could not prevent it.
 1977: Figureheads

August 15th, 1977

Dear Lily,

I hope you’re doing well. I know from Dorcas and Remus that I was right, and you got Head Girl.
Congratulations! You’re going to do great.

You might be wondering why I’m writing you. Trust me when I say I wouldn’t bother you if it
wasn’t important. I wanted to break this news to you before you found out inevitably on September
1st in the prefect compartment. By some strange twist of fate, I’ve been appointed as Head Boy.
Please believe me when I say that I’m just as shocked as you must be. I have no idea why
Dumbledore decided it’d be a good idea, but here we are.

I know you might be angry or disappointed in having to work with me. I’m probably not your first
choice by a long shot, and you’d be right in saying that I don’t really deserve this position. Still, I
hope we can work together this year, as I really do want to do a good job.

Feel free to ignore this, or keep Edelweiss as long as you want to take to reply. Either way, I’ll see
you on September 1st.

Best,

James

....

August 16th, 1977

James,

Wow. I’ve been staring at a blank piece of paper for half an hour and that’s all I’ve come up with
so far. Just wow. I wasn’t expecting this one bit.

Thanks for your congratulations, I really am excited to be Head Girl. This news doesn’t change
that, but I won’t deny that I’m very surprised. I was expecting it to be Remus. I suppose I should
congratulate you, too. I mean, it’s a big honor, whether or not you were expecting it. It means that
Dumbledore believes you’re a good leader and student, which you are, of course, James.

I’m not angry with you unless I find out this is some prank or joke of yours or Sirius’. Then, I
would be angry. Otherwise, I’m alright. I suppose you wrote to me because you wanted to make
sure I wouldn’t hex you out of anger on the first day of the term when I found out. Relax.

I suppose that, since you weren’t a prefect, I’ll have to teach you how it all works initially. It’s not
that complicated, but it wouldn’t hurt to give you a rundown. It’s not urgent, though, so we can
plan to meet in the first few days of term before we have to decide on the patrol schedules.

Lily

P.S. I like your owl, he’s sweet.

....
August 20th, 1977

Lily,

Well, I’m very relieved to hear that you’re not angry with me. I won’t deny that I partly wrote to
you because I was afraid of your temper. Look at it this way: I respect you too much not to be a
little wary, given my own personal history of being on the wrong end of your hexes. I can promise
you that this is no prank on my part, and I’m almost positive it isn’t a joke from Sirius, either,
though I haven’t ruled out the possibility that Dumbledore is pranking me.

Going over prefect details would be great. I know a bit from Remus, of course, and I’ve figured out
a bit more from trying to avoid getting into trouble with prefects when breaking rules. Merlin, how
did McGonagall let this happen?

Anyway, I know there’s a start-of-the-year prefect meeting on the Hogwarts Express. What do we
tell the prefects then? How do I prepare?

James

P.S. I think Edelweiss likes you, too. He was very eager to deliver this letter. Just don’t feed him
too many owl treats or he’ll start pecking me for food. He’s done it before.

....

August 21st, 1977

James,

The start of the year prefect meeting is pretty informal. We’re just supposed to give the fifth years a
rundown on the responsibilities (patrolling, enforcing rules, leading the first years to the dorms,
helping teachers with school events, etc.) and then tell them to patrol the corridors once in a while.
No formal schedule needed yet. Don’t worry about it. If you want, come ten minutes before the
train leaves and we can meet in the compartment and go over the details.

McGonagall is a mystery to me. On the one hand, it seems like she would dissuade Dumbledore
from appointing you because you cause trouble, but also, she loves you. You’re her Transfiguration
prodigy. Plus, you won the Quidditch Cup for us again last year, and you know how much she
loves Quidditch. I wouldn’t count on the fact that McGonagall was against your appointment as
Head Boy.

Perhaps you’ll be an asset as Head Boy because you know the way troublemakers think, if you’re
willing to use your talents for good (or order, I suppose, instead of chaos). Anyway, my guess is
that Dumbledore had some very good reasons for appointing you, and maybe they had to do with
the war. Look at it this way: you’re a pureblood from a prominent family, you’re popular, you’re a
leader, and you’re firmly against the blood purists. Also, the fact that you weren’t a prefect could
be another thing that might make other Hogwarts students favor you over, say, Remus, as lots of
students think prefects are stuffy snitches. From Dumbledore’s standpoint, you’re a great political
figure that many other students can rally around, even people who might not initially be on his
side.

Lily

P.S. Perhaps you could do to give Edelweiss more treats. Maybe I’ll give him more just to spite
you.
 ....

August 23rd, 1977

Lily,

I will definitely meet you ten minutes before eleven on September 1st in the prefect compartment. I
have to admit that I’m nervous. I will definitely be turning some of my skills for order, rather than
chaos, as you put it. Still, I’ll have to balance the scales somewhat, and you can’t expect me to
completely give up the chaos.

You’ve got a good point there, both about McGonagall and Dumbledore. I never really thought of
it like that, but you’re absolutely right. If I think about the Head positions as not just positions to
enforce rules, but also as role models for the students, it makes much more sense why Dumbledore
would choose me. I’m more popular than Remus, and anyway, he would hate that part of the job
(he’d probably hate most parts of the job, honestly). That actually helps, too. At least I can now
figure out what I can do to play up that part of the job since I might be rubbish at the rule-
enforcing aspect.

James

P.S. If you give him more treats, he’ll also start pecking you for food, too. You’ve been warned.

....

August 24th, 1977

James,

Okay, I’m moving this to the body of the letter instead of the P.S.: You were right. Edelweiss has
started pecking me for food. I was warned, and I fell into the trap anyway. In my defense, I’ve
never interacted much with owls, as I obviously don’t own one myself. Mostly I use Avellana to
send letters, since Dorcas writes me the most out of anyone, and she never pecks me. Now, this is
not to say that I don’t still adore Edelweiss. But he sort of scares me, now, too.

Feel free to take over the politics of the Head position. I’ll probably be better at the technical side,
anyway, and you’re the one that the whole school loves, not me.

Lily

....

August 25th, 1977

Lily,

Well, Edelweiss has made me bleed several times over the last few days, so I hope you’re happy.
He’s also pecking me now as I write, which I think means he wants me to hurry up and get this
letter off to you, so he can go deliver it and see you. You definitely found an admirer in him.
Whether that’s because of the treats you gave him or just your natural charms is anyone’s guess. I
hope you’re not judging him against Avellana, as she is the sweetest owl I have ever met. Most of
them are a little grumpier, and demand a little more, like Edelweiss. He’s also gotten a bit more
insistent as he’s gotten older.

Also, you’re fooling yourself if you think you’re not well-liked by most students, too. Hate to break
it to you, but you’re pretty popular, especially since last year. Maybe you’re not as outgoing as I
am, and you follow rules more, but people still love you. You weren’t just a shoo-in for Head Girl
because you’re good at school, that’s for sure, you’re also a political choice and a role model.
Don’t underrate your own influence.

James

....

August 25th, 1977

James,

Quite an entertaining thing happened today. You know Callie, my cat? If I remember right, she
took quite a liking to you for a while last year. Well, I came back home this afternoon after going to
get me and Mary’s school things from Diagon Alley, and I found Callie on my pillow, all curled
up, with Edelweiss settled down next to her. I’m not sure how long they were like that, but I
included a polaroid picture for you to see. What an unlikely friendship. Don’t worry, I’m not
judging him against Avellana. He’s great in his own way. Besides, I’ve never seen Avellana get
anywhere near Callie before.

Perhaps you’re right about me being well-liked. Either way, I don’t doubt that Dumbledore was
very strategic in his selection of Head Boy and Girl this year. Who knows, maybe he always is.
Alice and Frank, last year, were great Heads, and also both from prominent pureblood, “blood
traitor” families like yours. He seems to like giving people influence who have one foot in
wizarding society and can use it to their advantage to get wizards with more traditional views on
our side. It’s a good strategy, I suppose, and I of course want to influence younger students to be
less prejudiced wherever I can. Still, it feels a bit strange. We’re still at a school with children.
This isn’t the Ministry.

Lily

....

August 26th, 1977

Lily,

Thanks for the polaroid, that’s so cute. Edelweiss has always been surprisingly friendly with other
animals. He’s been around a dog a few times, and not balked. Still, cats sometimes make all owls
skittish. Callie’s so gentle, though, I’m not surprised he warmed up to her. I’m looking forward to
seeing her, myself.

Of course I’m right about you being well-liked. Who wouldn’t like you? Other than the Slytherins,
of course, but they’re well-established poor judges of character. (I really hope you laughed at
that.) You’re right about it being a bit strange, all of Dumbledore’s calculating moves. Still, I don’t
blame him. If it’s not harming anyone, there’s no reason not to treat Hogwarts as much as a
battleground as any other place. In terms of shaping how people think, Hogwarts probably does
more than the Ministry. It’s all about protecting people in the end, isn’t it?

James

....

August 27th, 1977

James,

I’m sure Callie will love to see you again. She’s a bit attention-starved during the breaks, as she’s
used to living around so many more people at Hogwarts than at home, so when she gets back, she’s
all over everyone, demanding attention. If you’re lucky, she might even let you pet her belly—that’s
the real sign of friendship. Have you ever had any pets other than owls? I saw a dog running
around Hogwarts once in fifth year and I always suspected that you or Sirius might have snuck it
in.

I did laugh, so you can congratulate yourself. I suppose you’re right about Dumbledore, that what
he does is for everyone and that it’s not hurting anyone. And yes, I suppose Hogwarts does
influence minds perhaps more than the Ministry, but that’s a good reason to be cautious about how
that power is exerted. Just a thought.

The funny thing is, I don’t think Hogwarts has any kind of standard of teaching. In the Muggle
world, you need to go through teacher training and get a certification, but I don’t think there’s any
of that here. I mean, obviously a lot of the professors that have been around for a long time are
great, like McGonagall and Flitwick, but Binns is terrible, and no one learns anything. Maybe the
wizarding world needs teacher training.

Lily

....

August 28th, 1977

Lily,

If Callie lets me pet her belly, I might actually die of happiness. She can demand attention from me
anytime. Owls are great, but they’re not as cuddly. To answer your question, no, I’ve never had
another pet. I asked my parents for a dog when I was younger, but they never quite trusted me to
take care of one, and besides, I obviously couldn’t take care of it while I’m at Hogwarts. As for
your suspicion about the dog on Hogwarts grounds, I will neither confirm nor deny your theory. I
do have a friend that has a dog, though, but he’s always had a mind of his own, and he’s rarely
cuddly. Not with me, anyway.

Perhaps you should become a Hogwarts teacher. You’re a great tutor, as I know from personal
experience, so you’d be amazing at it. Slughorn is bound to retire sometime soon, and I’m sure
he’d love to give you a recommendation to replace him, as you’re probably his favorite student.

James

....

August 29th, 1977

James,

I’m going to take your “neither confirm nor deny” statement as a strong yes, you absolutely snuck
that dog onto the grounds. I can’t pretend to understand how sneaking a dog into Hogwarts is your
idea of fun, so I’ll resign myself to ignorance.

As for becoming a teacher, I will admit to having considered it before. Still, I doubt Dumbledore
hires students to become professors right out of school, so I think it’ll be years yet until I’d be a
candidate. In the meantime, I like potion making, so I think I’ll become a potioneer. That reminds
me that I don’t know anything about what you’re thinking of doing after Hogwarts. Put that on the
list of things to tell me once we’re back at school.

See you on the train at ten till. I’ll wait for you in the prefect compartment. Don’t forget your
badge!

Lily

....

James stepped through the barrier onto platform nine and three-quarters at precisely quarter till
eleven, Sirius in tow. The latter was grumbling about the fact that they’d never arrived early
before, and how bored he’d be sitting in their compartment alone, but James didn’t listen to him.
He had his shiny Head Boy badge pinned to his chest, something he’d almost forgotten in the
scramble of leaving until Lily’s words from her letter rang through his mind. It was almost like
she’d known that he’d forget. He ran his thumb over it for the third time, just to make sure it was
still in place.

“If you start polishing your badges, I swear I will strangle you with your own tie,” Sirius said,
watching James with his eyes narrowed. James grinned and removed his hand from the badge.

“Relax,” he said. “I’m still a Marauder. I have my dignity.”

“Funny,” Sirius remarked, smirking. “Where exactly have you been hiding it?”

James grabbed for Sirius and the two boys tussled lightly for a moment, Sirius eventually getting
hold of the taller boy in a headlock and liberally messing his hair up with a fist. James shoved his
laughing friend away.

“Go,” Sirius said, grinning widely as James tried to smooth his unruly locks back down to their
normal state of messiness. “Tell the lovely Lily hello from me.”

“Oh, shove it,” James said, aiming one last kick at Sirius before he leapt onto the train, leaving
Sirius with both of their trunks to haul up to the Marauders’ usual compartment.

James made his way down the familiar passageway, heading towards the end, where he knew the
prefect compartment was located. He checked his watch as he walked up, confirming that it was
exactly 10:50 a.m.. Looking through the compartment door, he saw Lily, her dark red hair falling in
a curtain to hide her face as she bent over a notebook. Smiling, he slid the door open, and she
looked up at him.

“Hey, Lily,” James said, closing the door behind him again. This time, unlike when they’d seen
each other over the summer, there was no hesitation on her part. She placed her notebook beside
her on the seat, stood, and reached up to wrap him in a friendly hug. He smiled, his chin fitting
neatly on top of her head, breathing in the smell of her hair.

“Hi, James,” Lily said finally once she drew back, beaming up at him. “Welcome to the prefect
compartment.”

“Thanks,” James said, grinning and taking a seat across from her. “Now I finally get to know what
happens behind the scenes in the running of this school.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Lily said, flashing him an amused smile. “Anyway, prefects will probably
be arriving in a few minutes, so we should make this quick. Mostly, the Head Boy and Girl give a
short talk about how being a prefect is a responsibility, blah blah blah, then tell us the duties and
let us go.”

“Okay,” James said, smiling. “Seems like you’ll do better than me on the whole ‘explaining
responsibility’ part.”

“Probably,” Lily said, smirking. “I doubt you’d be able to keep a straight face doing it, or that
anyone would take you seriously. You can tell them what their duties are, and say we’ll post a
patrolling schedule within a week. They’ll need to let us know what their conflicts are before we
can make the schedule.”

“I can do that,” James said.

“Well, then hopefully it’ll go off without a hitch, and we don’t have to spend too long here,” Lily
said, sighing and pushing back her hair with her hand. James’ eyes followed her hand’s progress,
then flicked back to her face and smiled.

“I think we’re going to make a good team,” he said. Despite herself, it seemed, Lily smiled back.

The prefect meeting did, in fact, go off without a hitch, though both Remus and Kingsley—who’d
just been appointed a fifth-year Gryffindor prefect—looked like they were trying to keep straight
faces throughout. Remus shot James a grin as he left, eyebrows raised with a look that said he was
surprised but impressed with how James had conducted himself. James smiled back, watching his
friend leave as he stayed behind with Lily to record the prefects’ time conflicts for patrolling.

James almost felt disappointed when they were done in the prefect compartment fifteen minutes
later, as he walked Lily back to where her friends were sitting. He said hello to the Gryffindor girls,
complimenting Mary on her newly blonde hair, which had made him do a double take the first
time he’d spotted her. Then, he left to sit with the other Marauders, whom Remus had already
regaled with news of the prefect meeting. Once they’d all made fun of him a proper amount, they
settled in to play exploding snap. Peter’s little sister, Nora, stopped by at one point during the
journey to shyly say hello, and they all greeted her with enthusiasm, reassuring her about her
Sorting Ceremony that evening.

Soon enough, the red steam engine pulled into Hogsmeade station and they pushed their way
through the crowd into the horseless carriages trundling up to the castle. James looked up at the
castle through the window, marveling at the fact that this would be one of the last times he’d
approach the castle like this. He wasn’t sure that he’d ever properly appreciated how beautiful it
was, all these years.

When they arrived at the oak front doors, James marveled, too, how extraordinary the ceiling of
the Great Hall looked that night. It was a clear night, and the sky was dark blue, the stars just
starting to appear. The beauty of the night was somewhat spoiled, James thought, by the solemn
pronouncements in the Sorting Hat’s song, telling them all to unite in the face of great evil.

“Doesn’t it ever have something cheerful to say?” Sirius muttered to James under his breath as
Professor McGonagall started to call the first years, one by one, to the stool. James smiled wryly
and shook his head.

“I’m not sure why it thinks people will take it seriously,” he replied. “It is a talking hat, after all.”

Remus shot them a half-amused, half-reproving look, and they fell silent to watch the Sorting.
When it was Nora’s turn, all four boys watched in excited silence as she stepped up to the stool.
Peter gave her a smile and a thumbs up, and she smiled back at him nervously as McGonagall
placed the hat onto her small, blonde-haired head. It fell past her eyes and sat there for several
seconds, then yelled out: “Hufflepuff!”

Peter, James observed, only let his disappointment show on his face for a split second. By the time
Nora had lifted the Sorting Hat back off of her head and risen from the stool, he was beaming
again. Nora gave him a smile full of nervous excitement, then bounded off towards the Hufflepuff
table, where the students were applauding her in welcome. Sirius clapped a hand on Peter’s
shoulder from next to him, giving him a sympathetic and understanding smile.

“She’ll be happy there,” Peter said, smiling a bit sadly.

“Of course she will,” Sirius replied. “And we’ll break into the Hufflepuff common room and visit
her whenever we go to the kitchens.” Peter grinned at that and turned back to watch the rest of the
first years get sorted.

When the Sorting Ceremony was over, food appeared on the plates in front of them, and they all
dug in gratefully to the feast. Talk and laughter filled the hall, and James found himself caught up
in a conversation with Emmeline and Remus as they ate. Out of the corner of his eye, he registered
Lily chatting happily with Mary, Dorcas, and Hestia. James was momentarily spellbound by the
sight of her in the candlelight, her green eyes dancing as she laughed at something one of the other
girls had said, and he forced himself to tear his eyes away after a moment so she wouldn’t catch
him staring.

After the food had been cleared from the plates, Dumbledore stood, and a hush came over the
students. Dumbledore spread his arms wide, a smile on his face.

“Welcome,” he said, his voice calm as always. “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts, all of you.
The usual start of term notices: the Forbidden Forest, as always, is strictly out of bounds to all
students…”

“Unless you have an invisibility cloak and the ability to turn into an animal at will,” Sirius
amended under his breath, smirking.

“...our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has—”

“Come up with an ever-growing list of all the ways he wants to take the fun out of our lives,”
James finished under his own breath, also grinning. Peter snickered and Remus smiled, his eyes
twinkling with suppressed laughter. When they looked back, Dumbledore had finished his usual
notices and was looking more serious.

“As you may know from the Daily Prophet over the summer, there was an attack in Muggle
London by a group calling themselves the Death Eaters.” The hall went deathly silent, all
remaining chatter dying out at Dumbledore’s words. None of the Marauders were smiling anymore.

“Our world has become more dangerous than ever in light of these happenings, and the threat of
the wizard calling himself Lord Voldemort,” Dumbledore continued. “But know this: here at
Hogwarts, we are doing everything in our power to keep each and every one of you safe from any
threats, from within or without.” He gazed around seriously at all of them before his expression
lightened slightly.

“In light of this fact, I am very proud to introduce Professor Abbott. Normally, he conducts research
on dark curses and their counterspells at the magical branch of the University of Oxford, but he has
kindly agreed to fill in as our Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor for this year. I hope that you
will all give him a warm welcome.”
A smattering of applause went through the room, breaking the silent spell upon the students. James
craned his neck to see Professor Abbott, who he’d barely registered before. The man looked to be
in his middle age, with short, pale blonde hair and a matching beard. He gave Dumbledore a polite
nod, acknowledging his introduction.

“I wonder if he’ll be any good,” James mused to no one in particular. Remus shrugged.

“If he researches defensive magic for a living, I’d wager he’ll be good to learn from right now.”
Sirius didn’t seem to be listening and leaned forward, anger brewing in his expression.

“Dumbledore didn’t mention the fact that some students knew about the attack firsthand.”

“You mean Hestia and Emmeline?” James asked, tilting his head, perplexed. Sirius shook his head,
casting a dark look over at the Slytherin table.

“Not just them, I’d wager.” James cast a glance towards the Slytherins, too, his eyes immediately
falling on Severus Snape, who was looking back toward them with a sneer on his face. James
narrowed his eyes at him, then turned away.

“Unfortunately for us, we can’t prove who was there,” Emmeline said stiffly. “Or I’d have them
kicked out of school so fast their heads would spin.”

“Even if we did know who was there, getting them kicked out might not be that simple,” James
said darkly. The back of his neck prickled, and he wondered if Snape’s cold, dark eyes were still on
him, but didn’t turn to see.

It took James a moment to realize that Dumbledore had dismissed them. All around them, people
began to rise, pushing the bench back and moving towards the stairs. James rose to his feet
quickly, looking around for Lily, hoping to take point from her on how to behave. He spotted her
only a few yards away, calling to the first years to line up. Before he could move towards her,
however, he heard a voice calling his name.

“Mr. Potter, Ms. Evans!” James turned to see Professor McGonagall wading through the crowd
towards him. He waited, and McGonagall stopped in front of him. “Ms. Evans, you may leave Mr.
Shacklebolt to guide the first years to their dormitory. I would like a word with you and Mr.
Potter.”

Obediently, Lily left the first years with Kingsley and appeared at James’ shoulder, exchanging a
glance with him before following Professor McGonagall away from the crowd. As they passed
Mary, James saw the other girl raise her eyebrows slightly at Lily, and Lily shrugged in response.
The two followed McGonagall down the corridors until they stopped outside her office and she let
them inside, igniting the lamps with her wand.

“Sit down,” she commanded, gesturing to seats in front of her desk. Lily and James sat, Lily
glancing around the office as she did so. James had been in this room more times than he could
count, in one sort of trouble or another, but he supposed Lily hadn’t. Likely, the only time she’d
been in here before was during her career advice session, as she wasn’t one for mischief, so it was
natural that she was curious.

Professor McGonagall settled herself behind her desk, prompting Lily and James both to look back
at her. She regarded them sternly for a moment before her face broke into a rare smile.

“Let me first congratulate you both on your appointment as Head Boy and Girl,” she said. “I
cannot tell you how proud I am to have both Head students in Gryffindor this year, and of course,
for it to be the two of you.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Lily said, giving Professor McGonagall a nervous but pleased smile.
James, who’d worked with Professor McGonagall more closely than Lily ever had, both in classes
and in detentions, was still taken aback. He knew Professor McGonagall was fond of him, but he’d
never expected her to be pleased about his appointment to Head Boy. His surprise must have
shown on his face, because McGonagall addressed him next.

“I know that you have not always given me the easiest time as a professor, or a Head of House,”
she told him kindly. “And you may be questioning even now why you were appointed to this
position. Just know, Mr. Potter, that I believe there is no better person for this job than you.”

Now James was really taken aback, as well as embarrassed, and truly moved. “Professor?” he
inquired, reddening slightly. She smiled again.

“I advocated for your appointment—both of your appointments, in fact,” she told them. “Why do
you think I insisted that you work together last year on your studies?”

Lily and James exchanged a dumbfounded look, and it was Lily, this time, who asked the question
they were both wondering about. “But why, Professor?”

“I needed to see if you could put your differences aside and work together. You did so admirably,”
Professor McGonagall said, sliding a box of ginger newts across the table to offer it to them. “You
are two of the most skilled, capable, and compassionate students I have ever had the privilege to
teach, and I believe that after Hogwarts, you will both go on to do great things. Furthermore, I
believe that your skillsets complement one another in such a way that will make you the best
possible pair to lead our students in this difficult time.”

“Th—thank you, Professor,” James stammered, overwhelmed by her praise. He resisted the urge to
run a hand through his hair. Lily’s cheeks, next to him, were flaming red, and her face showed a
mixture of mortification and pride.

“Now, I must warn you,” Professor McGonagall said, her voice suddenly serious. “The job of the
Head Boy and Girl is difficult at the best of times, and it will be even more so now that war has
broken out in our world. As I’m sure you have already guessed, your job is not just about managing
students and prefects. You are representatives of the school and what we believe in. Professor
Dumbledore hopes that your beliefs will influence others, as will your mere being who you both
are.”

James nodded. He and Lily had been right about the importance of their role, especially these days.
“Unfortunately,” McGonagall continued, her eyes now fixed on Lily. “This will also mean that you
are both in more danger than you have been before now, as you are a symbol of something greater.
To be visible is to be a target.”

James glanced at Lily, too. Her brow was furrowed, and she was frowning, but she nodded. “I
understand.”

James realized that he hadn’t given much thought, previously, to Lily’s role as a political figure.
They’d only talked in their letters about James, and why he would’ve been made Head Boy. Lily’s
appointment had been inevitable, but now James realized that her position as Head Girl might be
just as political as his position as Head Boy. She was a Muggle-born witch, and by putting her in a
position of power, Dumbledore was making his position on the war very clear. Still, being singled
out put her in immense danger, both within Hogwarts and outside of it.
“Lily will be their target,” he said softly, realization dawning over him as he looked at Professor
McGonagall. She stared back at him for a long moment, then gave a little nod.

“I can handle myself, James,” Lily said, looking over at him. He turned to meet her eyes, which
were filled with determination. “I knew what I was getting myself into with all of this.”

He stared at her, emotion after emotion cycling through him. Anger, frustration, fear, and
helplessness all battled in his mind, but the most overpowering of all was admiration. Lily was far
braver than him.

“Okay,” he said finally, turning back to McGonagall. “How do we keep her safe?”

“The security of the castle has been raised tenfold between the previous school year and this one,”
McGonagall replied. “However, most of that protection is focused on keeping dark wizards and
objects out of Hogwarts, while within Hogwarts, security is more complicated. Some of this will be
up to the prefects: to stop duels and be eyes and ears around the castle. I suggest that you figure out
which of them you can trust to be on our side. Specifically for Ms. Evans, I would suggest having
someone with you on all your patrols and practicing caution at all times, especially when you are
in the company of those you may not trust.”

“Slytherins,” James said under his breath. McGonagall gave him an admonitory look but didn’t
correct him.

“You may go, then,” she said. “Please inform me or Professor Dumbledore if you hear of anything
going on in the school on the subject of Voldemort or his supporters, or anything else of concern.”

“We will,” Lily replied. Professor McGonagall nodded, and both Lily and James rose and took
their leave. The door had barely shut behind them before James turned to Lily, fixing her with a
pointed look.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Lily said before he could speak. “But I’m not going to be
scared off from taking a position that I earned.”

“I wasn’t going to say you shouldn’t have taken it,” James said. “But in all our talk about the
position being a political one, you didn’t once think to mention how dangerous it’d be for you?”

“I didn’t think there was any point in dwelling on it,” Lily said, shrugging and beginning to make
her way toward the Grand Staircase, heading to Gryffindor Tower. James fell into step beside her
without question. “Besides, there’s one thing that I have an advantage with that neither you,
Professor McGonagall, nor Dumbledore thought of.”

“And what’s that?”

Lily didn’t meet his eyes, carefully fixing her gaze ahead of her as she said: “Severus.”

James glanced over at her quickly, then looked back in front of him. He knew that she and Snape
had been close ever since they’d been children, up until the end of their fifth year. Still, it seemed
that Lily had thrived in the year since they’d stopped being friends, and he hadn’t gotten the
impression that she regretted the end of their friendship much.

James recalled Snape sneering over at him from the Slytherin table that evening at dinner. He
knew that Snape hated him the most out of the other Marauders, despite the fact that it was Sirius
who loathed him the most in return, to the point where Sirius had almost gotten the Slytherin boy
killed in their fifth year. It hadn’t always been that way, however. Snape’s loathing for James had
increased exponentially during their fifth year, a fact that all of the Marauders had noticed at the
time. It’d been Sirius who first suggested that it was because Snape felt threatened by James’
feelings for Lily, and though this had been a joke in the beginning, they’d all quietly accepted it as
fact after a while. Still, James hadn’t thought that Lily knew about Snape’s feelings for her.

“But you’re not friends with him anymore,” he pointed out, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“Friends or not, he still cares for me,” Lily said, still resolutely not looking at James. “It’s not
much, but none of his cronies have ever specifically targeted me before. It could still be some
protection for me.”

“And you’re okay with that?” James asked before he could stop himself. Try as he might, the
thought of Snape’s feelings for Lily still made him want to hurl.

“Quite honestly, it makes my skin crawl,” Lily admitted, sounding tired. “But I’ll take advantage
of it because there’s no way for me to make it go away.”

“I suppose,” James said, feeling ill at ease. He glanced over at her, but she still wasn’t looking at
him, so he changed the subject. “I suppose it’d be a good idea to do what McGonagall said and
figure out who we can trust among the prefects. Have people keep their eyes and ears open and all
that.”

“We could actually do better than that,” Lily said, perking up, her eyes alight with an idea. “We
could set up a network, and not just of prefects, but also of other students we trust. Then, if anyone
hears something they think may even be slightly related to Voldemort, they get the information to
us, and we can tell McGonagall or Dumbledore.”

“That’s a good idea,” James said, impressed. “I can get Georgie and Kingsley from the Quidditch
team in on it. Liam seems too young to be involved in this sort of thing.”

“I don’t know George or Iris very well,” Lily said, referring to the two Hufflepuff prefects in their
year, looking contemplative. “But they both seem nice, and trustworthy. We could consider
including them.”

“Sarah Flemming could be another source in Hufflepuff,” James said. “She’s Muggle-born, and
she’s a good person. As for Ravenclaw, Miranda could be our source, and if we want a prefect,
Eliza’s reliable, too.”

“So, in other words, all of your former flames,” Lily said, shooting him a teasing smile. James
flushed slightly but didn’t deny it.

“I have good taste in women,” he replied, and it was Lily’s turn to flush red. “Anyway, I don’t trust
Andrew Ackerley,” James continued, referring to the other Ravenclaw prefect in their year. “I
wouldn’t include him.”

“I agree,” Lily said. “The only house that leaves is Slytherin, and that’ll be the tricky part. Having
a source inside of Slytherin would be more valuable than all the rest combined, but it might be hard
to set up.”

“There’s Layla,” James said doubtfully. “Pete’s girlfriend, you know, Layla Greengrass? I honestly
don’t know her that well, but she seems nice. I’m just not sure if she’d do it or not.”

“What about Sirius’ brother?” Lily asked, glancing up at James.

James shook his head heavily. “Regulus hasn’t spoken two words to Sirius since he left home the
summer before last. He won’t be our source.” Lily frowned.
“That’s shit,” she said sympathetically, and James nodded.

“Do you know anything about any of the other Slytherin prefects?” James asked, thinking. “Evan
Rosier is out, of course. But there’s Jacqueline Burke in our year, Andrea Selwyn and Robert
Baddock in sixth year, and Barty Crouch and Anna Fawley in fifth.”

“I’ve heard bad things about Andrea’s younger brother, John Selwyn,” Lily said. “He runs in the
same crowd as Amycus Carrow, and Sirius’ brother, Regulus. I would guess that means Andrea
was brought up with blood purist beliefs, too. I don’t know anything about Barty Crouch, but I
think he hangs around that crowd, too, so that might be a reason to exclude him.”

“Andrea and Barty are out,” James confirmed, nodding. “Jacqueline, Robert, and Anna could all
be considerations.”

“Do you think Professor Fawley is Anna’s father?” Lily asked, referring to their D.A.D.A.
professor from second year.

“I don’t know, could be an uncle,” James mused. “I liked him, though. He was a good professor.
It’s a shame he got injured and had to leave.”

“I liked him, too,” Lily said. Still, she hesitated. “I don’t know, though. Anna’s still so young. I’m
not sure I want to drag a fifth year we don’t even know into this, especially as she’d have the
hardest job of all.”

“Yeah,” James said, sighing. “I don’t know, either. What’s the age cutoff where someone’s able to
handle this stuff?”

“I couldn’t tell you,” Lily said, smiling wryly. “I’m not sure we’d be over the cutoff.”

“Probably not,” James said, letting out a short laugh. There was a pause, then he glanced over at
her, his gaze softening. “I’m glad I’m doing this with you.”

Lily looked back at him, and a genuine smile curved her lips, too. Her green eyes were soft, and
James was sure that she’d never looked at him that way before. “I’m glad I’m doing this with you,
too.”
 1977: Family Secrets
Chapter Notes

cw: non-major character death, mentions of abuse, homophobia, internalized

homophobia

The day that Alphard Black died was a grey and dreary Wednesday at the beginning of October.
Rain poured on the castle, beating on the windows as Sirius went to Quidditch practice and did his
work in the common room, feeling rather unsettled, but for no reason that he could put his finger
on. It wasn’t until the next morning that he got the news from the only member of the Black family
that he was in contact with: his cousin, Andromeda.

When the post came on Thursday morning, Sirius was surprised to see Andromeda and Ted’s barn
owl, Pan, fly down to him with a letter tied to its leg. After all, he’d only just received a letter from
Andromeda the previous Friday, catching him up on what was going on in her family and asking
how his seventh year was going so far, and he hadn’t gotten around to responding yet. He removed
it quickly and Pan flew off again right away. Sirius opened the envelope, unfolded the letter, and
began to read.

October 6th, 1977

Sirius,

I’m sorry to have to give you this news in a letter, but unfortunately, there was no other way, given
the new security around Hogwarts. Uncle Alphard was found dead in his London flat yesterday
afternoon. They say it was a heart attack.

I’m so sorry. I know that you weren’t that close with him, but he was the only person who would
speak to either of us after we got disowned. That meant a lot to me, and I think it did to you, too. I
know you probably won’t be able to get out of school, but if you can, and you want to go, the
funeral is on Saturday, 4 p.m. at the wizarding cemetery just outside of London where all the
Blacks are buried. You know the one. I’d be happy for the company, but I understand if you can’t
or don’t want to attend. If you can’t, maybe I can come to Hogsmeade on a weekend so we can
talk.

Love,

Andy

Sirius read the letter through several times, trying to comprehend it. He set it down slowly, his
eyes staring blankly into space in front of him. His Uncle Alphard was dead. He was dead, at only
fifty years old, found in his flat. Dead, of a heart attack. A heart attack? Not likely, Sirius thought
derisively.

“Sirius? Mate?” Sirius was snapped out of his rumination by James’ voice, and the other boy’s
hand waving in front of his face. He glanced up at James, who looked rather concerned. “What’s
wrong?”
“My uncle’s dead,” Sirius said casually, attempting to wipe his face clear of expression, folding the
letter up, and placing it back in its envelope. James stared at him, completely caught off guard.
Peter, beside James, stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth, a bit of scrambled egg dangling
off it, his mouth open. Remus turned to Sirius.

“Which uncle?” he asked, his blue eyes wide with concern.

“Alphard,” Sirius said, meeting Remus’ gaze briefly before looking down at his plate, no longer
feeling remotely hungry, but instead rather nauseous. He felt a burning sensation behind his eyes,
and when he looked back up, he found himself blinking away tears.

“Fuck,” he said, his voice thick. He stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder, and nearly ran out
of the Great Hall, ignoring Remus’ voice behind him, calling: “Sirius, wait!”

Sirius raced up the stairs to the second floor, not paying attention to where he was going
consciously, only looking for somewhere to hide. He finally found a broom cupboard a few yards
down the corridor and locked himself in. Sliding down to sit on the cold stone floor, Sirius
wrapped his arms around his knees and tried to grasp the enormity of what he’d just learned. Tears
slid down his face as he thought of his uncle. He’d never known the man well, as he’d only had a
chance to have a real relationship with him after he’d run away from home. He remembered the
night that he’d left: Alphard congratulating him on completing his O.W.L.s, saying that he was
sure Sirius had done well, and later, asking if he was alright after being hit with Bellatrix’s
Cruciatus Curse.

Sirius remembered, too, the aftermath of that night. He remembered moving out of his home, and,
several days later, seeing the handsome, horned owl outside the window of his new room in the
Potter house. He’d opened the window, and the owl had flown in, holding out its leg so that he
could retrieve the letter, within which his uncle had inquired how he was and asked if they could
meet. Sirius had been hesitant at first, but his curiosity got the better of him, and he’d consented to
meet Alphard for tea the following day.

They met several times over the subsequent holidays, and Sirius had finally gotten to know the
uncle he’d always been forbidden to talk to before. He was surprised but pleased to find that his
uncle was amusing, intelligent, and quirky. Most of all, the fact that Alphard still wanted to know
him, still cared enough to inquire after Sirius’ safety upon leaving Grimmauld Place touched him
deeply. Now, his uncle was gone, just when Sirius had been starting to trust the older man.

There was a knock on the door, and Sirius lifted his head from his arms in surprise. It’d taken them
a surprisingly short amount of time to find him, given his hiding place. He supposed that they had
the map with them. When he opened the door, however, it was only Remus standing there, the
Marauder’s Map in his hands, looking in at Sirius with his solemn blue eyes. Sirius stepped back
without a word and Remus walked into the cupboard, closing it behind him, and throwing them
into semi-darkness.

“I know you like to hide when you’re upset, but a broom closet? Really?” Remus asked, clearly
trying for lightness. Sirius didn’t reply, just sat back on the cold stone and looked up at Remus.
Remus sighed, sitting beside him and draping his arm around Sirius’ back, pulling him closer to
him in an awkward sort of half-hug.

“I’m so sorry, Sirius,” he murmured, and this set Sirius off again. He buried his head into Remus’
sweater, crying quietly into the soft wool. Remus held the shorter boy to him, one hand on his back
and the other finding his hair and stroking it comfortingly. When Sirius’ tears subsided, he stayed
in the same position for a while, his face buried in Remus’ shoulder, his eyes closed, allowing
Remus to continue to stroke his hair. It felt nice there, safe, and Sirius wished he didn’t have to re-
emerge, and could just hide his face in Remus’ sweater forever, the scent of wool and bergamot
enveloping him.

After several long minutes, however, Sirius did pull back, wiping his eyes with the back of his
hand. “He was one of the only decent people in my family, Remus,” he said. “And he was the only
one who ever tried to protect me. He still treated me like I was a child who deserved protection.”

“He sounds like a very good man,” Remus said, his fingers tracing down the back of Sirius’ hand,
which, at some point, he’d taken hold of.

“I think he really was,” Sirius replied softly. “I wish I’d had more time to get to know him. My
mum always forbade me to talk to him alone when I was younger.”

“Why?” Remus asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“No idea,” Sirius said, shrugging hopelessly. “I couldn’t ask her, of course, and Alphard and I
never talked about it. I guess now I’ll probably never know, will I?” There was silence again for
another couple of moments, Remus still running his thumb comfortingly along the back of Sirius’
hand.

“Do you know how he died?”

Sirius snorted. “Andy says they called it a heart attack,” he said, shaking his head disbelievingly.
“She’s the one who sent me the letter. I doubt it was really that, though. Someone in my family
was probably involved. Maybe they wanted his gold, or just wanted him out of the way. Who
knows?”

Remus was silent again, but Sirius thought he could see him nodding in the darkness. “Will there
be a service?”

“On Saturday.”

“Are you going to go?” Remus asked, peering at Sirius in the darkness. Sirius sniffed, wiping his
nose with his sleeve, and nodded.

“I think I’d like to, yeah,” he said. “I can easily take the secret passage to Honeydukes and apparate
from there. It’ll be strange, though. All of my family will be there, I expect, and I haven’t seen any
of them except Andy and Regulus since I left.”

“But Andy will be there, too, right?” Remus asked, sounding concerned.

“Yeah, she’ll be there,” Sirius replied. He knew the expression Remus must be making without
being able to see it: a crease between his eyebrows, mouth turned down slightly in a frown, blue
eyes piercing and unreadable as he looked at Sirius. “We can always make a break for it together if
it looks like it’ll turn nasty.”

“That’s good,” Remus said. “Luckily you can use magic outside of Hogwarts legally now, too. You
know, if you need to.”

“I doubt there’ll be an issue,” Sirius said, shrugging. “My relatives don’t usually like to make
scenes in public places ‘cause it tarnishes the Black image. I just won’t hang around to chat
afterward, not that I’d ever want to.”

Remus smiled at him in the dark. “No tearful reunions with Walburga?”
Sirius laughed bitterly. “I don’t think that’s in the cards for us.”

....

On Saturday afternoon, Sirius said goodbye to his friends in the Gryffindor common room,
ignoring their anxious faces as he stuffed James’ invisibility cloak into the pocket of his black
dress robes, which he’d put an undetectable extension charm on. The cloak would help him get in
and out of Honeydukes on his way back to the castle. He told his friends to expect him back by the
next day, saying that he might stay the night at Andromeda’s.

“If I’m not back by Monday morning, send a search party,” he joked, but regretted saying it almost
instantly, as it only made his friends look more concerned. Perhaps it’d been a mistake to tell them
that he suspected his family of being involved in Alphard’s death. “Oh, come on, don’t worry
about me. I’ll be fine.”

“Just be careful,” Remus said, meeting Sirius’ eyes steadily. Sirius gave him a small, reassuring
smile.

“I will, I promise,” Sirius replied, then turned on his heel and strode out of the dormitory, not being
able to stomach seeing their worry for another moment. He’d never told his friends the full extent
of what had gone on at his home before he’d left, and he didn’t intend to. He would take the secret
with him to the grave if he could manage it: he didn’t need them to look at him like he was broken,
not any more than they already did.

Sirius headed down the stairs to the third floor, found the one-eyed witch that concealed the secret
passage to Honeydukes, and opened the passage with his wand. He’d done it so many times he
didn’t have to think about it. Then he climbed in, slid down the stone slide, and set off towards the
village. Even with his fast pace, it still took him about forty-five minutes to get to the trapdoor that
led to the Honeydukes cellar. Only then did he know that he was past the boundary between the
castle and the village, and as soon as he checked that the coast was clear in the cellar, he turned on
the spot and apparated from between the boxes of sweets.

Once the unpleasant compressing sensation of being forced through a very small tunnel had lifted,
Sirius opened his eyes, blinking in the daylight, and took in his surroundings. He’d reappeared
behind a tree next to the cemetery, which was located just outside of London. Sirius had attended
several funerals here in his childhood, mostly those of older Black family members. The life
expectancy for Blacks wasn’t nearly as long as the average wizard, probably due to all the
inbreeding, Sirius thought derisively.

He stepped out from behind the tree, checking his watch as he did so. It was ten minutes to four,
and he could see a small crowd beginning to gather halfway across the cemetery, where several
rows of white seats had been set up facing a coffin. Sirius took a deep breath, steeled himself for a
second, then set off across the grass towards them. He wasn’t ready to see his mother and father
again, to see Bellatrix, Narcissa, or his uncles and aunts who’d watched as he stormed out of the
dining room of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place that night, more than a year ago now. It didn’t
really matter whether he was ready or not, though, because they’d be there, and he would see them
in less than a minute.

Sure enough, as Sirius approached the crowd, the first people he spotted were his parents. They
were both dressed in expensive, black dress robes, and held themselves stiffly, their faces
expressionless, looking almost bored. Sirius felt a stab of hatred as he saw them. Next to them were
Cygnus, Druella, Ignatius Prewett, Lucretia, Narcissa, and Bellatrix. No Regulus. They probably
hadn’t wanted to take him out of school for the funeral, not viewing it as important enough for him
to have to attend. They all stood a bit away from the coffin, not seated yet, speaking softly with one
another.

As Sirius approached, they didn’t notice him, which surprised him until he saw that they were all
staring at another figure who was already seated, disapproval written all over their faces.
Andromeda seemed to sense Sirius as he spotted her, and she turned her head to look at him, relief
flooding her features. She stood quickly, smiling and making her way over to him, pulling him into
a hug, which he returned gratefully.

“I’m so glad you came,” she said, sadness showing in her eyes as she met his. Sirius tried to give
her a trademark grin back, but he wasn’t sure if he’d quite managed it.

“How could I stay away?” he joked, glancing over to the cluster of people where their family
members stood. They were now muttering louder and more angrily, glaring at Sirius and
Andromeda. Andromeda glanced at them quickly, too, then took Sirius’ arm, leading him back
towards her seat, facing away from their family.

“It’s best not to look at them,” she said as she sat down. “Then I can better pretend that they’re not
all plotting my death.” Sirius managed a small laugh, and Andromeda sent him a sheepish grin.

“Thanks for your letter,” Sirius said, his expression growing more somber.

“Of course,” Andromeda replied, looking sad again. “One of Ted’s friends from the Ministry let us
know. I’m glad...I wouldn’t have found out, otherwise.” Sirius wasn’t sure what to say to that, so
he just nodded. “I’m surprised you came,” Andromeda said, glancing at him curiously.

“Yeah, well,” Sirius said, shrugging. “I snuck out of school if you must know. I needed to say
goodbye, though, and I’ve broken the rules for much less before now.”

“You should come over to my house after the service,” Andromeda said. Sirius nodded gratefully,
meeting her gaze again. Their shared grief felt tangible between them, and Sirius knew that he’d
made the right decision. He’d needed this: to be around someone who was feeling the same thing
that he was feeling, the same loss. Sirius only broke their eye contact when he heard the muttering
of the crowd of Black relatives grow louder, and both he and Andromeda looked around to see
what all the fuss was about.

The crowd had parted, the Black relatives staring at the man who’d appeared in their midst,
walking towards the front of the rows of chairs and taking a seat. As he drew closer, Sirius was
shocked to see that the man was none other than his new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher,
Professor Abbott. His face wore an expression of deep grief and sorrow, but he still managed to
look quite regal. He ignored everyone around him, even as the group of Black relatives, including
both of Sirius’ parents, continued to hiss angrily among themselves, casting him disgusted looks.
Sirius wasn’t sure if the professor had seen him there, and was choosing not to acknowledge him,
or if he hadn’t recognized him at all.

“What is my D.A.D.A. professor doing here?” Sirius asked Andromeda in a whisper, staring at the
blonde-haired, bearded man.

“Who, Charles?” Andromeda asked in surprise, following his gaze. “I didn’t realize he was
teaching at Hogwarts.”

“Yeah, he started this year,” Sirius said. “Did he know Uncle Alphard?”

“Well, of course,” Andromeda said, looking at Sirius incredulously. “He was Uncle Alphard’s
boyfriend.”
Sirius’ eyes widened in shock, staring, mouth slightly open, at the man sitting somberly in front of
his uncle’s coffin. He turned back to Andromeda after a moment to find her looking at him in
surprise. “Didn’t your parents ever tell you that Alphard was gay?”

Sirius shook his head, his mind still churning at the news. “No, they didn’t,” he said, thinking
back. “I always wondered why my mum always forbade me and Regulus from being alone with
him, though. She never told us why, but she acted like we would catch something dangerous if we
were around him for too long.”

Andromeda snorted. “Classic Walburga,” she said, shaking her head in disgust. “Yes, well, Alphard
kept the fact that he was gay from his family until both of his parents died. Then, after he became
the heir, being the oldest son, neither of our parents could do anything about it when he went
public—or should I say, semi-public—with Charles. They couldn’t disown him, as he was
technically the head of the family, and they wouldn’t try because he had most of the gold anyway.
He’s never been outspoken about his politics, either, so just being gay wasn’t quite enough to blast
him off the tree, though I know your mum has come close several times.”

“That’s insane,” Sirius said, dumbfounded. “I can’t believe I never knew any of this.”

“Well, I guess your parents didn’t want you to get any ideas,” Andromeda said darkly. “My father,
on the other hand, was very vocal about it, though ‘gay’ was definitely not one of the words he
liked to use to describe Alphard.”

“But,” Sirius said, looking confusedly from Andromeda to Professor Abbott, “how do you know
what Profes—Charles looks like? Have you met him before?”

“Well, after I was disowned, Alphard reached out to me, just like he did to you, I gather,”
Andromeda explained. “I went to tea with him a few times, and he came over and met Nymphadora
and Ted a couple of times, too. One time, I was at his flat, and he introduced me to Charles.”
Andromeda turned her gaze to the blond-haired man again, a look of sympathy on her face as she
took in his grief-filled expression. “He seemed like a very nice man. They met at Hogwarts,
apparently. The Abbotts, I hear, are not as traditional as the Blacks in their politics, so his family
was relatively accepting of their relationship. More than ours, at least.”

“Our family truly is awful,” Sirius said, sending a bitter glance over to his parents, who had seated
themselves a few rows over from him and Andromeda.

“They really are,” Andromeda agreed, glancing over to her parents, who were sitting stiffly beside
them, pointedly not looking towards her. “You know, I can’t express enough how glad I am that
you turned up to this. I was afraid that I’d be alone, and, well...I haven’t seen anyone in our family
other than you and Alphard since the night I ran from your house on Christmas Day, five years
ago.”

Sirius put his hand over hers, which was resting on her lap, and gave it a squeeze. “You’ll always
have me, Andy,” he said. “We’ll always be family to each other, no matter what those tossers think
of us.”

She smiled at him, her eyes a little teary, covering his hand with hers. “No matter what,” she
confirmed, squeezing his hand back.

They didn’t say anything more just then, as a man walked to the front of the rows of chairs and
began to speak about Alphard. Sirius let the words wash over him, trying to find his uncle within
them, though most of them felt rather empty and lifeless. The whole ceremony was very stiff, just
how his family wanted it, Sirius supposed. He wondered at the nerve of people who turned up to a
funeral that they’d likely caused themselves. That was the Black family in a nutshell, however.
They didn’t really care about the service, anyway. They were just waiting for the reading of the
will.

When the service ended and his uncle’s coffin had been lowered into the ground of his grave, a
marble tombstone its head, bearing only his name and dates of birth and death, the mourners
headed in towards the funeral home. Sirius and Andromeda trailed behind the rest as they hurried
in greedily. Sirius wished he could skip it entirely, but Andromeda insisted he attend.

“He might have left you something,” she said, grabbing his arm and linking it with hers, dragging
him towards the doors.

“I’m disowned, remember?” Sirius snorted, rolling his eyes. “I know Alphard didn’t necessarily
subscribe to many of our family’s beliefs, but he kept up appearances. Why would he ruin that by
leaving me something upon his death?”

“You never know,” was all that Andromeda said in response, and Sirius followed her unwillingly
into the room, standing by the doors so that they could make a quick getaway if they needed to. In
a corner of the room, Sirius saw Professor Abbott, standing solemnly, and this time, the older
wizard met his gaze, giving a small nod of acknowledgment before looking away again.

An official from the Ministry stepped to the front, sitting down at the table there and drawing out a
file from his briefcase, which was made from thick, expensive-looking paper. He cleared his throat
and opened the file, which contained only a thin piece of paper. Sirius could see his mother on the
edge of her seat at the front, her eyes fixed greedily on the paper. He felt a little nauseous,
watching.

“The last will and testament of Alphard Pollux Black,” the Ministry wizard started, his voice rather
high and squeaky as he read. “To Charles Giffard Abbott, I leave all of my belongings, including
but not limited to all family heirlooms and my book collection.”

This first statement alone caused the crowd at the front to explode in mutterings, and Sirius
couldn’t help but admire his uncle’s nerve. To specify that all heirlooms should be left to his
boyfriend, and not to the Black family, was rather ballsy. His mother would not be pleased. Still,
the muttering died out quickly as everyone fell silent to hear the rest of the will.

The wizard cleared his throat again, then continued in his squeaky voice. “To my niece and
nephew, Sirius Orion Black and Andromeda Cassiopeia Black, I leave seventy thousand galleons
each. In addition, I leave my London residence to my nephew, Sirius Orion Black. The remaining
balance in my Gringotts account will be donated to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and
Injuries.”

A deafening silence followed these words, which the Ministry wizard seemed quite indifferent to.
He closed the file and put it back into his briefcase, standing up from his chair. He looked around
at the gathered wizards and witches, perhaps noticing their absolute stillness for the first time.

“That is all,” he said, finality in his voice, and walked out of the door, leaving the Black family to
deal with their shock.

Sirius felt frozen in place with his own astonishment, still staring blankly at the table where the
Ministry wizard had sat, but he was jolted out of his trance by Andromeda, who was tugging on his
arm. He turned to her, registering as he did so that her eyes were as full of shock as his, but there
was also fear in them. Past her, in the opposite corner of the room, he saw Professor Abbott turn on
the spot, disappearing with a loud crack.
“We need to go,” Andromeda whispered agitatedly to him. Sirius nodded, looking around at the
people around him. At the front of the room, mutters were starting to spread, growing louder and
louder. Soon, Sirius knew that there would be shouting, and his mother would explode in rage. He
didn’t need to be around when that happened; he was done being the target of her outbursts.

Andromeda pushed the door open, Sirius right behind her, and they escaped into the cold October
air, Sirius slamming the door behind them. They raced across the grass of the cemetery together,
past Alphard’s grave and towards the trees on the far side. Sirius knew that they didn’t need to run;
they could’ve just apparated away from the inside of the room, as Professor Abbott had, but
perhaps it was the way that he and Andromeda had both been raised that made it their first instinct.
Simply apparating away wouldn’t fully take care of the fight or flight response that Sirius knew
was sending adrenaline through his veins, and he imagined that Andromeda felt the same way.
They only stopped when they reached the opposite side of the cemetery. When Sirius caught up to
Andromeda, who was a few steps ahead of him, she grasped his arm and turned on the spot,
making them both disappear into thin air and then appear again, moments later, in Andromeda’s
backyard at her small house near Southampton.

They were both panting, breathless, so instead of going inside, they flopped down on the grass.
Andromeda kicked off her shoes, and they lay there, both catching their breath and not talking, still
processing what’d just happened. Then, miraculously, Andromeda began to laugh.

“I can’t believe that that just happened!” she exclaimed, clutching her stomach. “He really did that.
Uncle Alphard really left us his gold! And he gave you his flat! And he didn’t give anything to the
rest of the family! The nerve of that man, honestly,” she said, chuckling, sounding proud of her
uncle.

Sirius shook his head, still in shock but managing to laugh as well. “He really did that,” he repeated
incredulously. “And he gave all of his things to Professor Abbott, even specifying that the
heirlooms would go to him as well so that neither of our parents could get their hands on them!”

Andromeda laughed even harder. “Oh Merlin, I’m just thinking of my father’s face when that man
read it out,” she said. “Did you see your mother’s face?”

“No,” Sirius said, shaking his head, but smirking. “I can imagine it, though.”

“They tolerated him being gay and having a boyfriend because they thought he’d leave them the
Black family gold if he died before them,” Andromeda said, shaking her head incredulously and
grinning at her uncle’s nerve. “And then he went and gave everything to said boyfriend and his
disowned niece and nephew instead of them.”

“I wish I could’ve had more time to get to know him,” Sirius said, still grinning, though there was a
trace of sadness in his voice, too. “He really was quite the man.”

“How long do you think it’ll take for your mum to blast him off the tree?” Andromeda asked,
turning her head to look over at him.

Sirius let out a bark of laughter. “I’m sure that’s the first thing she’ll do when she gets home. Who
knows, though? She might set the whole place on fire instead. Not known for our anger
management, us Blacks.”

“No, we really aren’t,” Andromeda remarked, smiling and sitting up from the grass finally, Sirius
following suit so that they were facing one another. “Especially your deranged mother and my
crazy older sister.”
“Who do you think is the biggest disappointment now?” Sirius asked, grinning. “I’d say it’s a close
contest between you, me, and Alphard.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Andromeda said, grinning mischievously. “I’m still the only one out of the
three of us that managed to “dilute the pureblood line,” after all,” she said, making exaggerated air
quotes. “Though I guess you still have time to do that, yourself,” she said, smirking at Sirius. He
smiled at her weakly, but her words sobered him slightly. He met her eyes more seriously, and she
looked back, her smile dropping a little as she took in his change of expression.

“I’m not so sure that’s in the cards for me,” he said, flushing.

It was an innocuous enough statement in itself, which could mean a great number of things, but the
way that Sirius said it was the furthest possible thing from casual and innocuous. If he’d said it in a
different tone of voice, with a laugh at the end of the sentence, Andromeda might’ve written it off
as a throwaway statement about being young and uninterested in such things like marriage and
children, but his tone made her turn in surprise, instead. Andromeda’s eyes widened, and her mouth
made a slight O shape, looking at him searchingly.

He blushed harder. “I mean...not...well, it could happen, but it also...uh,” he cleared his throat,
embarrassed at his stammering and looking down, away from her piercing stare.

“You know I meant what I said earlier, right?” Andromeda asked, and Sirius looked back up at her,
his face still hot. She was looking at him intently, her grey eyes serious. “No matter what, you’re
my family. I’ve never subscribed to any of our family’s beliefs. No matter who you are...I love
you. I don’t judge.”

Sirius flushed again, feeling vulnerable under her unwavering gaze, but he was also extremely
grateful for her words. “I...thanks, Andy,” he managed to get out, and she smiled at him. “For
everything,” Sirius continued, his voice slightly stronger. “You’ve always been like an older sister
to me, and I’m not sure I’ve ever told you how much it’s always meant to me, you being there.”

“Of course,” Andromeda replied, smiling gently at him. Then, she stood, putting out her hand for
him to take, and pulled him up. “Let’s go and see what Ted’s making for dinner. You’re staying,
right?”

“I’d love to,” Sirius said, smiling. “I don’t have to be back at Hogwarts until tomorrow, anyway.”

“You can sleep in our guest room, if you’d like,” Andromeda offered, holding the back door open
for Sirius. He grinned at her and walked inside, greeted by the delicious smell of something
cooking.

“Thanks, I’ll probably take you up on that,” Sirius said. The moment that Andromeda closed the
door behind them, a small shape raced across the room towards Sirius, launching at him and
hugging his knees enthusiastically.

“Uncle Sirius!” cried the small girl, looking up at him and grinning.

“Hey, Dora,” Sirius beamed, bending his knees so that he was almost at her eye level. “How’s my
favorite little niece?” She was not, of course, his niece, but his first cousin once removed, but that
was a bit complicated for a small child to understand, and for all intents and purposes, their
relationship was more like that of uncle and niece.

“I’m great!” Nymphadora exclaimed, standing up tall and giving him a wide, toothy smile. The last
time Sirius had seen her was at the end of the summer, and she appeared to have grown a bit in the
two months since then. Today, her hair was a bright, electric blue, but it’d been green the last time
he’d seen her. She often changed it multiple times a day, though, Andromeda’s letters had said.

“Look at what I did,” Nymphadora exclaimed excitedly, lifting her hair to show him her ears,
which were pink and floppy, like a pig’s.

“They’ve been like that for over a week now,” Ted Tonks said, grinning at Sirius as he entered the
room, striding over to him. Sirius stood up to hug Ted, who patted him affectionately on the back
before releasing him. “She can’t figure out how to change them back.”

“I can, too!” Nymphadora exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest mutinously. “I just don’t
want to!”

“Of course you don’t,” Sirius said, laughing. “Because they’re really cool, right?” Nymphadora
beamed up at him, then ran off to play with her toy hippogriff. Ted headed back into the kitchen, so
Andromeda and Sirius followed him.

“So, how was the funeral?” Ted asked, stirring a pot of soup on the stove.

“It was good,” Andromeda said, smiling and leaning against the counter, looking at her husband.
“Glad this one turned up to keep me company,” she said, grinning at Sirius.

“It’s a pleasant surprise to see you here,” Ted said, smiling at Sirius in a rather teasing manner.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “It’s the weekend,” he said. “None of the professors care that I’m gone.
Anyway, I knew I had to go to the service as soon as Andy wrote me the news.”

“Are you glad you went?” Andromeda asked.

“Yeah, I am,” Sirius said. “I mean, the service was a bit impersonal in my opinion, but it was still
good to have a chance to say goodbye. And I learned a lot of new things about our dear Uncle
Alphard, too,” he said, sending a slight smirk to Andromeda. She laughed.

“Did you introduce him to Charles?” Ted asked Andromeda. She smiled and shook her head.

“He’d already met him, actually,” Andromeda said. “Charles is the new D.A.D.A. teacher at
Hogwarts. But I did clue Sirius into what was apparently a family secret.”

“Wait, you didn’t know about Alphard being gay?” Ted asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise at
Sirius. He smiled and shook his head.

“I was never privy to that information,” he said. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me when we saw
each other after you were disowned, even!” he exclaimed, looking accusingly at his cousin.

“I thought you knew!” Andromeda defended, holding up her hands innocently. Then, she turned to
Ted. “Actually, there was more than just one surprise for the both of us. They read the will after
the funeral, you know.”

“Oh, do tell,” Ted said, turning around and looking at her in interest.

“He left Sirius and I both a lot of gold,” she said. “And Sirius got his flat in London, too. All of his
belongings went to Charles, and the rest of his gold that we didn’t get he’s donating to St.
Mungo’s.”
Ted’s eyes widened in surprise. “So he didn’t leave anything to the rest of your family?” he asked
incredulously, his eyes flicking from Andromeda to Sirius and back.

“Nothing whatsoever,” Sirius replied satisfiedly. “He even specified in his will that even the family
heirlooms that he has should go to Charles, not the family.”

“Shit,” Ted said, running a hand through his straw-colored hair, a half-smile on his lips. “Your
uncle was quite the man.”

“He really was,” Andromeda said, smiling sadly. “I didn’t expect it in the least.”

“Oh Merlin, I can’t believe I have my own flat now,” Sirius exclaimed. “I’ve never even seen
where Alphard lives!”

“It’s very nice,” Andromeda said. “Of course, since he left all his possessions to Charles, you’ll
probably have to get some furniture and stuff for yourself, but it’s a nice one-bedroom flat, well
made, with a great view of London. You’ll like it.”

“Why do you think Alphard didn't leave any gold to Charles?” Sirius asked.

“Charles probably doesn’t need it,” Andromeda said, shrugging. “He comes from a prominent
pureblood family himself, so he probably has an inheritance, plus he has a stable career as a
professor and no children. On the other hand, we’re young and with no inheritances to speak of,
since we’re disowned. I’m guessing Alphard figured we needed the gold more than Charles did.”

“It was really great of him,” Sirius said, looking slightly sad as he thought of his uncle’s
generosity, so openly given even though Sirius had barely known the man. “Not that I wasn’t
planning on getting a job and everything after graduating, but it makes things easier. I won’t have to
rely on Euphemia and Fleamont’s generosity so much now.”

“He was a very generous man,” Andromeda agreed, looking wistful as well. “It’s not just the
money, it’s also the gesture. It made a statement that we were still family to him, and he did it
publicly and all that.”

“I wish I had more time to get to know him,” Sirius said again. “I wish I had reached out more after
I was disowned. I just never thought...I mean, he was still young, wasn’t he?”

“None of us expected him to die,” Andromeda said, giving Sirius an empathetic look.

“Do you think…” Sirius began, a little hesitant to voice what had been on his mind ever since he
received the news several days before. “Do you think it was our family? That killed him, I mean.”

Andromeda sighed, sharing a look with Ted. “I don’t know, Sirius,” she said. “I do find it quite
hard to believe that he really died from a heart attack. I think that some kind of foul play was
involved, but it’s impossible to know whether it was our family in their greed and hatred
or...someone else.”

“Do you mean Voldemort?” Sirius asked, staring at her. Andromeda and Ted shared a glance,
looking as though they didn’t know how much they should be telling him.

“It’s possible they were trying to recruit him, and he said no,” she told Sirius. Sirius was both
surprised and grateful that she was being direct with him, not treating him like a child who couldn’t
understand. “He went to Hogwarts at the same time as Voldemort, you know. It’s also possible that
they wanted him out of the way. The thing is, the lines separating our family and Death Eaters are
becoming blurred, so it could be both our family and Voldemort involved.”
“Blurred...what do you mean?” Sirius asked, his breath catching at her words. “Are Bellatrix and
Narcissa…”

“From what I’ve heard, yes,” Andromeda said, meeting his eyes, her grey ones full of regret and
sadness. “I mean, I know that Bellatrix is a Death Eater, definitely, and I know that Narcissa’s
husband is one.”

“And...anyone else?” Sirius asked, his eyes burning into Andromeda’s. He didn’t want the answer,
really, but he needed it.

“I haven’t heard anything about Regulus,” Andromeda said, gazing anxiously back at him. “I do
know that things are escalating quickly, though, and from what I’ve heard, Voldemort has begun
recruiting within Hogwarts.”

Sirius was silent for a long time, gazing off into space blankly as his knuckles turned white,
grasping the counter. “He hasn’t even looked me in the eye in more than a year,” he said quietly.
“The past year, every time I see him he’s around the other Slytherins, and he acts like I’m not even
there. Seems like he really fits into their little group, now.”

His tone was bitter, but he couldn’t push the pain away, much as he wanted to. Andromeda gazed
back at him, sympathy filling her expression, and she reached out to grasp his hand. “I know you
don’t want to hear this, Sirius, but it might only be a matter of time,” she said heavily.

Sirius closed his eyes, clenching his jaw as he nodded. He opened them again to look at
Andromeda. “He’ll get himself killed,” he said, his voice sounding small. He continued, stronger
this time. “They’ll get him killed. My parents, teaching him their blood purity bullshit and
expecting him to defend it to the end, telling him to go out and kill and die for it. He’s not a killer,
Andy. Reg was never...he was never able to stomach it whenever my father hit me or my mother
cursed me. I protected him from all of it. And now he’s being brainwashed into believing that he
can go and fight in a war, that he can handle that? He can’t, and he’ll get himself killed because of
it.”

“I know, Sirius,” Andromeda said softly, walking over to him and putting her hands on his
shoulders, locking her grey eyes with his for a moment before pulling him into a hug. “I know.”
After a minute, she pulled back and looked at him, her forehead creased in sorrow. “You might not
believe this, because I know you’ve never much cared for Narcissa, but I feel the same way about
her. She wasn’t ever a cruel child—she was kind and sensitive and caring. She never showed it to
anyone outside of our family, and over time they made her cold and stiff and she pretended to be
unfeeling, but she isn’t. You saw her the night I left…”

She fell silent, and Sirius knew that she, like him, was remembering that night in all its horror. He
did remember; he remembered very clearly the moment when Narcissa had leapt up from her chair,
faster than Sirius, who’d been frozen in place, watching Bellatrix raise her wand towards her sister.
She’d put herself between her oldest and middle sister that night, blocking Andromeda from the
curse on Bellatrix’s lips, begging her sister not to curse her. She might’ve saved Andromeda’s life
that night, and she’d definitely saved Nymphadora’s.

“Narcissa cares about family more than anything else,” Andromeda continued, her voice full of
emotion. “That used to be me, but now it’s Lucius and the rest of the Black family, and she’s going
to be under immense pressure to be part of it all, just like Regulus. I’m scared of what it’ll do to
her. I’m scared that she’ll be killed, and if she isn’t...it’ll twist and warp her soul to make her
unrecognizable to herself.”

Sirius nodded, meeting her eyes and reflecting her own grief back to her. Grief for things and
people that were already lost to them, but still there. They were the same, he realized: two older
siblings who were used to protecting their younger ones for their whole lives, and struggling with
the fact that they had no way to protect them anymore. And, loath as they both were to admit it,
they were also struggling with the fact that both younger siblings in question had turned out to be
much more like the rest of their family than they ever wanted to believe.

“It’s awful,” Sirius said, inhaling sharply, a sharp feeling of pain in his chest. “Because even
though we’re not considered family to them anymore, to us they’ll always be our family, and we
can’t get rid of the feeling that we need to save them, even though we’re not supposed to feel that
way anymore.”

“It’s torture,” Andromeda said, biting her lip, her eyes filling with tears. “But there’s nothing we
can do about it anymore, is there?”

“No, I guess not,” Sirius said resignedly. “I can still try to talk to Regulus at Hogwarts, but he
never listens to me anymore. His friends are rotten.”

“The whole house is rotten,” Andromeda said bitterly. “Everyone who gets sorted into Slytherin is
condemned to be surrounded by people who believe the worst sort of things, it’s awful. It’s not
really about the qualities that get you sorted into Slytherin, it’s about the environment that you get
immersed in as soon as you sit down at that table. The legacy of prejudice and darkness is too
much for most people to overcome. I’ve seen too many people turn dark because of it. It’s sad,
because it should be different, and it could be.”

“Our whole society is rotten,” Sirius remarked. “People say what Voldemort is doing is way out of
left field, but it’s really born out of subtle prejudices that have been entrenched in our world for
centuries. It’s a symptom of a larger issue.”

“Trust me, I’m well aware,” Andromeda said, glancing at Ted again, who was turned towards the
stove once more, allowing them to have their conversation without him intruding. “I don’t think
anyone who was raised like we were raised can deny the entrenched prejudice in our society. No
one who’s escaped from the kind of background we’ve escaped from, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Sirius said. “At least we escaped. We’re the lucky ones, really. Even though they don’t
know it.”

Andromeda smiled, looking past Sirius towards the sitting room, where Nymphadora was still
playing with her stuffed animals. “I know we are,” she said.

After that, Ted announced that dinner was ready, and the four of them sat down at the table, the
conversation turning to lighter topics. Nymphadora told Sirius all about some of the books that her
mother and father were reading to her and the adventures she’d gone on around their town with
Ted’s parents and siblings. Andromeda and Ted told Sirius about their jobs, and asked him about
the subjects he was taking and how seventh year was going, questions he hadn’t had time to
respond to in Andromeda’s last letter. It felt comforting, like being at the Potters’ house with
Euphemia and Fleamont, like being with family. When it got late, Andromeda showed Sirius to
their small guest room, and Sirius undressed so that he was just wearing his pants, climbing under
the covers. Instead of falling asleep immediately, however, he stayed awake for a long time,
thinking over everything that’d happened that day.

It was amazing to him that that morning, he’d had not a knut to his name, and now he had a small
fortune and somewhere to live after Hogwarts. Gratitude washed over him at the thought of Uncle
Alphard, along with another, more complicated emotion. In his first year at Hogwarts, Andromeda
had told him about all the other witches and wizards of the Black family who had, over the
generations, rebelled against the blood elitist ideals their family had taught them. The idea that
Sirius wasn’t alone in his rebellion had given him strength and reassured him that not all the
people he was descended from were awful, that the blood in his veins was not inherently tainted
with evil. Now he knew that he was also not alone within the Black family in another way: his
uncle, who he’d never known too much about when growing up but admired nonetheless, had lived
much of his life with a man. He’d done it in spite of the Black family, refusing to marry a witch
and live a lie.

What Sirius would’ve given to have had this information at the end of his fifth year when he’d
started questioning his sexuality. He’d been so scared then, felt so isolated and alone. Sirius knew
now that he’d never been alone, not even within the Black family, where he’d always felt like an
outsider.

Now, when he thought of Professor Abbott, who’d only been his intelligent and likable Defense
professor up until that point, he also saw the other side of him that was Charles, the man who’d
loved his uncle. Somehow, this other version of Professor Abbott felt separate from his professor
persona, and when Sirius thought of him, sitting at the front row at Alphard’s funeral, he couldn’t
help but think of Remus. Still, Sirius knew it was entirely unrealistic to think of having a
relationship with the other boy, and besides, he felt an overwhelming wave of fear every time the
thought of that possibility arose. His feelings for his friend had only intensified since the summer,
and the stronger they got, the stronger the accompanying feelings of terror and dread also became,
now impossible to ignore.

It was only in times like these, when Sirius was alone in his bed, early in the morning or late at
night, that he could face even thinking about his feelings for Remus. Of course, they were there all
the time: in lessons, at mealtimes, or in the common room. Sirius just had to look over at Remus
for his heart to swell painfully with emotion, and he missed him whenever he wasn’t around. But
Sirius refused to put words to those feelings, even in his mind, until he was alone. The closest he’d
come to saying them out loud was in talking to Andromeda that day, and he’d been immensely
shocked at his own nerve in doing so.

Perhaps it was what he’d learned about Alphard that’d made Sirius feel a sudden sense of urgency
in sharing his own identity. Telling Andromeda hadn’t been enough, however, as the truth now
seemed to have been drawn forward, and he felt as if it was just beneath his skin, itching to burst
free. He couldn’t do anything about that feeling, just now, but perhaps—his heart beat a violent
bruise on the inside of his sternum at the thought—perhaps he’d act on it tomorrow. Even with this
resolution, however, it was a long while before Sirius managed to get to sleep.

....

Early the next morning, Sirius dressed in the normal, Muggle clothes that he’d brought along with
him, stowing away his crumpled dress robes in the pocket of his jeans, which he’d cast another
undetectable extension charm on. He ate breakfast with Andromeda, Ted, and Nymphadora rather
hurriedly, hugged them all goodbye, and then apparated from their back garden to Hogsmeade. He
pulled out James’ invisibility cloak from his pocket and slipped it on, sneaking through
Honeydukes to the secret passage and back to the castle. He pulled himself out of the one-eyed
witch’s hump, closed it with a tap of his wand, and then slipped the invisibility cloak off, stowing
it away. He didn’t need to be invisible anymore.

It was early, and he knew that most people would still be asleep, especially since it was a Sunday.
Therefore, if he wanted to talk to someone, he had two options. The only two people who would be
awake at this time were Marlene and James. Marlene or James? Sirius asked himself, weighing the
options in his head. It only took him a split second to make the decision. The choice was obvious,
and, after all, he had promised.

Sirius had learned early in his sixth year that he could ascend the girls’ dormitory stairs safely
simply by casting a freezing charm on them, and so he found himself, fifteen minutes later,
knocking on the seventh-year girls’ dormitory door softly, trying not to wake anyone who wasn’t
already up. As he’d predicted, Marlene answered, fully dressed and looking puzzled to see him
standing there. He gave her a nervous, half-smile and a shrug.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, meeting her eyes, a rather sheepish expression on his face. “I, uh,
well—I promised I would tell you first when it happened.”

“When what happened? What are you going on about, Sirius?” Marlene asked, her face showing
nothing but confusion. Sirius took a deep breath, then voiced the thing he’d been terrified of saying
aloud for months.

“I think...I think that I’m in love with Remus.”

 1977: The Other Side
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

“Honestly, I’m still stuck on the part where our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was your
dead uncle’s gay lover.”

Marlene and Sirius were walking slowly around the Great Lake on the morning after Alphard
Black’s funeral. The only other person out on the grounds at this early hour was Hagrid, the newly
appointed gamekeeper, who’d been Ogg’s assistant before the old man had retired. Marlene had
never interacted with him other than when he’d led her and the rest of the new students across the
lake to Hogwarts in their first year, though she saw him often from a distance, going about the
grounds. Hagrid, however, was far away from them, tending to what looked like six-foot-tall
pumpkins in his garden, and they were at no risk of their voices carrying all the way over to his
house.

“I thought we’d moved past that,” Sirius replied, taking a puff of his cigarette and casting a
disbelieving look her way. “I don’t think you got the point of my story, Marley. Did you miss the
bit about me being in love with Remus?”

“No, I didn’t miss that bit, thanks,” Marlene said sarcastically. “It’s just a lot to take in at once.”

“You’re telling me,” Sirius said, sighing.

“So, do you think you’re bisexual, then?” Marlene asked, peering at his profile cautiously. She’d
decided not to comment on the cigarette, which he’d pulled out as soon as they got to the lakeside.
Sirius had never smoked in front of her before, though she’d smelled it on him several times over
the previous year.

“Yeah, I reckon I must be,” Sirius said, frowning slightly. “You know, you coming out to me really
triggered something in me. Now, don’t take offense to this, or anything—”

“Jaysus,” Marlene chuckled, shaking her head. “That’s never a good start to a sentence.”

Sirius rolled his eyes at her but smiled. “Anyway,” he said, continuing. “You know how I sought
you out at the beginning of sixth year? We’d been flirting a bit, all in good fun, but it was me that
first made a move and proposed our little arrangement.”

“I remember,” Marlene said, looking at him curiously, wondering where he was going with this.

“Well, you know you’re fit and all that,” he said, casting her a sheepish smile. “But what really
made me go to you, at first, was because I was really confused about some of the thoughts I’d been
having about Remus. My logic at the time was that if I liked snogging you, I’d know that I didn’t
like blokes.”

Marlene stared at him incredulously for a second, then burst out laughing. “Wow, are you
serious?” she demanded finally, grinning at him. For once, Sirius ignored the opportunity to make
a pun, and just frowned at her, looking offended. “That’s absolutely legendary. I was your
experiment! If I could tell James about this, he’d get a right laugh out of it.”

“I know it’s dim,” Sirius said, scrunching up his face in embarrassment. “And of course, I did end
up enjoying fooling around with you, so that’s why I wanted to keep our little arrangement going. It
wasn’t just an “experiment,” or whatever. But yeah, I wasn’t aware that someone could like more
than just one gender. When you told me, I felt like a real dunce.”

“Most people “experiment” with the same gender as them to see if they’re gay,” Marlene said,
giggling, doing big air quotes every time she said the word experiment. “While you
“experimented” with me, a girl, to prove to yourself that you were straight. You really are one of a
kind, Sirius.”

“You’re not mad, are you?” Sirius asked, giving her a tentative grin before taking his last puff from
the cigarette, then vanishing it with his wand casually.

“No, I’m not mad,” Marlene assured him. “If you and I had been in any way romantic back then, I
would be, but it was no strings from the beginning. Anyway, who am I to be angry at you? I had
feelings for Dorcas for a while before we ended things.”

“True,” Sirius said, laughing. “What a pair we are.”

“I get it, though,” Marlene said more seriously. “It was hard for me to understand, too, the whole
thing about liking more than one gender. Usually, you hear about gays and lesbians and then, like,
straight people or whatever. But I figured, I know I’m interested in both, so it must exist, you
know?”

Sirius nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I never learned more about people, well, people like us than the
random slurs my parents would sometimes spout. Over the years I think I picked up a few things,
but never more than that.”

Marlene nodded fervently. “And you can’t ask, either,” she said frustratedly. “Because then people
will assume you are one. Which, like, I am. But I’m not sure who I want to know that. It’s bloody
scary what you read about, like, people getting hurt for being...well, you know.”

Sirius sighed. “It seems like it’s worse in our world, even,” he said. “From what I’ve learned about
Muggles, they’re in general a little less traditional than wizards as a whole, at least as far as I know,
in Britain.”

“Wizards are backwards,” Marlene agreed, shaking her head. She paused, kicking a stick aside as
she walked. “I’m scared to tell my parents. Hell, I’m scared to tell anyone.”

“I don’t know if I’ll tell anyone,” Sirius said. “Maybe it’ll pass. The Remus thing, anyway. Then I
can ignore it.”

Marlene stopped and gave him an incredulous look. “You’ve got to be joking, Sirius,” she said. He
tilted his head, staring at her in confusion. She rolled her eyes. “It’s not going to pass, d’you
understand that? Even if it does with Remus, it’s not just Remus. You could fall for anyone, at any
time! You really want to go your whole life hiding from people you care about? From people like
James?”

Sirius blinked, and Marlene felt a little poorly for speaking at him sharply. To cover, she began to
walk again, and he matched her pace, continuing to move around the lake as Sirius contemplated
her words. “So, are you going to tell people, then?” he asked her. Marlene squared her shoulders.

“I’m going to,” she said, trying to put as much conviction into her words as she could, though her
voice shook slightly, nevertheless. She glanced at him, letting the façade fall as she sighed. “I just
don’t know when. Or how. Or how I’ll muster up the courage.”

“If anyone can muster up the courage, it’s you, Marley,” Sirius replied, smiling at her. “You’re
fearless most of the time, anyway. You’ve got to be scared sometimes.”

She laughed. “Sure, but I still hate it,” she said. “Anyway, you of all people know I’m scared a lot
of the time. I just don’t show it.”

“Are you scared of how you feel about Dee?” Sirius asked, glancing at her.

“Terrified,” Marlene admitted, smiling despite herself. “But it’s also exciting, almost exhilarating. I
think if I wasn’t scared, it wouldn’t feel so important, you know?”

“Maybe,” Sirius said hesitantly. Marlene plowed on.

“Of course, I’ve fancied people before, and liking someone is always fun. It feels nice, when
you’ve got butterflies and things. Fancying Dorcas feels like that, but with something extra added
on, probably because I already loved her before all of this. It’s extra terrifying because of that, too,
but it also feels like a natural continuation of what we’ve always been, somehow, at least on my
end. I can’t say anything about how she feels. I doubt it’ll be the same.” Marlene finished her
speech rather lamely, frowning as she was brought back to reality.

Sirius nodded thoughtfully. “It sort of feels like that with Remus, like I was always building up to
feeling this way about him, or maybe even that I’ve always felt this about him,” he admitted. “Me
and Remus, we’ve never been like me and James, or me and you. It’s just always felt like he was in
another category, and I could never explain why.”

Marlene nodded, smiling at him knowingly. Sirius took a deep breath and looked back at her. “It’s
paralyzing, though,” he said. “The feeling, the fear—I can’t explain it, but it’s too overwhelming. I
don’t want it.”

Marlene frowned, feeling at a loss for what to say. She couldn’t talk Sirius out of his fear, as she
couldn’t even make her own go away. Still, while she’d made friends with her own terror, Sirius
clearly hadn’t. The fact that he’d been able to admit his feelings to himself, and now to her, was
promising, but still, on the other side of that confession, Sirius’ fear was still firmly in place.

“I think you don’t have to decide anything now,” she responded finally. “How you handle
everything that’s going on, or who you tell, or any of it. Maybe you should just try to get used to
everything on your own before you tell other people.”

“I’ve been trying to do that,” Sirius said, letting out a frustrated sigh. “It doesn’t seem to be getting
easier, though.”

“You’ve been facing this head-on for only a few months, right?” Marlene asked, smiling slightly.
“Cut yourself some slack. You’ll figure it out.”

“How long until you felt better about it?” Sirius asked. Marlene hesitated. Privately, she thought
that Sirius had a great deal more than her to contend with before he got to the place where she was,
but perhaps he would get a handle on his issues unusually quickly, as he did with everything.

“I’ve been figuring this out since May,” Marlene said. “I’m not sure there was a point I suddenly
felt better about it, but telling you helped a lot. That was late July, so two months in. You’re on
track.”

“I’m not a patient person,” Sirius grumbled, and Marlene laughed.

“Neither am I,” she admitted. “But I don’t think there’s any way to fast forward through this
experience.”
They walked in silence for a few moments, and it was Sirius who broke it, peering at Marlene.
“Are you going to tell Dorcas how you feel about her?”

Marlene sighed. This question had been nagging at her since the summer. Most of the time she
balked at the idea, but she couldn’t get it out of her head. “I don’t know,” she replied. “Part of me
wants to, and most of me thinks that it’s a crazy idea. The thing is, if I decide to tell people about
me, I know I have to tell her. Most people would expect me to tell her first. You did.”

“I did,” Sirius admitted. “So you’re worried that it might look strange if she wasn’t the first person
you told, or if you didn’t tell her at all?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Marlene admitted. “But I’m terrified to tell her about me. And I’m a terrible
liar, Sirius, you know I am. Dorcas sees right through me more than anyone. If I tell her that I like
girls, I feel as if she’ll know immediately that I have feelings for her.”

“You don’t have to tell her, Marley, at least not right away,” Sirius said. “And you don’t have to
tell the people that you do tell that you haven’t told Dorcas.”

“I suppose,” Marlene said, sighing. “But then who do I tell? How do I pick?”

“Maybe,” Sirius said, his eyes lighting with an idea. “You should start with someone easy.
Someone who you’d want to know, but not someone close enough to you that you’d be really
nervous about whether they would see you differently.”

“Someone who’s a friend, but whose opinion of me doesn’t matter to me?” Marlene asked wryly,
raising her eyebrows at him. “Surely you don’t mean—”

“Think about it,” Sirius said, interrupting her excitedly. “Of all people, do you really think she
would judge you?”

Marlene hesitated, then huffed out an exasperated sigh. “No, I don’t.”

....

It took two whole weeks for Marlene to work up the courage to speak to Lily. Finally, she cornered
her roommate on a Monday after lunch, in the girls’ toilets. She’d planned it well: Dorcas and
Mary both had Care of Magical Creatures after lunch on Mondays, so neither of their closest
friends would be around to ask where they were. Therefore, Marlene followed Lily into the
bathroom and waited, leaning back against the sink and tapping her fingers on its cool, porcelain
surface.

Several other girls left the bathroom before Lily emerged, all giving Marlene strange looks as they
exited. Marlene ignored them and locked the door magically once they’d all left, then went back to
her waiting position. Finally, Lily emerged from the stall. When she caught sight of the other girl,
she raised her eyebrows, then walked over to wash her hands in the sink next to Marlene.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Lily asked, her tone amused.

“I want to talk to you,” Marlene said, determined to keep her voice steady and confident. Lily
smiled.

“Is this how you usually start conversations with people, trapping them in the toilets so that they
can’t get away from you?” Lily asked, laughing lightly. “Should I be afraid?”

“Maybe,” Marlene said, letting out a short, slightly hysterical laugh, which she quickly stifled,
feeling annoyed with herself. Lily dried her hands, now looking concerned, then turned to face
Marlene, her full attention on her.

“I’m listening.”

“I’m gay.” The words came out of her mouth faster than Marlene would’ve believed possible,
tumbling from her lips before she could slow them down. Lily’s eyebrows shot up so high that they
almost met her hairline, but her eyes remained calm. There was a pause.

“You’re gay?” Lily echoed back as if to confirm that Marlene had meant to say the words she’d
uttered. Marlene nodded, taking a deep breath and trying to slow her heart rate.

“I am,” she said. “I—I fancy girls. And boys, too. I’m bisexual.”

“Alright,” Lily said. Her expression was calm, but not easy to read. Marlene studied it, looking for
her reaction. “Thank you for telling me, Marlene,” Lily added, giving her a small smile. “I’m glad
you trusted me enough to tell me.”

She moved forward towards Marlene, and Marlene had to resist the urge to flinch back. Her
muscles were tight, nerves on edge. But when Lily opened her arms to hug her, she relaxed into the
embrace. It was alright. Lily was not recoiling from her.

When Lily moved back, she was still smiling, but there was something in her expression that
Marlene wasn’t sure how to define. It looked almost like triumph, but that couldn’t be right.

“I needed to test this whole thing out on someone,” Marlene said almost defensively, trying to
cover her moment of vulnerability, as her heart felt like it was exposed, beating out of her chest.
“You know, coming out. Someone who I could practice on, before I told—well, other people.”

Lily smiled again, and this smile put Marlene more at ease, as it felt like it was for Marlene only.
“I’m honored to be chosen,” she said. “I have an aunt who’s a lesbian. She’s in a relationship with
another woman, and they’ve been together for as long as I’ve been alive.”

“Really?” Marlene asked, completely taken aback. She’d never met anyone gay before, never even
heard it spoken about. “What—how does that work?” As soon as she’d asked the question, she felt
extremely foolish, her face reddening, but Lily didn’t laugh.

“They love each other,” Lily responded simply. “They love each other in just about the same way
as my parents love each other. They’re not married, but Eileen—my Aunt Ella’s girlfriend—she’s
my family. That’s just how it is. It’s normal.”

“Oh,” Marlene said, not sure of what else to say. It felt like there was an explosion going on in her
chest at the idea that relationships like that could exist in the real world, that it was possible.
“Thanks.” She was sure that wasn’t the right thing to say, but it was the only thing she could think
of, and it was honest. She couldn’t express what Lily had just given her, but perhaps Lily would
understand anyway.

“Of course,” Lily said, giving her a small smile. “So, you haven’t told anyone else yet?”

“I’ve told Sirius,” Marlene responded quickly. “But no one else.”

Lily nodded, examining her face closely. “Who are you most afraid of telling?”

Marlene let out a huff of breath, laughing nervously and playing with a lock of her hair.
“Everyone,” she said. “My parents, maybe. Or…”
She trailed off, staring at Lily, who was looking right back at her. Her expression was open, and
there was nothing about it that was knowing or expectant. Still, Marlene had the odd feeling that
Lily did know what she was thinking, or that she was expecting something. Sure enough—

“You don’t have to worry about her reaction,” Lily said after a moment of silence between them.

“Whose reaction?” Marlene asked slowly, studying Lily through slightly narrowed eyes.

“Dorcas’,” Lily said. “If you’re worried about her judging you or anything, you shouldn’t. She
won’t do anything like that.”

“You can’t know that,” Marlene said, still looking at Lily warily. Lily shrugged.

“Trust me,” she said. “You should tell her.”

Marlene felt exposed under Lily’s gaze, though it was not piercing nor threatening. Still, why did it
seem as if Lily knew exactly what was going through Marlene’s mind? Was she imagining things,
or had Lily truly seen right through her in a single moment? Still, Marlene couldn’t ask her, as that
would just expose her further.

“I’ll try,” she said. Lily nodded and smiled.

“I hope this goes without saying, but I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you,” Marlene said, wrapping her arms around her middle protectively. “It might take me a
while to work up the courage to tell more people.”

“Take all the time you need, Marley,” Lily said, giving her another comforting smile. “There’s no
rush.” Marlene nodded and let out a soft breath.

Still, she wasn’t sure that Lily’s statement was true. There was a sense of urgency driving her
forward. Perhaps it was just that she was seventeen years old, and everything in her life felt big and
important, especially her feelings for Dorcas. Still, apart from that, she had a slightly anxious voice
at the back of her head which whispered to her: Now or never.

....

October dissolved quickly into November, and Marlene felt vaguely sad as she attended the
Halloween feast, realizing that this would be her last one at Hogwarts. Still, nostalgia took a
backseat in her mind as she focused all her attention and energy trying to muster up the courage to
come out to Dorcas, which took her another full week and a half from her conversation with Lily.
True to her word, Lily said nothing on the subject to anyone, but Marlene hadn’t even been worried
that she would. Quite apart from being a trustworthy person, Lily was too busy to give Marlene’s
issues a second thought.

James, too, was busier than Marlene had ever known him to be. The responsibilities of being Head
Boy and Girl were no joke, and on top of James’ Quidditch captaincy, he was struggling. In
addition to their official duties, James and Lily had taken it upon themselves to set up a system of
students who would report to them on any goings on in the castle related to Voldemort. They’d
managed to get a few students from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, in addition to all the seventh-year
Gryffindors, and several younger students, to consent to keep their eyes open and report back. So
far, however, there was no information to be gathered, and Marlene guessed that they wouldn’t be
able to find out much without a member of Slytherin house working with them.

Peter’s girlfriend, Layla Greengrass, had been reluctant to take up the position, saying that she
could keep her ears open, but that she didn’t think her housemates would say anything important in
front of her. Marlene, for her part, didn’t think that Layla was willing to risk getting on the wrong
side of her housemates for them. Though James didn’t say this to Peter, Marlene thought that he,
too, didn’t have much confidence in the Slytherin girl.

James’ busyness, therefore, was Marlene’s excuse as to why she hadn’t come out to him yet, either.
Still, it was a rather feeble one, as she saw him every day, and they were spending more and more
time in Quidditch practice together as the first game of the season—which was to be played against
Slytherin—approached. During their last practice, Marlene had even volunteered to help James put
the balls away afterward, thinking of using the opportunity to tell him her news, but her nerve had
failed her, and they’d just ended up talking about Sirius’ birthday, which was in the middle of that
week.

Sirius had shrugged off his birthday that year, wanting to focus on Quidditch. “We’ll win the
match on Saturday, then we’ll celebrate,” he said when they asked him what he wanted to do.

Still, on the morning of Sirius’ birthday, Marlene greeted him in the common room with a hug and
handed him the new Beater gloves she’d gotten him.

“Thanks, Marley,” Sirius said, smiling at her. “Just in time for the big game.”

“Of course,” Marlene said, as they headed for the portrait hole to go down to breakfast. “You’re
not nervous, are you? You’ve seemed a bit, well, off.”

“I’m a bit nervous, yeah,” Sirius admitted. “James told me that Regulus is playing Seeker for
Slytherin this year.”

“Yeah,” Marlene said, glancing over at him. “You’re worried about playing against him?”

“I’m worried about looking at him, these days,” Sirius admitted tiredly. “Walking by him in a
corridor is fucking difficult, even, just because he won’t look at me. I hate the idea of watching him
not pretend I don’t exist for a whole Quidditch game.”

“That’s shit, I’m sorry,” Marlene said, looking at him sympathetically, feeling quite helpless. “Is
that why you’re not in the birthday spirit?”

Sirius let out a bark of laughter. “Quite honestly, I forgot my birthday was coming up until James
mentioned it. That’s how it usually goes, though.”

“But you’re usually so excited about your birthdays,” Marlene said, her brow furrowing. Sirius
laughed again.

“Yeah, I do like them,” he admitted. “But I never celebrated my birthday when I was a kid, so I’m
just not in the habit of remembering it by myself. I like that you all care enough to remind me and
want to celebrate, and I like being the center of attention for a day, but it’s not something that I
really need to celebrate.”

“You didn’t do anything for your birthday before Hogwarts?” Marlene demanded, shocked. Sirius’
expression twitched, and he shrugged, glancing away from her.

“Reg would sometimes remind me when he was old enough to remember,” he said. “Not that there
was much to do around Grimmauld Place, anyway. One year, we found our way into my father’s
liquor cabinet and got totally sloshed. Of course, we were only kids, so it didn’t take much, and we
puked our guts out afterward.”
Marlene smiled, imagining the scene. “How old were you?”

“That was my eleventh birthday. Reg had just turned nine,” Sirius said, grinning. His smile faded
quickly, expression darkening. “Of course, we were caught.”

Marlene knew what that look on his face meant, and didn’t ask anything further. She’d spent a
whole year, after all, talking with Sirius in abandoned parts of the castle, both of them sharing
confidences. She knew the exact look on his face that meant that they’d reached the end of what he
was willing to say about his family: his eyes went to steel, anger blazed in them, and the rest of his
face became impassive, numb. In his eyes, Marlene saw him go into a dark room and the door slam
behind him, shutting her and everyone else out of whatever happened within. She wondered if he
would ever let anyone get past that point.

They ate breakfast quickly, then headed down to the Quidditch pitch to practice. Luckily for them,
their team lineup hadn’t changed in the past year, so they all already worked seamlessly together.
By the end of the practice, Marlene was in a good mood, confident in their chances against
Slytherin on Saturday. She showered quickly, then left the locker room with Sirius, leaving James
talking to Kingsley and Georgie.

“Common room?” Marlene inquired, looking over at him. Sirius nodded and they directed their
steps there. Neither had classes to go to that day, so they spent the rest of the morning working
together on an essay for Transfiguration the next day. They nearly forgot about lunch until Mary
came downstairs from the girls’ dormitory, still bleary-eyed from sleeping in too long, and asked
them if they wanted to walk down to the Great Hall with her.

There, they ate with Mary and Dorcas, who both told them excitedly about how they were finally
learning about dragons in Care of Magical Creatures. Of course, they couldn’t bring dragons to
study onto the Hogwarts grounds and were just learning theory at the moment, but Professor
Kettleburn had told them that they were to visit a dragon sanctuary the following week to observe
them and learn from the wizards who worked there.

“So I suppose that’s why you haven’t taken off your dragon earrings for the last few days?”
Marlene asked Dorcas, smiling at her. Dorcas beamed back.

“I can’t help it. I’m just so excited,” she gushed. “I’m so glad I didn’t drop Care of Magical
Creatures even though it’s not required for being a Healer. I would’ve been so sad if I’d missed
learning about dragons!”

“I’ll admit, I’m jealous,” Sirius said, smiling. “Dragons are the most impressive creatures I’ve ever
heard of. Still, I like to eat and sleep, so it’s probably good I didn’t take more N.E.W.T.s.” They all
laughed, even Dorcas, who was well used to the others poking fun at her tendency to pile on more
schoolwork than she could handle.

“Food and sleep are nice,” she remarked. “But dragons are a necessity. After all, I have to get my
kicks somewhere. What’s life without a little risk?”

Her eyebrows were raised, a small, teasing smile playing across her face as she looked at Sirius and
Marlene, clearly poking fun at them. Marlene felt a swooping feeling in her stomach, and hitched a
hasty smile onto her face, concealing her nerves from Dorcas’ statement. It was like Dorcas knew
that Marlene was trying to work up the courage to talk to her.

Twenty minutes later, when Dorcas and Mary headed off to Care of Magical Creatures along with
Remus and Peter, Sirius and Marlene returned to the common room. Having finished the
Transfiguration essay, they moved on to their other work, or at least, Sirius did. Marlene tried to
work, but her mind was preoccupied. She found herself staring at her empty piece of parchment
where her Charms essay was supposed to be, twirling her quill between her fingers absently.

“Sirius,” she said suddenly, making him lift his head from his own work and look at her, eyebrows
raised, perplexed. She hesitated, not sure anymore of the statement she was about to utter.

“What?” he asked, looking slightly amused by her abrupt pause. She looked at him, her eyes
slightly unfocused, then stood.

“I’m going for a walk,” she said lamely. He stared at her for a moment, then smiled and looked
back down at his parchment, his face showing only resignation and amusement at her strange
mood.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll be here.” Marlene nodded, trying to find her bearings, then made to head
towards the portrait hole.

“Wait,” Sirius called after her, and she turned to see him, still looking slightly amused. “Stop
turning it over in your mind and tell her, alright? Think of it as a birthday present to me.”

Marlene just stared at him, feeling utterly out of sorts. She thought she gave a little grunt, then,
instead of speaking, turned and left, heading towards the grounds, where she hoped she might be
able to think more clearly.

Marlene walked around the outside of the castle for two whole hours, doing precisely what Sirius
had told her not to do and continuing to turn it over in her mind. At this point, however, Marlene’s
thoughts were going in circles, moving around and around the central point, which was the
prospect of coming out to Dorcas. Marlene had played the scene in her head many times, imagining
what she would say, what Dorcas would reply, and how it would all happen. Sometimes, her brain
showed her scenes where Dorcas stormed out, disgusted. In others, talk fell away as Dorcas strode
across the room and took Marlene in her arms, kissing her. Marlene had to shake away her thoughts
of the latter, telling herself not to be so presumptuous. She wasn’t even going to tell Dorcas about
her feelings for her. The most she could hope for, she told herself, was the feeling of a burden
being lifted, and her friend’s acceptance of it.

Marlene wasn’t sure at what point she’d headed back to the castle. She didn’t know when her feet
turned towards the Grand Staircase, foregoing the Great Hall, where she could hear the sounds of
hundreds of students having dinner. She didn’t remember mounting the stairs, only finding herself
outside the Fat Lady when she gave her the password. The common room was mostly empty, as
everyone was at dinner. Dreamlike, Marlene bypassed it and mounted the stairs to the girls'
dormitory, figuring that it would be empty, with all of her roommates eating.

She was wrong. Marlene froze in the doorway as she entered, seeing Dorcas standing with her back
to her, taking off her earrings and placing them on her side table. She’d already changed out of her
school uniform into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, and had released her hair from its bun, curls
now falling over her shoulders. Marlene, realizing that she’d been holding her breath, released it,
letting the door shut behind her as she did so. Dorcas turned, startled by the noise, then smiled at
Marlene.

“Hey,” Dorcas said. “Why weren’t you at dinner?” She looked so beautiful, Marlene thought, just
standing there, hair loose, armor gone.

“I was...uh,” Marlene started, her mouth very dry. “I was walking.”

“Okay,” Dorcas said, smiling slightly.

“Why aren’t you at dinner?” Marlene asked, feeling very detached from the conversation,
somehow.

“I ate quickly,” Dorcas said. “I haven’t finished the Transfiguration essay or my Muggle Studies
reading for tomorrow morning, so I need to get to work.”

“Oh,” Marlene said, torn for a moment. “I guess I should—” She turned to leave again, not quite
sure where she was going.

“Wait!” Dorcas called after her, and Marlene turned, almost dreading looking at her best friend
again. Dorcas had a look of slight concern on her face. “Is something wrong, Marley?”

“Wrong?” Marlene said, her voice coming out in a squeak. “What would be wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Dorcas said. “You’re just acting strange. Are you nervous about the game?”

“The—?” Marlene had completely forgotten about the game for a moment. “No, I’m not worried
about the game.”

“So what is it, then?” Dorcas asked. Her expression was expectant and tinged with slight concern.
Marlene couldn’t bear Dorcas looking at her like that. Right then, she desperately wanted one of
the other girls to walk in and interrupt them, but no sounds came from the staircase behind the
closed door. Marlene stood and stared at Dorcas for a long moment, and, from across the room,
Dorcas stared back, looking slightly worried. There was a buzzing in Marlene’s ears, as though the
silence in the room had come to life and was fighting back. Marlene wasn’t sure how long they
stood in silence before she opened her mouth, and when she did, the words that came out of it were
a far cry from the ones that she’d planned to say.

“I’m in love with you.”

Had it happened? Had Marlene really said those words? She’d never even admitted them to herself
until that point, never said that particular phrase when talking to Sirius about her feelings for her
best friend. Nevertheless, Marlene’s utterance seemed to have broken the spell upon her, making
her suddenly aware of herself in a way that she hadn’t been for the past few hours. Now, on the
other side of the confession, the room came into clearer focus, when before it seemed to have been
slightly blurred around the edges. Suddenly, she could feel the cool air against her skin and
realized dimly that one of the other girls must’ve left a window open. She also realized that she’d
been walking around without a sweater in November for several hours.

After the split second it took to take all of this in, however, Marlene focused back on Dorcas’ face,
and this, above all else, was what made the situation feel truly real to her. Dorcas’ lips were parted,
her eyes were wide, and she was staring at Marlene. Her expression showed nothing but shock. She
looked frozen, just as Marlene had been seconds before. Marlene’s heart, whose beating seemed to
have been paused previously, now began to pound rapidly in her chest again. Blood rushed into her
cheeks as she looked back at Dorcas, waiting. The words which had so carelessly slipped from her
lips were now floating in the air between them, and Marlene couldn’t take them back.

There was a long silence. Marlene waited, staring at Dorcas, and Dorcas stared back, apparently at
a loss for what to say. Hot, burning shame rose up in Marlene as she watched Dorcas struggle to
reply to her sudden, unwanted pronouncement. The buzzing in her ears returned, louder and more
 insistent this time, like that of angry bees. Finally, the moment was broken, not by either of them,
but by footsteps outside the door. It swung open, and Emmeline nearly walked into Marlene, who
was still standing right inside the doorway.

“Sorry,” Emmeline said, stepping back, and Marlene turned, moving out of the way of the door.
Behind Emmeline were Lily, Mary, and Hestia, and all four girls quickly took in the scene. While
Emmeline, Hestia, and Mary looked confused, Lily had a look of dawning comprehension on her
face. She locked eyes with Marlene, and it was Lily’s knowing look that finally overwhelmed her.
She didn’t look back to see if Dorcas was still standing there or say anything to her other
dormmates. She bolted out the door, pushing past all of them before anyone could call her back.

Down the staircase she ran, and she didn’t hesitate in the common room before running up the
adjoining boys’ staircase. Sirius had to be there. He had to be. Pushing open the door, she stepped
inside and was relieved to see him, sitting on his bed, reading a book. Both he and Remus, who was
standing next to his own bed, looked up as Marlene stormed inside.

“Sirius,” she said breathlessly, staring at him, her eyes wild.

“Yeah?” Sirius said, looking amused again, just as he had done earlier in the day when she’d been
acting so oddly.

“I told her,” Marlene said, her heartbeat fast and her face still flushed. “I told her everything.”

Sirius stared at her for a few moments, his grey eyes scanning her face before speaking. “Well,
fuck,” he said, putting his book down on his bed and standing up. “Happy fucking birthday to me.”
Remus didn’t comment as Sirius strode out of the dormitory, towing Marlene behind him like a
raft, and they headed into the grounds for another much-needed talk.

Chapter End Notes

So, it’s happened!!!! I’m so excited to be finally getting to this point. I do enjoy
making you all endure the cliffhanger :)

Unrelated: I’ve been thinking a lot about how much Dorcas and Marlene would have
LOVED Buffy the Vampire Slayer if they had been alive to see it. Lily, too. I’ve been
watching BTVS with my roommates for a bit because they’ve never seen it (they’re
loving it, we’re on season 4), and I saw an Instagram post the other day that got me
thinking about BTVS/marauders. Random. (Update: I have now written a Buffy-
themed Dorlene one-shot called “Under Your Spell.” Check it out if you’re interested.
It’s not part of this universe, it’s a college AU.)

Also, I was wondering, I know since this is a fic with multiple narrators, you guys
must have people you like to hear about the most and people you don’t. I’m curious if
there is a character whose chapters you think are more boring, since I always find in
books with multiple narrators there’s always someone I care about less. Obviously, I
love them all, but I’m curious about your thoughts.
 1977: I Need My Girl
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

“I’m in love with you.”

Had it happened? Had Marlene really said those words? They seemed to drift across to Dorcas
through a haze, reaching her far later than they should’ve. When Dorcas did hear them, they
reverberated in her ears, echoing over and over. Time had stopped. The room had seemed to blur
around the edges, and only Marlene’s face, now flooded with color again, was shown in sharp
relief. Dorcas just gaped at her. She couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t a dream.

She wasn’t sure how long she stared at Marlene, how long the other girl stared back in silence,
waiting for her response, which didn’t seem very forthcoming. Dorcas was in shock, struck dumb
by the words. Everything in her world had turned upside down. Marlene McKinnon was straight.
Dorcas had assumed it, she’d based her decision to never, ever tell her of her feelings for her on
that fact. But now…

The door of the dormitory swung open, revealing Emmeline. Dorcas hadn’t registered the sounds
of footsteps outside, hadn’t been prepared for the moment to be shattered. Now, it was broken, and
Marlene was turning away, receiving Emmeline’s apology, then, without a backward glance at her,
leaving the room with Dorcas, still mute, in her wake.

It was Lily’s gaze on her that eventually broke Dorcas out of her trance. Her friend’s green eyes
were sympathetic, too sympathetic. She knows, Dorcas thought wildly. How does she know?

“Everything alright, Dee?” Hestia asked. Dorcas looked at her for the first time. Her eyebrows
were raised, and the concerned expression on her face was mirrored by the other girls.

“Fine,” Dorcas replied, trying to make her voice sound natural, though it ended up just coming out
slightly robotic. “Marlene didn’t have dinner, so she had to run to the kitchens. I’m just going to
study, now.”

She knew she didn’t sound convincing but she couldn’t muster up anything better at the moment.
Climbing into her four-poster bed, she drew the curtains around her, wrapping her arms around her
knees. She glanced next to her, seeing the books she’d stacked on her bed, which reminded her that
she really did have to do schoolwork. She looked away from them. That wouldn’t be happening
that night.

Her curtains opened on one side, and Dorcas looked up to see Lily there, peering inside. “Can I
come in?” Lily asked.

Dorcas gave a noncommittal shrug, which Lily clearly took as assent, as she climbed into the bed
and closed the curtains tightly behind her. Waving her wand, she cast a silencing charm on the bed
so that none of the rest of the girls in their dormitory could listen in on their conversation.

“So?” Lily asked, prompting Dorcas, her gaze intent upon her. “What happened?” Dorcas stared at
Lily for a few seconds, eyes scanning her face suspiciously before speaking.
“You know,” Dorcas said, something akin to an accusation in her voice. “How do you know?”

Lily’s eyes searched Dorcas’ face for a second, then she sighed. “Marlene told me,” she admitted.
“Almost two weeks ago. She said she wanted to tell you, but she was scared to.”

“Why could she tell you if she was too scared to tell me?” Dorcas asked, again unable to take the
note of reproach out of her voice. She knew she had no reason to be angry with Lily, but it bothered
her. There was also the fact that the absurdity of Marlene going to Lily before Dorcas to confide in
was much easier to deal with than the contents of Marlene’s confession.

“She said she needed someone to practice on, someone less...well, close,” Lily said. “But it seemed
like she really wanted to tell you.”

“Then why did she run?” Dorcas asked slightly hysterically. “Why did she tell me she was in love
with me and then just bolt?”

Lily’s eyes grew to the size of saucers and her mouth fell open. “She’s in love with you?!” she
demanded, her voice a shocked whisper. Dorcas stared back at her, horror setting in as she realized
her mistake.

“She didn’t tell you,” she said, her voice a barely audible whisper. “You didn’t know.” Lily shook
her head silently. Dorcas buried her head in her hands.

“She told me that she was bisexual,” Lily said. “I...well, I hoped—but I didn’t know.”

Dorcas lifted her head and stared at Lily. “Bisexual?” she asked. “Does that mean she likes women
and men?” Lily nodded. Dorcas let out a cry of frustration, wringing her hands now.

“All these years, I thought—I thought that I couldn’t—that it could never…” She trailed off, the
energy suddenly leaving her as she stared at Lily. Her roommate’s face exhibited no confusion, and
no more shock than what’d already been present at the revelation of Marlene’s feelings, just
sympathetic understanding. This was confirmation, then, that Lily had known about Dorcas since
the previous year.

“So you do know,” Dorcas breathed out. “I—well, I knew you did, but you never brought it up, so I
wondered if I was wrong.”

Lily gave Dorcas a sad smile. “I didn’t think you wanted to talk about it.”

“I didn’t,” Dorcas admitted, looking down at her hands. It took a few more seconds for her to
muster up the courage to look back up at Lily. She took a deep breath, meeting her friend’s eyes
again, then said: “I do now.”

Lily nodded, clasping her hands in her lap and looking at Dorcas expectantly. Dorcas steeled
herself for what she was about to say, taking another deep breath, trying to clear the constricted
feeling from her throat. She’d never spoken these words aloud before, not to anyone.

“I figured it out in third year,” she said. Her palms were sweating slightly, and she’d begun to rub
at the skin of her left palm, a nervous habit she’d had since she’d been a child. “Everyone else was
starting to notice each other in a special sort of way, you remember. All anyone could talk about
was who was dating who, who fancied who, and I...well, first I thought I was just a late bloomer.
Then, I started to notice things. Things I shouldn’t have noticed, about other girls. I tried to
convince myself it wasn’t what I thought it was and tried to talk myself into liking blokes, but of
course, there’s no talking yourself into something like that.”
Lily nodded, her gaze intent on Dorcas’ face as she told her story. “Was it always Marlene?” she
asked quietly as the pause grew longer while Dorcas caught her breath, overwhelmed by what
she’d just revealed and everything else she still had to tell.

Dorcas shook her head. “Not always,” she said. “But nearly. It didn’t take that long after I figured it
out that I started to fancy her. I think it was inevitable. I’ve always loved her, of course, so falling
in love with her was easy.”

“Third year,” Lily repeated, staring at Dorcas, her expression sad. “You’ve never said anything to
anyone, all this time?” Dorcas shook her head and felt tears spring into her eyes, which she quickly
blinked away.

“Not once,” she admitted, clearing her throat. “You were the first person to know, though I never
even told you. You just knew. I always wondered how you could’ve figured it out when no one
else had, all those years.”

“Well, it was only in sixth that I noticed,” Lily said, shrugging. “I realized it when I saw your
reaction to Sirius and Marlene.” Dorcas smiled wryly. The pain of the previous year was easy to
call back to the surface.

“I suppose I wasn’t so good at concealing my feelings about them,” she conceded. “No one was
looking but you, though, I suppose.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Lily said. “But other people might’ve been looking for something
different. Most people around here wouldn’t expect to see one girl fancying another, so they just
wouldn’t see it, even if it was right under their nose.”

Dorcas nodded, feeling slightly numb, looking down at her hands. The palm of her left hand tingled
slightly from her rubbing of it. “I’m a lesbian,” she said after a moment, looking back up at Lily,
her gaze frantic. “That’s what I am, isn’t it?”

“If that’s what you feel like you are,” Lily said gently. “Then, yes.”

“I’ve been so ashamed,” Dorcas said, her gaze trailing over the folds in the fabric of her curtains
rather than looking at Lily. She was trying to prevent tears from coming again, the burning at the
back of her eyes announcing their imminent arrival. “I thought I’d live my whole life and never tell
anyone. I thought I’d never get to be in love with anyone and have them love me back in the same
way. I told myself that I could be in Marlene’s life as her best friend and that was the best I could
hope for.” Her voice was really trembling now, and she tried to steady it, tried again to push back
whatever was causing her throat to tighten.

Lily reached out across the covers and put her hand over Dorcas’. Her skin was warm and soft, and
when Dorcas looked back at her, Lily’s green eyes were shining with tears, which had fallen down
onto her cheeks, creating glistening tracks on her pale skin.

“I’m so sorry you were hiding and hurting for so long,” she said, her voice full of emotion. “You
deserve the world, Dorcas. You deserve to be loved.”

Dorcas gave her a nod and a small smile, swallowing down the tears, and allowed Lily to draw her
into a hug. She didn’t cry, though the emotions were welling up in her, fit to burst. She knew she
would later, alone at night, hugging her pillow to her like a lifeline. Maybe, Dorcas thought,
Marlene would come back later and crawl into bed with her, just as they’d done for many years,
and they could talk. If she did, Dorcas knew that she’d certainly cry then.
“I need to talk to Marlene,” Dorcas said as she drew back, taking a deep breath. “Once I talk to her,
we can make sense of it all, together.”

Lily nodded. “You’ll get to talk to her,” she said. “She’ll have to come back eventually.”

As it turned out, however, Marlene didn’t come back that night. Dorcas stayed up until the early
hours of the morning waiting for her, straining her ears for sounds of her arrival, but they never
came, and eventually, sleep overcame her. When she woke in the morning, she tore her curtains
open, only to see Marlene’s empty, unslept in bed staring back at her. Her shoulders sagged. What
had Marlene done, slept on the couch in the common room? On the floor in the boys’ dormitory?
Was she really that determined to avoid Dorcas?

Slowly, Dorcas rose and began to ready herself with the feeling of pulling herself forward into the
day. She was exhausted, and the shock of the previous day had given way to a slow sense of
anticipation, mixed with dread. The longer she had to wait to have the conversation, the more it
scared her.

Dorcas pulled herself through the following days in the same fashion. She got up, attended her
classes, ate at mealtimes, and went to bed. Marlene was there, in lessons, at mealtimes, and in the
dormitory at night, but always just out of Dorcas’ reach. The other girl seemed to have decided to
resolutely avoid Dorcas. Of course, outwardly everything appeared fine, but Marlene made sure to
always position herself at least one seat away from Dorcas and to always be in a group when they
were around one another. At night, she’d stay in the common room late, talking to every single
acquaintance she came across so that Dorcas was sure to have succumbed to her exhaustion by the
time Marlene came up to bed. During classes and mealtimes, Marlene pretended not to notice
Dorcas’ gaze upon her and never met her eyes.

After the first day of this behavior, Dorcas’ feeling of helpless longing had turned to irritation, and
then to anger. How could Marlene leave her hanging like this? She’d explained nothing, nothing.
She’d pulled the rug out from under Dorcas’ feet and left her on the ground, trying to get her
bearings. She’d told Lily, and Lily had had to fill in the blanks for her in her absence.

Perhaps part of the reason Dorcas was angry with Marlene was that she’d had the courage to tell
Dorcas that she was in love with her before Dorcas had worked up the courage to do the same.
Dorcas was fully aware that this was entirely irrational, but nevertheless, it bothered her. Dorcas
envied Marlene her ability to share what Dorcas had been keeping shamefully silent for the past
four years. Even so, she remembered the look of pure terror on Marlene’s face before she’d told
Dorcas that she was in love with her. In some ways, this gratified her: it told her that it wasn’t an
easy thing for Marlene to admit, either. Still, the fact that Marlene had significantly outstripped
Dorcas in terms of courage in this entire area of their lives was definitely part of Dorcas’ anger
against Marlene, as unreasonable as she knew that it was.

When Dorcas and Marlene had been children, before Hogwarts, their friendship had been a great
deal more competitive than it was now, each of them always trying to show the other up in the
process of learning magic. Later on, they discovered it was much more fun to work together to do
magic, and their competitiveness abated. But now, in her anger, Dorcas felt that old need to one-up
Marlene coursing through her veins, the desire to prove, not only to Marlene but to herself, that she
hadn’t been sorted into Gryffindor for nothing.

Of course, Dorcas’ biggest fear all these years had been telling Marlene the truth about how she
felt about her, but as Marlene had been as slippery as a snake over the last few days, Dorcas
couldn’t conquer that particular fear at the moment. Therefore, she reasoned that if she couldn’t tell
Marlene, who was the closest person to her, she would do the second-best thing, and tell the only
other person in the castle whom she’d known nearly as long as Marlene. This decision was the
reason that James found himself being dragged into an empty Transfiguration classroom on his
way back from dinner on Friday by a crazed-looking Dorcas.

“Dorcas, what the bloody hell?!” James exclaimed, rubbing his arm as she released it, slamming
the door shut behind them and silencing it. “You’re not dragging me in here to snog, are you?
Because I’d find that very strange on a number of levels.”

“Oh, shut up, James,” Dorcas snapped, rolling her eyes. “As if I would want to snog you.”

“Well, now I’m offended,” James said, but he was chuckling slightly at his own joke. “What’s
going on, then?”

Dorcas stared at him. Now faced with the real prospect of telling him the truth, she suddenly
realized that she hadn’t prepared what to say.

“James, I—” She broke off, feeling as if she was choking on the words. James noticed her
expression, and his smile faded to a concerned and slightly curious look.

“Is there something wrong, Dee?” he asked, stepping towards her.

Dorcas’ voice was still absent, so she only nodded, feeling quite terrified. James scanned her face,
looking more concerned than ever, and then pulled her into a hug, one arm around her waist, the
other hand holding the back of her head gently, her chin resting on his shoulder. It was much
gentler than his usual bear hugs, and Dorcas sighed into him, closing her eyes and letting his
warmth comfort her. This was James...just James. He wasn’t going anywhere. Still, she couldn’t
make her vocal cords move.

James pulled back and gave her a searching look. “Come on, let’s sit down.” He guided her over to
the teacher’s desk, and they both perched on top of it, facing each other. He took her hand in his
own, still gazing at her. “What is it, Dee? You know you can tell me anything.”

Dorcas cleared her throat nervously, trying to clear the tightness from it. “I...I…” she tried to begin,
faltering slightly. She looked up at him, letting out a nervous laugh. “Merlin, James, I’m not sure
how to say this.”

James didn’t say anything, he just nodded. His expression was puzzled, curious, and it beckoned
her to continue. She searched his eyes desperately, then closed hers tightly, thinking that maybe
she’d be braver if she didn’t have to face his reaction as she said what she had to say. As she
opened her mouth again, the words forming on her lips, she felt as if she was at the top of a
precipice, and once the words came out, she would’ve leapt off it and be heading towards the water
below, no longer able to control her fall. She reasoned that if it was like cliff diving, she should be
able to do it, as she’d gone cliff diving with James, Marlene, and Sirius before, and, while it’d been
scary, it’d also been wildly exhilarating and rewarding. She hoped this would be the same.

“I’m a lesbian,” she whispered, her eyes still tightly shut. She felt like the words echoed in her ears,
and it took her a moment to confirm that she’d actually said them out loud. Once she’d come to the
decision that she had, indeed, spoken them aloud, she dared to open her eyes and look at James.
She was surprised at how unruffled he looked at her revelation.

“So you...you fancy girls?” James confirmed, his gaze tentative. Dorcas nodded, her breath still
caught in her throat.

“I only fancy girls, and not blokes,” Dorcas confirmed. James nodded thoughtfully.
“That explains a lot,” he said after a moment, smiling at her. Dorcas let out a shocked laugh, never
in a million years expecting this reaction.

“What does that mean?”

“Just that you’ve never seemed at all interested in any blokes before,” James said, smiling. “It
makes sense. Also, you stared at Iris Liu a lot in third year, and I was a bit confused about that for
a while.” Dorcas smiled, too, despite herself.

“Well, if you caught me staring at Iris a couple of times in third year, you’ve still missed the way
I’ve been staring at Marlene ever since.” There. She’d said it. Now James really looked shocked.

“Marlene? You fancy Marley?!” he demanded, his eyes wide as he stared at her. Dorcas nodded,
blushing slightly, feeling incredibly vulnerable as she looked back at him.

“Since third year,” she said quietly. “I’m in love with her, Jamie.”

“Well, Merlin...I didn’t see that one coming,” James admitted, running a hand through his already
messy hair. “I can’t believe you’ve known you like girls since third year, too, and kept it quiet all
this time.”

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you,” Dorcas told him. “I just didn’t know how to tell anyone. I thought
it would be easier to keep quiet about it, you know? I didn’t know how people would take it.”

“You didn’t tell anyone because you thought we would treat you differently?” James asked,
looking a little hurt now. “Dee, I would never do that. I mean, you should never apologize to me
for not coming out to me sooner because that’s your own business and I respect your privacy, but I
wish you hadn’t been thinking all these years that I would’ve treated you differently just because
you fancy girls. I mean, I fancy girls, too, after all! I know it’s different, and lots of people are
strange about the whole thing, but you’re the same Dorcas you’ve always been to me, I hope you
know that.”

Dorcas let out a breath of relief she hadn’t known she’d been holding and smiled at him. “Thank
you, James, I appreciate it. I don’t think I thought you’d mind, really. It still felt really hard,
though, you know? I guess I just wasn’t brave enough at the time.”

James laughed, shaking his head in amazement. “Dorcas, you’re one of the bravest people I know.
You judging yourself for not coming out sooner and thinking that says anything about your bravery
in general...well, that’s just ridiculous.”

Dorcas smiled gratefully. She’d known that James would make her feel better about the situation.
“Out of curiosity, though, what made you decide to come out to me now?” James asked, raising his
eyebrows at her and narrowing his eyes slightly.

“Well, two days ago,” Dorcas said, letting out a sigh of frustration. “Marlene told me that she’s in
love with me.”

“What?!” James exclaimed. He leapt to his feet, clearly no longer able to contain his shock, and
stared at her.

“The girls walked in right after, and she ran. She’s been avoiding me ever since,” Dorcas finished,
barely reacting to James’ display.

James stared, dumbfounded, at Dorcas for a few seconds longer, then began to pace. “Damn, Dee,
way to bury the lead…” he said, burying his hand in his hair again, a put-upon expression on his
face. Then he stopped and let out a short laugh, glancing back at Dorcas. “Classic Marley, though.
That’s what she’d always do when telling her parents that we did something to the house. Confess,
then run for cover.”

Dorcas rolled her eyes. “Yeah, truly. So, for the past 48 hours, I’ve been alternating between being
ecstatic that she feels the same way about me and furious that she won’t let me be alone with her
long enough to talk about it.”

“Wow, that’s a lot,” James said, running his hand through his hair again. “So, Marlene likes girls,
too. That’s a piece of luck, honestly, for the both of you. It’s kind of perfect.”

“Perfect?” Dorcas echoed, confused on many different levels about his use of the word, and raising
her eyebrows at him. James rolled his eyes, still pacing.

“You know what I mean,” he said. “It’ll be perfect once she gets her head out of her arse and
actually lets you talk to her.”

“So, you’re alright with it?” Dorcas asked, looking at him nervously. “Me and Marley, getting
together? If it happens, I mean.”

James stopped his pacing, turning to face her, a smile on his face. “Dorcas, you and Marlene have
been in your own little world together for as long as I’ve known you. I’ve never been jealous. I
always knew that I couldn’t be for either of you what you were for each other. Now, you have the
chance to be really happy with each other, and I want that more than anything for you both.”

Dorcas didn’t have the words to tell James how much what he said meant to her, so she didn’t
speak. She stood and reached up to wrap her arms around him in another hug. His arms came
around her back and engulfed her, as his hugs always did, overwhelming in the care and warmth
contained in them. They stood there for a long moment.

“I knew I could tell you,” Dorcas said finally, her voice muffled slightly in his shoulder. “As soon
as I realized that I could tell people about it, I knew that I wanted to tell you.”

James pulled back from her and smiled. “You can tell me anything, Dee,” he said. “Does anyone
else know?”

“Lily knows,” Dorcas said. “I never told her, but last year, she figured it out. When Marlene and
Sirius were...well, it was difficult.”

“I can’t even imagine,” James said, giving her a sympathetic look.

“Lily and I didn’t talk about it, not until Wednesday,” Dorcas continued. “Marlene came out to her
before she told me, too, so when she saw the look on my face on Wednesday, she knew what
must’ve happened. Marlene didn’t tell Lily that she was in love with me, though.”

“Merlin,” James said, looking impressed. “Lily really sees right through everyone, doesn’t she?”
Dorcas fought the urge to roll her eyes. Of course, she couldn’t blame James for his feelings for
Lily, and she thought it was only a matter of time before Lily fell for him right back, but was this
really the moment? James noticed Dorcas’ raised eyebrows and seemed to shake himself out of his
reverie.

“So, what are we going to do?” He had a glint in his eye that Dorcas knew well: it was the look he
always got when he was planning mischief.

“I’m sorry, we?” Dorcas asked, giving him a suspicious look and crossing her arms. “Your
scheming will only make this worse, James.”

James pouted at her. “Come on, I could help,” he said. “I can use my talents for good. You just
need to think of a strategy to get her alone.”

“I’ve tried everything,” Dorcas said, sighing in exasperation. “She evaporates into thin air when I
get too close.”

“Well,” James began excitedly, “I could tell Marlene that I needed to talk to her about Quidditch
tactics, then, when I get her alone in a room, you come in, and I lock you in together. Then, she’s
forced to talk to you!”

“She’d probably just climb out of a window or something,” Dorcas said, gesturing hopelessly with
her hands. James sighed, giving Dorcas an admonitory look that made him look exceptionally like
his mother.

“What about a simpler plan, then? You can corner her after the victory party tomorrow. She’ll be
in a good mood, and the dormitory will be empty, with any luck, so you can drag her up there when
everyone else is busy and make her listen to you.”

“And what if you lose?” Dorcas asked, quirking an eyebrow mockingly at his arrogance. James
rolled his eyes at her.

“Don’t be an arse,” he said, grinning at her. She laughed.

“And how will you be helping with this plan?”

“I’ll make sure all your dormmates are downstairs, and that Marley has a drink. You know she
won’t be able to keep her guard up around you if she’s had firewhiskey.”

“James Potter, are you suggesting I take advantage of our drunk friend?” Dorcas asked, raising her
eyebrows at him.

“I’m definitely not suggesting that, and if you do I’ll personally come after you,” James said, half-
laughing, half-serious. “But you know it will help you talk to her.”

“Fine,” Dorcas said, relenting. “This better work, Potter. I can’t believe I’m taking the advice of a
man who’s been unsuccessfully trying to get a date with Lily Evans for years.”

“Cold, Meadowes, very cold,” James said, smiling and walking over to the door and opening it for
her. “We’d best get back to the dormitory.”

....

The next morning, Dorcas woke up feeling remarkably better than she had the last few days. It was
Saturday, so she slept in a bit more than usual, but still rose earlier than Lily, Hestia, Emmeline,
and Mary. As she opened her curtains, she saw Marlene’s already empty, made bed beside her
own. This time, she knew that Marlene wasn’t trying to avoid her; she always got up early in the
mornings before Quidditch games. It was partially the nerves and partially the excitement that
made it hard for her to sleep long. Dorcas guessed that Marlene was probably working off her
energy by taking an early morning walk around the lake, and pushed away a pang of sadness.
Marlene usually invited Dorcas to join her for these pre-game walks.

Dorcas climbed out of bed and stepped into the bathroom, starting the shower and peering at
herself blearily in the mirror. Fifteen minutes later, she emerged feeling much more awake. She
dried her hair magically with a swish of her wand, applied light make-up, and changed into jeans, a
turtleneck, and on top of it, the leather jacket that she’d bought in London the summer before last.
She also put on a pair of Gryffindor lion earrings she always wore to Quidditch games, for luck.
She threw on her Gryffindor scarf over it, slipped on her boots, and smiled, satisfied, at her
reflection in the mirror before heading down to the common room. Surprisingly, it was not empty,
as she bumped into Sirius coming down from the boys’ dorm.

“Morning,” he said, smiling as he met her at the bottom of the stairs.

“You’re up earlier than expected,” Dorcas said, smiling at him. Sirius was rarely to be seen before
ten on most weekend mornings.

“Well, it’s the first game of the season. Wouldn’t want to be late,” Sirius said as Dorcas held the
portrait hole open for him, and fell into step with her once they’d exited the common room. Dorcas
smiled, as she could vividly imagine Sirius turning up late to a Quidditch match.

“I’m surprised you’ve never done that before. You’ve been late to enough early morning lessons.”

“Well, I have my priorities sorted out. I would never miss a Quidditch match.” Dorcas rolled her
eyes. They fell into silence for a while until Sirius broke it, a mischievous note in his voice. “So,
how’s the week been for you? Anything of note?” Dorcas nearly got whiplash as she turned to gape
at him. Sirius was wearing a slight smirk on his face, but still looking straight ahead instead of at
her.

“She told you?” Dorcas demanded, frustration sparking in her again. “She’s been dodging out of
sight every time she sees me coming for the last three days, but she made time to talk to you about
it?”

Sirius merely smiled. “You know Marley, not too good at confrontation and all that.”

“Oh, she’s great at the her talking part of the confrontation, just piss-poor at the listening part, or
the after,” Dorcas muttered mutinously. Sirius laughed.

“Well, she’ll have to talk to you at some point. You are her best friend, after all,” Sirius said, the
amusement evident in his voice.

“I’m glad you’re getting a real kick out of this situation,” Dorcas growled, annoyed at him now,
too.

“Better you than me,” Sirius replied brightly.

Dorcas glanced at him sideways, unsure of how to respond to that statement. She’d spent many
months miserable due to Sirius and Marlene’s casual relationship and then puzzled for a long time
after it’d ended about what’d caused Marlene to change her mind. They’d all known, the previous
year, that Marlene had been the one to pull the plug on their arrangement, as the two had joked
about it enough with each other. Now, not for the first time, she wondered when Marlene had
started to develop feelings for her. Was she the reason that Marlene had ended it with Sirius? Did
he know that?

Before she could ask him, however, they’d entered the Great Hall and were walking over to the
Gryffindor table. Dorcas followed Sirius down the table, where he sat down across from James,
leaving the seat across from Marlene open to her. Dorcas sat down, meeting Marlene’s blue eyes
across the table for the first time in days. She smiled at the other girl, who smiled back slightly
nervously. Dorcas couldn’t tell if Marlene’s nerves came from seeing Dorcas or from the upcoming
match, but tried not to think about it as she dug into her breakfast.

James made casual conversation with all of them but kept grinning annoyingly, his gaze flicking
between Dorcas and Marlene. Dorcas gave him a pointed glare when Marlene wasn’t looking,
trying to tell him with her eyes to stop being obvious. By the time they were done eating, most of
the rest of Gryffindor house had come to breakfast, and the other seventh years joined them.
Emmeline, like James, Sirius, and Marlene, was already dressed in her Quidditch uniform.

“Thought you might sleep through the match, Em,” James joked to Emmeline, who rolled her eyes
but didn’t dignify his comment with a response, focusing on stirring cinnamon into her porridge
instead. Dorcas could feel the anticipation building at the Gryffindor table as the match
approached, and at nine-thirty, James stood and gestured for his team to follow him. Emmeline,
Marlene, and Sirius all stood, as well as Georgie Huxley, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Liam
Sampson, further down the table.

As they began to walk towards the doors, Dorcas called after Marlene: “Good luck!”

Marley turned her head at her words, looking back to meet Dorcas’ eyes for a split second, then
turned back to head out of the hall. Dorcas slumped a little in her seat, disappointed, and began to
tap her foot.

“What’s up with you?” Mary asked, looking at Dorcas in confusion. “You know we’re going to
win. There’s no way that Slytherin can beat us when James has been getting them up at the crack
of dawn for months to train.”

“I’m not worried,” Dorcas said quickly. “I’m fine.” She met Lily’s eyes from across the table, and
let out a small sigh.

Twenty minutes later, Dorcas walked out onto the Quidditch pitch with Lily, Mary, Hestia, Remus,
and Peter to get seats in the Gryffindor stands. It was a beautiful, sunny day, even if Dorcas was a
bit chilly in the early November air. As the two teams marched out onto the field, everyone in the
stands stood to cheer. Dorcas looked down at the pitch, her eyes on Marlene’s figure, dressed in
her red Quidditch robes. Next to her, she saw that Sirius was staring across at the Slytherins, an
odd look on his face.

“I’d forgotten that Sirius’ brother is on the Slytherin team now,” Lily said, from beside her. Of
course, Dorcas realized, Sirius must be looking over at his brother, the smallest member of the
Slytherin team, who would be playing Seeker against Marlene. “Does Sirius mind playing against
him?”

Dorcas shrugged. “I’m not sure. I don’t know much about their relationship,” she replied honestly.

Lily made a small, thoughtful sound in her throat. Hestia leaned across Mary to join the
conversation. “Have you ever seen the two of them interact at all? I’ve only ever seen them pass
each other a couple of times in the corridors, but they seem to just ignore one another.”

“I think they interacted a bit more at school during Regulus’ first three years, you know, before
Sirius ran away from home,” Dorcas said. “I don’t think Regulus has spoken to Sirius since he
left.”

“Poor Sirius,” Mary said, her tone sympathetic.

“How do you know that Regulus isn’t just like the rest of Sirius’ family, though? Sirius could be
glad to be rid of him,” Hestia pointed out.
“I don’t think he is,” Dorcas said quietly. “I’ve heard Sirius talking about his cousins, Narcissa and
Bellatrix. He really hates them. I’ve never heard him talk about Regulus that way.”

The conversation was put out of all of their minds as the whistle blew from the center of the field,
and they all looked to see all the players mount their brooms and kick off into the sky. Dorcas
watched the fast-moving action of the game gleefully, cheering every time Gryffindor scored,
Emmeline saved a would-be Slytherin goal, or Sirius or Kingsley hit a Bludger at one of the
Slytherins. Thirty minutes in, Gryffindor was 70 points up, the Gryffindor Chasers working as an
unstoppable team. Marlene was soaring above all the action, looking around for the Snitch as
Regulus Black marked her at a distance.

Dorcas’ eyes followed Marlene’s movements as she scanned the sky for a moment while the
Slytherin Chaser, Macnair, dropped the Quaffle after being knocked off course by a well-placed
Bludger, aimed at him by Sirius. Suddenly, under Dorcas’ gaze, Marlene turned sharply and went
into a dive, plummeting towards the ground, flat to her broom. Regulus sped after her, his urgency
slowly closing the gap between them. Kingsley hit a Bludger at him, and he swerved to avoid it.
Dorcas leapt to her feet along with the rest of the Gryffindors, cheering Marlene on.

“Come on, Marley!” Dorcas screamed, excitement coursing through her as she watched Marlene’s
hand stretch out in front of her, advancing on the small, glittering golden ball. She was inches from
it, and Regulus was still several feet behind her, desperation on his face as he tried to reach her.
She had to get it, she had to...

The crowd erupted into cheers as Marlene’s hand closed around the small, golden ball. Dorcas
cheered along with the rest, hugging Lily and Mary next to her and jumping up and down in
excitement. Marlene pulled out of her dive lazily, already feet from the ground, and jumped off her
broom to land on the grass. As she brandished her hand in the air, the Snitch’s wings flapping
feebly, Dorcas knew she couldn’t be angry at Marlene anymore, no matter how idiotic she’d been.
It wasn’t as if Dorcas would’ve handled herself much better.

Suddenly, an idea appeared in Dorcas’ head, an idea that might be stupid and might be brilliant.
Fuck James’ plan, this’ll do, she thought to herself. She broke away from Mary, Lily, and Hestia,
ignoring their confused looks and inquiries, squeezing herself past the people in her row, and
racing down the stairs in the stands, trying desperately to get to the ground before she was
overwhelmed by the crowd that would soon be pouring out onto the field.

As she ran, she saw the rest of the Gryffindor team land beside Marlene, and James and Sirius pull
Marlene into tight hugs, one after the other. The Slytherin team landed across the field, gathering in
a group and shooting sulky looks at the celebrating Gryffindors. Dorcas reached the ground finally
and began to race towards the field. Marlene’s back was turned to her, but she turned to face
Dorcas as the other members of the Gryffindor team saw her. James stared at her, an anticipatory
grin breaking across his face as she ran towards them. The moments as Dorcas raced up to Marlene
seemed to play in slow motion, as Dorcas was able to register clearly the look of mixed excitement
from winning the match and apprehension on Marlene’s face as she watched Dorcas’ shape grow
bigger as she approached.

Dorcas shot straight into Marlene like a cannonball without breaking speed. The force of Dorcas’
hug could’ve sent Marlene stumbling to the ground, but she didn’t fall, only took one step back as
Dorcas flew into her, clutching her tightly in a hug. The days of waiting, of frustrated anticipation
seemed to melt away as Dorcas clutched Marlene to her, trying to catch her breath so that she could
say what she’d come to say. Behind her, she could hear the Gryffindor crowd beginning to pour
onto the pitch, and knew they’d soon be surrounded, and that she had to say it now or Marlene
wouldn’t be able to hear her over the cacophony.
 So Dorcas drew back slightly, only enough so that her lips brushed against Marlene’s ear, and she
said, very quietly so that only she could hear: “I’m in love with you, too.”

Marlene jerked back, and Dorcas stepped away from her, but reached out and took Marlene’s hands
in hers so that she couldn’t run away again. To an outsider, Dorcas hoped, this gesture would look
innocuous. Everyone in Hogwarts knew that the girls were close. The Gryffindor crowd, finally
having reached the players on the field, surrounded them, leaving only a small bubble around
where the two girls stood staring at one another.

Marlene’s startled blue eyes found Dorcas’ brown ones, searching, not believing. Finally, Marlene
managed to speak. “You are?” she choked out, her voice sounding hoarse.

Dorcas smiled and nodded. “Have been since third year,” she admitted. She barely registered her
heart pounding rapidly in her chest or the warmth in her face as she looked at Marlene. Marlene,
her best friend. Marlene, her...something more than that, now, which they would figure out later.
Marlene stared at her, awe and disbelief on her face, which was still a little sweaty from the game.

Marlene stepped forward again more cautiously and wrapped her arms around Dorcas, pulling their
bodies flush in another hug, which was almost painfully tight.

“Come with me,” Marlene whispered into her ear, quickly disengaging from her and giving Dorcas
a reassuring smile. She tugged Dorcas by the hand, both girls extricating themselves from the
crowd, which filled in the spot where they’d been standing in seconds.

Dorcas followed Marlene, not looking behind her to see if anyone had watched them leave. At that
moment, Dorcas really didn’t care. Marlene led Dorcas toward the Gryffindor locker rooms, pulled
her inside, and closed the door behind them. When Marlene finally kissed her, it felt like coming
home.

Chapter End Notes

Finally!!! Ahh!!! You cannot imagine how much I’m vicariously living through
Marlene and Dorcas’ romance. It just makes my little sapphic heart so happy :)

Also, guess what? It’s been exactly 1 year since I began posting this fic! This feels like
an appropriate chapter to be my one-year anniversary. The slow burn is coming to an
end! I guess that means I only posted a chapter 44 weeks out of 52, but that’s not too
bad. That means that each week I have an 85% chance of posting a chapter, so I’d say
I’m a rather reliable author! I promise I won’t leave you hanging. Anyway, I’ve gotten
back on the writing grind since graduating. It may be hard to believe, but 40 hours a
week working is actually a relief after my senior year of college, and I have more time
for writing! Anyway, I’m so proud of the story so far, and of course, I already have
most of what will happen mapped out in my head, even if it isn’t completely on the
page yet. I can’t wait for you to see what happens next!
 1977: Under the Influence
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

The first Quidditch match of the season had been an incomparable success in Sirius’ opinion. Not
only had they beaten Slytherin in only about half an hour, but Marlene and Dorcas had also
disappeared soon after Dorcas had nearly flattened Marlene on the field with the force of her hug.
Sirius hoped against hope that this meant that there’d be a happy ending to the past few days of
turmoil for the two girls.

The Gryffindor team was soon surrounded by other students, congratulating them on their win.
Sirius didn’t miss the moment when Lily almost tackled James in a hug or the goofy smile on
James’ face as he hugged her back. Behind them, Emmeline appeared to be doing a very accurate
impression of Macnair’s ridiculous look of concentration as he approached the goalposts—which
included teeth grinding, scowling, and squinting his eyes—which had Georgie and Kingsley in
hysterics. Sirius laughed and shook his head, turning away. His eyes lighted on a slight figure in
the background, dressed in green.

Though the rest of the Slytherin team was already walking back to the changing rooms, their
shoulders hunched in defeat, Regulus had remained and was staring over at Sirius. Sirius blinked.
Regulus hadn’t glanced his way in over a year, but apparently the stars had aligned that day
because he was clearly looking at him now. Sirius was too far away from his brother to make out
the look on Regulus’ face, however, and after standing still for a moment, he began to push his way
through the crowd, hoping to get closer. Perhaps Regulus wanted to talk.

By the time Sirius had reached the edge of the gathered crowd of Gryffindors, though, Regulus had
turned and was walking away. He reached the door of the Slytherin locker rooms and pushed it
open, not looking back. Sirius felt a wave of disappointment wash through him, obliterating the
hope he’d felt moments earlier. He started when he felt a hand on his back, and turned to see Lily.

“Hey,” she said, giving him a small smile that told him that she’d seen the wordless exchange
between him and his brother. “Are you alright? James is looking for you.”

“Fine,” Sirius said, quickly hitching a grin back on his face. “Where’s James?”

Just then, James pushed through the crowd toward them. “There you are!” he exclaimed. “I was
beginning to think all of my friends had disappeared on me.”

“You mean Marley and Dee?” Sirius asked. “They’re still nowhere to be found?”

“Yeah, well, I saw them disappear off to the locker rooms,” James said, smirking. “They better not
be—” Then he broke off, straightening slightly and clearing his throat as if he’d just remembered
himself. Sirius narrowed his eyes at James suspiciously as he rumpled his hair nervously and
avoided Sirius’ gaze. Lily looked between the two, then rolled her eyes.

“James, he knows,” she said. James gave her a confused look, then turned to Sirius, realization
dawning in his eyes.

“You knew?!” James demanded in a stage whisper, an accusatory note in his voice, staring at
Sirius in shock. Sirius suppressed his own shock and apprehension and shrugged casually.

“Marlene told me,” he said. “I didn’t know you knew.”

“Dee told me,” James said, pouting slightly. “I can’t believe Marley told you and not me.”

Lily clucked her tongue impatiently, rolling her eyes again at James’ immaturity. “Well, I heard it
from both of them,” she said. “So if it’s a competition, I win.”

“What exactly did Dorcas tell you?” Sirius asked, looking between the pair of them. Lily smiled,
glancing at James.

“Let’s just say—” she began, looking all around them carefully to make sure no one was
eavesdropping. “—that what Marlene told Dorcas was a long time coming, for Dorcas, at least.”

Sirius didn’t try and prevent the wide grin that broke across his face. “I knew it,” he said, punching
the air in triumph. “I mean, not in the sense of having any idea, but when I talked to her this
morning, I just...had a feeling.”

“How long have you known about Marlene?” James asked, frowning in a slightly sulky way.

“Since the summer,” Sirius said, looking at James carefully for his reaction. This was the preview
of what he could expect if he told James about his sexuality...or his feelings for Remus, for that
matter.

“Why did she tell you two and not me?” James asked, looking hurt. Sirius’ face broke into a smile,
relief flooding through him. James was still frowning, though, and turned to Lily. “Dorcas told you
first, too. Is it me?” He lowered his voice, looking horrified. “Did they think that I’d be
homophobic to them?”

Lily began to laugh, and Sirius couldn’t help but join her. Through her giggles, Lily put a
comforting hand on James’ arm. “Don’t worry, James,” she said reassuringly. “I don’t think it was
about you at all. Dorcas didn’t really tell me, I just figured it out. And Marlene told me because we
aren’t close.”

“That was my idea,” Sirius broke in. “And as for Marlene telling me first, I’d say it was just habit.
She and I’d been talking a lot during sixth year about all kinds of stuff. We get each other.” Out of
the corner of his eye, Sirius thought he saw Lily looking at him rather strangely, but when he
looked her way, her eyes were back on James.

“Fine,” James said, still sounding slightly hurt. “Well, how long do I give them before we storm
the locker rooms? It’s only a matter of time until the rest of the team wants to shower.”

“They’ve had fifteen minutes,” Sirius said, smirking. “I think it would be fair to go and disrupt
now. It’d be better than one of our other teammates just walking in, anyway.”

“They could just be talking,” James said fairly, but sighed when he saw the identical disbelieving
looks that Lily and Sirius were sending his way. “Okay, I’ll go knock on the door.”

....

Once the Gryffindor Quidditch team was all showered and freshly dressed, they headed back to the
common room for what Remus and Peter had promised would be a legendary party. When Sirius
arrived, the party was already in full swing. The normal furniture had been pushed slightly to the
sides to allow space for two large tables filled with food from the kitchens, sweets from
Honeydukes, and drinks ranging from Butterbeer to firewhiskey. He and James made their way
over to Remus and Peter, who were standing by the fire, a drink in each of their hands.

“How long did it take for you two to do all this?” Sirius asked incredulously, looking around.
Remus shrugged, smiling, his eyes already having taken on a slight sheen that told Sirius that his
cup didn’t have Butterbeer in it.

“We did a Hogsmeade run last night, while you were asleep,” Remus explained. “And we went to
the kitchens just after the match.”

“It wasn’t too difficult, really,” Peter said modestly. “Anyway, lots to celebrate, since we never did
anything for your eighteenth on Wednesday, Padfoot.”

Sirius grinned. “I’d better get a drink, then,” he said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
“Since I have to catch up to you two, as well.”

“I’m barely buzzed,” Remus said, grinning. “But I’ll get you a drink. Prongs?”

James shook his head. “Nah, can’t,” he said. “I’m Captain. I have to make sure everyone stays
safe. Anyway, knowing you lot, someone would choke on their own vomit if I wasn’t there to stop
them.”

“Wow, what a square,” Sirius remarked, rolling his eyes. “Florey never stayed sober at parties to
look after you lot.”

“Yeah, well, Sam did,” James said. “Also, I’m Head Boy, and I’d rather not have to explain the
common room being set on fire to McGonagall in the morning, especially after she said that she
thought I was the best person for the job.” Remus merely smiled, amused, and departed to get
Sirius a drink, while Sirius and Peter continued to make fun of James for his determined sobriety.

An hour later, Sirius was well on his way to getting completely sloshed, as were most of the rest of
the older students. He was quite enjoying the company of everyone in the room and was now
sitting in an armchair by the fire, having a lively discussion with Mary about forms of Muggle
transportation.

“So, you know how to drive a car?” Sirius asked, greatly impressed.

“I got my license last year, yeah,” Mary said, grinning at his enthusiasm. “It’s a great way to get
around during the holidays. I mean, apparating is all well and good, but driving is fun, and you get
to see the scenery around you as you go places.”

“It sounds amazing! I want to go driving some time,” Sirius said. “Have you ever driven a
motorcycle? I’ve wanted one of those for years.”

“I’ve never been on one, but my friend’s boyfriend back home has one, and she says riding on it is
quite the adrenaline rush, which I’m sure you’d love.”

“Wicked,” Sirius said, a dreamy expression coming over his face. Just then, Lily came over and
perched on the arm of his chair.

“What are we talking about?” she asked, looking from Mary to Sirius, smiling, her face slightly
flushed from whatever was in the cup clasped in her hand. Mary smiled back at her.

“Sirius was just asking about Muggle cars and motorcycles. He was very impressed to find out I
know how to drive a car,” she said, sounding amused. Lily laughed.

“Where did you learn so much about Muggles, Sirius?” Lily asked curiously. “I can’t imagine
there were any informative books on Muggles in your home growing up, and half of the students
that take Muggle Studies still wouldn’t know the difference between a motorcycle and a shopping
trolley.”

“I definitely didn’t learn it from home,” he said, laughing and taking another gulp from the drink in
his hand. “I snuck out of my house a lot when I was a kid to explore Muggle London on my own. I
spent quite a lot of time reading Muggle books I borrowed from the local library and smuggled into
my room.” Lily and Mary glanced at each other, looking surprised but impressed.

“That’s pretty punk rock, Black,” Mary commented, laughing as she sipped from her drink more,
too. “I’m surprised you’re not in Ravenclaw, though, risking so much for books.”

“Hey, you take that back! The Ravenclaws would never take me!” Sirius exclaimed, wounded.
Lily and Mary fell over each other, laughing at his reaction. Sirius turned and called across the
room to Remus, “Moony, save me, Mary just told me I should’ve been a Ravenclaw!”

Remus laughed, walking over to them and stopping behind Sirius’ chair. “Did I just have a stroke?
Someone suggested that Sirius Black should be in Ravenclaw? How much have you had to drink,
Mary?”

Mary continued to giggle, her face turning red. “I think I’m starting to feel the firewhiskey now,”
she admitted. They all laughed, and Sirius took another long swig from his cup, then bent his neck
backward to look up at Remus, upside down.

“Can you drive, Moony?” he asked, his brain feeling a little fuzzy now. Remus raised his eyebrows
at Lily and Mary questioningly, but neither seemed to be in any state to explain, so he turned back
to Sirius, smiling.

“Yes, I can drive, Padfoot. My mum taught me over the summer.”

“Can you teach me?” Sirius asked, fixing Remus with what he hoped was a persuasive look. Remus
laughed.

“Well, not now! How much have you had to drink, Padfoot?”

“Eh, two drinks, not even. You?”

“Three,” Remus said, shrugging modestly. “I forgot about your piss poor tolerance.”

“Urgh, I forgot about your superhuman ability to hold your drink,” Sirius slurred slightly, lifting his
head again, as it felt strange to look at Remus upside down, no matter how much he wanted to be
looking at Remus at the moment. Merlin, he thought. The firewhiskey is making me fancy him even
more. I didn’t think that was possible. As if Remus knew what Sirius was thinking, he rounded his
chair to stand in front of him instead.

“Well, fuck,” Sirius said under his breath, as he stared at Remus in the firelight, which make his
blue eyes look darker, and somehow even more beautiful than usual. Even in Sirius’ drunken state,
he could still make out the pure affection in Remus’ gaze as he looked down at him. The look
made Sirius feel quite dizzy with emotion, or perhaps that was just the alcohol.

“Just how sloshed are you planning on getting today, Sirius?” Remus asked conversationally, a
smile playing across his lips. Sirius smirked.

“That depends on many things, Moony, but I think it’d be reasonable to assume that I’ll be having
quite a lot of fun by the end of the night.”

“Well, I guess I’ll plan to carry you up to the dorm tonight,” Remus said, grinning despite himself
at his friend’s antics.

“I look forward to it,” Sirius said, winking at Remus before draining the rest of his drink. Remus
continued to chat with Lily and Mary as Sirius pushed himself up from his chair and went back to
the drinks table to pour himself another, thinking that it might be unwise to be too close to the other
boy when he was drunk.

As he turned away from the drinks table, Sirius’ eyes fell on Marlene and Dorcas, who were sitting
on a loveseat in the corner of the room, slightly apart from the rest of the celebrating Gryffindors.
They were sitting closer than usual, but given the revelry, Sirius doubted that anyone would notice.
No doubt they were taking advantage of the noise to shield their conversation from the rest of the
students. He grinned and made a beeline over to them, plopping down on the couch across from
them.

“Hey, Sirius,” Dorcas said, smiling at him.

“Am I interrupting?” Sirius asked mischievously, grinning at the pair of them. Marlene rolled her
eyes but smiled.

“Unfortunately, no,” she said. “Dorcas wants to stay and celebrate here. I suggested we take
advantage of James’ offer to keep our dormmates downstairs.”

“And I reminded her that the party was for her,” Dorcas said, blushing and elbowing Marlene.
“Besides, James is a bit distracted,” she continued, nodding over to James, who was now standing
next to Lily, a besotted look on his face. “And I’d rather not have our dormmates find out about us
by walking in on us snogging.”

“They’ll have to find out sometime,” Marlene said, shrugging and grinning. Dorcas hesitated
slightly, then nodded.

“I know,” she replied softly.

“Well, if you’re going to be at the party, you might want to actually participate in the party,” Sirius
said, smiling teasingly at them and nodding back towards the center of the room.

Marlene aimed a kick at him. “Cop on,” she said. “I’ve got a girlfriend now. Let me enjoy the
moment.”

“Oh, but it’s been nothing but Dorcas this, Dorcas that for months! I’m bored,” Sirius said
dramatically, shooting Dorcas a conspiratorial grin. Making sure to keep his voice quiet enough so
that it wouldn’t carry, he put on a high voice, trying for Marlene’s accent: “Dorcas is so beautiful,
Sirius, how is that allowed? She’s so brilliant, how can she manage to be so good at everything all
the time? Merlin, Dorcas’ laugh is so amazing, I could listen to it all day long, Sirius—” Sirius
broke off as he dodged Marlene as she attempted to kick him in the shins, both him and Dorcas
laughing.

“I don’t sound like that!” Marlene exclaimed, though she was grinning, too. “And how do you still
manage to sound posh, even when you’re trying to imitate me?”

“It’s all those elocution lessons,” James said, coming up from behind them and plopping down
next to Sirius, grinning. “Now he’s irrevocably posh, no matter how hard he fights it.”

“Sod off,” Sirius retorted, slurring slightly. “My elocution tutor would be horrified to hear how I
talk now.”
Undeterred, James began to imitate Sirius’ accent, which put Marlene and Dorcas in stitches and
even had Sirius laughing, too. When they’d gotten all the laughs they could out of it, James ceased,
and they turned back to talking about Dorcas and Marlene.

“I can’t believe you went to James for advice,” Marlene said, laughing and looking at Dorcas.
“He’s not exactly the poster child for wooing women, after all.” Sirius began to laugh, too, at the
offended expression on James’ face at her statement.

“You’re one to talk, you went to Sirius,” Dorcas countered, raising her eyebrows challengingly at
Marlene. “The closest thing he’s had to a relationship was hooking up with you for the whole of
last year!” Now it was Sirius’ turn to be offended.

“I’m sitting right here!” he exclaimed, pouting. Dorcas and Marlene both laughed at him, and
Marlene sent him a covert wink.

“It’s okay, I know you’re working on it, Sirius,” she said mischievously. Sirius narrowed his eyes
at her suspiciously.

“Have you been drinking, Marley?”

“I’ve only had one drink!” she said, holding her hands up defensively as she smiled at him.

“And what was that supposed to mean?” Dorcas asked curiously, looking from Marlene to Sirius.
Marlene waved her question away, still grinning at Sirius.

“He knew what I meant, didn’t you, Sirius?” she asked. James and Dorcas both looked at Sirius
with intrigued eyes, but he didn’t respond, and instead took another swig of his drink to cover, his
cheeks red.

Seeing that Sirius wasn’t about to comment, James laughed and changed the subject. “I can’t
believe you’ve known about this for months and you didn’t tell me!” he exclaimed, directing his
words to Sirius as he nodded to Marlene and Dorcas. Sirius rolled his eyes.

“You didn’t tell me about Dee’s feelings for Marley, either,” he pointed out. James waved away
this logic.

“I only knew for about a day. You knew for months!”

“Like you’d ever have me betray a friend’s confidence like that,” Sirius scoffed.

“When did you tell him that you had feelings for me?” Dorcas asked Marlene curiously.

“It was the day I came back from Ireland, after you two had left the pond to go back to the house
and we stayed behind,” Marlene told her. “I came out to him and told him that I fancied you, all in
one.”

“Actually, I guessed that you had feelings for Dee,” Sirius corrected her, grinning proudly. Marlene
rolled her eyes at him.

“I’d already practically told you before you guessed,” she said.

“I can’t believe you told this stinking mutt before you told me,” James said, pouting at Marlene.
“You’ve known me four years longer than him. If you two had both told me, I would’ve gotten
you together sooner.”
“Oh yes, James Potter the matchmaker,” Marlene mocked him, laughing with Dorcas.

“Why’d you tell him first instead of me?” James demanded, not letting go of the topic, which was
clearly still bothering him. Marlene rolled her eyes.

“I dunno, James, Sirius and I just talk about things like that more than you and I. We’re more
similar,” Marlene said, obviously trying to put it in a way that wouldn’t hurt James’ feelings. James
snorted out a laugh.

“Wait,” he said, grinning, looking from Sirius to Marlene, and Sirius tensed slightly, wondering if
James had connected the dots and was about to ask if Sirius, too, wasn’t quite straight. “Did you
already have feelings for Dee back when you and Sirius were shagging last year?”

Sirius let out a slight exhale of breath he’d been holding and grinned as he looked over at Marlene.
“She did,” he confirmed. “She didn’t tell me about that little reason for ending it until the summer,
though.”

“Was that the reason you ended it with Sirius?” Dorcas asked her girlfriend now, her eyes wide as
she smiled, looking pleased. Marlene blushed, looking down at her cup.

“It just felt strange to be with him when all I could think about was you,” she admitted, her cheeks
rather flushed as she looked up into Dorcas’ dark eyes, her gaze vulnerable and sweet. Dorcas
smiled wider and took Marlene’s hand, running her thumb over the back of it, but their tender
moment was broken by James.

“Do you mean you were thinking about Dee while you and Sirius were—” He started, a disgusted
note in his voice, but broke off as Marlene pulled away from Dorcas to punch him on the arm,
causing him to rub the offended limb and curse under his breath.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, James Potter,” she said, a note of warning in her voice. “I’ll thank
you to never think about me in a compromising position again.”

“Sorry,” James muttered, looking embarrassed. Dorcas was blushing, too, and avoided all of their
eyes. Sirius met Marlene’s steely blue gaze, which was lighter than Remus’, and gave her a
conciliatory shrug. Marlene’s expression softened and she breathed out slowly.

“That’s alright,” she said more calmly. Sirius knew that Marlene was just trying to protect Dorcas’
feelings. Now that Sirius understood how long Dorcas had fancied Marlene, he, too, could imagine
that his and Marlene’s arrangement during their sixth year must be a touchy subject with her.
Perhaps her distance from Marlene during the previous year had been out of self-preservation.

Just then, Queen started playing out of the battered radio, which Mary had cleverly charmed during
the summer so that it worked at Hogwarts. Sirius smiled, leaping to his feet, and held out a hand to
Dorcas. He knew she loved the band just as much as he did, and hoped this would break their
moment of tension.

“Come on, let’s dance!” he exclaimed. Dorcas laughed and took his hand, all thoughts of the
conversation seemingly driven from her mind, and they both made their way further to the center
of the room, doing funny little spins and random steps to the music. People laughed to see them
dancing, but soon the volume on the radio had been increased, and there was a crowd in the center
of the room, all dancing along. James and Marlene soon joined them, as did Hestia, Emmeline,
Lily, and Mary. Remus, now sitting next to the fire, had declined, watching and laughing as his
friends made fools of themselves, his face rather flushed.
It took a while for them to get tired of dancing, but when they did, they sat on the floor, still
listening to the music and not talking much, having exhausted themselves. Mary fell asleep, curled
with her head in Lily’s lap, her hand still loosely wrapped around a bottle of Butterbeer. When
nighttime came, everyone seemed to get another wave of energy, however, and the common room
became loud again, drinking recommencing. By this time, most of the younger students had gone to
bed, and James had thrown away his resolution not to drink.

James’ level of intoxication was, of course, accelerated when Hestia organized a game of Never
Have I Ever, and all of the Marauders became considerably more intoxicated due to the crazy
stunts they’d pulled around Hogwarts during their time there. Still, it was Sirius who was the most
adventurous, and therefore Sirius who was barely coherent by the end of the game. This, of course,
was also confounded by the fact that Sirius, out of all the other Marauders, was the worst at
holding his drink.

“You’re officially cut off,” Lily said when the game was over, pulling Sirius’ drink out of his
unwilling fingers and placing it on a nearby table. She herself seemed quite wobbly, too, but not
nearly as bad as him. “I don’t fancy cleaning your vomit off the floor.”

“Aww, Lily flower,” Sirius pouted, slurring as he tried to get her into focus. She mustered up an
exasperated look, which he thought was very funny, given her own intoxication, then conjured
another cup and filled it with water, handing it to him.

“If you want to drink anything, drink this,” she said, then went back to sit beside Mary again.

After they’d exhausted the drinking games, they switched to the old classic, Truth or Dare. Despite
Remus’ amused assertion that “someday, we’ll outgrow this,” they still had an immense amount of
fun, with nearly everyone choosing dare as the game went on. Indeed, everyone laughed
uproariously as James tried to do a headstand, falling over onto Dorcas’ lap, Remus did a series of
very wobbly cartwheels around the room, knocking over one of the snack tables, and Peter
spellotaped his ankles together so that he had to hop everywhere for the rest of the night. Needless
to say, by the time their game was over, the common room was in ruins.

“Merlin, I hope McGonagall doesn’t come in to break this up,” James said from the floor. “I really
don’t think this scene would sit well with her.”

He’d taken Mary’s place, laying with his head in Lily’s lap as she stroked his hair, a rather amusing
blissed-out expression on her face. Sirius smirked, wondering if there was something in the water
that week. He was sure she’d regret that in the morning.

“We’re not being very loud anymore,” Emmeline pointed out. She was sitting, for some reason,
upside down on one of the armchairs, her head hanging down. Though her face was red, she hadn’t
moved for a while, so Sirius supposed she must be comfortable.

“Where does McGonagall even live, anyway?” Sirius asked, narrowing his eyes as he tried to form
a coherent thought, which took quite a lot of effort at the moment. “She always seems to know
when we’re being rowdy in here.”

“I dunno,” James said. “Maybe she has some kind of baby monitor for the common room. We
learned about them in Muggle Studies.”

Dorcas began to laugh, hiccuping as she did so. “That would mean she could hear everything going
on in here,” she said. “And you wouldn’t have gotten away with half of what you do if that were
true.”
James murmured in agreement, then fell silent again, closing his eyes as Lily ran her fingers
through his hair again and again. “I’ve always wanted to do this,” she said quietly, apparently to
herself. No one responded to her.

Sirius wondered if James had heard and if he had, whether he would remember it the next morning.
James, out of all of his friends, was the most likely to get hazy on the details after a night of
drinking, regardless of the amount of alcohol he consumed. That particular night, however, Sirius
guessed that he himself might have trouble with the details, too.

Outside of the common room windows, the sky was black, so that they could barely see the
grounds, except for the faint lights in Hagrid’s cabin. It was very quiet in the common room at that
point, too, with most students having gone to bed, leaving the seventh years lying out on the floor,
some asleep and others lost in thought, just like Sirius.

As it turned out, as Sirius had gotten progressively drunker throughout the night, he’d begun to
stare at Remus more and more. Luckily for him, most everyone else was drunk enough that no one
noticed this strange habit, but even if they’d noticed, Sirius didn’t think he would’ve been able to
take his eyes off of the other boy, anyway.

Sirius thought that Remus was beautiful. In the dim lighting, Remus’ eyes seemed to sparkle, and
the shadows the fire cast across his face only served to enhance the features Sirius loved. He
couldn’t help but stare at the line of his nose, the arch of his thick brows, the cluster of moles on
his neck, like a constellation…There was a scar peeking out from his collar that Sirius wanted to
trace lower, to map it out with all the others that he knew covered Remus’ body like brush strokes
on a canvas. It was the same impulse that’d come over him that first day that Remus had shown his
scars to Sirius in their third year, but it was stronger, now, more developed, as he had a name for
what he wanted.

Perhaps it was the alcohol that allowed Sirius, now, to think about his feelings for Remus without
recoiling with fear, or perhaps it was something else. Sirius looked over at Marlene and Dorcas,
laying on the ground. Marlene was propped against the couch, her eyes closed, letting out her soft,
wheezing snores, and Dorcas was laying with her head on her lap, also apparently dozing. Their
hands were still intertwined. The funny thing was that this position wouldn’t have seemed an
unusual one for them to be in before their relationship had changed, but to Sirius, all of a sudden, it
seemed like the most intimate thing in the world. Of course, Sirius had never grown up knowing
intimacy like that. His parents never touched in front of him, and love to him had seemed like what
magic was to Muggle children: just a fairytale.

The previous year, Sirius had thought his arrangement with Marlene was quite a good setup. He’d
logically understood why she’d wanted to end it, but he hadn’t really gotten it. Now, looking at
Marlene and Dorcas, he thought he finally did. Their postures seemed to encapsulate everything
that Marlene had told Sirius she wanted at the end of the last term. She wanted the whole damn
thing, she’d said: to hold hands, to kiss, to fall in love. It made more sense to him when he realized
that she’d already started to have feelings for Dorcas when she’d said those things. Now, with his
feelings for Remus, he realized it was quite hard to feel that way about someone and not want
those things with them.

It was at that moment that it hit him—he finally understood. The fear that plagued him, which was
wrapped around Remus and Sirius’ feelings for him, was a tangled ball of multicolored yarn, with
many sources, not just one. His fear, and the reason he’d taken so long to recognize his feelings for
Remus all those years, wasn’t just about the fact that Remus was a bloke. No, it was also that
Sirius was scared of loving anyone in that way, scared of wanting what he now desperately wanted
from Remus. He’d been taught, all those years with his mother, that to love someone was to put
himself into their power and to surrender himself to be hurt by them, not least because his mother
had always tried to impress upon him that no one could ever love him in a way that wasn’t tinged
with resentment, with disgust. Sirius knew that he was a lot to love, that it was perhaps too much to
ask for any good person like Remus to love him completely. Perhaps it was even selfish.

Sirius had put up a wall between him and needing anything from his parents many years before.
Regulus had remained inside the barriers, and Sirius had loved and protected him, needing him
more desperately than he’d needed anyone else for many years, even if he’d never admitted it to
his brother. In return, Regulus had hurt him by not standing by him when he’d needed it the most,
by not trying to protect Sirius in return, just as Sirius had hurt Regulus by leaving him all alone. It’d
served to emphasize the lessons he’d learned as a child, if he’d ever doubted them.

Of course, Sirius had loved many others in his lifetime. As he let himself love each new person—
the other Marauders, Marlene, Dorcas, James’ parents—he felt more defenseless, more vulnerable.
At the back of his mind always was the fear that they’d one day realize that he wasn’t deserving of
their love and leave him. But still, Sirius felt that this was nothing compared to the power he’d
surrender by allowing himself to fall in love. It seemed to him that loving someone in that way was
like selling your soul to them, leaving you helpless and irrational, craving one person as if you
were craving a hit from a drug. The thought of it terrified Sirius. Nevertheless, for some unknown
reason, he still wanted it.

He hadn’t always wanted it. For years, he’d thought that romance and dating were more trouble
than they were worth. He fancied several girls, sure, but he viewed these infatuations as
inconvenient more than anything else. Next to James, the hopeless romantic, there was Sirius, the
skeptical realist, who’d decided that it was more convenient to spend a year hooking up with a girl
he’d never had even an inkling of any romantic feelings for rather than face up to his demons.
Again, ironically, it’d been Marlene who’d told him to figure out what he really wanted, and Sirius
had realized that it wasn’t just Remus. It was something more.

Sirius experienced these series of deep realizations while lying flat on his stomach on the ground,
his eyes closed, a position which at least one person usually occupied at the end of each Gryffindor
party. Sirius thought he might’ve fallen asleep at some point, because he had no idea how much
time had passed when he felt an arm beneath his shoulder, hoisting him up. He opened his eyes and
focused blearily on a light brown head of hair next to his shoulder, and heard Remus’ voice in his
ear.

“Come on, Sirius, I think it’s time for you to get to bed.” Sirius smiled slightly and let Remus guide
him up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory. As they arrived, Remus set him down carefully on his
bed, and Sirius flopped back, feeling quite unable to keep himself in a sitting position. Remus
snorted in amusement, looking down at him from the side of the bed. “Exactly how many drinks
did you have tonight, then?”

Sirius grinned goofily up at the ceiling. “Lost count.”

“Figures,” Remus said, amusement still in his tone, moving away to the bathroom and returning
with a glass of water. He propped Sirius up to drink it, and Sirius gulped it down in several large
swallows.

“How many drinks did you have, then?” Sirius asked, gazing at Remus as he took the glass from
Sirius’ hand and placed it on the bedside table. Remus looked back and smiled at him, and Sirius
could still see the slight gleam of intoxication in Remus’ eyes, despite his scolding tone.

“Fewer than you, I’d wager,” Remus replied, moving back towards Sirius.
He knelt and began to unlace Sirius’ boots, tugging them off his feet. Straightening again, Remus
moved onto Sirius’ jacket, pulling it off of his limp arms one at a time. Sirius just gazed at Remus
as he did all of this, registering what was happening but not quite being able to send the relevant
information to his brain. Once Remus had removed Sirius’ jacket, he just looked at him and sighed.

“I’m afraid that if you want to be any more comfortable while you sleep, you’ll have to undress
yourself.” Then he gave Sirius a small, amused, signature Remus smile, and Sirius couldn’t handle
it anymore.

“Remus,” he said as the other boy began to turn away from him, back towards the dormitory door,
no doubt to get James and Peter. Remus turned back. Sirius didn’t even know what he’d wanted to
say, so he finished lamely, “Thanks.”

Remus nodded and smiled at him, but when he turned to move away a second time, he couldn’t, as
Sirius’ hand, outstretched, was now grasping his arm.

....

“Sirius, what—” Remus began, stopping when he saw the look on his intoxicated friend’s face,
which was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. Sirius’ eyes were wide, his long lashes framing
them as he gazed up at Remus, his lips slightly parted in what Remus could only describe as a look
of awe.

“I know what I want now,” Sirius said quietly, giving him a little nod as if to confirm the
statement, as he gazed at Remus with that strange, soft look in his grey eyes. Very slowly, Sirius
reached up and used both hands to cup Remus’ face, his thumbs tracing along his jawline. Remus
suddenly found that he couldn’t breathe, and his eyes were caught on Sirius’ as if the other boy
was mesmerizing him.

Then, even more slowly, gazing into his eyes the entire time, Sirius pulled Remus down to his
level. Remus went without protest, his gaze flicking down to look at Sirius’ lips when their faces
were only a few inches apart, each breath shared between them. Sirius’ lips were parted slightly,
full and pink and soft-looking. Remus’ heart had begun to beat fast, though his brain was far
behind in processing what was happening. His gaze flicked back up to Sirius’, and he only had a
split second to register that Sirius’ eyes had drifted closed before Sirius was pulling him in to press
their lips together.

Remus’ eyes fluttered shut as he absorbed the feeling of Sirius’ lips against his, soft but sure.
Without even realizing he was doing it, Remus’ opened his mouth slightly as he kissed Sirius back,
tasting the other boy’s bottom lip. Sirius’ mouth tasted slightly of firewhiskey, and perhaps that
was why the kiss felt like it burned a little, why it seemed to set Remus on fire from the inside out.
The kiss ended almost as soon as it’d begun, but it felt to Remus as though it lasted for eons. As
Sirius pulled back, Remus opened his eyes to stare at Sirius, whose eyes were still shut. Sirius
smiled softly, not opening his eyes, as if he was savoring the memory of the kiss.

Remus touched his fingers to his own lips, still trying to figure out what exactly had just occurred.
As he continued to stare at the other boy, Sirius, not opening his eyes, fell back onto his bed, curled
to the side on his pillow, and began to breathe deeply, clearly asleep. Remus was dumbstruck. He
backed away from Sirius’ bed and moved towards his own, undressing automatically before
climbing under his covers. Trying to ignore the huge chasm that Sirius had ripped into the fabric of
the universe, turning Remus’ world upside down and inside out, Remus closed his eyes. He
realized that he’d forgotten to get the rest of the boys back to their dorm, but he was very, very
tired, and hoped vaguely that they’d be able to figure themselves out, before falling asleep. His
dreams that night consisted of a confused whirl of images, Sirius at the forefront.
 ....

Sirius woke to sunlight filtering through his curtains the next morning and guessed that it was
probably quite late. Still, he lay in his bed for several minutes longer. He knew that once he stood,
he’d be hit with a sharp pain in his head, and would likely need to run to the loo to vomit. For the
moment, Sirius would rather spend his time recalling a good dream he’d had. He didn’t know
exactly at what point in the night he’d had the dream, but it came back to him relatively clearly,
and he was glad of it.

In the dream, Sirius had taken Remus’ face in both his hands and brought it down to his level to
kiss him. It’d felt simple, easy, even natural, just like breathing. In the dream, Remus had kissed
Sirius back, and the smell of bergamot and wool had surrounded Sirius. Sirius smiled into his
pillow, his cheeks warming as he savored the memory of Remus’ lips on his, even if it hadn’t been
real.

What last night had solidified for him, once and for all, however, was that he was going to tell
Remus how he felt about him. Sirius could only hope that it would go as well as it had in the
dream.

Chapter End Notes

:) !!!
 1977: Don't Make It Bad
Chapter Notes

cw: vomiting

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Hey Jude, don't let me down.

You have found her, now go and get her.

Remember to let her into your heart,

Then you can start to make it better.

- “Hey Jude,” The Beatles

The morning after the big Quidditch game, Lily woke up with a headache and the sense that
something small and furry had had the indecency to crawl into her mouth while she was sleeping
and die there. She closed her mouth, realizing that she’d been sleeping with it open, and the dry,
disgusting feeling lessened slightly, though it was quickly replaced with nausea as saliva rushed up.

Leaping up from her bed, Lily ran into the bathroom and fell to her knees before the toilet,
promptly expelling the contents of her stomach into it. After a minute it seemed as if all of the bile
was gone and Lily rose gingerly to her feet, rinsing her mouth out in the sink and examining her
reflection in the mirror. She had dark circles under her eyes, as well as the remnants of yesterday’s
makeup. Groaning, she locked the bathroom door behind her and turned the shower on. In it, she
scrubbed off about two layers of skin while ridding herself of the makeup as well as the stale
alcohol smell that lingered in her pores. Stepping out and wrapping a towel around herself, she felt
her situation was a bit more manageable, and finally allowed herself to think about what the hell
had happened the previous evening.

Details of the party came back to her slowly, like a polaroid picture gradually forming in her mind.
The game had finished, they’d all gone back up to the common room together, and shenanigans
had ensued. Lily smiled as she recalled watching Sirius, who’d been lying on his stomach on the
floor, his eyes closed, a funny expression on his face, at the end of the night. She, herself, had been
sitting on the ground, someone’s head resting in her lap, running her hands through—Shit! James
Potter’s hair?!

“Oh, fuck!” Lily exclaimed aloud before clapping her hands over her mouth. It was, after all, a
Sunday morning, and Lily hadn’t been able to look and see if her roommates were awake yet due to
her impromptu trip to upchuck in the bathroom toilet. She leaned against the wall, sliding down to
sit on the ground, and put her head in her hands.

I’ve always wanted to do this, she’d said the previous night as she’d run her hands through James’
unruly locks again and again. But that wasn’t true...was it?

“Lily?” A voice sounded at the door, accompanied by a few soft knocks. “Are you alright in
there?” Lily stood hastily, making sure her towel was secure, and went to open the door. Hestia
stood in the doorway, a concerned look on her face as she looked Lily up and down.

“I’m fine,” Lily said, giving Hestia a smile. “Sorry if I bothered you.”

“That’s alright,” Hestia responded, still looking perplexed. “I was waking up, anyway. I thought I
heard you cry out.”

“I, uh, poked myself in the eye,” Lily invented hastily. “No biggie.”

“Was that you puking before?” Hestia asked, a slight, rueful smile on her face. “Indulged a bit too
much last night?”

Lily sighed and nodded. “It seems so. On multiple levels.”

“So you remember?” Hestia said, smiling a bit wider, now. “That’s a good sign, at least.”

“Oh, I remember it all,” Lily said, dragging out the last syllable with distaste. Hestia laughed.

“You were getting pretty affectionate with James for a bit, there,” she said. “How do you feel now,
in the cold, harsh light of day?”

“Very embarrassed,” Lily admitted, flushing. She resolved to change the subject. “Did you have
fun last night?”

“Not as much as you,” Hestia said teasingly. When Lily blushed harder, she laughed. “Yeah, I did.
I spent some time getting to know the other Gryffindor players with Emmeline, and that was nice.
Georgie and Kingsley, I mean. Liam is sweet, but he’s a third year. It would be strange to hang out
with him.”

“That sounds nice,” Lily said. “I suppose you had the right amount of fun that doesn’t entail
throwing up after?”

“You’d be correct,” Hestia said, smiling. “Can I use the toilet if you’re done, though?”

“Of course,” Lily said, realizing that she was still blocking the door, and standing aside. “Sorry
I’ve been so long.”

“That’s okay,” Hestia reassured her, walking past her into the bathroom. “Drink some water,
alright, Lily?”

“Good idea,” Lily said, smiling and walking back to her bed, pouring herself a glass of water from
the pitcher and sipping it gingerly. Slowly, stiffly, she began to dress, her stomach still churning
unpleasantly. When she was dressed, she began to make a mental list of the homework she had to
do that day, staring out of the window. Across the room, she heard a rustling from Dorcas’ bed,
and after a moment, Marlene appeared, wearing a t-shirt and pajama bottoms, and looking very
bleary-eyed.

Over the course of their six years at Hogwarts, it’d never been unusual to find Marlene and Dorcas
sharing one of their beds, but on this particular morning, the sight made Lily, even hungover as she
was, beam with happiness.

“Good morning,” she greeted Marlene. “I think this is the latest I’ve ever seen you wake up.”

Marlene gave a huge yawn, then smiled at Lily, still blinking sleep out of her eyes. “Well, lots
happened yesterday,” she said. “But I guess this is the best sleep I’ve had in a while. You know,
not agonizing anymore about...certain things.”

Lily smiled. “I can only imagine.”

Marlene nodded, then, seeming to finally come to attention, let out a laugh. “I’m sure you can do
more than imagine,” she said, looking at Lily. “You and Jamie, eh?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Lily said, blushing again. “Is everyone I speak to today going to tease me?”

“Most likely,” Marlene responded, grinning. “What time is it, by the way?”

Lily checked the clock on her bedside table. “Almost ten.”

“Damn,” Marlene said, then leaned back through the curtains around Dorcas’ bed. “Dee, it’s time
to get up.” Lily heard what sounded like Dorcas’ protesting murmur in return, and Marlene
laughed softly. “You told me to wake you because you have essays to write, remember?” Another
groan came from the curtains, and Marlene emerged again, smiling and shaking her head.

“Well, she’d better not blame me when she’s stressed later today.”

Lily smiled. “When she’s up later, let her know I’ll be working in the library,” she said, grabbing
her books from her bedside table and shoving them into her bag. “Tell Mary, too, if you’re still
here when she wakes,” she added as an afterthought. She doubted Marlene would stick around that
long, but Mary would probably find her in the library, anyway.

“Not going to eat?” Marlene asked, raising her eyebrows. Lily made a face.

“No, my stomach isn’t feeling up to food at the moment.”

Marlene snorted out a laugh. “Makes sense.” All Lily could do was glare in response.

....

Lily ended up holing herself in the library for many hours that day before anyone found her, and
when someone did, it wasn’t who she’d been expecting. She’d supposed when she’d gone to her
regular corner that Dorcas, Mary, Remus, or even James would come and study with her for a time,
later in the day. However, it appeared as though all of them had been too thoroughly worn out by
the previous days’ antics, so it was Sirius who appeared between the shelves at two in the
afternoon and plopped himself down in the seat across from her, sending her a signature smirk.

“So,” Sirius said. “Lily, Lily, Lily.”

“Sirius, Sirius, Sirius?” Lily retorted, raising her eyebrows in exasperation at him. Sirius’ grin was
wide and knowing, and his eyes sparkled with mischief, as if he knew everything there was to
know about her. She was very annoyed to see that, despite the fact that he’d out-drunk all of them
the previous night, he didn’t appear hungover at all, but perhaps he was just good at hiding it.

“I’ve finally figured you out,” he said, a self-satisfied note in his voice.

“Do tell,” Lily said, trying to look bored and not acknowledge the way her pulse began to race,
guessing what would come next.

“You and Prongs were quite cuddly with each other last night, eh?” Sirius said, still smirking. Lily
flushed bright red and began to speak, but he cut her off. “Oh, yes, I do remember that very clearly.
I was worried I wouldn’t, so I wouldn’t be able to tell him about it, but I really really remember.”

“What do you mean, tell him about it?” Lily asked, her confusion overpowering her embarrassment
for the moment. “He doesn’t remember?”

“My mate Prongs has a bad habit of forgetting things when he drinks. He didn’t mention it this
morning, so I assume he forgot,” Sirius said, shrugging and smiling at her. “Oh, but he was in a
good mood when he woke up, anyway. Hopefully he didn’t forget anything too important.” His
grin widened still further suggestively, and Lily managed to redden even more, too.

“Nothing happened,” she hissed across at him, her voice low. “So you don’t have to tell him
anything, do you?”

“That would hardly be nice of me,” Sirius said, leaning back in his chair and putting his arms
behind his head. “He is my best friend, after all.”

“Is this blackmail, now?” Lily demanded angrily. “What do I have to do to get you to shut your
mouth?”

“Blackmail is such an ugly word,” Sirius said comfortably. “But what I would love for you to tell
me, Ms. Evans, is what exactly is going on in your pretty little mind.”

“I thought you said you had figured me out,” Lily said, tilting up her chin to give him a defiant
glare.

“Well, I’d like to be proved right,” Sirius replied. “So go on.”

“What do you want from me?” Lily asked again, looking him in the eyes, all glare gone to be
replaced with desperation. Sirius gazed back at her, smile fading from his face. There was a strange
look in his eyes, she thought, or perhaps it was just that she’d so rarely seen him look so solemn, or
so genuine.

“Just the truth,” he said. “Is that too much to manage?”

Lily couldn’t help but smile bitterly. “That’s rich, coming from you,” she said. Sirius narrowed his
eyes at her, suspicion and something like fear in them now. Lily felt a pang of regret. She hadn’t
meant that. Still, she didn’t really feel like apologizing to him, either. Lily sighed.

“I like him,” she admitted finally, the words feeling foreign to her ears. “But it’s complicated. It
was only last year that he started to grow on me, probably because he stopped flirting with me all
the goddamn time. But even then, sometimes I’d just want to punch him in his stupid face. Like I’d
come into a room and he’d just grin at me like I made his whole day, and I’d just get this urge to
break his nose. Sometimes I still want to.”

Sirius laughed, the grin coming back onto his face. “I suppose this is the part where I remember
why I like you, and also why you and I were at each other’s throats for so many years.” If looks
could kill, Sirius Black would have been in the ground years ago. Lily continued.

“But he surprised me,” she said. “When I had to work with him because of McGonagall, he really
showed me a different side, and I found myself liking who he is. But even now, sometimes I get
confused, because I don’t understand how he became this person, when he was someone
completely different before.”

“That’s because you, Lily Evans, don’t like seeing the grey in people,” Sirius said wisely. “It’s all
black and white, good and bad, right and wrong. James has changed, yeah, that’s what happens
when you grow up, but he’s not a completely different person than who he was before. You just
refused to see him before.”

Lily frowned. “Even these days, though,” she said. “Sometimes I think we’re too different. I mean,
we approach problems completely differently. I don’t like it when he’s reckless, or impulsive.”

“So you’d like all the people you’re around to agree with you all the time?” Sirius asked, raising
his eyebrows incredulously at her.

“No, of course not,” Lily defended. “But—”

“You know, I really don’t think it’s that complicated at all between you and James,” Sirius
interrupted her, clearly uninterested in debating the finer points of friendship and ideology at the
moment. “I mean, you have to know it’s not complicated on his end.”

Lily felt her cheeks warm again, but she only sighed. “That doesn’t help me, Sirius.”

“Oh, I know,” Sirius said, smiling. “But I wanted to make sure you knew. And as for you, I think
it’s actually quite simple, too, though you won’t admit it to yourself.”

“How so?” Lily asked curiously.

“Well, basically,” Sirius said, as if he were explaining something very simple to a two-year-old.
“You fancy the pants off of him. You probably have for a while. You’re just annoyed that you
couldn’t keep him in the same little labeled box that you put him in when you first met him. You
realized you were wrong about him, and you’re just too stubborn to admit that, so you’re getting in
the way of yourself.”

Lily narrowed her eyes at Sirius, trying to find some kind of insult to invalidate what he’d just said.
He smirked at her. “You also probably need some lessons in anger management,” he added, as if as
an afterthought.

“You’re an arsehole,” was all that Lily could come up with as a retort.

“Yes, definitely,” Sirius said, grinning widely at her. “But, regardless, what are you going to do?”

Lily looked at him for a long moment, contemplating all that he’d said, then sighed again, and
shook her head. “It’ll pass.”

Sirius blinked at her, looking taken aback for the first time. “Excuse me?”

“It’ll pass,” she repeated, avoiding his eyes. “You’re right: I fancy James. But we’re working
together as Heads and it would interfere, and anyway, it wouldn’t work out. We’re too young, it’s
too soon, and we’re too different. There’s a war going on, after all.”

There was a long pause, when Sirius stared at her, emotions chasing each other across his face.
Eventually, he seemed to settle on anger, and it came bubbling to the surface, as Lily had seen it so
often before.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sirius asked, staring at her, his eyes blazing. “Lily, I’ve just told
you that you can have James. He’s yours. He’s been yours since fifth year, and all you have to do is
say one word and he’ll be there. And you’re not even going to do that?”

“I—” Lily didn’t get to make her counterpoint, however, as Sirius was clearly now on a tirade,
getting angrier and angrier with every word.
“Do you understand—does it penetrate that clueless, stubborn brain of yours how good you have
it?” His voice had risen, though not enough that Madam Pince had come running yet, luckily.
“James is one of the best people I know. He’s bloody perfect. He wakes up at the crack of dawn
with a bloody smile on his face, he sings Beatles songs in the bloody shower, he clucks around like
a mother hen taking care of all of the rest of us, he took me in when I ran away from home, and
he’s been mooning after you—on and off, admittedly—for more than two years. You’d shoot some
snarky comment at him in fifth and he’d look at you like you were the most beautiful goddamn
thing on the planet, like you were made of gold. And you fancy him, Evans, you fancy him, and
he’s yours! You don’t have to worry about rejection. And you want to just let it pass, do you?”

Sirius was breathing heavily now, as if he’d run a race. The look on his face was a mixture of
disbelief and absolute fury as he stared at Lily. Suddenly, he pushed his chair back away from the
table and stood, turning to leave.

“Wait, Sirius!” Lily called after him frantically. “Are you going to tell James?”

Sirius paused, looking back at her for a long moment, his eyes molten silver, then shook his head.
“No, I won’t,” he shot back finally. “But you need to figure your shit out, Evans.” He shook his
head again angrily, then stormed away, bumping against one of the shelves so violently on his way
out that several books fell out the other side onto the floor.

Lily stared after him for a moment, then shook her head, sighing, and turned back to her
Transfiguration homework. Part of her had really wanted James to stop by, even if just to help her
with it. She’d become used to having him there, at her side, almost every day. That day, however,
he continued to be absent, as were Dorcas and Mary, and Lily finished her work alone before
retiring to her dormitory again.

....

With Monday morning came the first snow of the season. Lily saw it begin to fall from her bed
when she opened her curtains in the morning, but it didn’t stick as it hit the ground, just melted.
Lily guessed this would likely leave the ground muddy and hard to traverse for Herbology that
morning. She rose slowly, shivering in the cold air, and dressed warmly. Despite the draftiness of
the castle, Lily liked winter. The snow was beautiful when it blanketed the grounds, and the warm
food and Christmas decorations were always lovely.

Lily was accompanied by Dorcas on her way down to the Great Hall for breakfast, as Marlene had
an early morning Quidditch practice and was already up. Lily was happy about this: she hadn’t
gotten a chance to talk to her friend since everything had happened on Saturday.

“So,” she said, smiling at Dorcas as they descended the Grand Staircase together. “How is it?”

“How’s what?” Dorcas asked, but there was a teasing note in her voice.

“Oh, you know,” Lily said, grinning even wider. “Marlene. Being in a relationship. Is it everything
you dreamed of?”

“It’s…” Dorcas trailed off, and a rather goofy smile broke across her face, her eyes twinkling with
happiness. She glanced over and met Lily’s eyes, blushing slightly. “It’s even better than I dreamed
it would be, honestly. I’m not sure I could’ve even imagined what it’d feel like.”

“That’s amazing,” Lily said, beaming at Dorcas. “It’s honestly...just amazing. I thought—well, you
know I wanted to meddle. I wanted so badly to meddle. And I was nosy, so so so nosy, but I tried to
restrain myself and I tried not to make assumptions. Still, I was always crazy enough to believe that
you two would end up together, ever since I realized how you felt about her. It feels good to be
right.”

Dorcas laughed. “I’m glad you got your “I told you so” moment out of this, Lily,” she joked. “I
wasn’t quite crazy enough to believe that we’d end up together, but here we are. After so many
years.” She turned to Lily again, and Lily thought her smile might actually split the corners of her
mouth, it was so wide. “This is real, right? It’s not a dream?”

Lily smiled, reached out, and gave her arm a slight pinch through her sweater. Dorcas laughed
again, rubbing her arm. “Well, that hurt, so I must be awake.”

Lily laughed, too. “So, no complaints so far, then?” Dorcas’ expression twitch slightly, and Lily
made a face. “Uh oh.”

“No, no,” Dorcas reassured her, shaking her head. “It’s not a complaint. And it’s not Marlene that’s
doing anything wrong. We’re just having...well, a slight disagreement over how and when to tell
people about our relationship, that’s all.”

“She doesn’t want to tell our friends?” Lily asked, taken aback. Dorcas sighed and shook her head,
avoiding Lily’s gaze.

“She does,” Dorcas admitted quietly. “I’m the one who doesn’t.”

“Oh, Dorcas,” Lily said, frowning and laying a comforting hand on her arm. “Why not?”

“I...well, it’s just all happening so fast,” Dorcas said, her dark eyes wide and vulnerable. “It’s not
that I don’t want to tell people, I just don’t know how. Or when. Or who we tell. I mean, I don’t
know if I can just blindly believe that everyone will support me like you do.”

“You don’t trust people to react well?” Lily asked, her voice sympathetic.

“I don’t know,” Dorcas said. “I mean, it’s not that I don’t trust my friends. It’s just that this...I’ve
never talked to any of them about this sort of thing before. I don’t know how they’ll feel about it.”

“I get that,” Lily said. “But the rest of the girls love you and Marlene. They want you to be happy.
And all the people you’ve told so far have reacted well, haven’t they?”

“Yes, they have,” Dorcas admitted. “I know logically that our friends probably won’t care. It’s
just...difficult.”

“That makes sense,” Lily said. “Shouldn’t Marlene understand that?”

“She does,” Dorcas said. “She’s not mad, not at me, anyway. She’s just frustrated that we can’t be
like other couples. She wishes it was easy. She says she wants everyone to know that she’s mine,
and I’m hers.” Dorcas blushed as she said this, and Lily positively melted.

“That’s so sweet,” Lily said, beaming. Dorcas nodded shyly, and they entered the Great Hall
together, walking towards the Gryffindor table. Lily hesitated for a split second as she saw that
Dorcas was heading straight to where James, Sirius, and Marlene were sitting, clearly having just
gotten out of Quidditch practice. She glanced towards Emmeline, who was a few yards down the
table, chatting with Georgie Huxley and Hestia, but she knew it’d look very strange if she split off
from Dorcas to go sit with them instead, so she squared her shoulders and followed Dorcas.

Marlene smiled as Dorcas slid into the seat next to hers, and Lily saw her thread Dorcas’ fingers
through hers under the table. Grinning at this adorable sight, Lily sat down next to Dorcas, but her
smile faded quickly as she glanced across the table at Sirius, who looked back at her stonily.
Hastily, she turned her gaze down towards the table and began to serve herself eggs on toast.
Feeling another pair of eyes on her, she looked up and met James’ gaze. He gave her a small, warm
smile, and Lily returned it nervously, looking away quickly and taking a large gulp of pumpkin
juice to cover her awkwardness. Sirius snorted slightly, across from her. Jesus Christ, Lily thought.
This is going to be a strange day.

As it turned out, it was not only a strange day but a strange week, too. It seemed as if half of Lily’s
friends were acting oddly: Remus was being shifty and evasive, holing himself up in the library
whenever he wasn’t in classes, as he always did when he was trying to avoid someone or
something. Sirius’ moods seemed all over the place, too. In many moments, he seemed more
lighthearted than he’d been in a long time, joking with Marlene and James, and in others, he
seemed distant and distracted, his eyes unfocused and a brooding look on his face. Whenever Lily
saw him in the common room, or at meal times, he seemed to constantly be looking towards the
door, and Lily guessed that he was feeling Remus’ absence. Regardless of his moodiness, Sirius
continued to ignore Lily, his expression darkening whenever he laid eyes on her, and Lily didn’t
have the energy to talk him out of this behavior.

Then there were Marlene and Dorcas, who didn’t seem to quite know how to act around each other
in public anymore. They seemed to solve this problem by sneaking off to be alone more often than
not, these days, Dorcas even going so far as skipping her Muggle Studies class on Thursday
morning, which Lily didn’t think Dorcas had ever done in her time at Hogwarts. James, too,
confessed to Lily that he wasn’t sure how to act around the two these days, either.

“Obviously I don’t want to give them away or anything,” he’d said on Monday night as they
patrolled together. “But it feels strange to act like nothing’s changed in their relationship. I wish
they’d tell more people. I keep worrying that I’ll accidentally say something dense about it to
Remus or Peter.” While Lily felt similarly, she knew that they’d all just have to wait and see who
Marlene and Dorcas chose to tell about their relationship, and when they’d confide in them.

Despite this confidence to her on Monday, James had been becoming more and more distant as the
week drew on. On Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, he’d been acting completely normally
towards her, and his spirits had been high, which Lily attributed to the after-effects of winning the
Quidditch game against Slytherin. But in the later days, she ended up alone more often than usual
and found herself searching for him. She wasn’t used to this. James usually positioned himself
wherever everyone else was; he was never hard to find. She wondered if Sirius had been right in
saying that James hadn’t remembered how Lily had acted toward him at the party. She wasn’t sure
whether she wanted him to remember or not, truth be told. Still, she told herself that if he did
remember, he would’ve mentioned it to her by then, so his strange disappearances must be caused
by something else. She tried not to dwell on it.

....

By the weekend, the snow had accumulated on the grounds and was now sticking, blanketing the
grass and castle peaks and making everything look even more magical than usual. Still, the mood
among Lily and her fellow seventh years was dismal, partly because of each of their own personal
entanglements that they were all wrapped up in, and partly because of the increased workload in
the final month of their fall term.

Still, the Gryffindor girls made time on Sunday afternoon to walk out onto the grounds together,
deciding to have an impromptu snowball fight near the greenhouses, out of sight and earshot of the
rest of the grounds, where a few other students were engaged in similar activities. Lily was out of
breath after fifteen minutes, both from laughing and because she was completely unable to keep up
with Marlene and Emmeline, with all their Quidditch training. Dorcas, too, was unexpectedly good,
and Lily rather thought that this was probably due to hanging around the rest of the Marauders and
Marlene so much during the holidays. Indeed, another snowball came racing towards Lily,
seemingly out of nowhere, and she ducked to avoid it before looking back up for its source, mouth
open in indignation.

“How do you have such good aim?” she yelled across at Dorcas, who was laughing at her. Dorcas
shrugged innocently, and, without raising a finger, another snowball came straight for Lily, hitting
her on the side of her shoulder.

“Ow!” Lily protested, throwing one back, which missed by several feet. She squinted across at
Dorcas suspiciously. “You’re using magic! But you don’t have your wand out!” Then, she spotted
Marlene, a few yards away from Dorcas, smirking slightly at her, and she shouted in indignation:
“You two are using wandless magic against me?!”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself,” Marlene called across to her, following another snowball with her eyes
as it flew towards Emmeline, hitting her on the back with a soft thump. “We’re doing it to
everyone.”

“So was it you two who made the chalk float and change the names of potion ingredients to sound
filthy last year?” Lily asked, suddenly suspicious. Dorcas shot a glare at Marlene, who doubled up
with laughter at the memory.

“No, that was just Marlene,” Dorcas said as her girlfriend wiped away tears of mirth from her eyes.
“But I will admit to using it to mess with a few of the professors over the years.”

“When Professor Kneen kept trying to write something on the blackboard and it just erased itself as
he wrote in fourth?” Lily asked, narrowing her eyes at Dorcas and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Oh, yeah, that was both of us,” Dorcas said sheepishly. “In my defense, I never liked Kneen.”

“You didn’t give him dragon pox, though, at the end of the year, did you?”

“Come on, we’re not that powerful,” Marlene said, recovering herself and smirking. “Anyway,
there’s no point in trying to get rid of D.A.D.A. professors. They just get rid of themselves, don’t
they? No one longer than a year.”

“Abbott’s got the right idea,” Hestia called over, evidently having been listening to their
conversation. “He already says he’s going to leave after a year, so at least he won’t have an
accident that makes him leave. Good, too, he’s one of the best we’ve ever had.”

“He is very good,” Lily agreed. “Too bad for the younger students, though, that they won’t get him
in the future.”

“He’s brilliant,” Marlene said, for some reason looking like she was about to burst into giggles.
“You’ll never believe what Sirius—”

“Marlene,” Dorcas scolded, but she was smiling, too. “I don’t know if that’s something you should
bandy about.”

“What?” Hestia asked, curious excitement lighting up her eyes. “I want to know!”

Marlene pouted. “Dorcas is probably right, actually,” she admitted. “I shouldn’t gossip about it.”
Lily’s curiosity was well and fully peaked, then, too, but she didn’t prod.
“There are better things to gossip about, anyway,” Dorcas said, glancing at Marlene and smiling.
Marlene smiled, too, in a secretive sort of way. There seemed to be an unspoken signal between
them, and Lily wasn’t the only one who sensed it. Mary and Emmeline, who’d been pelting each
other with snowballs while the others talked, now stopped and looked around.

“Like what?” Hestia asked, her eyes lighting up with interest, looking back and forth between
Marlene and Dorcas. Dorcas looked around, seeing that she was getting the full attention of every
one of the seventh-year Gryffindor girls, and smiled nervously.

“Uh, well,” she began, glancing over to Marlene, who smiled and walked over to her side. “There’s
something that we wanted to tell you all.”

Lily’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but she smiled nonetheless. She hadn’t expected it to happen
so quickly. Dorcas glanced over at her, and Lily gave her an encouraging smile. Emmeline and
Mary both moved in curiously, as did Hestia.

“What is it?” Mary asked, looking from Marlene and Dorcas, standing next to one another, to Lily,
who she’d clearly realized knew what was going on.

In answer, Marlene reached over to Dorcas and intertwined their fingers together. “We—me and
Dee—we’re together, now.”

Mary looked from Marlene and Dorcas’ intertwined hands back to their faces, seemingly
uncomprehending. Emmeline was staring at them, too, her mouth slightly open.

“You’re dating?” It was Hestia who spoke, her eyes flitting quickly between Marlene’s and
Dorcas’ expressions. Dorcas looked nervous, while Marlene had her chin raised almost defiantly,
and nodded. There was silence for another moment, then Hestia’s face broke into a huge grin.

“Finally!” she exclaimed, doing a little dance in the snow in celebration. “Oh, thank Merlin.
Congratulations!” She ran across to them and wrapped first Marlene and then Dorcas in a hug. Lily
overcame her shock at Hestia’s reaction in a second, smiling as she watched Dorcas’ comically
surprised expression, squashed into Hestia’s shoulder. Hestia drew back, beaming. Lily almost
laughed.

“I don’t understand,” Marlene said, staring at Hestia in shock. “You wanted us to get together?”

“Oh please,” Hestia waved her hand airily, still smiling. “You two aren’t as subtle as you think you
are. You—” she pointed at Dorcas, “—have been staring at Marley since third. And you—” she
directed her accusing finger at Marlene, who was now smiling at Dorcas teasingly. “You didn’t
really think no one noticed you turning tomato red every time Dee so much as brushed against you
at the end of last year?” Marlene, accordingly, turned scarlet at this statement.

“You knew since third?” Dorcas squeaked out, a flabbergasted expression on her face.

Hestia shrugged casually. “There’s not much to entertain me at Hogwarts,” she said. “I like to
observe people.”

“Well done,” Lily said, smiling in amusement at her. “I didn’t know until last year.”

“Thanks,” Hestia replied, beaming at her.

“Um, I’m still a little lost,” Mary broke in, from where she’d been staring at all of them in turn,
looking perplexed.
“Oh, so that’s why—” Emmeline said, her mouth still slightly open, eyes unfocused as she looked
at Marlene and Dorcas. “Everything makes so much more sense now.”

Marlene raised her eyebrows at her, but Emmeline did not elaborate. Dorcas directed her next
words at Mary. “It’s alright if this is confusing,” she said, her voice still sounding a little nervous.
“Do you have questions for us?”

“I mean—” Mary said, her brows knitted. “I’ve just never heard of—well, I don’t know, anything
like this. I grew up in Cornwall, after all. So you two—you’re dating. And you’ve got feelings for
one another, romantic feelings?”

“Yes,” Dorcas said, giving Marlene a nervous, sidelong smile. “As Tia correctly observed, I’ve
been in love with Marlene since third year.”

Marlene beamed down at her, the blush not having yet left her cheeks from Hestia’s earlier
comment. “So, you fancy girls?” Mary asked, blinking at Dorcas as if she was trying to do some
mental math.

Dorcas nodded. “I only fancy girls,” she confirmed. “Marley likes both girls and blokes.”

“Huh,” Mary said, looking as though she was still trying to wrap her head around the idea that such
a thing was possible. After a moment, she gave them a small smile. “So, you’re happy?”

Marlene looked at Dorcas, and Dorcas smiled back at her. “Very happy,” Marlene said, wrapping
her arm around Dorcas and pulling her closer. “Especially now that we’re telling you all.”

“Good,” Mary said. “I’m happy for you, then.” Dorcas smiled at her, relief and happiness showing
on her face, tears gleaming in her eyes.

“Thank you, Mac,” she said. Lily thought she might start crying, and Marlene gave her a little
squeeze, arm still around her shoulders. Dorcas sniffed, wiping away the tears from her eyes.

“I echo Mary’s sentiment,” Emmeline said, smiling at Dorcas and Marlene. “I suppose I wasn’t as
clever as Hestia and Lily, since I didn’t see it before, but I’m happy for you both. How long has this
been going on, anyway?”

“We only got together a week ago,” Marlene said. “It took us a while to figure it out, ourselves.”

“How did it happen?” Mary asked curiously. Marlene blushed, and Dorcas laughed.

“It’s a very funny story,” she said. “Looking back, at least.”

As Dorcas began to tell the story, Marlene evidently decided that she was going to avoid the
embarrassment of hearing about her own cluelessness by building a snowman, which the other girls
quickly joined in on as they listened. Once the story was done, however, they continued to build,
continuing to discuss the new development for a while, then veering off topic into other areas of
their lives. Lily couldn’t help but notice the happy flush on Dorcas’ face, and the way that Marlene
and Dorcas would turn to look at each other every so often, just to share a glance and a smile.

After a few hours, their snowman was fully formed, though it looked a bit lopsided, and Lily felt
that its smile looked strangely misshapen, more like a grimace, really. Still, proud of their work,
they made Mary summon her polaroid camera from their dorm and took turns posing ridiculously
in front of the snowman as the camera was passed between them. Just as they were heading into
the castle, Lily saw Marlene draw Dorcas towards her, smiling and kissing her soundly. Lily
beamed at the pair of them, and, out of the corner of her eye, saw the flash of the camera. Mary,
standing a bit behind her, had caught the moment, too, and decided to immortalize it with her
camera. As the two girls pulled away from each other, Mary smiled at them, beginning to shake the
picture as it fell out of the camera.

Marlene and Dorcas walked back to the castle together, Marlene’s arm draped around Dorcas’
waist. The smiles on their faces were so brilliant, so genuine, that looking at them was almost like
staring into the sun. After the picture developed, Mary handed it over to Marlene, who smiled as
she examined it with Dorcas, then stowed it into the pocket of her coat. Approaching the castle
doors, they released one another rather reluctantly, and all of the girls headed into the Great Hall
for dinner.

Over their stew, Emmeline turned to Hestia, a small smile playing across her face. “So, Tia,” she
said. “What else have you observed in our classmates over the years?”

Hestia laughed, shaking her head. “My lips are sealed,” she said. “I don’t make a habit of telling
other people’s secrets.”

After dinner, the girls headed back up to their common room together. When they entered it,
Dorcas and Marlene stopped to sit with James and Sirius. When Lily glanced their way, James very
obviously ducked his head, avoiding her gaze. Lily felt a slight drop of hurt, but she didn’t dwell on
it, making her way up to the dormitory with Mary as Hestia and Emmeline settled themselves into
two comfortable armchairs by the fire. Lily had put down her bag and was already taking out her
sweatpants to change into when Mary spoke behind her.

“Lils, there’s something you need to know,” she said. Lily turned and found that Mary was looking
at her earnestly, her light brown eyes anxious.

“What’s up?” Lily asked cautiously, taking in her friend’s expression. Mary closed the dormitory
door, then hurried closer to Lily, as if she was worried about being overheard.

“Miranda told me at lunch, and I was going to say something to you all this afternoon, but then I
didn’t want to ruin the moment for Dorcas and Marlene,” Mary said, her voice low and urgent.
“Apparently, some younger Ravenclaw student heard it from a Hufflepuff, who heard it from a
Slytherin. Anyway, all the Ravenclaws have been talking about it.”

“What is it?” Lily asked, her eyes locked on Mary’s face, drinking in every word. Mary gazed back
at her, her mouth set in a slight frown.

“They said that Voldemort has started recruiting inside of Hogwarts.”

“What?” Lily demanded, aghast. “Did Miranda tell you anything else?”

Mary shrugged. “Nothing definite,” she replied. “It’s just a rumor going around. But she heard that
some of the older Slytherins have been bragging about being initiated or something. Or it could be
that they’re going to be initiated soon. She wasn’t sure.”

“Fuck,” Lily intoned under her breath. “Fuck fuck fuck. As if they’re not already bad enough. This
is bad, really bad.”

“I know,” Mary said. “Dumbledore needs to know, and McGonagall. I don’t know what they can
do, but they need to know.”

“I’ll tell them,” Lily said reassuringly. “I’ll tell them right away. I have to go find James first,
though. We need to approach them together.”
Abandoning all prospects of relaxing that evening, Lily bade Mary a quick goodbye and strode
back down into the common room. Looking around, she saw that James, who’d been sitting with
Dorcas, Marlene, and Sirius only a few minutes ago, was now absent. She hurried over to them.

“Where’s James?”

All three looked up at her, Marlene’s and Dorcas’ gazes curious, Sirius’ hostile. “What do you
need him for?” Sirius asked. Marlene rolled her eyes and elbowed him, shooting him a look.

“Head duty stuff,” Lily replied quickly. “Do you know where he is?”

“He went to the library,” Dorcas replied. “He said that he had to find a book.”

Marlene gave her a sideways, disbelieving glance. “Yeah, right,” she said. “He’s gone to sulk.”
Dorcas shot her a pointed, admonitory glance, then looked back at Lily.

“Lily, I, uh—” She glanced at Sirius, as if to ask for help, but Sirius was still giving Lily a hostile
glare, and Dorcas sighed, turning back to look at Lily. “I don’t know if he really wants to talk to
you, right now. Or...I don’t know if it’d be wise for you to approach him at the moment.”

“Why?” Lily asked, her brows furrowing in confusion. She glanced at Sirius again, but his grey
glare gave nothing away. She shook her head. “Well, it doesn’t matter right now. I have to talk to
him.”

Dorcas opened her mouth, perhaps to protest, but Lily was already hurrying out of the common
room, heading down the Grand Staircase towards the library. She knew that perhaps it wasn’t the
wisest decision to be walking around the castle alone after dark, especially after the news she’d just
gotten from Mary, and the promise she’d made to McGonagall at the beginning of term, but this
was important. She needed to talk to James, even if he didn’t want to speak to her for whatever
reason.

Lily finally found him in between the stacks in the Transfiguration section of the library, sitting on
the ground. He wasn’t reading, however, but staring fixedly at the shelf across from him, a look of
concentration on his face, his brow furrowed.

“James?” Lily said cautiously. “Can I talk to you?” He looked up at her, but his expression didn’t
change.

“Okay,” he said, but didn’t move, so Lily sat down at a diagonal from him. Somehow, she felt that
she didn’t want to be fixed with his gaze, and perhaps he didn’t want to look at her, either.

“Mary just told me that—”

“Lily,” James said abruptly, interrupting her, and turning to look at her, away from the books. His
hazel eyes had a look in them that Lily had never seen before, or maybe he’d just never looked at
her like that. “What are you doing?”

“What?” Lily asked, caught off guard, staring at him. She felt a bit wary of him at that moment and
resisted the urge to flinch away from his piercing stare.

“What are you doing with me?” Though his voice was level, Lily knew this time that James was
angry. His eyes were molten, and his jaw clenched.

“James, I—” Lily started, shaking her head, confused and apprehensive, but his stare was enough
to silence her.
“I’ve been waiting for a week for you to say something to me, anything that would explain how
you were with me after the Quidditch game,” James said evenly, his eyes piercing her. “And
you’ve just been tiptoeing around, pretending everything is normal and fine, and it’s not. It’s not
fine, Lily. That night...it felt like—it felt like we were a couple. And I know we’re not. And you
said…well, it doesn’t matter. What matters is the fact that you haven’t said anything since.”

There was a long silence, where Lily stared at James. Then, she spoke, with what was probably the
worst thing to say. “I thought you didn’t remember.”

James snorted and shook his head, looking towards the ceiling in exasperation and then back to
her. “I may get fuzzy on details when I’m drinking,” he said, eyes piercing hers. “But I remember
what’s important.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, then?” Lily asked weakly. James let out a long, frustrated breath,
and shook his head, looking away from her.

“Because I didn’t want to be that bloke,” he said, his voice pained. “That bloke you hated in fifth
year. That bloke who pestered you, and flirted with you, and wanted your attention whether you
wanted to give it or not. I thought you’d come to it in your own time, that you’d think it out and
then you’d come to me, but you didn’t, Lily. It’s been a week, and you haven’t. And I realized that
now I’m being that bloke who lays down and lets you walk all over me, and I deserve more than
that.”

“James, I—” Lily started again, at a loss for what to say.

“Lily, please just tell me something,” James said. “Please just tell me something true, and then if
you need space, I’ll give you all the space you need, but please. I don’t understand the games
you’re playing, and I need you to just tell me.” There was a long silence, Lily’s heart beating as she
stared at him before speaking.

“I can’t,” Lily said softly. “I—I don’t. I can’t do this. I’m sorry if I led you on, but you and me…”
She trailed off, watching him as his hazel eyes searched her face, angry, frantic, disbelieving, and,
most of all, sad. That was the worst to deal with. She swallowed, then set her jaw. “I can’t do this
now.”

James stared at her, and she thought she saw a door close in his eyes, shutting her out completely.
“I need to tell you something,” she continued on doggedly, trying to push away the heavy, aching
feeling which had settled in her stomach. “Something important.”

“Sure, Evans,” James replied, looking away from her, his voice tired and slightly bitter, his tone so
different from what she was used to these days. “I’m always here to help, whenever you need me.”
She ignored the renewed use of her last name, though it struck something inside her, something
painful, and the ache worsened.

“Voldemort is recruiting at Hogwarts,” she said, lowering her voice. James looked back at her, and
now, she knew, she’d captured his attention. “Miranda told Mary that there’s a rumor going around
that some of the older Slytherins have been initiated, or are going to be soon.”

James seemed to digest the information for a moment, scanning her face, then he spoke. “We need
to tell Dumbledore,” he said. Lily nodded.

“I thought we should go together.”

“Okay,” James replied. “Let’s go.”

 He stood up, hesitated, and offered a hand to help her up, too. She took it, trying to ignore how
warm it was in hers, or how soft his light brown skin was. She couldn’t think about him that way,
now. They had important business to deal with regarding the war. Neither feeling of his hand in
hers nor the memory of running her fingers through his hair could be on her mind at the moment.

They walked in silence out of the library, making their way up to Dumbledore’s office on the third
floor. After a few minutes, James spoke. “Did you walk from the common room alone?”

Lily glanced over at him. His face was still a mask, not showing emotion, the same as his voice.
“Yes,” she admitted. “I needed to find you quickly.” James nodded.

“All the same,” he said, still not looking at her. “You shouldn’t be walking alone after dark,
especially after this news. You said you’d be careful.” He glanced at her for the first time, and Lily
nodded. She understood. James was angry with her, he was hurt, and he was trying not to show it,
but he still cared. James always cared.

“I’ll be more careful,” she told him. “I promise.” He gave a terse nod, and they walked the rest of
the way to the headmaster’s office in silence.

Chapter End Notes

The promised angst! But also good things! Marlene and Dorcas are golden and
deserve so much.

Also, trust me, no matter how mad you are at Lily right now, she's definitely more
mad at herself.
 1977: Racing Thoughts

Remus was having a crisis. Of course, he’d been having a crisis for the past two weeks. He wasn’t
sure why no one had commented on it by now, but then again, perhaps his friends were just used to
his crises and let him get on with them in peace. On the other hand, it seemed like everyone was
having a crisis these days, so maybe they were too busy with their own thoughts.

After all, it’d only been a week previously that all the seventh-year Gryffindors had found out that
there might be new Death Eaters within the walls of Hogwarts. Lily had confided in Remus that
there wasn't much more that Dumbledore could do to tighten security at the school following the
news, so their daily lives hadn't changed, but they were all on edge. Sirius had been especially
quiet, too, after this news, and Remus knew that he was thinking of his brother. Surely, though,
Remus told himself, Regulus was too young to become a Death Eater. Remus had nothing to back
this notion, however, so he didn’t mention it to Sirius.

Under normal circumstances, James would probably be the most likely to seek Remus out and ask
him what was wrong, but James was quite preoccupied with his own issues. Remus had never
known James to be much of a brooder, but these days he was doing it with a vengeance. Of course,
Remus couldn’t blame him. What else was a person to do after someone they fancied acted in a
way that made it seem like they had feelings for them, then wouldn’t clarify those actions
afterward? Remus sighed, rolling his right shoulder, which had already begun to ache, as it often
did several days before the full moon.

Despite his brooding, James still managed to take some of his friendship duties very seriously, as
he'd called a meeting of the Marauders only the day before, to talk about something very important.

“Hey, you lot,” James had called, entering the dormitory and clapping his hands together. “Come
on, we need to have a chat.” Remus had looked up from where he was reading, while Peter
bumped his head on his four-poster bed as he straightened up to face James, and Sirius exited the
bathroom, looking bored.

“What’s up?” Peter asked, looking curiously at James. James grinned nervously.

“I've been authorized to tell you both this by Dorcas and Marlene, as, in Marlene’s words, she
doesn’t have time to go announcing it to everyone,” he said, glancing at Sirius, who raised his
eyebrows at him, demonstrating interest for the first time.

James gave him a short smile then turned back to the rest, taking a deep breath before speaking
again, his next words coming out much more rapidly than the last. “Dee and Marley are together.
Like, together together. They’re dating. And we’re cool with it, okay? We’re happy for them. So
let’s not make a big deal.”

James gave both Remus and Peter a warning look, which Remus might have found funny if he
hadn’t been so surprised. His eyes, unbidden, flicked to Sirius, and he found that Sirius was looking
back at him, too, though he looked away when Remus’ gaze fell on him, his expression unreadable.
Peter, on the other hand, looked as though he'd been hit by a truck, his mouth hanging open rather
unattractively.

“But—” Peter started, evidently trying to marshal his thoughts. “But, how? I mean...how long?
What?!” He ended with an even more perplexed look on his face, staring at James.

Sirius snorted out a slight laugh which he quickly turned into a cough as Peter’s eyes went to him,
narrowing suspiciously. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“Yep,” Sirius said, shrugging nonchalantly, though Remus thought he looked unusually alert as he
gazed back at Peter, as if trying to gauge his reaction.

“But—but,” Peter said, looking as if he was taking a test and struggling to find the right answer.
“But you and Marley!”

Remus’ gaze turned from Peter to Sirius, again, too, suspicion rising in him. What, then, did this
mean about Sirius’ relationship with Marlene the previous year? Had they been pretending? But
then—

“Well, Marley likes blokes and girls,” James explained patiently to Peter. “She told me that it’s
called being bisexual. So you can fancy both.” Out of the corner of his eye, Remus thought he saw
Sirius give James an almost amused glance, but the expression was wiped clean from Sirius’ face
as soon as Remus looked directly at him.

“So you and Marley really were shagging last year, yeah?” Peter asked, directing his words to
Sirius again. Sirius rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Wormtail, we really were shagging.” It was a mark of how seriously James took his duty to
explain the situation that he didn’t grimace in disgust.

“And Dorcas?” Peter asked, looking back at James. “Is she also, uh, bisexual—did you say?”

“Nah,” James said, shaking his head. “She only fancies girls. She’s a lesbian.”

“Merlin,” Peter said, shaking his head as if trying to make the information settle in his brain. “I
fancied her for so long in third year. If only I’d known.” Remus couldn’t help but smile this time,
and he caught Sirius’ eye, mostly out of habit, as Sirius shot him an incredulous look.

“This isn’t about you, Wormy,” Sirius said, looking back at Peter and rolling his eyes. “Even if she
fancied blokes, I doubt she would’ve fancied you, anyway.”

“Oi!” Peter exclaimed, glaring at Sirius. “You fancied her, too, I remember! In fifth!”

“What?” James demanded, turning to Sirius, looking a combination of shocked, hurt, and
protective. Remus was taken aback, too, as this was news to him as much as it was to James. Sirius
glared at Peter.

“That was in the fucking vault, Pete,” he said through gritted teeth. Peter just shrugged, a slightly
satisfied expression on his face now.

“Karma’s a bitch.”

“Okay, well,” James said, turning away from Sirius, his expression still slightly affronted. “To
answer your earlier question, Wormtail, they got together a few weeks ago.”

“Oh,” Peter said, looking thoughtful. “After the Quidditch match?”

“Yeah, then,” James said, a dark look crossing his face, clearly thinking about Lily again. “Are we
all good?”

“Yeah, sure,” Peter said, unwrapping a chocolate bar that’d lain forgotten in his hands from before
the beginning of the conversation, having thoroughly processed his shock and clearly deciding to
move on. Remus marveled at how quickly the other boy had managed to accept the situation,
treating it like no more than an unexpected piece of gossip, rather than something many people
would choose to cut ties over. It was comforting, if a little perplexing.

“Moony?” James asked, looking towards Remus. Sirius and Peter looked at him, too, and Remus
realized he'd said nothing for the entire conversation.

“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat and looking back at James, still feeling slightly shell-shocked
but trying to hide it. “Yeah, I’m—I’m all good. Uh…” He tried to search around for anything else
to say. “Are they—is it a secret?”

“All of the other girls in their dorm know,” James said. “But that’s it for now. So yeah, it’s private.
Don’t go gossiping about it, okay, Pete?” He gave Peter a pointed look, and the small boy looked
affronted as he chewed his mouthful of chocolate and swallowed.

“Why are you looking at me?”

“Because you’ve got a big mouth,” Sirius cut in. Peter flipped him the bird before occupying
himself with wrapping up the chocolate bar and returning it to his bedside table. James looked to
Remus and Remus gave him a nod.

“Great,” James said, clapping his hands together again. “Mischief managed.”

“You’re such a fucking dork, Prongs,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes at his best friend.

Still, Remus thought he'd seen something in Sirius’ expression shift throughout the conversation.
His shoulders had relaxed and the smile on his face seemed more genuine than it'd been earlier. He
was watching to see how we’d react, Remus thought, feeling even more disconnected from reality
at the idea. And that look he'd given James when James had been explaining to Peter what being
bisexual was—did that mean that he found the humor in James explaining concepts that he already
knew, perhaps from first-hand experience? Was Sirius bisexual, like Marlene?

Needless to say, this conversation had only escalated Remus’ crisis further. Now, he was hiding in
the library, as he realized he did with a much greater frequency than any mentally stable person
could claim. What had Sirius called it in their fourth year? The ‘Remus disappearing thing?’ Not
very eloquent, but perhaps it was an apt description, after all. Well, Remus had decided to lean into
it these days. There was so much going on in his mind, he needed the quiet of the library to even
begin to sort through it. The solitude of the place helped, too, because if Remus knew anything, he
knew that he couldn't even begin to marshal his thoughts while Sirius was around.

Remus couldn’t stop replaying what’d happened the night after the first Quidditch game of the
season, more than two weeks before. No matter how often the scene played behind his eyes,
however, he still couldn’t make sense of it.

These were the facts as Remus understood them: Sirius had kissed him. He’d done it while he was
drunk and then fallen asleep afterward. The next morning, he’d said nothing about it to Remus, and
not indicated in word or action that anything had happened between them. Two and a half weeks
later, this hadn't changed. Remus wondered if he should take a leaf out of James’ book and confront
Sirius, but he didn’t. Sometimes, he wondered whether he'd dreamed the whole thing up, but he
knew that wasn’t true. It was too vivid to be a dream, and anyway, he hadn’t been drunk enough to
confuse fantasy with reality that night.

No, it'd happened, but Sirius had either forgotten, or he wanted to pretend that he had because he
was ashamed. Sometimes, Remus even wondered whether Sirius had thought that Remus had been
someone else when he kissed him. The thought hurt more than Remus wanted it to.

Remus would be lying if he said he'd never given much thought to his own attractiveness before.
He lived with James and Sirius, after all, who’d always been the objects of attention for many girls
at Hogwarts, and sometimes, Remus was bound to wonder how he stacked up. Still, his constant,
overwhelming awareness of his own body had rarely had to do with this question in the past. No,
it'd always been more about the fact that he never really felt like his limbs fit together in the right
way. He was awkward and gangly, and had a propensity for bumping into things because he was
rarely fully aware of where his body was in space.

Sometimes when he looked in the mirror, Remus felt like his facial features didn’t quite fit together
right, either. When he'd been younger, his blue eyes, framed with thick lashes, had been over-large
in his thin face, but even now, sometimes they looked strange to him. His light brown, wavy hair
fell into his eyes more often these days, telling him that he soon needed a haircut. Then, of course,
there were the scars that littered his body, which only enhanced his impression of being a
Frankenstein-like patchwork of a person. All in all, Remus’ attractiveness had been the least of his
worries. Until now, that was.

Over the course of the past two weeks, Remus had become very self-conscious in a different way
than usual. Every time he looked in the mirror, he searched madly for something in his appearance
that could've brought that look of awe over Sirius’ face that night. Sirius’ words sounded again in
Remus’ ears: I know what I want now. Had he meant that he wanted Remus? If so, what in the
world had made Sirius decide that Remus was a person worthy of that kind of desire? Remus
looked for an answer in his appearance but couldn’t find any that satisfied him.

Every day, he tried to push the problem out of his mind, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t stop thinking
about it; it felt like that night was on constant replay in his brain and he couldn’t turn it off. He was
distracted in lessons, failed to listen during conversations, and bumped into things even more than
usual. The kiss seemed to be seared into his mind like a tattoo on the back of his eyelids, or a
constant imprint on his lips.

What also bothered him was how unexpected it all was. He’d always thought he knew Sirius,
thought he could read him like the back of his hand, even when he frustrated and irked him. This
had been entirely unexpected, however. It'd caught Remus off guard, thrown him, and he was still
trying to get to his feet. It was Sirius who he was trying to puzzle the pieces together about, match
up the correct answers as if on a test. As for Remus, himself, the matter was simpler, though not
entirely easier to confront.

The problem was that Remus spent a good deal more time and effort not thinking about important
things than thinking about them. He'd stowed away many things into a corner of his mind over the
years and curtained them off, refusing to dwell on them. This was how Remus ended up with many
things that he was technically—but not fully—aware of, because he'd never allowed himself to
really think about them.

Of course he’d realized that, while the other boys in his dorm were off fancying girls, dating them,
snogging them, and whatever else, Remus had always been left behind. His constant excuse, to
himself and to them, was that he had no time for such things. He was too busy with schoolwork,
prefect duties, and keeping the secret of his transformation from the Hogwarts rumor mill. Even if
he had the inclination to date girls, Remus reasoned, he'd never be able to have a meaningful
relationship while hiding the secret of his condition from someone, so what was the point? Deep
down, however, in that corner of his mind where everything he'd deemed better off forgotten lived,
he knew that that wasn’t the truth.
Remus thought he'd known what he felt about Sirius for years, though he wasn’t clear on the exact
start date. There had been moments, over the years that’d struck him. Third year, when his mind
had gone blank when Sirius had taken his shirt off to reveal his scars, and later, when he'd felt a
pang of jealousy when Sirius had kissed Marlene and Dorcas in their game of Spin the Bottle.
Fourth year, when Sirius had fallen on top of him, laughing, in Charms, and their faces had been
only a few inches apart for just a moment. Fifth year, when Sirius had arrived on the Hogwarts
Express after growing a few inches over the summer, and the heat had refused to leave Remus’
face for the whole train ride. And, most prominently, sixth year, when he'd had to watch Sirius and
Marlene disappear together day after day and deal with the painful pit in his stomach that only grew
each time. Of course Remus had noticed these things. And, in that small part of his mind, he'd
always known exactly what they meant.

Still, he'd filed them away. At each occurrence, there was only a slight ‘oh’ of recognition that
went off in his mind before he pushed the feeling down firmly, refusing to let it reach his thoughts
any more than this. Remus knew the reason he did this: because he'd known instinctually, even
before the thoughts reached his conscious mind, that there was no point in them. What was the use
in even thinking about how he felt about Sirius? It could never, would never, happen between
them. Even if some unconscious part of him couldn’t help where his mind drifted, Remus couldn’t
let himself really want Sirius. To think about it was to admit that he really did want him, which was
more than a reflex, more than an unconscious reaction.

Unfortunately, many of the things that Remus had refused to think about up until two weeks before
had rudely decided to cram themselves into his brain all at once with no apparent intention of
leaving anytime soon. Remus thought he should soon grow tired of seeing Sirius’ face flash behind
his eyes, even when he wasn’t there, fixing Remus with that look of awe that he'd given him that
night before kissing him, but it never got old. The look wove through his dreams sometimes, too,
along with the kiss, which would often go much further in Remus’ nighttime imaginations than
what’d actually happened that night. Still, the Sirius who’d given him that look was very different
from the Sirius who sat near him in classes and at mealtimes, the one who joked and laughed with
James and Peter. Remus couldn't recall any expression even close to that look of awe crossing
Sirius’ face in daylight before as he looked at Remus. He felt as if there were two people: the Sirius
he'd known for six years and the Sirius from that night. The trouble was, both versions were
haunting him.

Remus had been so good at turning his thoughts off, all these years, so good at pushing his feelings
down but now, he seemed to have lost the talent completely. Whereas the ‘oh’ moments had
happened infrequently before, they were now constant. Remus was continually aware of the
experience of having Sirius near him, and this wasn’t helped by the fact that Sirius was, as ever, a
very touchy-feely person. A casual slap on the back, a friendly hug, or even a glance from Sirius
would send Remus into a deeper whirlwind of emotion than he’d already been experiencing. Given
the multitudes of thoughts constantly streaming through Remus’ mind at the moment, he was
beginning to wonder whether he was going slowly insane.

Thus, the library. Thus, the ‘Remus disappearing thing.’ But still, he couldn't avoid Sirius. His
efforts were always futile; Remus knew this from all the times over the years he'd tried to evade the
other boy. Sirius was always there, even when he wasn’t around. Therefore, Remus couldn't escape
what now felt like his inevitable spiral into insanity.

The only times Remus seemed to get relief were the moments when he stopped fighting and ceased
thinking about anything, any questions or confusions or worries, and just dwelled on how
impossibly beautiful Sirius had looked that night, both before and after he'd kissed him. Of course,
this was another thing that Remus had always known, but never allowed himself to dwell on, and
now, dwelling on it felt like a gift. The look of awe on Sirius’ face when he'd looked at Remus
before…the small smile on Sirius’ lips, eyes still closed, afterward…and the words he'd whispered,
soft and terribly intimate: I know what I want now. Just by themselves, the memory of the way
Sirius had said those words could light a fire inside of Remus, as if the texture of Sirius’ voice on
the syllables was, in itself, a caress. When Remus allowed himself to sink into the memory and let
the commentary in his mind go quiet, he stopped feeling as if he was going crazy, and it just felt
right.

Remus wasn't someone who allowed himself to just be very often, however, and these moments
never lasted long. He also felt somewhat ashamed of himself whenever he did this, as if dwelling
on the memory in private moments meant that he was taking advantage of something that didn’t
belong to him, or made him somehow perverse. He didn’t want to be a hopeless fool, clinging to
memories like scraps because they were all he’d get. Then, he reminded himself that Sirius had,
after all, kissed him. That meant that likely, he wasn't the only hopeless fool, and anyway, he had
every right to dwell on the memory, as it was his to dwell on.

Remus sighed, burying his face deeper into the book he was reading and trying to push thoughts of
Sirius out of his overcrowded mind. Just then, a noise made him look up, and he watched as Lily
passed by the gap in the bookshelves near where he'd been hiding. Following her with his eyes, he
saw her sit down at a table through the stacks and take her study materials out. She hadn’t seen
him.

A wave of conflicting emotion came over Remus as he watched Lily through the shelves. Over the
past two weeks, her voice had sometimes echoed in his head, saying, as she had the previous year:
You know, I always wondered about you two… Remus groaned quietly, shutting his book and
placing it on the table in front of him, then putting his face in his hands.

“Am I really going to do this?” he asked himself, pressing his fingers over his closed eyelids and
making little stars pop into his vision. He waited a moment, not moving, then, as if on command,
he lifted his head, removing his hands from his face, and stood up. He had to wait for a few
seconds for his vision to clear, but then he quickly stowed his books in his bag, exited his hiding
spot, and walked over to where Lily was sitting.

She looked up at his approach and smiled, though he noted that she had dark circles under her eyes,
and looked worn. “Remus, hi,” she greeted him. “Do you want to join me?”

Remus stopped in front of her table and took a deep breath. “Lily, can we talk?” Lily gave him a
searching look, no doubt taking in his rather harried appearance and unusually messy hair, from all
the times he'd run his fingers through it in frustration over the past few hours.

Lily nodded and stood, beginning to put her notebook and books back into her bag. “Come on,” she
said once she'd finished, slinging the bag over her shoulder. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Neither Remus nor Lily spoke as they left the library, then headed to the front of the castle,
pushing the double doors open. Remus took a deep breath, the clear afternoon air calming him
slightly. As they approached the spot on the bank of the Great Lake where, during the previous
year, all the Gryffindors in their year had laid out to enjoy the end of exams, their walking pace
slowed, and they turned to begin to circle the lake. The grounds seemed completely deserted but
for the two of them.

“This isn’t about James, is it?” Lily asked finally, speaking into the silence and looking sideways
at Remus.

“No,” Remus replied, glancing back at her for a moment and catching her bright green eyes before
looking ahead of him again. “No, this is about me.” The force of the thoughts which seemed to be
pounding their fists against the inside of Remus’ head was unbearable, but he hoped that maybe if
he spoke to Lily about it, it might ease them.

Lily didn’t break the silence; she waited for him to do it. It took Remus much too long to do so, but
eventually, he spoke up. “Do you remember what you said to me near the end of last term, when
we were patrolling?”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Lily said, the trace of a smile in her voice. “We’ve patrolled
together quite a lot.”

“I mean...the thing about Sirius and me.” Remus’ heart was beating frantically in his chest as he
said it. “You said you always wondered about us. Our...relationship.”

“Oh,” Lily replied, pausing for a moment. Remus chanced a glance at her expression, which was
hard to read. “What about it?”

“I—I know that when you said it I dismissed it, but I just wanted to know—what made you think
it? That Sirius and I were...I mean—” Remus broke off, flushing.

Lily stopped walking and turned to him, her gaze trained on his face, and Remus knew that she
must be bursting with curiosity about why he was asking now, but she didn’t question him. Instead,
she just studied him for a moment before walking over to sit on a patch of grass below a small
birch tree. Remus sat down across from her, watching her face as he waited for her response. Lily
looked down at the ground, beginning to play with the grass around her, and only looked back at
Remus after a few moments.

“You’re sure you want to know?” she asked, raising her eyebrows slightly at him, her gaze
searching, analytical.

“I want to know,” he replied firmly, though privately he wondered if he was ready for whatever
information she was about to tell him. Lily gave him a long look, then sighed.

“Okay,” she said, clasping her hands in her lap as if she was about to embark upon a story. She
thought for a moment, as if she was trying to figure out how to express what she knew in the best
way possible. Then, she focused back on Remus’ face and began to talk. “I’ve always sort of
thought that your relationship seemed a bit strange. I mean, don’t get me wrong, all of you
Marauders are a bit strange in how you talk to each other, but you two stand out. How you interact
with James and Peter, and how Sirius interacts with them makes sense, it’s predictable. But you
and Sirius...”

Lily paused, looking away from Remus across the lake, then, seemingly lost in thought. Remus
marveled briefly at the extent to which Lily had observed them all, despite her apparent dislike of
Sirius and James up until at least the end of fifth year. She began to speak again, but instead of
meeting his eyes this time, she continued to stare across the lake.

“You two have always seemed like your relationship was further apart than the rest of the group,
even though it’s James and Sirius who are best friends, almost brothers. Still, you’re the only one
in the group who seems to always be able to talk Sirius down when he gets some hare-brained idea
in his head or hold him back when he gets into a fight. And even when Sirius is at his worst,
making the stupidest decisions or driving everyone else up a tree, you always seem to see the best
in him, and you’ll forgive him anything. It’s like you understand him in a way that no one else
quite can. I’ve seen the way you two communicate, and it’s bizarre. It’s like you can tell what he’s
thinking before he even says it out loud, and vice versa.”
Lily glanced over at him before taking a deep breath and continuing, as if steeling herself for his
reaction to what she was about to say next. “I started to really suspect at the end of fifth, after what
happened with Severus. I confronted Sirius about it, and the way he looked when he talked about
you was something I’d never seen before in him. He looked so broken when he said he didn’t think
you’d ever forgive him. And yes, I know you’re close, but it just seemed different.”

She paused, looking at Remus, but Remus had turned his gaze away from her, looking out across
the lake. He hadn’t known that Lily and Sirius had spoken about what’d happened in their fifth
year. Still, he remembered the pain in Sirius’ voice when he'd apologized to Remus, the desperate
relief in his eyes when Remus had told him that they could still be friends. Even more, Remus
remembered the physical ache he'd felt at being apart from Sirius during those horrible weeks.

Lily continued. “On top of that, I—I see the way the two of you look at each other when you think
no one’s watching. You’re always glancing at each other, much more than anyone else. And then
last year, I’d see the look on your face when he'd go off with Marlene. You looked so sad, and
sometimes really ticked off, but mostly just resigned and sad. And you told me yourself that you
two had been distant that year, so I thought it might have something to do with him and Marley.”

There was a long silence after Lily’s words as Remus stared into the trees of the Forbidden Forest,
digesting what he'd heard as he spun a blade of grass between his fingers. He felt Lily’s gaze on
him but didn’t feel up to meeting her eyes just yet. He felt a slight pressure behind his own and
realized that he was holding back tears. Her speech had captured everything he'd ever noticed,
himself, but refused to put into words. It should be unnerving, really, how Lily had deduced all of
this from just observing them in passing, but instead, it felt rather comforting, like stepping into a
ray of sunlight after a long time in the dark.

“You thought we were together, then?” Remus asked finally, when the threat of tears had
dissipated. “Before him and Marlene?”

“Yeah, I wondered,” Lily admitted. “But I thought it might also just be...well, something unspoken
between the two of you.”

Remus slowly, finally, looked back at her. “We weren’t together,” he said. “And I never told him
—well,” he broke off, running a nervous hand through his hair and sighing tiredly. “I barely even
told myself.”

“That you fancy him?” Lily asked gently. Remus flushed deep red, hesitated, then gave a small,
almost imperceptible nod of his head.

“I suppose,” he said sheepishly. “If you want to call it that.”

“What do you call it?”

“Nothing,” Remus said, swallowing and glancing at her, his cheeks still red, a terrible sadness
washing through him. “I haven’t called it anything for as long as it’s been around, because then I’d
have to think about it, and face it.”

“Oh, Remus,” Lily said sympathetically, reaching out her hand to place it over his.

“I suppose you’ve heard this before?” Remus asked, trying for a wry smile. “Marlene and Dorcas,
right?”

Lily smiled, affection filling her expression, and nodded. “They both came out to me separately
before they got together,” she told him. Remus sniffed quietly and grinned.
“Lily Evans, designated emotional support friend for closeted gay teenagers,” he joked, though his
voice shook slightly when he said the word ‘gay,’ and his eyes flicked away from her and back
again, not quite able to hold her gaze as he said it. “You should put out advertisements.” Lily let
out a small, surprised laugh.

“I suppose that’s what I am,” she said, squeezing his hand gently. “I don’t really know why, but
I’m honored to be chosen, anyway.”

“It’s because you’re observant,” Remus said. “Maybe we all just knew that you’d already seen it in
us, and because you hadn’t abandoned us for it yet, we could tell you about it.” His voice broke
slightly as he said it, and Lily didn’t let go of his hand.

“You know,” she said thoughtfully. “What you said about not facing it, it sounded a lot like what
Dorcas said to me a couple of weeks ago.”

“Yeah?” Remus asked, blinking up at the sky, trying to prevent the tears forming in his eyes from
falling, then looking back down at her.

“Yeah,” Lily said. “I’d known about her feelings for Marlene for a long while, and she knew that I
knew, but she couldn’t bring herself to talk to me about it. When Marlene told Dorcas that she was
in love with her, it was the first time Dorcas actually told me out loud, and she'd never told anyone
else, not for all those years she'd known. She said she’d thought that she'd go her whole life never
telling anyone, that she never thought she'd get to be loved in that way by anyone, and that she had
to just accept it.”

Remus couldn’t stop the tears anymore; they were streaming silently down his face, and he didn’t
look at Lily. “But she was wrong,” Lily pressed on, leaning towards Remus and squeezing his hand
again. “Now she has Marlene, and she’s telling people. It’s scary for her, I know it is, but I think
it’s also a relief. She felt so alone for so long.”

Remus gave a small nod, using his free hand to wipe the tears away from his face even as they
continued to fall, not able to say anything at the moment. “Remus,” Lily said softly. “I think he
fancies you, too, you know.”

Remus looked back at her again, examining her expression, which was earnest, green eyes meeting
his blue ones. He gave a little shrug. “He kissed me that night after the Quidditch match at the
beginning of the month,” he mumbled, looking down, unable to meet her eyes as he admitted it.

“What?” Lily asked, and when Remus looked back at her, her eyes were wide with surprise, but her
lips were curving into a smile. “What happened?”

Remus flushed. “I helped him to bed that night when the party was over, and he said something
strange, and then he kissed me. Right after, he fell asleep, and he hasn’t mentioned it since. I don’t
know if he remembers. He was really sloshed that night.”

Lily took a deep breath in and released it in a long, contemplative sigh. She narrowed her eyes and
asked: “What did he say? Before he kissed you, I mean?”

Remus’ cheeks grew still warmer at the question. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to tell her.
Sirius’ words, though he himself couldn’t parse much meaning from them, still felt deeply intimate
and personal to him, especially given the way he’d been dwelling on them during the past weeks.
He told her anyway.

“‘I know what I want now,’” he replied simply. “That’s all he said.”
Lily didn’t speak, but Remus could see the cogs whirring in her mind. He pressed on. “Since then, I
feel as if I’ve been going absolutely insane, Lily. Everything I refused to think about for years...it’s
been coming at me, all at once. It’s just so much—”

He broke off, the panicky feeling which had ebbed away as he'd been talking to Lily returning, as if
voicing it had invited it back in. Remus’ chest tightened, the act of breathing seeming more
difficult all of a sudden. Lily gave Remus a small, sad smile, then leaned forward and pulled him
into a hug. Her arms were warm and comforting, and her hair smelled vaguely of flowers.

“You’re not crazy, Remus,” she said quietly, head buried in his shoulder. “You’ll get through this.”

Remus wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but he knew that Lily’s presence, and her soft
arms around him, gave him something that he couldn’t have found on his own. For those moments,
it felt like her embrace was the only thing keeping his whole body from coming apart at the seams.
He wondered if she knew that this was the case, and that was why she continued to hold him. Over
time, Remus’ feeling of panic eased, his breathing became less labored, and he regained feeling in
his limbs, which he hadn’t even noticed had gone numb.

Slowly, he released her, and she leaned back, giving him another smile. “Thanks,” he said, voice
still choked.

“Of course.”

They both stayed silent for several more moments, Lily turning to look back over the expanse of
the lake towards the setting sun on the horizon as Remus mentally pieced himself back together.
When Remus looked back up at Lily, she turned to face him again.

“I think you should give yourself time and space to process all of this,” she said, her voice low and
calm. “But I also think that when you’re ready, talking to Sirius about it will help. Neither of us has
any way to know whether he remembers kissing you that night or not, but either way, he still did it,
and I really think it meant something. If you could see the way he looks at you when you’re not
looking, you’d see it, too.”

Remus nodded, and miraculously, found himself smiling. “It’d be nice if he'd do it when I’m
looking at him, now and again,” he joked wryly. “Might be helpful. And not getting blackout drunk
and mumbling nonsense, that might’ve been helpful, too.”

Lily began to laugh, and then they were both laughing, and Remus realized that it was the most
lighthearted thing he'd done in weeks. “He’s an idiot,” Lily conceded through her giggles. “But I
think we’re all a bit idiotic when it comes to this sort of stuff. No matter how many books you read
or exams you get an ‘O’ in, when the heart gets involved, we all just turn into bumbling fools.”

“Oh, yeah?” Remus said, giving her a curious sidelong look. She gave him a slightly amused,
slightly sad, little smile.

“Yeah, me too,” she admitted. “I’m sure James told you all what happened with us.”

“He did,” Remus admitted. “What’s going on there?”

Lily sighed, looking out towards the last rays of sun visible beyond the treeline. “I don’t know,”
she admitted after a moment. She looked back at him. “I have a lot going on in my head that I have
to figure out, though not quite as much as you, I’d wager.”

Remus gave a small shrug, still looking at her, but she let out another long breath and smiled, more
cheerfully this time. “I don’t want to talk about me right now, anyway,” she said.
“Okay,” Remus replied, giving her a small smile in return. “You can keep your secrets, Lily.” She
smiled wider, clearly remembering the time that she'd said that same thing to him, the previous
year. Reaching up, she brushed away a lock of hair that had fallen into his eyes.

“You really should get your hair cut,” she remarked. “Soon you won’t be able to see a thing.”

“I know,” Remus said ruefully, reaching up to push his hair further out of his face. “It’s a hassle,
though.”

“Ask Dorcas if she’ll do it,” Lily suggested. “She’s been cutting all of our hair in our dormitory
since first year. She’s good.”

“Thanks. Maybe I will.”

“It might help, too,” she said tentatively. “To talk to her about stuff. Like I said, I think you’d be
able to relate to one another a lot, and that might be good for the both of you.”

Remus nodded, though he was still hesitant. “I’ll think about it, thanks, Lily.”

She smiled and nodded, and he knew she’d never force the issue. Remus checked his watch,
suddenly, fully registering the dim light cast over the grounds by the setting sun for the first time.

“We should probably go,” he said. “Dinner just started, and we shouldn’t be out after dark.”

“Oh, shit, yeah,” Lily said, leaping to her feet and brushing grass off her skirt and stockings, clearly
not having registered the lateness of the hour, either. Remus stood as well, and they set off together
towards the lights shining in the Great Hall of the castle. As they reached the oak front doors,
Remus turned to Lily.

“Thank you, Lily, so much. I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you for...well, everything,” he
said, looking at her seriously. She simply smiled at him.

“What are friends for?” They hugged again, Remus tall enough to rest his head on top of Lily’s and
getting a whiff of the slight scent of flowers once more. After they released one another, Remus
was struck with a sudden panic as Lily moved to walk through the doors.

“Wait—I don’t look like I’ve been crying, do I?” he asked. Lily smiled at him and lit her wand
swiftly, peering into his face.

“Not one bit,” she declared, grinning as she extinguished it. Remus grinned back at her rather
bashfully and then walked into the entrance hall on her heels. They entered the Great Hall together,
walked down to the Gryffindor table, and while Lily turned to sit next to Mary, Remus moved a
few yards further down the table to sit beside Peter, across from James and Sirius.

“Where’ve you been?” Remus heard Mary ask Lily. Lily glanced quickly at Remus before looking
away.

“Just studying in the library with Remus,” she replied, grabbing a plate of food and placing it in
front of her. “Lost track of the time.”

Remus looked down at his own plate, a small smile on his face. He knew he could trust Lily.
Remus hadn’t even felt the need to ask her to keep anything that had gone between them that
afternoon a secret, as he knew she would, with or without him asking. That was one of the
wonderful things about Lily Evans: she seemed to know exactly what people needed, and her
compassion was unmatched by any other person he knew, though James was a close contender.
Looking up across the table, he met Sirius’ grey gaze, which had been on him from the moment
he’d sat down, and smiled. At some point, once his mind was a safer place to be in again, Remus
would talk to Sirius, but not just now. Instead, he began to pile food onto his plate, as his appetite,
which had been all but absent in the past few weeks, came back with a vengeance. Looking around
the hall, he felt extremely grateful all of a sudden for everything and everyone he had. He wasn’t
sure what else in his life would change in the next hours, weeks, or months, but at this moment he
felt more himself than he had in years, and he intended to savor it.
 1977: Confessions
Chapter Notes

Sorry for the delay on this one, I took a trip this weekend so I didn’t have time to edit
and post. Anyway, as Oliver Wood/Fred and George Weasley would say: This is it,
the big one, the one we’ve all been waiting for. :) Enjoy!

cw: use of the word queer as a slur (directed to self)

Remus was acting oddly, that much Sirius knew, but that was where his knowledge stopped. At
first, Sirius had assumed that Remus was just in a mood, as he sometimes was for no apparent
reason. Then weeks passed, and a whole month, and Remus was still acting strange. Even on the
full moon at the end of November, Remus felt distant, not as part of the group as he usually was.

What was more, Sirius had noticed about a week into Remus’ strange mood that it was mostly him
that Remus was acting strangely towards, not James or Peter, or, as far as he could tell, anyone
else. Now, this wasn’t extremely unusual either, as Remus and Sirius had had more disagreements
than Remus had had with either James or Peter. What was unusual was that Sirius couldn’t
remember having an argument that marked the beginning of Remus’ avoidance of him. He'd
scanned his mind over and over again during the past couple of weeks but come up blank on the
topic of what he might’ve done to make Remus mad at him.

What was even more frustrating about the whole situation was that Sirius really wanted to talk to
Remus. After the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Quidditch game a month previously, Sirius had resolved
to tell the other boy about his feelings for him, and this prospect was made rather difficult by the
fact that Remus seemed to be hiding from him. Once or twice, Sirius wondered whether Remus had
suddenly become a very good Legilimens without telling the rest of them and already knew what
Sirius was feeling about him, and this was why he was avoiding Sirius. However, he thought that
this was unlikely.

The whole thing was very puzzling, and it was driving Sirius quite crazy, so much so that others
were beginning to notice. As Sirius sat staring at Remus from the other end of the Gryffindor table
at dinner one night, Marlene leaned over to him and followed his gaze, then sighed. She flicked her
wand, quickly casting a Muffliato charm around them so that none of the Gryffindors sitting near
them could listen in.

“Stop staring. It’s creepy,” she admonished, rolling her eyes at Sirius and shoving a forkful of
mashed potatoes into her mouth.

“I’m not staring,” Sirius retorted, not taking his eyes off Remus. Marlene swallowed and gave him
another incredulous look.

“Then what are you doing, exactly?”

“Observing,” Sirius responded dignifiedly.

“Creep,” Marlene said in a sing-songy voice.

“Take it up with Dee,” Sirius said, looking back at her with a desperate expression on his face. A
week prior, Dorcas had given Remus a haircut so that his hair no longer threatened to obscure his
vision every five seconds. The haircut did, however, threaten Sirius’ sanity, as Dorcas was clearly a
master at work, and Sirius thought Remus looked far too good to be allowed.

Marlene made a small, amused humming sound in her throat. “You like the hair?”

Sirius gave her an incredulous, slightly mad look. “Is that even a question?”

Marlene had to stifle a laugh and Sirius groaned, covering his face with his hands and looking at
her through his fingers. “Well, he’s hot,” Marlene said nonchalantly. “I believe you were aware of
this fact before.” Sirius groaned again and Marlene giggled. “I’ll tell Dorcas job well done, then?”

“Tell Dorcas she’s going to be the cause of my untimely demise,” Sirius responded, his voice
slightly muffled in his hands.

“Right, got it. Job well done.”

“Oi, stuff it,” Sirius said, removing his hands from his bright red face and kicking her under the
table.

“Seriously, though,” Marlene said. “Why haven’t you talked to him yet? You said you were going
to a month ago.”

Sirius squirmed under her gaze. “He’s been avoiding me, Marley,” he defended. “I don’t know
why!”

“Oh, come on,” Marlene said, rolling her eyes. “You know where he goes, and you have the map.
You could find him easily to talk to him. You’re still scared.”

“Yeah, so?” Sirius asked, a whine in his voice. Marlene shrugged.

“I’m just pointing out that you’ve already stated that you want to tell him, yes?” she asked. Sirius
nodded rather petulantly. “Well, from my own experience, once you decide you want to have a
conversation, it’s best to have it as quickly as possible, so you don’t spend too long agonizing. Just
my advice.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sirius said, groaning again. “It’s just—”

“Super fucking hard,” Marlene finished, nodding sympathetically. “But one way or another, once
you do it, it’s done. And if it goes well, Merlin knows you’ll be mad at yourself for waiting so
long. I know I am.”

“I suppose,” Sirius said grudgingly.

“Besides,” Marlene said, putting her fork down and pushing her empty plate away. “At this point,
I’m a bit sick of you whining to me about how in love with him you are. Go and tell Remus you
think he’s hot for a change.” Sirius gave her an annoyed look, and she laughed. “Don’t get your
wand in a knot, you said the same thing to me before I told Dorcas how I feel about her. But really
—” She stood, pulling her bag over her shoulder and giving him a smirk. “If you have to stun him
from behind and drag his lifeless body into the dungeons so you can talk, do it. It’ll mean I get to
spend more time snogging my girlfriend and less time listening to your agonizing.”

“That’s a swell idea, thanks, Marley,” Sirius replied sarcastically, and she gave him a wink and
departed, flicking her wand behind her to cease the Muffliato charm.
Sirius looked back over at Remus and caught a flash of his blue eyes for a moment before Remus
turned back to his food. Across from him, Lily seemed to be joking about something, as she had an
amused smile on her face as she talked to Remus. Sensing Sirius’ gaze, Lily looked over at him,
and Sirius looked quickly away. Quite apart from the fact that he was still angry at Lily for how
she'd treated James, he also didn’t want her to catch him staring at Remus. He had a shrewd
suspicion that she already knew of his feelings for Remus, but at the moment, he didn’t cherish the
idea of Lily Evans being the keeper of his secrets.

Just then, James slid into the seat across from him. His hair was windswept and slightly damp,
likely from the snow which was falling gently outside. “Went on a walk, did you?” Sirius asked,
raising his eyebrows at his best friend as James began to serve himself dinner. It wasn’t like James
to take a walk around the grounds so late.

“Yeah,” James said, his eyes drifting down the table briefly before returning to his plate. Sirius
sighed. He hadn’t needed to follow James’ gaze to see who he'd been looking at.

“How’s it with you two these days?” he asked, eyes trained on his best friend’s face. James gave a
noncommittal jerk of his head, taking a bite of food and chewing slowly. Looking up to find Sirius’
worried gaze on him after a moment, James swallowed and shrugged.

“It’s fine,” he replied. “We don’t really talk much, just when we need to. You don’t need to worry
about me, Sirius. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sirius said a little wryly, and James gave him a tired look.

“She’ll talk to me about it eventually, I suppose,” he said wearily. “Or she won’t, and we’ll just go
on like this until we graduate, and then we won’t see each other.”

“You’ll always see each other,” Sirius pointed out. “You have friends in common.”

James just shrugged again, turning back to his food. Sirius looked at him, at a loss for what to say
or do. He wasn’t used to seeing James like this. James was usually all sunshine and optimism. He
was the one who helped Sirius deal with his dark moods, not the other way around. Over the last
few weeks, however, Sirius found that he was quite bad at reciprocating the gesture, and Peter had
been picking up the slack.

“Where’s Wormtail?” Sirius asked, changing the subject. This did make James smile, and he
snorted out a slight laugh.

“He’s in detention with Slughorn, remember? For exploding his blood-replenishing potion
everywhere.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sirius replied, grinning at the memory, too. “Old Sluggy wasn't pleased.”

“Apparently he’s scrubbing the floors without magic,” James said, a slightly sympathetic look on
his face under the humor. “I just hope he won’t smell when he gets back to the dorm tonight.”

Sirius laughed. “If he does, he’s sleeping in the common room. It’s too cold to have the window
open.”

“Yeah,” James agreed, smiling. “That or we’ll just conjure a big air bubble around his bed so that
he has to sleep in his own stink and it won’t get to the rest of us. Mind you, it might be just you and
me who have to deal with him, if Moony falls asleep in the library again.”

“What?” Sirius asked, eyebrows furrowing. Against his will, his eyes flicked down to where
Remus was sitting with Lily again, then back to James.

“Oh, he didn’t tell you?” James asked, surprised. “Yeah, he accidentally fell asleep there last night.
It’s a miracle that Madam Pince didn’t find him and chuck him out if you ask me.”

“Yeah,” Sirius said, his eyes drifting back to Remus, who was getting up from the bench, swinging
his bag over his shoulder, and saying goodbye to Lily. Seeing Remus’ empty bed, Sirius had just
assumed that he'd gotten in late and gotten up early to avoid him, but no, Remus had actually slept
in the library. This was getting severely out of hand.

“Guess he’s going back there,” James said, following Sirius’ gaze to Remus’ retreating figure.
“Merlin, I don’t know how he finds such remote places to hide out in the library, that even Madam
Pince can’t find him.”

“Hide? What do you mean?” Sirius asked, his eyes back on James, a note of defensiveness in his
voice. James looked surprised.

“I just mean he doesn’t like to be bothered while he’s studying, does he?” James replied, his brow
furrowing as he examined Sirius closely. “Is something wrong, mate?”

“No,” Sirius replied a bit too quickly. “Everything’s fine.” He was so used to James being hyper-
aware of any rifts between his friends that he'd been sure his best friend had already known about
the distance between Remus and Sirius. Apparently, James had been too preoccupied with his own
troubles to pick up on it, however.

“Okay, if you’re sure,” James said, a note of disbelief in his voice. He turned back to the last bites
of food on his plate and swallowed them down quickly. “Well, I’m going to go back to the dorms.
Turn in early.”

“It’s a Friday night, mate!” Sirius said incredulously. “You’re really going to bed at this hour?”

James shrugged. “I’m pretty tired. Sorry.”

Sirius sighed and pushed himself back from the table, too. “It’s fine,” he told James. “I’ll find some
way to occupy myself.”

Sirius walked with James to the entrance hall, then watched him walk up the Grand Staircase. He
wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. Remus was in the library, James was going to bed, Peter was in
detention, and from what Marlene had said before she’d left, she was likely otherwise occupied,
too. Sighing again, Sirius looked towards the door to the Great Hall, where more and more students
were filtering out, on their way back to their dormitories for the night. Soon, the castle would be
nearly empty.

Sirius thought for a moment, then began to walk up the staircase, too. He'd gone up several floors
before he entered a deserted corridor, which was far away from any of the thoroughfares students
used to get back to their dormitories. Once the sounds of echoing footsteps faded, he changed into
the shaggy, black dog. He was warmer this way, and anyway, he sometimes liked exploring the
castle as a dog, provided there was no one else there to note his presence. Perhaps this would help
him stop thinking for a while.

Two hours later, Sirius found that while being a dog had indeed helped him stop thinking, after he
walked around the castle once, he ended up directly outside the library. Sirius transformed back
into his human form in a deserted alcove and swore quietly at his unconscious mind for bringing
him there. He hadn’t been paying attention to where he was going, but it seemed he'd had more
direction than he'd thought. Perhaps it was Remus’ scent that had drawn him here. If James knew
about any of this he'd probably say that Sirius was like a dog returning to his owner. James didn't
know, though. He was in the dormitory, probably laying awake in bed thinking about Lily, and
Sirius was here alone, trying to muster up the courage to talk to Remus.

Sirius stood and stared at the entrance for another moment, trying to figure out whether he should
enter, or leave and go back to the common room. Perhaps he'd find someone there to talk to.
Maybe Peter was out of detention by now. However, against every instinct in him screaming to
turn back, Sirius stepped inside the room instead, drawn forward to finish the journey that his
Animagus form had already begun.

Marlene had been right; Sirius knew, without even knowing how he knew, where Remus would be.
He headed straight to the back of the library, where the stacks were tall, and hid the little nooks
where students sat and worked from sight. Hidden in one of these corners was Remus, sitting at a
small table nestled between two shelves, and obscured from view by a third. Of course Remus
would find the one place which was completely hidden from all sides unless you were standing in
the sliver of space between two of the bookcases. Sirius stood in the gap for a moment, looking in
at Remus, whose head was bent over a book, and who hadn't yet realized Sirius was there. The
sight was so familiar that Sirius felt some of his anxiety fall away, a small smile playing across his
face as he watched.

Sirius cleared his throat quietly and Remus’ head snapped up. “Hey, Moony,” Sirius said, grinning
at him before sauntering in and taking a seat diagonal to him at the table. “What are you up to?”

Remus looked more shocked than the situation required, his mouth open slightly as he stared at
Sirius. “Uh,” he replied after a moment, still apparently taken aback by Sirius’ sudden appearance.
“Just reading.”

“For class, or for fun?” Sirius asked, reaching over, taking Remus’ book, and examining it. It was
about dragons.

“Class,” Remus said, plucking the book back out of Sirius’ hands.

“So you’re busy?” Sirius asked, a teasing note in his voice, looking at Remus. Remus met his eyes
briefly, then looked away again. It was hard to tell in the low lamplight of the library, but Sirius
thought that Remus might be blushing.

“Uh,” he said again hesitantly. “I don’t know, Padfoot, is it important?”

“Sort of,” Sirius said, the smile sliding off his face as he looked at Remus, his gaze earnest. It was
only then that Remus stopped fidgeting with his book and placed it down on the table, turning to
look Sirius in the eye. Sirius had been right: his cheeks were slightly pinker than usual, which only
enhanced the blue of his eyes, framed by thick lashes. Sirius swallowed, trying to regain focus.

“You’ve been, uh,” Sirius started lamely. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Remus looked at him for a long moment, his eyes unreadable. Finally, he said: “Yeah, I suppose I
have been.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows, taken aback. He was used to the song and dance he usually had to play
with Remus in these situations: the avoidance, the denial, and then the confrontation. Remus was
throwing a wrench in the system by admitting that he was avoiding Sirius flat out, and now Sirius
was unsure of what he was supposed to do next.
“Oh,” Sirius replied softly. He didn’t think he'd felt this awkward in a conversation maybe ever.
The closest he'd come was in the times he'd had to apologize to Remus in previous years, and for
some reason, this felt remarkably similar, though he didn’t think there was anything for him to
apologize for, this time. He hoped not.

“Uh, so, what’s that about?” Sirius asked finally, swallowing nervously.

Remus looked at him, his eyes searching Sirius’ face, and, after a moment, his face fell slightly, as
if he'd expected something of Sirius, and Sirius had failed to give it. Sirius wished with all his
might that he knew what it was, as he thought he might do anything for Remus at that moment to
just tell him what was going on in his head.

“I’ve been doing some thinking,” Remus responded finally.

“And you can’t do that when you’re around me?” Sirius asked, then felt a wave of embarrassment
pass over him as he realized how that sentence had sounded. He hastened to say something else to
pass over it. “I mean, we haven’t had a proper conversation in a month, Moony! Since—” He
thought back, straining for a moment to try and pinpoint the last time he'd been around Remus
without some strange, invisible tension humming in the air.

“The Quidditch game,” Remus finished for him. Sirius gaped at Remus as he felt his panic rise.
That had been the night when Sirius had done a great deal of his thinking about Remus, and what
he wanted from him. That night had also been when Sirius had resolved to have the conversation
that he was having now. Had Remus known that? Had he started avoiding Sirius because he'd
sensed this, and didn’t want to give him encouragement to admit his feelings?

“W—was that it?” Sirius asked, trying to steady his voice and suppress the blush rising in his
cheeks at the same time.

“What do you remember about that night?” Remus asked steadily, looking intently at Sirius.

“I—uh,” Sirius responded, confused and a little afraid. Suddenly, he felt like this conversation,
which he himself had meant to drive, was moving forward at a faster pace than he had control over,
and Remus was at the wheel. “Well, I was pretty smashed. Lots of drinking, games, Truth or Dare,
falling asleep on the ground…”

“Nothing else?” Remus asked, the same disappointed look from earlier settling over his features
again.

“I don’t know,” Sirius responded, feeling very confused now, and slightly defensive. Unless
Remus could suddenly perform Legilimency, there would be no reason he could know what Sirius
had been thinking about that night. “Is there something I should remember from that night?”

“Yeah,” Remus said, leaning back in his seat, running a hand through his hair—which was very
distracting—and gazing at Sirius. “Yeah, I suppose there is. Do you remember how you got up to
the dorm after you fell asleep on the floor?”

“Uh,” Sirius said, racking his brain. “No, I figured James brought me up.”

Remus shook his head, eyes still intent on Sirius’ face, his cheeks reddening still further. “It was
me,” he said. “I practically carried you up the stairs to our dorm, then I put you to bed. Before you
fell asleep, though, you—” Remus swallowed slightly, looking at Sirius, his cheeks very red, blue
eyes bright. Sirius stared back at him, filled with apprehension, not really sure if he wanted Remus
to continue, but at the same time, needing him to.
Remus let out a quiet breath, then finished: “You kissed me.”

Sirius gaped at Remus, his mind blank. “I—I—” he stammered, staring at the other boy’s face. “I
did?”

Remus nodded. “I figured you didn’t remember,” he said quietly. “And that’s why you didn’t
mention it later.”

Sirius closed his eyes, trying to think. His mind went back to that night, straining for details. After
several moments, he struck something, something impossible. The hazy picture floated before his
eyes: Remus’ face in the low light of the dorm in front of him, his smile, him turning away and
then being brought back, then the press of Sirius’ lips on his.

“I thought it was a dream,” Sirius said, his voice near a whisper. He let his eyes open slowly, and
looked back into Remus’ blue ones, whose pupils were slightly dilated. “I never imagined that
you’d ever kiss me back in real life.”

There it was. Sirius had said it finally, after all these months, years, even. He'd managed it, even if
he hadn’t said it in so many words, it was still there. Cards on the table. No going back.

Remus’ eyes widened, his lips parted slightly, and he stared across at Sirius. Sirius wished he could
lean forward and kiss those lips again, but he didn’t move. They stayed like that for a long time,
long enough for Sirius to realize what Remus’ words from before might mean: he'd been avoiding
Sirius since the party, since the kiss. Did that mean that he wanted Sirius to stay away from him,
now that it was in the open? Had Sirius just made a horrible mistake by baring his soul even more?
Or…?

“I never imagined you would ever kiss me in real life,” Remus replied quietly.

Sirius’ heart skipped a beat, he was sure of it, and for a moment, he just stared at Remus, in awe, in
absolute and total disbelief. Then his hand went out slowly, so as not to startle the boy staring at
him across the table, who now felt like a stranger, and yet so, so familiar. Sirius reached up slowly
to cup his jaw, letting his hand rest there. He was almost sure that he didn’t imagine Remus
shivering at his touch.

“Remus—“ he began, just as Remus said:

“Sirius, I—”

They both laughed nervously, then Sirius said: “Sorry, you go.”

Remus let out a shaky breath. “I’ve been going absolutely insane these past weeks,” he said, his
voice quavering, looking at Sirius. “Wondering if you remembered or not, if you wanted to forget,
if you thought that it was someone else there with you and not me...”

Sirius shook his head firmly, dropping his hand from Remus’ cheek to lay it over Remus’ hand on
the table. “There’s no one else,” he said. “And I wish I’d remembered sooner. I should've…
explained.”

“Maybe it was a good thing,” Remus said, his voice still slightly shaky. “It’s given me time to
think, to figure things out. Before that night, Sirius, I spent years refusing to think about how I felt
about you, and what it all meant. Thinking has helped. I had to do that on my own.”

“And how do you feel about me?” Sirius asked, his voice cracking slightly. Remus smiled a bit
sheepishly, and it lit up his whole face, which was still flushed.
“I fancy you,” he said. “I fancy you a whole fucking lot.”

“Thank Merlin,” Sirius said, letting out a sigh of relief, feeling like some big bubble of worry in his
chest had finally popped. “Because I’m so fucking in love with you, Remus Lupin.”

Remus’ eyes widened. “You—you are?”

“Of course I am,” Sirius said, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Don’t worry, though, you
don’t have to say it back yet. I’ve had a while to figure it out.”

“I think I’ve figured out parts of it,” Remus said, fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater nervously
and biting his lip. “Other parts, not so much. And I’m still working on the part where I say it out
loud.”

“I get that,” Sirius replied, the smile on his face still as brilliant as the sun. “Take all the time you
need.”

Remus smiled, and Sirius grinned back. They stayed like that for a moment, looking at each other
with eyes full of excitement, and still a few nerves. Sirius’ left hand was still placed over Remus’
right, and it was a few moments before Sirius got up the courage to speak again, trying to figure out
how to approach Remus, who was the same person, but completely different, too. The memory of
Remus’ lips against his was a wonderful haze in Sirius’ mind, but he wanted a clearer memory of
them.

“I feel like I should ask to kiss you this time,” he said softly. “Since I sort of jumped on you last
time.”

Remus smiled and stood up, crossed around the table, pulling Sirius up and cupping his face with
his hands. “I think it’s my turn,” he said, looking down at Sirius, and Sirius felt butterflies erupt in
his stomach as Remus leaned down and captured Sirius’ lips in his.

Sirius froze for a moment, not quite able to process the sensation and make his brain respond at the
same time because all that was going through his head was: Oh fuck, this is really happening. He
collected himself within a second, however, and pressed his body against Remus’, kissing back
enthusiastically, suddenly grateful for Remus’ choice of this secluded corner of the library.
Because of course he'd be kissing Remus in the library. It was Remus, after all. Sirius found it
oddly endearing. He'd never kissed Marlene in the library, and he was very glad of that fact
because he didn’t want to think of her just now. He wanted only to be thinking of Remus, and all
the books around them, and how funny and amazing and perfect it all was.

His hands went to Remus’ hair, as he'd been dreaming of for a long time, but especially over the
past week. Remus let out a slight noise of surprise into Sirius’ mouth, and Sirius smiled into the
kiss, the familiar smell of wool and bergamot surrounding him. This was Remus, who smelled like
bergamot and tasted a little like chocolate because of course he would, and whose hands had
moved to either side of Sirius’ hips and squeezed. His Remus.

Remus’ lips parted and he bit down lightly on Sirius’ bottom lip, whether on purpose or by
accident, Sirius didn’t know or care, as all he could think about was the sensation of their lips
sliding against one another, mouths parting, breaths mingling as they kissed. Sirius groaned into
Remus’ mouth, pressing closer to him until Remus’ back hit one of the bookshelves. They were
startled out of their reverie by the sound of several books crashing down on the other side of the
shelf.

“Shit,” Sirius said, though he couldn’t wipe the grin off of his face, his pulse still racing. “Pince
will be around soon, I suppose, to see who’s wrecking the library.” He looked up at Remus, who
was blushing now more than ever and trying to flatten his hair, which Sirius had thoroughly
mussed.

“Uh, yeah,” Remus said, clearly trying to hide the fact that he was incredibly flustered. “I guess we
should—?” He looked down at Sirius, caught Sirius’ satisfied smile, and rolled his eyes, his hands
falling to his sides. “Quit looking at me like that.”

“What?” Sirius asked teasingly. “I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re obnoxious,” Remus said. “Yes, I’m blushing because I was just snogging you, alright? I
don’t have a lot of experience in this area, after all.”

“I’m just enjoying the moment, Moony,” Sirius said. “You’re usually so difficult to ruffle. I like
this power I have now.”

“Oh, Christ,” Remus said, burying his still rosy face in his hands. “You’re unbearable. I can’t
believe I fancy you.”

Sirius just laughed, then nodded his head towards the entrance. “Let’s get out of here before we get
into trouble,” he said, and Remus, remembering himself, nodded quickly and began to gather up his
books, then hurried out of the library after Sirius. They spotted Pince on their way out, striding
angrily in the other direction, and Sirius stifled his laughter.

Once they were back out in the corridor, where Sirius couldn’t believe he'd been standing less than
half an hour ago, he looked over at Remus. “Dorm?” the other boy inquired, raising his eyebrows.

“Sure,” Sirius replied. “James is there, but he’ll either be sleeping or pretending to be asleep. We
can talk more if we cast a silencing spell.”

“Poor James,” Remus said sympathetically, but the smile crept back onto his face far too quickly,
and Sirius knew that Remus’ mind couldn't dwell too long on James’ plight at the moment. Sirius
shot him a grin and began to head towards the Grand Staircase, up towards the dormitory.

They didn’t speak much as they walked but the silence between them was comfortable, and every
now and then they'd glance at each other, smile, then look away, as if savoring their newfound
ability to stare at each other without worrying if the other would catch them. Sirius nearly tripped
several times on the stairs, busy as he was glancing at Remus every few seconds. When the back of
Remus’ hand brushed against his, Sirius had to force himself to resist the urge to grab it. He was
worried that if startled by any sudden movements such as this, Remus might run away from him
again.

Luckily, they made it up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower without this happening, and once Sirius
had given the Fat Lady the password and entered, he was relieved to find that no one currently
inside was in a position to give the pair knowing or teasing looks. In fact, none of their fellow
seventh years were there at all, and, after sending a quick greeting to Kingsley Shacklebolt, Sirius
hurried after Remus up to the boys’ dormitory.

The dorm was quiet when they entered. James’ hangings were drawn shut, but Peter’s were open,
and his bed was empty. Clearly, Slughorn wasn't yet satisfied with the state of the dungeon. As
they entered, Remus tripped over a book lying on the floor near the door and Sirius caught him,
trying to stifle his laughter. James’ curtains didn’t open, however, so either he hadn’t been woken
or he didn’t want to deal with their antics at the moment.
Still laughing quietly, Sirius smiled at Remus, then gave his head a little jerk towards his bed, and
Remus, smiling softly, followed him. Once the curtains were drawn, Sirius pulled out his wand and
cast a silencing spell. In the semi-darkness, they sat across from each other, and Sirius could still
make out the blue of Remus’ eyes, and his blush.

“Lumos,” Remus whispered, and a bright light went into Sirius’ eyes, causing him to wince, before
Remus dropped his wand to the bed, dimming it to a soft yellow glow through the covers, and
illuminating both their faces.

“So…” Sirius said lamely, looking across at Remus. Remus let out a slight, exasperated sigh. Sirius
smiled. He recognized that sound as one Remus sometimes made when he thought their prank
ideas were utterly stupid and poorly planned, right before he usually offered assistance to improve
them.

“Oh, come here,” Remus said, rolling his eyes, and he pulled Sirius towards him, one hand around
the nape of his neck, another cupping his cheek again. Sirius smiled into the kiss, reveling, once
again, in the fact that he could kiss Remus, now. All those hours of staring at Remus’ lips, and
now, they were pressed against his. Experimentally, it seemed, Remus opened his mouth slightly,
and his teeth grazed Sirius’ bottom lip, as they had in the library, an action that was rewarded with
Sirius’ intake of breath.

Sirius, feeling limited by their current positions, moved without giving it too much conscious
thought. He first scooted closer to Remus, kneeling in front of him so that Remus, for once, had to
tilt his chin up to kiss him. Remus broke the kiss, looking at Sirius questioningly as his face
hovered slightly above his, then his blue gaze turned heated as he held eye contact, clearly
registering what Sirius was doing. Sirius’ pulse quickened slightly, breath catching in his throat as
he looked down at Remus, suddenly a little overwhelmed by the proximity he’d created. He didn’t
back down, though, and instead held Remus’ gaze as he moved closer still, throwing a leg over
Remus’ lap and settling himself in so that he was straddling the other boy. Remus stared at him for
another moment, then a slight, half-smile stole across his lips, and he reached up again to cup
Sirius’ jaw, pulling him into another kiss.

Remus’ other hand moved to Sirius’ waist, pulling him so that their chests were pressed together,
and Sirius hummed in appreciation against Remus’ lips, savoring every bit of contact he could get.
He felt Remus smile, and his grip tightened slightly on Sirius’ jaw, his thumb making soft circles
on the skin there.

Sirius wondered as he ran his hands through Remus’ hair again whether Remus had snogged
anyone else since those long-gone days of Spin the Bottle in this very dormitory. Perhaps it was
just the fact that he’d been dreaming of this moment for years that it felt like every kiss they shared
was the best he’d ever had, but he still had a hard time believing that Remus had really never done
this before.

“How are you so good at this?” Sirius mumbled against Remus’ mouth after several long minutes,
his voice coming out a little breathier than he’d like to admit.

Remus pulled back and tilted his head, grinning at Sirius. “Am I?” he asked, a little surprise in his
voice despite his expression.

“Fuck, yes,” Sirius replied, tugging him back in for another deep kiss. Remus, no doubt taking a
cue from Sirius’ attention to Remus’ locks, moved the hand that wasn’t still holding Sirius’ waist
to the back of Sirius’ hair. His fingers slid up through the strands to his roots, then took gentle hold
of a fistful, tugging lightly. Sirius couldn’t help the blatant moan he let out at the sensation.
“Shit, Moony,” he said, breathing heavily as he drew back, looking at Remus with wide eyes. “You
know I actually meant it when I said we could talk more here? I wasn’t trying to take advantage of
you by inviting you into my bed.”

Remus laughed, and Sirius felt the vibrations of it through every point of contact he had with the
other boy’s body. “I know,” he reassured Sirius. “I’m just making up for lost time.”

Sirius huffed out a laugh. “Yeah,” he said, only a slight tinge of bitterness to his voice, which was
mostly filled with amusement. “We should've been doing this years ago.”

“Well,” Remus said, moving his hand up to brush away a lock of Sirius’ hair from his face. “We
can do it now.”

Sirius nodded, smiling, then shook his head again. “I still can’t believe...”

“I know,” Remus responded. Sirius moved off of Remus’ lap onto the bed beside him, lying down
on his side as Remus mirrored his position, both gazing across at each other from a more
respectable distance this time.

“So,” Sirius said, shifting to make himself more comfortable as he continued to look at Remus. “I
want to hear more. When did you realize?”

“That I fancied you?” Remus replied, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Sirius said. “Or—when did you realize you liked blokes? Whichever.”

Remus shrugged, a small smile playing across his lips. “I really couldn’t say,” he said.
“Consciously, I figured it out only a few weeks ago. Unconsciously, though...that’s another story.
Like I said, it’s been years. And there’ve been...moments. Mostly to do with you, if I’m honest.”

Sirius grinned. “I think I know what you mean,” he said. “I feel like I had so many moments over
the years where I registered something and just thought: well, that might not be normal.”

Remus nodded. “Yeah, stuff like that,” he said. “Sometimes it’s big, sometimes it’s small. The big
moments are when other people notice. Lily, for one.”

“Lily?” Sirius asked, perplexed, raising his eyebrows.

“She asked me last year whether there was anything going on between you and me,” Remus
admitted, flushing slightly.

“Really?” Sirius asked, surprised, and he actually let out a bark of laughter, his current annoyance
with the redhead ebbing for a moment. “I was wondering what she knew...all the looks she’s been
giving me lately.”

“Yeah, well,” Remus said. “She helped me figure the whole thing out a few weeks ago. Screw my
head back on right, you know. It’s like she always knew, always saw it. But especially last year…I
was a bit of a mess over you and Marlene, and Lily was no fool.”

Sirius was silent for a few moments, looking at Remus, who avoided his gaze. Then, he reached up
to put a hand on his cheek and smiled softly at him. His Remus. “I suppose it makes sense, now,”
he said slowly. “That fight you picked at the beginning of the year.”

“Yeah,” Remus said, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry about that. I was a prick.”
Sirius shrugged. “I get it,” he said. “Me and Marley, though...it meant nothing. It was just a
distraction for Marlene before she realized she wanted Dorcas, and for me to try and deny that I
wanted you. I thought...well, I thought that if I liked snogging her, I wouldn’t be...queer.”

The word felt dirty and foreign on his lips, and he regretted saying it when he felt Remus flinch.
Sirius’ hand shook slightly on Remus’ cheek, and he pulled it back. Remus, however, took his hand
and intertwined it with his own, looking Sirius in the eye again.

“When did you realize?” he asked softly. Sirius looked at him, trying to suppress the wave of sick
rising up in him as he remembered. He swallowed.

“You know what you said about the big moments? When other people realize?” Remus nodded,
and Sirius sighed. “Well, it wasn’t when I accepted it, obviously, but it was...well, it was an
important point on the timeline. Fifth year. April. Snape.”

Remus stared at Sirius. Sirius didn’t need to say much more. Remus knew what he was talking
about. “So,” Remus said, clearly trying to process the information. “So that was why—”

“No,” Sirius said, shaking his head quickly. “I mean, not entirely. I didn’t lie to you. He said all
those other things, but he also said something about you and me. Something disgusting, and
terrible, and also something that hit closer to home than I would’ve liked.”

“Ah,” Remus said. He'd frozen for a moment, but now he resumed his stroking of the back of
Sirius’ hand with his thumb, waiting for him to go on.

“Then, at the beginning of sixth,” Sirius continued, taking a deep breath. “I smelled you in the
Amortentia that Slughorn brought to class, and it was all a bit too much for me to handle. I mean, I
knew what it meant, but I didn’t want to know. So that’s why I sought out Marley.”

Remus seemed to contemplate this for another moment, still stroking the back of Sirius’ hand.
“What do I smell like?” he asked after a long pause. Sirius let out a surprised laugh.

“Like Earl Grey tea,” he replied. “And wool, from all your sweaters, I suppose. And you.” Remus
smiled, and Sirius stopped being afraid that he'd run away or get startled as Remus pulled him in
for a kiss. After another few blissful minutes, where Sirius savored the feel of Remus against him,
Remus drew back, a slight frown on his face, and Sirius knew that Remus couldn’t lose himself
until he'd gotten all of his questions answered.

“But you and Marlene,” Remus said. “You were—well, uh...I mean…”

“I was attracted to her,” Sirius confirmed, nodding. “I like girls, too. I mean, I didn’t fancy her, but
I have fancied other girls in the past. And I like blokes. Uh...you?”

“Oh,” Remus answered, looking a bit startled by the question. “Yeah, just blokes, I think. I’m gay.”

“Neat,” Sirius said, and it was Remus’ turn to laugh. They began to laugh together, awkwardness
dissolving.

“Anyway,” Sirius continued. “When Marley ended it, she told me I needed to figure out what I
really wanted. Then, she came out to me as bisexual over the summer, and it really struck a chord
with me, and all of a sudden I couldn’t get you off my mind all over again. I couldn’t ignore it that
time, and eventually, I got the courage to tell Marley about it, and it helped to talk about it with her.
Seeing her and Dee getting together helped me realize that I wasn’t content with just having
feelings for you and not doing anything about it, though. I realized I wanted that with you, too.”
“They got together after the Quidditch match,” Remus said, realization seeming to dawn upon him
as he gazed at Sirius. “And that was the night you kissed me.”

“Yeah,” Sirius confirmed, then rolled his eyes, annoyance surging through him for his own idiocy.
“And then, due to being completely pissed at the time, I thought it was all a dream. The whole you
avoiding me thing made it rather hard to talk to you about everything, even though I wanted to, a
lot, after I had that realization. I suppose all’s well that ends well, though.”

“I suppose,” Remus said, smirking and leaning forward to catch Sirius’ lips in his own again. They
kissed briefly this time, and Remus pulled back to smile at Sirius. “You remember what you said to
me before you kissed me that night?”

Sirius nodded. “I know what I want now,” he repeated back, the words echoing in his head, and he
met Remus’ eyes. Remus nodded, smiling softly.

“So do I,” Remus said. He was looking at Sirius with an expression on his face that Sirius wasn’t
sure he could survive. It was open and adoring. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Remus look like that
before: so without armor. The absolutely terrifying part was that Sirius knew there must be a
similar look on his face, and part of him wished he could close it back off, though it was
wonderful, too. Remus must have picked up on part of Sirius’ terror, as a look of concern came
over his face, and he tugged Sirius closer to him, moving onto his back and allowing Sirius to curl
up next to him, his head resting over Remus’ heart. The steady sound of its beating was
comforting, as was Remus’ warmth.

They didn’t speak for a long while. Once Sirius had calmed his breathing, he finally asked the
question that had been bothering him. “Where do we go from here?”

Remus was silent for a moment, his hand stroking over Sirius’ hair. “I think we should keep it to
ourselves for a little while,” he said finally. “Just until we adjust. It’s a lot, isn’t it? Trying to figure
out how to go from being friends to this.”

“Yeah,” Sirius said. He'd known Remus would say this but was relieved nonetheless. “Best to
figure out how to be with each other before we have to factor other people’s behavior into it.”

“Some people already know, though,” Remus pointed out. “I suppose we’ll just have to ask them
not to share.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sirius said. “Marlene and Lily.”

“And Dorcas,” Remus added. Sirius looked up at him, tilting his head slightly in confusion. Remus
smiled sheepishly.

“Lily said I should talk to her about all of it,” he said. “So I did, when she gave me the haircut. It
was a double feature.”

Sirius let out a startled laugh. “I guess that means I’ll get to thank her for giving you this haircut,”
he said, grinning and ruffling Remus’ hair.

“What?” Remus asked, furrowing his brow. Sirius laughed again.

“Oh, come on, Moony,” he said, rolling his eyes and giving him a pointed look. “It’s hot. You’re
hot.”

“No, I’m not!” Remus protested a little too loudly, blushing and ducking away from Sirius, who
was trying to mess up his hair again.
“Oh, come on,” Sirius whined. “I haven’t been able to tell you that you’re hot for years. Now that I
can, you’d better accept it!”

“Jesus Christ,” Remus muttered, blushing further and pushing Sirius away. “Okay, unhand me,
Padfoot. I’m hot. Happy?”

“Very,” Sirius said, smirking and settling onto Remus’ chest again, looking down at him. Then he
realized something and burst out laughing. “I guess this means that we each confided in one half of
Morcas, and now each of them is keeping the secret for us from each other.”

“Excuse me—Morcas?” Remus spluttered.

Sirius grinned. “What would you prefer me to call them? McMeadowes? Dorlene?”

“Maybe just call our friends by their names,” Remus said, laughing. “And yes, I suppose we can
tell them now that they can talk to each other about it if they want to.”

“Spoil my fun,” Sirius pouted.

“So…” Remus said, taking one of Sirius’ locks and twirling it around his finger, looking up at him.
“What are we telling them we are? Lily, Dorcas, and Marlene?”

“Oh,” Sirius said, startled. “I don’t know. What do you want to tell them?”

“I, uh,” Remus said, flushing again. “I guess we could tell them that we’re dating. We’re together.
Right?”

“Moony, if you’re going to ask me to be your boyfriend, you have to have the guts to say it out
loud,” Sirius said, a wide smile blooming on his face as he looked down at Remus from where he
was propped up on his chest. Remus rolled his eyes, but he was still blushing.

“Ugh,” he groaned. “Fine. Padfoot, will you be my boyfriend?” Sirius grinned and leaned down to
press another chaste kiss onto Remus’ mouth. When they broke apart, Sirius rolled off him, still
grinning.

“I suppose I will, since you asked so nicely,” he conceded arrogantly, to which Remus rolled on top
of him in retaliation, kissing him again fiercely as Sirius smiled against his lips.

After a while, exhaustion took over both of them, but once both boys had changed into pajamas and
brushed their teeth, Remus closed the curtains to his four-poster bed to make it appear that he was
inside, and climbed back into bed with Sirius. They didn’t have to talk about it, they just settled
back into each other’s arms.

Sirius knew they'd talk more later. It would take hours, days, maybe weeks to piece the whole story
together for one another, to recount all those times that they should’ve realized, but didn’t. He
wanted to hear about all the times that Remus had looked at him over the years in a way that had
scared and excited him, and he wanted to share his stories in return. They needed to figure out
together what all those fights, over so many years, had been about, because one or the other of
them had been jealous or angry or scared. Sirius needed to tell Remus about the day that he'd run
away from his parents, how he'd thought of Remus, and how this had given him the courage he’d
needed to leave. They had so much time, now, however, and at that moment, Sirius didn’t worry, as
he knew he'd get to say it all. Instead, he let himself drift off into a night of dreamless sleep. After
all, who needed dreams when the person who’d been featured in them for so many months was
finally next to him?
 1977: Cold Water
Chapter Notes

cw: homophobia

More detailed warning: This chapter depicts a scene of coming out to family which
may be upsetting to some readers. There is no violence, no slurs, and acceptance does
come eventually, but the rhetoric does depict homophobic/biphobic attitudes. Please
proceed with caution if you think this may be upsetting to you, and take care of
yourself <3

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“What if I jumped in?”

“What if you didn’t?”

On a Saturday afternoon a few days before they were set to return home for the winter holidays,
Dorcas and Marlene were to be found standing by the Great Lake, peering out across its frigid
depths. Snow blanketed the ground under their feet, and while the lake was too large to freeze over,
Marlene could tell just by looking at it that its contact would be icy. Dorcas gazed out across the
surface, a mischievous smile on her lips, as Marlene looked over at her, slightly alarmed.

“It’s freezing, Dorcas!”

“I don’t know, it looks quite nice to me,” Dorcas said, smiling up at her, her hand linked with
Marlene’s.

“Jesus Christ, Dee, it’s winter!” Marlene protested as Dorcas moved away from her, closer to the
edge, and began to strip off her coat, boots, and gloves. “You will get hypothermia!”

“If that’s the way I go…” Dorcas teased, looking behind her at Marlene. “Are you too scared to
join me?”

“Ugh,” Marlene groaned, watching Dorcas as she began to wade into the water. “I thought you’d
grown out of this! Every winter when we were younger, at the Potters’ pond—”

“And you’d always follow me,” Dorcas said, smiling as she waded further, up to her knees.

“And I’d always catch a cold for my trouble, while you’d be perfectly fine,” Marlene grumbled,
watching her girlfriend sink deeper into the water. Dorcas smiled, gave one last look behind her,
then dived forward into the lake. Marlene crossed her arms over her chest, rolling her eyes and
sighing. It was quite true that she’d always followed Dorcas when she’d done this when they’d
been younger, before the Potters’ pond froze over every year. Still, she was seventeen now, and
she could back down from a dare...probably.

Dorcas swam out until she shrunk to the size of Marlene’s hand, then turned around. Marlene could
see her cutting through the water as she headed back, and, as she approached, Marlene was both
exasperated and impressed to see that Dorcas was still smiling. When Dorcas finally reached the
bank, Marlene tugged her out of the water, rolling her eyes and making a big show of her
annoyance. She cast a drying charm on Dorcas’ sodden clothes, bundled her back up into her coat
and boots, and frogmarched her back to the castle. Dorcas’ teeth were chattering slightly but her
cheeks were flushed, her smile wide, and her eyes bright. Privately, Marlene thought that she
looked more beautiful than ever.

“Had fun?” Marlene asked, annoyance fighting affection in her voice. Dorcas beamed at her,
intertwining her fingers with Marlene’s once again.

“Always.”

Marlene couldn’t help but smile. “Isn’t this supposed to be your job?” she asked. “The whole
scolding, trying to convince your girlfriend not to participate in life-threatening activities thing?”

Dorcas grinned over at Marlene. “You don’t always get to have all the fun,” she teased. “Anyways,
that wasn’t life-threatening at all. I just fancied a swim.”

“Yeah,” Marlene replied, rolling her eyes. “Like that time you just fancied a swim when we were
hiking and you almost got swept off of a waterfall.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” Dorcas said, though she was giggling. “I would’ve been fine, the current
wasn’t that strong.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Marlene said, shaking her head and laughing. “One day I swear you’re going
to tell me you’re going away to live with the merpeople in the lake.”

“Would you come with me?” Dorcas asked, tugging on Marlene’s arm, her smile wide. “Learn
mermish, live in the lake?”

Marlene sighed, shaking her head in exasperation. “If you insisted, probably,” she said resignedly.
Dorcas smiled and stood on her tiptoes to press a kiss to Marlene’s cheek. Dorcas’ lips were still
cold, and the spot where they’d touched tingled slightly, making Marlene blush.

“You’re cute,” Dorcas said, smiling up at Marlene. Marlene just shook her head, trying to stop
blushing. As they entered the castle, Dorcas drew back from Marlene slightly, releasing her hand.
Marlene sighed, feeling the lack of Dorcas’ skin against hers, but followed her into the entrance
hall and up to Gryffindor Tower. Marlene knew that Dorcas couldn’t help it, and she knew that
announcing to the entire student population of Hogwarts that they were in a relationship was
possibly not the best idea anyway, but it didn’t stop her from wishing that they could just walk
through the corridors, hand in hand, and have everyone know.

When they arrived back in the common room, it was quite full, as everyone’s schoolwork was
minimal in the last few days before the holidays. Marlene noticed James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter
sitting by the fire, and the two girls made their way over to them.

James spotted them first, looking up from the game of chess he was playing with Peter, and
immediately narrowing his eyes at Dorcas. “Why is your hair wet?” he demanded, looking from
her to Marlene as they stopped in front of him. Dorcas grinned and glanced at Marlene, who
sighed.

“She took a swim,” Marlene told James, rolling her eyes at Dorcas, who was beaming at both her
and James.

“Merlin, Dorcas, in the lake?!” James demanded, not looking surprised, just exasperated.

“It was very nice,” Dorcas replied, smiling brightly at James, no doubt reveling in his disapproval.
James groaned and put his head in his hands.

“You swam in the Great Lake?” Peter asked, confused and horrified, looking from Dorcas to
James. “In December?”

“She does this kind of thing a lot,” James and Marlene both said at the same time, in the same
resigned, exasperated tone of voice. Dorcas just beamed.

“Anyway,” Dorcas chirped. “We’re still coming over to yours for Christmas dinner, right?” She
addressed her question to both James and Sirius, and Marlene smiled as she saw the pleased look
on Sirius’ face. Dorcas knew exactly what she was doing, and Marlene loved her for it.

“Yeah, that’s still the plan,” James said. “From what my dad said in his last letter, it seems like
he’s going all out. My parents are starting to get nostalgic, talking about how we’ll be finishing
Hogwarts and moving out soon. I tried to point out that I’ll be spending Christmases with them
either way, but apparently that doesn’t help.”

Marlene smiled. “Yeah, my mam and dad seem to be preparing themselves, too,” she said.
“Mostly, though, they just give each other dark looks whenever they talk about me living on my
own like they think I’ll blow up any flat I live in.”

“It’s definitely a possibility,” Sirius said, grinning at Marlene, who swatted him, rolling her eyes.

“Luckily,” Dorcas said, smiling teasingly at her girlfriend. “You’ll have me to prevent you from
blowing anything up.”

“You’ve talked about moving in together after Hogwarts?” Remus asked, looking up from his book
for the first time, as he’d appeared to be only half-listening to the conversation before. Marlene
hadn’t missed the fact that he was sitting slightly closer to Sirius than usual, his feet resting next to
Sirius’ legs on the couch. Sirius, apparently unnoticed by either James or Peter, had been playing
with a stray thread on the hem of Remus’ trousers for the past few minutes.

“Oh, yeah, that’s been the plan for years,” Marlene said, glancing at Dorcas. She realized, then,
that they hadn’t really talked about the implications of moving in together now that they were a
couple, rather than best friends. “Neither of us would be able to afford to rent a flat on our own, not
with Trainee Healer or Trainee Auror salaries, and anyway, why would we want to?”

Remus nodded, looking contemplative, and glanced quickly at Sirius before looking away again.
Marlene tried to conceal her smile. It was funny how well things had worked out for both her and
Sirius, better than either of them could’ve expected. She caught Sirius’ eye, and he gave her a
small, sheepish smile, flushing slightly and letting go of the thread at the end of Remus’ trousers.

“Are you going to go see your uncle’s old flat over the break?” Marlene asked Sirius. Sirius
nodded, rubbing his hands down his trouser legs absentmindedly.

“Yeah, I was planning on checking it out,” he said. “You’re both welcome to join if you want.
These tossers are all coming along for the ride.”

“I’d be curious to see it,” Dorcas said, looking at Marlene questioningly. Marlene nodded
enthusiastically.

“Definitely, I’d love to see it!”

“Okay,” Sirius said, twirling his wand carelessly between his fingers. “It’ll probably be after
Christmas.”
“Great,” Dorcas said, smiling. She turned to Marlene, raising her eyebrows slightly and jerking her
head towards the dormitory. Marlene gave her a smile, then turned back to the boys.

“See you later?”

“Sure,” James said, turning back to the chess game.

“Bye,” Sirius said, grinning at them. Peter waved and Remus nodded, turning back to his book.
Looking back briefly as she followed Dorcas towards the girls’ dormitory, Marlene saw that Sirius
had resumed playing with the hem of Remus’ trousers as he watched James’ and Peter’s game,
making a comment now and again. As she watched, she saw Remus look up at him over his book,
and Sirius, sensing his gaze, met his eyes for a brief moment, smiled, then looked away. Marlene
grinned at the sight before following Dorcas up the stairs.

The dormitory was empty when they arrived, and Dorcas immediately went over to her bed,
flinging herself down onto the pillows and sighing. Marlene crawled in after her, smiling at her
girlfriend as she leaned down to press a kiss to her lips. Dorcas smiled back up at her when they
broke contact, then tugged Marlene’s arm around her shoulder, burrowing into her sweater.
Marlene smiled and pulled her closer.

“It’s nice to see Remus and Sirius happy,” she said after a moment, pressing a kiss to Dorcas’ hair,
which was drying in frizzy curls. Clearly registering the state of her hair at the same time as
Marlene, Dorcas sat up and reached over to her bedside table to grab a hair tie, beginning to put her
hair up into a bun.

“It is,” Dorcas said, smiling as she fixed her hair. “I had no idea about any of it before Remus told
me, but I really see it now. Those two are good for each other.”

“I wonder when they’ll tell James and Peter,” Marlene mused.

“I’m honestly surprised Sirius has kept his feelings for Remus quiet from James for so long,”
Dorcas remarked, relaxing back again, her head resting on Marlene’s sternum.

“I’m not, really,” Marlene said, stroking her fingers across the soft, brown skin of Dorcas’ palm.
“I’d say Sirius has more to deal with than any of us in terms of accepting himself.”

Dorcas looked up at her, eyes searching. “Because of his family, you mean?”

“Yeah,” Marlene replied. “He hasn’t said much about it, but from what he’s said, it seems like he
grew up hearing some pretty homophobic shit thrown around at home.”

Dorcas nodded sadly. “I wish I could say I was surprised by that,” she said, playing with a lock of
Marlene’s hair absentmindedly. She sighed. “I can’t imagine how much harder that would be. I
mean, no one ever said anything like that when I was growing up, and yet I’m still scared to death
to talk to anyone about it.”

“Yeah,” Marlene replied, nodding, her eyes intent on Dorcas, whose eyes were distant, clearly
thinking as she continued to play with Marlene’s hair. “Have you thought more about Christmas?”
Marlene asked gently, trying to bring her back. The two girls had had a conversation several days
ago about when they’d tell their parents about the new status of their relationship, and Dorcas had
told Marlene that she needed a few days to think first. Dorcas’ eyes focused on Marlene’s again,
and she sighed, nodding.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” she said, after a moment’s pause.
“And?” Marlene asked, searching her face.

“And…” Dorcas said, taking a deep breath. “I’m scared.”

“Yeah,” Marlene said, giving her a sad smile. “Me too.”

“Are you?” Dorcas asked, looking at Marlene desperately. “Sometimes it just seems like it comes
so easily for you.”

Marlene smiled softly and shook her head. “I’m scared a lot of the time,” she admitted quietly.
“About a lot of things. I just try to hide it, and I try to block it out when I make decisions.”

Dorcas smiled, tracing her finger down the side of Marlene’s face. “You’re so tough,” she teased
lightly, and Marlene rolled her eyes, letting out a laugh. “I wish I could do that,” Dorcas continued,
her face falling. “I wish I could stop worrying about all the things that could go wrong.”

“Well, we don’t have to tell them,” Marlene said gently. “I mean, I’ve already said that I want to
tell my parents that I’m bisexual, but I don’t have to tell them that we’re together, and you don’t
have to tell anyone anything you don’t want to.”

“I know that,” Dorcas said, sighing. She began to trace shapes on Marlene’s forearm through the
thick wool of her sweater, not meeting her eyes. After a moment, she said very quietly: “I want to
tell them.”

“Really?” Marlene asked, her heart leaping. Dorcas looked up at her, and the raw vulnerability in
her dark brown eyes made Marlene’s heart ache.

“Really,” Dorcas said. “I want my parents to know who I am, and I want to tell them about you and
me, because you make me happy, and I love them, so I want them to know that. I’m just so afraid
that it’ll be a disaster.”

“You know, if one of us were a boy, they might’ve expected it,” Marlene said, smiling slightly.
Dorcas sighed.

“But one of us isn’t a boy, Marlene,” she said. “I’ve never even had a conversation with either of
my parents that remotely mentions gay people. I have no idea how they’ll react.”

“I know,” Marlene admitted. “Neither have I, with either of my parents. I just have to believe that
they’ll be alright about it, or else I won’t be able to face the idea of telling them. And they did
always raise us to be open-minded about people, didn’t they? We’re blood traitors, after all. Our
parents have worked their whole lives to try and get rid of prejudice. Hell, my dad made a career
out of it.”

“I know,” Dorcas sighed. “But that’s one thing, this is another.” She paused for a moment, still
tracing swirls on the fabric of Marlene’s sweater with her finger. “It’s not just that we’re both girls,
either.” She didn’t look at Marlene as she said it, her eyes focused on the sleeve, avoiding her
girlfriend’s gaze.

“What do you mean?” Marlene asked, furrowing her brow.

“Do you remember what happened that first time we went into London the summer before last
with James and Sirius, outside the pub, with those men?” Dorcas asked quietly.

Marlene’s face fell, remembering exactly what Dorcas was talking about. As they’d left the pub,
the drunken men standing outside had begun to holler at Marlene, but it was only when Dorcas
confronted them that they’d truly turned nasty. She swallowed and nodded.

“Some people are always going to look at us strangely when we’re together,” Dorcas said quietly,
still not meeting Marlene’s blue gaze. “Even if they don’t see us as anything more than friends.
You know that.”

Marlene sighed and wrapped her arms tighter around Dorcas. “I know,” she replied. She was at a
loss for words for a long moment, and she pulled Dorcas closer to her instead, resting her chin on
the top of her girlfriend’s head, sighing out a long, tired breath.

“I don’t care about what anyone else thinks,” she said finally. “I love you. And I’ll protect you.”

“I love you, too,” Dorcas said softly, her warm breath against Marlene’s neck. “I just wish this
wasn’t something I had to think about. I wish I didn’t have to think about what someone will say if
I hold your hand in public. I wish I could just kiss you on the street and not worry about if there’s
anyone watching. I wish I didn’t have to be afraid.”

“I know,” Marlene said, frowning. “I wish for that, too.”

They stayed in each other’s arms like this for a long time, and it was Dorcas who broke the silence.
“Can you tell me it’ll be alright?” she asked quietly. “If you just say it’ll be fine, I know it will be.”

Marlene swallowed the lump in her throat and smiled, though she knew Dorcas couldn’t see it.
“It’ll be alright,” she said, trying to sound as sure as she could.

“Okay,” Dorcas said quietly, letting out a long, slow breath.

“Okay?” Marlene asked, her voice slightly shaky. Dorcas pulled away from Marlene’s chest to look
at her, and Marlene was surprised to see that she was smiling.

“Okay,” she repeated, then leaned up to kiss Marlene. The kiss started out chaste, but clearly, this
was not the game they’d be playing that day, as Dorcas quickly pulled Marlene in closer, parting
her lips and sighing breathily into Marlene’s open mouth in a way that made her think of a hundred
different things she wanted to do to Dorcas if she’d only let her.

Marlene shifted their positions so that she was hovering over Dorcas again, and Dorcas leaned back
onto the pillows as she smiled up at Marlene. There was something coy in the smile, something
inviting, and Marlene knew that she’d never get used to that look, never get over the thrill it sent
through her veins.

“Well, are you just going to stare, or are you going to come down here and kiss me?” Dorcas asked
after a moment, the smile spreading wider across her face. Marlene grinned teasingly down at her,
reaching her hand up to cup Dorcas’ jaw, and felt the warmth of Dorcas’ skin under her fingertips
as she flushed in response. She traced her fingers slowly down the column of Dorcas’ neck to her
collarbone, running a finger lightly along it in a way that made Dorcas shiver.

“I can’t help it,” Marlene said, looking back up to meet Dorcas’ gaze carefully, teasingly. “I have
such a good view.”

Dorcas blinked up at her, looking less confident and more flustered than she had a moment before,
but after a few seconds where she failed to come up with an adequate reply, she simply put a hand
on the back of Marlene’s neck and pulled her down to kiss her again. Marlene went happily,
kissing Dorcas hungrily as her hand moved from Dorcas’ collarbone to her side, fingers tracing
slowly down to her waist. When she reached the hem of her sweater, Marlene ran her fingers along
it for a moment, allowing Dorcas time to stop her before she reached under it, fingers splaying
across the warm skin of Dorcas’ stomach and catching hold of her bare waist. Dorcas made a
breathy little moan against Marlene’s lips that Marlene thought she wanted to hear forever, and she
shifted underneath Marlene to wrap her legs around the other girl’s hips, bringing her closer.

Marlene’s hand tightened slightly on the bare skin of Dorcas’ waist, and Dorcas reached up to run
her hands along Marlene’s sides, too, tracing the waistband of her trousers before moving up under
her sweater and onto the bare skin of her back. Marlene felt as if everywhere Dorcas touched was
on fire, one hand smoothing over the line of her spine and another at her waist. With the hand
Marlene was not using to prop herself up, she released Dorcas’ waist and ran her fingers along
Dorcas’ ribcage and under her breasts, not moving higher, just caressing the soft skin there. As she
did so, Marlene broke the kiss and pressed her lips lower, first to Dorcas’ jaw, then to the soft skin
of her neck. Dorcas made a soft, keening sound in her throat, and Marlene smiled against her skin
before sucking lightly on the sensitive spot that she knew would make Dorcas moan. When the
sound reached her ears, Marlene felt a thrill of satisfaction go through her.

After a solid thirty minutes of unhurried snogging, Dorcas pulled away, smiling at Marlene. “I
have to write my Care of Magical Creatures essay,” she said. Marlene shook her head, smiling
slightly, and ducked her head to press another kiss to Dorcas’ neck, this one more chaste than the
earlier ones.

“Nope,” she said between kisses. “You’re not leaving.”

Dorcas giggled. “I have to,” she said, her voice sounding a little breathy. “I’m behind. I already got
an extension on it from Professor Kettleburn, and it’s due tomorrow.”

“Whyyy?” Marlene groaned, pushing herself up and pouting at Dorcas. Dorcas smiled at her,
brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“Because I’ve been spending too much time snogging you and not enough time doing my
coursework,” she replied, smiling.

“Who needs coursework? It’s not as important as snogging me,” Marlene protested, kissing her
briefly again. Dorcas smiled up at her, her lips pink and swollen.

“And if I don’t get good enough marks to become a Healer?”

“Then I’ll support you with my tens of thousands of galleons of inherited wealth.” At this, Dorcas
was unable to contain her laughter, and Marlene began to laugh along with her.

“You do that,” Dorcas replied between giggles.

“Well, I’ll get James to support us all with his tens of thousands of galleons of inherited wealth,”
Marlene amended, smiling widely. “He would.”

“And if I get bored and depressed while laying around all day doing nothing?” Dorcas asked, still
grinning, her eyes twinkling up at Marlene.

“Then I’ll make sure to find ways to occupy your time,” Marlene said, a suggestive note in her
voice. Dorcas blushed dark red, biting her lip, then rolled her eyes. She pushed Marlene lightly so
she’d roll off her, and sat up.

“I really do have to go do work,” she said. Marlene pouted at her exaggeratedly and Dorcas
laughed. “It’ll take me two hours, tops. You can fend for yourself for that long, can’t you?”

Marlene groaned, flopping onto her back dramatically. “I suppose,” she conceded. Dorcas just
shook her head and laughed again.

....

On Wednesday morning, the students who would be going home for the holidays took the
carriages down to Hogsmeade station, where they were set to meet the Hogwarts Express at eleven
o’clock. Marlene and Dorcas headed down with the rest of their friends and settled themselves into
the Marauders’ compartment with the boys.

Marlene allowed Sirius to engage her in a rather absurd game of “I spy,” which quickly shifted
from making up inane descriptions for objects outside of the window into making fun of all their
fellow passengers, but mostly James. James finally cracked when Sirius began his turn by saying “I
spy with my little eye someone who sleepwalked out of his house at three a.m. and started eating
grass in the backyard,” and grabbed the book out of Dorcas’ hands, walloping Sirius over the head
with it while Marlene broke into raucous peels of laughter. Dorcas rolled her eyes and grabbed her
book back from James, but she was smiling, too, as were Remus and Peter, both regarding James in
amusement as he reddened.

“You two are either going to shut up or I’m going to place a silencing charm on the pair of you,”
James said, glaring at them. Sirius and Marlene glanced at each other, then dissolved into more
laughter, causing James to pout, crossing his arms over his chest. Still, Marlene knew that he was
secretly amused, and the diversion did him good.

As their arrival in King’s Cross Station approached, Marlene noticed that Dorcas was increasingly
fidgety. She’d begun to rub the skin of her left palm with her right thumb, a familiar nervous habit,
and after a moment, Marlene reached out and took Dorcas’ hand in both of hers, bringing it up to
her lips briefly. Dorcas looked over to her in surprise, and Marlene gave her a comforting smile,
returning their joined hands to her lap.

“What’s up, Dee?” James asked, as he’d obviously noticed Dorcas’ increasing nerves, just as
Marlene had.

“Nothing,” Dorcas answered, giving him a small smile, and squeezing Marlene’s hand gratefully.
“I’m fine.”

Sirius leaned forward, giving her a shrewd look. “Are you two going to tell your parents about—”
He paused, looking slightly awkward. “Well, you two?”

James sat up straighter, looking curiously at them. Dorcas glanced at Marlene, then nodded,
chewing on her lip.

“Wow,” Peter said, looking awed. “That’s gotta be hard.”

“Yeah,” Dorcas said, glancing up at him. “It is, a bit.”

“Are you going to tell them together?” James asked, looking from one to the other.

“No,” Marlene answered. “We decided we wanted to tell them separately since it’s not just about
the two of us being together, you know. It’s about coming out in general, too.”

She looked over at Dorcas, who was biting her lip again. It’d been Dorcas who’d insisted upon
telling their parents separately, and Marlene still wasn’t sure if she liked the decision. Apart from
the fact that she hated the idea of Dorcas facing this fear alone, she also had to admit that she was
afraid of telling her parents on her own, too. Still, she knew Dorcas was right: it was for the best.
They owed it to themselves, and to their families, to take the time to explain it to them on their
own.

“That makes sense,” James said contemplatively. He gazed at Dorcas, and, once she looked up at
him, gave her a small smile. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Dorcas returned his smile. “Thanks, Jamie,” she said. “I hope so.”

“Do you want my mum and dad to know?” James asked, raising his eyebrows. Noting the rather
alarmed expression on Dorcas’ face as she was asked to contemplate telling another set of people,
he quickly amended. “I mean, they obviously don’t have to! I just wondered, because if you
wanted me to tell them for you like I did with these lot, I could. You know, so you wouldn’t have
to worry about breaking the news, and they’d still know.”

Dorcas’ gaze flicked to Marlene, and Marlene gave her a small smile and a shrug, trying to convey
that it was up to her. Of course, Marlene hoped Dorcas would want Euphemia and Fleamont Potter
to know about them, as they were practically family to both girls, but she’d decided weeks ago that
it should be Dorcas who set the pace at which they’d tell people.

“That’d be good, I think,” Dorcas told James after a moment. “Only if you’re sure you’re
comfortable with it, though.”

“Of course!” James exclaimed. Marlene had to smile at his enthusiasm. James was no Lily; he may
have had exactly zero clue that any of his friends were gay, but that didn’t matter, what mattered
was his continuing—if sometimes slightly over-exaggerated—efforts to show them that he was
completely, one hundred and ten percent accepting of them.

“Don’t tell them right away, though,” Marlene added quickly. “I can owl you when both me and
Dee have told our parents. It’ll definitely be before Christmas.”

“Okay, definitely,” James said. “I’ll wait until you tell me.”

“I’ll probably tell my parents tonight,” Dorcas said. “I’d rather get it over with. I’ll get more
nervous the longer I wait, anyway, and my mum will know within a second of seeing me that I’m
keeping something from her.”

“Diana’s like that. Auror instincts, I suppose,” Marlene said, smiling nervously. “I’m also planning
on telling my family tonight. But I’ve been known to chicken out before, so we’ll see.”

“I forgot, you’ve got to tell your little brother, too, right?” Sirius asked her.

“Oh, yeah,” Marlene said. “I’m not worried about Tyler, though. He’ll be fine, I just hope he
doesn’t make any weird jokes in front of my parents. He’s getting to be about that age.”

“That would make things awkward,” Remus said, though Marlene could see he was suppressing a
smile. Sirius glanced over to Remus and caught the other boy’s eye, then smiled, too. Marlene
fought the urge to giggle. Those two were lucky James and Peter were so oblivious.

“Well, if it is awkward, Sirius and I’ll still be there to be a buffer during Christmas,” James said.
“And if the tension really needs diffusing, I’m sure we could come up with something good for
that.”

Dorcas’ expression twitched slightly, then her face broke into a wide smile and she began to laugh,
looking at James. “I’m sure you could,” she said. “We’ll let you know if your services are needed.”

“Okay,” James said, winking. “We’ll start planning just in case.”

Hours later, when the train pulled into platform nine and three-quarters, the Marauders filed out of
the compartment first, and Marlene pulled Dorcas back. Pulling down the blinds quickly, Marlene
leaned in and wrapped her arms around Dorcas, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“It’ll be fine,” she said, trying to convince herself as much as Dorcas. “It’ll be great.”

Dorcas looked up at her and smiled nervously. “I know it will.” She leaned up and pressed a slow
kiss to Marlene’s lips. When they parted, Dorcas gave Marlene another quick, nervous smile, then
moved to open the door, walking out into the corridor. They descended from the train together,
Marlene using all her willpower to prevent herself from grabbing Dorcas’ hand.

They spotted their families almost immediately through the crowd. Both of Dorcas’ parents were
there to greet her today, which was unusual, as Diana was usually too busy to pick her daughter up
from the platform. They were standing a few yards away talking with Imogen, Marlene’s mother.
Marlene shared a last glance with Dorcas, then they strode together toward their parents.

“Dorcas! Marlene!” Imogen exclaimed, spotting them first, a warm smile breaking across her face
immediately. She opened her arms and Marlene hurried to give her a hug, sighing into her mother’s
warm embrace. Imogen was as tall as Marlene, and when she pulled back, she beamed at her
daughter. “How are you?”

“Good,” Marlene said, giving her a smile. “Really good, mam. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, a stór,” Imogen said affectionately, pressing a hand to Marlene’s cheek
briefly. She turned to Dorcas, who’d finished hugging both of her parents.

“Dorcas,” she greeted, smiling and opening her arms for the other girl, who walked over and
hugged her gladly. Marlene turned to Diana and Thomas while Imogen was inquiring after Dorcas,
and hugged them both, too.

“Have you been staying out of trouble?” Diana inquired, an amused glint in her eyes as she drew
back from Marlene. Marlene laughed.

“For the most part,” she said, shrugging a little guiltily. Thomas laughed.

“I would expect nothing less,” he said.

“Tyler!” Marlene heard her mam call, and turned, spotting her brother, who was still talking to
some of his Ravenclaw friends a few yards away, clearly trying to ignore her. Imogen McKinnon
stood, hands on hips, tapping her foot impatiently. Tyler, clearly realizing he’d be in for a scolding
if he delayed her any longer, bade goodbye to his friends and walked over to their group.

“Hey, mam,” he said a little abashedly, and Imogen gave him a look, then enveloped him in a hug,
which he returned rather reluctantly. He made a face at Marlene over their mam’s shoulder as she
grinned at him.

Once Imogen released Tyler, she turned back to the group, smiling. “Well, we should be off. We’ll
see you all at Christmas, if not before then,” Imogen said, sharing an amused smile with Diana and
Thomas. The two sets of parents were always joking with one another about how Dorcas and
Marlene were attached at the hip...if only they knew.

“See you soon,” Marlene told Dorcas, giving her a small smile. Dorcas returned it, and again,
Marlene ached to reach out and grab her hand, kiss her, and never let her go. But instead, she
followed Imogen, who took Tyler’s arm and turned on the spot to apparate back to their house in
Oxford.
There was the normal fussing when they got home as Marlene and Tyler settled back in, unpacking
their things while Imogen hovered around them, asking questions about their terms. Tyler, at
twelve, had gotten to a stage where he was thoroughly embarrassed by his parents and shrugged off
her questions, but Marlene felt compelled to talk to her mother. She felt as if this was precious time
before she’d tell her family about her and Dorcas and everything that came with that, where she
was allowed to just be. She savored the normality of these interactions.

When supper time arrived, Marlene’s father, John, came home from work, greeting both of his
children with warm hugs. Marlene had always loved waiting for her father to return from work as a
child, when he’d sit her on his knee and tell her stories about the office, many of which she only
partially understood, but eagerly listened to all the same. They all sat down together at the table,
eating and talking, as John McKinnon was eager to ask just as many questions about the time
they’d been away as his wife had.

As she helped clear away the plates and clean the dishes after dinner, Marlene could feel her heart
beating faster and faster. They’d go and sit in the sitting room after dinner, as they always did, and
talk. That was when she’d planned to tell them. That was when she had to tell them. One of the
plates slipped out of her hands into the sink with a loud crash, and John looked up from where he
was still clearing the table.

“You alright, Marls?” he asked, walking over to her, depositing the last dishes into the sink, and
putting a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, his blue eyes, so like hers, steady and calm.
For someone who spent a great deal of his work life making impassioned speeches and persuading
people to his side, he was a man of few words at home.

“I’m okay,” she said, removing her hands from the sink and grabbing her wand, making the brush
begin to clean the dishes of its own accord.

“Okay,” John responded, giving her a quick, comforting smile. Marlene followed him out of the
kitchen into the sitting room, where she sat down on the couch next to Tyler, grabbing a pillow
absentmindedly and hugging it. Imogen narrowed her eyes at Marlene as she sat down, a shrewd
expression on her face, and Marlene flushed but didn’t look away. After a moment, her mother
spoke.

“Out with it, then,” she said sternly. “Did you do something? Will I be receiving a letter from
Hogwarts?”

“I haven’t done anything wrong!” Marlene exclaimed a little too loudly, defensiveness in her voice.
“Honestly, I haven’t.” Imogen raised her eyebrows, a slight smile coming over her face now.

“Alright, so it’s something else,” she said perceptively. “Is it a boy? Are you seeing someone?”
Next to her mother, Marlene’s father’s face was still neutral, but he was examining Marlene
closely, too.

“I, uh,” Marlene started, glancing from one parent to the other. She pushed away the urge to
concoct a lie, deny everything. That wasn’t what tonight was about. Next to her, she could feel
Tyler’s eyes boring into her, as well. “I am seeing someone,” she said, feeling as if the words were
being dragged from her by force.

Imogen’s smile widened, while John only raised his eyebrows slightly, and Tyler frowned. It was
Tyler who spoke first, his voice accusing. “Someone at Hogwarts? I haven’t heard anything about
—” Marlene turned and shot him a pointed glare, and he fell silent. She wasn’t in the mood for
interruptions.
“Well?” John asked, eyebrows raised. “Who’s this boy? How long have you been seeing him?” He
wasn’t angry, Marlene knew, but he was wary. That had been much of his reaction to her antics
over the years, and now, naturally, he was wary of what she was getting up to and with whom.

“It’s only been about a month,” Marlene said, choosing to answer his latter question first. Her eyes
flicked between her two parents again, trying to decide who she should look at when she broke the
news. She settled on her father’s eyes, the warm blue flame in them waiting, not requiring anything
from her.

“It’s not—” Marlene cleared her throat, trying to swallow the lump in it. She tried again, looking
straight into her father’s eyes, trying to gather whatever strength she could from them. “It’s not a
boy.”

Despite the fact that no one but Marlene had been speaking before, it felt as if the room got quieter
after her whispered pronouncement. Tyler, who’d been fidgeting with his sweater, froze, eyebrows
raised, eyes wide. Imogen blinked, uncomprehending, and John just sat there, not shifting his gaze
from Marlene’s, his eyes still steady blue, searching hers. The silence stretched into a long
moment, where it seemed as if all of the McKinnons were waiting for one of them to speak, but
none were willing to comply. It was John who finally broke it.

“Alright,” he replied, still looking at Marlene. Marlene’s eyes widened. Would it really be that
easy? Had he, in those few moments of looking at her, seen and understood all he needed to?

“What?!” Imogen demanded, breaking the eye contact between father and daughter as Marlene
turned to look at her. She was staring at Marlene, her mouth slightly open, eyes wide. “What?” she
asked again, and there was a note of danger in her voice, one Marlene recognized. It was the one
she always used when she discovered one of Marlene’s wrongdoings, which always preceded a
scolding.

“Mam—” Marlene started imploringly, but Imogen held up a hand, and Marlene fell silent.

“You’re going to need to explain to me very clearly what is going on, Marlene Anne McKinnon,”
she said, her voice low. “Are you telling us that you’re dating a girl?”

“Yes,” Marlene replied, her voice soft. She felt suddenly cowed, timid in the face of her mother’s
demanding tone. “I’m in a relationship with a girl, mam.”

Imogen stared at her, shock and anger in her eyes. “What are you thinking of?” she asked, standing
up from her chair and beginning to pace. “Where in the world did you get an idea like that?”

“It’s not an idea I got,” Marlene said, a snap to her voice now. “It’s who I am, mam. I fancy girls.
Boys too, but also girls. I’m bisexual.”

Imogen rounded on her. “Don’t talk to me with that tone, young lady,” she said. “It’s not who you
are. Don’t you think I know who you are? You’re not—you’re not one of them. You’re confused.
Who have you been speaking to? Who is this, this person that’s been filling your head with lies?”

“I’m bisexual, mam!” Marlene said, her voice rising, ignoring her mother’s rebuke. Tyler’s head
was turning back and forth, looking from his mother to Marlene and back again, eyes wide. John
was still sitting, not looking at his wife, just at his daughter, his expression unreadable. “And I
didn’t talk to anyone. I figured it out by myself because I fell in love with a girl, and no one
convinced me of anything or filled my head with any lies. No one needed to!” She wasn’t going to
mention Dorcas’ name yet, she couldn’t, not while Imogen was accusing her girlfriend of
corrupting Marlene.
Imogen opened her mouth and closed it again, staring at her daughter. Perhaps it was the
declaration of love that had caught her off guard. She turned and began to pace again. “Well,” she
said, clearly trying to resume her train of thought. “Well, if you are bisexual, why don’t you just
date boys, then, anyway? If you have a choice, I don’t see why—”

“Imogen,” John said from his chair. His voice was low, but as Imogen turned to look at him, he
met her gaze with hard rebuke in his eyes. “She’s in love.” She glared back at him for a moment
before bursting out again.

“And that makes it alright, does it, John?” she demanded. She pointed a frantic finger at Marlene.
“Your daughter is about to ruin her life for what she calls love, she’s going to lose opportunities
and be spat on so she can indulge in this fantasy! Is that what you want for her?”

John stared back at her, his eyes blazing. Tyler was staring open-mouthed at his parents. Marlene,
too, felt out of her depth. She’d never seen her parents argue like this.

“It’s not our choice to make,” John replied firmly. “And you can’t predict the future any more than
I can. The world is changing, Imogen. That’s what we always dreamed of when we were young,
wasn’t it?”

“I didn’t dream of this,” Imogen replied angrily. “It’s wrong. You know it is.”

“I don’t know anything of the sort,” John replied. He looked past his wife back towards Marlene,
who now felt oddly numb, detached from the conversation as if she was hearing it through water.

“What’s this girl’s name, Marlene?” he asked steadily, giving her a small, encouraging smile.
Marlene took a deep breath, looking between her mother’s angry, conflicted expression, her
father’s steady gaze, and Tyler’s open-mouthed confusion.

“Dorcas,” she said, giving her father a small smile and a shrug. “Her name is Dorcas Meadowes.”

Imogen’s mouth fell open in shock. Even John looked surprised now, and Tyler’s jaw seemed to
have become unhinged, for how wide his mouth was.

“I’m in love with Dorcas,” Marlene continued, taking the opportunity with her mother’s sudden
silence. “And she’s in love with me. And it hasn’t been long, but it’s not going away. She’s my
forever. So you’ll either have to accept it or...I don’t know.” She looked at her mother, who was
staring back at her now, her eyes wide. She didn’t look angry anymore, but neither was she pleased.

There was a long pause. “I—I—” Imogen started, opening and closing her mouth several times.
Finally, she collapsed back on her chair, her head in her hands. She looked lost, confused.

“You love Dorcas,” Marlene implored her mother, her voice small. She tried valiantly not to cry.
“And Dorcas loves me. Can’t you be happy that I’m with someone you already know is a good
person? Who you already know makes me happy?” Unwanted, a tear slipped down her cheek.
Imogen still wasn’t looking at her.

“I don’t know,” her mother said, sounding sad and tired. “I don’t understand this. I just...I don’t
know.”

She looked up at Marlene finally, and her expression twitched as she saw the tears on Marlene’s
face. At that moment, Marlene knew Imogen was struggling with the instinct to walk over and
envelop her daughter in her arms and wipe away her tears. Instead, she stood again and walked out
of the sitting room. A moment later, Marlene heard the door to her parent’s room shut behind her
and the faint sound of a muffled sob.
John stood slowly and walked over to his daughter. He pulled her up from her seat and wrapped his
arms around her. Marlene buried her head in his shoulder, shaking slightly, slow tears still trickling
down her cheeks. He held her for a long moment, rubbing circles on her upper back comfortingly.
Then he drew back, pressing a kiss to her temple, and smiled down at her.

“I’m very proud of you,” he told her, cupping her chin with one large hand. “You just exhibited
extraordinary bravery. I’m glad you told us who you are.” He glanced back towards the corridor,
sighing, then turned back. “And I’m happy that you’ve found someone who you love. Dorcas is an
amazing girl. Your mam will come around.”

“Thanks, dad,” Marlene said, sniffling slightly. “I hope she does.”

“I’ll speak to her,” he promised. “It’ll be alright.”

He gave her one last kiss on the forehead, then turned and headed down the corridor toward their
room. Once the door closed, Marlene was left standing there, silence coming over the room again.
Still on the couch, Tyler closed his mouth and coughed awkwardly. Marlene turned to look at him,
wiping the tears from her face as she did so. He gave her a slight, nervous smile.

“Hot cocoa?” he asked, shrugging. Marlene let out a soft, startled laugh, and nodded. As Tyler
stood up, he hurried to Marlene and seized her in a brief, fierce hug, the top of his head barely
reaching her shoulders, then released her, scurrying past his older sister to the kitchen. Marlene
smiled and followed him.

....

Naturally, Marlene had owled Dorcas on Wednesday night to tell her what’d happened. Dorcas had
replied quickly, telling her how sorry she was that Marlene had had to deal with Imogen’s negative
reaction on her own, as well as giving her the encouraging news that Diana and Thomas Meadowes
had been nothing short of thrilled upon hearing that Dorcas and Marlene were together. Marlene
was relieved; at least four-fifths of their family members were happy. She’d written to James the
following day, letting him know that he was free to tell Euphemia and Fleamont whenever he saw
fit, and catching him up, too, on both Dorcas’ and Marlene’s news.

James, characteristically, had arrived at the McKinnon house via floo powder that afternoon,
having told his parents as soon as he’d received Marlene’s letter, then hurrying to comfort her.
After assuring her that his parents had been nothing but supportive, he listened intently as Marlene
gave him a blow-by-blow description of what’d happened.

“It’s pretty shit,” Marlene concluded after she’d finished telling him how strained her brief
interactions with her mother had been that day. James frowned sympathetically, sprawled on
Marlene’s bed across from her.

“I’m really sorry,” he said. “I never expected Imogen to react like this.”

“I don’t know,” Marlene said, sighing. “I’m not that surprised, to be honest. I mean, I think I half
expected one of our parents to react poorly, and my mam was raised really religious, you know.
Honestly, I’m still glad it’s me who has to deal with the bad reaction rather than Dorcas.”

James gave her a look. “Neither of you should have to deal with it.”

“Yeah, but Dee was more nervous than I was.”

James made a small, disbelieving sound in his throat, but changed the subject. “Are you going to
see Dorcas before Christmas?”
Marlene shrugged, glancing towards her door. “I don’t know,” she said hesitantly. “I’m not sure
it’s a good idea, just now. Better to give my mam a bit of time.”

“Okay,” James said, frowning. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to face this on your
own.”

Marlene gave him a smile. “You’re here, aren’t you?” James smiled back at her.

“I’m always here if you need me,” he replied.

“Where’s Sirius, by the way?” Marlene asked.

“He’s visiting Remus’ house,” James said, shrugging unconcernedly and tossing the small model
Quaffle he’d been playing with for the past ten minutes into the air. “Remus isn’t feeling so good,
so Sirius is keeping him company.” Marlene raised her eyebrows slightly, unseen by James, and
grinned to herself.

“Oh,” she said, keeping her voice neutral. “Was he there when you told Euphemia and Fleamont
about me and Dee?”

“Nah,” James replied, glancing at her. “I’ll update him later. Do you want me to tell him to owl
you?”

“No, that’s fine,” Marlene said. “I’ll talk to him at Christmas.”

....

Three days later, on Sunday afternoon, the McKinnons apparated to the Potter house to celebrate
Christmas. When Marlene arrived in front of the Potters’ gate, she took a deep breath, steeling
herself. Moments later, her father appeared with Tyler in tow, and, after another second, Imogen
arrived next to them. Marlene stepped forward and opened the gate, heading to the front door, and
knocked firmly. After only a moment, the door opened to reveal Euphemia Potter, who beamed at
them.

“Marlene!” she exclaimed, her smile wide, immediately stepping forward to hug her. “How lovely
to see you!”

Her eyes twinkled as she stepped back, and Marlene flushed slightly under the older woman’s gaze
before Euphemia moved aside to let her in, greeting the rest of her family as they passed. When
Marlene stepped into the sitting room, she was met with the sight of Dorcas, already sitting on the
couch.

Dorcas looked up as Marlene entered and gave her a small smile. She was wearing a deep blue
turtleneck sweater which accentuated the warm brown shade of her skin, and, of course, looked as
beautiful as she ever had. Marlene felt a wave of relief wash through her at the sight of Dorcas and
returned her smile.

Sirius, who sat across from Dorcas, stood from his chair and strode over to embrace Marlene,
hugging her tightly. “Hey,” he said into her hair.

“Hey,” Marlene returned, smiling as she drew back from him. “Happy Christmas.” He gave her a
sympathetic smile.

“Happy Christmas!” James practically shouted as he bounded into the room from the direction of
the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around Marlene, too, lifting her in his hug. Marlene laughed.
“Happy Christmas, James,” she said, grinning as he released her. Dorcas stood up from her seat,
too, and moved over to Marlene’s side. There was a moment of hesitation between the two girls,
then Marlene stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Dorcas’ waist, and Dorcas linked hers
around Marlene’s neck, holding her close. Marlene rested her cheek against Dorcas’ temple for a
moment as she hugged her, sighing, her body relaxing at the contact.

They broke apart at the sound of a throat being cleared behind them. James, who’d made the
sound, gave them a nervous look, nodding towards the doorway, where Marlene’s parents were
standing next to Euphemia, who was beaming. John had a small smile on his face, while Imogen’s
expression was blank.

“Hello, Dorcas,” John said, striding forward to hug her. Dorcas smiled gratefully, hugging him
back before he released her. Next was Tyler, who cannonballed into Dorcas, hugging her tightly
and beaming up at her.

“Well, you definitely weren’t this enthusiastic when I saw you four days ago,” Dorcas joked
lightly, pushing his hair out of his eyes. Tyler just grinned, rolling his eyes before moving to greet
James and Sirius, who Marlene knew he idolized.

Imogen was still standing in the doorway, looking wary. Dorcas attempted a small smile. “Happy
Christmas, Imogen,” she said tentatively, directing her words toward the older woman. Imogen
seemed to flinch slightly. Then, she forced her lips into a very tense smile.

“Happy Christmas, Dorcas.”

Marlene saw Dorcas’ face fall, and anger welled up inside her. It was one thing to ice Marlene out,
but how dare her mother upset Dorcas? She glared at Imogen, who’d looked away from both girls
toward the doorway to the kitchen, from which Diana and Thomas Meadowes had just appeared,
followed by James’ father. Both of Dorcas’ parents greeted all members of the McKinnon family
with warmth, and the group settled together in the sitting room. While Dorcas and Marlene sat next
to each other, they didn’t touch, and the few inches of distance between them felt particularly
charged. Marlene felt similarly to how she’d done months before, when she’d been trying to
conceal her feelings for Dorcas, always conscious of how much distance there was between her and
the other girl, mindful of every casual touch.

Euphemia, it seemed, was committed to diffusing all tension in the room. She’d determinedly
engaged Imogen in conversation, not mentioning anything about Dorcas and Marlene, but sneaking
glances at them every now and again, beaming each time she did. Dorcas’ father, Thomas, was
absorbed in a conversation with Fleamont about potions, while John listened politely, asking
questions now and again. Diana, on the other hand, was focused on Dorcas and Marlene.

“How are you faring in your seventh year, then?” she asked, taking a sip of her eggnog as she
looked at Marlene. “Dorcas tells me she’s very busy.”

“It’s alright,” Marlene said. “But yes, I’m also a bit overwhelmed. It’s strange to think that we only
have one more term left.”

“It’s all coming to a close,” Diana said. “But you’ll soon find after you graduate that there’s a lot
more to life than just being in school.”

“I’m sure,” Marlene said, smiling. “It’s difficult to see anything beyond N.E.W.T.s, though, at the
moment.”

Diana smiled. “Well, now’s the time to start,” she said. “That reminds me, I think we should sit
down together at some point before you go back to Hogwarts and talk about your application to the
Auror office. That is still what you want to do, correct?”

“Oh,” Marlene said, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. “Um...yes, definitely! It’s still what I
want to do. I guess I should start looking into the application. I haven’t done that yet.”

“Don’t you worry about it,” Diana replied. “I’ll talk you through everything you need to know.
And I’ve already spoken to Caradoc Dearborn about your interest in the program. He handles a lot
of the new recruits.”

“Thank you,” Marlene said very sincerely, touched by the lengths that Dorcas’ mother had already
gone to help her achieve her ambition. She’d always idolized Diana and all that she did as an
Auror. Diana smiled.

“Of course, Marlene,” she said, her voice gentle all of a sudden. “I know you have what it takes.
And you are family, after all.” Diana glanced over at Dorcas and smiled, a fond look in her eyes,
then looked back at Marlene, gaze full of meaning. Marlene swallowed, her eyes filling with
sudden tears.

“Thank you,” she said again, her voice slightly choked. Just then, she felt a warm hand slide into
her own and turned to look at Dorcas, who shot her a smile. Diana turned her attention to James
and Sirius, inquiring about each of their career aspirations, too, and giving Marlene and Dorcas a
moment.

“I’ve missed you,” Marlene said softly to Dorcas. Dorcas nodded, her gaze earnest.

“I’ve missed you, too,” she replied. Marlene felt eyes on them and looked up to see Imogen quickly
look away, back to Euphemia.

Marlene savored the feeling of Dorcas beside her on the couch, the feel of her hand in Marlene’s
own, which felt like the boldest thing she’d done in a good few years. Very unfortunately, when it
came time for Christmas dinner, Euphemia clearly was back to her scheming, as she’d sat Dorcas
next to Imogen, while Marlene was several seats away, sandwiched between a very sheepish-
looking James and Diana. Therefore, Marlene looked on helplessly for the whole of dinner while
Imogen exchanged rather stiff conversation with Dorcas and Euphemia, who was seated on
Dorcas’ other side, a smile on her face. She tried to catch Dorcas’ eye many times, but as the
evening drew on, Dorcas was increasingly avoiding her gaze.

Sighing, Marlene excused herself to go to the bathroom, knowing that watching the situation
unfold wouldn’t do anything. She took several deep breaths as she stood over the sink, looking at
herself in the mirror.

“It’s going to be alright,” she told herself. “It’s just going to take time. It’ll be alright.” She wished,
then, that she had the same conviction in her voice as when she’d said it to Dorcas, a week before.
If you just say it’ll be fine, I know it will be, Dorcas had told her. At that moment, Dorcas’ belief in
Marlene had convinced her, too. Now, she was sure neither of them felt that same conviction
anymore.

Exiting the bathroom, she headed back to the dining table but stopped when she scanned the table,
realizing that Dorcas was no longer sitting there. “Where’s Dorcas?” she asked, her brow
furrowing.

“She said she needed some air,” Euphemia said, her tone slightly apologetic. Clearly, she was now
regretting her seating arrangements. Marlene’s gaze shifted to her mother, frowning.
“Did you say something to her?” she demanded, her tone accusatory. Imogen shook her head,
looking defensive.

“I didn’t—” she started, but Marlene held up a hand, shaking her head in disgust and walking over
to the back door. Exiting the house, she looked around, scanning the hills. Dorcas was nowhere to
be found. Had she left?

“Marlene.” Marlene turned to find James behind her, frowning slightly, his hands in his pockets.

“What?” Marlene demanded, slightly frantic.

“I think she went up to the pond,” James replied softly, nodding up the hill. Marlene followed his
gaze up the hill, then looked back to him, nodding in silent thanks, then turning to hurry up the
slope.

Marlene found Dorcas five minutes later, standing at the edge of the pond, her arms wrapped
around her, staring into the water. She didn’t turn as Marlene walked up but shifted to allow
Marlene to wrap her arms around her waist from behind, sighing out a long breath that clouded the
air in front of them. Neither of them spoke for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” Marlene said finally. “I didn’t expect her to be like this, not to you, especially.”

“It’s alright,” Dorcas said softly. “It’s not your fault she’s acting this way. Besides, it’s you who’s
had to deal with this for the past few days. I can handle it for a few hours.”

“I know,” Marlene replied. “But I was the one who convinced you to do this, and I told you it’d be
alright, and now you’re upset because of my mam when your family is being lovely about it, and I
hate to see you hurting.”

“You didn’t lead me into anything I didn’t already want to do,” Dorcas replied, sighing and
covering Marlene’s hands, which were resting on top of her stomach, with her own. “I came into
this knowing it might be hard, but I wanted to do it anyway. I’ll be alright. I just needed a minute
away.”

“Okay,” Marlene said. They stood together for another few moments, just breathing, reassuring
each other with their presence. Then Marlene quirked a smile, nodding towards the water. “Do you
want to jump in?”

Dorcas turned and gave Marlene a sudden smile, brown eyes sparkling. “Will you join me if I do?”

Marlene shrugged, grinning. “Why not?”

And so it was that Marlene shrugged out of her coat, boots, and mittens, and waded into the water,
hand in hand with Dorcas, before diving in headfirst. It was later in the year than they’d usually
done this when they’d been children, and Marlene knew the water would likely freeze over within
weeks, if not days. The icy water bit at Marlene’s skin painfully and her shivering was
uncontrollable, but Dorcas was smiling, and as long as Dorcas was smiling, Marlene wasn’t
complaining.

They walked back down the hill ten minutes later, hand in hand, both their clothes dried magically,
though Marlene was still shivering. And though Dorcas’ smile had faded slightly by the time they
walked back into the house, she was still holding Marlene’s hand, and Marlene was glad. And two
days later, when Marlene started coughing, she still didn’t complain, because as long as Dorcas
was smiling, Marlene would be alright.
Chapter End Notes

Okay, I legitimately cried while writing this chapter (not sure why I’m saying that like
I don’t cry writing almost all of them). Dorlene angst/fluff (and hurt/comfort, too, I
guess) is my kryptonite.

Also, this may be my longest chapter so far, and I contemplated splitting it in two, but I
felt like this wasn’t the kind of thing I wanted to let my readers have suspense for. No
need to make it a more stressful chapter than it already is. So I hope you enjoyed the
26 pages lol. If you haven’t gathered this by now, I’m not very good at being concise
(clearly exhibited by the fact that this is now a 300k+ word fic).
 1978: Lambda

The day after the New Year, Remus met the other Marauders, plus Dorcas and Marlene, to go see
Sirius’ new flat for the first time. They’d meant to do it sooner but had had a few delays, mostly
due to Remus, as the full moon had fallen on Christmas Day. As he hadn’t been able to have the
other Marauders with him through it, it’d gone more poorly than usual, and Remus had several
injuries. Sirius, sometimes accompanied by the other Marauders, had visited Remus afterward
when he could, though he snuck in the day after the full moon, as Lyall wouldn’t have approved of
him seeing his friends so soon. Remus had still not told his father that they knew he was a
werewolf, after all.

Remus felt poorly that he’d delayed Sirius’ trip to see his uncle’s old flat, but Sirius insisted that he
didn’t care. Remus sometimes wondered whether Sirius was glad of the delay because facing the
empty flat, and the memory of his uncle, was overwhelming to him.

However, Sirius couldn’t avoid it forever. Remus apparated to James’ house on Blacksmith Hill at
eleven o’clock on Monday morning and knocked on the door. After waiting for a minute with no
answer, he turned the doorknob, knowing that the Potters usually kept their door unlocked, and
entered on his own. Looking around, he found the sitting room deserted, but heard someone
running around upstairs, and the sound of loud music.

Remus smiled and mounted the staircase. As he reached the landing, he nearly collided with
James, who was clearly about to run down it. “Moony!” James exclaimed, beaming at him. “I
didn’t hear you knock.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Remus said, grinning. James rolled his eyes.

“Padfoot is clearly determined to deafen himself,” he said. Just then, they heard the sounds of
someone else knocking on the door. James looked towards the door, then grinned at Remus,
clapping him on the back with the air of a man happily saddling another with an unpleasant task.
“Get him to hurry up, will you? I’m going to let the girls in.”

He bounded past Remus down the stairs, leaving Remus to roll his eyes and make his way towards
Sirius’ door, from which the sounds of News of the World were still issuing. He knocked on the
door loudly and heard Sirius moving around inside, saying something he couldn’t make out. After
a few seconds, he knocked again more insistently. The door swung open, revealing a shirtless and
annoyed-looking Sirius Black.

“Prongs, I said—” Sirius broke off mid-sentence, a delighted smile spreading across his face as he
took in the sight of Remus in the doorway. Remus quirked an amused eyebrow at him, taking in his
half-naked appearance.

“Hi,” he said, eyes returning to Sirius’ face after they’d trailed down his bare chest.

“Moony!” Sirius exclaimed, tugging him back into his room by the arm and slamming the door
behind him. Pushing Remus back against the door, Sirius kissed him enthusiastically, hands
already reaching up below the hem of his sweater and trailing across the skin of his midriff.

“Padfoot,” Remus laughed into the kiss, pulling back slightly even as Sirius reached up, trying to
rejoin their lips. “You’ve got to get dressed. Prongs just sent me to hurry you up. The girls just
arrived.”
“But I don’t want to get dressed,” Sirius said, grinning, his hands still on Remus’ waist underneath
his sweater. “I want to get you undressed.”

Remus flushed slightly, then bent down to kiss him again, his hands reaching for Sirius’ hair,
tugging on it lightly as he kissed the other boy deeply. After only a moment, however, he pulled
back, disentangling himself and smiling.

“Get ready,” he said, pointing an accusing finger at Sirius before opening the door and leaving,
shutting it again in Sirius’ flushed, pouting face. Remus grinned to himself, taking a deep breath
and letting it out. Once he’d gathered himself, Remus strode away from Sirius’ door and back
towards the staircase, descending it to meet Dorcas and Marlene in the sitting room.

“Remus,” Dorcas greeted him with a smile and a hug. “Happy New Year! Are you feeling better?”

“Much better,” Remus said, smiling at her and moving to return Marlene’s hug, too. “Just a bit of a
stomach bug, you know.”

“Bloody shame it happened right after Christmas,” Marlene said, giving him a sympathetic smile.
“Where’s Sirius got off to, then?”

“He’s taking his time,” Remus said, rolling his eyes and grinning.

“I’m sure he is,” Marlene said, smirking slightly.

“He’s delaying wherever he can,” James remarked, shaking his head in slight exasperation. “He
won’t admit it, of course, but I think he’s hesitant to see the place.”

“I’ve been getting the same feeling,” Remus agreed.

“Well, he can’t delay forever,” Dorcas pointed out. “He’ll see the flat and then he won’t have to
dread it anymore. We’ll be there to help him, too.”

“Alright, I’m ready!” Sirius’ voice issued from upstairs, and they all turned to see him appear on
the landing, a smile on his face, now fully dressed. “You can quit talking about me,” he said,
smirking as he bounded down the stairs to greet them. James smirked back.

“Good,” he replied. “You’re pretty boring to gossip about, anyway.”

“Prongs, you wound me,” Sirius said, smiling as he hugged both girls briefly in greeting. “How are
you, Marlene, Dorcas?”

“Good,” Dorcas replied, smiling and hugging him. She didn’t have to reach up as much as with
Remus or James, as Sirius was only about four inches taller than she was, and an inch shorter than
Marlene. James, of course, regularly lifted people off their feet while hugging them, while Remus
bent down as far as he could, so as not to inconvenience them. Sirius’ height, however, was ideal
for hugging people of all frames, which was lucky for him, as it seemed he was always clinging
onto someone.

“Very good,” Marlene added, hugging Sirius, too. “The new year feels promising, doesn’t it?
We’re graduating this year!”

“Oh, don’t say that,” James groaned. “I don’t want to have to think about it.”

“Well, I guess we should go, then?” Sirius asked. “James, are you going to pick up Pete?”
“Oh, yeah, I almost forgot!” James said, smacking himself on the forehead. “I keep forgetting that
he hasn’t passed his apparition test yet.”

Marlene laughed. “I suppose we’ll meet you there, then.”

“Yeah, okay,” James said distractedly, heading towards the front door, the rest following him.
James hurried to the front gate, opened it, then turned on the spot and vanished.

“Well, I hope he remembers the address,” Sirius commented, smirking.

A minute later, Remus landed in a deserted alleyway beside Sirius, Dorcas and Marlene appearing
seconds later next to them. Glancing around, Sirius set off, the others following in his wake. They
only had to walk for about a minute before Sirius turned towards the entrance of a tall, brick
apartment building. He stopped at the door, taking a key out of his pocket and unlocking it. The
entrance hall was large, but Sirius didn’t dally there, striding towards the lifts. He pressed the up
button and the lift doors slid open immediately, if a little noisily, allowing them entrance. All four
wizards stepped inside, and Sirius pressed the button labeled seven.

As the lift started to move upwards, Sirius began to bounce on the balls of his feet, looking up at
the digital screen telling them which floor they were on. Remus reached next to him and took his
hand, intertwining his fingers with Sirius’. Sirius glanced at Remus and smiled, letting out a breath.
Neither Dorcas nor Marlene commented on this little gesture of affection, which Remus was glad
of. Sirius was certainly not in the mood to be teased.

None of them spoke as they got out of the elevator, and Sirius led them down the hallway towards
a door labeled ‘77’ in gold. Taking a deep breath, Sirius raised his key and unlocked the deadbolt,
then the bottom lock.

“Couldn’t you just use Alohomora?” Marlene asked curiously. Sirius shook his head.

“Alphard made it so that nothing but the key would work on this door,” he explained. “The one at
the bottom entrance, too.” Slowly, he turned the doorknob and opened the door to the flat.

Sirius walked in first, followed by Remus, Dorcas, and Marlene. Remus’ first impression of the
place was that it was more modest than he’d expected. It wasn’t small, per se, but Remus had been
imagining something grander given his knowledge of the Black family. The hallway opened up
onto a sitting room, which was bare and had large windows that showed off a beautiful view of
London. The kitchen, next to it, was also empty, but it had expensive-looking marble countertops
and a range, which Remus vaguely thought Sirius might use to burn the whole building down.

Past the kitchen and the sitting room, there were two doors, one for the toilet and another for the
single bedroom, Remus guessed. Just as Remus looked over at them, Sirius strode over to open one
of the doors, which turned out to be the bedroom. Remus followed him in, looking around at the
bare hardwood floor and another window in the wall.

“It’s nice,” he commented to Sirius, his voice echoing in the empty flat. Sirius nodded, not replying
but opening the door to the closet and peering inside. “Do you like it?” Remus pressed, looking
over at him.

Sirius sighed, still staring at the empty closet. “Yeah,” he replied finally. “I just thought there’d be
something of him here, you know. But it’s just a flat.”

“Well, I suppose Professor Abbott took all of his belongings,” Remus replied, looking around at the
bare walls.
“I know,” Sirius said hollowly, looking back to Remus. “I knew it’d be empty. I just thought I’d be
able to feel him here, somehow. But nothing feels familiar.”

Remus gave Sirius a sad smile, but before he could move towards him, they heard a buzz from the
front room. Sirius furrowed his brow, striding back out of the bedroom towards the door. Next to
it, there was a button that was lit up, indicating someone was downstairs waiting to be let in.

“Must be Prongs and Wormtail,” Sirius said, examining the panel curiously before pressing the
button. “Hopefully that’ll let them in.” He went back to examining the bedroom.

Minutes later, a knock sounded on the door, and Marlene, who was closest, opened it to reveal
James and Peter on the threshold.

“Hey,” James said, grinning and walking in. “Nice place.”

“Hey, Wormtail,” Remus greeted the fourth member of the Marauders.

“Moony!” Peter exclaimed, moving forward to give him a hug and clapping him on the back
affectionately. “Glad you’re out and about again.”

“Yeah, I’m feeling loads better,” Remus said, smiling. After he finished greeting everyone, Peter
looked around and whistled under his breath.

“Very cool,” he said, walking over to the windows and looking out. “Nice view.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty nice,” Sirius agreed, joining him by the windows to examine the view properly.
“Better to have a nice view than a huge flat, in my book. I’m glad it’s not super posh-looking.”

“I don’t know,” Dorcas said, from where she was rooting around in the kitchen. “All the appliances
and things in here are super nice.”

“At some point, you’re just going to have to accept that your life will always be somewhat posh,
Sirius,” Marlene joked. She’d opened the door onto the bathroom, which was tiled and had a
marble sink top, just like the kitchen counters.

“You lot have never seen my family home,” Sirius retorted, sounding amused. “Posh is all
relative.” He was still looking out through the windows, and despite the amusement in it, his voice
sounded distant. Remus had to fight the urge to walk over and put his arms around him, reminding
himself that James and Peter were here now.

Sirius turned finally and sat on the windowsill, looking across at Dorcas, who was opening the
cabinets in the kitchen, examining their empty depths. “So, Dee,” he said. “I heard your mum
smoothed everything over with Marley’s family?”

“It was just with my mam,” Marlene called from the bathroom, her voice echoing. “My dad and
Tyler were fine from the start.”

“Yeah,” Dorcas replied, addressing Sirius. “My mum wrote Imogen and sort of demanded they
meet for tea, and then, I gather, gave her a very firm talking to.”

“She told her to get her shit together, basically,” James broke in, coming back out of the bedroom
and grinning at Dorcas. “Said that Dorcas and Marlene are great together and Imogen had better
get on board because she was being ridiculous. I heard Diana telling my mum about it.”

“My mam seemed proper ashamed when she came back,” Marlene said, smiling slightly as she
exited the bathroom. “As anyone on the wrong end of Diana’s scolding would be. It helped that my
dad was saying a lot of the same things, too. She actually came and apologized to me, and invited
Dorcas over for dinner, too.”

“I could tell she was making an extra effort to talk to me when I came over, to make up for
Christmas, I suppose,” Dorcas said. “I still don’t think she knows quite how to act around me now,
but she’s trying.”

“So your dad is better?” Remus asked Marlene. Marlene nodded.

“We didn’t talk much in depth about it,” she admitted. “But he seemed to accept it almost right
away. If it threw him, I couldn’t really tell. He’s just like that, though. Calm and measured.”

“I can’t imagine how he’s related to you,” Sirius teased, and Marlene stuck her tongue out at him.

“The person who’s really thrilled is Tyler,” Dorcas added, smiling widely. “He keeps going on
about how I’m going to be his sister-in-law. I really don’t have the heart to tell him that that can
never happen.” Remus caught the worried glance Marlene sent Dorcas’ way at this, but Dorcas’
back was turned, as she was looking in the fridge, so she didn’t see it.

There was a slightly awkward pause, during which James had a forlorn look on his face, like a
small child who’d just been told his favorite cartoon was canceled, and Dorcas seemed oblivious,
still examining the kitchen. After a moment, James shook himself and commented cheerfully:

“So, it’s very empty.”

Remus suppressed a laugh. “Well spotted, Prongs.”

“Well, you’ll have to get new furniture,” James said, unbothered by Remus’ sarcasm. “Is there
anything here left of Alphard’s?”

“Not that I’ve found,” Sirius said, and the disappointment was so clear in his voice that everyone
noticed it then. James gave him a sympathetic smile and walked over to clap a hand on his best
friend’s back.

“We’ll just all have to look, then,” he said. “There must be something. Who took it all, anyway?
Andy, or your other relatives?”

Remus glanced at Sirius briefly, and, seeing his cheeks flush slightly, looked away to find that
Dorcas had turned and was frowning slightly at him. Marlene, from the doorway to the bathroom,
gave Remus a small shake of her head. Sirius clearly hadn’t clued James into what he’d discovered
about his uncle and Professor Abbott.

“Our other relatives, I think,” Sirius replied shiftily. “They must’ve stripped the place.”

“We’ll find something,” James said, looking around at all of them. They all nodded, determined
looks on their faces, and set out to search. After fifteen minutes of coming up empty, Remus was
beginning to think that there really was nothing left, and he felt a slight pang of annoyance at
Professor Abbott for not leaving anything behind for Sirius. Perhaps it was the combination of that
and the fact that Sirius had told him the older man had been avoiding his gaze in all their D.A.D.A.
classes since the funeral that angered him. Didn’t he know how much Sirius wanted to have some
part of his uncle to hold onto?

“Here! I think I found something!” It was Dorcas who called them all to her from where she’d been
searching in the bedroom. Remus bumped his head as he moved to get up hastily from where he’d
been looking under the sink in the bathroom, and hurried to her. When he reached them, Sirius was
already there, peering into the closet, where Dorcas was wedged. Her wand was lit and pointed at
the back corner, toward some kind of drawing that Remus couldn’t quite make out.

“Here,” she was telling Sirius. “Is that—”

“A greek letter,” Sirius confirmed, his eyebrows furrowing. “Lambda.”

“Strange,” Remus said, craning his neck to try to get a good view of the letter, though there was no
space for three people in the closet. “Do you reckon Alphard put it there, or someone else?”

“Must’ve been him,” Sirius said, frowning. “He lived here for thirty years. He could’ve removed it
easily if it was put there before him.”

“I wonder what it means,” Marlene mused from behind them. James and Peter had also crowded in,
both trying to look over their heads at the symbol.

“No idea,” Sirius said, frowning thoughtfully. “I feel as if I’ve seen it somewhere before, though.
Other than learning its meaning from one of my tutors as a kid, I mean.”

“Well, it’s something, isn’t it?” Peter asked as Dorcas and Sirius extricated themselves from the
closet and allowed the others to peer in. “Something of your uncle’s, I mean, to hold onto.”

“Yeah, I suppose it is,” Sirius said. “He was here.”

“And now it’s yours,” Marlene said, giving him a small smile. “Time to start thinking about how
to add your own touch to it.”

“Yeah,” Sirius said again. He looked a little nauseous, however, and Remus knew he was
overwhelmed. “Not today, though. Can we go somewhere?”

“Sure, of course,” James said, looking concerned, obviously catching the expression on Sirius’
face, too. “Where?”

“Anywhere,” Sirius replied.

James took him at his word, and instead of leading them towards a pub or restaurant, they ended up
wandering around the London streets. They stopped in several shops, including a bookstore that
Dorcas dragged them into for a few moments and James dragged them all out of, to both Remus
and Dorcas’ disappointment. Unbeknownst to the rest, Remus slid the book he’d been trying to
skim into his pocket on his way out, feeling only a twinge of guilt at the action.

James finally seemed to find what he was looking for several minutes later when he turned
abruptly down a side street toward a park. Luckily, it was empty of children, or they would’ve
looked very strange, a bunch of seventeen and eighteen-year-olds playing on the children’s play
structures. However, the downside of this was that the play structure was probably abandoned due
to its rickety appearance, and Remus wasn’t completely sure that they should be putting their
weight on some of the equipment.

James and Marlene obviously didn’t have the same qualms, however, as they immediately engaged
in a rather aggressive back and forth on the see-saw. Dorcas laughed and took to the monkey bars
while Remus hovered awkwardly, unsure of himself. He’d never played in one of these as a child
as far as he could remember. Sirius nudged him and smiled, gesturing towards the swings.

“Those look like they could break at any moment,” Remus said, grimacing. Sirius grinned.
“What’s life without a bit of risk?”

Remus rolled his eyes and told himself he was only doing it to cheer Sirius up, then crossed to a
swing. At that point, he wasn’t sure what exactly he should do, but Sirius began to swing
confidently, so Remus copied his movements. Soon enough, he began to see the appeal. The
weightless feeling was quite spectacular. Sirius swung higher and higher, so much so that Remus
was half-worried that he’d go right around the top. Still, he couldn’t worry too much, because
Sirius let out a whoop of joy that was just too endearing, and Remus laughed.

Remus was still unprepared when Sirius leapt off the swing, however, making a great arc into the
air and back to the ground, landing on his feet but stumbling a few steps, then turning to grin at
Remus. “Jump!”

“Are you crazy?” Remus called down toward Sirius indignantly, clinging to the chains of the swing
like a lifeline and completely forgetting to move his legs to propel the swing higher. Sirius beamed
at him and Remus gave him and the space in front of the swing a doubtful look. Sighing, he closed
his eyes briefly, steeling himself, then opened them and pushed himself off the swing at the highest
point. He overshot it a bit and ended up collapsing forward, knocking Sirius over in the process.
Both boys tumbled to the ground in a heap, Sirius laughing and Remus feeling startled, his
breathing still fast from the feeling of soaring through the air unsupported.

“Well, this feels familiar,” Sirius commented, grinning from underneath Remus, who rolled his
eyes and scrambled to his feet, reaching his hand out for Sirius and pulling him up, too.

Before Remus could think of a sarcastic retort, James called from behind them: “Padfoot, Moony!
You’ve got to try the slide!”

Remus looked around at the slide, a big enclosed tube that had long cracks down its plastic sides in
some places. He groaned and Sirius laughed again, slapping him on the back before racing off
towards the play structure, Remus walking reluctantly in his wake.

....

The Marauders parted from Dorcas and Marlene at one o’clock, the girls going off to Dorcas’
house while the Marauders headed for James’, where they’d planned to spend the rest of the
afternoon and evening. Remus was rather disgruntled as they arrived, feeling a bit jostled by the
rest of the boys.

Fleamont was in the kitchen when the boys entered the house, and he greeted them. “You boys
were gone long! How was the flat?”

“It was good,” Sirius replied, grinning and ducking away from James as he continued to try to
shove him for an earlier comment. “We hung out in London for a bit afterward.”

Fleamont gave James and Sirius an affectionately amused look, taking in the dirt and grass stains
on their clothes. “Where, exactly? A petting zoo?”

“A playground,” Remus said, sitting down on a chair and getting out his wand to scourgify the
grass stains on the knees of his own trousers.

“Remus is grumpy because he got stuck in the slide,” Sirius said, grinning and glancing at Remus,
giving him such an affectionate look that Remus had to work hard to keep the disgruntled look on
his face.

“I didn’t get stuck in the slide,” Remus responded, preoccupying himself with cleaning his jeans.
“You got me stuck in the slide by pushing me into it the wrong way around.”

Fleamont chuckled. “Sounds like you lads had lots of fun,” he said. “I assume you’re all staying for
dinner?”

“If that’s not a problem,” Remus responded quickly. James and Sirius shot him identical looks
which clearly said, “shut up, you’re staying.” Fleamont smiled.

“Of course not,” he said. “It’ll probably be around seven. I’ll be in the library if anything
disastrous happens in the meantime. Just shout.”

“Thanks, dad,” James said, grinning, and Fleamont waved to them, departing.

“What even is there to do at your house in the winter, Prongs?” Peter asked, raising his eyebrows
at James once Fleamont was gone. “I’m not playing Quidditch, it’s too cold, and I’m definitely not
swimming.”

Remus murmured his agreement, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. He was tired, and
the physical exertion at the park, plus having to be extricated from the slide, had left him aching a
bit.

“Well,” James said, sounding suddenly confused about what he’d invited them to do, too. “Padfoot
and I sometimes transform and run around when we get bored. But Moony’s here, so we can’t do
that.”

“You can if you want to,” Remus said, eyes still closed. “I’m tired. I could just nap.”

“No, no,” Sirius insisted. “We should do something together. You feeling alright, Moony?”

Remus opened his eyes and looked up at the other boys, shrugging. “Just a bit sore is all, and tired.
M’fine.”

“I have something that’ll help,” Sirius said, giving Remus a sheepish smile. “If you want, that is.”
Remus gave Sirius a suspicious look.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes. Remus looked at him with narrowed eyes, and Sirius,
possibly to escape from Remus’ disapproving gaze, turned and bounded up the stairs. They could
hear him opening a door, and rummaging around inside.

“What’s he up to?” James asked, looking at Remus. Remus shook his head, at a loss as much as the
rest of them. After a moment, Sirius was back with them, holding up a bag of what Remus
immediately knew was—

“Pot?” he spluttered incredulously. “Where did you get pot?”

“Oi, keep your voice down!” James hissed, looking towards the library door, clearly worried that
one of his parents would hear, but he looked back at Sirius suspiciously, too.

“It’s not that hard to get,” Sirius said, shrugging nonchalantly. “I figured if we wanted to use it just
for fun, you know, we shouldn’t use Moony’s stash, since it’s for him. So I got some of my own.”

Remus, despite himself, was a little bit touched by this gesture, no less because Sirius hadn’t
advertised it as soon as he’d done it. Then, he wondered when Sirius had gotten it, and how many
times he’d used it without telling the other boys. He obviously knew that Sirius smoked cigarettes,
a habit he’d taken up more than a year ago, but perhaps that wasn’t all he was smoking when he
went off on his own.

“What about it, Moony?” Sirius asked, giving him a smile. Remus looked around at the other two
boys, who were both looking at him, too, now, expressions of excitement on their faces.

“Well,” Remus said, caught off guard but realizing that he couldn’t see a better way to spend his
afternoon just then. “Sure, then.”

“Great!” Sirius exclaimed, grinning. “You’re still the best at rolling, anyway.”

“Wait, we can’t do it here, though,” James said. “You know how many times my mum has told
you not to smoke in the house, Padfoot. That definitely applies to pot, too. We need to go
somewhere on the hill. We can cast a warming charm.”

And so the four Marauders trekked up the hill towards the patch of trees they knew would hide
them from view and found a small clearing where they settled down. Remus expertly rolled the
joint and Sirius lit it with his lighter. Remus assumed he carried the lighter around with him only
because he thought it looked cool, as he could easily light his cigarettes with his wand.

Once Remus was properly high, he relaxed back against a tree, breathing out a slow breath of relief.
It took the edge off the ache in his bones, and he was glad of it. Still, he was tired, so tired, and
after listening lazily to the slow conversation of the other boys for a little while, he fell into a doze.

When Remus woke, he knew that several hours had passed. They were still in the clearing, and the
warming charm was clearly wearing off, as the cold air pricked at him. His head rested on
something warm, and he looked up to find that his head was in Sirius’ lap. He wondered how he’d
gotten there, then wondered if Peter or James thought it was odd. Looking over, however, he
registered that they were dozing, too, both leaning against their respective trees.

Slowly, he sat up, taking in the low light. The sun had already set, and the clearing was dark,
shadows of the trees on the ground around them. Remus shivered.

“Morning, Moony.” Remus started at the sound of Sirius’ voice next to him. He hadn’t realized the
other boy was awake. Looking toward him, he saw Sirius’ amused grin as he ran a sleepy hand
through his hair. His grey eyes were dilated, though whether that was because of the darkness or
because he was still high, Remus didn’t know.

“Hi,” Remus said, still feeling a bit stoned, himself. “When did you all fall asleep?”

“Prongs and Wormtail zonked out only a bit after you did,” Sirius said, stretching. “Don’t worry,
you only got comfortable after they were already asleep. I fell asleep a bit after that. I suppose we
were all more tired than we thought.”

“It was a big day,” Remus said. “How are you feeling?”

“Absolutely fine, now,” Sirius said, smiling lazily at him. “You?” Remus chuckled softly.

“Better,” he said. “You had a good idea about the pot.”

“I have lots of good ideas,” Sirius said, grinning. He leaned forward unexpectedly and pressed a
kiss to Remus’ lips. Remus sighed into it, but his conscious brain caught up quickly, and he jerked
back, looking again at James and Peter, who were still snoozing peacefully. He gave Sirius a
reprimanding look, but Sirius was still smiling at him mischievously.
“We should wake them up,” Remus said, shivering again and gesturing towards James and Peter.
“Get back inside.”

“If you insist,” Sirius said, grinning and clambering to his feet, stretching out a hand to help Remus
up. Remus took it gratefully, stumbling slightly as he got to his feet. Once Sirius was sure Remus
was steady on his feet, he walked over to prod James and Peter. James woke with a start, always
having been a light sleeper, while Peter took a bit longer, grumbling at Sirius as he poked him in
the side insistently. Eventually, however, they were all up and made their way down the hill, James
walking ahead of all of them, clearly wanting to get back into the warmth as soon as he could.

When they arrived back at the Potter house, the clock read five, so they still had time to spare
before dinner. They settled into the sitting room, James producing a bag of crisps from the kitchen
which they passed between them, talking lazily. Remus felt something poking him from the inner
pocket of his jacket and remembered the book that he’d taken from the bookstore in London, but
he didn’t remove it. It wasn’t the sort that he wanted to read in front of the other boys. Instead, he
settled on the couch, trying to resist the urge to fall asleep again.

By six, Euphemia was in the kitchen, beginning to make dinner, and she conscripted all of the boys
to help her. Miraculously, there were no injuries in the process, and under her strict guidance, the
product was delicious, as always.

“Looks amazing,” Fleamont said as he settled down, beaming around at all of them. “Good job, all
of you. And, of course, my dear,” he said, bringing Euphemia’s hand to his lips. “To you, for
wrangling them all.”

Euphemia smiled. “It was no easy feat,” she said. “So, are you all looking forward to your last
term?”

They all shrugged. “Looking forward to the castle and Quidditch,” Sirius answered. “Not so much
the N.E.W.T. work, though.”

“I’m sure you’ll all manage,” Fleamont said. “As long as you don’t get into too much trouble,
you’ll all have sufficient time to study, I’m sure.” He didn’t even sound stern, Remus thought, only
amused as he looked around at them.

“We haven’t been getting up to much this year,” Peter replied. “James has been busy with being
Head Boy and Quidditch Captain. And I suppose Lily’s been keeping him in line.”

He grinned, then seemed to realize his mistake a moment too late, sending a horrified look towards
James, whose expression had darkened at the mention of Lily. Remus and Sirius exchanged a
regretful glance. Unfortunately for James, neither of his parents was stupid, and they hadn’t missed
the quick succession of unspoken communications that passed through the group of four boys.

“Lily?” Euphemia asked, raising her eyebrows. “The Head Girl?”

James glanced up at his mother, swallowing in a way that made Remus wonder if there was
something sharp down his throat, and plastered an unconvincingly neutral look on his face. “Yeah,
she’s very passionate about the rules,” he said. “She can be quite a stick in the mud.”

“Hmm,” Euphemia said, clearly unconvinced. “Wasn’t it her who you were using Edelweiss to
write to every other day at the end of the summer?”

James glared at his mother. “Yes,” he mumbled, stabbing at his food with his fork rather
aggressively.
“Did you two have some sort of falling out, then?” Fleamont asked, exchanging a look with his
wife.

“No,” James said petulantly, his eyes on his food rather than his parents. Remus, for his part, was
surprised that James had managed to keep his infatuation with Lily quiet from his parents all these
years, as he’d never shut up about her for at least the whole of fifth year. Still, if he’d indeed been
exchanging nearly daily letters with her at the end of the summer as Euphemia had said, they
must’ve had an inkling.

Euphemia glanced toward Sirius and Remus, raising her eyebrows, and both tried to keep their
faces blank and innocent, not giving away anything. Euphemia rolled her eyes, obviously resigning
herself to not knowing, as Fleamont smiled slightly, looking amused. Peter was still looking guilty.

After dinner, Remus said goodbye to his friends, hugging all of them and thanking Euphemia and
Fleamont profusely for having him over for dinner. Euphemia was still giving James searching
looks intermittently, which he was carefully avoiding, and Remus knew she’d be cornering him
after they left. Perhaps it would do him good to talk to her about the situation with Lily. Perhaps
Euphemia could snap him out of the sulk he’d been in since November.

When Remus stepped out of the front door with Peter, who he’d promised to apparate home, he
looked back to share one last glance with Sirius, who gave him a special smile, and Remus grinned
back.

....

The next day, Sirius turned up outside the Lupins’ house, skulking in his Animagus form in the
bushes outside their window. He’d done this nearly every day for the holidays, and while some of
the time he’d been over with the knowledge of Remus’ parents, most of the time he hadn’t. He just
turned up, uninvited, but always very, very welcome in Remus’ book. Remus smiled when he
spotted Sirius through his window and went downstairs to let him in, careful to listen to make sure
his parents wouldn’t be out to see the black dog when he did so. When Sirius was safely in Remus’
room, he transformed back, and Remus smiled at him.

“Hey,” he said simply. Sirius grinned and walked over to kiss him.

“Hey.”

They spent the afternoon lounging, enjoying the rare, cold sunlight which filtered through the
window in Remus’ room. Sirius eventually settled with his head on Remus’ stomach, eyes closed,
while Remus read the book he’d nicked in London, one hand playing with Sirius’ hair. The book,
which he’d hidden from the rest during their excursion, was a short nonfictional work on gay
people throughout history. Remus had spotted it on the shelf and hadn’t been able to resist.
Certainly there were no books on this topic in the Hogwarts library, and he liked the idea that a
book could contain even a word about someone like him. Turning a page with one hand, the other
still caught up in Sirius’ locks, he froze. His eyes scanned down the page, once, twice, hands
stilling. Sirius made a small noise of protest, demanding Remus’ continued attention.

“Sirius,” Remus said calmly, still staring at the page.

“What?” Sirius asked, eyes closed, still pouting over the fact that Remus was no longer playing
with his hair.

“I think I found out what the lambda means in your uncle’s flat,” Remus said. Sirius raised his
head, eyes suddenly alert.
Remus turned the book towards him to show him the page he’d been reading. A large greek letter
lambda was shown in the middle of the page. The caption read: The Greek letter lambda was first
used as a symbol for lesbian and gay rights by the New York Gay Activist Alliance in 1970 but
became internationally popular in 1974 after the International Gay Rights Congress in Edinburgh,
Scotland adopted it.

Sirius’ eyes flicked across the page, then he reached out to trace the thick black lines of the letter
with his finger. Finally, he laid his head back on Remus’ stomach, looking pensive. “I remembered
where I’d seen it recently,” he said. “It was the summer after I ran away from home, on the
London underground. It was drawn in sharpie on one of the windows. I suppose someone must
have drawn it there as a symbol of protest.”

“Not protest,” Remus corrected gently, brushing a strand of hair off of Sirius’ forehead as he
looked back to the book. “Change. Enlightenment, this book says. I think it’s about showing that
we’re already here, whether people like it or not.”

“Funny, then, that Alphard drew it in the back of his closet,” Sirius said, his voice dripping with
irony. Remus made a small sound of agreement at the back of his throat but didn’t reply. Sirius
looked up towards his face again. “Where’d you get that book?”

“That bookshop we stopped at in London.”

“But you didn’t buy anything,” Sirius said, confused. Then a grin broke across his face. “Did you
nick it?”

Remus didn’t even bother to look ashamed. “Yeah.”

Sirius pushed himself up and flipped over to press a kiss to Remus’ surprised lips. He pulled back,
smiling. “It’s so hot when you do something delinquent.”

Remus laughed. “I’ve been doing delinquent things with you for years,” he pointed out, reaching
up to cup Sirius’ face in his hands, as Sirius threw a leg over Remus’ lap to straddle him.

“Yeah,” Sirius said, kissing Remus briefly again. “And you’ve been hot for years. The sooner you
accept that fact, the better.”

“Oh, shut up,” Remus said, pulling Sirius toward him and occupying his lips for better purposes
than talking.
 1978: Interrupted
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Boarding the Hogwarts Express to go back to school for the final time was a bittersweet experience
for James. Euphemia actually cried when she and Fleamont dropped James and Sirius off on the
platform, and James had to keep himself from doing the same, wrapping his arms around her
comfortingly. He was taller than her now, of course, and it felt strange to tower over his mother,
cradling her in his arms as she sniffed slightly, head on his shoulder.

“Alright,” Euphemia said finally, pulling back and patting his cheek affectionately with one hand
while she pulled out her handkerchief and dabbed at her wet eyes with the other. “Off you go,
then.”

“I’ll see you soon, mum,” James said, smiling down at her. She nodded, turning to give Sirius
another hug, too.

“See you soon, dad,” James said to Fleamont, turning to his father and giving him a hug. Fleamont
smiled at him as he drew back.

“Make the most of your last term, son,” he said. “It’ll be over sooner than you think.”

“I know,” James replied, looking around at the platform wistfully. The last six and a half years had
passed far too quickly for his liking. Still, the day that his parents had first dropped him off on this
platform when he’d been eleven felt so long ago, too. It was as if the time between then and now
had been decades, and also only the blink of an eye.

Behind his father’s shoulder, James spotted a head of dark red hair and felt his pulse begin to race
instinctively, remembering the first time he’d ever seen Lily, when she’d emerged in his and
Sirius’ compartment on their first journey to Hogwarts. When James had first seen her, he’d been
struck by all of her contrasting colors, like a little bird with bright feathers. She’d only truly grown
into them in the past few years, James thought. Her pale cheeks had gradually saturated with color,
her figure had filled out, and her bright green eyes had adopted a warm sparkle. In the past year and
a half, she’d begun to smile more. Even now, as she turned around and caught sight of him, James
thought she looked more beautiful than ever despite the pang that went through him at the sight of
her.

Lily gave him a soft smile as her eyes met his, but James couldn’t bring himself to return it, though
his gaze wasn’t hostile, either. He just looked at her for a moment, unable to tear his eyes away.
Despite all that had happened, the sight of her was like a tonic to him. Her green eyes, her red hair,
the shape of her lips, and the generous curves of her body…James ached to look at her, a mix of
longing and hurt rolled into one irresistible package. He’d never thought her perfect, had fallen for
her despite all his history of finding her rigid and hypocritical, and yet something about her flaws
made her ever the more captivating. He’d fallen in love with her rigidness alongside the moments
where he saw her soften, fallen in love with the contrast that was Lily Evans. Even now, when she
was breaking his heart, he loved her still, seeing her contrast in the way that she pulled away and
drew closer to him at the same time.

“That’s her, isn’t it?”

James started. He hadn’t heard his mum stop beside him, hadn’t noticed her following his gaze. He
cleared his throat and turned away from Lily, looking back towards the steam engine.

“Yeah,” he said, reluctantly meeting his mother’s gaze as she gave him a searching look. “That’s
Lily.”

Euphemia nodded and gave James a soft smile. “She’s beautiful,” she said. James nodded,
avoiding her gaze.

When his mother had cornered him with questions about Lily after dinner that night when Remus
and Peter had come over, he’d broken down quickly and told her everything. It’d been a relief,
really, for his mother to listen with her eyes intent upon him, unwavering, then allowing himself to
be held by her, like when he’d been a child. He’d cried that night, not only during his story, but
also in response to her words of advice. He trusted none more than her to give it, but it still pained
him to hear what she had to tell him, which was that he couldn’t change what would happen now,
only his response to it.

“Love is precious,” Euphemia had told him. “And you love her with all your heart, I can see that
well enough. Whatever she’s thinking now, whatever she’s feeling, you have to let her come to you.
You can’t influence the way the river flows. And if she doesn’t come to you, beta, you will
eventually have to stop waiting and protect your heart.”

He hoped his mother wouldn’t tell him again to protect his heart now, because then he really might
start crying on the platform. It was easier said than done. James had always worn his heart upon
his sleeve, and that had always worked for him, too, until Lily Evans. Still, he didn’t want to
protect his heart from her. He’d handed it to her long ago and he didn’t want to have to take it back
now, he just wanted her to accept it, and perhaps give hers in return.

“I love you, beta,” Euphemia Potter said after a moment, patting him on the cheek again. “Now,
you should get settled on the train. Go on.”

“Bye mum, bye dad,” James called as he followed Sirius onto the train, waving out the window
briefly. Sirius shouted his goodbyes too, waving eagerly, and Euphemia and Fleamont waved back
until both boys headed toward their familiar compartment. Surprisingly, it was still empty. James
threw himself down in a seat by the window and Sirius followed suit, sitting across from him and
putting his feet up.

“So what did your mum say about Evans, anyway?” Sirius asked James, leaning back luxuriously
and peering at him. “I know you two had a heart-to-heart after Peter let her name slip at dinner a
few nights ago.”

“She mostly listened,” James replied, fiddling with the armrest beside him. “But she said that I’ve
got to wait to let Lily approach me. Whatever she’s thinking, she obviously needs to sort it out for
herself.”

“Mm-hm,” Sirius intoned. “Just don’t wait too long, mate. You’ve already been waiting for Lily
Evans for almost two years, you know.”

“I haven’t been waiting for her for two years,” James defended. “I thought about other girls in that
time. I went on a date with Miranda last year.”

Sirius let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah,” he said. “And she rejected you afterward because you still
had feelings for Evans. One date doesn’t constitute not waiting.”

“Oh, yeah?” James replied, stung now. “What about you, Casanova? You hooked up with Marlene
for a year but you’ve never been on so much as a date, or in any sort of relationship.”

Rather than look offended, Sirius shifted uncomfortably under James’ gaze. James’ eyebrows shot
up. “Unless there’s something you need to tell me,” he said, a grin spreading across his face. “You
were missing an awful lot this break. Were you off with someone? You can’t have really been with
Moony the whole time.”

Sirius was saved from answering by the compartment door sliding open and Remus walking in.
Sirius looked immensely relieved to see him and grinned. “Moony!”

“Hey Padfoot, Prongs,” Remus said, smiling. “You’re here early.”

“Or you’re late,” James said, smiling but not bothering to get up. He’d seen Remus only days ago,
after all, and there was no point in fussing. “Padfoot was just about to explain to me why he acted
so shifty when I mentioned his love life.”

Remus’ eyebrows lifted, and he glanced at Sirius before settling himself down next to him. “Was
he, then?” he asked nonchalantly. James saw Sirius’ eyes drift to Remus, then back to James. Then,
he set his jaw and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’m not acting shifty,” he said stonily, raising his chin to look James in the eyes. “My love life’s
pathetic, Prongs, whatever. Doesn’t change the fact that at least I got some action last year,
something you were too busy mooning over Evans to do.”

James narrowed his eyes at Sirius, scanning his face curiously until he sighed and relented. This
response was characteristic of his friend, at least. Perhaps he’d imagined the earlier shifty look, as
it wasn’t like Sirius to keep things from him...well, not really. Some things, of course, Sirius kept to
himself, like details about his home life before he’d moved in with James’ family. He’d kept that
quiet for a good two years, and he still never told them everything. But other than that, James had
always taken Remus to be the secretive one and Sirius as an open book. He couldn’t be lying now,
James thought.

“I’m not going to wait for her forever,” James said finally, reluctantly returning to their earlier
topic. “But I’m hoping a little while longer will be enough to get her to come to me.”

“I think she’ll talk to you,” Remus said. “Maybe the break helped her sort out her head.”

“I hope so,” James said, leaning back and sighing. The train began to move, and, right on cue, Peter
ran into the compartment, looking out of breath. James grinned at him as he shook the rain that had
just begun to fall outside the window off his jacket.

“Hey, Wormtail,” the three other Marauders all chorused, and Peter grunted in response, shaking
his short blonde hair and sprinkling them all with raindrops. They laughed, settling in for the ride
back to Hogwarts.

....

James wasn’t sure what it was about the new term, but it felt more difficult than usual to settle
back into old patterns. It was as if everyone was on edge, knowing that this term was the last
they’d spend in the castle, and they couldn’t act as though they weren’t all clinging to the time they
had left by their fingernails. Talk of what they were to do after Hogwarts was rampant among the
seventh years, too, and though it seemed like no one really wanted to talk about it, they were all
drawn to the subject.

“James,” Lily said one day in the library, looking up from her books at him. “You never did tell me
what you wanted to do after Hogwarts.”

It was a recent development, the fact that they’d been studying with one another once again, a part
of the thawing James felt between himself and Lily during the first few weeks of term. Despite the
fact that neither had brought up the subject of their last conflict, James sensed Lily’s desire to be
nearer to him again. That smile on the platform was the first sign of the door opening again, it
seemed, and it gave him hope.

“Oh,” James replied, reluctantly turning his mind toward the potential of leaving the castle again
and running a hand through his hair. “Well, I’m not positive yet. I’m looking at a couple of
applications at the moment.”

This was another new development in their last term at Hogwarts: the fact that applications were
soon to be due for many jobs, and their professors had begun their classes that term with the
encouragement to start thinking about applying to places.

“Like what?” Lily asked, tilting her head as she gazed at him inquisitively.

“Well, there’s being an Auror,” James said, letting out a sigh. “It’d be useful to have those sorts of
skills now that things are going the way they are.”

“You don’t sound particularly excited about that,” Lily commented, lifting a brow, a slight smile
playing across her lips. James groaned internally as he tried not to fall prey to the look she was
giving him. It really wasn’t fair for her to look at him like that after everything.

“Not particularly,” he admitted, pushing his feelings down firmly. “But it might be more important
to be of use than to be the happiest I could be.”

“And what’s the happiest that you could be?” Lily inquired.

James sighed and looked her directly in the eyes for another moment, a deep longing rising up in
him again. Her cheeks pinked slightly as he looked at her, as if she was just now realizing what her
question had left her open to, but her gaze didn’t rebuff him, either. Her eyes were cautious, but
James hoped he wasn’t imagining that they held the same longing that he knew must be in his.
Finally, James smiled despite himself.

“I think I might like to be a Healer,” he admitted.

“A Healer?” Lily asked, looking at him intently. James nodded, smiling wider.

“I’ve done a lot of reading on Healing, and it’s really interesting,” he said. “Plus, it seems like a
good thing to do. It’s a nice thought, going to work every day and being able to fix what’s wrong
with people, to help them. I think that might feel better than fighting people all the time.”

Lily didn’t respond immediately once James finished, and when silence overtook them, James felt
almost overwhelmed by the look she was giving him. Her green eyes seemed to look right through
him, appearing to see something he himself didn’t even know was there. The soft smile on her face
as she gazed at him felt like a warm caress, and again, James thought that perhaps it wasn’t fair of
her to look at him like that, not when there was so much distance between them still. There was
something about her look that said many things, and yet nothing at all. Finally, Lily spoke.

“There are many ways to fight a war,” she said simply, smiling at him. Her voice sounded almost
breathless, and he gave her a small nod, looking back down at his work quickly, not trusting his
voice for a moment. When he looked back up, the look was gone, and he cleared his throat
roughly.
“So, are you putting in applications to be a potioneer, then?”

“Yes,” Lily said briskly. “I’m applying to a couple of different places. Hopefully at least one of
them accepts me. One is a program at St. Mungo’s, actually, the Antidote Research Center.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“Well, if I get it, we could have lunches together at Mungo’s and things,” Lily said, smiling at him.
“If you become a Trainee Healer, that is.” James couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows at her, and
Lily blushed, looking away from him at her hands. “Us, Dorcas, and Hestia, I mean.” The
burgeoning hope that had blossomed in James’ chest deflated slightly again.

“Sure, Lily.”

He turned his head back down to his work and they didn’t speak again until Lily announced she
was going back to the dormitory. James watched her leave, sighing as he packed up his own things.
He’d told Lily that he was staying later to work but he didn’t feel much like working any longer.
He stood up, grabbed his books, and strode out of the library. Instead of following Lily’s path
towards Gryffindor Tower, however, he headed down towards the entrance to the Gryffindor
locker rooms. It was dark and cold outside, sure, but flying always cleared his head. Perhaps it
would help him sort out the deeply confusing conversation he’d just had with Lily.

When he reached the locker rooms, he pushed the door open, walking in and heading towards the
lockers, where he kept his broom. Suddenly, he heard a noise. James furrowed his brow. He hadn’t
expected someone else to be in here, not at this time of night. Perhaps another one of his teammates
had had the same idea as him, or someone was retrieving their equipment for mending. He strode
towards the direction of the showers, where the noise had come from, his tread soft on the ground.
Looking around the corner, James’ mouth fell open at the sight that greeted him.

It wasn’t Georgie or Marlene returning equipment, not Kingsley or Liam taking their brooms out
for a late-night flying session, nor was it Emmeline, mending her Keeper’s gloves late at night.
Instead, it was Sirius, but he wasn’t alone, and he wasn’t doing anything related to Quidditch.
Instead, he was pressed up against the tiled wall of the shower, Remus standing in front of him,
kissing him fiercely.

James blinked. The scene in front of him didn’t change. Sirius’ fingers were caught in the wool of
Remus’ sweater at his waist, one of Remus’ hands cupping Sirius’ jaw as they kissed. James’
mouth gaped open, his eyes flicking over them once, twice, three times, trying to make his brain
process what he was seeing. Remus was kissing Sirius. Sirius was kissing Remus. They were
holding each other like life itself depended upon it, and James hadn’t known...James hadn’t seen
any of this coming.

The sound of a crash startled James from his trance, and he realized that he’d dropped the books
he’d been holding, causing them to fall to the ground. The sound caused Remus and Sirius to break
apart, too, looking around. It was Sirius who saw James first, and a great stillness came over his
face. When Remus turned to look at him, almost in slow motion, his face went white, and he
spluttered out:

“J—James.”

James just continued to blink at them, completely caught off guard. His mouth opened and shut
once, trying to figure out what to say, but he gave up. He wanted to say something good, to say
anything that would wipe the frozen look off of Sirius’ face, but he couldn’t. They stood there
staring at each other for a full minute before James was able to speak.
“Uh,” he got out. “Uh-um, so…” It was pathetic, he knew, but he was used to having a bit more
time to process these things. When it’d been Dorcas and Marlene, Dorcas had come to him and told
him, so James had had some warning before they’d started snogging.

“So—so what’s going on?” James finally forced out, his voice unnaturally high, and he could’ve
kicked himself as soon as he said it. He sounded like the biggest dolt who’d ever lived. He’d just
seen what was going on.

“Uh, well,” Remus said, glancing over at Sirius, who was still frozen, staring at James. Remus
looked concerned at the look on Sirius’ face and nudged him slightly with his elbow. Sirius
seemed to wake out of a deep trance, and he looked at Remus, who raised his eyebrows at him
questioningly, a look which James took to be asking: Are you alright? They’d always been
especially good at communicating with each other nonverbally, James thought through his haze,
even when neither he nor Peter could figure out what they meant. James had always known that
Sirius and Remus had had some sort of strange bond that no one else could understand, but
this...he’d never expected this.

“We’re—” Sirius started, looking back at James. He glanced at Remus, sharing another look before
taking in a deep breath and looking at James again. “We’re sort of...together.”

“Since when?” James asked, his voice still sounding high and squeaky.

“December,” Remus replied, running a sheepish hand through his hair, which James noticed was
already unusually messy. Had Sirius been running his fingers through it? “We were going to tell
you, James, we were just waiting for—” He looked around at Sirius helplessly, then back at James.
“The right time, I suppose.”

“The right time?” James repeated, feeling overwhelmed. He took a few steps back and sat down
heavily on the bench next to the lockers, running a hand through his hair. Remus took a few steps
towards him, leaning on the wall and looking at James, an expression of concern on his face. Sirius
kept his distance.

“Prongs, I know this must be a lot for you to take in,” Remus said, glancing back at Sirius as he
said it. James shook his head, looking down at his hands and trying to gather his thoughts. All
those years of wondering about Sirius’ and Remus’ relationship, of trying to put his finger on what
struck him as odd about it. Now, it was like everything was clicking into place with almost
alarming rapidity.

“Actually,” he said after a moment, looking up at Remus. “It makes a lot of sense.”

“It—it does?” Remus asked, blinking in confusion.

James nodded slowly. “I think I’ve been watching something develop between the two of you for
six and a half years. I just never understood what it was before now.”

He looked up at Sirius, who shifted slightly on his feet and looked directly back at James instead
of avoiding his gaze. He still looked scared, but there was hope in his eyes now, too.

“How long have you two felt this way about each other?” James asked.

Remus and Sirius shared a look, then Remus shrugged. “Hard to say,” he said. “Years, though, for
me.”

James nodded, taking it in, then looked at Sirius. Sirius glanced at Remus again, then back to
James. “Forever, probably,” he said simply. James nodded. He bit back the question he itched to
ask, tried to push back the hurt that welled up in him as he thought about how long Sirius had kept
this part of himself a secret from him, how long he must have suffered in silence.

“Well,” he said instead, a smile spreading across his face. “I suppose it took you two long enough
to get your heads out of your arses, then.”

“Does that mean you’re alright with it?” Sirius blurted out, staring at James, relief showing all over
his features. James snorted out a laugh.

“It’s hilarious how both you two and Dorcas and Marlene asked me that, like I need to give my
approval,” he said. “But yeah, for the record, I’m alright with it. The more I think about it, the
more fucking thrilled I get, actually. It’s still processing.”

“Yeah?” Remus asked, smiling now. James looked up at him and grinned.

“Yeah,” he said, getting to his feet and striding over to Remus to pull him into a hug. Remus
laughed, patting James on the back as he hugged him. When he released Remus, James looked over
to Sirius.

“Come here, Padfoot,” he said gently, grinning at Sirius, who was still hovering a little bit away.
He met Sirius halfway, as Sirius walked towards him cautiously, and pulled him into a hug. Sirius
was several inches shorter than James, but James refrained from lifting him up in his embrace, as
he sensed that this wasn’t the moment. Instead, James held onto him for a long time, noticing as he
did so that Sirius was shaking ever so slightly, and hoping that it would go away. Finally, he pulled
back, putting his hands on Sirius’ shoulders.

“You’re my brother,” he said, looking Sirius directly in the eye. “I love you. You know that,
right?”

A wide grin spread across Sirius’ face. “Oh, sod off, Prongs,” he said. “Don’t make me
emotional.”

“You’ve got to say it back,” Remus said from behind them, his voice sounding amused, and James
could imagine the snarky grin on his face as he looked at Sirius. Sirius rolled his eyes and laughed.

“I love you, too, James,” he said. “You’re my brother.”

“Good,” James said, grinning.

“Good,” Remus said, clapping his hands together, as both Sirius and James turned back to him.
“Well, I’ve got an essay to write so I should be getting back to the tower.”

“Oh, yeah,” James said, smirking. “Sorry for getting in the way of your snogging time, Moony.”

“Fuck off, Prongs,” Remus said, rolling his eyes and heading towards the door. When it shut
behind him, James glanced over at Sirius, whose eyes were still on the doorway.

“Walk?” James suggested, nodding towards the exit. Sirius seemed to start, looking back at him,
and gave him a nod.

They spent the first few minutes in silence as they left the Gryffindor locker room and walked
down through the lower parts of the castle. James had decided to take the opportunity to patrol the
dungeons, and lit his wand to illuminate their path, which was only lit by dim torches in their
brackets on the walls. These days, more eyes out could only help. When he was looking around a
corner, it was Sirius who broke the silence first.
“Did you really have no idea, Prongs?”

James glanced over at him. “I really had no idea,” he admitted, shooting Sirius a slightly
embarrassed smile. “You may have picked up on this before, Padfoot, but I’m not the most
observant of people.”

“Mm-hm,” Sirius said, a smile in his voice. “Yeah, it’s just what you said about thinking that mine
and Moony’s friendship was odd—”

“I never really knew what to make of it,” James said, shrugging. He glanced over at Sirius
inquisitively. “When did you figure it out for yourself, then? Has it really been forever?”

“I think I’ve sort of loved him forever, in one way or another,” Sirius admitted softly. “But
knowing about it took a lot longer. It came gradually. The first time I really started to realize was in
fifth, but I pushed it down. Then again at the beginning of sixth, and again, denial. It was only
really last summer that I admitted it to myself.”

“When did you and Moony tell each other?” James asked.

“It’s sort of complicated,” Sirius admitted. “But everything sort of started around November,
around when Dorcas and Marlene got together. We first talked about it upfront and all in
December, though.”

“A long time coming, then,” James said, smiling. He wasn’t going to ask for the details, not unless
Sirius wanted to give them to him, that was. Perhaps they’d come later. He glanced over at Sirius,
the smile fading from his face. “Who else knows?”

“Marlene, Dorcas, and Lily,” Sirius replied promptly. “Marlene’s the only person I told, though,
because she came out to me first. She sort of kickstarted the whole thing, anyway.”

There was silence, then, only their footsteps on the cold stone as James peered ahead of them into
the darkness, trying to figure out if he should say what was on his mind. Finally, he couldn’t hold
himself back.

“I wish you’d told me.”

Sirius nodded, not looking at him. “I know.”

“Why didn’t you?” James pressed, a bolt of insecurity rushing through him. “Even after Marlene
and Dorcas got together—you knew I wouldn’t care. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You can’t understand, James,” Sirius said, shaking his head. “You can’t know what it’s like not to
be straight and to have to tell people. It’s not like fear is logical, is it? It’s not like I can just forget
all the times I heard slurs at the dinner table at home, and it’s not like I can just tell myself that
being terrified out of my wits isn’t logical and switch it off. Trust me when I say that it’s got
absolutely nothing to do with you.”

James nodded, sighing out a long breath and looking at Sirius in concern. “Are you still terrified?”
he asked after a moment.

Sirius snorted out a slight laugh. “Always, these days,” he said. “I thought I might feel less so when
I told Moony, but it sort of got worse. I mean, not worse really, because now I have him and that’s
spectacular, but, I don’t know...sometimes I just want to run away from it all. It’s actually good you
found out the way you did, since I thought I might have to bribe Remus into telling you for me.”
James smiled but sobered quickly. “What do you do, then? Instead of running?”

Sirius shrugged. “Sometimes I turn into my Animagus form,” he said. “Sometimes I get high.
Sometimes I can’t do either and I just try not to explode.”

“You can talk to me about it now,” James said, putting a hand on Sirius’ shoulder in what he hoped
would be a comforting way. “About anything. I know that I don’t know much, and I might not
know how to help, but I’m always here.”

“Thanks, Prongs,” Sirius said. He paused, then looked down, avoiding James’ gaze. “I’m sorry
about not telling you before,” he mumbled. “I never wanted to lie to you.”

James shook his head vigorously, slightly alarmed at Sirius’ apology. This was only the second
time in his life that he could remember Sirius ever apologizing to him. “Please don’t apologize to
me, Padfoot,” he said. “Not for that. I understand why you didn’t tell me, even if I wish you had. I
just wish you hadn’t felt so alone for so long.”

“Please just accept my apology anyway, alright?” Sirius said, looking up at James, a grimace on
his face. “You know I don’t give them out often. It’d make me feel better.”

“Alright,” James said, smiling slightly. “I accept your apology.”

The ghost of a smile passed across Sirius’ face, and they continued down the corridor, James’ lit
wand showing them the way through the dungeons.

“Why do you think that is, anyway?” James asked, peering around the corners. He knew that it was
he who’d chosen to patrol, but he didn’t relish the idea of running into any Slytherins down here,
anyway. “The only person I’ve heard you regularly apologize to is Moony. Is that because of how
you feel about him?”

Sirius shook his head, hesitating for a moment before responding. “I don’t like apologizing,” he
said finally. “But Moony and I always got into more spats than you and me, or any of the rest of us
did. I needed to apologize to him more, so I did.”

James shot him a disbelieving look. “It’s not just that,” he pointed out doggedly. “You’ve pissed
off plenty of other people and never apologized to them. Lily, for one.”

Sirius shrugged, looking uncomfortable. After a moment of silence, he said: “Apologizing to

Remus doesn’t feel as difficult as apologizing to other people. He doesn’t...I don’t think he expects
me to be good in the same way that other people do, so it doesn’t feel as hard to admit that I’m
wrong with him.”

“What do you mean?” James asked, confused. “Remus definitely thinks you’re a good person,
Sirius.”

“I know he does. It’s not that, exactly,” Sirius said, looking a little confused, himself. “I don’t
know how to explain it. It’s just easier.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” James said. Then, he stopped, furrowing his brow, at the sound of faint
voices down the corridor ahead. He glanced at Sirius, who was also peering ahead in suspicion.
Sharing a look with James, he nodded, James extinguished his wand, and Sirius drew his own from
his pocket. They crept closer. James noticed as they did so that they were nearing where the
Slytherin common room was located, and wondered if some Slytherins were out after curfew. The
tone of the discussion up ahead didn’t sound friendly, however.
As they approached, the words grew clearer. “He doesn’t want to talk to you, blood traitor,” James
heard a male voice spit, then the sounds of a scuffle. He met Sirius’ eyes for a moment, then they
rounded the corner, taking in the scene.

In the light of the torches on the walls, they saw Barty Crouch and one of his fellow Slytherins—
who James recognized after a moment to be John Selwyn—struggling with another boy, who was
wearing Ravenclaw colors and had sandy blonde hair. Before either Sirius or James could
intervene, Crouch drew his arm back and punched the boy on the nose, causing a crack that echoed
down the dark corridors.

“Hey!” James exclaimed, raising his wand, his tone authoritative. “Crouch, Selwyn, what’s going
on here?”

The two Slytherins turned around, startled, and the boy named Selwyn released the Ravenclaw
boy’s robes, letting him stumble back, clutching at his nose, which had begun to bleed. James
couldn’t make out his face, but he felt as though he’d seen him before.

“Potter,” Selwyn spat. “It’s none of your business.”

James raised his eyebrows. “Really? Because it seems to me that you were just attacking another
student, and I’m Head Boy, so I think it is my business.”

Crouch glanced at his companion, silencing him with a look. He adopted a calm, measured tone of
voice as he spoke to James, and James had the urge to snort. Did Crouch really think that this
façade would make him forget what he’d just seen? “Macmillan was trying to break into our
common room. He started the fight when we wouldn’t let him inside.”

“Really?” James asked, his voice full of disbelief as he glanced at the other boy. Now, he realized
where he’d seen this boy before: he was one of the fifth-year Ravenclaw prefects. “Then why is it
him with a broken nose, when the two of you don’t have a scratch on you?”

Crouch shrugged. “We were defending ourselves.” Sirius narrowed his eyes at him and Crouch
gave him a scathing look in response.

“Is that what happened?” James asked, turning to the other boy. Looking up for the first time, he
glanced from Selwyn and Crouch to James, then gave a short nod.

James fixed him with a long look, then turned back to Crouch. “Fine,” he said heavily. “Go back to
your dormitory, then, before I change my mind about giving you a detention.”

The Slytherins didn’t need telling twice, and disappeared around the corner, but not before Selwyn
cast one last malevolent look back at the Ravenclaw boy. Once the sound of their footsteps died
away, James approached the Ravenclaw.

“I can fix that for you if you’d like,” he said, raising his eyebrows at the younger boy. Macmillan
raised his head, looking at James warily, then nodded reluctantly. James raised his wand, aiming it
precisely at the boy’s nose, then muttered: “Episkey.” There was a small snapping sound, then the
nose healed itself. James stepped back, pocketing his wand.

“It’s Stephen, isn’t it?” he asked, looking down at him tentatively. Stephen, who seemed to have
been trying not to look at either him or Sirius, now glanced up at James unwillingly and nodded.
“Want to tell us what actually happened?” James asked, raising his eyebrows.

“They already told you what happened,” Stephen muttered. James glanced back at Sirius quickly,
wondering what he should do, and Sirius just shrugged. When James looked back to Stephen, he
was examining the floor again intently.

“Why did you want to get into the Slytherin common room, then?” James asked. Stephen’s gaze
flicked up to him, his glare now evident.

“Look, I don’t need your help,” he said, a hostile note in his voice. “You can go. I’m fine.”

Sirius scoffed, from behind James. “So you can try to break in again?” he asked, giving the boy a
disbelieving look. “Not likely.”

Stephen resolutely turned his gaze to the wall behind Sirius’ back, addressing it instead of him.
“I’m not leaving.”

“Who were you trying to talk to?” James pressed, looking at him intently.

“Nobody,” Stephen muttered, still looking everywhere but at them.

“Sounds like whoever it is, he doesn’t want to talk to you,” Sirius pointed out bluntly. “I don’t
think you’ll change that by camping out here.”

Stephen turned to look at Sirius for the first time, and his glare was so fierce James was worried it
might set Sirius aflame. “I’m not giving up,” he said angrily, his words sounding almost pointed.

James took in this exchange in confusion, a confusion that Sirius seemed to share. Why was this
boy looking at Sirius like he’d done him some personal wrong? Was he just taking out his anger on
both of them? Still, behind the rage, James recognized something else in this boy’s eyes:
desperation, hurt, terror...Despite his rage, he was still just a kid, not a danger to them.

“Tonight, you are,” James said firmly. “You’re out of bed after curfew. Unless you want detention,
go back to your dormitory. Now.”

Stephen glared back at James for a long moment, then swore under his breath and turned, shoulders
hunched, to head up the stairs. Sirius and James watched his figure disappear around the bend, then
James drew out the map, examining it closely.

“He’s heading back to his dormitory,” he confirmed after a long moment. “What the hell was that
about, do you reckon?” he asked, turning to Sirius. Sirius shrugged, looking completely at a loss.

“I have no fucking idea,” he admitted. “Is it just me, or did he seem like he didn’t want to look at
me?”

“I noticed that, too,” James said, his brow furrowed. “Any clue why?”

“None,” Sirius said. “I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to him before in my life. Who is he, anyway?”

“Stephen Macmillan,” James answered automatically. “He’s one of the fifth-year Ravenclaw
prefects. Pureblood, but not a blood purist, as far as I’ve heard.”

“Wonder why he was lurking around the Slytherin common room, then,” Sirius said, narrowing his
eyes.

“Yeah...it is weird. Who’d he want to talk to in there?” James wondered.

“Search me,” Sirius responded, shaking his head in confusion. “I doubt many of them would be
friends with someone from a blood traitor family.”
 “I suppose we won’t find out,” James said, sighing. “Hopefully it’s just student drama, not
something to do with Voldemort.”

“Yeah,” Sirius said, glancing back to where Crouch and Selwyn had disappeared.

“We should probably head back to the tower,” James said. “It’s late.”

Sirius nodded, and they followed in Stephen Macmillan’s footsteps up toward the main level of the
castle. James checked the Marauder’s Map several times until he saw that Stephen’s labeled dot
was safely back in Ravenclaw Tower. He wished he knew what was going on between the
Slytherins and the sandy-haired Ravenclaw boy; he wished he could help him. Still, James knew
he couldn’t fix everything and everyone, even if he wanted to.

When they reached Gryffindor Tower, he and Sirius bypassed the common room for their
dormitory. When they entered, they found Remus on his bed, sprawled out reading a book. He
looked up as they came in, and Sirius didn’t hesitate as he threw himself down on the bed beside
him, burying his head in Remus’ chest. Remus gave Sirius a fond look, stroking a hand over his
hair, then looked up to give James a smile. James, temporarily forgetting about Stephen
Macmillan, smiled at the scene.

“Finished your essay, then, Moony?” he asked, sitting on his own bed.

“Yep,” Remus confirmed. “It was easier than I thought it’d be. Also, there’s the fact that I’d
actually mostly finished it, I just wanted to give you two time to talk.”

James laughed. “Good man,” he said.

The bathroom door opened to reveal Peter in the doorway in his pajamas. He took a few steps into
the room, then his eyes fell on Sirius and Remus. He raised his eyebrows slightly and glanced over
at James, as if to ask whether or not this was something he could remark upon as out of the
ordinary. James gave him a little shrug, as he didn’t really know himself what his answer should
be.

“Hey, lads,” Peter said, clearing his throat as he moved to his bed, unwrapping a Toothflossing
Stringmint and popping it into his mouth. “What’s going on?”

He shot them a slight smirk, even while sucking on the sweet, and James was amazed at how
unsurprised he looked by the position Sirius and Remus were in. It was almost like he knew
exactly what would come next, like he’d been expecting it.

“Hey, Wormtail,” Sirius said, rolling over onto his back and, to James’ surprise, grinning at Peter.
“We’ve got something to tell you.”

Chapter End Notes

Happy coming out day!!

 1978: People Need People
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

“I swear to god, if he looks over here one more time, I’m going to shove his wand so far up his arse
—”

“Mac, chill,” Lily said, reaching out to place a quelling hand on top of Mary’s across the table, but
smiling nonetheless at her friend’s threat. It was a Wednesday evening, the first day of February,
and she and Mary were studying in the library. Well, to label what they were doing as studying
might be a bit of a stretch. They were trying to complete their D.A.D.A. essays, but both girls were
having difficulty concentrating, due to the fact that Severus Snape was seated several tables away
and kept looking over at them.

“Can we please move?” Mary asked, shooting another glare over to where Severus was sitting. “I
can’t focus on anything while he keeps sending you looks. It makes my skin crawl.”

“I’m not moving,” Lily said stubbornly, withdrawing her hand and picking up her quill again. “We
were here first. Anyway, it seems like he’s everywhere these days. If I move, he might just follow
me.”

Mary grimaced. “Why’s he picked now to be a stalker? As if you don’t have enough on your
mind.”

“I have no idea,” Lily replied, leaning down to focus on her essay resolutely. “If he doesn’t quit it
soon, though, I might try out that Bat-Bogey Hex Professor Abbott mentioned in class on him.”

Mary raised her eyebrows, looking past Lily towards Severus with a dangerous look on her face.
“Why wait?”

“We’re in the middle of the library,” Lily said, rolling her eyes. Mary snorted and turned back
down to her essay, though Lily could see her fingers tapping restlessly on the table, and knew that
half her mind was still on the boy sitting behind them. Mary’s hair, which Lily had charmed
blonde during the summer, was now falling in her face, and her dark roots had grown out
considerably. Mary hadn’t bothered to either undo the spell or charm her roots blonde, however,
and Lily thought it looked rather cool.

Lily sighed, turning back to her essay, the skin at the back of her neck prickling. She’d done her
own auburn hair up in a bun that day and was now regretting it. Despite the fact that she couldn’t
see Severus herself, she could feel his eyes burning into the back of her neck, which felt very
exposed. She had absolutely no idea why he’d decided at the start of term to take it upon himself to
stalk her, but she was reaching her limit, and her desire not to speak to him was slowly being taken
over by her desire for his eyes to leave her.

One day in early January, over the holidays, Lily had found him sitting on one of the swings at the
playground they’d used to frequent as children. She’d turned tail immediately and left, and he
hadn’t called after her, but nevertheless, she knew he’d been waiting for her there. His black eyes
had bored into the back of her head as she left, and Lily resentfully wished that he’d just disappear
into thin air. She didn’t need him complicating her thoughts, reminding her of a time when she’d
felt more scared and small than she did now, especially when her mind was so crowded with James
these days.
Despite her and James’ tentative reconciliation since the break, she hadn’t told him about Severus’
peculiar attention to her recently. Severus seemed to melt away when James was around,
thankfully, which only added to Lily’s desire to spend more time with him. The more time she
spent with James, the more she was drawn to him, and despite her hesitation, Lily knew that soon
she’d need to be honest with James about her feelings. They weren’t going anywhere, after all.

“Lils, I can’t concentrate when he’s here,” Mary said, her voice higher than usual. Lily looked up,
finding that her friend was fidgeting worse than ever.

“I’m sorry,” Lily said, suddenly feeling very guilty. With all of Mary’s bravado and anger, Lily
had momentarily forgotten that underneath, there was real vulnerability. Mary had never liked
Severus, but since he and his friends had attacked her in their fifth year, it was more than dislike
that made it hard for Mary to be in the same room as him. Mary suspected—and Lily believed she
was probably right—that Severus had been the one responsible for the jagged scar that still lay
pale against her cheek.

“You don’t have to stay with me,” Lily reassured her friend. “You can go back to the dorms, and
I’ll follow you in a bit. I’m almost done with this.”

“I don’t want to leave you alone with him,” Mary said, casting another glance back at Severus.
Lily reached across the table to put a comforting hand over Mary’s small one.

“I’m not alone,” she said. “Pince is here, as well as half a dozen other people studying. Anyway,
I’m not afraid of him. Go.”

Mary hesitated for a moment, then stood up, packing away her books in her bag and pulling it over
her shoulder. “Be careful, Lily,” she said, sending a last, dark look towards Severus. Then, she
turned and departed, her short, quick strides carrying her out of the library. Lily turned back to her
essay. She was determined to finish it, despite the presence of her ex-best friend behind her. He
could go fuck himself for all Lily cared.

Half an hour later, Lily finished the last sentence of her essay. She drew her wand out, casting a
quick drying charm on the ink, then rolled it up and carefully placed it into her bag along with her
quill and ink pot. She rose, and as she did so, her eyes found Severus. He was still seated at the
table one away from hers, and as she looked over, her eyes met his. Snorting, she pushed her chair
into the table more forcefully than she would’ve usually done and strode out of the library.

As she left, Lily realized that the corridors were dark. It was nearly curfew. Likely, the library had
been on the verge of closing when she’d left it. There she was again, breaking her promise to
James to be careful, Lily realized slightly guiltily as she listened to the echo of her own footsteps
against the dark stone floors. Still, Lily wouldn’t be some caged bird unable to go out on her own.

When she heard another set of footsteps behind her, she wasn’t really surprised. She turned to face
the boy following her, slipping her wand out of her pocket as she did so.

“Severus,” she said as he approached. “What do you want?”

His pace slowed as he neared her, and Lily saw his gaze flick to the wand in her hand, even in the
low light. He had the good sense to stop several yards away. “I wanted to talk to you,” he said, his
tone unreadable.

“Really?” she asked, tilting her head, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because you’ve been
following me around the castle for almost a month, and you haven’t tried to talk before now.”
“I’ve been trying to protect you,” Severus hissed under his breath, glancing around as if checking
for eavesdroppers. “There are things going on around the castle that you don’t know about, Lily.”

Lily snorted. “I know that there are Death Eaters in the castle now,” she said. “I’ve heard what
people are saying, Severus.”

Severus’ eyebrows raised slightly, and Lily knew that she’d surprised him. Typical, she thought.
He was arrogant enough to think that Slytherin house was a fortress, from which no information
could escape.

“What have you heard?” he asked coldly, but she thought she heard a note of wariness in his voice
now, too.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “But I don’t need your protection.” He scoffed, opening his mouth to
retort, but she cut him off. “I don’t want it,” she said firmly, her voice ringing through the corridor,
cold and clear. He stared at her, hurt showing on his face. She gritted her teeth, trying not to let it
get to her.

“Now,” she said, a dangerous note to her voice, advancing on him slightly. “Stop following me.
Stop watching me. Do not try to talk to me again. I want nothing to do with you, do you
understand?”

He gave a short, cold nod, all signs of hurt wiped clean from his face in an instant. Funny, she
thought, that it was that easy for him to trade hurt for anger. She glared at him for another moment,
then turned her back on him, walking away. She’d made it only a few yards down the corridor
before he spoke behind her.

“Be careful, Lily,” he said. His voice was soft, but it carried to her, and she stopped still for a
moment, wondering if he’d say anything more. He didn’t, however, and she heard his footsteps
fade in the opposite direction. Gritting her teeth, Lily made herself move again, spotting the
concealed door which led to a shortcut to Gryffindor Tower, and pushing it open.

When Lily was inside the corridor, however, she sighed, pressing her back against the door and
closing her eyes. She’d found this passage in her sixth year and liked the fact that it was most often
deserted. She’d go back to the dormitory soon, she told herself, but she was shaken by the
interaction with Severus and needed time to think without observation. Unfortunately, however, it
seemed like time alone was out of the question that day.

“Hey, Evans.”

The voice sounded from a little way ahead of her, and Lily opened her eyes to see Sirius, sitting in a
little alcove next to a windowsill, looking completely at ease. He was wearing his uniform shirt
and trousers, but had a leather jacket over it and was smoking a cigarette out the window. She
noticed that he was wearing the dragon earring that Dorcas had made for him the previous year,
and had to suppress a smile. He’d never taken it off the previous year, and somehow she liked the
sight of him wearing it now, as if nothing had changed since then.

“Hi, Black,” she said, pushing herself off the wall and walking over to him. “What are you doing
here?”

Sirius tilted his head at her, giving her an amused half-smile. “What does it look like? Wanna
smoke?”

Lily gave a wry smile, then went to sit down across from him in the little alcove. “Sure,” she said,
holding out her hand for a cigarette. “So, you’re talking to me again, are you?”

Sirius grinned and handed her one, and she lit it with the tip of her wand, taking a slow drag. She’d
never actually smoked before, so she coughed slightly, but took another inhale. It was a bit
disgusting, but she felt oddly at ease, sitting with Sirius.

“Giving you the silent treatment is exhausting,” Sirius replied after a moment. “I’ve got too much
on my mind to keep it up.”

Lily laughed a little, coughing as she did so. “You’re an enigma, Sirius,” she said.

Sirius gave her an inquisitive look. “So, who were you talking to before you came in here? I heard
voices.”

Lily sighed. “Severus,” she said, taking another drag. “He’s been following me around.”

“Creep,” Sirius said, with a sort of satisfied disgust in his voice. “What does he want?”

“He said he wanted to protect me,” Lily said, contempt in her voice. “Creep.”

Sirius let out a slight bark of a laugh. “I assume you told him where he could stick his protection?”
he asked, grinning across at her. Lily smiled slightly, leaning her head back on the cold stone.

“Of course I did,” she said, and shuddered. “My skin’s still crawling.”

“He has that effect on people,” Sirius said, grinning.

Lily knew that Sirius was enjoying hearing all the things he’d been saying about Severus for years
from Lily’s mouth, and she was actually rather enjoying saying them as well. There was a
particular satisfaction, too, in the fact that she knew Severus would absolutely abhor the idea of her
sitting there, smoking with Sirius, in the first place. You don’t tell me what I can and can’t do
anymore, she told the image of his disapproving face that she’d conjured up in front of her eyes.
You don’t tell me who I can or can’t be friends with anymore.

She looked out the window, trying to push away the cold, shameful feeling that rose up in her as
she thought of Severus. Looking across at Sirius again, she tilted her head inquisitively. “I heard
that you told James and Peter about you and Remus.”

“Yeah,” Sirius confirmed, nodding, looking out the window instead of at her. “Well, James found
out, and we told Peter.”

“Hmm,” Lily intoned, taking another puff from the cigarette and waiting for him to continue.
When he didn’t speak, she asked him: “Are you glad they know now?”

Sirius seemed to consider, glancing at her, his eyes contemplative. “I suppose,” he said. “It went
fine with both of them. Surprisingly, Peter suspected a bit. After Dee and Marley came out, I guess,
it was more on his radar.”

“And James?”

Sirius smiled. “Clueless,” he said. He gave her an appraising look. “When are you going to come
clean to James, anyway?”

Lily let out a long sigh, watching the smoke unfurl from the still-lit cigarette in her hand. “I’m not
sure I should talk to you about this,” she said finally, quirking an eyebrow at him, letting a slight
smile play across her lips. “I don’t know if I’m in the mood to be called a dunce again.”

Sirius let out a short laugh. “I—” He broke off, glancing at her, then sighed, looking down at his
hands. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said the things I said to you that day.”

Lily raised her eyebrows, taken aback. “That’s the closest thing to an apology I’ve ever gotten
from you, Sirius.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “And it’s all you’re going to get,” he retorted. Pausing again, he took another
puff of his cigarette. Exhaling, he looked at her intently. “It’s possible,” he said, sighing. “that I
was projecting some of my own issues onto you at the time.”

“I gathered that,” Lily replied, smiling. Then, she hesitated. “I maybe said some things I shouldn’t
have said that day, too.”

“You know,” Sirius said, grinning at her. “That might be the closest thing to an apology I’ve ever
gotten from you before, either.”

“Well, that’s because I’ve never had reason to apologize to you before,” she said, raising her chin
haughtily, though she was trying to conceal a smile. “It’s not my own personal failing.”

“Sure, Lily,” Sirius said, laughing. “What a pair we are.”

Lily grinned, taking another drag, then began to giggle. “If someone had told me in third year
where we would be now, smoking cigarettes together in an abandoned corner of the castle, I
would’ve told them they were crazy.”

Sirius grinned. “I wouldn’t have predicted it, either,” he admitted. “Third-year me probably
thought one of us would’ve murdered the other by now. Probably that you would’ve murdered me,
if I’m honest with myself.”

“I still could,” Lily joked, the corners of her lips tilted upwards, considering.

“Nah, you wouldn’t, not now,” Sirius said comfortably. “You’re friends with my mates now.
You’d have to explain to James, Marlene, Dorcas, and Remus what you did.”

“They might thank me. You are pretty annoying.”

“No more than you,” Sirius retorted. Lily smiled.

“I’m prettier than you,” she said. “That makes up for the annoyance factor in my case.”

Sirius scoffed. “You wish you could be as pretty as me,” he said.

Lily giggled. “If we could harness your self-confidence, Sirius, we could power the whole of
England.”

Sirius grimaced. “Or it might not make enough electricity to power a single lightbulb,” he said
darkly. Lily looked across at him intently but didn’t respond. There, again, was something they
had in common. Perhaps Dorcas had always been right when she’d told Lily in third year that she
and Sirius might be more alike than they thought.

“After Severus,” she said after a long moment of silence, looking down at the stone floor. “I used
to wonder whether there was something wrong with me, because Petunia and Severus both treated
me like I was nothing. Sometimes I still can’t help but feel like maybe I am just nothing.”
She wasn’t sure why she said it, other than the fact that Sirius was sitting there, and it was quiet,
and at that moment, she sensed that he might understand. There was a short pause, and Lily heard
Sirius exhaling a long breath.

“That’s bullshit,” he declared after a moment. He wasn’t looking at her, either, but out of the
window. “Snape’s a piece of shit that doesn’t even deserve to be spat on by you, Lily Evans. And
as for your sister, you can’t help it that you’re so brilliant that you make her feel like nothing. You
shouldn’t let shit people make you feel like shit.”

“What’s your excuse, then?” Lily asked, looking back at him. Sirius smiled grimly.

“Well, it’s all easier said than done, innit?” he said, his tone bitter. “Anyway, all I know is that
James is a good judge of character. He wouldn’t look at you as if you were the most amazing thing
in the world without it being at least a little bit true.”

Lily colored slightly and looked down at her hands, her heart beating fast. There was a long
silence, during which Lily steeled herself for what she was about to say.

“If I do it,” she said finally, taking a deep breath. “If I tell James how I feel about him...how do I
look him in the eye after? How do I give him that amount of power over me, then act like
everything’s fine? How do I survive the way he looks at me?”

When she finally looked up to meet Sirius’ gaze after she finished speaking, Lily found that Sirius
wasn’t looking at her in the way that she’d expected him to. The words had felt broken as they
came out of her mouth, like she was yanking shards of glass from her windpipe, but Sirius didn’t
look at her like she was broken. He didn’t look at her like he pitied her. His grey eyes searched
hers, and there was understanding there, even relief, strange as it was.

“You don’t act like everything’s fine after,” he said simply. “You tell him you’re terrified and then
hope that he’ll hold you while you’re waiting for the sky to fall.”

Lily just looked back at him, lost for words. Before they’d gotten together, Lily had spent so long
looking at Sirius and Remus, and at Marlene and Dorcas, and thinking herself clever because she
thought she knew what was going on in their hearts. Now, she didn’t feel so clever, realizing that
they’d all figured things out for themselves just fine, and she was left sorting through her own
mess.

“Tell him, Lily,” Sirius implored. “You can’t go through life ignoring your feelings like it’s going
to make things better. People need people.”

There was a moment of silence, where she took in his words and tried to muster up the courage to
respond. “Sometimes I’m afraid that I love people too much,” Lily said quietly, looking down at
her hands, which were clasped in her lap. “Sometimes I’m scared that it’ll kill me.”

Sirius smiled ruefully, leaning back and taking another drag from his cigarette. “I know what you
mean.”

They sat in silence then, smoking and lost in their own thoughts. When the shadows lengthened in
the corridor and their cigarettes burnt out, they left, heading back to the Gryffindor common room
together without discussion. Of all the unlikely friendships she’d forged in the past two years, Lily
thought that this was by far the most bizarre. But perhaps what was more bizarre was the fact that
Sirius, who she’d thought she hated for years, was the only person she felt truly understood her at
that moment. The ease she felt walking alongside him up the Grand Staircase trumped any part of
her brain that told her it was illogical. And sometimes, she thought, those “logical” parts of her
brain needed to sit down and shut up. Especially the ones that still spoke in Severus’ voice.

....

Lily found her chance to speak to James the following day. After Transfiguration, she approached
him, her heart beating violently in her chest.

“James?” Lily asked, and he turned toward her, away from Sirius and Remus, who both glanced up
at her, too, curiously. James’ expression was open, eyebrows raised, almost hopeful. That was
always how he looked at her, these days. She gave him a small, nervous smile. “Can we go
somewhere to talk?”

James smiled back. “Of course,” he replied. Behind him, Lily caught Sirius’ eye, and he sent her a
grin, one which she was too nervous to return.

In the end, she and James ended up at the top of the Astronomy Tower, which was deserted, as
classes were only held there at night. They hadn’t spoken about their destination when they’d
started walking, or about what she wanted to talk to him about. They discussed the class, and Lily
knew James was waiting. When they sat down on the ledge next to the entrance, side by side, there
was a moment of silence before Lily had the courage to speak.

“I know I’ve been unfair to you,” she said. She felt, rather than saw, James watching her, as her
eyes were fixed on the horizon. “I know that I’ve jerked you around for the past few months. You
asked me for the truth in November, and I didn’t give it to you, and since then, I’ve been sending
you nothing but confusing signals and expecting to still have you around even though I know it’s
hurting you.”

She turned to him, eyes meeting his, anguish in her own. “It’s been hurting me, too,” she admitted.
“But I’ve been doing that to myself.” He stared back at her, his eyes full of a complicated mix of
hope, worry, hurt, and confusion.

“Why?” he asked simply, his gaze searching hers. She took a deep breath and shrugged, a sad smile
on her face.

“I was afraid.”

“Of what?” James asked. Then, he looked suddenly horrified. “Of me?”

Lily could’ve laughed. “Not of you,” she said, smiling despite herself. She couldn’t help it. James,
teddy bear of a bloke that he was, could never scare her. “You don’t scare me, James. It’s just...the
way you look at me sometimes. The way you wear your heart on your sleeve. I remember
sometimes in fifth and sixth, I’d walk into a room and see you, and you’d just be smiling at me like
I made your whole day just by existing, and I kind of hated you for it. I wished I could just make
you stop looking at me like that.”

“Because it’s...scary?” James asked, looking even more perplexed.

“Yes,” Lily admitted. “To me, it is. I...I didn’t feel like I deserved it. You looked at me like I was
perfect, and it felt so wrong because I really felt like I was awful most of the time, in fifth and sixth.
I still feel that way sometimes now, too.”

James stared at her for a moment, then reached out to cover her hand with his. She looked down at
his hand, his fingers long and thin, as he closed it around her softer ones, squeezing slightly. When
she looked back up into his hazel eyes, she found that he was smiling.
“I don’t think you’re perfect, Lily,” he said gently. “I’ve never thought that. Sometimes you
frustrate the hell out of me. I don’t look at you like that because I think you’re perfect. I look at you
like that because I like you, Lily Evans.”

Lily’s eyes locked on his; it almost felt like she couldn’t look away. She knew, right then, that
she’d never shake this boy, with his hazel eyes, messy hair which she knew from experience was
incredibly soft to the touch, and brilliant smile. She couldn’t shake the way that he looked at her,
even though it terrified her as much as it excited her.

She swallowed and continued. “The way you care about people, it’s so pure and good, James. I’m
scared of being cared about in that way. It’s overwhelming.”

James searched her face for a moment, then asked: “Is it like with Sirius, how he’s afraid to let
people in because he’s worried they’ll hurt him?”

Lily raised her eyebrows, surprised. “Did he tell you that?”

“He didn’t have to,” James said, shrugging. “You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to get him to
let me be his friend in first year.”

“Yeah,” Lily said, looking down at his hand over hers again. “I suppose it’s something like that.”

James nodded, and they sat in silence for another moment before she took a deep breath and added:
“It’s not just how you feel about me, though, that’s overwhelming. It’s also how I feel about you.”

James’ eyes flicked back up to hers, his gaze intent. Lily took another deep inhale. She felt a bit
lightheaded and was a little worried that she might pass out at any second, but she needed to get
this out.

“Sirius told me yesterday that the only way to survive saying something like this is by telling you
that I’m terrified, then hoping you’ll hold me after while I wait for the sky to fall,” she said, letting
out a nervous laugh. “So that’s what I’m trying to do, and I’m really hoping you won’t let me crack
my skull open on the floor if I pass out while I try to say this.”

He looked back at her, his expression slightly concerned, but he didn’t speak. He was clearly
waiting with bated breath to see what she’d say next.

She took another deep breath, then looked him straight in the eyes. “James, I fancy you. I care
about you a lot, much more than I ever wanted to or what feels safe for me to feel about anyone.
I’ve tried running, and I’ve tried denying it, and neither seemed to work out, so I’ve decided that
I’ve got to face it. And I’m really hoping that the fact that I’ve been quite terrible to you as I’ve
figured this whole thing out doesn’t mean that you’ve decided I’m no longer worth it, though I’d
understand if you had. If you still think I’m worth it, though, I’d really like to go on a date with you
at the next Hogsmeade weekend.”

She said all of this very fast, barely taking a breath, and when she was done, she exhaled slowly,
her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for his response. Slowly, a wide smile spread across
his face.

“You just asked me out,” he said, his grin wide, eyes twinkling. Lily wondered if he was laughing
at her, all of a sudden, and the familiar instinct to rebuke him stirred up in her, so she rolled her
eyes, giving him a glare.

“Nice deduction work,” she sniped. “Do you have an answer for me?”
He let out a laugh, looking exceptionally amused. “You’re a downright enigma, Lily Evans,” he
said, shaking his head. “Of course I’ll go out with you.”

Then, he stood up, reaching to pull her up next to him, and wrapped his arms around her. She let
out a squawk of surprise and protest as he picked her up off her feet and twirled her in a circle, then
set her back down on the stone floor of the tower, beaming at her.

“I never thought I’d see the day,” he said, still beaming. “You do realize when the next
Hogsmeade weekend is, don’t you?”

Lily thought for a second, then she realized. “Oh, god, no,” she said, her face falling. “Not the one
on the weekend before Valentine’s Day.”

“I’m afraid so,” James said, grinning from ear to ear.

“You’re really going to make me suffer with this, aren’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” James said, draping an arm over her shoulder. Lily didn’t miss the little butterflies that
erupted in her stomach in response to his gesture, and the feel of his warm body at her side.
“Payback is a bitch, Miss Evans.”

She blushed as she looked up at him, and he smiled back at her, his expression holding no rebuke,
only gentle teasing. “Alright, then,” she said feebly.

....

The lead-up to their date was torturous, given the fact that as each day passed, Lily’s nerves grew.
This was somewhat remedied, but also possibly made worse, every time James looked at her. After
her confession, the ice had successfully thawed between them, but neither seemed to quite know
how to act around the other, as they weren’t quite together, but neither were they not together.
They seemed to compromise on this fact by spending more time with each other, often studying, as
their workload was as vast as ever.

Sometimes James would send her a smile and Lily would return it, blushing slightly, over their
essays. Lily knew that a casual observer would be able to see that something was going on between
the two of them, but they might not know what, and she was content with that.

Now, on the morning of their date, Lily’s nerves had reared their ugly heads once again. Instead of
letting her run around like a chicken with its head cut off, however, Mary had taken charge of her,
sitting her down first and french braiding her long, red hair into a neat plait down her back. This
was good, Lily thought, as it disguised the amount she’d mussed it in her nerves that morning.
Then, Mary supervised her choice of clothes, calmly forcing her to choose before the options
became too numerous.

Lily wasn’t quite sure how it’d all come together, but by nine a.m., she was standing in the middle
of the room, ready to leave. Mary reached up and flipped the tag to the inside of Lily’s sweater,
then smiled at her.

“You look great, Lils,” she said, stepping back. She nodded to the clock on the wall. “You should
probably get going, though, if you want to have time to eat breakfast beforehand.”

Lily took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, you’re right. Are you sure you don’t want to go into the
village?” she asked Mary, putting her coat on and pulling her long, braided hair out from under it.
Mary gave a small shake of her head.
 “Nah, I’ve been a hundred times,” she replied. “Anyway, Professor Kettleburn told me that the
library just got a new book on Hippogriffs in last week, so that’s got my name on it.”

“Okay, have fun,” Lily said, smiling nervously at her. “Wait, what about breakfast?” she asked.

“You know I hate eating early in the morning,” Mary said. “I’ll get something from the kitchens
later.” Lily hesitated again, opening her mouth to ask Mary another question, but Mary gave her a
knowing look.

“Go,” she prompted, and Lily nodded, turning to leave. When she reached the door, she turned
back and glanced at Mary, who was still watching her as she exited. Lily gave her one last nervous
smile, then departed.

Down in the Great Hall, Lily ate breakfast in a rush, sitting with Hestia and Emmeline but barely
listening to their conversation. “Where’s Mary?” Emmeline inquired at one point, jerking Lily back
to attention.

“Oh, she said she wanted to spend the day reading a new Care of Magical Creatures book,” Lily
said. “She was going to get food in the kitchens later.”

“Classic Mary,” Hestia said, smiling brightly. “If there’s a creature book, nothing else matters.”

Emmeline frowned slightly. “I thought she said she was looking forward to going to Honeydukes,”
she said. “She usually likes to visit Hogsmeade in the snow.”

Lily shrugged. “I suppose the book changed things for her,” she said, smiling. “I’ll make sure to
bring her back some sweets.”

“No, we can,” Hestia said quickly. She gave Lily a wink. “You’ll be busy with your date.”

Lily flushed a deep red. “Alright,” she said feebly, embarrassed.

After she finished her porridge, Lily stood, looking around for James, and spotted him within
seconds, standing up from where the Marauders were sitting, a few yards away. Sensing her eyes
on him, he turned and smiled at her, running a hand through his hair. Lily thought that it was
hardly fair of him to look at her like that, with his hair tousled and his eyes bright. Her cheeks were
warm, her heart beating out of her chest, but her smile was wide, too, as she walked over to join
him.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you so much for your comments <3 I’m so glad that my writing makes people
happy. I’ve had a hard time lately, just cut my dad out of my life and I’m so thankful
for having this fic and for everyone who reads it!

Also in other news, I wrote this chapter like zoom zoom because my psychiatrist just
upped my ADHD meds wheeeeeeeee!! (pls don’t ever take them if you don’t have a
prescription though thank you and goodnight)
 1978: Revelations

“No, under no condition,” Lily said, stopping dead in her tracks as she saw where James was
headed. He turned back, confused. Her arms were crossed mutinously over her chest, her red hair
standing out against the snow around her. Her cheeks, too, were pink from the cold, and James
thought amusedly that she looked a little like an over-emotional toddler having a tantrum.

“What?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at her.

“I am not going into Madam Puddifoot’s,” Lily replied, raising her chin haughtily at him.

“Why?” James asked, completely perplexed now. “It’s a nice place.” Lily just stared at him for a
moment, then burst into laughter.

“What?” James asked again, grinning widely now. He wasn’t sure what the joke was, but he liked
her laugh. It was hearty, and she snorted slightly in her mirth. “Is that really that absurd of a
concept?”

Lily shook her head, clearly trying to collect herself. “It’s just—you. You’re—I’m sorry,” she
stifled her laughter with her hand. “But you’re ridiculous. You’re James Potter, star Quidditch
player and Head Boy, breaking the rules of Hogwarts right and left, and you also like Madam
Puddifoot’s tea shop? Tell me, are you actually a fictional character? Did some woman write you
as a perfect love interest for an imitation Jane Austen novel? You make me sick.”

James grinned, approaching her. She had, of course, told him that he made her sick earlier in their
Hogwarts career together, but this time her eyes were twinkling. She was smiling at him in a way
that made him want to pick her up and spin her around again, as he’d done when she’d told him
that she had feelings for him, almost a fortnight before. James still couldn’t quite believe the fact
that he was currently on a date with Lily Evans.

“And you like me, Lily, despite it all,” he teased her, tucking a strand of hair that had escaped her
braid behind her ear. Lily rolled her eyes and batted him away.

“Don’t remind me,” she replied.

“So, tell me, what don’t you like about Madam Puddifoot’s, then?” James asked pleasantly. Lily
tried for a haughty look, but he could see her smile through it.

“If you must know, the last time I went in there—last year with Davey—I was about to take a sip
of my hot chocolate when I got a mouthful of confetti. It rather set me off the place.”

James laughed loudly and Lily shoved him, her expression indignant. “If I promise to keep you
safe from the decorations, would you come in with me?” he asked her after he righted himself,
giving her a winning smile. She sighed mutinously, glaring at him for a moment, then conceded,
taking his hand and leading him towards the cafe. James felt as if his smile would split his face and
intertwined his fingers with hers, ducking in through the entrance of Madam Puddifoot’s.

As it turned out, however, James proved unable to keep not only Lily but also himself safe from the
decorations. Only when they were seated at one of the little tables in the coffee shop and received
their drinks was James truly able to appreciate the nuisance that was the flying cherub depositing
confetti down upon them. While both were lucky enough not to get a full mouthful of confetti, it
did get in both of their hair, clothes, and, unfortunately, sugar bowl.
“It’s lucky I don’t like sugar in my tea,” Lily remarked, an amused half-smile on her face as the
golden cherub flying above them threw a handful of confetti directly into the bowl James had just
reached for. James withdrew his hand, looking disappointed.

“It definitely wasn’t like this last time I came,” he remarked, brushing off his shoulder, where the
cherub had just deposited a heap of pink confetti. Lily giggled.

“Well, at least pink is your color,” she said, smiling across at him, her eyes twinkling with
amusement. James laughed.

“Although it definitely is,” he replied. “I still think I’d rather keep it out of my sugar.”

Still, the presence of the flying cherub, though it felt more like an obstacle to be avoided than a
decoration, served to successfully break the ice between them. They spent the entire time in the
coffee shop laughing about one thing or another, and James delighted in the permanent smile on
Lily’s face throughout. In the end, they were asked to leave by an annoyed-looking Madam
Puddifoot when they began to take turns aiming their wands at the flying cherub, directing it to
attack the other with confetti.

James and Lily stumbled out of the coffee shop, laughing and shaking confetti out of their clothes
and hair. As they did so, they ran into two people near the entrance: a short girl with dark skin and
long, braided hair, and a tall, fair boy who was holding her hand.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Lily exclaimed, backing up as she bumped into the girl.

“No, it was my fault,” the girl replied, stepping back, too.

It was only then that James realized that the girl Lily had bumped into was Miranda Ellerton. Even
more amusingly, the boy next to her was clearly, now that James looked at him, none other than
Lily’s ex-boyfriend, Davey Gudgeon. Lily had apparently just realized this, too, as her cheeks
pinked, and she took in the sight of them together, her mouth falling open. Miranda stared back,
looking from James to Lily for a second. Then, at the exact same moment, James and Miranda both
burst into laughter.

They laughed for a good thirty seconds before calming down, taking one look at one another, then
setting each other off again. James knew, as Miranda did, that they both had one subject on their
minds: the single date that the two had been on, more than a year prior, when they’d run into Lily
and Davey briefly. The look James had given Lily on that occasion had prompted Miranda to tell
James, quite kindly, that she didn’t date people who had complicated feelings for other girls. Now,
it seemed, James had gotten the girl he’d long pined after, and Miranda was dating her ex.

“Sorry,” James said after he calmed his laughter again, turning to Lily. He realized he was being
insensitive. After all, Lily and Davey had dated for a good few months. “This is awkward. Hi
Miranda, Davey.”

“Hello James, Lily,” Miranda replied, her eyes still twinkling with humor. “Are you having a good
Hogsmeade visit?”

“It’s been nice so far,” Lily replied, shifting slightly beside James. “How about yours?”

“Very fun,” Miranda said, casting a warm smile towards Davey, who looked rather fidgety and
awkward by her side. James remembered with only a slight feeling of satisfaction that it’d been
Lily who’d dumped him the previous year.

“Oh, come on, then,” Miranda said with no small amount of amusement, taking Davey’s hand and
pulling him around Lily and James. She gave them both a friendly wave as she passed. “See you
both later!”

“You hypocrite,” James muttered under his breath to Miranda when she brushed by him, and she
gave him a wink, disappearing into the coffee shop with Davey in tow.

“Well, that was strange,” Lily commented, her cheeks still very pink as they moved away from
Madam Puddifoot's. “What were you two laughing about?”

“Oh, nothing really,” James said, grinning. “I think it was just funny for us, you know, being
paired off with two exes.”

Lily shook her head, looking bemused. “Miranda’s very nice to be so civil about me and you,” she
said. “Davey didn’t say a word, he just stood there looking like he’d recently been stuffed.” She
giggled despite herself.

“Why shouldn’t Miranda be nice to you? You’re friends, aren’t you?” James asked, raising his
eyebrows. She gave him an odd look but just shrugged.

“Anyway,” Lily continued, smiling over at him. “I hate to tell you this, but I think that might’ve
been the last time you’ll be able to set foot in Madam Puddifoot’s, James.”

James threw back his head and laughed. “So you got your wish,” he said through his chuckles,
smiling down at her. Lily grinned up at him.

“It was all part of my master plan,” she said, rubbing her mittened hands together like a comical
villain.

“Where should we go next, then, ma’am?” James asked. “Your wish is my command.”

“Hmmm,” Lily said, scrunching up her face in thought. As she pondered the question, James
became aware of the piece of confetti that was still stuck to her cheek.

“You’ve still got some confetti on you,” he said to Lily, grinning.

Lifting his hand to her cheek, he brushed off the pink paper carefully, his thumb tracing her soft
skin. His mind stuttered to a stop for a second, looking at her cheek, then his eyes flicked back to
hers, which were suddenly wide as she stared up at him. He marveled again at her contrasting
colors: the red of her hair, her pale skin, and her bright green eyes, standing out against them all.
He knew her lashes were really blonde, but today they were coated with a layer of black mascara,
making her eyes even more bewitching. He’d never been able to study her so closely before, never
been able to look at her when she was just a foot away from him.

James realized he was holding his breath, and let it out slowly, just as he moved his hand to cup her
cheek more soundly this time, his thumb brushing against her skin again. She let out a startled
breath at his touch, and James knew that she was just as fixated on him as he was on her. He
swallowed nervously. It would be so easy, at that moment, to just lean down and—

“James Potter? Lily Evans?” The voice came from behind James, and with it, the moment between
Lily and James popped like a bubble. Inwardly sighing in disappointment, James turned to see who
had interrupted them and was greeted with the sight of a girl with jet-black hair and dark blue eyes.
His brow furrowed in confusion.

“Anna?” Lily asked, speaking James’ thoughts aloud. “You’re Anna Fawley, right? One of the
fifth-year Slytherin prefects?”
“That’s me,” Anna replied, shivering slightly in the cold and glancing around her surreptitiously, as
if to see if anyone walking past was watching them. “Could we go somewhere to talk?”

Lily glanced at James, her eyebrows raised, confusion showing all over her face. He gave her a
slight shrug, then turned back to Anna. “Lead the way.”

Anna led them down an alley between the shops, looking around her every few seconds. Once the
sounds of the main street faded, she stopped, turning to them.

“I have information for you about the new Death Eaters in Slytherin,” she said, her voice low. “I
heard that you’ve been gathering information about what’s going on at Hogwarts related to the war,
is that true?”

James’ eyes widened and he glanced over at Lily. She met his gaze, his own hope and disbelief
mirrored in hers. They’d never thought that they’d be able to get a good source of information in
Slytherin, had always lamented their limited view of what was going on in the school because of it,
and here Anna was, offering to help them.

“It’s true,” Lily said, looking back at Anna. “What do you know?”

James thought he saw some relief on Anna’s face at the news that she hadn’t been wrong in
seeking them out, and she took a deep breath, preparing to speak. “There are at least five new
Death Eaters in Slytherin, since the break.”

“Five new ones?” James asked, alarmed. “On top of the ones who joined before the holidays?”

Anna shook her head. “No one joined before the holidays,” she said. “I know about the rumor that
went around school, but at that point, they hadn’t been initiated yet. They officially joined over the
holidays.”

James raised his eyebrows, startled by the revelation, but Lily narrowed her eyes at the younger
girl. “So, why are you only telling us this now?”

Anna shifted on her feet. “Look, you don’t know what it’s like in Slytherin at the moment,” she
said. “I was scared. Anyway, I only overheard something about you two collecting information
from the houses a week ago when I was in the Ravenclaw common room. Then, I tried to find a
time to talk to one or both of you alone, but I couldn’t find an opportunity until now.”

“Who did you hear it from in Ravenclaw?” Lily pressed. She looked a little less suspicious now, as
if Anna’s explanation had satisfied her. Still, it was good to be on guard, James thought.

“Miranda Ellerton was talking with Eliza Peakes, saying something about how there was nothing
else to report to you two about the war,” Anna replied, shrugging. A slight, sheepish smile
bloomed on her face. “I eavesdrop a lot.”

“I suppose that makes you a good source of information in Slytherin, then,” James said, feeling a
little impressed by the girl in front of him. She obviously had spirit. “How did you find out about
the students who became Death Eaters?”

“They weren’t exactly quiet about it,” Anna said, a spark of derision in her voice. “Ever since last
term, certain people have been bragging.”

“Who?” James pressed, raising his eyebrows. Anna glanced from him to Lily, and James didn’t
miss the fear in her eyes.
“Anna, we’ll do everything in our power to protect you,” he said. “This information will only go to
people who need to know, who we trust.”

Anna nodded and swallowed, taking a deep breath before speaking. “The students I know for sure
are Death Eaters now are Rosier, Macnair, Wilkes, Travers, and Snape.”

“All the seventh-year boys,” James said, swearing under his breath. He glanced at Lily, whose face
had gone very pale. He knew that despite the fact that she was no longer on speaking terms with
Snape, the sound of his name from Anna’s mouth likely still felt like a stab to the heart. He moved
to put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Lily.”

“Don’t,” Lily said abruptly, flinching away from his touch and shaking her head. “It’s—it’s not
like I didn’t expect it.”

James nodded and drew his hand back. Anna said nothing, but James saw her eyes flick between
them curiously. Lily seemed to steel herself, taking a deep breath before facing Anna again. “Any
younger students?” she asked, her voice brisk. Anna hesitated.

“I think there might be,” she said slowly. “But I can’t be sure exactly who they are. I don’t think
there are any in sixth year. There aren’t that many prominent pureblood elitists in that year.”

“So, you think there might be people in your year?” James asked, looking at her intently. Anna
paused again, her eyes flicking between them. Not for the first time, James wondered if they could
trust this girl. They had no idea what she could be holding back or lying about.

“I think there might be,” she said, her voice cautious. “Some of the people in my year are pretty
vocal about their interest in Voldemort. Alecto Carrow and her brother, Amycus, are really
bloodthirsty, for example. I’m sure they’d love to join. Still, everyone’s being quiet about it. The
only reason I know who in seventh year joined is because Wilkes and Macnair were bragging
about it being all of the people in their dorm. They’re the ones who got that rumor started. I don’t
think they were supposed to be talking about it, though. Rosier didn’t seem pleased.”

James tensed at the mention of the Slytherin seventh-year prefect. There was no doubt in James’
mind that Rosier was the leader of their little gang and kept them in check.

“Have you heard anything else?” Lily asked. “Anything about what they’re doing? Are they doing
anything in the castle?”

Anna shook her head. “I don’t know anything else right now,” she said. “The seventh years
whisper a lot in the common room but I can’t get close enough without drawing suspicion. They
don’t trust me. I don’t have many friends in Slytherin, these days.” She looked exceptionally sad as
she said it, and James’ heart ached for her. He couldn’t know the story behind her expression, but
clearly, she’d lost a friend, or perhaps friends. Maybe that was why she was telling them this.

Anna seemed to shake the sadness off her face, setting her jaw as she looked up at them. “I can tell
you if I learn anything new, though,” she said determinedly. “That’s why I came to talk to you,
really. I know you don’t have anyone to tell you about what’s going on in Slytherin yet. I can try to
keep my ears open, try to find things out.”

“We don’t want you to put yourself at risk,” James said quickly. “You’re too young to—”

“If people my age are old enough to be recruited by Voldemort, I’m old enough to try and fight
him,” Anna said, a defiant expression settling on her face, her eyes flashing. “I want to help.” At
that moment, despite his misgivings, James knew that they could trust her. Perhaps she was
holding a thing or two back, but she wasn’t trying to trick them. She wanted to help.

James sighed and looked over at Lily. She looked back at him, her green eyes troubled, but she
shrugged slightly, as if to say: What other choice do we have? James turned to look at Anna again,
his gaze hard as he examined her. Her jaw was set, her dark eyes blazing. She wouldn’t be
dissuaded, he knew, and he couldn’t blame her. After all, he would’ve done the exact same thing if
he’d had the chance at fifteen.

“Okay,” he conceded finally. “But you’ve got to be careful. Listen, but don’t ask questions that you
think might make people suspicious of you.” Anna nodded eagerly.

“I’ll tell you what I find out, if anything,” she said, moving to walk away.

“Wait, Anna, one more thing,” James called after her, and she turned back to look at him curiously.
James glanced at Lily, who shot him a confused look. Still, he had to satisfy his own curiosity. “I
was wondering if you know anything about Stephen Macmillan,” he asked Anna, studying her
carefully.

A strange, cautious look passed over Anna’s face, and she looked up at James searchingly. “Why
do you want to know about him?”

“My friend Sirius and I found him in a fight with Barty Crouch Jr. and John Selwyn a few weeks
ago,” James explained. “They said he was trying to get into the Slytherin common room to talk to
someone. Do you know anything about it?”

James knew that this question had little to do with the information Anna had agreed to pass to
them, which was related to Voldemort and his hold on the Slytherin students, but he had to ask
anyway. He’d been keeping an eye on Stephen ever since this encounter, and had noticed that he’d
acquired a black eye only a few days previously.

Anna hesitated. “I—It’s not really related to Voldemort,” she said. She hesitated again, her eyes
flicking from Lily to James. “If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell anyone about this. Not
anyone. Stephen is a friend of mine, and what happened can’t get around.”

“If it’s related to Voldemort—” Lily started, but Anna shook her head.

“It’s not information that could be useful,” she insisted. “Not really, anyway. And even if it
was...I’m asking you not to share it.”

“Why would you tell us, then?” James asked, narrowing his eyes at her. “If he’s your friend?”

Anna shrugged helplessly. “I don’t want Stephen to get hurt,” she said. “He’s been putting himself
at risk, and more eyes looking out for him might protect him. But no one else, promise?”

James and Lily both nodded. “We promise,” James said solemnly, hoping he wouldn’t regret it.

Anna nodded. “All I’ll say,” she started carefully. “Is that he had a—” She hesitated again. “A
friendship with one of the boys who I think became a Death Eater. After he joined, the boy stopped
talking to Stephen. Stephen’s tried to talk to him, but he won’t see him. That’s why he was trying to
break into the Slytherin common room.”

James nodded slowly, his mind whirring. “Can you tell me who he was friends with?”

“I can’t,” Anna said, avoiding his gaze. “I’m sorry, James.” James knew that she meant that she
wouldn’t tell him, not that she didn’t know, but he didn’t blame her for it. It was, after all, the
confidence of a friend she was putting at risk now, and he understood that kind of loyalty.

“Thanks, Anna,” James said. “We won’t tell anyone. And if I can, I’ll try to protect Stephen.”

“Thank you, James,” Anna said. She ducked her head and turned, walking away, her shoulders
now slumped, looking defeated. At a distance, Lily and James began to follow her out of the alley
in silence. When they reached the high street, they turned, watching Anna as she trudged up the
lane toward the castle.

“You’ll keep your promise, right?” Lily asked James, breaking him out of his thoughts. He turned
to look at her.

“Of course I will,” he said. “She’s right; it’s not information that should be put to use, even if it
could be.”

“Poor Stephen,” Lily said sadly. “Poor Anna. If I had to guess based on her reaction, the boy she
was talking about was probably friends with her, too, before he joined the Death Eaters. I wonder
why he joined. Do you have any idea who it could be?”

James nodded slowly. “I have a guess,” he said, his eyes still on Anna’s retreating figure, the white
snow contrasting with the jet black of her hair. Then he turned to look at Lily. “But it’s just a
hunch, not worth sharing. And I hope I’m wrong.” He looked past her, then, towards where Sirius
and Remus had just appeared from the Three Broomsticks, laughing. I have to be wrong, he
thought desperately.

....

After their talk with Anna, neither James nor Lily could quite get the conversation out of their
minds. They went to the Three Broomsticks, discussing it in low voices over their butterbeers.
Even after they’d exhausted the topic and headed to Honeydukes for a change of pace, James knew
that Lily, like him, was still preoccupied. It was a rather unfortunate thing to happen on their date,
but on the other hand, it didn’t stop him from enjoying her company. Even with the reminder of the
war, having Lily beside him was a comfort. They’d worked as a team since the beginning of
seventh year in their duties as Head Boy and Girl, and James liked the feeling of unity, even
against the threat of Voldemort.

When they headed back up to the castle together, the sun was low in the sky, and they parted ways
in the Great Hall, Lily going off to sit with Mary while he joined the other Marauders. When he
told them of the events of the day, none were shocked by the news of who in Slytherin were Death
Eaters, yet all three were more optimistic than James was.

“We have someone in Slytherin now to tell us what’s going on,” Sirius said, clapping a hand on
James’ shoulder. “That’s great progress, mate.” Remus nodded encouragingly, while Peter
managed a slight smile.

James had, of course, kept his promise to Anna, and not shared the latter part of their conversation,
not even with Sirius, who’d witnessed the fight between Stephen Macmillan and the two Slytherin
fifth-year boys. It felt like a betrayal, not telling his best friend, but James had promised Anna, and
he wouldn’t break it. The part that nagged at him most was his suspicion of who she’d been
speaking about. He remembered, after all, the peculiar way in which Stephen Macmillan had
refused to look at Sirius, and how, when he finally had looked at him, his gaze had been full of
unexplained rage.

“I’m not giving up,” Stephen had said to Sirius, glaring at him. James knew well how much Sirius
looked like his younger brother, and the way that their last interaction had ended. If Stephen had
been friends with Regulus, perhaps he blamed Sirius for leaving his brother behind...for giving up
on him. If this was true, however, James knew that Stephen was wrong: Sirius had never given up
on his brother.

“Earth to Prongs,” Sirius said, waving a hand in front of James’ face. James turned, blinking at
him. He was sitting on the window seat in the common room, looking out of the tower window at
the dark grounds. Snow was falling outside and the glass had little crystals of ice on its outer rim.

“What’s up?” he asked Sirius. Sirius grinned at him.

“Is your mind still exhausted from trying to comprehend that you actually went on a date with
Lily?” he quipped. James rolled his eyes at his best friend.

“No, my brain’s just fine, Padfoot,” he said. “What do you want?”

“Fair enough,” Sirius said, amusement still tinging his voice. “I just wanted to let you know I’m off
to bed.”

“What time is it?” James asked, confused.

“Ten,” Sirius said, shrugging. “I’m actually surprised you haven’t turned in yet. It’s late for you.”

“And early for you,” James said, raising his eyebrows. “I suppose going to bed is code for going to
put a silencing charm on your bed and snog Moony?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Sirius said, sending a wink James’ way that made James pretend to
retch. Sirius snorted, rolling his eyes. “Nah, it’s a little weird to know that you and Wormtail are in
the same room, silencing charm or not.”

“So, you’re going to go cuddle and tell each other your deep dark secrets, then?” James asked,
smirking broadly. Sirius’ cheeks actually tinged pink at his words, and he turned abruptly and
walked away towards the boys’ dormitory stairs, flicking James the bird as he left. James
sniggered slightly. He enjoyed being able to tease Sirius for being a romantic sop these days. It
was well-earned payback for all the years Sirius had done the same for him.

James stretched, looking around. He was surprised to see that the common room was empty, as it
wasn’t very late. Of course, it was a Sunday, and people did have classes the following morning, so
perhaps that was it. Just as he was about to stand, preparing to follow Sirius and go to bed, too, he
spotted a head of dark red hair by the fire. Apparently, the common room hadn’t been as empty as
he’d thought. Lily’s dark red braid shone in the firelight. She’d removed her coat and appeared to
be staring into the flames, lost in thought. He cleared his throat softly, and she started, turning to
look at him.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said, smiling and rising to her feet. “I thought I was alone.”

“Me too,” James replied. “I suppose everyone’s feeling especially sleepy this evening.”

Lily wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep tonight at all,” she
admitted. “I keep thinking about the conversation with Anna, about what she told us. Of course, we
knew that there were likely Death Eaters in the school before, but to have it confirmed…” She
shivered, a faraway look in her eyes. James nodded.

“It’s strange,” he said. “The war seems so close, all of a sudden.” Lily gave him a sad half-smile.
“I don’t want to think about it,” she said, sighing. “I’ve thought about it too much, talked about it
too much, and now I just want to be distracted.”

James gave her a soft smile. He was tired, sure, but he wouldn’t leave her alone just now. “Well,
what do you want to do, then?” he asked. She looked up at him, and all of a sudden, the sad,
troubled look in her eyes dissolved, replaced with a sparkle of mischief.

“I have an idea,” she said. James swallowed. The look in her eyes was dangerous, he thought:
playful and intent upon him. This was the kind of Lily Evans stare that he was no match against.
She hadn’t had this confidence earlier, on their date, and he was shocked by how quickly her
demeanor had shifted.

“Yes?” he asked nervously.

“Let me paint you a picture,” Lily said, smiling at him, clearly already having noticed her effect
upon his nerves, and enjoying it. “It’s the spring of third year, the middle of April. We’re fourteen,
we just finished a grueling week of essays, and on Friday evening, Dorcas comes upstairs to tell
me that the Marauders are having a party in their dormitory.”

“We weren’t even calling ourselves the Marauders back then,” James said, grinning reminiscently.
“And to call it a party would be a stretch.”

“So you do remember,” Lily said, beaming at him. James laughed.

“Of course.” He let his mind go back, and pictured the day. Third year had been much more work
than the previous years, and by the middle of the term, it was all piling up. He and Marlene had
been somewhat revived by their Quidditch practice that afternoon, under their old Captain, Sam
Thomas, and in the changing rooms, James had had the idea of having the girls over for a sort of
celebration.

“Well,” Lily said, continuing her story. “I think, for once, why the fuck not? Of course, when I was
in third year I wouldn’t have swore, but you get the gist. It’s better than sitting alone in my
dormitory, reading my books and catching up on homework. No matter how poor the company.”
James laughed loudly, and she smiled wider.

“I get to your dormitory, which is infinitely cleaner than I ever expected,” she said. He smiled
sheepishly then, knowing that they’d cleaned it beforehand so as to impress the girls. But from the
twinkle in Lily’s eye, he knew she hadn’t been fooled.

“We play some games. Exploding Snap, Truth or Dare,” she continued. “But, like most groups of
pubescent teenagers, we soon progress onto—”

“Spin the Bottle,” James said. He’d stopped smiling and was just looking at Lily, his gaze intense,
drinking her in, waiting hungrily for her next words. He was suddenly very aware of how much
distance there was between them. She smiled, and, as if reading his mind, walked around the couch
and leaned against it, facing him, though they were still a few yards apart.

“Dorcas spins first, and lands on Sirius,” she said. “Then I spin.”

“And land on me,” James almost whispered. He thought he’d never seen a more beautiful sight
than Lily Evans, a mischievous smile on her face, leaning on the old, faded sofa, and looking
across at him. Her green eyes twinkled in the low light, beckoning him forward, but he was frozen,
just staring at her.

“I turn to you,” Lily said, pushing herself up and moving towards him slowly. “And you just laugh
and ruffle your hair like an arrogant idiot.”

“I mess up my hair when I’m nervous,” James said without thinking, his voice slightly hoarse as he
watched her draw closer. She smiled and stopped in front of him, obviously choosing to ignore his
statement.

“You know what you do, then?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper, as they were only a foot
apart. He was speechless, staring at her. With him still sitting on the window seat, they were
almost precisely at eye level with each other. She gazed at him, still smiling. “You lean forward
and you kiss me.”

He swallowed, his eyes going down to her lips and flicking back up to her eyes. At fourteen, he
remembered thinking he knew what he was doing, since he’d already had a “girlfriend,” and
considered himself experienced. Now, that thought was laughable. He wondered if she’d enjoyed
that kiss.

“Once the kiss is over,” Lily continued. “You wink at me, and I curse myself for the butterflies in
my stomach. And then for weeks, every time you look at me, I can’t help but blush.”

“You fancied me back then?” James asked, taken aback. Lily grinned.

“For a time,” she admitted. “This was before you spent most of fifth year repeatedly driving me
away with your annoying flirting, obviously.”

“I didn’t realize,” he breathed, staring at her, mesmerized. To think that so long ago, she’d fancied
him, before he’d ever fancied her. It felt like fate, but she might call him ridiculous for saying that.

“Oh, James,” she said, her voice full of affection and something else. “You never did get any better
at making the first move, did you?” As he stared back at her, a flash of vulnerability crossed her
face again, the same look he’d seen in Hogsmeade before they’d been interrupted by Anna. She
searched his eyes for a moment, then slowly, hesitantly, she stepped forward to kiss him.

When her lips met his, they were soft, gentle. The first brush of their mouths was barely a kiss, just
the hint of one. Still, James couldn’t stop the slight shiver that went through his whole body at the
brush of her lips on his. After that, it only took a few seconds for the heat to rush up between them.
One of James’ hands went to Lily’s waist, the other cupped her cheek, and he pulled her closer
against him. She smiled into the kiss, her lips moving against his, and it was bliss. He didn’t
remember much about their kiss from third year, but he had no doubt that it’d been nothing like
this. After all, in third year, he could never have even imagined kissing anyone in the way that he
was kissing Lily now, in the way that she was kissing him back, her body pressed against his, his
hand tracing along the generous curve of her waist. No matter how many times he’d dreamed of
this moment, he couldn’t have comprehended how wonderful it really was.

“We’re in the common room,” James said, reluctantly pulling back after several blissful moments.
Lily made a small, affirming noise in her throat, pressing back into him for another kiss. He pulled
back again, however, trying to reason with her, much as he hated to. “Anyone could just walk in.”

Lily pulled back, looking at him, her gaze slightly hazy. “What about—” She hesitated, biting her
lip and blushing. “What about your dorm? You can’t get into mine, obviously.”

James blinked at her, processing what she was asking him for a moment, then leapt to his feet.
“Come on,” he said, taking her hand and practically dragging her up the stairs. She giggled as she
followed him. James couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe that Lily Evans had
asked him if she could come up to his dorm room to snog, but it was real. Oh, Merlin, he thought
frantically. I hope it’s not too messy.

Thankfully, when he opened the door and led Lily into the room, there wasn’t much strewn across
the floor, and he silently thanked the heavens. Turning to Lily, he smiled at her, putting a finger to
his lips, and drew her back in for another kiss. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him, smiling too, but
their moment was broken by the sound of rustling in the background. James broke from the kiss,
turning, just as Lily looked past him for the source of the noise. The sound had come from Sirius’
bed, whose curtains were parted slightly by the form of a large black dog, who peered through the
opening at James and Lily. James swore under his breath. Clearly, Sirius had woken to the sound
of Lily and James arriving.

Lily’s mouth was open in shock as she stared at Sirius, then she rounded on James. “James, that’s
the dog!” she exclaimed, hands on her hips, looking from him to Sirius accusatorially. Sirius
clearly had completely forgotten how to act like a dog, as he just stood, all four legs on his four-
poster bed, and stared at Lily, the blank expression on his canine features exactly mirrored in
James’ face.

“Uh…” James said, looking from Lily to Sirius as if trying to ask him what to do.

“That’s the dog I saw on the grounds years ago, James Potter, don’t bother lying to me! And
you’ve snuck him in again!” Lily continued, glaring at James. James thought feebly that under
usual circumstances he’d find her very attractive, yelling at him like this, eyes blazing. Oh, who
was he kidding? Even under these circumstances, he was still incredibly attracted to her right then.

She furrowed her brow, some of her anger replaced by confusion. “Why is he in your dormitory?”

James looked from Lily, who was clearly expecting an answer, to the dog, then back again. Finally,
he sighed, and gave Sirius a tired look, shrugging weakly. Sirius tilted his head, then seemed to
shrug, too, as much as a dog could shrug.

A moment later, the human version of Sirius Black was sitting on the bed, giving James a rather
aggrieved and exasperated look. Lily screamed.

“You’re right,” James said to Lily, trying for a nervous smile. “That is the same dog.”

“Next time give me some warning when you’re planning on bringing someone to the dorm,” Sirius
said to James, flicking his hair away from his eyes and swinging his feet out of his bed. At the
sound of Lily’s scream, Remus had clearly woken, as the curtains of Sirius’ bed were jerked open
to reveal him, blinking at them, bleary-eyed and concerned. Peter, too, emerged from his own bed,
eyes wide and hair messy.

“What’s going on?” he asked, staring from Lily and James to Sirius and Remus. Lily was still
staring at Sirius with wide-eyed shock, and he seemed to be rather enjoying it.

“Dear Lily here just became privy to another one of our secrets,” Sirius said to Peter, still smirking
at Lily. “What’s the matter, Evans, never seen a dog before?”

Behind Sirius, Remus’ eyes widened, and he sat up straighter, looking more alert. Peter, too,
stiffened, staring at Lily, but her eyes were still frozen on Sirius. It seemed that even Sirius’ teasing
wasn’t enough to distract Lily from her shock at the moment. It took several, long moments for her
to speak.

Finally, she opened her mouth, and said, simply: “What the fuck?”

....
It took a while to satisfactorily explain the situation to Lily. She’d required them to go through it
several times, not quite believing the story until it was confirmed and clarified by all four boys.
Then, too, she demanded that all three transform to prove that their words were true. James had a
bit of trouble with this one, as his antlers became stuck between their bedposts, just as they had in
their fourth year, but once he’d transformed back, Lily finally seemed satisfied. Of course, she was
still exclaiming over their recklessness, but there was a note of admiration in her voice, too, as she
regarded the three boys.

“I still can’t believe you managed to keep it quiet from the teachers,” she said to James now, as she
lay in his bed, looking across at him. After a good half hour of explanations, Sirius had declared
himself exhausted and drawn the hangings of his bed shut around him and Remus. Peter, too, had
melted away, leaving James to suggest that he and Lily retire to his bed to talk more with a
silencing charm around them.

James shrugged, smiling. “Sometimes I still marvel at it, myself,” he said. “Especially
McGonagall.”

“It really is extraordinary magic,” Lily said, gazing at him, a slight smile on her face. “McGonagall
would be proud after she finished giving you detention for the rest of your life.”

James laughed. “Maybe one day I’ll tell her,” he said. “Though we are all unregistered, so it’s
pretty illegal, too. She might turn me in.”

Lily laughed. “I doubt she’d do that,” she said. “I mean, who really cares if you’re an unregistered
Animagus, just as long as you’re not using it to hide from the law or something like that?”

“Bold of you to assume that we don’t use it to hide from the law,” James replied, grinning at her.

“Oh, silly me,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “I’m sure that’ll be in one or more of your futures, at
least.”

“Probably,” James said, laughing. He looked across at her in the low light and smiled. “You know,
you’re the first person in the world who knows about this apart from the four of us.”

“Really?” Lily asked, a surprised but slightly flattered smile coming across her face. “I assumed
that maybe your parents, or Dorcas and Marlene—”

James shook his head. “My mum would pitch a fit if she knew,” he said, shuddering slightly. “As
for Dorcas and Marlene, they’re not too fussed about what we do when it’s just the four of us. They
mostly just laugh about our Marauder weirdness and go off to do their own thing.”

Lily smiled. “I am quite nosy,” she said. “I suppose that’s how I found out about Remus being a
werewolf, too, when no one else did apart from you all.”

“Yeah,” James said, raising his eyebrows in amusement at her. “And about Sirius and Remus, and
Dorcas and Marlene. You knew about all of them before me. What other secrets are you keeping
for the people around here?”

“I think I’m all out of secrets, to be honest,” Lily admitted. “All of the ones I thought I knew came
to light this year. We’re on the same footing now. Though I do wonder what things Tia knows that
I don’t.”

“Hestia?” James asked, raising his eyebrows. Lily nodded.

“Apparently, she suspected that Dorcas had feelings for Marlene all the way back in third year,”
she said. “I suppose she’s better at reading people than even I am.”

“Well, hopefully there aren’t too many secrets left to be discovered,” James said. “I’d rather things
be out in the open, especially now.”

“Perhaps,” Lily said pensively. “Sometimes, though, we keep secrets from people for their own
good. Sometimes there’s nothing to be gained from telling people things.”

“Hmm,” James said thoughtfully, thinking of Sirius in the bed next to his, and of their conversation
with Anna. It took him a few seconds to register the searching look that Lily was giving him.

“You think the boy Stephen was friends with was Sirius’ brother, don’t you?” she asked him, no
doubt noting the troubled look in his eyes. “You think that Regulus is a Death Eater.”

James sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I—I don’t want to believe it,” he said. “But yeah, I
think it might be him.”

Lily nodded. “And you’re not going to tell Sirius?”

“I can’t, can I?” James asked. “We promised Anna we wouldn’t tell anyone what she told us about
Stephen.”

Lily nodded again slowly. “We did,” she confirmed, looking conflicted. She sighed, staring down
at her right hand, which she was running over his sheets absentmindedly. James reached over and
took her hand in his, intertwining their fingers. She looked up at him and smiled tiredly.

“Is this what it’s like to be in a real relationship, then? Sharing these kinds of secrets?”

James shrugged, smiling across at her. “I wouldn’t really know,” he said. “You might be a better
authority on that than me.”

Lily shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “I never felt this way about Davey, really. We never
talked like this, even though we went out for months. Anyway, I’d say that you’re the authority,
not me. I’ve only been in one relationship, and you’ve been in two.”

“Two?” James echoed, furrowing his brow in confusion. “What do you mean? I’ve only ever been
in one, and it hardly counts, seeing as we were only thirteen.”

“Huh?” Lily said, looking perplexed now, too. “Sarah and Miranda. That’s two.”

“Miranda?” James asked, taken aback. “I was never in a relationship with Miranda. We went on
one date.”

“What?” Lily demanded, lifting her head slightly now to stare at him. “I thought you dated for the
whole of last year!”

“What gave you that impression?” James asked, raising his eyebrows at her in confusion.

“Well, you spent a lot of time together. You were always going off to meet her for study sessions
and things.”

“Yeah, because we were studying together,” James said patiently, a smile now spreading across his
face. “And we were friends. We’re friends still, actually.”

“But—but—” Lily said, obviously trying to wrap her head around the information. “But your
date!”
James laughed and stroked his free hand down Lily’s hair. “It’s true we went on a date. But when I
asked her for a second one that day, Miranda told me no. Do you know why?” Lily shook her head,
eyes trained on his face. James grinned at her. “Because when we ran into you and Davey outside
of Honeydukes that day, apparently the look on my face when I saw you was a little too adoring.
Miranda told me she respected herself too much to go on a second date with a bloke who clearly
still had feelings for someone else. That was why running into each other today was so funny for
us.”

“I—you—“ Lily started, then stopped, clearly lost for words. She just stared at James, her green
eyes wide and vulnerable. “You really had feelings for me all that time?” she asked softly,
disbelievingly, after a moment. James smiled at her.

“Yeah, I did,” he admitted. “You’re difficult to shake, Lily Evans. And I’m glad I didn’t shake
you.”

“Difficult to shake…” Lily repeated contemplatively, smiling. “I’ll put that on a list of my
qualities.”

“Difficult to shake, and easy to love,” James said softly, looking at her. He didn’t think he could
ever get enough of the way she looked right now, in the low light, her red hair escaping from her
messy braid and her green eyes shining. “A lethal combination, really.”

Lily stared at him, and James felt his heartbeat quicken. Of course, she must’ve known that he
loved her. All this time, he’d had feelings for her, and at some point along the way, it’d
transcended from a simple infatuation and become something more. Still, he knew it was
ridiculous of him to be baring his heart so early. Perhaps it was the war or the fact that their time at
Hogwarts was drawing quickly to a close that was making him speed up, or perhaps it was just the
fact that James was a hopeless romantic who, as Lily had correctly stated, wore his heart on his
sleeve.

“Sorry, too fast?” he asked her, smiling ruefully.

Lily shook her head, tears filling her eyes as she continued to stare at him. He scanned her face, her
wide green eyes, bright with water, down to her mouth, where she was worrying her lip with her
teeth. He smiled, suddenly understanding, and brought her hand, still intertwined with his, up to his
lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “I’ll hold you when the sky falls, Lily Evans.”

“Good,” was all that she managed to choke out. He pulled her close to his chest, and Lily’s
breathing seemed to slow. It was warm against his neck, and he closed his eyes, smiling slightly.
He liked the feeling of having her close.

“More than Sarah, more than Miranda, you know my secrets, Lily, you know everything,” James
told her softly. “And you’ve had my heart for a while. Consider that you could break me just as
easily as I could break you.”

“That’s good,” Lily said, and James felt her smiling into his shirt. “Mutually assured destruction.
It’s a good insurance policy.”

James let out a soft laugh and held her closer to him. They didn’t speak again for a long while, just
lay there, her hands twined together behind his back, his hands resting against the fabric of her
shirt, holding her to him.

“Can I stay here tonight?” Lily asked him, her voice sounding sleepy. He remembered her saying
that she wasn’t sure if she could sleep that night. Perhaps all the revelations had tired her out since
then.

James smiled, inhaling the flowery smell of her hair. “Of course.”

Gradually, her breathing began to grow slower, softer against him, and his eyelids grew heavy. It
was late, after all, and Lily’s body was warm and soft against his, the sound of her slow breathing
lulling him into unconsciousness. His last thought before he fell asleep was that this, too, was even
more wonderful than he’d ever imagined.
 1978: For What It's Worth
Chapter Notes

cw: non-major character death

See the end of the chapter for more notes

There's battle lines being drawn

Nobody's right if everybody's wrong

Young people speaking their minds

Getting so much resistance from behind

- "For What It's Worth," Buffalo Springfield

“Whether you wish to join the Order of the Phoenix or not is completely your choice, Emmeline,”
Professor Dumbledore said solemnly. “And not a decision to be made lightly.”

Emmeline blinked across the desk at the Hogwarts headmaster, shocked by what he’d just asked
her. She flashed back to that morning, when Lily, very mysteriously, had come up to her and told
her that Professor Dumbledore wanted to speak to her alone. When she’d asked Lily what it was
about, the other girl had just shaken her head and said that she couldn’t talk about it but that
Emmeline shouldn’t worry. So Emmeline had left for the headmaster’s office when the rest of her
classmates headed to Herbology, as she had a free period, and sat down to talk to Dumbledore
about the organization he called ‘The Order of the Phoenix.’

“Why me?” Emmeline asked finally. It was the first time she’d said anything since Dumbledore
had started to explain why he’d invited her to his office.

“A very good question,” Dumbledore replied, considering Emmeline over his half-moon glasses.
“My full train of thought is long and winding, to be sure, with many factors and considerations
taken into account, but the simplest answer would be that I’m looking everywhere for witches and
wizards who want to help in the war effort, whom I believe I can trust. As I’ve received news of
the growing presence of Death Eaters both within Hogwarts and in the world outside our walls,
I’ve been searching with greater urgency still. I see potential in you, Emmeline, as well as many of
your classmates. I’ve received positive reports from Professor McGonagall on your character, as
well as from Professor Abbott on your aptitude for Defense Against the Dark Arts. I believe you
have what it takes.”

“So you’re asking my classmates to join, too?” Emmeline asked in some relief. She was glad to
know that she wasn’t being singled out, and more than that, that if she chose to join, she wouldn’t
be alone among strangers. Professor Dumbledore nodded.

“Yes, I’m inviting certain seventh-year students who I have reason to believe would be suited for
the Order, from reports of my staff and my own personal knowledge of them,” he said. “I’m
speaking to each student individually, however, as I don’t want others to have an influence on their
decision. Additionally, if it is your or anyone’s decision not to join, it is your prerogative to keep it
to yourself if you wish.”

Emmeline took a deep breath and drew her familiar calm façade over her features like a cloak,
despite the fact that it felt less than genuine at the moment. “Can I have some time to think about
it?”

Dumbledore smiled and nodded. “Of course,” he said. “I would never expect you to make this
decision quickly. At any rate, none of you will be able to join the Order until you have graduated.
You may take the time until the end of the term to decide. But I will ask you to keep the circle of
people who you inform about the existence of the Order small, Emmeline. It would not do for
everyone to know about it.”

“I won’t spread the information around,” Emmeline promised.

“Well, then,” Dumbledore said, standing up from his chair and smiling at her, his blue eyes
twinkling. “You are free to go. I hope the rest of your day goes smoothly. Enjoy the weather.”

Emmeline rose and cast a perplexed glance towards the window, through which she could see the
downpour of rain outside. Still, she gave Dumbledore a smile and exited the office. Her feet carried
her down the stairs to the rest of the castle, and from there, she paid no attention to where she was
going. Thoughts thrummed through her mind, parts of Dumbledore’s explanation coming back to
her as she walked.

The Order was a secret organization, he’d said, made up of adult witches and wizards of various
occupations, aimed at fighting Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Dumbledore had formed it
over the summer, when the first Death Eater attack had happened. He hadn’t gone into specifics of
who was involved, but clearly, he was still building its ranks. Emmeline wondered who he’d ask to
join other than her. She assumed that James and Lily had already been briefed, as they were Head
Boy and Girl, and had been working with Dumbledore throughout the year to gather information
from the Hogwarts houses about the war. Perhaps he’d ask all of the members of their seventh-year
Defense Against the Dark Arts class...well, the people who weren’t blood purists, at least. Then
again, perhaps he’d be more choosy. How would he pick? What had Professor McGonagall and
Professor Abbott told Dumbledore about Emmeline that made him choose to ask her?

Emmeline realized where she was for the first time when she reached the base of the Grand
Staircase. She still had quite a bit of time before she had to head to Charms, however. Emmeline
itched to talk to Hestia, to tell her about all that Dumbledore had shared with her, but currently, her
best friend was holed up in the greenhouses with the rest of the seventh-year Gryffindors in double
Herbology. Emmeline was the only one of her friends who hadn’t continued the class to the
N.E.W.T. level. Even if Hestia hadn’t been in class, however, could Emmeline talk to her about it?
Would Dumbledore ask Hestia to join the Order? If he didn’t, he was a fool, Emmeline thought.

Emmeline sighed, looking around, wondering where to go. She couldn’t take a walk on the
grounds in this downpour; she’d already been out in it earlier that day at Quidditch practice, which
had been an entirely unpleasant experience for everyone involved. She resolved, instead, to head to
the kitchens. Emmeline had always liked to spend time there; she even had a few house-elves who
she considered to be her friends.

Emmeline followed the narrow corridor in the direction of the Hufflepuff common room and
tickled the pear in the painting of fruit that covered the secret entrance to the place where the
house-elves lived and worked. The door swung open to reveal the grand room, large as the Great
Hall above it, and several house-elves turned to greet her as she entered.
“Miss Emmeline,” one squeaky voice exclaimed. Emmeline looked down to see a beaming house-
elf looking up at her, her long ears wagging happily.

“Hi, Posey,” Emmeline greeted the house-elf, smiling. “How are you?”

“Posey is doing very well, miss,” Posey said, twinkling up at Emmeline. “Did miss come to inquire
about our preparations for Purim again, on Wednesday? Posey is quite sure that we have all the
supplies and directions correct for the pastries miss told us about.” The house-elf gave her a little
curtsey as she said this, as if to make sure that Emmeline wasn’t offended by her words. Emmeline
smiled and shook her head.

“No, Posey, I know you’ve got it covered,” she said. “Thank you again for agreeing to bake them.”

“Of course, miss,” Posey said, blushing and beaming at Emmeline. “What does miss require,
then?”

“I’d love some hot chocolate, please, Posey, if that’s not too much trouble for you,” Emmeline
said. “If you’re busy with your work, though, don’t worry.”

“Posey is never too busy to serve you, miss!” Posey exclaimed, hurrying off to get Emmeline her
hot chocolate. Emmeline smiled after her and took a seat at one of the long tables which were made
to look like the house tables above. Moments later, Posey was back, a mug of hot chocolate floating
in front of her. It glided down to rest in front of Emmeline and she wrapped her hands around it
gratefully.

“Thank you so much, Posey,” she told the house-elf, who gave her another little curtsey and smile.

“Of course, miss,” Posey said. “If miss requires anything else, Posey will be just over there.”

Emmeline nodded, and with that, Posey turned and hurried back over to the other house-elves,
leaving Emmeline to look down into her hot chocolate. The warmth of the mug was comforting in
her hands, and she clutched it for a long time before lifting it to her lips to take a sip. The dark
liquid slid down her throat, warm and sweet, and she let out a long sigh. Emmeline would fast for
the whole of the following day in preparation for Purim, so she was trying to savor every last drop
of food and drink until then. Still, it was hard to do so when her mind was so preoccupied.

Dumbledore’s offer to join the Order of the Phoenix seemed, on the one hand, to be exactly what
Emmeline had wanted. All of the Gryffindor seventh years were always talking about how they
wanted to help, how they wanted to fight Voldemort. Still...now that the offer was in front of her,
Emmeline had to admit that she was afraid. Dumbledore had warned her of the danger. He’d told
her that at that moment, he couldn’t accurately predict what sort of danger she’d be putting herself
in by joining the Order. In any given mission, he said, he was unlikely to have a full picture of what
risks the members would be taking on, or what would be awaiting them. However, Emmeline was
no fool. She knew that by joining the Order of the Phoenix, she’d be taking her life into her own
hands, signing herself up for the very real possibility that she’d die fighting for what she believed
in. Was she crazy, therefore, knowing that as soon as Dumbledore had begun explaining about the
Order, she knew she’d join it? While Emmeline had said that she needed time to decide, there was
no choice, really. The time was for her to wrap her head around the enormity of what she was
agreeing to.

Emmeline took her time in finishing her hot chocolate, then stood, thanking Posey and the other
house-elves, and left the kitchens for the castle above. As she emerged, she heard the bell ringing
to signal the end of the previous class period. She hurried up the stairs toward her Charms
classroom and reached it just as the rest of the seventh years did, fresh from Herbology.
Emmeline’s eyes found her best friend first, noticing as she did so that Hestia’s dark hair had
droplets of water on it, presumably from her trek through the wet grounds back to the castle.

Hestia gave Emmeline a smile when she spotted her, about to head into the classroom. Her smile
quickly fell from her face as she examined Emmeline, and when they slid into neighboring seats,
Hestia leaned over to her best friend, her eyes searching. “What’s wrong?” she asked in a low
voice.

“Nothing,” Emmeline answered, giving her friend what she knew was an unconvincing smile.
When Hestia raised her eyebrows at her, Emmeline shook her head. “We’ll talk later.”

Hestia didn’t press her, and they settled in to listen to Professor Flitwick’s lesson in silence. Still,
Emmeline was more restless than usual, her mind wandering back to her conversation with
Dumbledore, and Hestia kept shooting her concerned looks. After the lesson, Hestia cornered
Emmeline on the way to lunch.

“What’s going on?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you so on edge?”

Before Emmeline could open her mouth to respond, however, Lily approached them. She gave
Emmeline a smile but turned to address Hestia. “Professor Dumbledore wants to see you, Tia,” she
said. “If you’re free now, that is.”

Hestia’s eyes widened. “What does he want to see me about?” she asked Lily with some concern.
“I’m not in trouble, am I?”

“No, don’t worry,” Lily said, giving her a comforting smile. “It’s nothing like that. But I can’t tell
you why, I’m sorry.”

Hestia looked to Emmeline, who gave her an encouraging nod. Hestia’s eyes narrowed
suspiciously at this, looking from Emmeline to Lily, but she obviously knew that she’d get no
more answers from either girl, so she turned and headed off in the direction of the headmaster’s
office instead, her dark hair swishing behind her. Emmeline watched her go, relief flooding through
her. She was glad that Hestia was being asked to join the Order, too. That quelled any anxiety she
had about telling her friend about her conversation with Dumbledore.

When Hestia was gone, Lily gave her a smile. “Are you alright, Em?” Her gaze was concerned, her
words warm as she studied Emmeline. Emmeline returned her smile.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” she replied. “Still processing, but alright.”

“It took me a while to wrap my head around the whole thing, too,” Lily said, “after Dumbledore
asked James and me.” She turned towards the Great Hall and Emmeline fell into step beside her,
the two girls walking slowly towards lunch together.

“When did he ask you?”

“About a week ago,” Lily said.

“I suppose he asked you not to tell any of us about it until he spoke to us personally?” Emmeline
guessed.

Lily nodded. “He told James and me to let people know he wanted to speak to them individually,
but to not say anything else, and not to tell them who else was being called in,” she said. “He wants
to make sure that if people want to refuse and keep it to themselves, their classmates won’t know. I
thought it was safe to approach Hestia with you around, though. You two tell each other
everything.”

“Yeah, I’m glad you did,” Emmeline said. “I couldn’t imagine doing it without Hestia.”

Lily nodded, glancing over at her. “So, you’re going to join, then?”

“I am,” Emmeline said, feeling a little dizzy at the enormity of the decision. “I haven’t given
Dumbledore my answer officially yet, though. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.” She
glanced over at Lily. “Are you going to join?”

Lily nodded. “James and I both are,” she said. “James was ready to sign up right then and there, of
course, when Dumbledore told us. Dumbledore told him that he wouldn’t accept his decision until
he’d at least slept on it, though, so of course, James was back at Dumbledore’s office first thing the
next morning. I took a couple more days to think everything through.”

Emmeline nodded, smiling slightly. That sounded like James. She’d never met anyone who more
entirely encapsulated the Gryffindor trait of chivalry than him.

“Are you scared?” Emmeline asked Lily, glancing over at her again, trying to search her expression
for any of the uncertainty she herself was feeling.

Lily hesitated, then met Emmeline’s eyes. Something in them made her smile, and she let out a
nervous laugh. “Terrified,” she admitted.

“Me too,” Emmeline said, feeling relieved again by the admission. “It’s the right thing to do, but
it’s a lot of risk to take on, all the same.”

“Yeah, it is,” Lily said. “I couldn’t believe James wrapped his head around all of it so quickly. He
doesn’t even seem afraid.”

As she said this, they entered the Great Hall, and Emmeline followed Lily’s eyes to where James
was sitting, talking with the rest of the Marauders. The silly grin that came over Lily’s face made
Emmeline smile, too, a smile which only broadened when she saw James turn to look at his
girlfriend, a truly besotted look coming over his face in return. The two had started officially dating
only a month previously, but Emmeline knew that it’d been a long time coming, both from what
she’d observed over the years and the details that she’d learned through the grapevine over the past
few months.

“I’ll join you in a minute,” Lily told Emmeline, smiling and moving towards James. Emmeline
smiled and shook her head in amusement, watching Lily place a kiss on James’ upturned lips, then
moving to sit with Dorcas, Marlene, and Mary.

“Where’s Hestia?” Dorcas asked as Emmeline sat down. Emmeline shrugged.

“She said she had something to do before she could join us for lunch,” Emmeline covered easily. If
the other girls hadn’t been invited to speak to Dumbledore yet, she didn’t want to give them reason
to worry. Dorcas looked slightly confused, but Marlene turned to Emmeline before she could ask
anything further about Hestia’s whereabouts.

“Did you manage to get in touch with my mam about the Oxford job?”

“Yeah, she was great,” Emmeline replied, nodding and smiling. “Thanks for getting me in contact
with her.”

Marlene smiled. “No problem,” she said. “It’s cool to think you might work where she does. The
magical branch of the University of Oxford is super neat. She used to bring me to work with her
sometimes when I was a kid.”

“I really hope it works out,” Emmeline said. “Imogen said that the Runes department is quite large,
and if I work there, I’ll likely travel all around the world, doing research and such. They’re
selective, though. I might not make it.”

“I bet you will,” Mary encouraged her. “You got an Outstanding in our Ancient Runes O.W.L.,
after all! And you’re one of the only people who scraped an O.W.L. in History of Magic at all. I
still can’t believe you took it to N.E.W.T.s.”

“Yeah, well, it’s better now that I can do it as an independent study,” Emmeline said. “Since no
one else continued it, I can just do my own research, rather than listen to Binns’ droning. The
material is really quite interesting when he’s not teaching it.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Marlene said, smirking slightly.

“How are your applications to the Auror office going, then?” Emmeline asked her in return.

“I finished them over the weekend,” Marlene replied, grinning. “Sent off by owl this morning,
actually. Sirius finished his, too, and James, though he’s just applying as a backup.”

“Congratulations!” Mary exclaimed, beaming over at her. “You should’ve said something earlier.”
Marlene shrugged modestly, while Dorcas gave her an affectionate look.

“And yours?” Mary asked Dorcas. “Aren’t the Healer ones pretty extensive?”

“They are,” Dorcas said, sighing. “I’m more than halfway through, though, and Tia, James, and I
have been working together on them, so that helps. Have you finished yours, Mary?”

“Not yet, I’m planning on working on them over the Easter holidays,” Mary replied. “The ones for
the creature sanctuaries aren’t due for a bit, so I have some time.”

“It’s all happening so quickly,” Dorcas said, sighing and glancing around at the Great Hall. “Soon,
we’ll be leaving this place.”

“Don’t, Dee,” Marlene groaned, scrunching her nose up in distaste and shaking her head. “We’ve
talked about this.”

Dorcas gave Marlene an apologetic smile and glanced over at Emmeline and Mary, who were both
looking confused. “I’m not supposed to get nostalgic about leaving until at least after N.E.W.T.s,”
she said in a conspiratorial whisper. “Marlene wants to be in denial for as long as possible.”

“Sounds like a good strategy,” Emmeline said, grinning. Just then, Lily slid into the seat next to
Mary, smiling at them all and pulling food in front of her.

“Hey, Lily,” Marlene greeted, smirking at her. “Nice of James to release you to us.” Emmeline
stifled a laugh, grinning across at Mary, who looked slightly amused, too.

“Oh, shut up,” Lily retorted, rolling her eyes at Marlene. “You’re one to talk.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marlene said innocently, a mischievous twinkle in her
blue eyes. Then, she spotted something over by the entrance, and called: “Oh, finally: Tia!”

Emmeline followed her gaze to find Hestia striding toward them. The slightly troubled look on her
face fell away when she caught sight of Marlene beckoning her toward them and she smiled,
sliding into a seat next to Lily, and across from Marlene.

“Hey,” Hestia said. “Sorry, I had to find a book from the library.”

As she sat down, her eyes met Emmeline’s across the table, and the two girls shared a meaningful
look. Emmeline searched her best friend’s face, trying to see how Hestia had reacted to
Dumbledore’s request. Her cheeks, which were filled with color most of the time, looked a little
less rosy than usual, her eyes a bit too wide. Still, Hestia hid her discomposure from the other girls
well.

“Tia,” Marlene said once Hestia was seated, giving her a winning smile. “Do you happen to have
an extra cutting of asphodel from Herbology that I could use for the homework?”

“No,” Hestia said, raising her eyebrows at Marlene and giving her an amused look. “What
happened to yours?”

Marlene groaned in disappointment. “It got all squished in my bag,” she said. “And no one I’ve
asked yet has an extra that I can propagate.”

“See if Miranda has one,” Lily suggested. “She loves Herbology, after all. If she doesn’t, just ask
Professor Sprout for another one. It’s not a big deal.”

“Sprout thinks I’m irresponsible with the plants,” Marlene whined. “Ever since I tried to get the
Venomous Tentacula to attack James in second year.”

“How judgemental of her,” Lily deadpanned, though the corners of her mouth were twitching
slightly.

Lunch lasted much longer than Emmeline could’ve thought possible, but by ten to one, Dorcas and
Mary had departed for their Care of Magical Creatures lesson and Emmeline caught Hestia’s eye
again at last. She raised her eyebrows at the other girl and Hestia nodded, standing.

“See you later, Marlene, Lily,” Emmeline said, waving to their two friends. Marlene gave them a
curious look but Lily nodded, already leaning toward Marlene, her gaze intent. Clearly Marlene
was the next to be called into Dumbledore’s office.

Emmeline’s and Hestia’s feet led them quickly up the Grand Staircase. They’d been heading for
the Astronomy Tower, one of their favorite haunts, but their progress was impeded by one of the
staircases unexpectedly changing as they climbed onto it.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Hestia exclaimed as the staircase came to a stop at a different landing.
Emmeline glanced at her friend, a slight, amused smile on her face.

“I suppose we could go to the Owlery instead?” she proposed, gesturing to the corridor ahead.
Hestia shrugged exasperatedly and started down it.

“I suppose,” she replied. “I better not get shat on by any owls, though.”

“That happened one time,” Emmeline said, grinning slightly. The two girls began to climb the
stairs up to the Owlery Tower. “I’m sure Emerson wasn’t targeting you specifically.”

“After I dumped George? A likely story,” Hestia replied, snorting. “I think his owl was taking his
revenge for him.”
“Why did you dump him, anyway?” Emmeline asked casually. “I barely remember.”

“It was fifth, I was swamped with studying for my O.W.L.s.,” Hestia said, shrugging. “I didn’t
have time for a boyfriend, then.”

“Oh yeah, I remember now,” Emmeline said, smiling slightly as they reached the landing, entering
the Owlery. “He kept nagging you about spending time with him when you were studying.”

“Yeah, that got annoying,” Hestia replied, wrinkling her nose as the smell of owl droppings hit
them. “I didn’t want to dump him, but he just kept taking it personally when I was too busy to see
him. You’d think he’d have understood, being in the same year, but obviously not.”

She glanced up at the perches where all the owls were sitting, and sure enough, George Abbott’s
tawny owl, Emerson, hooted threateningly down at her. Hestia grimaced and moved towards the
window, far away from the angry owl.

Emmeline moved over to look up at where Avellana, Dorcas’ owl, was perched, and coaxed her
down with a soft chirping sound. The snowy owl fluttered down obligingly, letting Emmeline
stroke her soft white feathers.

“So,” Emmeline said, glancing over to where Hestia was gazing out of the stone window opening
towards the grounds. “I assume you just had the same conversation with Dumbledore as the one I
had this morning?”

Hestia glanced over at Emmeline, her dark eyes cautious. “I’d guess so,” she said. “What was
yours about?”

“He asked me to join the Order of the Phoenix,” Emmeline said. “To fight Voldemort.”

The words seemed less threatening up in the Owlery, away from the rest of the world, with
Avellana’s soft feathers against Emmeline’s fingers and the unappealing smell of owl droppings
permeating the air. Hestia nodded, perching herself on the stone windowsill and glancing back out
of it towards the ground.

“Did you give him an answer?” Hestia asked after a moment, her voice sounding quiet, as it was
carried away from Emmeline by the wind and rain outside.

“Not yet,” Emmeline said, looking over at Hestia. “But I think I already know what I want to say.”

Hestia looked back to her, and Emmeline saw the same troubled look on her face as she’d sported
when she’d arrived at lunch with them. “Me too,” Hestia admitted. “But what if it’s the wrong
decision?”

Emmeline shrugged. “We can’t know what’ll happen until we take the leap,” she said. “I wish we
could.”

“Maybe if the old Divination teacher hadn’t retired, I would’ve taken it, and we could’ve known,”
Hestia said, giving Emmeline a slight, joking raise of her eyebrows. Emmeline smiled, a feeling of
warmth settling within her. This was why she’d wanted to talk to Hestia: her friend could always
make her laugh in these situations, even when neither of them felt like laughing at all.

“There’s a reason Dumbledore hasn’t hired anyone new for five years,” Emmeline replied. “The
subject is useless.”

“Maybe,” Hestia said, letting out a deep sigh and looking back out towards the grounds. “I don’t
need a crystal ball to tell me how my parents will react to hearing my plans, anyway.”

Emmeline moved over to her, putting a comforting hand on her best friend’s shoulder. Hestia
looked over at her, a desperately sad expression on her face, and Emmeline’s heart ached for her.

“They can’t forbid you from joining, you know,” Emmeline said. “You’re seventeen, after all.
You’re legally an adult.”

“I know,” Hestia said, tears filling her eyes. “But I don’t want to fight with them over this. I don’t
want to have them worry for me, or be angry at me about making the decision to fight.”

Emmeline sighed and gave Hestia a small smile. “Sometimes,” she said, “you have to make your
own decisions. Sometimes you have to think less about how other people will react to them, and
make your life about you.”

Hestia smiled weakly at Emmeline. “Who gave you that terrible advice?” she asked wryly.
Emmeline smiled back at her.

“My best friend,” she replied. Hestia sighed, then stood, wrapping her arm around Emmeline’s
waist and leaning her head on the taller girl’s shoulder. They stood, looking out towards the rainy
grounds for a while, and Emmeline drew strength from Hestia’s warmth and her certainty,
alongside her own. At least they weren’t alone.

....

By Wednesday, all of the Gryffindor seventh years had been to meet with Dumbledore about
joining the Order of the Phoenix. Lily confided in Emmeline that a few seventh years from other
houses had been asked, too, though she wouldn’t share their names. Of the people that Emmeline
had talked to about the subject, only four had already given Dumbledore their answers: Sirius,
James, Lily, and Mary. Sirius, like James, had attempted to give his answer immediately during his
meeting with the headmaster but had been refused until the following day. This didn’t surprise
Emmeline, as she knew Sirius was both impulsive and eager to enter the war. Mary’s quick
decision did surprise Emmeline, however, though perhaps it shouldn’t have. When she’d asked her
roommate why she didn’t take more time to consider, Mary had simply shrugged.

“It just seemed clear,” she’d said. “I’ve already been attacked by wanna-be Death Eaters. I’m not
safe whatever I’m doing. Might as well do something worthwhile.”

Emmeline admired Mary’s bravery, while she herself was still trying to summon the courage to
give Dumbledore her answer. The rest of the Gryffindors, like her, were more cautious, choosing to
take some time to talk with their families and friends before making the decision. Even Marlene,
who Emmeline had expected to be eager to give her answer quickly, had been hesitant in deciding.

There was an air of preoccupation among the seventh years, even more than before, with all of
their job applications and thoughts of their futures. They had many hushed conversations, careful
not to allow their voices to carry to the younger students, or within earshot of any unwanted
eavesdroppers. At night, Emmeline sometimes caught the sound of worried whispers coming from
the direction of Marlene’s and Dorcas’ beds when they forgot to place a silencing charm over
themselves.

Looming over them all, though they hesitated in acknowledging it, was the subject of their own
mortality. None of them wanted to bring it up—the fact that by agreeing to join the Order, they
were taking their lives into their own hands. Still, it was there in their worried faces, in their
whispers, and in the circles under their eyes. It was there in the fact that many had decided to visit
 home for Easter break instead of staying in the castle, as most students did. It was there in the way
that they held their friends closer, paid more attention in Defense Against the Dark Arts classes,
and clung to every last moment.

Emmeline savored the special pastries that the house-elves made for Purim even more than usual,
grateful for the traditions that helped her remember who she was. She was looking forward to
seeing her family when she went home that weekend, looking forward to holding her mother close
and inhaling the scent of her familiar perfume. Like Hestia, she dreaded the moment when she’d
have to tell her parents about her plans to fight in the war, but she hoped that they’d understand.
She didn’t want to spend her time fighting them on the issue.

Still, their greatest reminder of mortality was one that none of them had ever expected. At the end
of the day on Friday, many of the seventh years grouped together in front of the fire in the portrait
hole, talking. The next morning, they’d go to Professor McGonagall’s office to floo to their
respective homes for the break, but they didn’t have much to do to prepare. Instead, they wanted to
spend their time together, savoring the prospect of two weeks without schoolwork and drawing
strength from each other as they contemplated telling their families about what Dumbledore had
asked them to do.

Emmeline heard the portrait hole open and close behind her, but she didn’t think anything of it. It
was Hestia who first looked up, and only when Emmeline saw her best friend’s expression change
did she follow her gaze toward the entrance. There, Lily stood, a letter clutched in her hands. It
took a moment for Emmeline to register Lily’s unusual pallor and the distant look in her eyes as she
approached them slowly, her fingers worrying the edges of the letter clutched between them.

“Lily?” Hestia asked tentatively, staring at their roommate. “What is it?”

Lily glanced up at them, looking as if she hadn’t truly noticed they were there until that moment.
The other members of the group looked around at her then, too, perplexed looks on their faces.
Lily scanned their faces one by one, as if searching for something, her face white as a ghost. James
half-rose from his chair, looking in concern at his girlfriend. After a moment, Lily took a deep
breath and spoke, her words sounding hollow and broken as they hit the air:

“My mum’s dead.”

Chapter End Notes

Happy Halloween! /Jily death day :(

P.S. You might have noticed I changed the chapter titles to include the years they take
place during. I just did it so that it would be easier to track the timeline and to find
chapters, if you want to go back and re-read specific ones/find information. I know I
like to do that with fanfics I read :)
 1978: Flowers in Your Hair
Chapter Notes

cw: non-major character death

See the end of the chapter for more notes

On Saturday, Lily walked down to Hogsmeade to apparate from outside of the Hogwarts grounds
back to her home in Cokeworth. Most of her classmates—who had magical families and whose
homes were therefore connected to the Floo Network—had gone to McGonagall’s office that
morning to floo home. James had offered to delay his trip home with Sirius so that he could walk
her to her apparition point, but Lily had refused. She didn’t want company. She’d even left before
Mary had awoken that morning, though her best friend also had to walk down to the village to
apparate to her home in Cornwall. Lily would see Mary later in the week, however, since she’d
asked her if she’d attend Amelia’s funeral for moral support and Mary had readily agreed.

As Lily walked down the road, she noticed that flowers were beginning to bloom again along its
edges, recovering from the winter chill and decorating her journey with bursts of color. They were
painful to see, not only as a reminder of her mother and her garden at home but also of the fact that
life continued to go on without Amelia Evans there to witness it.

When she reached the edge of Hogsmeade, Lily turned on the spot, disappearing into thin air and
appearing again on the bank of the slow river that divided Cokeworth in two. Once Lily got her
bearings, she realized that here, too, flowers were springing up all over the place. In her absence, it
seemed her favorite spot on the bank had continued to remain untouched by the teenagers who left
their empty beer bottles and garbage everywhere else along the river.

Looking up at the trees, which filtered the light into the little clearing so that it fell, dappled, to the
ground, Lily took a deep breath in and closed her eyes for a moment. She still hadn’t cried, not the
previous night or that morning. The previous evening, she’d felt very, very cold, and unable to do
much more than let her friends fuss over her. When she’d woken that morning, however, the cold
had ebbed, and everything felt sharp. Still, Lily hadn’t cried, and she didn’t want to cry now, just
before she saw her father. That was why she’d chosen to apparate here, instead of closer to her
house. Perhaps she thought the sight of this place would give her strength.

After a few long moments, where Lily breathed steadily in and out, she opened her eyes again and
set off up the hill. She tried not to look too long at the graveyard as she passed it on her way home,
tried not to think about the fact that her mother would be laid to rest there in only a couple of days.

The last time Lily had seen her mother, it’d been Christmas, and Amelia had been laughing, happy.
She’d hugged Lily, and there had been color in her cheeks, a sparkle in her eyes. Now, all of that
was gone. Now, Amelia Evans was just a body, not Lily’s mother any longer. Her skin would be
pale, her muscles tense. She was gone.

With all that Lily had been dealing with of late, she’d never thought to expect anything like this.
Her mother hadn’t died because of some Death Eater attack; she hadn’t been the victim of anyone
or anything that Lily could’ve protected her from. Her death had been sudden and senseless.
Amelia had had a dizzy spell, lost her balance, and fallen down the stairs before Lily’s father could
catch her. When he’d reached her at the bottom, she hadn’t been breathing. The paramedics had
told him that she’d broken her neck in the fall. It was that quick. In the space of a few seconds,
Lily had gone from a world where her mother was alive and well to one where she wasn’t, and she
didn’t even know when it’d happened. She kept trying to place it in her head, wondering what
she’d been doing when her world changed, but she couldn’t.

Now, Lily walked along the sidewalk towards a home that wouldn’t have her mother in it. She felt
the cold air against her skin, the weak sun shone down on her, and she couldn’t imagine how the
world continued to be bright and cold without her mother there. Lily couldn’t understand why
every sensation suddenly felt piercing, why she was suddenly more aware of her beating heart and
the oxygen coming in and out of her lungs than ever before, and yet she couldn’t believe that she
was managing to breathe at all.

Lily rounded the corner, stepping onto her street at last. She walked past old Mrs. Edwards’ house,
who’d always babysat her and Petunia when they’d been very young. Back then her mother had
still worked full-time as an art teacher at the local secondary school before her father had gotten a
promotion and they’d been able to afford for her to spend more time on her art. Lily knew that Mrs.
Edwards had several of her mother’s paintings hung up in her house, but she didn’t look through
the window to see if she could spot one, only continued on.

The next house on the block was that of Billy Carter, a boy who’d bullied Lily in primary school
for both her red hair and her chubbiness until the day that Petunia had threatened to shove a
lollipop up his nose at recess. When the school counselor called Lily’s mother to tell her of
Petunia’s threat, Amelia Evans hadn’t concealed her laughter from the very disapproving woman,
then told her in no uncertain terms that it was the school’s failing for not protecting Lily, so
Petunia had been forced to do so instead. She’d bought both girls ice cream that afternoon, and Lily
had smeared it all over her face.

“My beautiful girl,” Amelia had said, smiling down at her in amusement as she wiped the
chocolate ice cream off Lily’s face with a napkin. Lily had beamed up at her toothily, while next to
her, Petunia had harumphed jealously, and Amelia had turned to put an arm around her, too. “My
beautiful girls,” she’d corrected herself. “What in the world did I do to deserve you?”

Lily clenched her fists so hard that her nails dug into her palms. The pain was sharp, but somehow
it helped. She strode passed the remaining houses, then turned to walk up to her front door. Lily
hadn’t even extracted her keys from her pocket before the door was flung open from the inside and
her father had pulled her into a hug.

“Hey, dad,” Lily said softly into his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him in return.

“Hi, baby girl,” Richard replied, his voice choked with unshed tears. Lily pressed back the heat
behind her own eyes, refusing to cry on the doorstep where all the neighbors could see. Slowly, she
and her father released one another and Lily stepped into the house, Richard closing the door
behind her.

Lily looked around, scanning her familiar surroundings, which suddenly seemed foreign. The
house felt empty all of a sudden and painfully quiet, though nothing had outwardly changed in the
past months since she’d last been here.

“It’s quiet without her,” Lily commented, and she thought her voice sounded detached. Her father
nodded, his green eyes, so much like his younger daughter’s, filling with tears that didn’t fall.

“She always brought this house to life like no one else,” he said. Lily felt at a loss for what to say in
return, but she didn’t have to decide, as Richard cleared his throat and walked past her toward the
kitchen. He filled the kettle in the sink and Lily leaned against the counter, watching him and
listening to the sound of the water stream from the tap. Once he’d placed it on the stove and turned
on the flame beneath it, Lily’s father turned to face her.

“How are you, Lily?” he asked, his eyes searching. “I’m sorry you had to hear the news in a letter.”

“I’m okay,” Lily replied, feeling numb again as even she said it. Her father looked back at her, a
tired sort of disbelief on his face. Lily searched around for something else to say to change the
subject. “When does Petunia get here?”

“Monday,” Richard replied. “She couldn’t get off work until then. Apparently her boss is a real
hardass.”

Lily gave a feeble smile. The water in the kettle began to boil and a high whistle filled the kitchen.
Richard turned to take it off the heat and Lily grabbed two mugs from the cupboard, placing a
teabag in each. She knew her father loved Earl Grey but Lily’s favorite tea was English Breakfast,
just like her mum’s had been. After her father poured the boiling water into each mug, they stood
for a long while in silence, Lily holding her mug between her hands, not caring about how the heat
of the ceramic burned into them. She played with the tea bag, watching as tendrils of dark tea
escaped into the water around it. Once the tea had steeped sufficiently, Lily stirred in milk,
watching as the liquid turned a warm, light brown color. Her mother had loved sugar in her tea, put
far more in than Lily thought could possibly be palatable. She’d been alone in this in the family,
and now the little sugar pot lay untouched on the counter.

“Lily,” Richard said, and Lily tore her eyes away from the sugar pot and back at him. He was
looking at her with concern in his gaze. “Have you cried yet?”

Slowly, Lily shook her head. “I only got your letter last night. Since then, I’ve just been…” She
trailed off, looking down at her tea. There was a single fragment of a tea leaf floating on the top,
tiny and resolute in its liberation from the tea bag. “It just all happened so suddenly,” she
continued, looking up at her father. “With her MS, she said that she’d still have decades. Now,
she’s just gone.”

He nodded. “She should’ve had decades left,” he said, his voice full of grief. “None of us could’ve
foreseen this. I wish that you girls had been able to say goodbye.”

“If I had thought of it, I would’ve put cushioning charms on every single thing in this house,” Lily
said, her voice hollow. “I just never thought…”

“There was no way you could’ve known,” Richard said. “There’s no point in blaming yourself. I
keep thinking that if I’d just been a bit quicker, I could’ve caught her before she fell, but it doesn’t
matter now, what we could’ve done. Nothing will change what happens next.” Lily nodded, but she
found that she didn’t really know what happened next at all. She looked at her father, desperation
in her eyes.

“What happens next?”

Her father gave her a sad smile. “We grieve,” he said simply. “And we figure out how to face the
fact that she’s gone. We try to figure out how to live our lives without her in them.”

Lily nodded, but there was a tightness in her throat and she couldn’t speak. She didn’t know how to
say that she didn’t want to do any of that. She didn’t know how to express the fact that she had no
wish to let her mother go, or to accept her death. She was still clutching her tea in her hands, and
it’d cooled slightly, though she still hadn’t taken a sip yet.
“Delaying it won’t help, Lily,” Richard said gently. “At some point, you’re going to have to cry.
Just because you’re refusing to let it in doesn’t mean she’s not dead.”

Lily shook her head, and Richard sighed, then turned towards the back door. Lily hesitated for a
second, and he looked back at her, gesturing for her to follow. Lily stepped after him into the
garden, her footsteps hesitant. Bright colors greeted her. While it was always the most colorful in
summer, spring was when many of her mother’s favorite flowers started to bloom again, filling the
garden with color. Lily imagined her mother digging up the plants that had been killed by cold and
snow, cheerfully planting new ones, not knowing that she wouldn’t be there to enjoy her garden for
long.

Lily’s father passed through the garden toward the little shed that Amelia Evans had converted into
her painting space. He held the door open for her and she stepped in cautiously, not sure she
wanted to see what was inside. The walls in there were covered in paintings and sketches done by
her mother. Some were finished, but most were in progress: projects that she’d turned away from
when getting a new idea, or ones that she’d forgotten about entirely in her excitement for new
things to come. In the center of the small room, however, on her mother’s well-worn easel, was a
single portrait of a girl with long, dark red hair.

Lily’s breath caught as she approached it slowly, her eyes moving over the portrait. The girl’s face
was round, her cheeks pink, and her smile wide. Her green eyes twinkled in a way that made Lily
think of the portraits at Hogwarts, as if there was some magic in this picture, too. Of course there
is, Lily thought. Her mother had painted it, after all. The most striking part of the image, however,
were the many different flowers woven through her hair. There were poppies that almost exactly
matched the shade of her dark red locks, small white daisies scattered like fallen stars throughout
her waves, marigolds arranged like a tiara on the top of her head, and of course, lilies, of all
different shades, intertwined through the rest.

“She was going to give this to you as a graduation present,” Richard Evans said, approaching
slowly from behind Lily. “She only finished it the day before she died. But I thought you might
want to have it now, as a reminder of her and how much she loved you.”

Lily looked down at her own face in the portrait, and this time, she didn’t press back against the
tears welling up in her eyes. Instead, when the wave came, she turned and clutched her father, who
cradled her close to his chest as she sobbed, overcome by the tide of grief that suddenly seemed
unstoppable. They sank to the floor, and Lily realized that she’d still been holding her mug of tea in
her hand, as it tipped over and spilled its cold contents onto the floor of the shed. The light brown
tea glistened undisturbed on the ground as Richard Evans held his daughter and Lily tried not to
drown in the sea of pain that was overwhelming her.

....

Sunday brought family tidings: Lily’s Aunt Ella, along with her girlfriend, Aunt Eileen, arrived
back in town. They’d been on a trip to the countryside, but it’d been cut short by the news of Lily’s
mother’s death. As soon as Aunt Ella entered their house on Sunday morning, she engulfed Lily in
a hug.

“Oh, Lily,” she murmured sadly. “How are you doing?”

“I’m managing,” Lily replied quietly into her aunt’s shoulder. Ella stepped back and put her hand
on Lily’s shoulder comfortingly. Lily took in her aunt’s appearance. Her red hair was loose and fell
to her shoulders. Her eyes were blue, the same shade as her mother’s, and they were puffy and red,
just as Lily knew her own green ones must be. Ella gave her shoulder a squeeze, then moved off to
hug her father, leaving Lily to turn to her other aunt.
“Hello, Lily, dear,” Aunt Eileen said, giving her a sad smile.

“Hi, Aunt Eileen,” Lily said, returning her smile and moving forward to give her a hug. Aunt
Eileen sometimes reminded her of Professor McGonagall: she was tall, thin, and a bit rigid, with
dark brown hair streaked with grey. Her propriety always melted quickly, however, and her brown
eyes were warm. Unlike Professor McGonagall’s clipped accent, too, Aunt Eileen’s voice was low
and melodic, her manner of speaking flowing from one word to the next, so Lily had always loved
having Eileen read her stories as a child.

“It’s very nice to see you again,” Eileen said as she drew back from Lily. “I just wish the
circumstances were better. What a terrible thing to happen. I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks, auntie,” Lily said, tears threatening to fall from her eyes again. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Eileen gave her a smile and made a soft, sad clucking noise with her tongue, then looked back at
Lily’s father.

“When’s Petunia arriving, again, Richard?” she asked him.

“Tomorrow morning, she said,” Lily’s father replied promptly. “She and her boyfriend, Vernon, are
driving from London together.”

“That’s good,” Ella said, sighing. “We all need one another more than ever now.”

“I hope it’s alright that I asked Mary to come to the funeral,” Lily told her father. “I just thought,
you know, for moral support.”

“Of course it’s alright,” Richard said, giving Lily a small smile. “I’ll be glad to see Mary again.”

“Is she a friend of yours from school?” Ella asked curiously. Lily nodded.

“She’s my best friend,” she said. “She came over last summer to stay for a while, so she met mum,
too. I don’t think mum would’ve minded. She liked Mary.” The end of her sentence came out
choked, and Lily had to swallow back tears again. Eileen put a soft hand on Lily’s arm, and Ella
gave her a sad smile.

“Of course she wouldn’t mind,” she said.

Lily gave a small nod and took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Some part of her wished that
she could have James there, too, on Tuesday when they buried her mother, but she hadn’t asked
him to come. She hadn’t even told her father about James yet, or the rest of her family, as they’d
only been dating for a month. Over the holidays, Lily had told her mother about what had
happened with James before then, and Amelia had given Lily her advice: she’d told her daughter to
try to open herself up to love, however scary the prospect was. Lily knew that her mother wouldn’t
have minded James being there, but Lily didn’t want to draw more attention to herself than she
needed to at the moment. Her mother had just died; this wasn’t the right time to introduce her
boyfriend to the family, and besides, James hadn’t ever met Amelia.

Still, Lily missed him, and often wished that he could just be there to hold her, as he had the
evening when she’d found out about her mother’s death, when she still couldn’t let herself feel it.
James hadn’t pressed her to talk or acted as if it was odd that she hadn’t broken down in grief, he
just held her, his warmth helping to thaw some of the ice that had suffused Lily’s whole body that
day.

In James’ absence, however, Lily had her family to warm her. She, her father, and her aunts settled
themselves into seats in the sitting room after having prepared tea, and they spent the next hours
reassuring one another with their company. First, they talked, sharing reminiscences about Amelia.
Ella told some stories from their childhood together, and Lily actually found herself laughing at
some points, though it still hurt to laugh. Her father retold the story of how he’d met Amelia for the
first time at university, which Lily had heard many times in her childhood, but had never fully
appreciated before then. There was something comforting about thinking about her mother, young
and happy; there was comfort in knowing that even when she was gone, Lily could always access
her, through both her own memories and the memories of others. In stories, she knew, her mother
would never be dead. She could die a hundred times and be brought back to life a thousand more as
the Amelia Evans who’d wiped ice cream off of Lily’s chin when she’d been five years old, the
one who’d smiled at her with such affection in her eyes and asked what she’d done to deserve her.
That woman would never die, not really.

....

Ella and Eileen left after dinner that evening to go back to their house, which was only a ten-minute
drive from Lily’s childhood home. They’d be back the next morning, they said, and Lily was glad
of their closeness. She went to bed that night feeling a bit more at peace than she had before,
despite the continued ache in her heart and the absence of her mother, which she felt all around the
house.

Though Lily hadn’t had much trouble going to sleep that night, she was awoken far sooner than
she’d expected to be: only a few hours later, by a sound in the empty house. At first, Lily thought
she’d imagined it, and was about to roll over and go back to sleep, but then she heard the front door
creak open and she sat bolt upright. The clack of heels sounded on the hardwood floors downstairs
and the door shut again. Lily narrowed her eyes, trying to decide what to do, then drew her covers
off her, swinging her legs out of bed. The upstairs was carpeted, and her feet were soft on the
ground as she tiptoed out of her room and down to the landing.

When Lily looked down into the sitting room, however, she sighed in relief. This was no burglar.
Petunia’s familiar blonde head faced away from Lily as she seemed to be looking at one of their
mother’s paintings on the wall. She wore a dark dress and a pair of low pumps, which had clacked
noisily on the downstairs floors as she’d entered.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Lily,” Petunia said quietly, not looking around. Lily started,
as she hadn’t been aware that Petunia knew she was there. She must’ve heard her door open
upstairs. Still, despite Petunia’s words, Lily tentatively descended the rest of the way down the
staircase.

“I thought you weren’t getting in until tomorrow morning, Tuney.”

“Vernon and I just arrived,” Petunia said, and her voice was neutral, hollow, her back still to Lily as
she stared at the painting on the wall. “He’s waiting in the car outside, then we’re going to stay at a
hotel tonight. I just needed a moment here.”

“A hotel?” Lily asked, confused and still groggy from sleep. “Why would you stay at a hotel,
Tuney? You have a room here.”

“I’m not going to stay here with Vernon,” Petunia said, still not looking at Lily, though there was a
bite to her voice now. “We’ll stay for the funeral, then we’re going back to London together.”

Lily furrowed her brows, startled and a little frustrated with Petunia’s cold tone and her refusal to
stay any longer with her family. “But Tuney—” She began, moving forward again, towards her
sister.
“Stop calling me that,” Petunia snapped suddenly, finally looking around, and Lily flinched at her
hissed words, and at the look in her eyes. They were furious, two blue flames blazing as she glared
at Lily. Lily took a step back, suddenly wary. It was the middle of the night, she was tired, and she
hadn’t expected any interaction with Petunia, let alone one that involved her sister’s fury.

Petunia continued, her voice filled with emotion. “Stop acting like you’re my sister,” she said,
glaring at Lily, and Lily thought she saw pain in her eyes, too, along with the fury. “Stop acting
like you even loved mum! Like you’re even capable of love!”

“P—Petunia,” Lily stammered, tears filling her eyes as she stared back at her older sister, hurt
stabbing her like a knife. She hadn’t prepared herself for this. She’d never expected to hear these
words come out of her sister’s mouth, let alone now. “How could you say something like—”

“If you really loved mum, you would’ve fixed her!” Petunia shot back, her voice rising and getting
higher, looking rather hysterical. “You’re a witch, aren’t you? If your precious magic is so amazing
and special, why didn’t you use it to save her?!”

Lily shook her head, tears streaming down her face as she stared at Petunia, who was now
advancing on her, a dangerous look on her face. “I didn’t know how,” Lily said, backing up
slightly. “I don’t know how to do magic like that, Tuney! It takes special training to—”

“I told you to stop calling me that!” Petunia lunged forward, her hand flying across Lily’s face.
The slap echoed in the dark house and Lily’s head snapped to the side, her cheek stinging. She
closed her eyes, letting a few more tears fall across her cheeks. She heard a rustle in the next room,
where her father was apparently just now waking.

“I’m sorry,” Lily whispered, opening her eyes and looking up at Petunia, tears still falling down
her cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

Petunia flinched but raised her chin, her eyes turned to steel. “After the funeral, I don’t want to see
you,” she said, her voice cold. “I don’t want to speak to you. I don’t want any part of your life
anymore, do you understand? You’ve always been a freak, and you wouldn’t even use your freak
powers to save our mother! All you’ve ever done is make all of our lives worse! I want no part of it.
I want a normal life.”

“Petunia!” The voice sounded behind Lily, and she turned to look at her father’s shape in the
doorway of the kitchen, his face a mask of shock and horror as he took in the scene. Petunia looked
over as well, and when Lily looked back at her, she thought she saw a flash of guilt cross her
sister’s face.

Then, she turned and headed towards the door. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning,” she told them
before slamming the door behind her.

....

Mary arrived on Tuesday morning on the Evans’ doorstep, her face somber and her hair charmed
back to black. She was wearing a black dress, too, and as soon as Lily opened the door, she encased
the smaller girl in her embrace.

The morning was a quiet one, with none of Lily’s family speaking much. They communicated in
other ways, however, clasping each others’ hands and shoulders. Petunia kept well away from Lily,
as she had for the past day, an expressionless Vernon Dursley by her side, and none of the adults
attempted to reconcile them. Lily had asked them not to, as she felt that this wasn’t what she
wanted to think about at the moment. Anyway, Petunia had clearly made up her mind to ice her
out, and Lily didn’t think anything anyone said would make her waver in that decision.

At one, the little group made their way over to the church next to the Cokeworth river. Their pace
was slow and halting, resisting all attempts by Petunia’s boyfriend to speed them along by striding
ahead. Lily and Mary walked behind Lily’s aunts, their arms linked, Lily’s gaze on the ground in
front of her.

When they arrived at the church, they were met with a group of people who’d come to attend the
funeral. It wasn’t a large gathering, but enough had shown up to fill the front few rows, leaving the
one at the very front respectfully open for Lily and her family. The people were a varied bunch:
some of Amelia’s coworkers from the art studio, as well as from when she’d taught at the school
when Lily had been younger. Mrs. Edwards from down the street showed up and clasped Lily’s
hands in her wizened ones when she arrived, telling her how sorry she was for the family’s loss.

The service was beautiful, Lily thought, or at least the parts that she was aware of. She drifted in
and out of focus as people spoke, anchored by Mary’s small hand in hers, which she clutched for
dear life. Hot tears ran down her face as it went on, becoming cold against her skin as the group
headed out into the little graveyard to lower her mother’s body into the ground.

Lily only really came back to herself after the earth swallowed her mother up and the grave was
filled with dirt. The group around the grave began to disperse, but Lily stayed staring at the
headstone for a while longer, her father and Mary on either side of her. Everyone but her family
had left by this time, leaving the Evanses and their friends alone by the grave. After a few
moments, Lily turned away.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” she whispered to Mary as she passed her but didn’t look back to see if
she’d heard, instead heading toward the slope that led to the river and her little patch of riverbank.
Once she’d climbed down the hill, Lily stood there for a long moment, staring out at the river. It
gurgled softly, sluggishly, but Lily had never minded its dirtiness. The river, foul as it often was,
had always been a part of this place to her.

As she stared out at the water, she heard the rustle of someone behind her. Thinking it was
probably Mary, she turned and caught sight of the last person she’d expected to see. There,
standing staring at her in the middle of the grass, was Severus. She was so shocked to see him that
she was silent for several moments, before clearing her throat and addressing him.

“What are you doing here?” Lily asked.

“I heard your mum died,” Severus said, not exactly answering her question. His eyes scanned over
her, and Lily knew he was registering her appearance: black dress, tear-stained face, red-rimmed
eyes. She didn’t much care.

“Yes, she did,” Lily responded curtly.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was quite expressionless, but he looked at her with some emotion in
his eyes, though she didn’t think it was related to her loss.

“Thank you,” she replied stiffly, turning to leave. She really didn’t have the energy to talk to him of
all people, that day.

“Wait, Lily,” Severus said, his voice sounding desperate.

“What?” she asked, looking around in annoyance.

“I just...I’m really sorry, you know? About your mum, and about everything…” He trailed off, his
black eyes pleading with her. She snorted.

“You’re really going to make this about you right now, aren’t you?” she demanded, anger surging
through her. It felt sharp, just like everything else had of late. If he was wise, he’d take her tone as
a warning and back away, but he was clearly not wise.

“I just want to know what I can do to get you to forgive me,” Severus pleaded with her. “Lily, you
should know, I lo—”

“Stop it!” she snapped, her hands going up, palms out to him, protecting herself from hearing his
words. “Just stop it, Severus. I don’t think you understand, my mum just died. You have no right to
make this moment about you right now.”

He opened his mouth to speak again, looking only slightly abashed, but she held up her hands
again, stopping him. “I’ve been telling you for almost two years now that I don’t want to hear from
you, that our friendship is over. I don’t know how to say it any more clearly. Just like I told you in
fifth year: you’ve chosen your path, I’ve chosen mine.”

“But—” Severus started to protest, looking frantic. His expression was so different than the time,
only two months before, when she’d confronted him about following her. He’d turned cold and
angry, then, when she’d told him to leave her alone. Now, it seemed he was newly frightened by
the prospect that she might actually mean it.

“There’s nothing left you can say to me, Severus,” Lily said, disgust in her voice now. She couldn’t
believe she’d taken so long to see this part of him: the selfishness, the complete lack of regard for
her feelings and her autonomy. “I know you’re a Death Eater now. I don’t know how you can keep
going down this path and still be delusional enough to believe I’ll forgive you for it, but it doesn’t
matter.”

“Lily—”

“Leave me alone, Severus,” she said, turning to leave again. “The next time you try and corner me,
I’ll hex you.” She didn’t deliver this statement as a threat, really: it was merely a promise. She’d
had enough of his stalking, and of his pleas for forgiveness.

Lily turned and walked away, away from the river and the flowers that surrounded it. Behind her,
Severus stood in the shadow of the trees next to the river, watching her leave. After she
disappeared, he sat down, his gaze fixed on the purple daffodils by the riverside, whose color
looked darker in the shadow of the trees, their flowers leaning over the river as if trying to catch a
sight of their own reflections in the water.

Lily strode up the hill again toward Mary, who was waiting for her in the graveyard, even as the
rest of the party had dispersed. “Are you alright?” Mary asked as Lily appeared over the hill and
walked up to her. “I saw Snape approach you at the river but I didn’t know if I should intervene or
not.”

“I’m okay,” Lily said, giving Mary a short, insincere smile. Just then, she noticed the bunch of
yellow, bulbed flowers in Mary’s hands. Mary looked down at them when she saw Lily looking,
almost as if she’d forgotten she was holding them. “Oh, these were growing all over the hill, so I
thought I’d gather them to put on her grave,” she said, walking over to it as she spoke and laying
them carefully just below the headstone, on the freshly dug earth, then moving back to stand beside
Lily. “I remember her garden when I came to visit you over the summer, and I thought she’d like
them.”
 Lily nodded, tears filling her eyes again as she looked down at the yellow flowers on her mother’s
grave. “She loved daffodils,” she said, choked by the thought of her mother in her garden, tending
to her flowers. She turned to Mary. “Thank you,” she said, sincerity ringing through her voice. Her
gratitude extended much further than just the flowers: it was for Mary being there, for Lily and her
family, and for caring enough to stand by her side and be her tether to the world when she felt as if
she’d drift away at any moment. Mary gave her a small, sad smile, and Lily knew she understood.

“Of course,” she said. “Come on, let’s get you home. Your dad said to meet him there.” She linked
her arm with Lily’s again and the two girls walked off together, through the graves and toward the
road, leaving her mother and her daffodils behind.

Chapter End Notes

if severus snape wasn't already dead i would have to murder him myself :)
 1978: Chiquitita
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Chiquitita, you and I know

How the heartaches come and they go and the scars they're leaving

You'll be dancing once again and the pain will end

You will have no time for grieving

- "Chiquitita," ABBA

“Mija, you can’t!”

“I can’t keep having this conversation,” Hestia told her father across the table, a slight bite to her
voice. “I have to, and you know that.”

Hestia had been home for a week and a half, and the Easter holidays were almost at an end. Still,
she was stuck in the same loop with her parents, the one she’d been in ever since she’d told them of
her plans to join the Order of the Phoenix a week before. She didn’t want to snap at her parents, but
her patience was wearing thin, nevertheless.

“You don’t have to do anything. If someone is forcing you—”

“No one is forcing me to do anything, papá,” Hestia said tiredly. “But I do have to.”

Hestia’s father crossed his arms over his chest, surveying her across the table. His face was lined,
white streaks beginning to permeate his hair, but his dark eyes, so much like her own, were as
steady as ever. He wasn’t as young as he once had been, but ever a force of nature, just like her.

“Explain it to me again,” he said, not unkindly. His brow was furrowed, and it was only because
Hestia knew him so well that she could see the worry in his eyes.

She leaned forwards toward him, reaching out a placating hand, but her voice was also steady, her
eyes unyielding. “You raised me to be a fighter, to have strong beliefs, to be loyal. I have to fight
for this. For my world here, for my friends, for my country. Just like you did when you were
younger.”

He flinched almost imperceptibly. “And have you forgotten how that turned out?” he asked, his
voice gruff. “Have you forgotten that we live in a different country now, that we had to change our
family name, and that the people that I was trying to fight for are likely dead because of my
actions?”

“I haven’t,” Hestia said, her voice shaking slightly even as she held his gaze. “But you did what
you thought was right. You fought for what you believed in. And despite what happened, you
didn’t raise me to run from a fight. Would you go back and do things differently if you could?”

Her father sighed. “I don’t know,” he admitted, shaking his head. He looked over at his wife,
Hestia’s mother, who looked back at him steadily. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if unable to
meet her gaze, then looked back at his daughter. “Looking back, things that I thought were clear
then don’t seem so clear now. I thought that I was fighting for the right side...now the lines are
blurred. I’m not sure.”

“What about this war?” Hestia asked imploringly. “Do you think there’s any blurring of the lines
of who’s good and bad now?”

He met her eyes and shook his head. “No,” he admitted slowly. “This time, it seems perfectly
clear.”

There was a long silence. “I need to do this,” Hestia finally said again, looking back and forth
between her parents. “I won’t step back and wait for other people to solve the wizarding world’s
problems for me. I need to help.”

Her parents exchanged one, long look. It was her mother who ultimately broke the silence. “You do
what you need to do, mija,” she said. Her voice was strong, but Hestia could see fear in her eyes.
There was an unspoken sentiment, there, too, Hestia thought. She was imploring her, saying: you
have to come back alive. Hestia held Ana’s gaze and nodded.

“I promise to keep safe,” she said, knowing full well she couldn’t promise anything of the sort. She
stood to leave, but on her way, her father’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. His grip wasn’t
hard, but she looked down at him in surprise.

“Just remember, Hestia,” he said in almost a whisper, his gaze insistent upon hers. “Remember that
lines can be blurred. You never know what people are working for. They may be on your side, but
they may not be. And even if people fight for the right side, it doesn’t mean they’re fighting for
you. People at the top, in particular, rarely value your life in the way you’d expect them to. You’re
a soldier to them, expendable, but you’re not expendable to us. So you have to protect yourself, not
just from the Death Eaters, but from the people around you, too.”

Hestia held his gaze for a long time, thinking over what he’d told her. She nodded slowly. “I will.”

After she left the flat and her parents behind, Hestia descended the staircase slowly, still thinking
about all that was said. She was glad that they’d finally accepted her decision, of course, but she
wasn’t as sure of herself as she pretended to be in front of them. When she reached the front door,
she let out a deep breath before opening it. She shook off some of her worry as she took in the
familiar sight of Emmeline waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.

“Hey,” Emmeline greeted her, looking up as Hestia descended the staircase to the street and
standing up straight from where she’d been leaning against the railing.

“Hey,” Hestia replied, giving her a smile that she knew wouldn’t erase the troubled look in her
eyes.

“What is it?” Emmeline inquired, tilting her head slightly and frowning.

Hestia shrugged. “I just talked to my parents again about the whole Order thing,” she said.

“And?” Emmeline asked, raising her eyebrows. Hestia shrugged.

“They finally accepted it,” she said. “But...I don’t know. My dad said some things that made me
think.”

“Like what?” Emmeline asked, turning to head down the street, Hestia falling into step beside her.
“Just...he told me that I shouldn’t trust people in power,” she explained. “That we shouldn’t assume
that our lives mean much to them. Do you think that’s true?”

Emmeline shrugged. “Probably,” she said nonchalantly. “We’re fighting for a cause. To
Dumbledore and the people at the Ministry, the end goal is to win the war, that’s what’s important
to them. Of course, they want to prevent loss of life as a whole, but within that, preserving our
individual lives isn’t necessarily a priority.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?” Hestia asked incredulously. Emmeline glanced over at Hestia and
sighed, shaking her head.

“Of course it does,” she admitted, her voice still even. “On the one hand, of course I don’t want to
be seen as a chess piece, but on the other...it makes sense to me. If people high up thought about
every single life like it was the most important thing in the world, they’d never be able to make the
hard decisions, the ones that save the most amount of lives. Someone has to make those, after all.”

“So we just accept it?” Hestia asked hopelessly. Emmeline shook her head.

“No, not necessarily,” she replied. “We can look out for each other, and we can look out for
ourselves. Dumbledore will work for the greater good, and we’ll try to keep each other safe while
we help him.” They turned the corner, and Hestia nodded, taking in her friend’s words.

“What if we can’t keep each other safe?” Hestia asked after a pause. Emmeline glanced over at her
and they shared a look, a long look full of the knowledge that no encouraging words could quell
that possibility. Emmeline didn’t respond, but Hestia didn’t blame her. It was about acceptance,
she thought, which both girls were working on.

It took a little longer than usual for them to arrive at their destination, The Drunken Witch pub, as
they were both lost in thought, their steps slower on the pavement. When they arrived, they walked
over to the bar to sit near Edna, the witch who owned the place. Because of their frequent visits to
the pub over the summer and winter holidays, Hestia had gotten to know Edna a bit more, and now
always looked forward to talking with the older woman, enjoying both her witty banter and her
words of wisdom.

“Hello, loves,” Edna said, grinning at them as they slid into the seats in front of her. “What’s your
excuse for coming here tonight?”

“I desperately need a drink,” Hestia said, giving her a sweet smile. “And your wonderful company,
of course.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Emmeline joked, rolling her eyes.

Edna smiled, reaching under the bar to grab two glasses, and began to mix the girls’ drinks. Still, as
she did so, she looked up at Hestia, giving her a searching look. “What’s going on, then? Tell your
Auntie Edna everything.”

Hestia sighed, searching around for words to explain her inner turmoil that wouldn’t give away the
secret of the Order. “Graduating is stressful,” she said finally. “I’ve got to think about all of the
real-world things I have to make decisions about before I leave Hogwarts, and I hate making those
decisions. And I hate feeling like my parents will be disappointed in me for the decisions I make.”

“Ah,” Edna said, a crease forming between her eyebrows. “So Emmy’s not the only one joining the
Order of the Phoenix.”

Hestia’s mouth fell open in surprise, then she jerked her head around to look at Emmeline, whose
mouth also formed an astonished ‘O,’ a rare display of emotion. Edna smiled slightly at both girls’
shock.

“Your mama told me,” she said to Emmeline, placing their two drinks on the counter for them.
“You’re not the only one who comes in here to tell me their problems, you know.”

“I—” Emmeline started, then paused, seemingly lost for words, looking over at Hestia. She looked
back to Edna, an expression of vulnerability coming over her face. “What—what do you think,
then?”

“What do I think?” Edna asked, raising her eyebrows and looking surprised by the question. She
narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, leaning against the counter and surveying the two girls. After a
long moment, she said: “Well, I think you girls are both very brave.”

“But?” Hestia asked, leaning forward slightly, looking inquisitively at Edna.

Edna smiled at her and shook her head, her dark curls bouncing around her. “Omniscient as ever, I
see, Hestia,” she said. “I think there’s a good reason why your mama was so concerned by your
news, Emmy, and your parents, too, Hestia, I presume. You’re both very brave, but you do realize
you’re signing up to be in the line of fire with this war, don’t you?”

Hestia sighed, taking a sip of the drink that Edna had slid across to her, and nodded. “We know,”
she said. “Trust me, we know.”

“And you’re not positive it’s the right thing yet?” Edna returned, looking at Hestia as piercingly as
Hestia was used to doing with other people. She shivered slightly. Being read was much more
unnerving than reading other people.

“I know it’s the right thing,” she said heavily. “It’s the right thing to do, you know? I just
sometimes wish that I didn’t have to be the one to do it.”

“You don’t have to be,” Edna pointed out mildly.

“Yeah,” Hestia admitted, swirling her drink around in her hand. “But I can, and I believe in
fighting. I’m not a coward.”

“No,” Edna said, smiling. “You girls just have to make sure that bravery doesn’t get you into
trouble, one day.”

....

Their floo trip back to Hogwarts on Sunday morning felt anticlimactic, and while Hestia knew it’d
been two full weeks, it felt like she’d only been home for a few days. Still, she hadn’t forgotten the
news that had marred their last evening in the castle, and the first thing she did when she and
Emmeline got back to the girls’ dormitory was hug Lily. Lily was caught off guard, making her
bed when Hestia raced across the dormitory to wrap her arms around her, but she smiled and turned
to give her a proper hug.

“Hey, Tia,” she said softly, a slight smile in her voice as Hestia held her tightly.

“How are you?” Hestia asked, pulling back finally and examining Lily, her eyes scanning across
Lily’s face. Lily gave her a slight, sad smile.

“I’m alright,” she said. “Some seconds are better than others, but I’m coping. Seeing my family
helped a bit.”
“How was the funeral?” Emmeline asked, stepping forward to give Lily a gentle hug, too.

“It was a nice service,” Lily said, looking troubled even as she gave them a forced smile. “I think
my mum would’ve liked it.”

“I’m sure she would’ve,” Mary said, looking over from her own bed, where she was unpacking her
things, and giving Lily a small smile.

“How was your break, Mac?” Hestia asked Mary, looking over at her. Mary shrugged, her
expression mild.

“Good,” she said. “Nothing special, really. I’m glad I was able to go to Amelia’s funeral.”

“I’m glad you came, too,” Lily said, looking over her shoulder and giving her best friend a smile.
“It would’ve been harder if you weren’t there.”

“Did you both talk to your families about joining the Order?” Mary asked, looking over at
Emmeline and Hestia, her gaze searching.

“Yes,” both girls said in unison.

“What did they think?” Lily asked curiously. “I didn’t tell my dad. He’s got enough on his mind. I
don’t want him worried about me, too.”

Emmeline shrugged. “Mine were alright,” she said. “A little worried, but they understand why I
want to do it. They supported my decision.”

“And yours, Tia?” Mary asked.

“Mine were a little harder to crack,” Hestia admitted. “I knew they were going to be, though. In the
end, they came around.”

“So you’re going to do it?” Lily asked. “You’re going to tell Dumbledore?”

“That’s the plan,” Hestia said, exhaling a long breath out nervously. “I keep trying to push down
the part of me that’s absolutely terrified. There’s this little voice at the back of my mind telling me
to just run away from it all, pretend nothing’s happening, and go on with my life.”

“I get that,” Lily said, her expression sympathetic. “It’s a scary decision to make.”

“I know I shouldn’t want that, though,” Hestia added hastily, glancing over at Mary, who wasn’t
looking at her and fussing with her pillow. “I feel like a terrible person every time I get that
thought.”

“You’re not a terrible person, Tia,” Mary said, looking over at her and giving her a slight smile,
which filled Hestia with relief. “There’ll always be things we shouldn’t want; it doesn’t mean we
stop wanting them. What we do about it is a different thing. You’re not burying your head in the
sand, after all. That’s what matters. That’s what tells you who you really are.”

Hestia gave Mary a grateful smile, and the other girl turned back to making her bed. Hestia didn’t
look away, though, examining Mary carefully as she thought about the other girl’s words. She
almost opened her mouth to ask her about them, then thought better of it. Instead, she just said:
“Thanks, Mac.”

Marlene and Dorcas entered the room just then, clearly fresh from their floo trip into McGonagall’s
office, too. “Hello all,” Marlene greeted the rest of the girls, as Dorcas dashed across the room, just
as Hestia had, to wrap Lily in a hug. Lily laughed softly at the gesture and hugged her back.

“How are you?” Dorcas asked, pulling back and looking at Lily intently.

“I’m going to start charging a sickle every time someone asks me that,” Lily joked. “I’m fine, Dee,
really.”

“Really?” Dorcas asked, narrowing her eyes and putting her hands on her hips. Lily rolled her eyes.

“Well, no, I’m not doing well,” she admitted. “But I’m not about to break. I’m...dealing. And today
I haven’t felt so bad. Me and Mac both apparated back yesterday afternoon and it was kind of nice
to come back to school, like things are normal. The grief comes and goes in waves.”

“How’s your family doing?” Dorcas asked gently.

Lily shrugged. “About the same as me, I think,” she said. “Dad’s a mess, but he’s coping, and my
aunts seem to be doing alright with it, too.”

“And your sister?” Hestia asked tentatively.

Lily sighed. “Petunia has decided to blame me for my mother’s death,” she said, a note of forced
lightness in her voice.

“What?!” four voices demanded in unison. Mary, of course, had already known, but all the other
girls practically had steam coming out of their ears.

Lily gave them a resigned look. “She thinks that I should’ve done something magical to save her.”

“This coming from the girl who has hated magic her whole life?!” Dorcas exclaimed, her hands
clenched into fists.

“Yeah, well,” Lily said. “She told me she doesn’t want me in her life anymore, so I suppose that’s
that.”

“Jaysus,” Marlene said, sighing after a moment. “Petunia’s such a cow.”

To all of their surprise, Lily burst into a fit of giggles. “You can’t just call my sister a cow,
Marlene,” she said, her grin belying her words.

“I only speak the truth,” Marlene said, grinning, too. “What a selfish bint.”

This only made Lily laugh more, tears of mirth coming from her eyes. Mary looked at her in
concern, starting towards her friend.

“Lily, are you alright?” she asked tentatively. Lily looked back up at them, still giggling, and
nodded.

“I’m just so tired of being sad,” she said, her cheeks flushed from her laughter. “My mum died, and
Petunia told me she hated me, but she’s been telling me that for years...I’d like to take a break from
being sad for the moment. Can we do that?”

Hestia made a conscious effort to unclench her jaw, letting go of her anger at Petunia for the
moment as she looked at Lily. She let a slight smile cross her face and then walked over to the
windowsill, where they kept Mary’s charmed stereo. She fiddled around for a moment in their
record collection, then pulled out the one she wanted and placed it on the turntable, placing the
 needle on it and pointing her wand at it to turn it on.

“I always say the best way to forget your worries for a bit is to dance,” Hestia said, turning back to
the group, a grin across her face as the first notes of “Tiny Dancer” by Elton John issued from the
speakers.

“Tia, this song is old!” Emmeline teased.

“It only came out when we were eleven,” Hestia said, rolling her eyes. “It’s not that old. Besides, I
know it’s one of Lily’s favorites.”

Lily grinned, and then all the girls, some rolling their eyes and others leaping to their feet in
excitement, began to dance. They joined hands, Emmeline twirling Hestia around as they laughed,
Marlene dipping Dorcas down low before pulling her back up for a kiss, both smiling. Lily spun in
a clumsy circle, nearly fell, and was caught by Mary, laughing her head off, her long red hair
swinging in front of her face.

“Hold me closer, tiny dancer,” all of the girls sang as they reached the chorus. “Count the
headlights on the highway!”

“Oh, I forgot, this is Mary’s song!” Marlene said, grinning over at Mary teasingly. Mary, in
response, launched herself at the tall blonde girl, and Marlene dodged her, laughing.

Dorcas giggled, spinning around in a circle, her thick curls swinging in a halo around her as she
sang: “Lay me down in sheets of linen, you had a busy day today!”

Lily grinned, pulling Mary away from Marlene and spinning her in a circle as she sang, “Hold me
closer, tiny dancer,” and Mary let her, the look of annoyance from Marlene’s slight on her height
slipping from her face easily as she smiled.

When the song ended, all the girls crowded around the stereo to change the record. They ended up
switching out Elton John for ABBA, and it was a while before they stopped dancing, listening to
music, and leaning on one another that day. Hestia was glad of it; this was the most lighthearted
she’d felt in a long time. Holding her friends, singing with them, and spinning around until they
were all laughing and dizzy was like a tonic for her, one she hadn’t known she needed. It was good
to know that there were still moments like that one, despite everything else. It was this notion that
truly gave Hestia the courage to do what came next.

On Monday, when classes started back up again, Hestia and Emmeline finally trudged up the stairs
to Dumbledore’s office after lunch to tell him that they’d decided to join the Order. He received
their decisions with calm poise, like he’d expected nothing less, and the two girls left feeling
lighter, now that they could stop thinking about their decision.

“It’s funny,” Emmeline remarked as they made their way back down the Grand Staircase. “I half
expected him to give us some sort of pamphlet or something now that we’ve joined.”

Hestia snorted out a laugh. “Maybe he’ll send us a ‘Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix’ fruit
basket,” she said, and Emmeline began to laugh, too. It was a good day, Hestia decided, to
remember that her life was about more than just a war.

Chapter End Notes

Yes, I know Chiquitita hadn’t come out yet in 1978, which is why I couldn’t have
them dance to it in the chapter, but the lyrics fit the vibe of the chapter so welllllll. Lol
I need to stop making this a song fic when it’s not a song fic :)
 1978: The First Battle
Chapter Notes

cw: graphic depictions of violence

See the end of the chapter for more notes

April melted into May, and the daffodils that had dotted the grounds in early spring were soon
outnumbered by other flowers in bloom. The torrential rain ebbed, making spending time outside
much more enjoyable again. Of course, rain had never kept Mary from enjoying the outdoors
before, or prevented her from heading down to the paddocks where the magical creatures were
held to visit them outside of class hours. But now, many of her friends were venturing out again,
too, and they spent more time lounging by the lake on picnic blankets, some completing their
homework and some relaxing, putting off their responsibilities to another day.

Mary ached at the thought of leaving Hogwarts in just over a month, and she clung to every last
moment, drinking in the castle and the grounds and reminiscing about how things had been. It was
hard, these days, to look around at the Great Hall and not remember how she’d sat there in first
year, still trying to get her bearings and get to know the people around her. It was hard to walk
down corridors, or out on the grounds, and not see the shadow of her younger self accompanying
her, so different and yet so alike to who she was now. Of course, her sixth and seventh years had
been the happiest of her Hogwarts career thus far. She had Lily, and it was almost unimaginable to
remember how she’d often resented her best friend, all those years ago.

Of course, Lily was absent more than usual these days, busy spending time with James, but Mary
didn’t resent him for it. If James made Lily happy—and it was clear to Mary that he did—she was
glad of it. Lily made it a point not to be, as she’d told Mary when they’d gotten together, “one of
those people who abandons their friends when they get into a relationship,” and she’d made good
on her promise.

“What’s the third ingredient of Veritaserum, again?” Mary asked Lily, looking over at her friend,
who was leaning against a tree next to her, her Potions homework in her lap.

“Hmm?” Lily murmured, looking up, her gaze distracted. Her eyes refocused and she seemed to
think for a moment, then answered: “Jobberknoll feathers.”

“Thanks,” Mary said, writing it down. She glanced back up at Lily curiously. She hadn’t
commented on the letter the other girl had been studying for the past twenty minutes, which she’d
gotten at breakfast and stowed into her bag without a word, but she felt within her rights to ask at
this point. “What’s that you’re reading, then?”

Lily glanced up, looking a little bit sheepish, then stowed the letter away in her bag. “I haven’t
really been reading it,” she said. “More like trying to make sense of it.”

Mary raised her eyebrows and Lily sighed. “It’s from my dad,” she admitted. When Mary opened
her mouth, looking a little alarmed, Lily shook her head. “Not more bad news, don’t worry.
Just...Petunia’s engaged.”

Lily said this with a tone of resignation, and Mary’s heart sunk in her chest as she realized what
this must mean for Lily. “Oh,” she said, frowning. “She—she didn’t want to tell you herself, I
guess?”

Lily gave a sad smile. “No, clearly not,” she said. “My dad said he’s trying to talk her around, but
she’s still refusing to contact me. At the moment, she doesn’t want me at her wedding at all.”

“Oh, Lily,” Mary said, sighing. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Lily said, shaking her head and letting out a deep breath. “I’m honestly fine, I just—I
suppose I know now why she chose this year to cut me out of her life.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she said she wanted a normal life,” Lily explained, shrugging. “I suppose she’s got her
sights on that now, after Vernon proposed, and she’s working on making that life a reality. Ergo,
trimming off the things that don’t fit her standards, like me.”

Mary stared at Lily, the resigned look on her face, her green eyes slightly downcast, and took a
deep breath. “Merlin, I wish I’d punched Petunia when I’d had the chance.”

“Mac!” Lily exclaimed, looking up in surprise. But her face broke into a smile, seemingly despite
herself. Mary smiled. She knew that Lily liked hearing others insult her older sister, even though
she felt like she couldn’t do it personally.

“She’s a cow, just like Marley said,” Mary continued, shrugging. “You deserve better.”

“Yes, I suppose,” Lily said, but her smile had faded. “Is that how you deal with it? By knowing
that you deserve better?”

Mary felt a stab of surprise and something else, more like pain, go through her. She knew that Lily
was talking about Mary’s biological father, who’d left her and her mother at a young age. These
days, Mary went months without thinking about him, but whenever she thought of him, she still felt
a little like throwing up. She barely remembered William Walker, who’d given her his light brown
eyes and thankfully not much else. Still, her clearest memories of him were of the scent of beer and
cigarettes from when he’d come home late from the bar and Mary would sit up in bed, hoping that
he’d enter her room to give her a goodnight hug that never came.

“Yeah, that’s a lot of it,” Mary admitted after a moment, shaking herself out of her recollections.
“When I was a kid, I used to think that if I was really good, he’d come back. He didn’t, though, and
I eventually realized that if it was about me—if I wasn’t what he wanted—I still wouldn’t be able
to change myself into someone who he wanted. So I tried to like myself instead, and then
somewhere along the line, I became the person to reject him, and that felt really good.”

Mary looked at Lily, who was looking intently back at her, something like desperation on her face.
She sighed, still trying to push away the hurt that had blossomed in her chest only moments ago at
the reference to her father.

“It never really stops hurting, though,” she admitted heavily. “Not for me, at least. No matter how
much you know you deserve better, rejection always hurts, especially from someone who was
supposed to love you unconditionally.”

Lily nodded, and Mary ached for her, and ached for herself, too. She wished she could give Lily a
better answer. “Life goes on, though,” she said. “I wouldn’t change anything, you know that. Paul
came along and gave my mum and me everything my biological father couldn’t, and I took his last
name. He’s my dad, and he’s a good one. And I have Clem, too, and I wouldn’t trade her for the
world.”

Lily smiled and reached her hand out, and Mary opened hers to receive it. “And I have you,” Lily
said. “You and everyone else in Gryffindor, you all are the family that I wouldn’t trade, even if I
got Petunia to love me again.”

Mary gave her a small smile in return, squeezing her hand. Lily’s fingers twined through hers,
dwarfing her small hand, warm and comforting. “We’ll still be a family when all this is over, won’t
we?” Mary asked, a note of worry in her voice. “After Hogwarts, we’ll still all be close, right?”

Lily’s brow furrowed slightly, and she gave Mary’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Of course we will,
Mac,” she said, her green eyes intent on Mary’s. “We’ll always be close.”

“Good,” Mary said, relieved. She pulled away from Lily’s hand regretfully, her fingers tingling at
the loss of contact, and picked up her quill again. She still had to finish her homework.

“The fourth ingredient is valerian root,” Lily said, her eyebrows raised in amusement, before Mary
could open her mouth. “Then you have to let it stew.” Mary grinned and wrote the information
down.

“Twenty-one clockwise stirs?” Mary inquired, glancing up at Lily. Lily shrugged, smiling.

“Technically, that’s what the textbook says,” she replied, lounging back against the tree. “But I
find with potions that it isn’t usually a good method to do too many stirs in one direction in a row.
When I added a counter-clockwise stir after every seven clockwise stirs in class, the potion reacted
well.”

Mary smiled and wrote it down. “If you don’t invent a potion to cure some rare disease someday
and name it after yourself, it’ll be a serious waste of potential, Lils,” she said, finishing her
sentence with a flourish and looking up at her best friend. Lily grinned back at her, her cheeks rosy
and eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Oh, I intend to, don’t worry,” she said, “once I’m working at the Antidote Research Center in St.
Mungo’s, of course.” Mary’s head jerked upward from where she’d been leaning down to write
more on her parchment, and she stared at Lily.

“Wait,” she said, staring at her in disbelief. “You got in?”

Lily nodded, her smile widening. She reached her hand into her bag and pulled out a folded piece
of parchment. “That was in the other letter I got this morning,” she said. Mary squealed and leaped
onto her, knocking Lily over with the force of her hug. Lily laughed as she fell over onto the grass,
her arms going around Mary in return as Mary embraced her with all her might, exclaiming over
the news.

The euphoria from Lily’s news infected all the seventh-year Gryffindors, despite the fact that none
of the rest of them had yet heard back about their own jobs. It was a moment of hope, something to
celebrate about the future rather than something to dread. They gathered in the Marauders’ room to
drink butterbeer and play games, something that had by that point become a tradition, and as Mary
looked around at them all, a feeling of deep affection overcame her. Lily was right: they were all a
family of sorts, who’d grown up together, learning from one another along the way. That much
was clear in how many of them had swallowed their pride and set aside their differences over the
years to become friends rather than rivals.

Still, Mary hadn’t forgotten about those people who weren’t part of the little group of Gryffindors,
either. That was why, when the next Hogsmeade weekend rolled around, she readied herself to
head down to the village with Miranda. The two girls had planned this weekend trip several weeks
before when Mary had received a letter from Alice Fortescue, asking if she’d like to meet in the
Three Broomsticks to catch up. When she’d told Miranda about it, Miranda asked if she could
come along, as the two girls had always been close with Alice before she’d graduated.

“You don’t want to go with Davey?” Mary had asked, surprised, quill poised to write back to
Alice. Miranda had grinned and shrugged.

“He can fend for himself for one day,” she’d said. “I haven’t seen Alice in forever.”

And so, when all the students in third year or older lined up to head out the doors on Saturday
morning, Miranda was by her side, both of them dodging through the crowd and trying not to get
squashed by all the people pressing in around them.

“Jesus Christ,” Miranda said, shoving an elbow into a tall fourth-year boy’s ribs who’d pushed her
to the side as he tried to move past. “People need to learn some manners already.” The boy glared
at her, and she made a face at him in return.

“Seriously,” Mary agreed, bracing herself against the crowd. “We have the whole day in the
village. I’m not sure why people are so fussed.”

She looked around, craning her neck to see how close they were to the front of the line. A few
yards ahead, she spotted Lily and James, holding hands and conversing with big smiles on their
faces. She looked away, turning to see how far the line extended behind her. Just then, she caught
sight of a head of dark hair, which seemed to be pushing its way through the crowd. The girl it
belonged to was rather small, like Mary herself, and she had a look of pure desperation on her face
as she tried to make her way through the people around her. Many were glaring at her as she
shoved through, annoyed with her carelessness.

Mary followed the girl’s gaze and was surprised to see that it appeared as if she was looking at
James and Lily, just as Mary had been moments earlier. Still, she was many yards away, still
struggling with the unrelenting crowd. Mary hesitated for a moment, then turned to Miranda.

“Wait here for me, alright?” she asked. “I have to talk to Lily real quick.”

Miranda raised her eyebrows at her but Mary shook her head, indicating that she’d explain later.
Miranda shrugged and nodded. “Sure, just don’t get trampled.” Mary shot her a quick smile, then
pushed through the few rows of people to get to where Lily and James were standing.

“Hey, Lils,” she greeted her friend quickly, pushing away her embarrassment at their coupled
stance as they turned toward her. “I saw a girl back in the crowd, black hair, short, looks like she’s
trying to get to you. Do you know who she is?”

Lily furrowed her brow, then looked behind Mary toward the crowd. “Maybe Anna?” she
suggested, frowning. “Though I’m not sure what she’d want now. Where did you see her?”

Mary turned, too, and found that suddenly, the girl was nowhere to be seen. Her eyebrows shot up
in surprise. “She was just over there,” she said, pointing behind where Miranda was still standing.
“Just a few seconds ago. I could’ve sworn she was making her way over here.”

Lily looked up at James, and they exchanged a puzzled, slightly concerned look. “That’s strange,”
Lily said. “I wonder what she wanted.”

“Maybe she got waylaid by the crowd,” James suggested, “and she’ll find us later?”
“Maybe,” Lily said, a note of concern in her voice. “I suppose there’s not much we can do about it
now, in any case.”

Lily frowned deeply, and Mary knew that like her, Lily felt as if something wasn’t right in this
situation. Mary knew that Anna was the fifth-year Slytherin girl who had told them only a few
months earlier about the identities of the Death Eaters within Slytherin house. Since then, Lily had
told her, Anna hadn’t had much to report. But Mary had seen the urgency on the younger girl’s
face, and she knew that didn’t bode well. She and Lily shared a look, then Lily took a deep breath
and seemed to try to shake her worry away.

“Keep an eye out for her, won’t you, Mac?” she asked Mary, giving her a smile. Mary nodded,
returning the smile, and ducked back through the crowd towards Miranda. She ignored the people
grumbling on either side of her, after all, she wasn’t cutting them in the line. When she arrived
back, Miranda’s eyebrows were raised.

“What was that all about?”

“There was a girl who seemed like she was trying to get to Lily and James,” Mary explained, a
worried crease remaining between her eyebrows. “She disappeared, though.”

“Oh, Anna Fawley?” Miranda asked, raising her eyebrows. “I saw her too but I didn’t realize that
was who she was looking for.”

“Did you see where she went?” Mary asked, perking up, but Miranda shook her head.

“No, the next time I looked back I couldn’t see her anymore,” she said. “I figured she just
disappeared in the crowd. She’s pretty short, after all.”

“Yeah,” Mary said uneasily. “How do you know her, anyway?”

“Oh, she’s in the Ravenclaw common room a lot these days,” Miranda replied, shrugging. “I
always make a point to say hello to her. I feel bad for her, to be honest. It doesn’t seem like she
feels safe in her own house anymore.”

Mary shivered involuntarily, thinking of the Slytherin boys. “I can’t blame her,” she said darkly.

Once Mary and Miranda finally reached the front of the queue and made it out of the castle doors,
they found the fresh air to be a welcome change from the crowded entrance hall. They spent the
walk down to the village catching up, and it was Miranda who first asked the question that Mary
had been going back and forth about in her mind.

“So, did Dumbledore talk to you about the Order, then?” Miranda asked, looking at Mary, her
eyebrows raised. Mary snapped her head around to look at her.

“Yes!” she exclaimed in relief. “Jesus, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about it for weeks but I
couldn’t figure out how to bring it up!”

Miranda gave her a slight smile, her eyes cautious. “Yes, well, I figured he must’ve asked you if
he’s not a dunce,” she said. “And you’re a Gryffindor, after all.”

“Were many Ravenclaws that you know about asked?” Mary demanded eagerly.

Miranda shrugged. “I don’t think so, to be honest,” she said. “It’s not been a topic of conversation,
at the very least. Dumbledore’s always been partial to Gryffindors, after all.”
“But you were asked,” Mary pointed out. Miranda looked back at her and gave her a sad, little
smile.

“Yeah,” she admitted. “But I’m not joining, Mary.”

All of Mary’s relief and happiness seeped out of her, and she stared at Miranda in disbelief. “Why
not?”

Miranda shook her head, picking a flower from the side of the road and twirling it between her
fingers as she walked. “I’m sorry, Mary,” she said. “It’s not that I’m not joining because I don’t
care. I’m not planning on standing on the sidelines, I hope you know that.”

She met Mary’s eyes, and Mary nodded reluctantly, though she was still filled with
disappointment. “So why, then?”

“I don’t trust him,” Miranda said simply. “I don’t trust Dumbledore.”

Mary narrowed her eyes. “Why not?”

“Because he’s asking us to join,” Miranda said. “We’re seventeen and eighteen-year-olds, after all.
Dumbledore is a well-respected wizard, he should have plenty of adult wizards ready to join and
fight back. Why us?”

Mary shrugged, taken aback at the question. “I don’t know, I figured there would be adult wizards
there, too,” she said.

“Yeah, probably,” Miranda conceded. “But still, I don’t think it’s quite right to ask people right out
of school to fight on the front lines of a war. When I told my mum, she threw a right fit over it. She
said he was abusing his influence over us by asking us to join while we’re still students, at the very
least.”

Mary frowned, never having thought about it in that way. Perhaps it was true. Still… “I just want
to do something,” she said, shrugging. “Maybe it’s not something we should be doing right out of
school, but I don’t care. I just want to help.”

Miranda nodded. “I understand that,” she said. “I want to help, too. Marcus and Florence have been
putting together a network through some of the Quidditch teams for a while now. I was thinking
about working with them a bit once I graduate. I think I’d like it better, too, because everyone will
be younger, and we’ll all be more or less on equal footing.”

“That makes sense,” Mary said. “That’s really great of them to set that up. Is the network about
gathering information?”

“Yeah, some of it is about gathering information and giving it to the right people,” Miranda
confirmed. “But it’s all sorts of things, Marcus said. I think sometimes they get word of attacks and
they get groups together to respond to them, that sort of thing. It’s not an obligation, though. Just
people wanting to help where they can.”

“Well, that’s great,” Mary said. “I wish you were going to be in the Order with me, of course, but I
respect your decision.”

“Thanks, Mary,” Miranda replied earnestly. “I hope being in the Order works out well for you, I
really do.”

“I hope so, too,” Mary said.

When they reached the village, the two girls stopped in the sweet shop quickly before heading to
the Three Broomsticks, and Miranda stuck a lollipop into her mouth right away after leaving,
grinning. “This trip couldn’t have come soon enough,” she said, her voice slightly garbled by the
sweet. “I just ran out of my sweets stash.”

Mary grinned, unwrapping one of her chocolate bars and popping a square into her mouth, too.
“There’s nowhere like Honeydukes,” she agreed. “I swear I’ll come back here for sweets when I’m
graduated.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Miranda agreed. “I bet that’s half the reason Alice wanted to visit.”

They both laughed, pushing their way into the Three Broomsticks, and almost immediately spotted
Alice. She was sitting in a booth by a window, sipping her butterbeer. When she saw Mary and
Miranda, she nearly slopped butterbeer down herself as she made to put it back onto the table. She
rose from her seat and the two girls hurried over, both giving her hugs and greeting her excitedly.

“How have you been?” Alice asked, grinning widely as she sat back down, Mary and Miranda
across from her, both reaching for the butterbeers Alice had already ordered them. Mary smiled,
examining Alice as she sipped her drink and allowed Miranda to fill Alice in on her life. Alice’s
hair was far shorter than when she’d last seen it, and she seemed to be carrying herself rather
differently, too. Perhaps it was something she’d picked up in Auror training.

“And how are you doing, Mary?” Alice asked, smiling at her once Miranda had finished.

“I’m good,” Mary said. “Already missing Hogwarts, but I’ve submitted all my job applications and
now I just have to wait to hear back. I’m excited for what comes next, too.”

Alice looked around the pub reminiscently. “Yeah, I don’t think I really realized how much I
missed this place until I came back,” she said. “I kind of miss the feeling of being a student in here,
too. It’s less special when I can come any old time.” She gave Mary a smile. “Don’t worry, though.
Life outside of Hogwarts is great.”

“Yeah?” Mary asked, smiling. “How great?”

Alice laughed. “Well, Auror training is good,” she said. “Though I do wish I had some more free
time.”

“And how’s Frank?” Miranda asked, smirking. Alice grinned.

“He’s good,” she said. “He keeps dropping hints that he wants to propose to me, and I keep telling
him that we’re only nineteen and he should save it until we’re in our twenties at least.”

“Alice!” Miranda exclaimed, laughing. “Give the poor boy a break, he’s head over heels for you.”

Alice giggled. “And I dearly love him in return,” she said, shaking her head in amusement. “But
neither of us has time to plan a wedding, and I know that as soon as we get married, our parents
will start badgering us over grandchildren, and I’m not ready for that.”

Mary smiled. “That’s definitely a scary thought,” she said.

Alice laughed. “Anyway, Frank is great,” she said. “The only trouble is, Dearborn put us on
opposite schedules for training and now we barely see each other.”

“Dearborn?” Mary echoed, confused.

“One of the older Aurors,” Alice clarified. Miranda grinned, tilting her head inquisitively.

“Why’d he do that?” she asked, a teasing note in her voice.

“Apparently he thought it’d increase our productivity,” Alice replied, flushing slightly even as she
rolled her eyes. “He said that we were taking too many breaks, which was not true.”

“I’m sure,” Miranda said, sipping her drink with a very self-satisfied look on her face.

Alice opened her mouth to retort, then she paused, frowning. “What’s that sound?” she asked,
looking around.

Mary listened, too, and after a moment, she thought she knew what Alice meant: there was a low,
unearthly whine in the air, getting louder and louder. The other people in the pub were beginning to
shush each other, their conversations ending in the middle of sentences as they all looked toward
the door. Mary had a split second to remember Anna Fawley’s desperate expression, her dark blue
eyes fixed on James and Lily as she pushed toward them through the crowd, before the sound of an
explosion came from the street outside and realization clicked into place. Alice leapt to her feet,
pulling her wand out and racing towards the door without hesitation.

Mary and Miranda followed her, Mary’s mind going blank with shock and confusion. What was
happening? They dodged through some of the other students and customers, who’d all begun to
stand and rush toward the door, too. The volume in the pub rose again, many voices crying out in
alarm. Mary ignored it and ducked out onto the high street, where a scene of mayhem greeted her.

Across the street from the Three Broomsticks, Honeydukes Sweet Shop was in ruins, the glass of
its windows shattered. People stumbled out, some with blood on their clothes. Miranda rushed over
to a girl who’d curled up on the ground, her hands over her face, wailing. She looked to be about
fourteen. Mary’s eyes, however, went straight to the figures in the middle of the street who were
masked, hooded, and dressed in all black.

“Death Eaters,” she whispered under her breath, horrified. Desperately, Mary turned to see where
Alice had gone and realized that she was right next to her, wand raised. From the tip issued a
silvery Patronus, but before Mary could get a good look at it, it disappeared, flying up away from
them, and Alice had turned back to the wizards in cloaks.

Alice’s face held an expression that Mary had rarely seen on it before: it was hard and determined,
and she didn’t glance at Mary before raising her wand again and charging straight toward the
Death Eaters. Mary hesitated for only a split second before following her, her wand drawn, pushing
away her fear. This was what she was planning on doing after Hogwarts, after all. She might as
well start now.

As Alice shot her first spell at one of the hooded wizards, the man turned, his wand raised, and
deflected it easily. Still, Mary didn’t think she imagined the unease that rippled through the group
of masked wizards as Alice began to duel them. Clearly, they hadn’t expected resistance. Mary fell
into step beside Alice and began to shoot spell after spell at the Death Eaters, too, advancing when
Alice did and falling back when appropriate.

“Mary,” Alice ground out through gritted teeth as she dodged the Death Eaters’ curses. “Get out of
here! You’re not trained to—”

“I’m not leaving you!” Mary shouted, the anger in her voice spurred on by her panic. “Please tell
me you sent for reinforcements!”
“I sent a message to Dumbledore!” Alice replied, slashing her wand in an arc and making one of
the Death Eaters fall back. “But if someone doesn’t come to help soon—” Just then, a jet of light
came from behind them, sliding cleanly between them and hitting one of the wizards in the face,
making him keel over.

Mary turned her head back to see James racing towards them, his wand out, his expression both
angry and fearful. Lily was right behind him, her red hair streaming behind her. Still, the relief that
rushed through Mary at the sight of them was tempered by the sound of another explosion in the
distance.

“There are more of them!” Mary shouted desperately as Lily ran to her side and shot a stunning
spell at the nearest Death Eater.

“Remus and Sirius are fighting some of them over there!” Lily shouted in reply, jerking her thumb
over her shoulder. “It seemed like you needed help over here, though!”

“Why are they here?!” Mary shouted in response, desperately shooting spells at the Death Eaters as
they advanced on them. Lily shook her head, her hair flying around her as she put up a shield charm
against a jet of light that had been coming right for her, which bounced back towards the Death
Eater who had cast it, causing him to duck.

“They could be trying to get into the castle,” James shouted from Lily’s other side. “Or it’s just a
show of violence, who knows!” He shot a hex at the Death Eater he was fighting that made the
man step back, clutching his chest with one hand, and Mary didn’t miss the look of loathing on
James’ face as he sent another jinx towards the hooded figure.

Before Mary could open her mouth to reply, however, there was another bang behind them, and,
distracted by the loud noise, she didn’t notice the Death Eater who hit her with a spell that knocked
her back. She fell, hitting the back of her head hard on the ground, and lay there stunned, her breath
knocked out of her lungs. Closing her eyes, she saw a flash of a dark corridor, a boy leering over
her, the sound of laughter...Mary blinked her eyes open, refusing to go back to that memory,
refusing to pass out.

“Mary?!” Lily’s frantic voice called, but she didn’t appear above her, and Mary gathered that she
was still occupied with dueling the Death Eaters. Mary groaned, squeezing her eyes tightly shut
again to try and banish the stars in her vision, then opening them again. This did indeed help, and
she rolled over onto her stomach. Slowly, Mary pushed herself to her feet, but this caused such a
dizzy spell that she swayed on the spot for a good thirty seconds, trying to regain her balance.
When she’d gathered herself, she looked around and found that the street was in even more chaos
than it’d been moments before.

Students were running everywhere, some of them screaming. Sharp pops sounded all over, and
Mary saw at least one wizard with a shiny Ministry badge appear in front of her, then run off in the
direction of the smoke. Aurors, she thought with relief. Dumbledore must’ve contacted them. Still,
the fighting wasn’t over yet, and several buildings behind where she’d been fighting before were
wrecked, shattered glass from their windows lying in the street. Mary spotted Sirius and Remus
through the crowd, dueling two Death Eaters. As Mary watched, another hooded figure appeared
from out of nowhere between two buildings and made straight for them.

“Sirius, Remus, watch out!” Mary screamed, and Remus, hearing her, looked around and spotted
the third Death Eater. However, the hooded figure he’d been dueling before took the opportunity to
raise his wand, sending a jet of light at Remus. Mary tried to hurry forward, but another wave of
dizziness overtook her, and she had to lean against a nearby building for support instead. Luckily,
Remus was only knocked sideways, and he recovered quickly. Marlene raced up, Dorcas hot on her
 heels, and engaged the Death Eater Remus had been fighting. When Dorcas shot a stunning spell at
the Death Eater Sirius was fighting and he keeled over, Sirius took the opportunity to send a jet of
light at the Death Eater who’d appeared between the buildings.

The Death Eater deflected the spell easily, however, but didn’t back away or attack back. Instead,
she laughed, a cold sound that reached Mary despite the noise around them, and lifted her hood,
revealing her long, dark hair. Unlike the other Death Eaters, she wasn’t wearing a mask, and her
cheekbones were sharp, her eyes heavily lidded, and her smile deadly. While many of the other
Death Eaters were fleeing now, disapparating to escape the Aurors and hauling some of their
unconscious comrades along with them, the woman who was facing Sirius stood her ground. Sirius
took a step forward, and Mary could see, even from a distance, the fury on his face.

“Bellatrix,” he spat. “I should’ve known you’d be here.”

“Is that the best you can do, little cousin?” Bellatrix sneered, and quick as a flash, Sirius’ wand
was raised, and they were dueling.

Mary looked on with horror, not able to tear her eyes away even as Lily ran over to her, her dueling
opponent having fled. Lily watched, too, even as she slung an arm around Mary’s waist, helping to
support some of her weight as both girls held their breaths. It seemed that no one was quite sure of
what to do. Marlene, Remus, and Dorcas seemed to be trying to find an opening, an opportunity to
help, but to no avail. Sirius’ and Bellatrix’ spells flashed like lightning in the air, and sometimes it
was impossible to tell who’d cast a spell at whom due to the speed in which they often rebounded.
Mary knew as she looked on that this was more than a simple duel for survival. Something much
more complex was being worked out here.

What happened in the next few seconds happened in quick succession. Sirius sent a Disarming
Charm towards Bellatrix, who held tight to her wand and repelled him with a powerful shield
charm. He stepped back involuntarily, and in that moment, she saw an opening. Bellatrix raised her
wand, a deadly expression on her face, and sent a jet of red light at him. The next thing Mary
knew, Sirius had fallen to his knees on the ground, his eyes tight shut as he fought to keep his body,
which was twitching uncontrollably, still. Bellatrix’s face split into an evil smile, satisfaction all
over her features as she reveled in the pain she’d caused.

“Sirius!” Remus yelled, horror filling his voice, and he dashed forward at last, knocking Bellatrix
back with a jinx. She lowered her wand, fury filling her features again as she looked over at
Remus. Still, she hesitated, seeming to realize for the first time that she was vastly outnumbered.
She paused a moment longer, as if reluctant to leave a rather entertaining party, but finally turned
on the spot and vanished before their eyes. Mary blinked and looked around, realizing that all the
hooded figures were gone, and the street was empty but for a few students huddled in corners,
shaking, and the Aurors, who were trying to gain control over the scene.

“It’s over,” she said, sighing in relief. Then, she promptly passed out.

Chapter End Notes

I was just thinking today about how it’s kind of amazing how a lot of chapters I’m
writing and posting at the moment have plot points and scenes in them that I planned
from almost the beginning of writing this fic. Like, back when I started it, these scenes
seemed so incredibly far into the future that I couldn’t even begin to think about
writing them, but I’m at that point now where they’re in actual completed chapters.

I guess I’m just thinking that maybe I should be more proud of myself for how far I’ve
gotten in this story rather than thinking about how much longer it’ll take to write the
rest that I’ve imagined, or beating myself up over not going as fast as I’d like.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter! More next weekend :)

 1978: Unreachable
Chapter Notes

Happy first day of Hanukkah to all those who celebrate it!

cw: graphic depictions of violence (in past), references to abuse

When Bellatrix had disappeared, Sirius didn’t fall, though he swayed slightly where he was
kneeling. Remus ran to his side, wand still in his hand, but he hesitated to touch Sirius, his hand
hovering by his shoulder before he dropped it. Sirius took a deep breath, then opened his eyes. He
didn’t look at Remus but stared back at the place where Bellatrix had been. It seemed to take a
moment for him to realize that she was no longer there, and only then did he look over to Remus,
who was crouching next to him.

“She left?” Sirius asked, sounding dazed. Remus nodded, eyes scanning Sirius’ face with concern.

“They’re all gone, Sirius,” Remus said. “It’s over.”

“Good,” Sirius said, letting out a deep sigh, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When he
opened them again, Sirius seemed to have shaken away the haze that had overcome him. “That’s
good,” he said again, his voice stronger this time. Remus, surprised by Sirius’ sudden alertness,
stood and reached out a hand to try and help him up, but Sirius pushed himself to his feet on his
own, brushing off his trousers and looking around.

“Where are the others?” Sirius asked, turning to Remus. Remus blinked at him, shocked, then
turned to find that Marlene and Dorcas had disappeared.

“Marley and Dee were just here,” Remus said, turning in a circle and then spotting them a few
yards away, crowded around someone on the ground. Sirius seemed to register the scene at the
exact same moment as Remus, and without a word, he raced toward them.

“What’s going on?” Sirius demanded, Remus skidding to a stop behind him and still trying to wrap
his head around what had just happened.

“It’s Mary,” Marlene said, turning back to them, concern all over her dirt-smeared face. “She
blacked out.”

“I’m fine,” grumbled Mary from the ground, squinting up at the people around her. “Really, I am, I
just fainted.”

“You hit your head before,” Lily said sternly. “You are not fine.”

“Sirius, are you alright?” Marlene asked, her voice low, eyes scanning up and down Sirius’ body in
concern, looking for any outward signs of injury. “That was—wasn’t that the Cruciatus Curse?”

“Yeah,” Sirius replied. “But I’m alright now, don’t worry about me. We should go around and see
if anyone else is injured.”

“Sirius, do you really think you should be—” Dorcas started, concern filling her voice, but Sirius
had already run off. Remus shared an alarmed look with Dorcas and Marlene, then hurried after
him.

Much to Sirius’ chagrin, however, the Aurors had taken control of the scene by then, and they
shooed away the students’ attempts to help, telling them to go back to the castle. Alice Fortescue,
who Remus recognized despite her pixie cut and the dirt and blood on her face, personally
threatened to tell on Sirius to Professor McGonagall if he didn’t leave, so Sirius regretfully led the
group back up to the castle. Remus watched him as he walked ahead, studying his movements for
traces of pain, but as far as he could tell, there were none. Still, Remus himself had gotten very
good at concealing signs of his own discomfort during the days surrounding full moons, so he
knew that Sirius could well be faking his quick recovery.

Sirius glanced back at the group, meeting Remus’ gaze for a split second before hastily turning
back around. Remus narrowed his eyes at him, a terrible mixture of worry, frustration, and love
coursing through him. Why couldn’t Sirius ever make something easy?

They all headed to the Hospital Wing first, where they deposited Mary in a bed and Madam
Pomfrey began to fuss over her. Once the matron had examined the place where Mary had hit her
head and healed as much of it as she could, she gave her a potion to take and pronounced her
alright to leave. This surprised them all, but Mary stood up gratefully, a smile on her face. Remus
thought that Madam Pomfrey was probably overwhelmed by the many students who’d need
treatment for their cuts and bruises from the explosions in the village. Aside from the students
sitting on beds, looking shell-shocked and slightly bloody as they awaited the matron’s attention,
Remus could also see several beds with curtains drawn around them, their occupants clearly
recovering from more severe injuries.

“Is anyone else hurt?” Madam Pomfrey asked, stepping back and looking them all up and down
critically. Remus looked over at Marlene, who was giving him a sidelong look, too, but before
either could open their mouths, Sirius spoke.

“No, we’re all alright,” he said cheerfully. Even James, who hadn’t witnessed the duel between
Bellatrix and Sirius, shot his best friend a suspicious look at that.

“Then please go back to your dormitories,” Madam Pomfrey said. “You could all do with some
rest, and in Miss Macdonald’s case, that’s not just a suggestion.” She shot Mary a pointed look
which Mary cowered under, then she bustled back over to another student.

With that, they headed to the dormitory in near silence. Remus glared at Sirius in concentration the
whole time, trying to figure out the puzzle that was his miraculous recovery from the torture curse
while Sirius resolutely avoided his gaze. James glanced between them in confusion, while Peter
looked lost in thought, his expression serious, his eyes glazed over. The girls were subdued, too,
and Lily refused to release her arm around Mary despite the smaller girl’s assurance that it wasn’t
necessary.

When they reached the common room, the boys parted from the girls at the bottom of the staircase
that led up to their respective dormitories with little fuss, but Marlene gave Remus a pointed look
as she left, holding the clear message: Make him talk about it. Remus gave her a small nod and
followed the rest up the stairs. Still, it wasn’t Remus who spoke to Sirius first.

“Alright, what the bloody hell is going on?” James demanded, rounding on them as soon as they
reached the privacy of their dorm.

“What do you mean?” Sirius asked, raising his eyebrows innocently. James looked like he was
trying to restrain himself from hitting Sirius, but contented himself with crossing his arms over his
chest and sending his best friend a glare.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Padfoot,” he replied shortly. “You’re obviously trying to compensate
for some kind of injury, and you’re avoiding Remus’ eyes for all your life is worth. What’s going
on?”

“It’s—” Sirius cast a look at Remus desperately, but Remus didn’t let his look sway him, his gaze
unyielding. He wouldn’t be Sirius’ way out of this conversation, not when he himself wanted so
badly to have it. Sirius turned away from Remus, back to James.

“It’s not a big deal,” he said reluctantly. “I dueled Bellatrix. She was there.”

“Oh, fucking Christ, Padfoot, I’m sorry,” James said, his expression turning from frustration to
sympathy in a heartbeat. “I know that must’ve been—”

“Bellatrix cursed him,” Remus broke in before James could get any further. He wouldn’t let Sirius
tell only half the story. All three boys turned to stare at him, but Remus’ eyes were all for Sirius.
“She put the Cruciatus Curse on him,” he said, his eyes still locked with his boyfriend’s. “And I’m
trying to figure out how he’s still standing right now.”

“Moony,” Sirius said imploringly, moving toward him, a placating hand outstretched. Remus
avoided it, however, standing and beginning to pace, staring at Sirius.

“You’re going to need to explain this one to me, Sirius,” Remus said. “Because everything that I’ve
ever read about that curse for D.A.D.A. says that victims can take days to recover and most can’t
even stand after it’s been placed on them, let alone run around like you’ve been doing for the past
hour. I thought it must be adrenaline at first, but that should’ve worn off by now, and you’re still
acting like everything is fine.”

Sirius stared at Remus, searching his eyes for a second before James broke in, obviously recovering
from part of his shock at Remus’ words. “You were hit with the Cruciatus Curse?” he demanded,
rounding on Sirius. Sirius looked over at him and gave a small, sheepish nod. James’ eyes blazed,
and he grabbed Sirius’ arm, pulling him towards the door. “Alright, we’re going straight back to
Madam Pomfrey!”

“Prongs, fuck off,” Sirius said, shaking James off him and rolling his eyes, though Remus knew
that the note of anger in his voice was very real. “I’m alright, aren’t I? You’re sounding more and
more like your mum every day.”

“You just got an unforgivable fucking curse put on you, Padfoot!” James exclaimed, matching
Sirius’ tone and glowering down at his best friend in a way that, if the circumstances were
different, Remus was sure Sirius would joke was vaguely homoerotic. “I’m taking you to the
fucking matron!”

“I’m with Moony and Prongs on this one, Padfoot,” Peter broke in, crossing his arms. “If you want
to tell us why you’re so okay after being crucified, be our guest. If not, you should go to the
Hospital Wing.”

James threw up his hands, looking as if he was pleading for some note of sense to re-enter the
conversation. “Why do those two things have to be mutually exclusive?!” he demanded. Still, the
rest of the boys ignored him, and Sirius’ gaze came back to rest on Remus. It was almost gentle
now, as if he was getting ready to soften a blow. He let out a deep sigh, seeming to deflate slightly,
then hitched a sad, half-smile onto his face.
“Remus, love,” he said, not looking at the other two boys. “Do you really think that’s the first time
I’ve ever been hit by a Cruciatus Curse?”

Remus blinked, and it took a couple of seconds for his brain to catch up as he processed Sirius’
words. The silence stretched in the dorm as they stared at one another. Finally, he choked out one
word: “What?”

Sirius sighed again, his gaze flicking away from Remus around to the other boys before returning
to him reluctantly. “Moony, you know what my family is like,” he said bitterly. “That’s not even
the first time darling Bellatrix has used the curse on me.”

“Bellatrix has used the Cruciatus Curse on you before today?” Remus asked, feeling slightly
lightheaded, his mind overwhelmed by what he was hearing.

“Of course, it’s her specialty,” Sirius said, trying to brush off the statement with a grin, but his
smile emerged as more of a grimace. Remus’ eyes focused on Sirius’ face, his mind reeling. Who
was this person standing in front of him? How could Sirius have never divulged this information
before, when Remus knew he hadn’t been in his family home in almost two years?

“How many times?” Remus asked, staring at Sirius with wide eyes, shock still washing over him in
waves.

“Remus…” Sirius trailed off, looking at him imploringly. “Come on, you don’t really want to—”

“How many, Sirius?” Remus said, his voice louder this time. He knew he was being unreasonable.
He knew he shouldn’t be shouting at Sirius right now, after finding out that he’d been tortured by
his family multiple times before then, but the fear and pain he felt when thinking about Sirius
being hurt in this way, with the image of Sirius being tortured by Bellatrix still fresh in his mind,
was overwhelming him, and he felt completely out of control. He both wanted to hold Sirius to him
and never let him go, and scream at him for never telling him the extent of his parents’ abuse and
being too stubborn to ever accept their help.

Sirius looked over at James and Peter imploringly, who were both silently watching their exchange
with wide eyes. James shook his head, his expression having settled into shock and pain, just like
Remus’.

“You can’t just say something like that and leave it there, Padfoot,” he said, meeting Sirius’ eyes.
Sirius let out his breath in a huff, sounding slightly annoyed as he turned back to Remus.

“The first time was the night that Andy was disowned, when I was thirteen,” he said, sounding as
if every word was being torn from him against his will.

“Your cousin, Andromeda?” James broke in, his eyes narrowed. Sirius nodded.

“Yeah, she announced that she was marrying Ted at Christmas dinner when I was thirteen,” Sirius
said, his expression dark, eyes containing a closed look in them that Remus knew well. There was a
long pause, during which Sirius was apparently lost in his recollections, then he shook himself and
continued. “Andy was lucky; she got away. Bellatrix would’ve killed her if she’d gotten the
chance, but Narcissa seemed to still care, despite everything, so she blocked her from Bella.”

“So…so Bellatrix cursed you instead?” Peter asked, sounding scared. Sirius glanced over at him
and shook his head.

“Nah, it wasn’t her that time. I told Andy to run when I saw Narcissa faltering, so I helped her
escape, and after they all left, my mum cursed me for getting involved.” Sirius turned his gaze back
to Remus reluctantly. “You’re right that it can take days to recover from the curse. That first time,
Reg had to help me up, and I could barely move. He helped me to my room and took care of me in
the days after that. I ached for days, and I slept for most of the first 48 hours afterward.”

There was a moment of silence, and Peter was the one to break it. “So that’s why you never went
back there for Christmas after second year,” he said, his eyes widening in realization, staring at his
friend.

“You were only thirteen years old!” James burst out, furious. “It’s a wonder you survived at all!”

Sirius shrugged, his shoulders slumped, avoiding all of their gazes. “Well, during the summers
after that, I suppose I stopped regulating myself as much around my family. I stopped caring what I
said around them and started mouthing off to my mum and dad way more than I ever had. I was
fucking angry, and I was sick of it all. I felt like I didn’t have much to lose after Andy left. I knew
that eventually, they’d kick me out, too, and I figured, well...maybe sooner would be better than
later?”

“But they didn’t kick you out until after fifth year,” Remus said, dreading what Sirius would tell
them next.

“Yeah, I didn’t think it would take them so long,” Sirius admitted, his hands turning to fists. “I
suppose they didn’t want to disown me while there was still a chance that I’d make a good
pureblood marriage and be the heir I was supposed to be. I suppose they still thought there was a
chance that they could beat the fight out of me.”

He looked up at them, and in his grey eyes, Remus felt as if he could see the shadowy figure of the
boggart in their third year when it’d turned into Walburga Black. Sirius’ words echoed back to him,
then, saying: “I’m scared of what she’ll do to me when the time comes that my father doesn’t hold
her back.” So that had been a lie, just as Remus had suspected all those years ago.

“How many times?” James repeated Remus’ earlier question, sounding sad and resigned. Sirius
met his best friend’s gaze quickly before darting his eyes back down to the ground.

“About twice a summer or so, until I left.”

“Sirius…” James let out his name as a groan, his hands rubbing over his eyes then going up to pull
at his hair in despair, making it look like a bird’s nest.

“And Bellatrix?” Remus asked, still staring at Sirius warily.

“She only cursed me once before today, the night I left. It was a big family dinner...no one stood
up to protect me like Narcissa did for Andy.”

“So I suppose you got better at resisting the curse over time?” Remus asked, feeling slightly sick as
he thought about how much pain it’d take for someone to become immune to the effects of an
Unforgivable Curse.

“Not resisting it, exactly. I’m not sure that’s possible,” Sirius said, sounding exhausted all of a
sudden. “I got better at enduring the pain, I suppose, and recovery became a lot quicker. I mean,
I’m still aching now, trust me, but I can move after I’m hit. I can stay standing. I can push through
the pain. It still hurts about as much as it ever did, but I’m more able to function afterward than I
was originally.”

There was a whole minute of silence after Sirius’ statement, during which all three Marauders
stared at him as he stared down at the ground. Finally, James broke it.
“Why did you never tell us?” Sirius looked up at him, shame and regret filling his gaze, and James
continued. “I mean, even with everything you ever told me about your family, even when you told
us that they abused you in third year after the boggart incident...that was after your mother had
cursed you for the first time, but you didn’t mention it at all. That last night, the night you left your
family for good, when Bellatrix cursed you...I was with you that night. You came to me, you came
to my parents. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Sirius sighed and looked up, meeting James’ gaze. He looked younger than he usually did, and
sadder than Remus had ever seen him look, too. “I didn’t want to worry you all more than I knew I
was already doing, and I didn’t think I could deal with your pity, or your anger. When I saw the
looks on your faces when I told you about my parents hitting me after the boggart incident, I didn’t
think I could deal with you looking any more horrified. Anyway, I wanted to handle it by myself.
If I asked for help, I felt like it’d mean that my mother had won, and I couldn’t let her know that
she’d broken me.”

“You stubborn mutt,” James growled, his voice as full of affection as it was frustration as he
walked over to pull Sirius into a hug. Sirius, seeming a little startled, wrapped his arms around
James after a moment, looking rather relieved. As James pulled away, Sirius turned his gaze to
meet Remus’ eyes. Remus still felt frozen, staring at Sirius, conflicting emotions flitting through
his mind.

“Remus, please,” Sirius implored him, “I know I should’ve told you, but—”

“Shut up,” Remus said fiercely, striding forward and wrenching Sirius into a hug, too. He clung to
Sirius tightly as Sirius buried his face into Remus’ shoulder, his arms wrapping around Sirius’
waist. They clung to each other for a long time, and when Remus finally let go, he only pulled back
slightly to press a kiss to Sirius’ forehead. He drew back to meet Sirius’ grey eyes.

“You don’t have to apologize for not telling me. Just—” He hesitated, not sure exactly what he
wanted to ask at all, and shook his head tiredly. “Just be alright now, okay? Just promise me you’re
alright.”

“I’m alright,” Sirius said, and Remus almost laughed because this time he knew Sirius was lying,
but it was okay. Sirius turned to the other two boys, who were busying themselves with trying to
make themselves invisible so that they wouldn’t be intruding on Remus and Sirius’ personal
moment.

“Can we get back to what the fuck happened out there?” Sirius asked. “What was that? Why did
they attack Hogsmeade?”

James sighed, sitting heavily down on the bed. “I have no fucking clue,” he said. “They could’ve
been trying to get into Hogwarts, but it could easily just be a scare tactic, too. You know,
brutalizing Hogwarts students to send a message.”

“If they wanted to get into the castle, they wouldn’t go about it by breaking windows in the
village,” Remus pointed out. “I’m guessing it’s the latter.”

James nodded, then his eyes widened suddenly. “Shit!” he swore, standing up. “Anna tried to warn
us!” He stared around at the rest of them, who stared back in confusion. James began to pace,
clearly thinking. “Mary told Lily and me that she saw Anna making her way toward us through the
crowd when we were all lined up to go into the village. But when we looked for her, she was
nowhere to be found. Maybe she’d heard something about the attack and they intercepted her!”

“Merlin,” Peter said, his face filled with horror. “Do you think she’s alright?”
“I don’t know,” James said, already digging through the drawer in his bedside table. Clearly not
finding what he was looking for, he turned to the others. “Does anyone know where the map is?”

“I’ve got it,” Peter said, grabbing it off his nightstand and handing it to James. “I snuck out with
Layla last night, sorry, forgot to put it back.” He looked a little sheepish, but none of the other boys
paid much attention as James unlocked it and they all waited with bated breath to see what it’d
show. After a few moments of searching, James came up with his answer.

“There!” he exclaimed, but his face fell almost immediately. “She’s in the Hospital Wing.” He
stood up again suddenly, but Remus pushed him back down.

“Prongs, you know Pomfrey won’t let you see her, no matter what state she’s in,” he said
reasonably, and James, though he looked mutinous, admitted defeat.

“How could they have found out that she was trying to warn us and intercepted her so quickly,
though?” James wondered aloud. As soon as he’d said it, however, his expression darkened.

“What?” all the other boys demanded, and James looked up at them. His features took on a rather
shifty look, and he avoided Sirius’ gaze in particular.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Just a guess I had earlier about...things. Not—”

“Spit it out,” Sirius demanded. James hesitated again, then looked up at him.

“It’s—it’s about your brother,” he said. Sirius narrowed his eyes at James suspiciously.

“What about him?”

“It’s just...Anna told me something, and it made me guess…” James looked as if every cell in his
body was protesting at sharing his theory, but finally, he blurted out: “I think Regulus is a Death
Eater.”

There was a long silence in which Sirius stared at James, a dangerous expression on his face, and
James stared back imploringly. Finally, Sirius spoke. “What did she say that makes you think
that?” he asked, his voice measured.

James sighed, and shook his head. “I can’t tell you that,” he said. Before Sirius could protest, he
continued. “Look, she made me promise that I wouldn’t. She just told me something about
someone and made reference to a Death Eater in Slytherin who I think is Regulus. I think they
might’ve been friends before.”

Sirius glared at James. “You can’t just tell me that you think my brother is a Death Eater, then give
me no context that I could use to argue the point with,” he said, his jaw clenched. “Besides, what
does this have to do with what happened today, anyway?” James shifted on his feet almost guiltily,
and Sirius’ expression darkened still further. “No, James. I know what you’re thinking, and don’t
even say it.”

“But if they were friends before, maybe he caught on to what she was doing and he told the rest!
Maybe that’s why she was intercepted!”

“James, no,” Sirius said again, his voice steely. “My brother wouldn’t do that, not to a friend.”

“Padfoot, it’s been two years since you’ve spoken to him,” James retorted. “How do you know
what he would or wouldn’t do now?”
“Because I know him!” Sirius exclaimed, but there was hesitation in his voice, and Remus knew he
was wondering if that was even still true. He seemed to shake off his doubt, however, looking back
at James accusingly. “How long have you suspected this, anyway?”

“Since the first time Anna came to talk to me and Lily,” James admitted regretfully. “So, January.”

“You waited four months to tell me this?!” Sirius demanded, his voice rising now, anger and fear
battling in his tone.

“I wasn’t sure!” James defended, though he looked very guilty. “I’m still not sure. And really,
Sirius, even if he is a Death Eater, I don’t think there’s anything you can do!”

“I have to talk to him,” Sirius said, turning abruptly and striding towards the door. James stood and
caught his arm, trying to hold him back.

“Sirius,” James implored his friend. “He told you to leave, he told you to leave and never look
back! He told you he wouldn’t go with you. He chose—”

“He was fourteen when he said those things, James,” Sirius spat at him, yanking his arm out from
the other boy’s grip. “He’s only sixteen now. And so what? Are you saying that I shouldn’t act like
his brother anymore because he said those things? If I were to judge someone based on what they
said in anger, I’d be the worst kind of hypocrite.” His eyes settled on Remus for a moment, then
went back to James. “I’m his older brother. I can’t just leave him to get himself killed on the wrong
side.”

“Versus getting killed on the right side, like we’re signing up to do?” James asked wryly. Silence
fell in the dormitory as they all stared at him. James sighed and sat down on his four-poster bed
again.

“I’m sorry,” he said heavily. “But Regulus has refused to look at or speak to you since you left
home. It seems like he’s chosen his side.”

“I can’t let him do it,” Sirius said, continuing to shake his head, denial written all over his face.

“You can’t save him, Sirius,” Remus broke in quietly. “Not from himself.” Sirius looked over at
him, all anger on his pale face. He glared at Remus for a moment, and there was more than anger
in his grey eyes: it was betrayal. Remus felt a pang of regret go through him.

“Bugger all of you,” Sirius said, turning on his heel and storming out of the dormitory. Remus
made to follow him but James stood and held him back, shaking his head.

“He just got cursed,” Remus exclaimed, looking at James in shock. “We can’t just let him—”

“Sirius can take care of himself,” James said. “He needs time to think, away from all of us. We
can’t force him to believe anything he doesn’t want to.”

“You realize what you just asked him to do?” Peter demanded, his tone incredulous and slightly
bitter. James and Remus both turned to him and found him standing with his back poker straight,
his glare piercing both of them. “You just asked him to forsake his brother. To abandon him, give
him up as a bad job. Are you two kidding?”

“Pete, Regulus is—” James started, but Peter shook his head, a look of disgust on his face that
stopped James in his tracks.

“Are we soldiers already?” he asked quietly, his voice practically shaking with anger. “I don’t
know if you two are just pretending not to care or if it’s really true, but it doesn’t matter to me
either way. Whether or not we’ve signed up to fight in a war, we’re still people, still friends. You
don’t say something like that to a friend.”

He shook his head again, then retreated to his bed, drawing the hangings shut around him with a
snap. James and Remus were left to stare at one another in the otherwise empty dorm room, and
Remus was sure the pit in his stomach must be mirrored in James’, too.

“I don’t fucking know what’s right and what’s wrong anymore,” James said after a moment,
staring at Remus hollowly. “I try to say the right thing, do the right thing, but it all just seems to…”
He made a helpless gesture with his hands, and Remus nodded, understanding.

“Right and wrong seem to have gotten very complicated recently,” he agreed. He thought of Sirius
again, and looked over at James anxiously. “He’ll be alright, won’t he?”

James sighed and shook his head. “I have no fucking idea,” he said, sitting down heavily on his
bed again. “But following him will only make him madder.”

Remus nodded, and they lapsed into helpless silence again. Finally, James drew his own curtains
around his bed, and Remus retreated to his own four-poster, too. He tried to read, but he was too
distracted by thoughts of Sirius and how he must be trying to break into the Slytherin common
room now to talk to Regulus. He wondered how long Sirius would stay out there if no one came to
answer his call, banging on the door and yelling. The thought only made the pit in his stomach
grow larger.

....

Remus was awoken by a blast of cold air coming through his curtains many hours later. He sat bolt
upright, and as he did so, his book fell from where it’d been lying on his chest. He must’ve fallen
asleep, lost in thoughts, he realized. Now, the dormitory was dark, and Remus knew that it must be
the middle of the night.

“Remus?” a voice whispered, and Remus realized that it was Sirius’ hands that had parted the
curtains, letting the chilly outside air in through them. He was squinting in the darkness, just his
head peeking inside, trying to see if Remus was awake.

“Sirius?” Remus asked, confused. “Come inside.”

There was the sound of a slight scuffle as Sirius made his way in through the hangings and settled
himself beside Remus on the bed. In the dark, Remus tried to search around for his wand, but
before he could, a light appeared at the end of Sirius’, illuminating the bed. Remus blinked
slightly, and as his eyes adjusted he took in the sight of Sirius sitting across from him. His eyes,
Remus noted, were rimmed with red. He’d been crying.

“Hello,” Sirius said almost sheepishly, looking at Remus. His voice was low, but Remus began to
search around for his wand again, thinking of James and Peter in the neighboring beds. Sirius
reached out a hand to still his.

“I cast a silencing charm already,” he said. “They won’t be able to hear us.”

“Oh,” Remus said, ceasing his search. “Alright, then.” He looked at Sirius again. “So…” he said.
“What happened?”

Sirius shook his head, and Remus registered the sadness and disgust on his face. “I didn’t get to
talk to him,” he said. “I stood outside of the common room for hours trying to get inside, but no
one even bothered to come out to tell me to shut up. I suppose they just cast a silencing charm on
the portrait hole and were done with it.”

Remus nodded not unsympathetically and continued to look at Sirius, studying his expression. “But
you’re not mad at me anymore,” he stated finally when Sirius didn’t speak again. “What made you
change your mind?”

Sirius snorted slightly, which seemed like half a laugh and half derisive. “I still am,” he said, but
his expression didn’t match his tone, and he sighed. “I mean, I don’t know. I sort of am. I’m angry
at you and James for saying that Reg was a lost cause.”

Remus nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said. “We shouldn’t have said that. He’s your brother. Pete told us
off after you left, you know.”

Sirius’ face broke into a slight smile, but it faded quickly. “Yeah, well,” he said. “You were kind
of right, though, too. I have to admit that. I was angry at James for suggesting that Reg joined, but
it’s not like it would be too unexpected, either. If it is true, I wish I could be more surprised than I
am. And James was right about me not being able to reach him, obviously.”

He let out a slight, bitter laugh, and Remus ached to lean forward and take one of Sirius’ hands in
his, but there was an invisible barrier separating them while Sirius was blocked off in his own
pain, and Remus didn’t feel able to.

“Anyway,” Sirius said, bitterness still evident in his voice. “He won’t talk to me. I can’t get
through to him, because he won’t fucking talk to me.” The anger in his expression quickly faded,
to be replaced with a heartbreaking look of sadness, like the weight of the world had been placed
on his shoulders. He continued, his voice sounding exhausted and overwhelmed: “And Professor
Abbott won’t fucking talk to me, either, and I’ve tried to catch him after almost every D.A.D.A.
lesson since Alphard died. I wish people would just fucking say things, instead of hiding. I’m tired
of all the hiding.”

With this, Remus really did move closer to Sirius, wrapping him in a hug, and Sirius, after a
moment of stiffness, melted into him, head resting on Remus’ shoulder. Remus felt tears slide
down onto his skin, and he clung tighter. He imagined it again, now, Sirius yelling curses at the
Slytherin portrait hole as it refused to open to him, then collapsing against the wall opposite,
beginning to cry silently even as he still tried to hold onto his anger, tried to keep up the emotion
that protected him against the tears, and the shame, and the grief. Because it was easier to be angry
at Regulus than grieve for the brother he’d lost, who was still there. And it was easier to be angry
at Professor Abbott than grieve for Alphard, and all the things Sirius wouldn’t know about him
because their professor was too afraid—or too ashamed—to admit to his relationship with Alphard,
even after the other man was dead.

“I wish you hadn’t gone alone,” Remus said as Sirius’ tears began to slow against his skin. He
guided them down so that they were lying in the bed, Sirius still cradled against him. “Not after
what happened today, especially.”

“Why can’t you just let me be self-destructive for once in peace?” Sirius asked, his voice slightly
muffled by tears, but with a half-joking note in it nonetheless. Remus sighed, taking a moment to
gather up the words to reply.

“Because I fucking love you,” Remus said finally, very aware of his heart beating in his chest as he
said it. “And besides, you know you never give me the luxury of doing self-destructive things
without interference.”
Sirius stilled in Remus’ arms, then pushed himself up, disentangling himself from Remus, and
looked at him. Remus stared back at Sirius, unembarrassed and unapologetic, though his heart was
still pounding in his chest like a drum.

“That’s the first time you’ve said that,” Sirius said softly after a moment, and he wasn’t crying
anymore. “I’m not crazy, right? That is the first time you’ve said that?”

“It is,” Remus admitted. “But I’ve wanted to say it for a long time now.”

Sirius smiled in a way that made Remus feel as if he was looking into the sun, as it was almost
painful, but he couldn’t look away from the blaze that was Sirius. And suddenly, Sirius was no
longer crying or full of rage, but was leaning forward toward Remus, and Remus was leaning into
him, too. When their lips met, it was hungry, and Remus felt as if he was being consumed by
Sirius, by the fire that was his mere presence. Normally, after Sirius had moods like that day, he
was distant, a shuttered look coming over his eyes that Remus couldn’t break through, but now, he
was achingly present.

Sirius’ lips trailed across Remus’ neck, sucking and biting, making Remus arch up to him. In
return, Remus ran his fingers through Sirius’ hair, pulling slightly in the way that he knew Sirius
liked, and was rewarded by the feel of Sirius’ breath coming heavier against his neck. Sirius’ hands
were demanding, inching below Remus’ shirt, tugging it up and off him. He pressed his lips to
Remus’ chest, moving lower.

“Wait, Sirius,” Remus said suddenly, making Sirius look up, his expression slightly amused and a
little annoyed. Remus tried to catch his breath, tried to ignore the heat coursing through his body,
the ache that had pooled in him that demanded Sirius closer.

“What?” Sirius said, arching an eyebrow, heat evident in his eyes, too.

Remus gulped, but took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. The tone of the evening had
shifted so quickly between them, and while on the one hand, Remus knew that this path—from
mutual understanding and comfort to desire for one another—wasn’t unfamiliar for the two of
them, he needed to make sure that Sirius wasn’t making decisions that he’d regret later.

“Are you sure about this?” Remus asked. “With everything that happened today, don’t you want to
rest, or—”

“I’m sure, Remus,” Sirius said, and he gave him a slight smile and a shrug. “I feel fine, and I can’t
sleep, not now. And I don’t think I want to talk about any of it anymore, either. All I want to do is
be with you. If you want this, too, that is?”

Remus took a deep breath and nodded, then pulled Sirius up to kiss him again. “I do,” he said after
he broke the kiss. “There’s nothing in the world I want more, right now.”

Sirius smiled back at him, his grin turning wicked, and moved back to kiss down his chest again.
Remus let his head fall back, immensely glad for the silencing charm on the bed as he tried to catch
his breath and Sirius moved lower.

....

When Remus woke the next morning, Sirius was laying against his chest, and he kept his eyes
closed for a long moment, smiling as he inhaled the smell of him, savoring the feel of Sirius’ skin
against his. Still, morning brought reality back in, and Remus knew that the excitement the night
before had brought couldn’t wash away the events of the previous day.
When Sirius and Remus rose and dressed, James apologized to Sirius, and Sirius accepted
graciously, telling the other two about the outcome of his misbegotten adventure the previous
night. Before breakfast, they visited Anna in the Hospital Wing. She was sitting up in her bed, a
bruise blooming on her cheek and a faraway look in her eyes, but otherwise recovering quickly
from whatever the other Slytherins had done to intercept her.

It was with great reluctance that Anna confirmed James’ theory about Regulus being the one to get
in her way the previous day, turning her in to the other Slytherins. Remus witnessed an almost
unbearable level of pain on both her and Sirius’ faces as they exchanged a look: the look of two
people who’d both hoped for something better for someone they cared for, two people who’d both
been disappointed, both been betrayed. Sirius’ fists clenched, his knuckles going white, and Remus
ached to take his hand in his, but he didn’t. Despite the previous night, the shutters had closed over
Sirius’ eyes again, and Remus couldn’t reach him while he dealt with this. He wondered if he’d
ever cross that barrier.
 1978: The Coward
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

“If we just go—”

“No, he’s going to fucking hear—”

“And whose fault—?”

“Well, if you would just—”

“Everyone, shut up!” Lily hissed. All four Marauders obeyed her, falling silent at once. Remus,
Sirius, James, Peter, and Lily were all crammed into a broom closet, and as they fell silent, they
could hear Filch’s footsteps walking past their hiding spot.

It was the last week of term, their N.E.W.T.s were blissfully over after months of arduous studying,
and the Marauders had decided that they’d use the rest of their time in the castle to plan and carry
out as many pranks as they were physically able to. Very surprisingly, Lily had been rather keen on
the idea when they’d mentioned it to her, and since then, she’d been aiding and abetting them
along the way. Mostly, this involved planning, but today, she’d decided to enter into the thick of
the action. Unfortunately, this particular scheme hadn’t gone exactly as planned.

The blame for this, Peter had decided, rested squarely on Sirius’ shoulders, as the other boy had
been in charge of checking the map, but had forgotten to do so regularly, and therefore didn’t warn
them in time when Filch was approaching. Of course, the high-pitched shriek that James had let out
when Peter accidentally dropped one of the animatronic dolls they’d been using for the prank on
his foot hadn’t helped the situation.

“How in the world have you all managed to ever do this sort of thing without being caught?” Lily
hissed under her breath as Peter watched Filch move further away from their hiding spot through
the keyhole of the broom cupboard door.

“It’s a mystery to me,” Remus replied wryly, also under his breath.

“Now look who’s making noise,” Sirius retorted. Peter watched Filch round the corner and sighed
in relief.

“He’s gone out of this corridor,” he said, looking back up at his friends. “Padfoot, check the map to
see if he’s far enough away for us to leave.” There was a silence, and though Peter couldn’t make
out Sirius’ expression in the darkness, he narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him.

“You do have the map, Padfoot, don’t you?” James asked, a note of suspicion in his voice.

Sirius cleared his throat nervously. “Well, the thing is—” his voice was cut off in a wince, as
clearly one of the other people in the broom closet had chosen a nonverbal means of expressing
their annoyance. Peter guessed it was probably Lily.

“Look, I thought we might get caught!” Sirius defended, his voice louder than Peter thought was
either necessary or safe. “We all heard Filch, and I panicked! But it’s safe, alright?! I put it in the
cabinet around the corner for safekeeping.”
There was a slight growling sound in the darkness, and Peter moved slightly away from Lily,
alarmed by the fact that she was capable of making such a noise.

“The cabinet around the corner? For safekeeping?” Lily demanded, her voice deadly. “Would that
be the cabinet that makes things disappear to an unknown location, Sirius?!” Her words were
spoken in a deadly stage whisper, but Peter knew that if she could’ve, she’d probably have yelled
at him.

“Uhmm,” Sirius replied, sounding uncomfortable, as if he was suddenly questioning the logic
behind his own actions, too. “Possibly?”

There was a sound of another wince behind Peter, and he knew that this time it was likely James or
Remus who’d decided to smack Sirius over the head for his idiocy. “I forgot it was a Vanishing
Cabinet!” Sirius defended. “There’s nothing we can do about it now, is there?”

“I suppose not,” Lily said. “I suppose we’ll just have to hope that Filch is far enough away by
now.” She didn’t sound thrilled by the idea, and Peter wasn’t enthusiastic either, even as he opened
the door slowly and inched out of it, the rest following behind him.

“Wormy, can you check around the corners?” James whispered, and Peter nodded, transforming
immediately into his Animagus form and scurrying over to the left corner. He scanned down it, his
rat eyes squinting to try and see the whole length of it. Once he was confident that it was empty, he
ran over to the other end of the corridor and checked the adjoining corridor there for Filch, too.
Finally, he transformed back.

“All clear,” he said. James didn’t need telling twice, and he hurried towards the corner around
which they all knew they’d find the Vanishing Cabinet. With no delay, James flung the doors open
and swore. The rest of the group crowded around him, all confirming that the map was gone. James
shut the doors of the cabinet again, then rounded on Sirius.

“You idiot!” he exclaimed. “We worked on that thing for—”

“Filch!” Remus hissed warningly, and they all fell silent, looking toward the sound of loud
footsteps on the stone floor, where the caretaker was no doubt returning to apprehend them. They
stared at each other in alarm, then all rushed towards the broom cupboard again, but in their haste,
they bumped into one another and impeded their own evasion.

“There’s no time,” James said, producing his silvery invisibility cloak from nowhere. “Everyone,
get under here!”

“There’s no way we’ll all fit!” Sirius lamented helplessly, and James shushed him.

“If we crouch down, we can,” he said. “Everyone, get behind this corner. Wormy, can you—” He
didn’t need to finish his sentence, however, as Peter transformed back into a rat and scurried toward
the corner. Once they were all huddled against the wall, James threw the cloak over them, and not
a moment too soon.

Filch had emerged in the corridor once again, now with his cat, Mrs. Norris, at his heels. He was
panting slightly, obviously having run towards the noise, trying to catch them when he’d failed
before. Scanning the empty corridor, his posture drooped slightly in disappointment. Mrs. Norris
meowed, looking straight at the corner where they were all hidden. Peter trembled. The cat looked
very intimidating from his Animagus form’s perspective.

Filch looked around, searching the corridor for any clue of who’d been making the noise. His
bulging eyes landed on the Vanishing Cabinet, and he started toward it as all the Marauders and
Lily watched, their hearts in their throats. Filch opened the doors of the cabinet carefully, and,
terribly, miraculously, reached his hand inside to pull out the worn piece of parchment that, when
unlocked, held the Marauder’s Map on it. Clearly, the map had decided to make a reappearance in
the cabinet after they’d closed it once again.

Peter could practically feel the frustrated energy of the rest of the group, all under the invisibility
cloak. He knew that if they could, they’d all be swearing their heads off at the moment, but they
kept tremblingly silent, all of their eyes fixed on Filch.

Filch examined the map slowly, turning it over in his hands, opening it and scanning down the
paper, confirming that it was empty. He let out a noise of frustration, and Peter knew that Filch,
despite all the jokes they made about him, was no fool. The caretaker must know that this was no
mere piece of parchment.

“Open, goddammit!” Filch snarled at the map, shaking it. “Show me what kind of filthy mischief
tool you are!”

“Oh, fuck,” Remus said very quietly. The others looked at him, and he grimaced at them. “He’ll
have activated the defense mechanism.”

“The what?” Lily whispered, bewildered, but none of the other boys answered her, just turned
towards Filch, filled with horror, as he squinted down at the words that were no doubt scrawling
themselves across it at this very moment. As they watched, Filch’s expression grew more and more
affronted, and he let out a grunt of anger, his eyes bulging worse than ever. With a final offended
noise, Filch stood up straight again and looked around suspiciously. While all five of them held
their breaths, Filch turned on his heel and stalked off in the direction of his office, a stormy look on
his face.

The group was silent for a good thirty seconds, all listening to make sure Filch was really gone. As
he waited, Peter felt the reality of the loss of the map wash over him. They’d likely never see it
again. Finally, James spoke.

“Well, looks like you might get your wish, Padfoot,” he said, his tone wry. “The map will be left
for future mischief makers, after all, if they can ever get to it, that is.”

....

The Marauders mourned the loss of the map over butterbeers back in the dorm after they’d
haphazardly dumped the animatronic dolls in the middle of the entrance hall to run amok. This
hadn’t been exactly what they’d planned, but they’d decided it was good enough, with Filch still no
doubt on high alert.

All three of the other Marauders berated Sirius for his carelessness, but both James and Remus
seemed amused rather than angry about the situation, and the gathering in their dorm began to feel
more like a celebration after a while. Still, the pit in Peter’s stomach didn’t go away, and he
couldn’t laugh off the loss of the map like the others. Eventually, he left the other boys in the
dorm, going to meet Layla in the Room of Requirement as they’d planned that morning.

Peter didn’t bother to ask James for the invisibility cloak, just transformed himself into his
Animagus form as soon as he exited the common room. Of course, this made his progress much
slower than it otherwise would’ve been, but Peter had left early, so he didn’t care. On the way, he
pondered the loss of the map, which, really, was just another part of the larger change that had
come over the Marauders recently.
Peter felt as if he was losing so many parts of them as they grew closer to the end of their time at
Hogwarts: James was spending more time with Lily and less with them than ever these days, while
Sirius and Remus went off on their own more and more. Peter tried not to resent his friends for
their happiness, but at the same time, he knew that he had never abandoned the rest so much when
he and Layla had first gotten together. There were other changes, too, ones that Peter thought
perhaps only he’d noticed, like the extra meetings Peter had guessed that Remus was having with
Dumbledore, which he’d neglected to tell the rest of the boys about. Just like with the map,
however, no one seemed to care about any of the changes except for him.

When Peter reached the corridor outside the Room of Requirement, he transformed back into his
human form. He’d never told Layla about being an Animagus, despite having been with her for
more than two years at that point. It was the Marauders’ secret, after all. Of course, this hadn’t
kept Lily from finding out all of their secrets over the years. Peter pushed away the twinge of
bitterness, and when he entered the Room of Requirement, and Layla met him with a smile and a
kiss, some of his frustration left him.

That night, however, not even Layla could banish his thoughts for too long. As he lay next to her
on the bed the room had provided for them, he stared up at the ceiling, his head feeling very full.

“What’s on your mind tonight?” Layla asked after several moments in silence, studying his face.
He turned his head, his eyes scanning over her.

After two years, Peter still felt like Layla was a miracle, laying there next to him, a thin sheet
covering her creamy skin. Her long, dark hair pooled on the pillow behind her in soft waves, and
her brown eyes fixed on him trustingly. He hadn’t been able to believe it in fifth year when she’d
said yes to him asking her out. The time since then blurred together with many unbelievably happy
moments, but Peter still had to pinch himself sometimes when he woke up next to her, just to make
sure it wasn’t all a dream. He sighed, reaching over to intertwine his fingers with hers and running
a thumb over the back of her hand.

“Just...thinking about what’ll happen once we leave Hogwarts again,” he said. His statement was
vague, as he could mean many things: the job he’d recently gotten confirmation of at the Magical
Menagerie in Diagon Alley, the prospect of where he’d live, or the looming thought that
eventually, he’d have to shelve his fear and retake the Apparition Test, because what full grown
wizard couldn’t apparate? Still, he knew Layla would know what he was really thinking of.

“Hmm,” Layla hummed sympathetically. “Are you thinking about your friends? And the Order?”

Peter sighed, a cloud of worry descending upon him as she put words to the topic his mind had
been circling around for the past few hours: the biggest thing that separated him and his friends at
the moment, which they weren’t even aware of.

“I think they assume that I’ve already given my answer like they have,” he said. “They think I’ll
just go along with whatever they do, I suppose.” Bitterness crept back into his voice as he said this,
but this time, he didn’t try to push it away.

Peter remembered the day that Dumbledore had finally met with him, several days after the others.
He’d been the last on the headmaster’s list, he supposed, but he only found out why afterward,
when James had casually mentioned the fact that it’d been him to tell Dumbledore to recruit Peter.

“He mostly asked people who are in D.A.D.A. for N.E.W.T.s,” James had said. “But I told him that
he’d be a fool not to ask you to join. We’re a packaged deal, anyway, right?” He’d clapped Peter
on the back, then, grinning, as if he’d done Peter a great favor, and Peter had had to work hard to
quash the resentment flowing up inside him enough to give James a smile in return. But he did
resent it. He resented the fact that he’d been an afterthought for the Order when all his other friends
had been first choices, but somehow, even more, he resented James for asking Dumbledore to
invite him to join at all, because now he didn’t feel as if he could refuse.

“Why don’t you talk to them about it?” Layla asked, not for the first time. “You could explain to
them why you’re having a difficult time making a decision, one way or another.”

Peter sighed. “They wouldn’t understand,” he said, shaking his head. “For them, it was a simple
decision.”

“You’re worried they’ll think you’re a coward for hesitating,” Layla stated, giving him a knowing
look. She brushed her hand over his forehead, pushing his hair back, and Peter tried to relax into
her touch, even as her words brought up a wave of fear in him.

“I’m not a coward,” he said, trying for conviction in his words.

“There are worse things,” Layla said quietly, looking at him. He turned to meet her eyes and
shivered slightly at the intensity of her gaze. Layla had always had that effect on him, ever since
their first conversation.

“Like what?” Peter asked.

“Dying,” she said, her eyes intent upon his. He looked away from her again, squeezing her hand in
his as he sought to find an answer, a reassurance, anything. But if he couldn’t reassure himself,
how could he reassure her?

“What would happen to us if I decided to fight?” Peter asked instead. The question had been
nagging at him for a long time, and he didn’t look at her as he asked it.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, your family…” Peter trailed off, looking back at her and seeing her raised eyebrows. They
rarely talked about her family, as she always acted strange and brushed him off whenever he
brought them up. He knew that there were no other Greengrasses at Hogwarts currently, but Layla
had a half-brother from her father’s previous marriage who was seven years her senior and had
graduated the year before they’d entered Hogwarts. Though Peter didn’t know anything about him,
he did know that her family was a part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and assumed that she’d been
brought up with the same pureblood ideals as Sirius.

“I don’t want us to be on opposite sides of the war,” he finished, his voice small.

She shook her head. “I’m not on a side,” she said simply. “I’m just the less important child of a
second marriage. I listen to what they say to me, take what I want, and stay out of the rest.”

“But, how can you not be on a side?” Peter asked, staring at her. “I mean, what You-Know-Who is
doing...it’s not right.”

“I don’t support him,” Layla said mildly. “I think killing people is wrong, of course. But I’m not
going to risk my life one way or another, fighting a fight that isn’t mine.”

“Shouldn’t it be everyone’s?” Peter asked tentatively. Layla smiled at him. He studied her,
scanning her face and expression, trying to find the answer to how she looked so calm, trying to
find something that would be able to soothe his mind, too.

“See, this is why you’re a Gryffindor,” she said, playing with his bangs once again. “You’re braver
than me. I just hope you remember when you’re off being self-sacrificing that your life is valuable,
too, Peter.”

“No more or less than anyone else’s,” he said, though the words felt feeble even as he spoke them.
He wasn’t sure whether he believed this or not, or if he was just repeating something James or
Sirius had said.

“The thing is,” Layla said, tracing her fingertips across his palm, her voice soft, eyes trained on his
hand rather than his face. “People don’t really have to die. You’d be fighting for Muggle-borns’
ability to learn magic, not their lives, exactly.”

“What do you mean?” Peter asked, his brows furrowing, taken aback.

“Well, they were born in the Muggle community,” she said, meeting his gaze again with a shrug.
“Who’s to say they wouldn’t be perfectly happy living as Muggles?”

“But they’re magical,” Peter protested, his brow still deeply furrowed. “You can’t just make that
go away.”

“I just think there’s something to be said for wizarding traditions that can only be passed down
through a family,” Layla said, her voice still mild, as if she was just explaining a counterpoint to an
idea presented in class, rather than her position on a war. “We’re a community, a culture, and a
small one. When Muggle-borns come in, they don’t know about any of it. Wouldn’t it be kinder to
let them stay in the world they grew up in and not have to lie to the people around them? And
kinder to us to keep our culture preserved?”

“I…” Peter tried to reply, but couldn’t quite find a response. What she was saying made a kind of
sense to him, though Peter was sure his friends wouldn’t agree, and wouldn’t like her words one
bit.

“I’m just saying,” Layla continued, giving him a small, sad smile. “That I don’t want you to die for
a cause that I think is more complicated than your friends think. And I don’t think it’s fair for them
to ask you to die for it, either, since it doesn’t really affect your life.” The silence bloomed around
them as she finished speaking, expanding outwards through the room as Peter tried to take in her
words.

“Do you think that I’d die?” Peter asked after a moment. He didn’t know exactly how to counter
her other arguments, or if he should. He didn’t have answers to any of the questions she posed, and
they only brought up further questions in him. Layla leaned closer to him, burrowing into his arms.

“Anyone can die in a war,” she said simply. “No matter how brave, or talented, or how strong they
are. And I don’t want to lose you. What if it costs more than it’s worth?”

Peter was silent again as Layla looked up at him. “I love you, Peter,” she said when he didn’t break
the silence. He looked down at her, into her imploring brown eyes, and thought again about how
she was a miracle, and he was just someone who was well in over his head.

“I love you, too,” he replied softly.

....

In the end, Peter’s decision to join the Order was quiet. He had no conversations with his friends,
nor with Layla beforehand. Instead, he made his way up to Dumbledore’s office before the leaving
feast on their final night in the castle and gave the headmaster his answer. He wasn’t sure of
anything, even more confused after his conversation with Layla a few days earlier, but the decision
had come down to one thing, which Peter thought his decisions often did: fear. At that moment, he
was more afraid of losing his friends than he was of dying in the war, no matter how incredible this
seemed to him. Perhaps he was the coward of the group, but maybe he could be cowardly in a way
that was brave, too.

He did feel a bit of relief afterward, when he went down to the leaving feast with his friends and
they all ate more than they could hold and laughed themselves silly. Perhaps it was the fact that he
was no longer holding anything back from them that did it; perhaps his joining the Order really
would get rid of all the tension he’d been feeling toward the rest.

It certainly felt that way as he watched Sirius and Marlene have a chugging contest with pumpkin
juice, and Peter won a galleon off of James, as he’d bet correctly that Marlene would win. Peter
cheered along with the rest, too, when Dumbledore officially announced Gryffindor’s victory in
the House Cup that year and changed the banner to red and gold. And when the four Marauders
charmed red and gold confetti to come raining down from the ceiling, covering all the house tables,
Peter was the one to look up to the teacher’s table first and spot the slight, grudging smile on
Professor McGonagall’s face, alongside Dumbledore’s wider and more amused one. Peter grinned
in return, and he felt something warm bloom inside of him, as he knew that those smiles were for
him, too, and that they’d never stop being Marauders.

When the boys headed up to Gryffindor Tower at the end of the leaving feast, they were all in high
spirits, and said goodbye to the girls at the bottom of the stairs. Of course, they had to face the
looming prospect of packing up their dorm room once and for all to deal with, but it didn’t feel so
huge in the face of their good moods.

Sirius was last into the dorm, but just as he crossed the threshold, a great crashing sound came
from above him, and all at once, a ton of green slime was dumped onto his head. The other boys
whipped around, only to double over in laughter at the sight of Sirius, covered head to toe in the
green goo. James actually began rolling around on the ground, clutching his stomach, his mirth
looking almost painful. Sirius just stood there, blinking in bemused surprise.

Finally, he shook himself slightly, causing some of the goo to slop to the floor, though far more of
it clung to him stubbornly, unwilling to be removed that easily. Slowly, a slight, pleased smile
spread across his face.

“Padfoot, correct me if I’m wrong, but this looks an awful lot like the goo you planned to drop over
some unsuspecting victim coming into the library in third year,” Peter said, chuckling as he
observed Sirius’ attempts to rid himself of the slime. Sirius shook his head, but his grin widened
even as he did so.

“One difference,” he said. “This goo smells like lilies.” And Peter couldn’t help but laugh, just as
James and Remus were now laughing so hard they were crying, because whether or not this was an
intrusion on Lily’s part into their inner group, Peter thought he’d never get the image of Sirius
Black covered in green goo unlinked from their final, glorious night at Hogwarts.

....

The euphoria of their last night in the castle wasn’t mirrored by the next day, however, which was
bleak and rainy. Peter couldn’t find Layla before the train ride, and he sat, squashed in between
Lily and Sirius, in their familiar compartment on the Hogwarts Express. It seemed that all the
graduating Gryffindors had rebelled at the thought of spending their last trip on the train home
divided, so they’d all squeezed in. While Peter used to find this fun, he now found it slightly
wearing, and spent the train ride home thinking of his girlfriend, and how he needed to tell her of
his decision to join the Order.
 Only when the train pulled into King’s Cross Station and all the students began to climb down
from it did Peter finally spot Layla’s dark-haired head in the crowd. When he made his way over to
her, she was saying goodbye to her friends, all of whom gave Peter dirty looks when he asked for a
moment alone with her. Quickly, mindful of the rain that was falling on both of their heads, he told
her of going to see Dumbledore the previous day, and of his decision to join the Order after all.
When he finished speaking, Layla simply stared at him, her expression full of a dismay that made
Peter wish that he hadn’t opened his mouth at all. There was a long silence, but he didn’t break it,
just looked at her. Slowly, she swallowed, her eyes leaving his and going out toward the platform
around them, though she didn’t really seem to be seeing it.

“I suppose I always knew it would come to this,” Layla said, her voice sounding very far away. “I
suppose I always knew you’d choose your friends over me, in the end. I’ve given this moment a lot
of thought, truth be told.”

“Choose them over you?” Peter asked, dismayed. “Layla, no, that’s not what—”

“Peter,” Layla said softly, looking back at him. “I love you, you know that, right?”

“Of course I do. I love you, too,” Peter said, his eyes searching her face desperately, trying to
figure out where he’d gone wrong and how he could prevent the bomb that he could feel speeding
towards him at this moment. “Layla, please—”

“I love you,” she interrupted him, and this time her eyes filled with tears as she said it. “But I’m not
as brave as you, Peter. I told you that I can’t bear the thought of losing you in the war. I’m not
brave enough to be the girl who waits for you to come home every night, until one night you don’t.
I’m not brave enough to grieve for you. I can’t do it.”

Peter felt winded, unable to fully process her words. For two years, she’d been by his side. “But
you’re losing me now,” Peter protested feebly, staring at her in horror and confusion.

Layla shook her head, her eyes glistening, and a few tears slipped down her cheeks. She was a
miracle, he thought, standing there, her eyes red and cheeks wet, yet still beautiful, still miraculous.
This time, though, she was walking away from him.

“Goodbye, Peter,” she said finally, and before he could call after her, she’d slipped away into the
crowd, leaving him alone. He stared at the spot where she’d disappeared: the one person that he’d
convinced himself would always be there even when everyone else seemed to be leaving him
behind. Now, she was gone, too. Perhaps she was right, Peter thought bitterly. Perhaps the war
would cost him more than it was worth.

Chapter End Notes

Damn, I confess that I love writing Peter, especially with the complexity of his villain
arc. I have a lot of sympathy for young Peter in some ways, and yet the way that he
sees the oppression of another group (Muggle-borns) as not his responsibility is truly
what makes his villain arc possible, and I have no sympathy for that. Truth be told, I’d
love for the story to go a different way for Peter, but alas, that is not the story I’m
writing now.

Also, while going back and editing I’m only just now realizing that this is 1978 and
Mrs. Norris is in the story, though she was also canonically alive in 1998…lol. I’m
making the executive decision that she’s either part Kneazle or just a slightly magical
cat, giving her an above-average lifespan.
 1978: The Beginning of the End
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

The first day of July was bright and sunny, with only a few fluffy white clouds dotting the London
skyline as Lily appeared out of thin air in an alley next to the River Thames. Once she’d regained
her balance, Lily looked around, then strode toward the street, looking up as she did so to admire
the nice weather.

Lily had gone home from the Hogwarts Express only a week before, leaving the platform for the
last time with a bittersweet feeling. Now, she’d returned to London, first to meet Mary and Alice,
then for her first ever Order of the Phoenix meeting.

Once Lily had exited the dingy alley she’d apparated into, she walked down to the riverside,
leaning over the railing and watching the boats go past. The river wasn’t clean, not by a long shot,
but it still looked clearer than her little one in Cokeworth ever had, and Lily breathed in the slightly
salty smell of the water and closed her eyes. This was her world now.

“Lily!”

Lily turned and beamed when she saw Alice Fortescue hurrying towards her, her round face split in
a smile.

“Hi, Alice!” she greeted the other girl as Alice wrapped her in a tight hug.

“I’m so glad we could meet,” Alice said, beaming at Lily as she released her. She and Alice were
almost exactly the same height and build, though Alice, with her short, dark brown hair and brown
eyes, had a less startling mixture of colors in her appearance than Lily. Still, Alice’s smile was
unmatched in its ability to brighten a room.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to really talk to you after the attack on Hogsmeade in May,” Alice said, her
face falling slightly. “I was in full Auror mode.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lily said, waving her apology away. “You were doing your job. If Mary
and Miranda hadn’t been meeting you that day, everything might have turned out much worse.”

“I’m so glad I was there,” Alice said, shuddering slightly, seemingly at the thought of the
alternative. Then, she smiled again at Lily. “I never got to congratulate you on making Head Girl,
either. When I heard the news, I couldn’t think of a better person to follow in my footsteps.”

Lily grinned, pushing her dark red hair behind her ear and thinking about her last year at Hogwarts.
“Well, it was definitely a lot of work,” she said. “But I’m so glad I got to do it, too.” She thought of
James, and her smile widened. Alice gave her a knowing grin.

“I heard about you and James, too, of course,” she said, giving Lily a conspiratorial wink. “Truth
be told, I was always rooting for you two.”

Lily laughed, then, out of the corner of her eye, saw something glint in the sun. Looking down, she
spotted the diamond ring on Alice’s finger, and her mouth fell open in surprise, grabbing at Alice’s
hand.

“Alice!” she exclaimed, gaping at the other girl, who was blushing. “Mary said Frank had been
hinting about proposing, but you shut him down!” Alice smiled sheepishly and looked down to
examine the ring on her finger, too. It wasn’t large but was beautiful in its simplicity. It suited
Alice, who Lily doubted would ever want to wear anything flashy.

“After what happened in Hogsmeade, I sort of changed my tune on the whole engagement issue,”
Alice admitted, shrugging. “I suppose there’s nothing like a Death Eater attack to put life into
perspective. And really, what was I waiting for? I’ve been in love with Frank for almost three
years. I spent a good six months pining over him before we were even together. I know he’s the
one for me. So I just sat him down one day and said, you know, if you want to marry me, I want to
marry you. And he pulled out the ring, and it was perfect.”

“That’s very romantic,” Lily said, smiling widely. “So, are you already getting hounded by your
families about planning the wedding?”

“Very much so,” Alice said, shaking her head and looking amused. “We’ve told them it’ll be
small, though, and not super elaborate. Who knows, maybe we’ll just elope and save ourselves the
trouble. Frank’s mum would probably murder him if we tried to do that, though. She keeps trying
to expand the guest list.”

Lily laughed, and at that moment, Mary ran up, out of breath. “Sorry I’m late,” she panted, her
hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath.

“Whoa, Mac,” Lily said, looking down at her friend in only slight concern, which was
overpowered by her amusement at Mary’s stance. “Where’s the fire?”

Mary straightened up, still panting, but this time, Lily could see the happy gleam in her eyes. She
shoved the paper that she’d been clutching in her hands, unseen by either Alice or Lily until that
point, at them, and the two girls moved together to read it.

“Dear Miss Macdonald,” Lily read aloud. “We are pleased to offer you a job as an Assistant
Magizoologist at the West English Hippogriff Sanctuary! Oh my god, Mary!” She looked up at her
friend, a great smile spreading across her face, and Mary beamed back at her. Lily rushed to engulf
her friend in a big hug, while Alice continued to read the letter, a wide smile on her face, too.

“Congratulations, Mary,” Alice said, stepping forward to hug Mary once Lily had finally released
her. “I assume this is what you wanted?”

“It’s my top choice,” Mary said, beaming. “I got a few other acceptances from other creature
sanctuaries a couple of days ago, but I only got this one this morning. I was so excited to finally
hear from them!”

“You’re a star. Everyone wanted you,” Lily said, grinning from ear to ear. “I suppose your
N.E.W.T. results must’ve been good. I hear the jobs we apply for often get our results before we
do.”

“Yes, they rush the grading of N.E.W.T.s over O.W.L.s, given their relevance to job applications,”
Alice said knowledgeably. “I think I got my results back just around this time last year. I suppose
your job offer hinged on getting good N.E.W.T. results, too, Lily?”

“Yes, they said it was contingent on my N.E.W.T.s being on par with my O.W.L.s,” Lily said, a
pang of anxiety going through her. “I really hope I did well.”

“Of course you did,” Mary said, giving her a smile and a one-armed hug. “Anyway, if the creature
sanctuaries have gotten my results, I’m sure the Antidote Research Center will have gotten yours,
and they haven’t contacted you about them, so that’s good news.”

Lily nodded, trying to push her anxiety to the back of her mind. If Alice remembered correctly,
she’d be getting her results very soon, anyway, and wouldn’t have to worry much longer.

“When did you hear about your Auror office acceptance, Alice?” she asked the older girl.

“I remember I got my acceptance the same day I got my N.E.W.T. results,” Alice reminisced, a
smile on her face. “So just around this time last year, again. Some of your friends are applying,
right?”

“Sirius and Marlene,” Mary replied, nodding.

“And James,” Lily added. “But he’s leaning towards being a Healer, still, if he gets into the
Trainee Healer program at St. Mungo’s.”

“I’m sure everyone will find out soon enough,” Alice said. “You heard very early, Lily.”

“I think it’s because they wanted me to start so quickly,” Lily said. “My first day of work is the
Monday after next, if you’ll believe it. Peter heard early about his job, too, and he starts at the
same time as me.”

“Merlin, they don’t give you much time to breathe, do they?” Alice said, smiling. “Dumbledore’s
got you starting right in with the Order now, too.”

“I was surprised that our first meeting was so soon after graduation,” Lily admitted. “But I suppose
I shouldn’t have been. You’ve been in it since you graduated, too, right, Alice?”

“Yes, since the very beginning,” Alice confirmed. “Frank and I, like you lot, were recruited at the
end of our seventh year. The only other person from our year in the Order is Benjy.” When Alice
noted their looks of confusion, she smiled and added: “Benjy Fenwick. He was a Ravenclaw
prefect. He kept to himself a lot, though. I’m not surprised you don’t remember him.”

“How many people are there in the Order?” Mary asked curiously. “Without all of us newly
joining, that is?”

Alice scrunched up her face for a moment, thinking. “Maybe ten to fifteen?” she said finally. “It’s
hard to tell, not everyone is at every meeting. But I’d say somewhere in that range. Or it could be
more, and they just don’t come to meetings.”

“Wow,” Mary said, looking downcast, and Lily knew that like her, Mary was slightly disappointed
by this news.

“Yeah, I know it’s not a lot,” Alice said, shrugging. “But with you all joining, hopefully we’ll be
able to start doing more.”

“What do you do, then?” Mary asked.

Alice shrugged. “All sorts, really,” she said. “So far, collecting information is a big piece. It helps
that the people in the Order have a lot of different jobs, so we have a wide range. Then, of course,
we go on missions to gather information, cast protective enchantments over places we think the
Death Eaters will target, that sort of thing.”

“And fighting? Have you fought any Death Eaters?” Mary asked tentatively. Alice hesitated, then
shook her head.
“Truth be told, the attack on Hogsmeade is the first time I’ve fought any Death Eaters,” she said.
“The attack last July was before I’d even gone to my first Order meeting. There was one in
October, too, at a Muggle club here in London, but the Aurors were able to deal with that on their
own, and being only a trainee, I wasn’t called on. I doubt you even heard about it, the Daily
Prophet covered the whole thing up.”

“We didn’t,” Mary said, looking dismayed and shaking her head. “What did they say happened?”

“They said it was a Muggle bomb,” Alice said. “No one was killed, only tortured, so it was easy
enough for them to modify memories and keep it out of the papers.”

“Jesus,” Mary intoned, shaking her head. Alice gave her a sad look.

“If I had to guess, I’d say there’ll be more of that soon,” she said. “From what Dumbledore’s told
us, there are plenty of new Death Eater recruits coming straight out of Hogwarts, just like you.
They’ll just make everything worse.”

“We know,” Lily said. She shared a glance with Mary, united in the knowledge of how that
information had been obtained, and what it’d cost the person who’d told them in the end. She
wondered if Dumbledore had told the rest of the Order about their little network of spies within
Hogwarts, but perhaps it didn’t matter now.

“Still,” Alice said, shaking off her seriousness and giving them a smile. “I find that it’s best not to
think about the war all of the time. We’ve got plenty of time to do that later, in the meeting.”

“What should we talk about, then?” Lily asked, returning her smile. Alice grinned, and spread her
arms wide, looking out towards the Thames.

“Anything!” she exclaimed. “I mean, look at us. We’ve all graduated from Hogwarts and now we
have our whole lives ahead of us. When this war is all over, we’ll still have our lives to live. What
do you want to do with them?”

It was infectious, Alice’s spirit, her confidence in a better day to come, and Mary and Lily were
successfully broken out of their darker thoughts for the time being. In the hour they had left before
they were to meet the rest of the Order, they walked along the Thames, talking and laughing,
telling one another about their dreams and plans. Lily told them of how Professor Slughorn had
promised to recommend her for the Potions Master position when he decided to retire, of her secret
wish to go back to the school where she’d grown so much.

What Lily didn’t say aloud—though it was continually on her mind as she looked out at the river—
was how James featured in every single one of her dreams for the future, too. It seemed silly to
admit, after only four or five months together, that she thought that he’d be there for the rest of her
life. Still, laughing with Alice and Mary by the river, Lily could imagine it: the world after the war,
with her friends and James by her side.

....

An hour later, and several blocks away from the Thames, the Order of the Phoenix gathered in the
sitting room of a London terraced house. As they entered, Alice whispered to Mary and Lily that
this was Caradoc Dearborn’s house, one of the older Order members, who was also a prominent
Auror in the Ministry.

“Are meetings always held here?” Lily whispered back, and Alice shook her head but didn’t have
time to respond, as Dumbledore had entered the room, and it fell silent. Dumbledore, who was
wearing a set of star-spangled robes despite the fact that they were in Muggle London, smiled
around at all of them.

“Welcome,” he said, spreading his arms wide. “To our newcomers, I welcome you and thank you
for your decision to join the Order of the Phoenix. I know that no one in this room made this
decision lightly, but your courage will always be valued here. If you look around, I’m sure you will
see some familiar faces.”

Lily did look around, her eyes first flitting over James, who she’d immediately spotted when she’d
entered the room, then moving around to the rest of her classmates. They were all there, she
noticed: all ten Gryffindors had decided to join the Order, though none of the people who’d been
invited from other houses had. Her eyes found Frank Longbottom next, standing beside a young
man with dark hair and tawny skin, who Lily knew must be Benjy Fenwick. She realized that she
did indeed have a vague memory of him from prefect meetings, now that she looked at him.

Her gaze moved on, and she noticed with a slight start of surprise that Professor McGonagall was
present, looking very strange out of her normal robes, wearing a pair of jeans and a turtleneck shirt.
McGonagall gave her a smile, which Lily returned, trying not to stare too much at the sight of her
professor wearing normal clothing. Hagrid, the gamekeeper, was also there, but Lily had spotted
him before, as it was impossible not to.

Lily thought she vaguely recognized some other members, too, such as the two men who must be
identical twins, one with shoulder-length ginger hair, the other who had his cropped closely to his
head. If Lily wasn’t very much mistaken, she thought that they’d graduated Hogwarts at the end of
her second year. Another man, who had thick, blond hair, gave her a wink, and Lily recognized
him as Sturgis Podmore, who’d graduated only three years before her. She remembered that he’d
had quite the reputation for getting around, so much so that Lily had even known about it, isolated
as she’d been in fourth year. She glanced away from him.

Lily noticed that Hestia was giving one of the men at the front of the room a cold look. Lily didn’t
recognize him, but the steely look in his dark eyes, and his position near Dumbledore, told her that
he wasn’t someone to be trifled with.

Dumbledore, Lily realized, was looking over at Hestia, too, observing the cold expression on her
face as she observed the man beside him, and his expression looked almost amused, his blue eyes
twinkling slightly. The man on Dumbledore’s other side, who had greying hair and was taller than
the man Hestia was regarding so coldly, leaned across Dumbledore to say something to the dark-
haired man, who replied gruffly.

Finally, once Dumbledore was satisfied that everyone had had sufficient time to recognize familiar
faces, he cleared his throat to continue.

“Onto business: as everyone will now know, we have been fortunate enough to recruit ten new
members for the Order of the Phoenix, straight from Hogwarts. The unfortunate caveat to this
news, of course, is that Voldemort has also been recruiting within Hogwarts during this past year.
This information was gathered, coincidentally, by many of the young witches and wizards you see
before you today. We know of at least five new Death Eaters who have joined Voldemort’s ranks
straight out of Hogwarts, as well as more that reside within its walls still. I think that it is
reasonable to believe that this new influx of supporters will mean an increase in attacks, as well as
an increase in the boldness of the Death Eaters’ tactics. We should all be on our guard.”

Dumbledore’s eyes blazed a piercing blue, and he let his gaze trail slowly over all the faces in the
room. Lily suppressed the urge to shiver as they fell upon her, but in another moment, he was
smiling again.
“Another particular asset to our side,” he continued. “Is that we now have an Order member who is
able to gather information for us from a source we have never before had access to. Our older
members will know that we have spoken at length in the past about the involvement of the
werewolves on Voldemort’s side, and of the futility and danger of reaching out to them. Now,
however, we have someone who can.”

Lily glanced over at Remus, startled, and found that his friends were all giving him similarly
alarmed looks. Remus, however, was looking straight ahead at Dumbledore, ignoring their gazes.
Dumbledore extended his hand to gesture to him, smiling. “Remus Lupin has bravely offered to be
our undercover agent with the werewolves, both to gather information and to try and persuade
some individuals to come to our side. I am hopeful that if we can convince some of them that we
will fight for them and that they will not receive what they have been promised by Voldemort, this
will help turn the tide of the war.”

There was a slightly discomforted silence, where many Order members looked around at one
another, confused, none of them wanting to ask the question that was clearly on many of their
minds. Remus was still not meeting anyone’s gaze, despite the fact that Sirius had now narrowed
his eyes at him, glaring fixedly at his boyfriend’s profile, and James had a look of bewildered
concern on his own face. Peter’s expression was unreadable, but he, too, gazed at Remus, his eyes
thoughtful. Clearly, Lily thought, Remus hadn’t disclosed either his decision to allow Dumbledore
to tell the Order that he was a werewolf, or his decision to volunteer for such a dangerous
undercover operation.

Predictably, it was Marlene who finally broke the uncomfortable silence in the room. “Why him?”
she asked, looking both bewildered and slightly angry, which Lily knew must be her way of
showing concern for the fact that Remus was being assigned such a dangerous mission right out of
school. “If you all haven’t been able to send anyone to spy on the werewolves before, why would
you send Remus now? You said yourself that everything is only getting more dangerous these
days, not safer.”

Dumbledore didn’t look surprised, and he only gave her a slight, understanding smile. “Remus is
able to go to spy on the werewolves, Marlene, because he is a werewolf himself,” he said, his
words gentle but deliberate, clearly knowing the impact they’d have on the room. Marlene’s eyes
widened, and she opened her mouth again, but Dumbledore forestalled her. “Werewolves,
especially the ones who follow Voldemort, will be much more likely to trust Remus, who is one of
them, than a mere wizard or witch, who they may immediately despise.”

Silence fell through the room, and Marlene shrunk back, clearly having no further protest. Her
mouth was still slightly open, and now, instead of looking at Dumbledore, she was gazing at
Remus, her eyes wide. She wasn’t the only one, as almost everyone’s eyes in the room were on him
now. Still, not all of the members of the Order looked surprised. Many, Lily guessed, must have
realized why Remus could go to speak with the werewolves when Dumbledore first brought the
subject up, and some of the older Order members had the decency not to stare. The dark-haired
man next to Dumbledore looked completely unfazed, his expression still stonily neutral, while the
taller man on Dumbledore’s other side raised his eyebrows in a brief moment of surprise before
carefully restoring his features to a friendly, neutral expression. No, it was the younger members
who looked the most shocked, especially the rest of the people in their year.

Dorcas was staring at Remus too, her expression less obviously startled than Marlene’s was, but
her brown eyes were wider than usual even as she tried to modulate her surprise. Mary’s mouth had
fallen open from beside Lily, and she was blinking at Remus in shock. Emmeline, who rarely
showed much emotion on her face, had her eyebrows raised, a crease between her brows, as if she
was trying to put the pieces together in her mind. Hestia, on the other hand, looked completely
calm, and was staring at Dumbledore instead of at Remus. There was a slight crease on her
forehead, and the angry expression that Marlene had worn earlier now resided on her face, as if
she, too, was angry at the prospect of Remus being given such a dangerous mission, no matter if he
was a werewolf or not. Lily recalled Hestia’s words, many months ago, when she’d revealed that
she’d already known about Marlene and Dorcas for years: “I don’t make a habit of telling other
people’s secrets.” She must’ve guessed about Remus’ lycanthropy long ago, just like Lily had, but
always kept it to herself.

“If there are no further comments on this subject, we shall move on,” Dumbledore said, breaking
the oppressive silence and making all the Order members who’d been staring at Remus turn back
to the front of the room. Lily saw that Remus’ fists were clenched, resting on his knees, and he was
still avoiding Sirius’ gaze. As she watched, Sirius reached over slowly to rest one of his hands on
top of one of Remus’ tight fists, and, undercover of everyone’s attention being fixed upon
Dumbledore, Remus glanced next to him to meet his boyfriend’s gaze quickly. Sirius’ gaze was
still scolding, Lily thought, filled with disbelief about the fact that Remus had kept his plans a
secret from all of them, but nevertheless, Sirius eased Remus’ fist open and intertwined his fingers
with Remus’—a comforting gesture. Lily looked to James, next to them, and found that his eyes
had drifted to her, too. She gave him a small smile, then diverted her attention back to Dumbledore.

....

After the Order meeting had dispersed, Remus had left quickly, clearly reluctant to discuss
Dumbledore’s revelation or his plans to go undercover with anyone right away. Still, Lily had
heard through James that the boys had managed to corner him the following day, and that Marlene
and Dorcas had forced their own company on him a day later, Marlene assuring him that she was
far less fazed by this discovery than when she’d found out that James supported Puddlemere
United.

“Now, there’s a reason to stop being someone’s friend!” Marlene had said according to James,
shooting him an amused glance.

On Thursday, when Lily returned to London to help Dorcas move her things into her and
Marlene’s new flat—a tiny one-bedroom in Muggle London near the entrance to Diagon Alley—
Dorcas admitted that she’d been thrown by the news, but thought that perhaps she shouldn’t have
been.

“The boys were always so secretive about where they went and what they did at the best of times,”
she told Lily as she waved her wand and caused a box full of her clothes to fly open, the garments
beginning to hang themselves up in the closet. “I suppose I just figured I’d give myself a headache
trying to figure out what was going on with them. It makes sense now, in hindsight.”

“James told you about all of it, then?” Lily asked her, sitting on a closed box, thoroughly tired out
from the day’s work so far. Marlene was over at Dorcas’ family home at the moment, picking up a
few more of Dorcas’ boxes from her room. Marlene had started moving before Dorcas, so she’d
already unpacked all her things, though Lily guessed that part of the reason behind her speedy
move was that she had far less stuff than Dorcas did, to begin with.

“Oh, yes,” Dorcas said, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “We got the whole story. I still
can’t believe that none of the professors found out about what they were doing. I can’t believe I
didn’t know.”

“It is a bit unbelievable,” Lily agreed. “Even I wouldn’t have guessed about the Animagi part, and
I made it my business to nose into theirs.”
“It clarified some things, too,” Dorcas said, looking up at Lily surreptitiously, “about what
happened with them in fifth.”

Lily nodded, her heart sinking as she thought back to that dark year, and to Severus. “I forgot you
never knew the details of what happened then.”

“It was just another thing I didn’t pry about, back then,” Dorcas said, sighing. “Though now, I
almost wish I had. I mean...I knew that Sirius had betrayed them in some type of way, but I never
imagined—” She broke off and shook her head, a slight, angry crease forming between her brows.
Glancing up at Lily, she gave a slight shrug. “I know it was years ago, and all’s forgiven now, but
when I heard the truth about it...Merlin, I could’ve killed Sirius. I’m not sure if I could’ve ever
forgiven him for that if I was Remus.”

Lily nodded, giving her a sad smile. “I was one of the only people who spoke to Sirius after it
happened, you know,” she said after a moment’s pause. “I tore him up about it, really, but I think it
was also the moment when I stopped hating him. Maybe it was just seeing him hate himself so
much, then, that made it impossible to see him the same way. He thought he’d lose Remus forever
because of what he did.”

“Yeah,” Dorcas said, nodding, her expression contemplative. “He looked properly ashamed while
James was explaining it, that’s for sure. Marlene gave him a good smack over the head for it, too,
and I think that made both of us feel better.” Lily laughed, and was about to open her mouth to tell
Dorcas that she, too, had hit Sirius when she’d found out about the incident, but at that moment,
Marlene ran in, her face flushed with excitement.

“Dee!” she exclaimed, her face spread wide in a grin. She shoved a still-sealed letter forward
towards Dorcas, and Dorcas took it, perplexed. Then, her eyes widened.

“It’s from St. Mungo’s,” she said, her voice very soft, looking up at both Marlene and Lily. The
letter must’ve been delivered to Dorcas’ home, which was why Marlene had been able to retrieve
it.

“Well, open it!” Lily exclaimed, her face breaking into a wide smile, just like Marlene’s. Marlene
nodded insistently, and Dorcas, her hands shaking, broke the seal and opened the letter. Her eyes
took a few seconds to focus on the words before her, it seemed, then they slid down the page, her
mouth falling open. There were a few moments when she said nothing, then she looked up at Lily
and Marlene again, her eyes wide and shocked.

“I—I got in,” she said. Her words hung for a moment in the silent room, then Marlene began to
bounce up and down, whooping, and Lily rushed forward to wrap Dorcas in a hug. Marlene
wrapping her arms around both of them. When Lily finally extricated herself, Marlene pulled
Dorcas into a slightly sloppy, excited kiss, and Lily beamed in the background.

“Of course you got in!” Marlene exclaimed once they parted, beaming down at her girlfriend, who
looked slightly dazed. “They’d be fools not to accept you!”

“What about James and Hestia?” Dorcas asked, looking over Marlene’s shoulder to Lily. “Did
James say anything—”

As if on cue, a series of enthusiastic knocks came from the direction of the front door, and they all
raced into the sitting room to answer it. Marlene reached the front door first and threw it open.
James stood on the threshold, a letter in his hand, an absolutely ecstatic look on his face as he
looked frantically from Lily to Marlene before his gaze finally rested on Dorcas, who was still
clutching her own letter in her hand.
“Did you—?” James demanded, and Dorcas nodded, a wide smile finally spreading across her face
as she looked back at him.

“I did,” she said. “Did you?”

“I got in!” James exclaimed, rushing over the threshold to throw his arms around her, lifting her up
into the air and spinning her around. Lily laughed as he set Dorcas back down on the ground and
turned almost frantically to Lily, sweeping her off her feet as well. She didn’t even let out a sound
of surprise as he lifted her, as she’d become so used to his large, sweeping hugs in the past months.

“You did it,” she said into his hair, and he set her back on the ground, then pulled back to press a
kiss to her lips.

“We did it,” he said, pulling back from her and beaming at Dorcas. “What about Tia, have you
heard from her?”

“Not yet,” Dorcas replied. “I’m sure she’ll owl once she gets her news and is finished celebrating.
She’s over at your new place, right, unpacking with Em?” she asked, turning to Lily. Lily nodded.

“Yes, they’re both starting today,” Lily replied. “We figured it might help to stagger our move-in
process a bit, so there aren’t boxes all over the place all at the same time. Mary and I are going to
bring our stuff starting tomorrow.”

Lily had been extremely grateful when she, Hestia, Emmeline, and Mary had hatched the plan to
live together at the end of their seventh year at Hogwarts. Sure, living in London meant that they
had to double up in their rooms to afford rent, but they’d all been sleeping in the same room for
years, anyway. Nevertheless, it was a comfort to know that the girls would still be there whenever
she needed them, graduated or not.

“I can help tomorrow,” Dorcas offered, looking around. “You’ve helped me enough with all of my
stuff for our place. Now that the boxes are all here it’ll be simple to unpack them all using magic.
It’ll give me time to catch up with Tia, too, to see if she’s got her job offer.”

“Sure, that would be great,” Lily said, smiling. “I’ve already roped James into helping, but the
more the merrier.”

“I’m sorry I can’t help, too,” Marlene said, making a face. “Tyler is insisting that I show him our
flat tomorrow, and take him around London.”

“That was your idea,” Dorcas corrected, grinning knowingly at her girlfriend.

“Well, Pete and I have already got our place all set up, so it’s not like there’s anything else I’d be
doing,” James said, grinning and putting his arm around Lily.

James and Peter had moved in only a few blocks from Dorcas and Marlene, very close to the
entrance to Diagon Alley. Peter, James had told Lily, had wanted to find somewhere outside of
London to live but ended up relenting, as he didn’t want to apparate to work. He’d gotten his
license only a week before, James said, but while he now could apparate, he didn’t like to.

“It’s because of what happened to his dad,” James had told her in confidence. “Pete was only
seven when he died in a splinching accident.” So he’d reluctantly allowed James to pay more than
his share of the rent, instead, and they never spoke about why Peter needed to live so close to his
job. Whenever James told Lily things like this, always with a casual tone, as if there was nothing
unusual or generous about his actions, she couldn’t help but fall more and more for him. How in
the world had she ever thought that James was self-centered?
“Have you heard back from the Auror office, Marley?” James asked, breaking Lily from her
reverie. Marlene shook her head, shrugging.

“Not yet,” she said. “Have you or Sirius?”

“Nope,” James replied, shaking his head. “I just left him and Remus, actually. I was helping them
move in when I got the news. My letter got sent to my parents’ house, so my dad flooed over to
give me the letter!”

“Remus relented, then?” Marlene asked, a knowing smile on her face. They all knew that Remus
had been dragging his heels about moving into Sirius’ uncle’s flat with him for a long while,
insisting that he didn’t want to be a burden and could find his own place. James laughed.

“Yeah, finally,” he said. “Sirius managed to get through to him eventually that he wanted Remus to
live with him because they’re dating, not because he’s offering charity.” He rolled his eyes,
exasperated affection all over his face. “Remus hasn’t stopped offering to pay rent, though. We’re
working on that now.”

“Why don’t you bring them over tomorrow?” Lily asked, getting a brainwave. “Peter, too. It
doesn’t have to be to help unpack, they can come later. It might be nice to have everyone together
again.”

Marlene glanced over at Dorcas, who smiled, and James grinned at the suggestion, too. “That
sounds great,” he said. “I’ll ask them all if they’re free. They should be, not sure what else they’d
be doing.”

“Have you got any more information out of Remus about the undercover mission Dumbledore will
be sending him on?” Marlene asked, her eyebrows raised. James shrugged.

“Not much,” he said. “Honestly, I don’t think he knows much more than we do about it, though.
But it’s entirely possible that we won’t know he’s going until he’s gone.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Dorcas said, frowning. “He’d say goodbye first, I’m sure.”

“I don’t know,” James said, shrugging and frowning slightly, too. “Remus is like that sometimes.
Now, though, I think he’d probably let Sirius know before he takes off anywhere. I hope he would,
at least.”

“Well, tell him he’s not allowed to take off to go anywhere before tomorrow night,” Lily
commanded James. “We need to show him that everyone’s still here for him, at the very least, no
matter what happened on Saturday.”

James grinned and nodded, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her lips. “I will,” he said.
Standing up straight again, he grinned around at all of them and saluted them. “Well, I should get
back to help Remus and Sirius. I doubt anything’s getting done over there while I’m gone.”

“Make sure to knock before you go in!” Marlene shot after James, smirking, and he smiled before
closing the door behind him.

“Don’t worry, I will!”

....

The following day, Lily arrived outside her new flat on Queen Anne’s Gate Road, London. The
girls had found a surprisingly nice place within their budget, given that it’d be split four ways, just
around the corner from the Muggle Prime Minister’s office, and right next to St. James’ Park and
Buckingham Palace. Lily, for her part, had a sneaking suspicion that a Confundus Charm had been
cast somewhere along the way, both to lower the rent and to get the landlord to accept the
application of four seventeen and eighteen-year-old girls with no proof of Muggle employment or
income. Still, Lily wasn’t overly opposed to the thought. The man who owned the building—with
his stuffy, upper-class accent and air of superiority—irked her, and she was sure he didn’t need the
extra few hundred dollars from them anyway.

Moments later, Mary appeared by her side, and together, the two girls entered their new home.
Their excitement about their new flat wasn’t dulled even by the hours of moving boxes up and
down the stairs, of transfiguring furniture, and of bickering good-naturedly over what color they
should charm the walls of their room. James was there, too, doing a lot of the transfiguration
wandwork—as neither girl had ever quite excelled at Transfiguration as much as he had—and
hanging up all the things that they’d have had to climb onto chairs to get high enough fasten to the
walls.

Dorcas sped up the process considerably when she arrived in the afternoon, as she was extremely
adept at household spells, and unpacked all the boxes magically with much more efficiency than
any of the rest had managed. Once things were considerably less cluttered, Lily finally felt
comfortable bringing Callie there, and the cat immediately began to explore, eyes wide and body
low to the ground as she inspected their new abode. Emmeline and Hestia finally turned up around
dinnertime, arriving only a few minutes prior to the other boys and Marlene.

“Tia, you got in!” Lily exclaimed as soon as they entered, running to hug Hestia. Hestia laughed.

“I did! I got in,” she confirmed. “I suppose Dorcas told you?”

“She did,” Lily confirmed, releasing Hestia and allowing James to pull her into a hug, too. “You
know this means we’ll all be working in the same building?”

“It’ll be great,” Dorcas said, beaming as she rushed to embrace Hestia after James. “I’m so glad
you both got in, too. I didn’t want to be without the both of you.”

“Did you find out about Oxford, Emmeline?” Lily asked Emmeline, who’d entered after Hestia.
Emmeline grinned.

“Just today, actually,” she said. “They gave me an assistant researcher job.”

“Oh, that’s amazing!” Mary said, smiling and hugging her, too. “Congratulations, both of you!”

“Everything’s falling into place, all of a sudden,” Emmeline said, smiling and removing her jacket,
draping it over a chair. “Now, I finally feel like I’m starting my life after Hogwarts.”

Another knock sounded on the door, and Emmeline turned to answer it, as she was the nearest. In
walked Peter, Sirius, and Remus, followed by a smiling Marlene, and all looked around, taking in
the flat.

“Nice place,” Peter commented, looking a little less cheerful than usual, though his words seemed
genuine. She wondered what might be bothering him, but didn’t have time to dwell on it.

“Guess what?” Marlene asked, a wide grin spreading across her face, throwing her arm around
Sirius’ shoulder in a conspiratorial manner.

Dorcas narrowed her eyes at her girlfriend suspiciously. “Did you hear back about the Auror
office?” she asked cautiously. Marlene didn’t answer, but her grin widened, and Dorcas’ face broke
into a brilliant smile.

“I knew you could do it!” Dorcas exclaimed, rushing across the room towards Marlene, linking her
arms around her neck, and pulling her down for a kiss.

“Do I get a kiss, too?” Sirius quipped, grinning at Dorcas, and Marlene elbowed him in the ribs,
rolling her eyes.

“Here’s your kiss,” Remus said, turning to Sirius and pulling him forward into a kiss that surprised
them all, given that the two boys were generally less free with affection around others than the girls
were. Dorcas let out a slight giggle, while Marlene wolf-whistled. Sirius, once released, had a
rather dazed expression on his face, replacing the arrogant one from just a second earlier. Remus,
though his cheeks were slightly pink, looked pleased with himself. Then, he looked around, and an
anxious look crossed his face. He raised his hand to his hair, a very James-like nervous gesture,
Lily thought, then dropped it to his side.

“Oh, come here, Remus,” Hestia said unexpectedly. When Lily turned to look at her, she saw that
Hestia was smiling, and she moved toward Remus, her arms extended up to him. Hesitantly,
Remus moved forward and found himself pulled down into Hestia’s strong embrace. A grin
flickered onto his face, chin resting on her shoulder. Mary, smiling, moved to add to the embrace,
hugging Remus from the side, too. He made a small sound of surprise in his throat but accepted
Mary’s gesture. Emmeline added to their hug, and then everyone was crowding in on Remus, and
he was laughing.

“Alright, alright,” he said finally, after the multi-armed hug with him at the center lasted for more
than thirty seconds. “Let me go.”

“Just don’t expect us to go too far,” Mary said as she released Remus, grinning up at him.

Remus blinked down at her, a half-smile twitching on his face. Lily smiled, remembering as she
observed them how they’d spent time studying in the Hogwarts library together, even back in first
year. Back then, Lily had been distant from all the other Gryffindors, and so in the first five years
of their schooling, Remus and Mary had been closer than Lily had been with either before her sixth
year. She knew, therefore, that Mary’s acceptance would mean as much to Remus as hers had.

“Seriously,” Hestia said, moving to sit down on one of the squashy sitting room armchairs that
James had successfully conjured that afternoon. “Full disclosure, Remus: I’ve known since first
year, but I’ve never cared one bit. None of us are going anywhere.”

“Well, I’ve only known since you told us last week,” Mary said, shooting an amused look at Hestia
before looking back at Remus. “But it took me about five seconds to process and accept. And four
of those were spent wondering if I’d heard Dumbledore right.”

Remus grinned, and Lily thought she saw a slight flush on his face as he settled himself down on
the couch, next to Peter, with Sirius perched on the arm. “Thank you all,” he said. “I’m relieved,
really, and so glad that you’re all fine with it.”

“Of course, Moony,” Emmeline replied, a slight half-smile on her face. Remus’ face broke into a
wide grin, and Lily gazed around at them in affection, all settled on chairs or on the floor of the
girls’ new sitting room. Callie leapt onto her lap and curled up, nudging Lily’s hand with her nose
to indicate that she should pet her.

“I love you all,” Lily said fondly, stroking the cat’s soft fur absentmindedly. Everyone looked up at
her, surprised and amused by her sudden proclamation, and she blushed a little as they did, but only
 shrugged and smiled. “Well, I do. We—all of us—we’re like a family.”

James nudged her with his elbow, and she looked up at him, only to find him grinning down at her,
his hazel eyes affectionate. “We are a family,” he said. Lily smiled and looked around at her
friends. She was glad they were doing all of this together.

....

Lily was woken in the early hours of the next morning by the heat of the phoenix charm she now
wore on her wrist, to communicate with the Order. For a few moments, Lily groggily contemplated
going back to sleep, until her brain fully woke up and realized what this must mean. She sat
straight up in bed and switched on her light, raising her wrist to examine the message etched in tiny
lettering into the back of the phoenix. It read: DE attack. All respond ASAP. 51.0246, -3.125.

Scrambling out of bed, Lily rushed across the room to prod Mary awake, ignoring her friend’s
murmured protests. “Get dressed, Mac, it’s a Death Eater attack!” she said, prodding her once
again as she pulled on a pair of trousers, then pulled a shirt over her head, grabbing her wand from
her bedside table.

Mary didn’t need telling twice and leapt out of bed just as Lily had, swearing, as Lily pulled her
long hair into a ponytail at the same time as she rushed down the hall to wrap on Emmeline and
Hestia’s door. From the sounds of scuffling inside, she knew that they’d already been woken by the
message.

“We’re coming!” Hestia’s frantic voice replied, so Lily hurried towards the door, grabbing her coat
and pulling it on while shoving her feet into her shoes.

Moments later, Mary rushed out, looking rumpled but with her eyes wide, the set of her mouth
determined. Emmeline and Hestia rushed after her, and all four girls exited the flat together. The
hallway was empty, given that it was only half past two in the morning, and after giving a cursory
look around, all four girls turned on the spot into darkness. Lily strained to focus on the
coordinates she’d read off the charm, never having used them for apparition before, and after a
moment, the compressing feeling ebbed and she blinked open her eyes.

In front of her lay a sight that she knew she’d never forget as long as she lived: a train car set
aflame, smoke billowing from it, obscuring the night sky above. As she looked on in horror, one of
the car windows flashed with green light, and Lily, galvanized into motion, ran towards it, straight
into the flames.

END OF PART I

Chapter End Notes

Jesus fucking Christ this is getting long. Wow. More to go, still! Miles to go before I
sleep :)

Don’t worry, there won’t be a break between Part I and the beginning of Part II, and
part II is in this same WIP, not a different one. I know I could make this a series and
have them be different fics, but I just didn’t want to. I just like the idea of parts, to be
honest, and it makes sense logically, as there will be a time jump between each part.

I should also note that if you’d like to imagine a world in which there was a happy
ending for all these characters, this might be a good place to stop. You’re a Marauders
fan, so you know what comes next in this timeline, unfortunately. Part II will get
pretty dark.
 Part II - 1979: Werewolves of London
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

One Year Later

The smell of mold was always the first thing that hit Remus when he entered the broken-down
house on Coleridge Road. Whenever he stayed for longer periods, he always acclimated to the
smell—along with the grime, drafts, and termites that also came with the house—but each time he
came back, it hit him once again. As the door swung shut behind Remus, he looked around, taking
in the dark hallway. A creak of floorboards alerted him to the presence of someone else nearby,
and when he looked, he could make out the slight, familiar figure.

“Hello, Alaric,” Remus said, giving the younger boy a nod. “How are you?”

The boy snorted, his face cast in shadows as Remus peered at him, slightly warily. “Jus’ dandy,”
he replied. “Didn’t think you’d come back again, not after last time, I’ll admit. Got tired of your
fancy friends, did you? Came back to slum it with us?”

“I didn’t want to stay away for so long,” Remus replied, looking steadily into Alaric’s shadowed
face. “But my mam’s ill. I’ve been taking care of her.” It was strange, Remus thought, after all the
years of saying that his mam was ill to hide the secret of his transformations, that now it was the
truth, which he was telling to another werewolf to excuse his absence from the rest of them.

Alaric didn’t dignify his words with a reply, only gave another noncommittal snort. At this, Remus
had to suppress a smile. In the year since he’d started coming to this old, abandoned house, where
many werewolves lived, he’d grown fond of few of them, but Alaric was one of the few. In some
ways, Remus thought that the younger boy reminded him a bit of a teenage Sirius: he was full of
anger and prone to lash out at people, as he’d done to Remus the last time Remus had been there.
Still, Remus wasn’t much fazed by Alaric’s outbursts anymore, especially compared to all the
other things he’d seen in the past year. Alaric, like Sirius, had run away from his family home at
sixteen, after he’d been bitten, and eventually found his way to the house on Coleridge Road.
Remus had never managed to get the whole story of what had happened, but the dark look on
Alaric’s face whenever it was mentioned was enough to tell him that it was best not to press the
subject.

“Is anyone else here?” Remus asked, glancing around. Though the summer air outside was warm,
it was cool inside the house, as many of the windows had been boarded up, only small shafts of
light peeking in at intervals, illuminating the dust on the floor.

“Nah,” Alaric replied. “El went to get food, and Jade…well, she’s not ‘ere anymore. The rest come
and go, you know how it is.” There was a bitter note to his voice, and Remus couldn’t help but
wonder why Jade had left. The last time Remus had been there, she and Alaric had been together,
but it’d been unstable, just as everything in this house was.

“Come outside,” Alaric said abruptly. “You can tell me what you’ve been off doing.” As Alaric
turned, the floorboards groaned under his feet again, his limping gate harsh upon the old wood.
Remus knew better than to offer to help him anywhere and followed slowly in his wake.
They exited the house together, Alaric leading Remus into the run-down garden. Weeds grew tall
up through the cracks in the stone path, overwhelming the flowerbeds with their green tendrils.
Alaric dragged himself to sit in a rickety old chair, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it deftly with a
lighter. Remus knew that Alaric had a wand, but he’d seen him use it only once. Before he’d turned
seventeen, Remus had assumed this was because Alaric didn’t want to alert the Ministry of the
werewolves’ presence in London. Now, Remus guessed that Alaric didn’t use magic because it was
a sharp reminder of everything that he’d lost when he’d been bitten.

Alaric didn’t offer a cigarette to Remus, but Remus hadn’t expected him to. Somehow, although
Remus often left to give Alaric space after Alaric had verbally or physically attacked him, Alaric
always acted as though it was Remus who had to apologize when he returned. Remus always did,
too, because there was no point in arguing otherwise.

“Your hair’s longer,” Alaric commented, his brown eyes raking over Remus’ appearance critically.

“Yeah, I suppose,” Remus replied, resisting the urge to put his hand to the nape of his neck self-
consciously. “It’s been a month, after all.”

“That long?” Alaric asked, and Remus knew that he was trying to seem less attached, as he always
did. “Hadn’t noticed.”

“When did Jade leave, then?” Remus asked after a moment of silence. Alaric’s eyes darkened and
he took another long drag from his cigarette.

“Not long after you,” he replied, looking away towards the house again. “Suppose she’d had
enough of me, too.”

“I didn’t leave because I’d had enough of you,” Remus said, trying to keep a note of exasperation
out of his voice. “I wanted to give you space is all, and I told you, my mam’s ill. I was always
going to come back.”

Alaric gave a non-committal grunt at the words but didn’t respond immediately, taking another
drag from his cigarette. “I suppose you’re back to tell me more about this Dumbledore character,”
he said after a moment. “Here to say that I could have a great life one day if I just gave myself a
chance?”

“I’m here because I want to be here,” Remus said, the words familiar in his mouth after being
repeated so many times to the younger boy. At first, it hadn’t been true, Remus could admit that to
himself. He’d hated being in the dirty house, hated being around the other werewolves, most of
whom hated having him around just as much. But over the course of the year, Remus’ feelings
about the whole endeavor had changed. His affection and protectiveness for Alaric, along with
some of the other younger werewolves, had grown, and he’d found himself wanting to return.

“That’s it,” Remus continued, shrugging. “And the fact that I’ve still been coming back after a year
of you telling me to fuck off should’ve convinced you by now that I’m not going to leave if you
don’t agree with me.”

“You’re right stubborn that way,” Alaric replied, a slight half-smile playing over his face. “Though
I think if I had some posh boyfriend with an inheritance to live with, I wouldn’t come over ‘ere
nearly as much as you do.”

Remus rolled his eyes, sighing and leaning back in his chair to regard Alaric with a wry look.
Alaric always liked to make fun of Remus for what he called his “charmed” life, and his favorite
target was Sirius. Remus hadn’t told Alaric much about Sirius or his other friends; it’d been Alaric
who’d asked him about them. Even then, Remus had been cautious, not telling Alaric about what
he and Sirius were to each other, but Alaric had figured it out on his own. Remus suspected that he
might’ve seen Sirius pick Remus up one night eight months prior, on the back of the motorbike
Sirius had bought himself after Hogwarts, and seen the kiss they’d shared. It’d been dark that night,
and Remus hadn’t thought that he was being observed at the time, but the comments had started
when he’d returned the next week.

At first, Remus had thought that Alaric’s jibes were born out of ignorance and disgust for their
relationship, but he soon realized that Alaric didn’t actually care that Remus was gay, he just liked
finding buttons to push. Perhaps what had made him realize this was the way that Alaric never
brought Sirius up when he was in one of his real rages, or the way he’d always send Remus a
furtive glance whenever he mentioned his boyfriend, as if he was hoping not just for a reaction but
for information.

“He told me to tell you hello,” Remus said, barely concealing his smirk as he glanced over at
Alaric. Alaric gave him a suspicious look in return, as if he thought that Remus must be pulling his
leg, and Remus grinned.

It was actually true that Sirius had told Remus to say hello to Alaric for him as Remus had been
leaving; Remus referenced the younger werewolf so much to Sirius that it almost felt like Sirius
had met him himself, which he hadn’t. Remus didn’t add, however, that Sirius had followed this
light-hearted comment with a warning to be careful and not get too comfortable with Alaric, lest he
explode again.

“Well, he could tell me hello ‘imself sometime, if he ever deigns to come to this dung heap,”
Alaric retorted, after a moment of trying to gauge from Remus’ expression if he was serious.
Remus raised his eyebrows, surprised.

“I didn’t think he’d be welcome,” he said mildly, forcing his face back into a neutral expression.
Alaric, seemingly against his will, had been making progress over the course of the time that
Remus had known him. When Remus had met him, he’d just been an angry sixteen-year-old,
refusing the opportunity to return to Hogwarts and attacking anyone who asked about what had
happened with his parents. Despite only having been a werewolf for a few months, he’d already
been thoroughly indoctrinated into the view that wizards were the enemy, and had said as much
every time Remus had initially tried to change his mind. Over the past year, however, he’d grown
less opinionated about the subject, and slowly, Remus had seen him begin to shift in the other
direction. Still, Remus had never thought that Alaric might actually go as far as to invite a wizard
into his home.

“Depends who’s ‘ere at the time,” Alaric said, shrugging. He gave Remus a long, considering look.
“The ones he’d be most in danger with jus’ left.”

Remus narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Alaric shrugged again, looking away across the tall weeds toward the house. From this angle,
Remus could see the cracked window of the room in which he himself had spent many nights,
sleeping on one of the ragged cots on the floor beside the other werewolves.

“There’re wolves, you know,” Alaric said finally, obviously feeling that he’d dragged the suspense
out long enough, “that come here when you’re not ‘ere. Because you’re not ‘ere.”

Remus’ heart began to race as Alaric turned back to give him a piercing look, his brown eyes full
of meaning.
“Which wolves?” Remus asked, his tone part eagerness and part dread. “How long have they been
coming? How do they know when I’m here?”

“They’ve been coming by even longer than you ‘ave, on and off,” Alaric said, ignoring Remus’
two other questions.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me about them before?” Remus demanded, staring at him. And why are
you choosing to tell me now? he added silently to himself. Had he finally crossed some invisible
barrier, further into Alaric’s trust? What had changed in the past month when he’d been gone?

Alaric only shrugged. “Didn’ feel like it.” He glanced at Remus, his gaze challenging, and Remus
felt a spark of doubt rise up in him.

“Did you tell them that I was gone?” Remus asked, suspicion clouding his tone. Alaric gave him a
very dirty look.

“I’m no one’s spy,” he retorted, his tone bitter. “I’m not some lapdog for wizards like you are, and
I’m not a pet for Greyback, neither. Plenty of people are happy to be ‘is pets, though.”

“Who’s Greyback?” Remus asked, confusion furrowing his brow. Alaric turned and stared at him,
and there was almost pity in his gaze this time, along with the usual bitter anger and sarcasm.

“Don’ you know?”

....

“You should’ve told me!” Remus yelled across the room at his father.

They were standing in the small sitting room of Remus’ childhood home, several yards apart, as
Remus stared at his father as if he’d never seen him before. Remus had arrived only ten minutes
before, straight from Coleridge Road, and upon giving his father a quick run-down of what Alaric
had told him, he’d demanded the truth. He hadn’t liked the answer he’d gotten.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” Lyall said, his voice quiet, not returning Remus’ heated tone.
“And would it really have made a difference? No matter the circumstance, you were bitten. There’s
no undoing that.”

“It would’ve changed things for me!” Remus exclaimed, glaring across at his father. “You didn’t
tell me because it was your fault, and you didn’t want me to hate you for it!”

Lyall stared at Remus, shocked, his mouth opening and closing several times before he found the
words to speak aloud. “Maybe that is why I didn’t tell you,” he admitted. “But Remus, you must
know that I’ve been dealing with the guilt of what happened for fourteen years.”

“But I’ve been the one dealing with the consequences,” Remus replied bitterly. “No matter what
you make it seem like sometimes.”

“I’m sorry,” Lyall said, his voice pleading. “I’m so sorry, son.”

“Is this why you’ve treated me like you’re scared of me all these years?” Remus asked, his voice
quiet but still full of anger. “Is this why I’ve been ashamed of myself for so long, terrified for
anyone to find out about me? Is it because you still think all werewolves are monsters, like you
told Greyback and the Ministry all those years ago?”

“I don’t believe that anymore,” Lyall said, desperation clouding his voice. “Remus, you know me.
You know I couldn’t possibly believe that when you’re my son, and I love you.”

“You told me to be afraid of everyone!” Remus yelled, his voice rising once again, ignoring his
father’s pleading. “You taught me that people would reject me as soon as they knew that I’m a
werewolf, and that I always had to hide who I am!”

“It’s not who you are,” Lyall said, shaking his head, a frown on his face. “It’s something that
happened to you, Remus, and—”

“It’s who I am now,” Remus said, his words slow and deliberate. There was a moment of silence,
where Lyall stared at Remus as if Remus had hit him. He opened his mouth, perhaps to protest
again, but Remus cut him off.

“And you know what, dad? People know. My friends know. The whole goddamn Order of the
Phoenix knows, for Merlin’s sake. And they haven’t rejected me. They haven’t exposed me. My
friends have known since I was twelve years old, and they’ve stood by me through it all.”

Lyall was silent then, but different emotions flashed over his face. Remus saw fear flit through his
eyes, replaced with anger, then with confusion. He was sure that his father was trying to resist the
urge to tell Remus off for lying to him, for telling people, as he would’ve when Remus was a kid,
still in Hogwarts, still living here during the holidays. But Remus wasn’t a child anymore, and
Lyall couldn’t tell him what to do. Lyall knew it, too. Remus saw it on his face, as a look of
resignation settled into the lines etched into his skin. After a long moment, he spoke.

“Please, Remus,” he said, his voice tired. “Please, can we just talk? This is a lot of stress for your
mam. She doesn’t like it when we fight.”

“That’s not fucking fair,” Remus hissed through gritted teeth, though his eyes flicked up to the
ceiling briefly, through which his mother was probably laying in her bed, listening to their muffled
voices through the floor. “Don’t use mam’s illness against me like that. It’s you who I’m angry at.”

“I’m sorry,” Lyall said. His blue eyes, so much like Remus’ own, looked dull and cold in the low
lamplight. “But there’s nothing I can really do about any of this now, can I? I’ve apologized, and I
don’t know what else I can do. If you don’t want to hear it—”

“Maybe I’d hear it better if it felt like you actually meant it,” Remus retorted, glaring across at
Lyall. Lyall sighed, his shoulders slumping, and shook his head. Remus felt a wave of disgust go
through him. His father never changed, not really. He was stubborn to the last, unable to even
muster up a genuine apology when Remus was begging him to respond with something, anything
that might dispel the feeling that everything in his life had been a lie.

Remus stared at his father for another long moment, then turned and moved towards the door. He
was still wearing his coat and boots, not having bothered to remove them in his haste to demand an
explanation from his father about what Alaric had told him. When he turned back, he saw that
Lyall’s eyes hadn’t followed his movements, but had fixed on the mantle across from him, his gaze
unfocused.

“Tell mam I’ll be back to see her again another day,” Remus said, opening the door and stepping
out into the warm summer night. “I won’t be here to see you.” With that, he slammed the door of
the cottage behind him, leaving his father frozen in his wake.

Remus strode out through the garden towards the front gate, but once he’d closed that behind him,
too, he paused. Where was he meant to go? He’d planned to stay a few days with the werewolves,
but after Alaric had broken the news about Greyback to him, Remus had left in a hurry to confront
his father. Now, he wasn’t sure if he was prepared to go back and try to tell the young werewolf
what had happened. Instead, he ached to go home, to see Sirius, who must’ve arrived back from the
Auror office hours previously.

Remus hesitated. He was meant to complete his mission, to do what he’d told Dumbledore he
would, but would one night really make a difference? Probably not. He could return in the
morning, tell Alaric what had happened, and perhaps catch El this time, too, who tended to calm
Alaric’s tempers.

Yes, Remus thought, that would be best. Then, he could go home that night. Home. Thinking of it
made a pang of longing go through him, and before he could change his mind again, Remus turned
on the spot, thinking of the alleyway he always apparated to near his and Sirius’ flat. He appeared
seconds later in the alley, his chest expanding with air again after the compressing darkness. He
took a second to take a deep breath, then took off around the corner, walking fast towards the old
building where they lived, in what had been Sirius’ Uncle Alphard’s old flat.

He unlocked the front door, then headed towards the elevators, pressing the up button and
bouncing impatiently on the balls of his feet while he waited for the doors to open. Striding inside,
he pressed the button labeled seven and waited as the elevator creaked into motion, beginning to
rise through the floors. The clattering trip upwards was very familiar by this point, after a year of
living there. Remus had grown to hold a sort of annoyed affection with the old elevator and its
creaking progress up and down the floors.

When he reached their floor, he stepped out of the elevator and walked over to the door labeled
‘77,’ deftly unlocking it, stepping inside, and shutting the door behind him. The sound of the lock
clicking back into place caused a wave of relief to flood through Remus, and he sighed out a long
breath, his shoulders slumping.

It was strange how quickly this place had begun to feel like home. Remus had been doubtful at
first, reluctant to move in with Sirius. He’d held out for a while, going back and forth in his mind
deciding whether or not to take Sirius up on his offer. Even after he’d agreed to move in, he’d first
insisted that he pay Sirius some rent. After realizing that he’d have no income, however, due to the
fact that he’d been rejected from the job he’d applied for at the Department for the Regulation and
Control of Magical Creatures—which had somehow found out that he was a werewolf—he relented
on that front as well. He hadn’t really had a chance to find another job, either, as he was so busy
talking to the werewolves for Dumbledore.

Still, Sirius had never minded in the slightest. He was paid a small salary by the Auror office, even
while he was being trained, but he also had all the money he’d inherited from his uncle to support
him. He owned the flat, too, so he didn’t have to pay rent, either. Therefore, he was more than
happy to fully support Remus, even when it sometimes bothered Remus that he had to do so.

Still, the flat had become a home for Remus in the past year, a refuge, especially as he knew that
whenever he returned from long days or weeks spent with the wolves, Sirius would always be there
to welcome him home. It was warm, dry, and clean, and Remus had learned to be grateful for those
things, seeing how Alaric and the other wolves lived. Besides all of that, it also felt safe, safer than
any place had ever felt before in his life. When he entered the flat, Remus didn’t have to pretend to
be anyone or anything. He didn’t have to hide or be afraid of being found out. He could just be.
Sirius, he knew, felt the same.

Remus removed his jacket and hung it up on the coat rack, looking around at the space. There was
the usual mess around the sitting room: the newspapers on the coffee table next to the stacks of
books that Sirius had taken from the bookshelf and not bothered to replace when he finished
 reading them. Remus had never minded the mess, though. It was James who tutted and
compulsively began to put things away whenever he came over. As long as the space wasn’t grimy,
Remus didn’t mind a bit of clutter. Sometimes, it was even comforting. He could see where Sirius
had made his tracks when Remus was gone: which books he’d picked up and cast aside, what spots
he’d fallen asleep in as a dog rather than sleeping in their bed alone.

Remus removed his boots, setting them by the door, and walked towards the bedroom, his
footsteps creaking only slightly on the hardwood floor. Opening the door as quietly as he could, he
looked in and made out Sirius’ sprawled shape on the bed, half turned onto his side and half on his
stomach, clutching a pillow to his chest.

Sirius had always slept that way, and Remus had always found it rather endearing. The first time
Remus had seen Sirius like this had been in their fourth year when he’d had to wake Sirius up for
class one morning. When his eyes had fallen upon Sirius’ curled form, cradling the pillow to him,
Remus’ heart had softened in a way that he’d cursed himself for at the time. Now, Remus loved to
see Sirius like this. It was one of the rare moments when his boyfriend was truly unguarded. His
face always looked younger when he slept, even when he had his nightmares.

Remus smiled, then moved over to the bed. He raised the covers and climbed in behind Sirius, not
bothering to undress. Sirius stirred slightly as Remus moved closer, wrapping his arms around
Sirius’ waist.

“Mhmm,” Sirius murmured, his voice rough and sleepy. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Remus replied quietly, Sirius’ warmth comforting him as he buried his face into the sweater
Sirius was wearing, which was in fact Remus’.

“Didn’t expect you back tonight,” Sirius said, his voice still blurred with sleep. “How was Alaric?”

“He was alright,” Remus replied, his voice slightly muffled as he breathed in Sirius’ familiar scent,
his mind still whirring. “I’ll probably go back tomorrow. I had…other things to deal with.”

“What things?” Sirius asked, sounding a bit more awake at the words. Remus sighed, tightening
his hold on Sirius slightly, and shook his head, his face brushing Sirius’ shoulder as he did so.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” he said. “Now, I just want to hold you.”

“Alright, Moony,” Sirius replied, and Remus felt his breathing slow once again as he drifted back
off to sleep. It was a long while before Remus could make his mind stop whirring, however, and
fall into sleep himself.

Chapter End Notes

So, my Christmas was ruined by COVID, and I spent it completely alone! Fun fun fun.
(I didn’t have COVID, it was my brother who got it.) I’m just grateful for the fact that
the situation for me was more of an inconvenience than a real threat to someone I
loved, as he’s not high-risk. Please please please get vaccinated if you are able to (get
the booster if you can!), and continue to socially distance as much as you can. This
new variant is scary.
 1979: Amalgamation
Chapter Notes

Happy New Year, all! It's really weird that it's 2022, I keep forgetting it's not still
December.

cw: brief mention of past abuse, mention of non-major character death

The music was loud, vibrating against the floorboards, the lights were dim, and the chatter filled
every crevice of the little flat Sirius had inherited from his uncle. Luckily, Sirius and Remus had
cast strong silencing and muffling charms over every inch earlier that day, so as long as they held,
they should get no complaints from the neighbors. It was September, exactly one year from the
start of his and Marlene’s Auror training program, and they’d invited their friends, fellow trainees,
and random Order tag-alongs to the flat that night to celebrate.

Sirius held a bottle in his hand—butterbeer, although Marlene had added a splash of firewhiskey to
both of their bottles upon opening them. At the moment, however, Marlene was on the other side
of the room talking animatedly with Frank Longbottom as he looked a little alarmed, his eyes
tracing the path of her hand waving her bottle around as if worried that she might spill it on him.

Sirius let out a snort of laughter that no one could hear above the noise and looked over beside him
to see Remus and James having an absorbed conversation of their own on the couch. Sirius’ feet
were resting on Remus’ lap, but neither his best friend nor his boyfriend was paying much
attention to him.

“You’re kidding,” Remus was saying to James, grinning. “That can’t be true.”

“I’m not kidding,” James said, laughing. “The guy kept insisting that he was fine and pushing us
away every time we tried to remove it. My boss was nearly crying because we could see him
bleeding out onto the sheets.”

“So what happened?” Remus demanded, taking another swig of his drink. James shrugged.

“He eventually passed out from the blood loss,” he said. “We saved him, in the end, and he didn’t
remember anything when he woke up, so we didn’t mention it.”

“And that’s why people shouldn’t keep dragons as pets, I suppose,” Remus joked. “You should tell
Hagrid about this guy.”

“He’d just say the guy didn’t handle the dragon well,” Sirius cut in, laughing. “He won’t be
deterred.”

“Probably,” Remus agreed, grinning. “Though I’m not sure either of you is in a place to judge, as
you did try to keep a werewolf as a pet for seven years.”

“What do you mean try?” Sirius joked, grinning over at Remus. Remus grinned, his cheeks
flushed with the alcohol he’d drunk.

“Is that what I am to you, Padfoot?” he asked, tilting his head teasingly.
“Your words, not mine,” Sirius retorted, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, Sweet Merlin, I’ll never get used to the way you two flirt,” James groaned. “It’s really
bizarre.”

“Says the man who spent a year trying to get Lily to like him by showing off his spellwork and
tilting his chair back in class,” Sirius said, looking away from Remus’ blue eyes, which seemed to
be pulling him forward.

“I was fifteen,” James groaned. “I feel like I should’ve lived that down by now.”

“You’ll never live that down,” Remus said, grinning and taking another sip of his butterbeer.

“I still can’t believe your better half chose not to come tonight,” Sirius said, pouting. “I haven’t
seen her in ages.”

“Oi, it’s not Lily’s fault,” James defended his girlfriend. “She’s exhausted. She works more than
any of us.”

“Who knew the St. Mungo’s Antidote Research Center would be so crazy?” Remus asked, shaking
his head. “Lily might as well live in that office.”

“Trust me, she practically does,” James said. “Her roommates hardly know what she looks like
anymore.”

“I’d guess that you’re also partially at fault for that,” Remus said, grinning into his drink.
“Wormtail told me that Lily sleeps over at yours almost every night.”

Even in the low lighting, Sirius could see James’ cheeks redden slightly, but he only rolled his eyes
and changed the subject. “Where is Pete, anyway?” James asked, sitting up straight and craning his
neck around to look for the fourth Marauder.

“I’m not sure,” Sirius said, looking around for him, too. “He disappeared a little while ago, but I
think he’s still here. Maybe chatting up some witch or other.”

“I didn’t get the impression that he was overly interested in trying to find someone to date at the
moment,” James commented, taking a swig of his butterbeer, which, unlike Remus’ and Sirius’,
wasn’t spiked with firewhiskey, as he had an early shift at St. Mungo’s the next morning.

“You never know with Wormy,” Sirius said, shrugging. “He could already be seeing someone for
all we know.”

“I’d know if he was seeing someone,” James said dismissively. “We share a flat.”

“You work almost as much as Lily does, Prongs,” Sirius pointed out. “And when you’re not
working, you’re with Lily, or busy with Order duties. I’d say Wormtail could easily sneak someone
by you.”

James opened his mouth to protest, but at that moment Peter slid into the seat next to him. “What’s
up?” he asked, raising his eyebrows in slight amusement when he spotted their combative
expressions.

“That’s what we’d like to know,” Sirius said, plastering a winning smile onto his face. “Seeing
anyone new, Wormy?”
Peter’s eyebrows shot up further, and he stared at Sirius for a moment, as if to see if he was joking,
before scoffing. “I’d tell you lot if I was, dimwit,” he retorted, shaking his head and taking a sip of
his drink.

“No, you wouldn’t,” Sirius scoffed. “You’ve always been private—borderline secretive—about
women. It took a full month for you to even tell us that you and Layla broke up.”

“You didn’t ask,” Peter muttered.

“Well, next time you want to play a game of twenty questions with us, drop some hints,” Sirius
replied, rolling his eyes. “I feel like I’ve hardly seen you, either, these days, Pete. Stop being
mysterious and broody and come over more.”

“It’s not my fault we work different hours,” Peter protested.

“Well, I’ve got a few days off, now,” Sirius said. “A couple of days until the next section of
training starts. And Moony’s here for a few more days until he goes back to Coleridge Road, too.
We can spend some time together, just like old times.”

Peter hesitated for a moment but apparently decided that being grumpy was too much effort.
“Fine,” he said. “I have the day off on Monday, I can come over then.”

“Perfect,” Sirius said, grinning. “You can catch me up on what you’ve been doing, elusive
bastard.”

Peter rolled his eyes, but he grinned, too. James looked a little disappointed, beside him.

“Don’t worry, Prongs,” Sirius said, leaning over to give him a friendly slap on the back. “One day
you’ll have time to join us. Just consult your tea leaves and let us know when that’ll be, alright?”

James rolled his eyes. “Wanker,” he said, shoving Sirius.

“Oi, Sirius!” Marlene called from across the room. Sirius looked up, his eyes finding her, and
raised his eyebrows in amusement.

“What?” he shouted back through the mélee toward her.

“Richards just bet me that she can beat me in an arm wrestling contest, come and see me trounce
her?” Marlene shouted back across the room, cupping her hands around her mouth to do so and
ignoring the tough-looking girl with a buzzcut next to her, her arms crossed and an amused
expression on her face.

“I’ll come and see her trounce you!” Sirius retorted, leaping up happily and moving over toward
the two women. Several people laughed, including the girl beside Marlene, while Marlene pouted.

The party fizzled out around two o’clock in the morning, all of Sirius and Marlene’s Trainee Auror
friends leaving slowly. James and Dorcas ducked out, too, citing the need to get at least a few hours
of sleep before work that morning. Peter tagged along after James, and soon, only Sirius, Remus,
and Marlene were left.

“Don’t you want to go after your girlfriend?” Sirius asked Marlene, grinning as she settled herself
onto their couch, closing her eyes. She gave a slight shake of her head, not opening her eyes.

“I’m staying here,” she declared. “If I floo right now, I’ll throw up, and if I apparate, I’ll throw up
and splinch myself.”
“Well, make yourself comfortable,” Remus said, a note of amusement in his voice as he took in
Marlene’s form on the couch. She made a little noise of assent, her breath already beginning to
slow. Sirius grinned and shook his head, letting out a soft snort of laughter as he followed Remus
into the bathroom, grabbing his toothbrush from the sink.

“Marlene’s like a cat, she can sleep anywhere,” Remus commented, smirking as he began to brush
his own teeth, too, leaning on the side of their large clawed bathtub.

“Her sleep schedule is so extremely functional it’s almost worrying,” Sirius replied, laughing.
“She’s never shared her secret and I resent that.”

“I think her secret might be a non-traumatic childhood and nice family,” Remus said, his voice only
containing a slight note of bitterness in it.

“Must be,” Sirius said, his voice slightly garbled by his toothbrush, smiling. At least Remus could
joke about it with him, now. His fallout with his father had cast a dark and gloomy shadow over his
mood for the past weeks, and Sirius hated to see him like that. Of course, it wasn’t just Lyall that
was bothering Remus, Sirius knew: the knowledge he’d gained about the werewolf who’d bitten
him, Fenrir Greyback, troubled him more than he wanted to admit. Remus had always believed that
the werewolf who’d bitten him was like Remus himself, someone out of control and no doubt
horrified by their own actions. The reality was worse.

“Speaking of families,” Sirius said casually after rinsing his mouth in the basin and replacing his
toothbrush in the cup by the sink. “I got some news about mine the other day. Forgot to mention
it.”

A crease formed between Remus’ eyebrows, and he frowned at Sirius. “What happened?”

“My dad died,” Sirius replied bluntly. “Heart attack, they said. A real one this time, I’d wager, not
whatever happened to Alphard.”

Remus’ eyes widened in shock, and he stared at Sirius. “How did you find out?”

“Dumbledore told me,” Sirius said, shrugging. “After I finished scouting that Muggle village, you
know. He told me he thought I should know if I didn’t already.”

“That was three days ago,” Remus pointed out, raising his eyebrows. “I find it hard to believe that
you just forgot to mention it for three days.”

Sirius shrugged again, not responding. Remus sighed, giving Sirius a searching look. “Are you
alright?”

“Of course!” Sirius exclaimed, perhaps a little too loudly. Remus’ eyebrows shot up again, and he
gave Sirius a disbelieving look. Sirius sighed.

“Yeah, I am,” he repeated in a more natural tone. “I mean, I was surprised. And then maybe I felt
sad for half a second, but I got over it. It’s not like I’m really sad that he died. I always hated him.”
A hollow feeling formed in Sirius’ stomach as he thought of his father, with his cold grey eyes, his
face expressionless as he inflicted pain upon his son. Sirius had always wondered how a person
could be so unfeeling as his father had always been. “He always hated me, too,” he added softly.

He didn’t realize that Remus had reached out until he felt his warm hand on his shoulder. He
started at first, then leaned into the contact, looking up into Remus’ blue eyes.

“It’s alright to grieve,” Remus said softly. “Whether it’s for him or for you, it’s alright either way.
You don’t have to explain to me or anyone why you feel the way you do.”

Sirius nodded, not quite able to speak yet. He imagined the house in his head, with one fewer
person in it, a light snuffed out. One less person who’d told him what a disappointment he was, one
less voice in the din.

“I’m glad he’s dead,” he said after a moment, clenching his jaw and raising his chin. “It’s nothing
less than he deserved.”

Remus nodded but didn’t say anything else as they left the bathroom, Sirius switching the light off
as they went. On the way to their bedroom, Sirius caught sight of Marlene again, sleeping on the
couch, and the hollow feeling in his stomach lessened slightly, the knot of cold anger unwinding.
He knew that Marlene would likely not be there in the morning; she’d wake up early and head back
to her flat so she could catch Dorcas before she left for work. Still, Marlene would be back later in
the day to bother him, no doubt. Perhaps she’d drag him and Remus out into Muggle London to
have lunch, or they’d go into Diagon Alley to Quality Quidditch Supplies to ogle the merchandise.
That night, when James and Dorcas got off work, they’d meet up and have dinner at one of their
flats. If they were lucky, Lily might even be free to see them, too. That was his family, and they’d
always be there for him.

....

“I still can’t believe Wormtail stood me up,” Sirius whined several days later, his head resting on
the back of the couch as he looked over it at Remus, who was hurriedly buttering a piece of toast
and cramming it into his mouth. “And now you’re leaving, too!”

“I’m sorry, I’ve just been getting so much further with Alaric recently, I don’t want to see him
backslide. El wouldn’t have owled me if it wasn’t urgent,” Remus replied, taking a gulp of tea
before resuming eating his toast, speaking to Sirius between mouthfuls. He wouldn’t be eating at
all if Sirius hadn’t made him, but it seemed as if he was trying to make sure his food went
completely undigested.

“And you know Peter didn’t have a choice,” Remus finished, swallowing a large mouthful of bread
in one gulp. “When you get called in for Order duty, you get called in.”

“I wonder what happened,” Sirius mused. “All Wormy said was that he had to do reconnaissance
for a potential target for the Death Eaters, but they must’ve just gotten the news, or else he
would’ve known in advance.”

“I just hope it isn’t like what happened in January, with the Betelgeuse incident. First it’s
reconnaissance for a possible target, then half the Order is called in and fifty Muggles are dead.”

Sirius shuddered, thinking of that day, then shook himself. “Don’t go there, Moony,” he said
firmly. “Wormtail will be fine. Edgar, Fabian, and Hestia will all be there, too, with any luck.”

“Yeah, I know he’ll be,” Remus said, sounding distracted as he looked around frantically for where
he’d put his keys and dropped his plate into the sink, reaching for his wand as he did so.

“Hey, stop,” Sirius said, rising and moving over to where Remus was. He grabbed Remus’ keys off
his chair and handed them to him, then put both hands on Remus’ shoulders and steered him away
from the kitchen. “I can do the dishes. You go and deal with Alaric. Make sure he hasn’t wrecked
that house more than it’s already wrecked.”

Remus let out a deep exhale and nodded. He met Sirius’ eyes and gave him a small smile, then
leaned down and pressed his lips to Sirius’. It was only a brief kiss: a brief hand on Sirius’ cheek,
Sirius’ hands falling from Remus’ shoulders to clutch at Remus’ waist, holding him tight and
wishing he didn’t have to let go. When Remus pulled back, Sirius smiled.

“While you’re there, see if you can fix some things without them knowing,” he suggested, giving
Remus a wink. Remus grinned.

“I’ll see if they let me out of their sight,” he said. “Last time I tried to sneakily fix one of the
windows with magic, Alaric was standing right behind me and he ripped me a new one for doing
it.”

“I don’t get it,” Sirius said, shaking his head in amusement. He couldn’t understand why anyone
would insist on living in a broken-down house when many parts of it could easily be fixed by
magic.

Remus just smiled. “I know you don’t, Padfoot,” he said affectionately. “Maybe if you meet him
one day you’ll get it.”

“Maybe,” Sirius said doubtfully, then pushed Remus towards the door. “Go. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay,” Remus said, moving towards the door and shoving his feet into his boots, lacing them up
quickly. He gave Sirius a last wave and smile as he disappeared out the door, and Sirius sighed,
following to lock the door behind him. He leaned against the closed door for a moment, looking at
their flat, then pushed himself off it and walked over to the kitchen to clean Remus’ plate. He hated
this part: the waiting for news, waiting for Peter to come back from his mission and Remus to tell
him what had happened with Alaric. He hated not knowing when his friends and his boyfriend
would be home, or whether or not they were safe.

It was worse because this was Sirius’ day off, and he had no Auror training to distract him. Both
James and Lily were working, but Dorcas had managed to get a day off to spend with Marlene, so
Sirius knew they wouldn’t want to be bothered. He sighed, dried the dish, and put it back in the
cupboard. Leaning his hands on the counter, he tried to think of what he could do that day that
wouldn’t be absolutely depressing. His eyes lighted on the sketchbook on the coffee table and
moved over toward it.

Sirius had often doodled in the corners of pages in his time at Hogwarts, but he’d always felt a little
bit ashamed about it: a remnant of the things his tutors had taught him when he’d been a child,
which he couldn’t quite let go of. It was Remus who’d first bought him a sketchbook for his
nineteenth birthday the previous year, and Sirius had given in to the urge at last. After that point,
Sirius had begun to draw everything. It seemed that once he had a place to put them all, his
drawings developed a life of their own and multiplied at an alarming pace.

Sirius opened the sketchbook, flicking past the many drawings of Remus’ face—his eyes, framed
in long lashes, the curve of his jaw, his hands—through portraits of his friends—James laughing,
Marlene pulling a face, Lily raising a single, unimpressed eyebrow at him—to the final few pages,
which were covered in lines and shapes. So far, they were uninspired doodles, ideas that Sirius had
tried to make come to life to no avail, but eventually, Sirius hoped, they’d turn into something
much more interesting. Still, as he gazed down at the paper, no new flicker of inspiration caught at
him, and he made an impatient noise, throwing the sketchbook back down onto the coffee table
and glaring at it.

The longer he looked at it, the more the shapes blurred in his eyes, and he sighed. If only he knew
about runes, or any sort of magical symbols, for that matter. He’d always liked looking at Remus’
Ancient Runes textbooks when he’d taken the subject for O.W.L.s, but that didn’t mean he’d
absorbed any of it.

Suddenly, Sirius sat up straight. An idea had just popped into his head, an incredible idea that he
couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of before in his hours of agonizing over this problem. Grabbing
his sketchbook off the table, he rushed toward the door. Before he could grab his keys and head out
of it, however, he looked down and realized that he was wearing nothing but pants and a t-shirt.
Groaning, he rushed back to the bedroom to throw on some clothes, brush his teeth, and comb his
unruly locks. Once he was properly dressed, he raced out the door, locking it quickly behind him
before looking both ways down the corridor, then apparating on the spot.

Sirius appeared moments later in the shadowy supply closet on the third floor of the building where
Lily, Mary, Emmeline, and Hestia lived. Sirius had learned from the girls that this was the best
place to apparate, as it was locked to all but the landlord and the people he hired to do maintenance
for the building, and therefore could be relied upon to be deserted. He unlocked the door quickly,
stepped out into the hallway, then locked it behind him magically. Walking across the hall, he
rapped smartly on the door of the girls’ flat and waited. There was silence for a long moment, then
the sound of hurrying footsteps. It was Emmeline who opened the door, and she raised her
eyebrows at him in confusion once she registered who he was.

“Hi, Sirius,” she greeted, opening the door wider to allow him in. “This is unexpected. Everyone
else is out, you know.”

“I was looking for you, actually,” Sirius said, smiling and stepping into the flat. “I heard you were
back from France, thought I’d come to catch up.”

Emmeline closed the door behind him, then turned to him, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes
at him slightly in amused confusion, a smile spreading across her face.

“I was in France for only two weeks,” she pointed out. “But I think it’s been more like a year since
we had a proper conversation.”

“Well, when you’re not on a Quidditch team with someone anymore it’s hard to keep in touch,”
Sirius said, grinning and shrugging. “We’ve both been busy, and you’ve been traveling all over for
your job.”

“True enough,” Emmeline said, sighing and sitting down on the couch, gesturing for Sirius to sit
down, too. “I do love it, you know, but it gets tiring sometimes.”

“Trust me, I know what you mean,” Sirius said. “Auror training is great, but sometimes I think I’d
rather just get more sleep.”

Emmeline let out a small, tired laugh. “I’d like to see my friends more, too,” she said. “I thought I
was going to spend the day with Tia, but she got rushed off by Dumbledore for a mission.”

“Peter was, too,” Sirius said, nodding heavily. “I made plans with him today.”

“So I’m your next best option?” Emmeline asked, giving Sirius a half-smile. Sirius grinned back at
her, unabashed.

“Something like that,” he said. “I wanted your help with something, actually.”

“You don’t say,” Emmeline said, grinning at him in amusement, her eyes flicking toward his
sketchbook. “What is it, then?”

“I want to get a tattoo,” Sirius began, giving her a small, hopeful smile. Emmeline’s eyes flashed
with alarm.

“I’m not going to give you a—”

“I’m not asking you to tattoo me,” Sirius clarified, letting out a bark of laughter. “I just need your
help to design it.”

“Well, good,” Emmeline said, looking relieved. “I’m not Marlene; I don’t just do at-home body
modifications on my friends. Still, why do you need my help? I’m no artist.”

“I know that,” Sirius said. “But you work with runes for a living, and you took the class all the way
to N.E.W.T.s. I thought you could help me out with finding an idea of what to get.”

“You want a rune tattoo?” Emmeline asked, starting to grin. “Bit pretentious, don’t you think? You
didn’t even take the class.”

“Oh, shut it,” Sirius replied, rolling his eyes. “Maybe it’s pretentious—I don’t care. I want
something that looks cool, and bonus points if it means something. That’s why I thought of runes.”

Emmeline laughed. “Fine, I’ll help you find something,” she said, rising from the couch. “Wait
here. I’ll grab some of my books.”

When Emmeline returned, she and Sirius got to work. It was a nice distraction, Sirius thought, and
Emmeline seemed to be enjoying it, too, as she flipped through each page, explaining to Sirius
what each rune meant. Sometimes, she told stories about times that she’d come across them in her
work, reminiscing about long-forgotten relics and new discoveries that she’d helped make in her
research. Sirius listened with fascination, thinking as he did so how far they’d each come since
graduating from Hogwarts. He felt as if no time had passed sometimes, but then he remembered
that they all had jobs and were out in the world doing adult things, and then it felt like ages since
they’d left school.

Sirius copied down some of the most interesting runes in his sketchbook as Emmeline talked, but
none really stood out to him until Mary came home from work at four o’clock and joined in on
their efforts.

“What are you two doing?” a voice asked from the door, and both Sirius and Emmeline turned to
see Mary standing in the doorway, hanging up her jacket and keys and looking over at them
curiously.

“Hi, Sirius,” she greeted him. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Sirius and I have been looking at runes,” Emmeline explained as Mary moved closer, looking
down curiously at the books in front of them. “He wants to get a rune tattoo, so I told him I’d help
him come up with ideas.”

Mary glanced at Sirius, an amused look on her face. “Bit pretentious,” she commented, sitting
down next to him and running her thumb over the corner of a page.

“Sod off,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes, just as he had when Emmeline had said this. Mary smirked,
then returned her attention to the book.

“You know, I kind of missed Ancient Runes. Not enough to take it for N.E.W.T.s, mind you, but I
really enjoyed the class. I love how all the runes look.”

She flicked to the next page of the book and ran her fingers over one of the runes in the top right
corner. “This was one of my favorites, I remember.” Sirius peered down at it, his interest piqued.
The symbol was U-shaped, with a bar coming down from it with three perpendicular ticks through
it. It was very interesting looking.

“That’s not really a rune,” Emmeline commented, leaning forward to look at it. “It’s an alchemical
symbol, really. I always thought it was funny that we learned those, too.”

“I know, but I always liked the look of it,” Mary said.

“What’s it mean?” Sirius asked.

“Amalgamation,” Emmeline replied promptly. In response to Sirius’ confused look, she elaborated.
“It means to combine or unite two or more things into one.”

“The alchemical symbols are associated with animals, too, aren’t they?” Mary asked, tracing the
lines with her fingers. “I always forgot which one is with which.”

“Amalgamation is sometimes associated with the grey wolf,” Emmeline answered. “The grey wolf
is more commonly associated with antimony, though. Not all of the symbols have animal
associations.”

“Interesting,” Sirius said, raising his eyebrows, a slight smile spreading across his face. He reached
for his sketchbook and drew the symbol, sketching it several times and referencing the book as he
did so, to make sure he got it right. Then, he stood up, giving both girls a smile.

“Well, I’d better be off. Time’s ticking on, after all. It was great to catch up, Em.”

“Wait,” Emmeline said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at him. “Are you going to get that symbol
tattooed, Sirius?”

“I might,” Sirius replied innocently. Emmeline raised her eyebrows at him, giving him a very
exasperated look. Mary’s eyebrows furrowed for a second, then her eyes widened.

“Sirius Black, you’re not actually going to get a symbol representing your boyfriend tattooed on
your person, are you?”

Sirius grinned mischievously at them both. “Thanks for all your help, Em, Mac. I’ll see you both
around.”

With that, he strode to the door, opening it and giving them a salute before exiting. He caught one
last glimpse of the look of horror on Mary’s face, and the one of slight exasperation and
amusement on Emmeline’s, before he shut the door behind him. Grinning slightly, he looked down
at the sketch in his hand, then up at the hallway, checking to see if it was empty before turning on
the spot and disapparating with a small pop. He had places to be.
 1979: She Used to Be Mine
Chapter Notes

I want to put it out there that I’ve taken a lot of my inspiration for where Lily works
from where Teddy Lupin works in sweasley’s Teddy/Victoire series, particularly ‘The
Spark.’ (Check them out!!) I first read this series when I was like 12 probably on ff.net
(it was reposted on ao3 recently), but the fics in that series are still genuinely some of
my favorites ever, such nostalgia attached to them for me <3. (I’m just re-reading them
now, actually.) Amazing writing, though there are some kinda :/ moments that are
definitely specific to it being written in the early 2010s, and I think Dominique
Weasley should’ve been a lesbian.

Anyway, it’s funny because I work in biomedical research (specifically working on a

COVID-19 study rn actually), so I keep wondering how HIPAA works in the magical
world. But I digress.

cw: discussions of death, graphic depictions of violence

See the end of the chapter for more notes

She's imperfect but she tries

She is good but she lies

She is hard on herself

She is broken and won't ask for help

She is messy but she's kind

She is lonely most of the time

She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie

She is gone but she used to be mine

- "She Used to Be Mine," Sara Bareilles

The morning after Sirius had gone over to the girls’ flat, Lily stormed over to Sirius and Remus’
flat with the purpose of talking some sense into him about his tattoo idea. She had a late shift that
day, so she’d slept in, planning to get ready and eat breakfast with no rush or stress, but when
Emmeline and Mary had told her of Sirius’ visit the previous day, her plans had changed. Luckily,
Hestia had arrived back late that night from her Order mission, so Lily didn’t have to worry about
her safety, instead focusing all her attention on the absolute dunderhead that was Sirius Black.

Lily left her flat at ten, pulling her dark red hair into a hasty ponytail as she did so. It was shorter
now than it’d been at Hogwarts, but even so, she perpetually wore it up to prevent it from falling
into her potions, as she’d been warned against when she started at the Antidote Research Center. It
was a habit for her, now, to pull it away from her face whenever she left the house, whether she
was going to work or not.

Five minutes later, she stood in the hallway outside Sirius’ and Remus’ flat and raised her fist to
produce a series of sharp, insistent raps on the door. She waited, hands on her hips, for Sirius or
Remus to open it, and heard a pair of feet making their way slowly toward the door. It was surely
Sirius, she thought exasperatedly, who’d be able to tell just from her knock who it was, and why
she was there. He opened the door moments later, eyebrows raised with a slight, amused smile on
his face. He was shirtless and wearing a pair of black sweatpants, though his attire neither surprised
nor embarrassed Lily in the slightest. She’d popped over for so many early morning and late night
visits in the past year that she knew by now that this was what to expect from him when she
arrived.

“Morning, Lily,” he greeted, quite unabashed by his lack of a shirt, too. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Her eyes immediately flicked down to his exposed sternum, where the symbol representing
amalgamation lay inky black against his pale skin. Clearly, he’d helped the healing process along
with magic, as it was hardly red at all, and not covered by any kind of bandage. She let out an
exasperated snort, pushing past him into the flat.

“You got it already?” she demanded, giving their perpetually messy flat a once-over before
turning back to him. “I thought I’d have a little time to make you think it through when Emmeline
and Mary told me, but you had to get it the same day you came up with the idea!”

“Want some tea, Lils?” Sirius asked innocently. She stared at him for a moment, exasperation
fighting her amusement and resignation as an unwilling smile spread across her face.

“You idiot,” she said. “You don’t just get a tattoo representing your boyfriend. You’d better have
some good tea if you’re going to try to sweet talk me into not being annoyed with you.”

Sirius grinned at her, and moved towards the kitchen, taking out two mugs and filling up the kettle.
“Do you like Earl Grey?” he asked over his shoulder. She rolled her eyes but nodded, sitting down
at the counter heavily and resting her elbows on it as Sirius began to make the tea.

“You drink Earl Grey, now?” she asked in slight amusement. “Isn’t that Remus’ thing?”

“Well, Remus remembers to go shopping more often than I do,” Sirius explained. “So I end up
drinking his tea a lot, these days.”

“What does Remus think of this tattoo, then?” Lily asked, glancing around, wondering if Remus
was still sleeping or if he was out at the moment.

“He didn’t come home last night from the werewolves,” Sirius replied, answering her unspoken
question, too. “So that remains to be seen.”

“Jesus,” Lily said, shaking her head. “So I’m guessing you didn’t ask his opinion beforehand,
either?”

“It’ll be a marvelous surprise,” Sirius said, amusement at Lily’s exasperation coloring his voice as
he poured the tea into two mugs, adding cream but not sugar for Lily, as she liked it, while he
topped his off with such a large quantity of sugar that it made her teeth hurt just to watch.

“You’re an absolutely ridiculous person and I can’t believe I’m friends with you,” Lily told him
bluntly, taking her mug from him as he held it out for her and wrapping her fingers around it. Sirius
grinned at her again.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said. Lily rolled her eyes once more, and Sirius seemed to take
it as a cue to change the subject. “So, is today your day off, then?”

Lily laughed only slightly bitterly. “Not even,” she said. “I’m on a late shift today, so I have to be
in by eleven and stay until ten.”

“I don’t understand how you can work as much as you do and survive,” Sirius remarked, shaking
his head in amusement.

“Well, soon I shouldn’t have to work so much,” Lily said. “The problem is that we’re understaffed,
but we just hired a new person straight out of Hogwarts. He’s still being trained now, so he can’t be
working without someone else there supervising him, but after he’s finished his training, he’ll be
able to help out with shifts.”

“That’s good,” Sirius said. “Do you like him?”

Lily wrinkled her nose. “Not particularly,” she admitted. “But he’s not absolutely horrible, either. I
tolerate him. He seems perfectly competent; the annoying thing about him is just that he thinks
he’s god’s gift to potion-making.”

“Charming,” Sirius commented wryly.

“Truly,” Lily said. “But I’ve gotten used to that sort of person while working in the Antidote
Research Center. Many people who work there have a sort of god complex, especially the men. As
long as they do good research, though, I can deal with it.”

“Surprising that Snape didn’t want to work there, then. Sounds like he’d be right at home,” Sirius
said, snorting.

“Well, I’m sure he’s busy with other things at the moment,” Lily said, her voice souring as she
thought of her ex-best friend. “Why research antidotes when you can maim and kill people instead,
right?”

Sirius snorted out a laugh but didn’t get a chance to reply, as the sound of a key being inserted into
the lock of the front door distracted them, and they both looked towards the door in time to see
Remus let himself in.

“Hi, Lily,” he said, smiling at her. Lily noticed that his face was a little dirty, his gaze slightly
unfocused, and his eyes had purple bags beneath them. She wondered if he’d slept at all the
previous night.

“Morning, Remus,” she said, smiling back at him. “Long time no see.”

“What happened with Alaric?” Sirius demanded, cutting off Remus’ reply to Lily. “Did it go
alright?”

“Yeah, it was fine,” Remus said. “It wasn’t what I expected, actually. He’d gotten into a fight with
another werewolf, one of the ones who run with Greyback. Turns out he’s been in conflict with that
lot for a while, especially after Jade left to join them. I helped El clean him up a bit—he even let
me help heal him with magic—and then he wanted to talk, to give me information. It was a big
success of a night, really. Dumbledore will be pleased.”

“That’s great,” Lily said.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Sirius said, moving around the counter towards Remus and wrapping
him in a tight hug. Remus smiled over Sirius’ shoulder at Lily, and Lily grinned back. She never
got tired of seeing Sirius and Remus show each other these little moments of affection after so long
of watching them pine after one another during Hogwarts. It’d taken time for them to grow
comfortable even doing things as small as hugging or holding hands around their friends, so
whenever Lily witnessed a moment like this, she couldn’t help the wave of pride and affection for
them both that washed over her.

Only when Sirius pulled back did Remus register the new addition to his skin. His brow furrowed,
looking down at it. “You got a tattoo?” he asked Sirius, looking up into his eyes again. Sirius gave
him an innocent smile and Lily laughed, draining the last drops of her tea and standing up from her
stool.

“Well, that’s my cue to leave,” she said, moving past them towards the door and giving Sirius a
hard pat on his shoulder as she did so. “Good luck explaining this one, Sirius.” She gave them both
a little wave as she left, registering Sirius’ annoyed glance at her and Remus’ look of confusion
before she closed the door behind her.

Checking her watch, Lily found that it was ten-thirty—not quite enough time to do anything else
before work, so she decided to just go in early. She checked to see if the hallway was empty before
turning on the spot and apparating to St. Mungo’s. She materialized on the ground floor, as she
always did, then walked over to the lifts and pressed the up button. Immediately, one of the doors
slid open, and she entered, pressing the button for the third floor. Several more people got on at the
first floor, one of whom was a Healer who Lily had had a couple of interactions with. The Healer
gave her a smile, which Lily returned, but neither spoke to greet one another, and Lily got off alone
on the third floor.

She passed the waiting area, noting as she did so that it was more crowded than usual, and headed
into the hallway that led to the Antidote Research Center. Opening the door, she found it nearly
empty. Azar, who had the shift before Lily’s, was likely out consulting with Healers about a
patient. In the potion-brewing area, however, was a middle-aged wizard with a mop of curly, dark
brown hair, leaning over a cauldron.

“Afternoon, Damocles,” Lily greeted, smiling at the wizard as she passed him on her way to her
desk. She placed her bag onto it and unwound her scarf before removing her coat and draping it
over the back of the chair.

“Oh, hello, Lily,” the man said, looking up in apparent surprise, as if he hadn’t noticed her enter.
Lily smiled, well used to this by then. Damocles always got so caught up in his potions he often
didn’t notice who was in the room with him, even sometimes not realizing when someone was
speaking directly to him. Lily had misinterpreted this behavior as rudeness when she’d first started
working at the Antidote Research Center, but over time, Damocles Belby had quickly become her
favorite senior potioneer at the center. His brilliance was such that even at the mere age of forty, he
was one of the top researchers in the program, and while it was clear that some of his colleagues
resented him for his success, he never paid much attention to their pointed remarks or barely
concealed jealousy.

“What are you working on?” she asked, walking over to him to look down at the potion. It was
emitting a faint, blackish-blue smoke that smelled rather disgusting.

“Oh, you know, one of my pet projects,” Damocles said, looking up and giving her a slight, toothy
grin. “This one is more like a hopeless dream, actually, as I’ve been working on it for years and
still haven’t figured out the right combination of ingredients and time for it to stew so it doesn’t
congeal in the final stages.”
As he spoke, the potion made a rather angry-sounding gurgle and darkened so that the smoke
coming from it became even more acrid. He sighed, extinguishing the flame beneath it. “There it
goes again. Ah, well, I should’ve gone home hours ago.”

“I was going to say that I didn’t think you were working today,” Lily said, smiling and stepping
back from the cauldron hastily to avoid inhaling any more of the smoke issuing from it. Damocles
gave her a mischievous smile as he stood up from his seat by the cauldron.

“No, well, my shift ended at six this morning,” he admitted. “But this is an off-hours sort of
project, you know. The center gave it up as a bad job years ago, but I’ve been working on it on my
own time ever since.” He took a vial from his pocket and carefully added some of the congealed
potion to it, stoppering it tightly before waving his wand to vanish the rest of the contents of the
cauldron.

“What’re you trying to brew an antidote for?” Lily asked curiously. She thought that the antidotes
which Damocles worked on were by far the most fascinating out of any of the other potioneers in
the department. Not only that, but she liked the way he made potions. His style was creative, like
her own, rather than formulaic, like many of the other older potioneers.

“Classified,” Damocles replied vaguely, though not unkindly. “Carmichael doesn’t like me to go
talking about it, even if he can’t stop me from keeping working on it on my own time. He says it’s
too political at the moment.”

Lily registered the note of frustration in Damocles’ voice as he spoke about their boss, which only
made her more curious. She’d never really taken to Carmichael, as she saw him as a strict,
traditional sort of man. She disliked the jokes he made about patients when they were out of
earshot but always made sure to be nothing but polite to his face, as he was the boss, after all.

“I’ll convince you to tell me one of these days,” Lily told him. “Then perhaps I could help.”

Damocles gave her a cautious, appraising sort of look, as if he wasn’t sure if she was joking or not,
or perhaps doubting if she could really be any help to him in developing the potion. Lily was used
to being given this sort of look, though it didn’t bother her as much with Damocles as when the
other senior potioneers gave it to her. With the others, they doubted her talent because she was
young and a witch, but with Damocles, Lily knew that he thought she was capable in general, but
as no one in the department really matched his brilliance, he doubted whether she’d be able to
figure out the potion if he couldn’t.

“Perhaps,” he replied mildly, and Lily smiled, turning away as he continued to pack up his
ingredients. Her eyes caught on a bright purple flower next to his station as she turned, however,
and she paused, considering it. It was aconite, she knew, though they’d rarely ever used the plant as
an ingredient in any potions at Hogwarts. Another mystery to be solved.

Just then, Azar entered the room, looking frazzled. She was a young witch, only five years older
than Lily, with olive skin, an aquiline nose, and large brown eyes. Some of her thick, dark hair was
escaping from her bun and falling in wisps around her face, and when she spotted Lily, relief
spread across her features.

“Oh, Lily, thank goodness!” she exclaimed, looking ready to hug her. “You chose the perfect day
to come in early. There was an outbreak of scrofungulus last week, you know, and apparently,
some idiots started selling bogus potions to treat it from home. Now we’ve got people with
poisoning symptoms right and left, and I could use an extra set of hands to help brew the
antidotes!”
“Of course,” Lily said, rolling up her sleeves. “What kind of poisoning are we talking about?”

As Azar rattled off a long list of symptoms and told Lily of the Healer’s speculations of what
could’ve been in the responsible potion, Lily nodded, drawing out ingredients from the store
cupboard as she listened. Over the course of the year she’d been there, she’d gotten very good at
the Healing side of potion-making: learning how to listen to a list of symptoms, help determine
causes, and dream up potions that may help. As it turned out, the Antidote Research Center’s job
wasn’t just to develop new antidotes. In fact, Lily spent a great deal of her time brewing up cures
for already treatable illnesses. Of course, many were still experimental, and most were rare, as the
standard cures were well-stocked in St. Mungo’s.

Lily liked it, however, though the trust the department put in all of the people who worked there
sometimes astounded her. With experimental treatments, something that Lily or any of the other
potioneers designed to help a patient could very easily make a problem worse, as they were
untested. Still, in the year that she’d worked there, Lily hadn’t yet killed anyone with a potion
she’d made, and she counted that as a definite win.

Azar had warned Lily in her first week of working at St. Mungo’s about this very real possibility.
“Sometimes it’s just part of the job,” the older woman had told her. “And it’s not because you
slipped up or did anything wrong, either, not most of the time. Sometimes, everything about the
theory is right, but the person just reacts to it wrong for some reason and they die. It’s awful, but
it’ll happen to you one day, too.”

Lily dearly hoped that that day wouldn’t come for a very long while. She’d had to wrap her head
around the idea of killing people when joining the Order of the Phoenix, had to realize that she was
fighting a war and someday, a Death Eater would likely die by her hand. That was one thing, but
she didn’t want to have to deal with killing someone innocent by accident, too.

The day was hectic, with Lily spending the first hour and a half brewing the antidotes with Azar,
then testing them on some of the people in the packed waiting room. As it turned out, these
weren’t all of the people who’d been affected by the poisoning, as others were in much worse
condition in the hospital beds. Only when the patients began to show symptoms of improvement,
indicating that their potion was working, was Lily able to convince Azar to go home, an hour after
her shift had ended. After she’d left, Lily dealt with the new waves of patients still streaming in by
herself, alternating between brewing the potions and checking on the patients to make sure there
were no adverse reactions.

James sometimes checked in on her around dinnertime when she worked late shifts to see if she’d
eaten or brought her food, but this day he didn’t, and Lily guessed that he was just as busy as she
was at the moment. His rotation was currently on the second floor, and though Lily was extremely
glad to say that the potion that treated scrofungulus was well-stocked by the hospital, it was still
probably a nightmare with all the cases floating around. He did, however, come up to check on her
once his shift was over at seven, popping his head in long enough to realize that she was utterly
unable to hold a conversation with how busy she was, and giving her a quick kiss and departing.

At eight, Lily was relieved when Chris arrived for the beginning of his shift, which overlapped
with hers by two hours. Christopher Campbell, who Lily had only vaguely known of at Hogwarts,
had been on the Gryffindor Quidditch team from her second year all the way until he’d graduated,
two years before she had. She herself hadn’t made the connection until one night when she’d
mentioned James and he’d laughed aloud.

“You’re dating James Potter?” he’d asked, his voice full of incredulous amusement. “Last time I
saw him, he was a sixteen-year-old pain in my ass with an ego issue and a tendency to crash into
the goalposts when he got too focused on scoring.” Still, the affectionate nostalgia in his voice
belied his words, and when Lily had told him that James now worked at St. Mungo’s, too, he’d
insisted on immediately going down to see him, remarking jokingly that he was surprised that
James had managed to get and keep a steady girlfriend, especially one as sensible as Lily.

“Evening, Lily,” Chris said as he entered, sending her a smile. “From the disaster scene that’s the
packed waiting room, I gather that today’s been a lot to handle?”

“You can’t even imagine,” Lily said, breathing out a tired gust of air that blew some of the stray
strands of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail away from her face.

“I suppose I’m lucky that Andrew’s going to be here to help me for the night shift,” Chris said,
grinning slightly. “Though I might feel differently when he actually arrives at ten.”

Lily laughed, taking a moment away from her potion to redo her messy ponytail. “Put him to work
and just hope that’ll make up for the annoyance,” she said. “I still can’t believe you volunteer for
night shifts, Chris. After I finished training, I never looked back with those.”

Chris shrugged, smiling. “The hospital is usually quieter at night,” he said. “I like it better that
way.”

Lily smiled to herself. Privately, she suspected Chris’ preference for night shifts also had to do with
one of the Healers she often saw hanging around when she came in for early morning shifts. She
thought that his last name was Hornby, but knew nothing else other than the fact that she’d often
seen him visiting the office during Chris’ shifts.

“Well, your quiet night might be spoiled by Andrew’s whining,” Lily said. “I can’t say I blame him
for that, though. Do you remember how much of a whiner I was when I had to do night shifts?”

“I certainly do,” Chris replied, grinning. “Alright,” he said, rolling up his shirtsleeves. “What can I
help with?”

....

Lily managed to leave the hospital right at ten o’clock, to her relief, with the number of patients
dwindling in the later hours and Chris gently but firmly sending her on her way, telling her that he
had it all under control. She passed Andrew hurrying toward the office on her way out, but he
seemed not to even notice her in his haste to not be late. She smirked slightly but scolded herself
for it. The job was hard, after all, and she did have to give him some credit for not dropping out of
it already. He was supposed to be her ticket to more free time, too, so she always tried to be polite
to him, even when he irked her.

Still, just as Lily got off the lift on the lobby floor, the phoenix charm began to grow hot around
her wrist. “Oh, fuck no,” she groaned under her breath, moving towards the corner of the room and
trusting in the movement of Healers and patients around the lobby to conceal her from any prying
eyes as she checked the charm. It was her on-call shift for the Order, of course, which she shared
with Marlene, Alastor Moody, and Sturgis Podmore. Most shifts, however, she didn’t get called in
to do anything. Tonight was apparently not one of those lucky times.

The back of the phoenix read: DE presence reported near MoM visitor entrance. Investigation
requested. There were no coordinates this time, as there often were, but Lily knew where the
Ministry of Magic visitor’s entrance was, and she took a deep breath, taking a moment to gauge her
preparedness. She had her work bag with her, which wasn’t ideal, so she quickly headed toward the
nearest bathroom. Once inside, she cast a featherlight charm on her bag and shrunk it so that it’d fit
into her coat pocket. She closed the buttons of her coat securely, then made sure that her ponytail
was still tight, too. Once she was satisfied that she’d done all she could to ready herself, she exited
the bathroom and pulled out her wand, holding it by her side. Then, she turned on the spot,
disappearing into the compressing darkness on her way to the Ministry of Magic entrance, all the
while steeling herself for what she might find there.

When Lily appeared in the alleyway outside of the visitor’s entrance to the Ministry, there was
already a full-scale fight going on.

“Took you long enough!” Marlene shouted to Lily as she shot a stunning spell at the Death Eater
she was dueling. Lily raised her wand and shot a full-body bind curse at him as he dodged
Marlene’s spell, and this one connected, causing him to fall to the ground stiff as a board.

“Thanks,” Marlene said, shaking her sweaty hair out of her eyes and giving Lily a quick smile.

“Of course,” Lily replied quickly, now turning towards the other masked figures in the alleyway
who Sturgis Podmore and Alastor Moody were dueling.

Lily pointed her wand at one of the men’s backs and cast another full-body bind, but the man
moved out of the way at the last second, and, seeing the jet of light that had just missed him,
rounded on her. Lily raised her wand again and they began to duel, the masked wizard forcing her
backward as she dodged and deflected his spells. A jet of green light flew past her, missing her by
an inch, and Lily breathed out a gust of air in shock and fear, shooting another jinx at the Death
Eater in retaliation. This one found its mark, but being only an impediment jinx, Lily had just a
moment to collect herself. Luckily, Marlene came to her rescue, as Lily had come to hers earlier,
and stupefied the man from behind. He fell to the ground in front of her, his eyes closed.

There was a moment’s relief, where Lily smiled at Marlene and the other girl grinned back in the
way that they’d grown to share over the course of the past year during Order missions together.
Then, Lily saw another wizard in the background raise his wand, and her eyes widened.

“Marlene, duck!” she screamed, and Marlene, with the impeccable reflexes that she’d earned from
both Quidditch and Auror training, dropped to the ground and rolled as another jet of green light
flew just over her. Lily dodged out of the way, too, then aimed her wand at the Death Eater who’d
cast the spell. The force of her spell collided with him, sending him flying back against the brick
wall, which he hit with a loud crunching sound. Lily knew a brief moment of satisfaction as he fell
to the ground, unconscious, but the feeling faded as she saw the trickle of blood running down
from his temple.

She stood staring at him for another split second, her breath coming out in pants, then turned,
pushing the wizard from her mind as she ran to help Sturgis with another Death Eater. Her stunning
spell sent the Death Eater to the ground, too, collapsing with a startled noise, and Sturgis turned to
give her a smile.

“Nice one, Evans,” he commented. Lily grinned back at him, only rolling her eyes slightly at the
jokingly flirtatious note in his voice. Still, she didn’t have the chance to respond, because at that
moment a cloud of thick smoke seemed to fill the alleyway. Lily coughed, trying to wave it away
from her eyes, and squinted through the haze.

“What’s going on?” Sturgis called, though his voice sounded further away from her than it
should’ve.

“I don’t know!” Lily called back helplessly, trying to move through the fog, which felt strangely
heavy upon her body, as if she was moving through water. Someone bumped against her in the
darkness, and she was knocked to the ground. She reached around, trying to catch hold of whoever
it was, but they seemed to have disappeared. Lily’s blood ran cold. It must’ve been one of the
Death Eaters escaping. And if there was one who was able to move around and still had a wand,
perhaps even the ones the Order members had stunned would be able to get away.

Lily fought her way to her feet, but even as she did so, the smoke began to clear. In the distance,
she could see a figure with long blonde hair standing as if frozen in place, staring ahead of her,
where a slight figure in dark robes stood facing her. Lily squinted to see what Marlene was doing,
but before she could, the slight figure had turned on the spot and vanished. As he did so, the last of
the smoke melted away, and Lily was able to rush toward Marlene.

“Marlene!” she exclaimed, grasping Marlene’s arm and turning her, scanning down her body for
injuries. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Marlene’s blue eyes appeared troubled as she turned to Lily. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice bleak.
“It’s okay, Lily. I’m not hurt.”

Lily turned, distracted, looking around at their surroundings. The Death Eaters that had been laying
at their feet were gone, as she’d suspected. She looked toward the far wall, where the one she’d
sent flying back against it had lain, and found that he’d disappeared, too.

“They’re all gone!” she exclaimed, anger and frustration in her voice. “What was that smoke
thing? How did they get out of here so quickly?”

She turned to Marlene, her brow furrowing in confusion. “How did that last one get away, the one
who was near you? Did he do something to you?”

Marlene turned her guilty, tortured gaze onto Lily, then shook her head slowly. “I let him go,” she
admitted, her voice sounding hollow. Lily’s eyes widened and she stared at Marlene.

“You what?” she demanded, her voice low. From behind her, she could hear Moody talking to
Sturgis, helping him up from where he must’ve been knocked to the ground, too.

“It was Regulus, Lily,” Marlene said, her voice pleading, looking so different now from the fierce,
ruthless girl she’d been just minutes ago in the battle. She looked lost. “He pushed past me in the
smoke, so I grabbed at him and his mask came off.” She stared at Lily, her eyes wide and horrified.
“I just froze. I just…”

“Marlene, it doesn’t matter who he is,” Lily said, her tone a mixture of frustration and reluctant
sympathy, because after all, she did know why Marlene had frozen. “He’s a Death Eater. You can’t
just let him go.”

“I just—I just couldn’t,” Marlene said, her words full of shock at her own actions. “I don’t know
why, but I just couldn’t raise my wand and cast a spell at him. He—he’s just a kid. And Sirius…I
couldn’t do that to Sirius.”

“He’s of age,” Lily said, though there was no real conviction in her words as she said it.

The older she herself got, the more she realized how little she’d known about the world at the age
of seventeen. How was it that wizards expected seventeen-year-olds to shoulder so many adult
decisions? As for Sirius’ reaction, Lily had no argument to make at all. She knew as well as
Marlene that Sirius would be broken by the thought of his brother locked away in Azkaban.
Perhaps she, too, would’ve let Regulus go if it’d been her holding the wand in that moment, facing
him down. Lily sighed, shaking her head.
“Come on, Marley, we have to go talk to Moody and Sturgis.”

“Please don’t tell them about this,” Marlene begged Lily, her blue eyes frantic.

“I won’t,” Lily said heavily, reaching out her hand for Marlene’s. “I promise I won’t. But we have
to go, now, alright? Come on.”

Marlene, still looking shocked by what she’d done, took her hand and let Lily pull her towards the
two other members of their Order team. When they reached the two men, Sturgis was cursing and
Moody’s expression was very serious.

“They fucking got away!” Sturgis said, shaking his head. There was a bleeding cut on his left
shoulder which had torn through his robes, but he seemed unbothered by it, his face full of anger.
“We had them!”

“Why did they come here, anyway?” Lily asked Moody, her tone businesslike.

“Trying to break in, no doubt,” Moody said, his face betraying no look of alarm, though his tone
was grim. “For what purpose, I don’t know, but it can’t be good. We’ll have to alert the Ministry to
put up more security spells near their entrances from now on.”

Moody glanced at Marlene, who stood next to Lily, looking pale and not talking. “Are you
alright?” he asked, his eyes flickering from her to Lily and back again. Marlene nodded, though she
didn’t answer, looking as if she might throw up if she opened her mouth.

“We’re both fine,” Lily replied, glancing over at Marlene. “What was that smoke?”

“I don’t know,” Moody replied. “Just another trick up the Death Eaters’ sleeves, no doubt. We’ll all
have to report this to Dumbledore, come on.”

Lily nodded and looked over at Marlene again. She met Lily’s gaze, and Lily was relieved to see
that some of the color was returning to her cheeks. Perhaps the thought of facing Dumbledore had
made her realize that she needed to pull herself together.

“Together?” Lily asked, holding out her hand for Marlene’s, indicating that they could apparate to
the safe house where Dumbledore was waiting in unison. Marlene nodded, grabbing on, and the
two witches turned together on the spot into compressing darkness.

....

An hour later, Lily apparated back into the dark hallway outside James’ and Peter’s flat in London.
She knew she should’ve been more careful—what if one of their Muggle neighbors had been
unlocking their doors at that moment?—but she was exhausted. Reporting the incident to
Dumbledore had taken far too long, as he’d asked for every detail of the fight from all of them. It
didn’t help matters that Lily’s mind kept flashing back to the man who’d crumpled against the far
wall after being hit by her spell, blood running down his temple. He’d disappeared, though, so that
had to mean that he hadn’t been dead…didn’t it? What bothered her more than anything was how
quickly it’d all happened, and the feeling of satisfaction that had rushed through her in the second
after he’d crumpled to the ground. Could it really be that easy for her to kill?

Lily sighed, unlocking the door with a quick spell. It was late, but when Lily entered she found that
Peter was in the kitchen, looking up at her in surprise. “Hi,” she said, giving him a small smile.
“Sorry to barge in unexpectedly so late.”

“It’s fine, James was worried about you when you didn’t turn up earlier,” Peter said, shrugging,
and looking her up and down in concern. “What happened to you?”

“Death Eaters,” she said, realizing that she must look awful. The mysterious smoke had left a light
dusting of gray powder all over her clothes, hair, and skin, and her tired eyes and messy ponytail
only added insult to injury. “And an eleven-hour shift, too, I suppose.”

“Is everyone okay?” Peter asked, his eyes widening. Lily nodded tiredly.

“Yeah, Sturgis got a nasty cut but he’s alright, and the rest of us got no more than a few bruises,”
she replied. She didn’t mention the fact that both she and Marlene had narrowly missed getting hit
with killing curses. “They were trying to break into the visitor’s entrance of the Ministry, though,
so that’s worrying.”

“That’s bad,” Peter said, frowning. “I wonder what they were trying to do.”

“I have no idea,” Lily said, sighing. “Listen, Peter, is it alright if I use your shower? I’m wiped out
and I just want to sleep.”

“Yeah, of course,” Peter said.

“Thanks,” Lily said, walking off towards their bathroom, and he gave her a slight wave as she
passed him.

Lily stripped as soon as she closed the door behind her, turning on the faucet and stepping under
the spray. She was so tired that she forgot to wait for the water to heat up, and winced as the cold
droplets struck her skin, but didn’t bother to move away. She rinsed off, washing her hair only
briefly before stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around herself. She’d become so
comfortable in this place that she spent more nights here than in her actual flat with her roommates.
Sometimes she felt a bit guilty about imposing on Peter, but he never seemed to mind her presence.
Quietly, Lily exited the bathroom through the door that led to James’ room, which was dark. She
could hear his slow, deep breathing, and tiptoed toward the dresser, which she opened to the drawer
that held her clothes in it.

She took out some underwear from her drawer but ended up choosing one of James’ t-shirts to put
on instead of one of her own. She magically dried her hair with a flick of her wand, making it far
too frizzy, but not truly caring enough to do anything about it that night. Then, she climbed under
the covers next to James.

He stirred as she burrowed in, and Lily saw his eyes flicker slightly open. Lily felt a little guilty
waking him, knowing that he’d gotten off his own eleven-hour shift only a few hours previously.
Still, James was usually good at falling straight back asleep after being woken in the middle of the
night, and since he had the whole next day off, he’d have more time to rest.

“Good morning,” James said blearily, looking over at her. Lily laughed softly.

“It’s not morning yet, love,” she said.

“Why are you in so late, then?” James asked, blinking some of the sleep out of his eyes. “I thought
you were coming over after work?” There was no reproach in his voice, just curiosity, with a tinge
of worry. If he’d been more awake, Lily knew that his worry would’ve been much greater, as
James’ anxiety had grown considerably in the past year.

“I was called in for the Order,” Lily replied softly. “Death Eaters.”

James straightened up slightly, looking alarmed. He scanned her face, cupping her cheek with his
 hand. “Are you alright? What happened?”

“I’m fine,” Lily reassured him, her hand coming up to cover his. “We’re all fine, don’t worry. The
Death Eaters are getting bolder, though. They were trying to break into the Ministry of Magic.”

“Fuck,” James said, settling back down onto his pillows and staring across at her. “That’s not
good.”

“No, it really isn’t,” Lily replied tiredly. She sighed and burrowed her head deeper into her pillow.
“I’m so tired.”

“Sleep, then,” James said, giving her a soft smile and running a hand along her hair, his hand
tracing lightly over her face and brushing the scar on her left cheekbone that she’d earned in her
first-ever mission for the Order, when she’d been burned badly leaping into a fire to fight the
Death Eaters. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”

“Alright,” Lily said, her eyes already beginning to drift closed. She really was exhausted. Even so,
her mind couldn’t help going back to the fight, to the man with the blood trickling down his
temple, and to her promise to Marlene to keep the fact that she’d let Regulus Black escape a secret.
Sometimes Lily thought that her Hogwarts self wouldn’t recognize her these days, wouldn’t
recognize the person who did these things, who made these decisions without batting an eye.
Sometimes, she felt like a completely different person from who she’d been only a year ago, the
girl who’d never seen anyone die and never even contemplated the fact that she herself might kill
someone someday.

“You’ll always love me, won’t you, James?” Lily asked, her voice blurred with sleep, unguarded as
she searched for an answer that would reassure her that no matter how hard and cold she got while
fighting this war, he’d still be there.

Through her half-closed eyelids, she saw that his eyes had fluttered shut again, too, as he drifted
back off into sleep. Still, Lily didn’t miss the reply which left his mouth in a soft sigh before they
both fell into unconsciousness:

“Always.”

Chapter End Notes

And that’s my fun little uno reverse for Snily (ew) shippers (not that any of them
would be reading this).

Also, I’ve been getting so many new kudos and comments recently, thank you all!! I
saw someone recommending my fic on TikTok and my heart just burst with happiness,
so thank you so much!!! I believe I owe many of my new readers to you <3
 1979: I Don't Wanna Miss A Thing
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Don't want to close my eyes

I don't want to fall asleep

'Cause I'd miss you, babe

And I don't want to miss a thing

- "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing," Aerosmith

James was woken the next morning by a tickling sensation on his nose. He sneezed and opened his
eyes to see a blur of red in front of him. He smiled and batted away what he assumed was a strand
of Lily’s hair, then rolled over onto his other side and grabbed his glasses from his side table. As
he did so, he remembered the previous night: Lily’s late arrival, the way he’d paced around waiting
for her for hours before going to bed, her climbing into his bed and telling him about the Death
Eater attack. Anxiety washed over him again, but he put his glasses on and turned back to look at
her, and the sight made all worries disappear from his mind.

Lily was laying on her side facing him, her cheek resting against the pillow, her red hair splayed
out across it. Her mouth was slightly open, too, and she seemed to be drooling. James grinned,
trailing a finger over a lock of her messy waves which had made their way over to his pillow. It
was amazing, really, that even with her hair only at shoulder length now, it could still manage to
take up far more space than should be physically possible. Her shorter hair reminded James of how
it’d looked during their sixth year at Hogwarts, in those days when she’d only first started not to
hate him, and he started to learn who she really was, rather than just who she presented to the
world. These days, though, she usually kept it in a ponytail, which James only appreciated because
of the satisfaction it gave him to tug it loose, and the way that it made the sight of her in the
mornings with her hair messy and flowing across the pillows all the more special.

The burn scar on the left side of her jaw was new, too, a product of their first Order mission, when
she’d run straight into the flames to help protect the Muggles without hesitation. That had been
before they really got into this life of calls and missions and attacks, and before her green eyes had
developed a hard glint in them. It was the inevitable product of a year of struggle and war, James
thought. Those green eyes had witnessed more death in the past year than ten average people
combined would ever witness in their lifetime. Despite it all, however, her green eyes had never
lost the familiar sparkle that James loved so much.

As if on cue, Lily’s eyes blinked open, and she closed her mouth, looking up at him. She looked so
untroubled just then, as if she didn’t yet remember anything that had happened the night before.
Her green eyes still held the haze of sleep in them, but she gave him a slight, pleased smile as she
looked up at him, as if waking up next to him was enough to make her whole day. James’ breath
caught in his throat as he looked down at her, giving him that smile. At that moment, James
thought that this was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen in his life: Lily, bleary-eyed in the
morning, wearing his t-shirt and smiling up at him, no worries yet troubling her mind.
“Good morning,” she said, her voice sleepy as she rubbed her eyes, looking a little more awake,
now. She seemed to register the way he was gaping at her only then, and her brow furrowed.
“What’s up?” she asked, looking at him curiously.

He just blinked down at her, his lips slightly parted, not quite able to gather his thoughts. He didn’t
know why the sight of her had overwhelmed him just then, as she was there by his side most
mornings. Perhaps it was the fact that she’d been on an Order mission the previous night, and he’d
stayed up late worrying over her before collapsing into his bed, exhausted by both work and his
anxiety over her absence.

Her words from the previous night echoed back into his mind: You’ll always love me, won’t you,
James? she’d asked him just before he drifted into sleep, when he’d only been half-conscious of
her question, and of the answer he gave: Always. Still, it was true. All of his fool romantic notions
in fifth year about her being the only girl for him had turned out to be right in the end. He felt like a
fifteen-year-old again, seeing Lily for the first time on platform nine and three-quarters after a
summer apart, and realizing how beautiful he thought she was. Only this time, she was lying next
to him in his bed with tousled hair, drool on her chin, and morning breath, and he found her more
beautiful than ever.

“James?” Lily asked, propping herself up onto her elbow now and looking at him with concern in
her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said, finally able to speak again. He blinked at her, still feeling a little startled and
trying to regain his grip on reality. “Everything feels very, very right, actually.”

Lily tilted her head at him, looking slightly amused and far less concerned than she’d been a
moment before. “And what does that mean?”

“I—I don’t know, really,” James replied, staring at her. “I just—” He broke off, reaching towards
her to cup her face in his hand, his thumb resting on the burn scar on her jawline. Despite all the
other changes in her over the last year, her cheeks hadn’t lost their fullness or their color. She still
looked like a painting of contrast to him, all beautiful strokes, hues, and contours. This was the
woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

“Lily?” he asked, his voice tentative.

“Yes?” Lily returned, smiling slightly at his odd behavior, even as she leaned into his touch as he
continued to cup her cheek. James fought to find the words, hoping that if he said them in the
gentlest, quietest way possible she might not run away, something he hadn’t worried about with her
since their seventh year at Hogwarts.

“If I ask you something scary, will you promise not to run away?” he asked. She furrowed her
brow, looking somewhat confused and a tad petulant.

“I’ve never run away when you’ve asked me a question,” she said. He raised his eyebrows at her,
and she rolled her own green eyes. “Fine, I promise.”

James took a deep, steadying breath. “Will you marry me?”

Lily’s eyes grew wide, almost popping out of her head in shock. She stared at him for a moment,
then sat up and tugged the covers with all her might so she might wrap them around herself like a
cocoon. James rolled off the bed as some of the covers were yanked out from under him. He let out
a startled “oof!” then pushed himself to his knees and looked over the side of the bed at her. She
was fully cocooned in the blanket, now, with only her face visible, and was sending him a fierce
glare.

“Well, that wasn’t a no,” James joked lightly, climbing cautiously back onto the bed to sit across
from her and shivering slightly in the morning cold.

“You can’t just ask me to marry you!” Lily exclaimed, still glaring at him from her cocoon.

“Why not?” James asked, tilting his head at her in confusion. Lily seemed to search around for an
answer, but came up with nothing satisfactory, as she simply declared:

“Because!”

“Because what?” James asked, smiling now. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Lily. I
woke up this morning, looked at you from across the bed, and realized I want to wake up next to
you every morning until the end of time. Why shouldn’t I ask you to marry me?”

Lily seemed to be a bit mollified by that because her cheeks reddened and she only mumbled in
response: “Because.” James grinned at her.

“I love you,” he said, moving over beside her and wrapping his arms around her, blanket cocoon
and all. “You know that, right?”

“Yes,” she replied almost mutinously, her voice muffled by the blanket and his arms. He smiled
wider, though she couldn’t see it. She was the cutest thing he’d ever seen in his life.

“And you know that I’ve loved you ever since I was seventeen,” James continued. From what he
could see of her face in the blanket, she seemed to nod. He smiled again. “You’re the one for me,
Lily. What’s the use in waiting?”

She didn’t reply, so he moved back in front of her again so that he could see her face. Her eyes
were still huge, and she was biting her bottom lip, looking troubled. He reached up a hand to cup
her cheek and gave her a reassuring smile.

“You don’t have to give me an answer right now,” he said. “Hell, I don’t even have a ring to give
you yet. I just needed to ask you.”

Lily looked up at him, and James thought he could see the clouds of doubt and fear part in her
green eyes for a moment to reveal something brilliant, even joyful. She nodded. “I just need some
time,” she said. James grinned at her.

“Take all the time you need,” he said. She kept looking at him, worrying her lip in a way that was
absolutely adorable and really quite sexy, too, as he continued to smile down at her.

“What if I asked you to kiss me, then? Would that be less scary?” he asked, a note of teasing
humor in his voice, and Lily smiled even as she was rolling her eyes at his joke. In a quick
flourish, she flung off her covers, leaning forward to pull him towards her, his body flush against
hers, for a kiss.

....

“Is it me? Did I do something wrong?” James asked three weeks later as he walked down the
cobbled road of Diagon Alley with Dorcas and Marlene.

“Jaysus, James,” Marlene exclaimed, rolling her eyes. “You told Lily that she could take all the
time she needed!”
“Yeah, but I thought that meant like a couple of days,” James said worriedly. “Not a couple of
weeks.”

“She’s still trying to wrap her head around it,” Dorcas said wisely from beside Marlene. “Try not to
worry, James. You know how long it took for her to accept her feelings and get together with you
in the first place.”

“That’s not very comforting,” James muttered under his breath. Marlene rolled her eyes and gave
him a light smack on the back of his head.

“Stop being a brat,” she scolded him, sounding very much like his mother at that moment. “She’s
going to say yes, but the more you scurry around her looking all nervous, the longer it’ll take her
not to be anxious about it, too.”

“So it is me,” James said, landing on that point and clinging to it like a drowning man with a
lifeboat. Dorcas sent Marlene a quelling look, then turned back to James.

“It isn’t about you, James,” she said. “You just have to be patient.”

“That’s just a nicer way of saying don’t be a brat,” Marlene muttered under her breath. Dorcas gave
her another pointed glare. Marlene returned her look with interest, rolling her eyes.

“At least you can get married,” she muttered under her breath. Both James and Dorcas turned to
stare at her, then, and Marlene turned slightly red. “What? I’m just saying.”

Just then, she became very interested in the display at Quality Quidditch Supplies and moved to
enter the shop, leaving James and Dorcas staring after her. James turned to Dorcas, regret written
all over his face.

“I’m sorry, Dee,” he said. “I didn’t even think.”

“It’s fine, James,” Dorcas said, shaking her head. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her. She’s never
—” She glanced towards the display window, where they could both see Marlene determinedly not
looking in their direction inside, examining a pair of Quidditch gloves far too closely. “She’s never
said anything like that before, not to me, at least.”

“About how you two can’t get married?” James asked, tilting his head to the side. “You’ve never
talked about it?”

“No, not really,” Dorcas said, shrugging, though there was a slight frown on her face. “I mean, I
suppose I might’ve mentioned it off-hand once or twice, but not in any—well—real way, you
know. I mean, we’re nineteen, after all.”

She glanced over at James, then, seeming to realize what she’d said, backtracked immediately.
“Not that I think you and Lily are too young to get married, I just never imagined that I—oh,
bugger, I’m making this all worse for you, too, now, aren’t I?”

James laughed and shook his head. “It’s fine,” he said. “Really, it is. I know nineteen is young to
get married. It wasn’t even that I planned to ask Lily when I did, it just sort of seemed to be the
right moment. Not for her, though, I suppose.”

Dorcas shook her head and gave him a playful nudge with her hip, smiling. “Look, I don’t always
agree with Marley’s tough love approach, but in this case, she’s sort of right,” she said. “You’ve
got to stop worrying and feeling sorry for yourself. Lily’s worrying over this enough for the both of
you. It’s practically all she’s talked about every time I’ve seen her in the last three weeks.”
“What’s she been saying?” James asked, his ears perking up. Dorcas gave him a playful glare.

“You know I don’t betray confidences,” she scolded. “Ask her about it yourself.”

“I just don’t want to make her feel pressured,” James mumbled. “I don’t want to keep bringing it up
if it’ll only stress her out.”

“She knows you’re thinking about it,” Dorcas pointed out. “You’re not exactly subtle, James. And
if you ask me, she knows exactly what she wants to say, she’s just terrified at the prospect of
actually saying it. You bringing the topic up again might be exactly what she needs.”

“You think so?” James asked, feeling a bit more hopeful. Dorcas looked over and grinned at him.

“I do,” she said. “You got the ring, right?”

“Yeah,” James said, flushing slightly as he reached into his pocket and took out the small black
box that he’d been carrying around with him for the past three weeks, and opened it to show
Dorcas the ring inside.

After Lily had rushed off to work the morning when he’d proposed to her, he’d apparated to his
parents’ house. Euphemia, though surprised to see her nineteen-year-old son turn up unannounced
on her doorstep, had ushered him in, made him a cup of tea, and demanded to know the whole
story. She and Fleamont had listened patiently as he’d told them what had happened, Euphemia
beaming and clasping her hands in excitement and Fleamont giving James a proud smile. Euphemia
had then waved away James’ concerns that Lily might say no with a dismissive hand and beckoned
him into her room where she’d opened her jewelry box and presented him with her own
engagement ring, which, if all went well, would soon belong to Lily.

“It’s beautiful,” Dorcas said, examining the ring closely before looking back at James. “Lily will
love it.”

James smiled nervously, looking down at the ring himself. His mother had shown it to him before,
of course, when he’d been younger, as she told the story of how she and his father had gotten
engaged. As a small child, James remembered wondering how something so small could mean so
much to her. He’d also wondered why his father, with his grand inheritance, hadn’t gotten her
something showier, but now he understood. Huge, eye-catching diamonds had never been his
mother’s style, and neither were they Lily’s. The ring was simple, with a thin band made of two
intertwined strands of gold and a small diamond cradled between the place where they met in a
knot.

“I really hope so,” James said, snapping the lid closed and replacing it in his pocket. “My mum told
me that it’s charmed so that it will fit itself perfectly to the wearer. Good thing, too, because
otherwise I’d probably get her ring size completely wrong and get her a ring that wouldn’t fit.”

Dorcas laughed. “It’s just like your mum to think of everything,” she said with a smile.

“She was about ready to start planning the wedding as soon as I told her that I’d proposed,” James
said, running a sheepish hand through his hair. “I kept telling her to slow down, as Lily hasn’t even
said yes yet, but she’s hearing none of it. You know how much she adores Lily.”

“Who wouldn’t?” Dorcas asked, smiling. “And anyway, your parents both knew that Lily was the
one for you the first moment they heard you talk about her. Anyone hearing you speak about Lily
would know that; you’ve been besotted ever since fifth year. It’s not like they’d ever dream of
disliking someone who makes you so happy.”
James huffed out a laugh. “I suppose you’re right,” he said. “I wonder if Lily’s told her dad about
me proposing yet.”

“Knowing Lily, I think she won’t tell him until she’s given her answer,” Dorcas said. “But you
don’t have to worry about Mr. Evans, either. He liked you the first moment he met you. You’ve
also got the advantage of not being Vernon Dursley. That man lowered the bar considerably for
any future sons-in-law.”

James grinned. “I don’t know why this is making me feel better when it just feels like you’re
insulting me,” he said. Dorcas grinned back at him.

“I’m trying the Marlene technique,” she said. “Just with a tad more tact.”

“Tact is overrated,” Marlene interjected, rejoining them as she exited Quality Quidditch Supplies.
She looked a little more cheerful than she had when she’d entered the store, so perhaps she’d
decided to put aside her annoyance with James for the moment.

“We haven’t played Quidditch together in so long,” Marlene continued, changing the subject to
whatever she’d just been thinking about when browsing the store as they began to walk slowly
down the street again. “I’m seriously getting withdrawals. We’ve got to organize a game soon.”

“That sounds good,” James replied, giving her an amused look. “Though you might have to work a
miracle to find a day when we all have time off. Especially since you and Sirius are now on
different training schedules because Moody thinks you’re distracting each other.”

Marlene made a face. “He’s such a grump,” she said, rolling her eyes at the mention of her
instructor. “We joke around sometimes, sure, but anyone can see that we only do it because we’re
waiting for the other trainees to catch up.”

“I’m sure,” Dorcas said sarcastically, shooting her girlfriend a smile.

“Don’t pretend you don’t love Moody, anyway,” James said. “I know from both Sirius and Lily
that you’re his little protégé, both in Auror training and on Order missions.”

Marlene rolled her eyes again, but James knew that she was trying not to look too pleased with the
observation. “He’s taught me a lot,” she conceded. “Doesn’t mean he’s not still a pain in my arse.”

“When do you have to leave for training this afternoon, then?” James asked her, checking his
watch. “I thought you said you only had a bit of time.”

“Trying to get rid of me?” Marlene inquired, raising her eyebrows playfully at James. “I don’t have
to leave until one.”

“Marley,” Dorcas said in slight concern. “It’s five till.”

Marlene’s eyes widened. She grabbed James’ wristband and tugged it towards her. “Oh, bollocks,”
she said, releasing him hastily once she realized that her girlfriend was right and leaving James to
rub at his wrist in slight reproach. “I guess I’d better be off, then. Moody’ll skin me alive if I’m
late again.”

“Don’t forget this,” Dorcas said, holding out a hair tie for Marlene. Marlene, whose dirty blonde
hair was just as long as it’d been at Hogwarts, always forgot to tie up her hair when going into
training or an Order mission alike and always complained about it being in her face. Dorcas, James
had noticed, had begun to wear a hair tie on her wrist to account for Marlene perpetually forgetting
to bring one for herself.
“Jaysus, thanks,” Marlene said, grabbing the tie from Dorcas and hastily putting up her hair in a
ponytail. “I can’t believe how fast I lose these.”

“I can,” Dorcas said, smiling. “See you later tonight, then?”

“Of course,” Marlene said, leaning down to give Dorcas a quick kiss on her cheek. “I’m cooking
tonight, remember?”

“I won’t touch the stove without you,” Dorcas promised, grinning. Marlene beamed at her, then
gave James a wave before turning on the spot and disapparating off to the Ministry.

“She’s still not letting you cook?” James asked, amused. Dorcas laughed and shook her head.

“No, she plans it out very well so that we always have enough leftovers,” she said. “I don’t really
blame her, though. She’s a much better cook than I am.”

“Me and Lily just order in a lot,” James admitted, “since we’re both hopeless at cooking.”

“At least neither of you is poisoning the other,” Dorcas remarked, grinning. Her expression turned
serious, however, and she glanced over at James. “I’m sorry about Marley’s bad mood.”

“She wasn’t that bad,” James said, waving her apology away. Dorcas shrugged.

“Yeah, she’s gotten a bit better,” she conceded. “She’s just been off for a few weeks, ever since—
well…” She trailed off, but James knew what she wasn’t saying.

“She told me, you know,” James said, glancing down at Dorcas. “About letting Regulus go.”

“Did she?” Dorcas asked, looking up at James in relief. James nodded.

“Yeah, two weeks ago,” he replied. “I could tell that it’s been eating her up inside.”

He gestured towards a bench on their right, and they moved towards it to sit. “Yeah, it has,” Dorcas
said heavily once she’d sat down beside James. “She keeps going back and forth, feeling guilty
about letting him go. I wish she could just stop thinking about it. What’s done is done.”

“Do you think she did the right thing?” James asked Dorcas, raising his eyebrows. Dorcas sighed,
slumping slightly in her seat.

“Objectively, probably not,” she said. “But if I were in that situation, I might’ve done the same
thing. I don’t know.”

“I don’t know, either,” James admitted. “She hasn’t told Sirius about it, has she?”

“No,” Dorcas said, shaking her head. “You didn’t tell him, did you?”

“I didn’t,” James confirmed. “Marley asked me to promise not to, so I haven’t. I don’t know that
it’s best for him to know, anyway.”

“It’d be the first news about Regulus he’d have gotten in ages, wouldn’t it?” Dorcas asked, looking
at James with a troubled expression on her face. James sighed and nodded.

“As far as I know, Sirius has heard nothing from him or about him since we graduated,” he said.
“This would hardly be good news, though, would it? Seeing Regulus at a Death Eater attack means
he’s deep into it, just like he was before we left school.”
“True,” Dorcas said. “Though he didn’t try to curse Marlene any more than she tried to capture
him. That’s something, I suppose.”

“I suppose,” James said, shrugging noncommittally. He’d long given up on the notion that Regulus
could be saved from whatever path he was going down, and had told Sirius as much in their
seventh year. Perhaps this was part of the reason he didn’t want to tell Sirius about Marlene’s
encounter with Regulus. He thought Sirius was better off not spending all of his time worrying
about his brother and hoping to save him. Sirius deserved more than that.

“You’re making a face,” Dorcas pointed out, raising her eyebrows at him. James sighed.

“I just don’t want Sirius to backslide, you know? He’s got a good thing going for him right now. If
all the stuff with Regulus and his family gets dragged up, I’m worried that he’ll spiral again. I was
worried about it when his father died, but luckily he seemed okay after that. But if Regulus…” He
trailed off, not sure exactly what he thought would happen. Clearing his throat, he said gruffly: “I
don’t want that for him.”

Dorcas nodded, looking thoughtful. “You’re probably right,” she said. “But it might get dragged up
no matter what you do, James.”

“I know,” James said, sighing. He hated that feeling: the lack of control. That was the feeling that
had made him spiral into a well of anxiety in the past year. “The other thing, though, is that I just
don’t think Regulus can be redeemed. No matter whether he hesitated to curse Marley or not, he’s
been with the Death Eaters for almost two years, now. Who knows what he’s done?”

Dorcas shivered slightly, and James guessed it wasn’t from the cold. They sat in silence for a
minute, both lost in their own thoughts. James was still thinking about Regulus, and what would
happen if he decided to come back from the Death Eaters. Sirius would forgive him, surely, even
after everything he’d done, but would Dumbledore? Would the Ministry of Magic? Whose blood
had stained Regulus’ hands in the past year?

James was broken out of his thoughts by Dorcas’ voice, changing the subject. “What time do you
have to be at the hospital for your next shift?”

He blinked, his eyes refocusing on her. “Uh,” he said, trying to remember for a moment.
“Midnight,” he answered finally. “I have the twelve a.m. to twelve p.m. shift.”

“Merlin,” Dorcas said, shaking her head sympathetically. “That’s not going to be good for your
sleep schedule.”

“What sleep schedule?” James asked, laughing bitterly. “My internal clock is completely broken at
this point, Dee. I sleep when I can.”

“Well, I have to be in at four tomorrow morning,” Dorcas said, grimacing at the thought. “So my
shift will overlap yours by a couple of hours. Maybe we can hang out if it’s not too busy. You can
keep me awake with crossword puzzles.”

“I’ll be sure to bring some along,” James said, grinning. “In the meantime, I suppose I’ll just try to
see how long it takes Wheeler to notice that I’m throwing bits of paper into his coffee again.”

“You really have to stop doing that,” Dorcas admonished him, though she was giggling as she said
it. They both hated Ted Wheeler, one of their fellow Trainee Healers in his fourth and final year of
his training, who was one of the most aggravating people they’d ever met.

“Do you realize how much he had to have pissed Healer Shimek off for her to put him—a senior
Trainee Healer—on the night shifts for a week?” James asked, laughing. “The only downside is
that I now have to spend time with him, too.”

“I was on the night shift with him two nights ago,” Dorcas said, grimacing. “So trust me, I feel
your pain.”

“What are you going to do until your shift, then?” James asked her.

“I’ve got to clean the flat,” Dorcas said. “That’s the deal with Marley. She cooks, I clean.”

“Even though it’s mostly her mess?” James asked, grinning.

“A lot of it’s mine these days, actually,” Dorcas admitted sheepishly. “Keeping things tidy has
taken a backseat with so much work.” She sighed and turned to James. “What about you? How will
you spend the next ten and a half hours before you have to go back to Mungo’s?”

“I’m planning on taking a nice, long nap,” James said, smiling. “Then Lily said she’ll come over
for dinner after her shift ends at six.”

“Good,” Dorcas said, shooting James a pointed smile. “You can talk to her.”

James sighed, shaking his head in amusement, not only at Dorcas’ directness, but also his own
stubbornness and dread at the thought. It was quite ridiculous how much he was anxious about
talking to Lily about the subject of his proposal. It was just Lily, after all.

“I suppose I will,” he said. “The nap will help. I always have better words after I get some sleep.”

“I wonder why,” Dorcas said sarcastically, standing up from the bench and smiling down at him.
James stood, too.

“See you later, then?” he asked.

“Bright and early,” Dorcas replied, faux cheerfully. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” James said, giving her a nervous smile and knowing she wasn’t referring to his
overnight shift.

....

Four hours later, James was woken out of a deep sleep by a soft rapping, which sounded far away.
His half-asleep brain dismissed the noise, and he was just falling back into his doze when he heard
the sound of a doorknob turning, and footsteps. He jerked bolt upright, his hand reaching for his
wand on his side table, then caught sight of the clock on the wall, and reality came back to him. It
was 6:10 p.m., and Lily had come over, just as she’d promised. No one was breaking into his flat
other than his girlfriend, who’d let herself in hundreds of times before. Still, James had to take a
deep breath to calm his racing heart.

Lily pushed James’ door ajar and stepped inside. Her gaze caught on him, tangled in his covers,
looking up at her with wide eyes and a hand in his tousled hair. A worried crease formed between
her eyebrows.

“Is something wrong?” she asked. James let out a deep huff of air that he hadn’t realized he’d been
holding and shook his head.

“No, I just forgot for a moment that you were coming over,” he said. “I heard footsteps, you know,
and—”

“I’m sorry,” Lily said, walking over to sit down next to him on the bed and cupping his cheek in
her hand. Her palm was soft against his skin, and James leaned into her touch. “If you don’t want
me to let myself in anymore—”

“No, I want you to let yourself in,” James reassured her. “You know me, I just—well…” He trailed
off, not wanting to finish the sentence. He didn’t have to, anyway. They both knew how much he’d
been struggling with his worry and panic over the course of the last year. Lily also knew that
James felt ashamed about how much he’d been affected by being in the Order. After all, he
thought, they were all in the same boat, and it seemed like everyone else was managing fine, not
waking up from nightmares in a cold sweat and jumping at every noise.

When James’ eyes refocused, he saw that Lily was giving him a small smile. He let his hand drop
from his hair and returned it. He’d seen Lily only two days before, but still, he’d missed her in their
time apart.

“Hi,” he said, giving her a quick kiss. She smiled, kissing him again, then pulling back slowly as
she opened her eyes to look at him.

“Hi,” she echoed back to him, and James felt slightly dazed, luckily no longer thinking of his
earlier panic.

“Sorry I wasn’t awake when you came in,” James said. “I meant to set an alarm clock, but I
suppose I forgot.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lily said, smiling. “I’m glad you got some sleep.”

“Are you tired?” James asked. “Because if you want to sleep—”

“Surprisingly for doing two eleven-hour shifts in two days, I’m quite awake,” Lily said. “I could
eat, though. I’m pretty hungry.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” James said, cursing himself again for not waking up earlier. He swung his
legs out of bed and got to his feet, realizing as he did so that he hadn’t bothered to undress when
he’d fallen into it, just lay down in his normal clothes. He offered Lily his hand and pulled her to
her feet, gesturing for her to follow him back into the kitchen. Peter was still at work, closing up
shop in Diagon Alley, so the flat was empty but for the two of them.

“Do you want to order in or make something?” James asked, opening his fridge and examining the
contents critically. Lily shrugged, moving to sit on the counter, observing him as he searched.

“Either way,” she said. “What do you have on hand?”

James opened the freezer, pulled out a frozen pizza, and held it up for her to see. She smiled, and
he laughed. “Yeah, that’s about it,” he said, closing the freezer.

“Sounds good to me,” Lily said, smiling. “Just as long as there are no olives on it. I hate olives.”

“Just pepperoni,” James said, shooting a smile back at her as he turned the oven on to preheat it.
“It’s alright to put in while it’s preheating, right?”

“Why not?” Lily said, shrugging again. James couldn’t see why they shouldn’t, so he placed the
pizza in the oven, then turned to look at Lily again.
“Now we wait,” he said. She smiled.

“Now we wait,” she repeated. A slightly awkward silence fell between them as they looked at each
other. After a few long moments of eye contact, James felt his cheeks begin to heat slightly. He
looked away, up towards the fridge, where a truly ridiculous-looking drawing Sirius had made of
James at fourteen—with antlers protruding from his head and a panicked look plastered onto his
face—was tacked. He had to smile a little bit at that.

“I know I’ve been taking too long to give you an answer,” Lily said, and James’ head snapped back
forward to stare at her. She looked hesitant, her pale face pinched with nervousness as she gazed at
him. “I know you must’ve been going crazy wondering what I was thinking. I’ve been going crazy
wondering what I’m thinking, too.” She gave him a small, nervous smile. James moved towards
her and reached to take her hands in his.

“It’s alright,” he said. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” Lily said, meeting his eyes. “If I were you, I would’ve been worried out of my
wits waiting for what you were going to say. Marlene and Dorcas didn’t say much, too, but I could
tell that they’d talked to you about it.”

James gave a noncommittal shrug. The last thing he wanted to do was tell Lily how much it’d
infected his thoughts, day in and day out. He didn’t want to scare her off from giving him an
answer just seconds away from finally getting it.

“I was worried that we might be rushing into this,” Lily continued after James didn’t reply to her
earlier statement. “That we’re too young to get married, and we’re crazy just thinking about it.”

James raised his eyebrows, and Lily blushed, as if realizing how her words had sounded. “I don’t
really think that, though,” she amended. “It’s just that I’ve been worrying about what I should do,
what’s the right and logical thing to do, that I’ve been distracted from what I want to do. Maybe
the right and logical thing isn’t to get married at nineteen, but how can it be wrong when all I want
to do is say yes?”

James straightened up, his anxiety ebbing away, a broad smile creeping onto his face as he looked
at her. She stared at him, eyes wide, as if she was overwhelmed by the enormity of what she was
saying.

“How can it be wrong when I can imagine so clearly spending the rest of my life with you?” Lily
asked, a slight smile creeping onto her face. “If everything inside of me is telling me to say yes,
why shouldn’t I do it?”

“Say yes,” James begged, beaming down at her, all worries about putting too much pressure on her
or making her nervous fleeing his mind. “Oh Merlin, Lily, please say yes!”

Lily blushed and looked down at her hands before glancing back up at him. “Yes,” she said
quietly. “I’ll marry you, then.”

James reached forward to wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her to him in a hug before
pulling back to press a kiss to her lips. Lily made a slight noise of surprise in her throat, then
smiled into the kiss, deepening it and reaching up to tangle her hands in his hair. James smiled into
her mouth, too. He’d always loved how Lily liked to stroke his hair, both when they were kissing
and in every moment in between. He remembered so clearly the first time she’d ever done it, when
they’d both been drunk at the first Quidditch match afterparty of their seventh year. That night,
she’d said that she’d always wanted to play with his hair, and she’d proved that declaration by
running her hands through his unruly locks at any chance she had ever since.

His hands found their way under her blouse, and he traced the smooth skin and folds of her back,
one hand running up the line of her spine, another grasping at her waist. Lily gasped into his
mouth, and James took this momentary break in contact to move his lips down to her neck, where
he kissed his way toward a spot he knew was extremely sensitive, and began to suck on it. Lily’s
breathing became loud and breathy, the sound like sweet music in James’ ears. The hand that had
been holding her waist moved towards her front, trailing along her stomach before moving up
toward her breasts. Just then, Lily gasped, a sound which sounded more like panic than pleasure,
and he drew back, looking around in confusion before he discovered what the problem was.

A slow stream of smoke had begun to issue from the oven, and now that James was paying
attention he realized the room already smelled of smoke, something he’d been too preoccupied to
notice before.

“Shit,” he said, reaching forward to turn off the oven. He hesitated before opening it, but when he
did, a cloud of smoke came billowing out, blurring his vision and making his eyes begin to tear up.
Grabbing his wand from the counter, he cast a quick freezing charm on the smoke alarm, then
directed his wand towards the oven, clearing the smoke in an instant. Lily leapt down from the
counter and kneeled beside him to look at the sad, burned remnants of their dinner in the oven.

“This is just pathetic,” James lamented. “A frozen pizza. We ruined a frozen pizza. That’s about
the easiest thing to cook ever.”

Lily shook her head, though she was smiling slightly. “It is slightly pathetic,” she admitted,
standing up. James slid the pizza out of the oven with oven mitts and placed it in the trash, which
belched slightly as it received the burnt offering. He turned back to Lily, who gave him a smile.
Her lips were slightly swollen, and there was a red mark on her neck where his lips had been.

“One of us is going to have to learn to cook,” she said, grinning at him. “And it’s not going to be
me unless you want the both of us poisoned.”

James let out a long sigh and grinned at her. “I’ll do it,” he conceded, rolling his eyes. “It really
can’t be that hard, can it, if you really put your mind to it? I was good at Potions.”

Lily laughed. “I’m a potioneer and I can’t cook for the life of me,” she pointed out. “But I have
confidence in you.”

“Thanks, love,” James said, laughing and pressing his lips to her temple, drawing her closer.
“Maybe in the meantime, we could drop by my parents’ for dinner? My mum told me to drop by
sometime this week, and she always makes extra. I’m sure they’d love—” he emphasized the word,
grinning down at her, “—to hear our news.”

Lily burst out laughing, shaking her head at his goofiness. “You already told them, didn’t you?”

“I told them I proposed, yeah,” James admitted, smiling. “What can I say, you always knew I was a
mamma’s boy.”

“And is your mum already planning, then?” Lily asked, her cheeks still pink from her laughter,
grinning up at him. James smiled.

“I told her not to,” he said. “But I can’t make any promises.”

Lily smiled. “Well, I’d love to go over to theirs for dinner,” she said. “Let me just vanish this mark
you’ve undoubtedly left on my neck first, though.” She pulled out her wand, aiming it at the bruise,
 and muttered a careful spell. After a moment, her skin began to wipe itself clean. She smiled at
James, stowing her wand away.

“Alright, then, I’m ready,” she said. She held out her hand for his, but James had just remembered
something. He clapped himself on the forehead, almost laughing at his own stupidity.

“What?” Lily asked, raising her eyebrows.

“I almost forgot,” he said. Reaching into his pocket for the ring box, James got a sudden urge to do
this formally, like he hadn’t gotten a chance to before. So, grinning at her all the while, he lowered
himself onto one knee and took the box out of his pocket, holding it up to her.

“Lily Evans,” he said, smiling at her. She looked a little bit exasperated and slightly confused, no
doubt wondering why she was getting another proposal, but smiled down at him all the same.
James opened the box to reveal the ring inside. “Will you marry me?”

Lily’s eyes widened as she looked down at the ring in the box before her gaze flicked back up to
his, and she positively beamed at him. “I will, yes,” she confirmed, and James, grinning goofily,
stood and kissed her again. After he’d drawn back, he took the ring out of its plush cushion and
held it out to her. She extended her hand, smiling down at it as he slid it onto her ring finger.

“Do you like it?” James asked a little nervously. Lily ran her hand over the diamond on the ring,
set in its gold cradle, and smiled up at him.

“I love it, James,” she said. “Where on earth did you get it? I’ve never seen another engagement
ring like it.”

“It was my mum’s,” James said. “She gave it to me to give it to you when I told her that I’d
proposed.”

Lily looked up at James from her ring again, and this time, tears filled her eyes. She blinked them
away quickly but beamed up at James, and James didn’t need her to tell him why she was crying,
now. A year and a half after her mother’s death, Lily still talked about Amelia Evans often, though
now the pain wasn’t so immediate, it was often memories of joy she shared with him. Now,
however, with the reality of her engagement and the fact that only James’ mother, and not her own,
would be able to congratulate her for it, there was bound to be grief.

“You’ll always have her with you,” James said quietly. “You know she’d be proud of you.”

Lily gave him a small smile, though there was a little doubt in her gaze, too, as if she wasn’t sure
he was right. Still, when James offered his hand to her, Lily took it, all trace of sadness wiped from
her face as they moved toward the door, ready to apparate to Blacksmith Hill.

Chapter End Notes

Wow, I just realized that I just hit the 400,000-word mark. Yikes.

The asshole Trainee Healer Ted Wheeler is not a reference to the Stranger Things
character, he’s named after Portland’s mayor. Get fucked Ted :)
 1979: Way Down We Go, Part 1
Chapter Notes

cw: mentions of abuse and violence

Smoke billowed around him, obscuring his sight and making his arms and legs feel leaden. Shouts
rent the air, some full of surprise and some containing muffled directions, lost to his ears. He
stumbled blindly, trying to get his bearings. He collided with a warm body and stumbled back. As
the smoke began to clear, he made out her figure: long, loose blonde hair, blue eyes shining
through the darkness, pale freckled skin. She’d raised her wand when they’d collided but was now
lowering it, a look of shock on her face. A shock of recognition rushed through him, too, along with
a rush of fear—

“Oi, Black, wake up!” a rough voice rang through his dream, and Regulus’ eyes flew open, startled
out of his sleep in a cold sweat. He blinked in the light that streamed in through his curtains and
looked up to see John Selwyn staring at him, a look of disgust on his face.

“What?” Regulus asked, sitting up and trying to collect himself, blinking again. His heart was
beating fast, and he could feel the remnants of shock and fear from the dream still coursing through
him.

“The train is leaving in an hour,” Selwyn said, his contemptuous look not budging as his eyes
trailed over Regulus’ sweaty face. “Thought you might not want to miss it.”

He walked away, back towards his bed across from Regulus’, on which Regulus could see his open
bag, which he was packing. Regulus sighed, then jerked his curtains shut again, needing another
moment to collect himself without Selwyn there to sneer at him. He took several deep breaths and
used the hem of his shirt to dab at the sweat on his face. Regulus had had nightmares ever since
he’d been a child, but these days, they’d become even more frequent. Since Regulus had joined the
Death Eaters, scenes from his assignments, which he pushed out of his mind in waking hours, came
back to haunt him in his dreams.

His roommates hadn’t failed to notice his nighttime hauntings, and they only reinforced the idea in
their minds that Regulus was weak. Amycus Carrow and his sister Alecto, of course, had always
hated Regulus, and he hated them in return. But even Barty and John, who Regulus hadn’t minded
in their early years at Hogwarts together, had grown to look down upon him since their fifth year.
John, who’d been a rather dull and dim-witted boy when they’d been younger, had transformed
into a cruel bully in recent years. Barty, who’d always been intelligent and cunning, had turned his
gifts to honing the group’s cruelty to a fine point and made sure they never got caught.

Of course, none of this had mattered much to Regulus until their fifth year. At the beginning of
their fourth, Regulus had decided to get a taste of the freedom his brother Sirius had always
enjoyed, making friends with some students from blood traitor families, though he’d always tried to
keep these alliances relatively quiet. However, this had all ended when the Dark Lord had come
recruiting from Slytherin in the middle of his fifth year, and Regulus had joined the Death Eaters.
Then, he’d been forced to drop what the older Slytherin boys had called his “unsavory ties.” The
lengths that Regulus had had to go to prove the other Slytherins’ mutterings about him false still
tore at Regulus’ conscience.
Regulus squared his jaw and opened his curtains once again, swinging his legs out of bed and onto
the cold floor of the dungeons. He didn’t wince at the contact, however, but strode past Selwyn
into the loo they shared, ignoring both Barty and Amycus on his way, too. There, he splashed water
onto his face and hurriedly brushed his teeth. He should’ve been up hours ago, and had no doubt
missed breakfast, but no one in his dormitory bothered to wake him these days: they all couldn’t
care less. He was actually surprised that John had deigned to tell him that the train was coming
soon.

Still, they had to put up with him because they had to present a united front to the rest of the
school, who viewed them as a group no matter what they did. So Regulus sat with them in classes,
at mealtimes, and in the common room when he wasn’t studying or playing Quidditch, because he
had no one else, anyway. He ignored their veiled hostility, and they ignored him, which suited him
well enough.

His eyes caught on his face in the mirror, briefly meeting his own grey gaze, then looking away
quickly. He knew what he’d see if he examined his reflection closely: his hollow cheeks,
cheekbones more prominent than they should be, grey eyes haunted. It was no wonder the other
boys in his dormitory looked down upon him, as he knew he looked weak. The months of little
sleep, his lack of appetite, and shame had eaten away at him.

Regulus sighed and moved away from the sink, opening the door to rejoin his roommates to pack
and dress. He wasn’t looking forward to returning to Grimmauld Place for Christmas; in fact, he
didn’t want to go back at all. However, he’d been obligated to, not only because it was easier to get
out of his house than Hogwarts castle to go on missions with the Death Eaters but also because his
mother would be all alone for the holidays if he didn’t.

He’d received his mother’s letter informing him of his father’s death in the first week of the term.
It’d been short and cold, and Regulus had responded in kind. He hadn’t grieved much for his
father, though the news of his death had been a shock. They’d never been close; Orion had never
paid Regulus much attention at all. Still, Regulus had attended the funeral along with the rest of his
family. The ceremony, too, was short and cold, and no one had cried. Regulus found himself
thinking of Sirius the whole time, and how he’d always said their father didn’t have a heart.
Clearly, Orion Black’s heart had existed, and yet it’d still failed him in the end.

Regulus spent the train ride looking out the window at the rolling hills and thinking about what
would meet him when he got home, to the dark, spacious house now only occupied by his mother
and house-elf, Kreacher. When the train stopped in King’s Cross Station, Regulus left without a
word to his roommates and apparated away quickly from the platform, knowing no one would be
there to pick him up that year. Before he turned on the spot, he caught sight of a sandy blond head
in the crowd, and the look on the other boy’s face made Regulus grateful for the compressing
darkness as he apparated away.

Landing on the front step of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, Regulus heard the familiar clicks
of the house unlocking itself at his arrival, and opened the door. It creaked as he shut it again
behind him, and the sound of the door closing echoed in the oppressive silence. Soon, Regulus
heard the scurrying of footsteps, and Kreacher appeared before him, bowing low.

“Hello, Kreacher,” Regulus said, smiling as he looked down at the elf, the muscles in his cheeks
twitching slightly from lack of use. After Sirius had left their house, it was only Kreacher who
Regulus didn’t dread seeing when he came home. Regulus knew that his brother had felt
differently, but Regulus could hardly blame him: the house-elf had never liked Sirius much, either.

“Does Master Regulus need help taking his things back up to his room?” Kreacher asked. “Or
would Master Regulus like Kreacher to make him some food?”

“I can take my things up to my room myself, thanks,” Regulus answered politely. “But if you could
bring me some food there, that would be much appreciated, Kreacher.”

Kreacher bowed low again and made to scurry off, but Regulus called him back. “Is my mother
home?” he asked, his voice stiff with duty. Kreacher nodded.

“My Mistress is in the drawing room, Master Regulus,” he said. “Mistress will be glad to see you
again.”

“Thank you, Kreacher,” Regulus said, giving him a nod and another smile. Kreacher bowed and
left to go to the kitchen.

Regulus looked down the hallway, steeling himself, then moved towards the entrance hall,
beginning to mount the staircase slowly. When he reached the first floor, he set his bag and owl
cage down on the ground and knocked on the door. There was no answer. He knocked again.

“Enter,” came his mother’s voice from inside after a moment, and he opened it, looking around.
His eyes adjusted slightly to the dimness of the room, and then they fell upon her. She was
standing, back straight, staring at the tapestry on the far wall. She looked mesmerized, and Regulus
wondered how long she’d been there.

“I’m home, mother,” Regulus said, his voice echoing slightly in the dusty room. She turned
slowly, as if dragging her gaze away from the family tree was an effort. When she looked at him,
she smiled but didn’t approach.

“Regulus,” she said. “How was your journey back on the Hogwarts Express?”

“It was fine,” he answered shortly.

“Good,” she said. “I am glad that you decided to come home this year.”

“I’m glad to be home,” Regulus lied, avoiding her gaze. “I’m going to go and settle in my room if
that’s alright. I’m tired.”

“Very well,” Walburga responded, already turning back to the family tree on the wall. “Get some
rest.”

Regulus didn’t respond, just left the room and closed the door behind him, leaving his mother to
her preoccupation with the family tree. It’d shrunk considerably over the years since he’d been a
child, due to his mother’s penchant for blasting people off of it when they disappointed her. He’d
seen her first remove Andromeda from it, then Sirius, then his Uncle Alphard. He was glad he
hadn’t been around to witness that explosion, at least. Still, since Sirius left, Walburga had lost
some of her fire, too. If Regulus didn’t know better, he’d think she missed his older brother, though
Walburga had always hated Sirius. Regulus supposed that without him there, there was nothing to
channel her anger into, and without it, she seemed strangely hollow.

When Regulus entered his own room, he glanced around it quickly before placing his bag down on
his bed. He placed his owl cage on his desk and unlocked it, allowing his grey owl, Icarus, to
flutter out and perch on top of his wardrobe. Regulus’ eyes scanned over his walls, taking in the
green and silver hangings, the family crest, and the clippings from the Daily Prophet articles about
the Dark Lord. He’d put all of this up in the year after his brother had left in his anger at Sirius for
his desertion, and his determination to distance himself from his older brother. It was this
determination that had brought about Regulus’ fixation with the Dark Lord. He drank in Lord
Voldemort’s promises, his vision of a world in which wizarding culture would be protected, and
dreamed of his own future by the Dark Lord’s side, living up to the ideal that his family had
always wanted from him.

Of course, there had been moments, many of them, where he’d faltered. There had been many
moments when he’d lowered his wand rather than cast a curse, and he’d been punished for these
lapses. When Marlene McKinnon, one of Sirius’ friends from school and the daughter of a
prominent pro-Muggle-born politician in the Ministry of Magic, had faced him two months ago
and lowered her wand, he should’ve taken that moment to curse her, but he’d fled the scene
instead. In this instance, he escaped reprimand due to the billowing smoke Dolohov had set off,
which hid his cowardice from the other Death Eaters.

In other moments, Regulus had worked harder to prove his loyalty despite his failings, and these
haunted him still more. When he’d joined the Death Eaters, Regulus had supposed that a lifetime
of growing up in a house where violence was commonplace would make doing his part to fight for
Voldemort’s cause easy, but he’d been wrong. Instead, he’d discovered that he feared enacting
violence upon others much more than being hurt himself. He hated to watch the destruction
wrought by the Death Eaters, and couldn’t stand being the one to do it himself. This was the
cowardice and shame that ate him up inside: the knowledge that he couldn’t be good enough for
his family, he couldn’t do his duty, no matter how hard he tried.

Sirius had always been good at anger, good at lashing out and hurling insulting words across the
dinner table at his parents. He’d been good at violence, too, shattering and breaking things in his
room and fighting in school against people he deemed his enemies, most of whom had been
Slytherins. It was strange that the thing that had made Sirius leave their family was what would’ve
made him a better heir than Regulus could ever be, Regulus thought.

There was a knock outside his door, and Regulus moved to open it. He looked down to see
Kreacher on the threshold, holding a tray of food in his small hands.

“Thanks, Kreacher,” Regulus said, allowing Kreacher to pass him and place the tray on his desk.

“Is there anything else Master Regulus requires?” Kreacher asked, bowing low again. Regulus
shook his head.

“No, there’s nothing else,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Master,” Kreacher said, bowing himself out of the room.

Once the door was shut behind him, Regulus turned toward the food and sat down at his desk.
There was soup, bread, and a chicken leg on the tray. Kreacher had overestimated Regulus’
hunger. Regulus managed to eat half of the soup, and the slice of bread. He didn’t touch the
chicken, instead allowing Icarus to swoop down and strip the meat off the bones. When he was
finished, he threw himself down onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling. His room was smaller than
his brother’s, which still lay abandoned across the hall from his. He hadn’t been back into it since
Sirius had left, though he’d often longed to open the door many times but always held himself
back. As far as Regulus knew, his parents hadn’t set foot inside it either, not in almost four years.
They both avoided it as if frightened of the ghosts it might contain.

A sharp, burning pain interrupted Regulus’ musings, and he sat up quickly, looking down at his
left forearm, where the skull and snake were branded. It was glowing red, and Regulus leapt to his
feet. There was no question in this: whenever it burned, he had to go to Lord Voldemort’s side or
suffer the consequences. Opening his door, he strode out onto the landing and hurried down the
stairs two at a time. As he did so, he conjured his Death Eater mask to conceal his features, the
metal sticking to his skin, cold and heavy. Then, ignoring Kreacher, who’d poked his head out into
the hallway curiously, hurried down the hall to the front door, where he exited quickly before
turning on the spot into thin air.

Regulus reappeared in the middle of a field, in a place he knew. Up on the hill, Regulus saw the
outline of a manor house. He’d come here several times as a child—it was where his cousins had
grown up. His aunt and uncle still resided here, and though neither were Death Eaters, they were
clearly happy to host the Dark Lord if he asked. In front of him, Regulus saw a circle of other
wizards and hurried towards them, taking his place between John Selwyn and the Carrows.

In the center stood Voldemort, standing tall and facing away from Regulus. As more wizards slid
out of the shadows to join the circle, the Dark Lord began to look around the circle, his eyes
flicking slowly from one face to the next. Regulus looked down as Voldemort’s eyes fell on him,
unable to meet their red depths. He suppressed the shudder that went through him and only looked
back up once he felt the Dark Lord’s gaze shift past him around the circle. He caught sight of
Bellatrix, her dark hair escaping her hood, almost directly across from him in the circle, but her
eyes were fixed on Voldemort, and she didn’t look his way.

When the circle was complete, Voldemort spoke. “Welcome, my friends,” he said, his voice high
and cold. “It has been too long since we last met. To see all of you again, gathered like this, gives
me renewed hope for the future we will build together.” His voice was cold, but it still held the
promise of a politician, the words going through all of them like a tonic.

“Though our efforts to capture the Ministry of Magic have so far been futile, we have other
avenues to exert our efforts,” Voldemort continued. “The Ministry will bend to our will by force,
make no doubt about it. They are soft-hearted fools who yield easily to threats, I promise you.
They will see how much better we can make the world.”

Regulus wondered if that was true. So far, despite multitudes of Muggle attacks, the Ministry
wasn’t yielding to the Dark Lord’s demands. They fought back with all their might, with the help
of Dumbledore and his Order of the Phoenix. Still, perhaps after a while, they’d falter, as the Dark
Lord had said.

“Until then, however,” Voldemort continued silkily, “I have continued my own pursuit of the goal I
have shared with you all, to explore the limits of magic as we know it. I have journeyed far in my
goal to conquer death, and you, my Death Eaters, have been invaluable in this quest to better
wizardkind. To this end, I ask a favor from one of you.”

A shiver seemed to pass around the circle as all the Death Eaters waited to hear what sort of
sacrifice this request would require. Voldemort, ignoring this, continued on. “I require a house-elf
to assist me in the next step of my journey. And I thought to myself, one of my loyal Death Eaters
will no doubt be happy to volunteer their servant to assist me.” Voldemort’s gaze flew around the
circle, eyes boring into each person in turn. Many of the men and women around Regulus shifted
restlessly on their feet.

Regulus’ mind whirled. This was more than he could’ve hoped for. This was something he could
offer Voldemort that neither Selwyn nor the Carrows could, which wouldn’t even require him to
kill or curse anyone, as he’d already proven himself to be lacking in those areas. This was a way to
protect himself and convince the Dark Lord of his loyalty without much effort on his part at all.
Whatever Voldemort needed a house-elf for, he was sure Kreacher would be able to perform the
task well, and would indeed be happy to do so. He stepped forward and knelt down in front of
Voldemort.

“My Lord, it would be my honor to offer my family house-elf to do your bidding,” he said, bowing
his head, still afraid to meet the red eyes above him. “I can send him to you whenever you require
assistance.”

There was a pause, and Regulus kept his head bowed. He felt Voldemort’s cold red gaze upon him.
The rest of the circle was deathly silent, as if they were all holding their breaths. Finally,
Voldemort spoke.

“Look at me,” he said, and Regulus slowly, hesitantly, raised his head to look into Voldemort’s red
eyes. Voldemort’s head was tilted slightly to one side, considering him. A small smile curved his
thin lips, as if he was amused by what he saw.

“Very well,” he said after a moment. “Send the house-elf to me this evening. I will put it to use.”

“Thank you, My Lord,” Regulus said, bowing his head again and standing up back into the circle.

Beside him, Selwyn seemed to slump, appearing shorter than he’d been moments before. Amycus,
on his other side, shot him a covert glance that Regulus knew must be full of envy and dislike, but
Regulus ignored him, standing tall. He knew that this would only make them hate him more than
ever, but it was useless to try to appease them or pretend that they weren’t all competing for
Voldemort’s approval in the end. Regulus had just gained another moment of that approval, and
with it, another moment of safety. They, in turn, had fallen behind.

....

When Regulus got home that evening, he didn’t wait but headed straight to Kreacher’s bedroom in
the kitchen. When he knocked on the door, Kreacher opened it with a look of surprise on his
wrinkled face but sat attentively while Regulus explained what he needed from the elf. When
Kreacher disapparated obediently, off to join Voldemort, Regulus watched him go with only a
slight feeling of trepidation. Then, he sat to wait.

It was a long night. Regulus didn’t go back to his bedroom but stayed in the kitchen to wait for
Kreacher’s return. He wasn’t sure that his task for the Dark Lord would take a single evening, as
Voldemort hadn’t specified the timeframe, and yet he waited. As the early hours approached,
Regulus’ anxiety grew. The longer Kreacher had been gone, the more Regulus wondered whether
this act of loyalty was really as easy as he’d imagined. Why had none of the other Death Eaters
volunteered their house-elves before him? Many of them had them, but it was he who’d stepped
forward after a pause to volunteer Kreacher. Even Bellatrix had held back.

Regulus’ mind whirled. Had he sent Kreacher into danger? The house-elf was Regulus’ family,
after all. He’d paid Regulus much more attention as a child than either of his parents, and after
Sirius had gone—first to Hogwarts, then for good—Kreacher had been Regulus’ only companion.
Strange as it might be, the thought of losing the elf pierced Regulus much more than the loss of his
own father ever had.

As the night dragged on, Regulus’ eyes grew heavier and heavier, but the fear that built as each
silent second ticked by kept him awake and watchful, sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for the
elf. He wondered vaguely how he’d explain to his mother where Kreacher was when there was no
breakfast on the table that morning. Then, he wondered whether Walburga was even eating at all,
judging by her frail frame.

It was four in the morning when a crack rang through the kitchen and Regulus was startled out of
his dark thoughts to see Kreacher, sopping wet, gasping, and shaking on the floor of the kitchen.

“Kreacher!” Regulus exclaimed, hurrying towards him and crouching down on the floor beside the
elf, eyes wide and shocked. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“Master Regulus,” Kreacher wailed, still panting and staring around at the kitchen, eyes wide and
scared. “Master Regulus, Kreacher c-c-came home!” With that, he retched, and more water was
expelled from his mouth, forming a small puddle on the kitchen floor. Regulus’ panic grew, and he
quickly drew out his wand and pointed it at Kreacher’s throat.

“Anapneo!” he said, and Kreacher stopped retching, his airways cleared. He still lay on the
ground, however, panting and crying. Regulus brandished his wand towards the puddle of water
and bile the elf had heaved up and vanished it. Then, he stared at Kreacher. He didn’t know if he
should touch the elf to comfort him, or if this would make everything worse, so he didn’t move. He
just sat next to him, staring at him in concern as Kreacher continued to weep and pant on the floor.

After about ten minutes, Kreacher’s pants subsided, and he allowed Regulus to cast a drying and
warming spell on him, though he continued to cry. Regulus also managed to get Kreacher into a
sitting position, and when Kreacher asked for water, Regulus gave him a goblet to drink from. It
was only when he stopped crying, however, that Regulus finally felt comfortable inquiring about
the night’s events again.

“Kreacher, I need to know everything that happened tonight,” he said, staring earnestly at the elf.
“Can you do that for me?” Kreacher nodded, took a deep breath, and launched into his tale.
 1979: Way Down We Go, Part 2
Chapter Notes

cw: major character death, self-injury, depictions of past abuse and violence,
internalized homophobia, also this would probably be considered suicide

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Finally, the truth. Regulus’ finger strayed along a line of text in one of the dusty volumes in the
Black family library. It’d only been a measly forty-eight hours since Kreacher had come home
from the cave, sopping wet and crying. After hearing his story that day, Regulus had done nothing
but search for answers. He’d searched for some explanation of what had happened to Kreacher for
hours after hours in his mind, in the clippings above his bed, in the books in their library. And
finally, he thought he’d found it, in what was probably the oldest and darkest book he could get his
hands on: a section on Horcruxes.

Regulus looked up, letting the book fall to the table, a slight groan issuing from its pages as it did
so. He paid it no attention, however, as he was staring across the library at the mark on the wall
that had mysteriously appeared there when he’d been seven, though not really seeing it. Here was
the truth, after all these years, and it was more than just the answer to why Voldemort cared so
much about protecting the locket he’d dropped in the basin after making Kreacher drink the potion.
It told Regulus more than he needed to know—more than he even wanted to know.

Regulus understood, then, in the place where he’d absorbed so many of his parents’ and tutors’
teachings in his childhood, that what he’d believed his whole life about the world was truly and
utterly wrong. Regulus had fixated on Lord Voldemort, who he’d believed would bring about his
family’s vision of an ideal world. He’d joined the Death Eaters to fight for this vision, but really,
it’d always been about power. Power for Voldemort, for his Horcruxes, so that he’d never be
defeated, never die. Power for Regulus’ family, who’d risen through the ranks of wizarding society
through violence and cruelty, and who wanted to keep their place in the hierarchy. And power for
people like Bellatrix and John Selwyn, for Barty Crouch and the Carrows, who enjoyed looking
down on the people they killed and knowing that they had the ability to inflict that kind of pain, to
deal out death.

Regulus felt nauseated, disgusted. He shut the book with a snap, not wanting to see its yellowed
pages anymore, which told of such gruesome things. Still, the information was in his head, still
infecting him. He knew now what he’d never understood before, what he should’ve learned long
ago. He’d joined an organization called the Death Eaters, but he’d never really processed what that
meant. What he’d always refused to acknowledge was now staring him in the face: he’d joined the
group that killed and reveled in it. They created death, and they fed on it to gain power, and there
was no other purpose for them greater than that. They’d never believed in all the speeches, never
thought that they were creating something better, never cared about what they’d said about
preserving wizarding culture and values. No, it’d always been about destruction, death, and out of
it, power.

And Regulus was a part of it. He’d dealt out death and destruction and benefited from it. He’d
hated himself for not being able to make more. An old, lined face flashed before his eyes: a
Muggle man he’d killed in a raid, his eyes blank and staring, sightless. A girl’s: her cheek bruised,
tears streaming as she looked up at her attackers, defiant yet scared, black hair hanging in her dark
blue eyes. A boy’s: his brown eyes swimming with tears, sandy hair a mess from all the times he’d
run his fingers through it, screaming at him. Sirius’ face: sweaty and pained and pleading, staring
at Regulus on the night that he’d left home, when Regulus had told him to leave and never come
back.

“What have I done?” Regulus whispered, his mind going blank with horror. “What have I done?”
He pushed back his chair, its legs scraping the floor with a protesting screech, but he ignored the
sound, standing and beginning to pace.

All of those things, all of those things he’d done for Voldemort, for the Death Eaters, for his
family, for so many reasons and causes that he now realized were worthless and meaningless…the
reasons had dissolved into sand which trickled through his fingers and fell to the floor. And yet he
couldn’t go back and undo them, now. He couldn’t make up for them. He could try to wash the
blood from his hands but it would stick there, unyielding.

Somehow, that thought brought clarity. It quieted the voices in his head, the memories of all the
horrible things he’d done for nothing, to know that there was no possible way that he could fix
them now. He could only go forward. Of course, the more he thought about it, the more he
realized that the future wouldn’t be a bright one, not for him. But it gave him a place to start.

As if he was obeying a silent command, Regulus stopped pacing and grabbed the book off the
table, replacing it on its dusty shelf and striding to the door. He walked out onto the landing, then
hurried up the stairs to the fourth floor. Nothing in the house stirred—even the portraits were
asleep—as it was still the early hours of the morning, before dawn light shone through the
windows and illuminated the dusty floors.

When Regulus reached the fourth-floor landing, he turned, not left towards his bedroom, but right,
approaching the closed door that led to Sirius’ room, his footsteps slow and cautious. Reaching out
a trembling hand, he grasped the doorknob and turned it. It was cold, but it yielded to his pressure,
and the door creaked open, allowing Regulus entrance. Regulus looked around from the doorway,
taking in the sight of the room that he’d avoided for four years. The last time he’d set foot here had
been the night that his older brother had left the house, never to return. Regulus had been fourteen,
then, and Sirius sixteen.

In the years since, the room hadn’t changed much, only grown dustier and acquired an air of
abandonment. Cobwebs stretched across the upper corners of the room while dust bunnies lay
scattered across the floor. Regulus took a deep breath and stepped further into the room, looking
around as he shut the door quietly behind him.

Sirius’ decorations still hung on the walls, untouched from the last time Regulus had seen them:
the pictures of the Muggle women, the poster of David Bowie, and the Gryffindor banner. Regulus
still remembered the day that Sirius had put up these decorations: Sirius had been fourteen, and
Regulus only twelve. Regulus had sat watching while Sirius plastered his walls with these
decorations, which had been engineered to make their parents angry, and Sirius had played Regulus
Muggle music and told him about his friends at Hogwarts. Sirius had been punished harshly for his
daring that day. Regulus now knew the meaning of the word his father had spat at Sirius that day
when he’d seen his Bowie poster, which he hadn’t understood when he’d been twelve, and why
Sirius had flinched away from the word as if it’d burned him.

Regulus wandered to the bookshelf, running his fingers over the volumes in it, old textbooks that
Sirius had left behind. On the end of one shelf, there was a book whose title was obscured by a thin
strip of tape. Curious, Regulus pulled it out. The book cover read: The Lion, the Witch, and the
Wardrobe. Inside the front cover, Sirius had clearly crossed out the seal of a public library, from
which Sirius had presumably stolen the book, and written Property of Sirius Black in messy,
childish handwriting.

A wave of sorrow and affection rose up in Regulus as he saw the label. Sirius had always irked his
tutors to no end with his handwriting when they’d been children. After he’d come back from
Hogwarts, however, Regulus had spotted a letter he’d been writing to a friend, filled with neat
print, and he’d known that Sirius had only ever done it to piss off their parents, the same reason
he’d done many things back then. Regulus remembered the little excursions Sirius had made into
the Muggle world when they’d been children, which Sirius had always believed Regulus to be
oblivious of. Even after Regulus had asked him about it, however, Sirius had never given him a
proper answer as to why he wanted to explore Muggle London in the first place. For the first time,
now, Regulus felt like he had some grasp of why it’d been so important to his brother. Regulus
replaced the book on the shelf.

Turning to the bed, Regulus climbed onto it, ignoring the puffs of dust that rose up from the covers
as he did so. He crawled over to the far side and sat up on his knees to examine the picture which
was still stuck to the wall, the one that depicted four boys. Sirius was in it, much younger than
when Regulus had last seen him. There was Peter Pettigrew, small and mousy, next to James
Potter, messy-haired and overconfident. And finally, Remus Lupin, wavy-haired and reserved.

At the age of twelve, when Regulus had seen this photograph for the first time, he’d paid an
inordinate amount of interest to Remus’ face in the photo. He’d been so curious back then to know
what made this skinny, frail-looking boy important enough to Sirius to make Sirius look at him as
if he hung the stars in the sky. Years later, Regulus had heard the rumors, like everyone else at
Hogwarts, and he knew the truth. He’d never told his parents what he’d heard because while there
was a part of him that felt ashamed of his older brother, there was another part that was proud of
him. Regulus had never had the type of courage that Sirius did—the type that allowed him to stand
up, disregard what everyone thought of him, and decide to be with the person that made him
happy. Regulus could never be that brave.

The question was: what was he brave enough to do?

Regulus lay back onto the bedspread, again ignoring its musty smell and the dust that rose in puffs
from it and looked up at the ceiling, thinking hard. He knew that he had two options: in the first
scenario, he’d go on as he had been, continuing to serve Voldemort in the Death Eaters, and in the
second, well…

“In the second, I die,” he said aloud to himself, his voice echoing hollowly in the empty room.
Regulus swallowed, looking up at the spiderwebs that crisscrossed the ceiling of his brother’s old
room. He knew that Voldemort would never let him desert the Death Eaters and live. He’d be
hunted down, tortured, and killed for his disobedience, for his cowardice. And yet…

“I am not a coward,” Regulus said, sitting up quickly and staring out of Sirius’ window, which
showed a view of a shadowy brick wall, the building next to them dim in the early morning gloom.
Regulus stood up from the bed and began to pace again. He thought about all he’d been ashamed
of, all he’d believed about himself, and he understood. It was as if he’d pulled on a single stray
string in an ornate tapestry and was now watching the whole thing unravel before his eyes. Behind
the first truth he’d discovered there had been many more waiting for him in the dark, and now he
understood once and for all that the shame he’d carried with him had been nothing but a myth, too.

“Not wanting to kill and torture people doesn’t make me weak,” he said aloud, as if testing the
words on his tongue. They tasted bitter, made bile rise up in his throat, even, and yet he felt
stronger, too. Looking around at the room, he saw the marks on the floor and on the walls where
Sirius had thrown his books and belongings, in those days when Regulus would hear him yell and
scream and rage at everything. Regulus had thought that was what made Sirius better than him,
more courageous, and yet it’d tortured Sirius. He’d always said that Regulus was lucky to not have
inherited their mother’s rage, and Regulus had never understood him because he’d always seen the
anger as a show of strength, but now he knew that he’d been wrong.

He remembered all those times he’d seen Sirius broken before his eyes, all the times he’d heard the
screaming through the walls, which had been the background noise of his childhood. Sirius had
always thought that he’d protected Regulus from it, but it’d still reached him. Sometimes Regulus
had thought that he’d rather have taken his mother’s curse or his father’s belt rather than watch
Sirius in pain. Perhaps it was this same instinct that had made him lower his wand when he was
told to attack, preferring the punishment he’d get for holding back than having to witness someone
die by his hand.

“I’m not going back,” he said quietly, his footsteps stilling in the center of the room, feet planted.
He raised his head, looking back at the picture next to Sirius’ bed as if addressing his brother in it.
“I can’t do it anymore. I can’t be that person anymore.”

The Sirius in the picture kept laughing with his friends, not hearing Regulus, not knowing.
Regulus’ heart sank. Sirius wasn’t going to help him. He couldn’t speak to his brother through a
picture on the wall, and the real Sirius was lost to him, too. Perhaps Regulus had come into this
room so that he could pretend that his older brother was still helping him with this decision, but the
truth was, he had to make it alone.

Regulus stood for another minute in the center of the room, staring into space as he thought. Then,
he came to a decision. He turned to Sirius’ desk and drew out the chair, sitting down at it. The
mahogany surface of the desk was covered in dust and bits of old paper which Sirius had never
bothered to clear away when he’d still lived there. Regulus brushed them aside and conjured a
sheet of parchment, a quill, and ink. There were only two people in the world that he wanted to
write to. Perhaps that was sad, Regulus thought, but out of all the people who’d ever touched his
life, there were only two who he felt as if he needed to explain himself to. The most ridiculous part
of it was that he hadn’t spoken to either person in years.

He had no parting words for his mother. Her betrayal—the fact that she’d misled and manipulated
him his whole life—wasn’t even a surprise to him. He’d known for a while that she’d never really
loved him much, nor had he ever much loved her in return. He’d stayed out of duty, and now that
idea had become ridiculous, too. He blamed her, of course, but the thought didn’t make him angry.
He wasn’t really angry at anyone at the moment, other than himself, and that wasn’t the sort of
anger that made his blood hot. Instead, it just chilled him further to the bone.

Regulus sat for a long time, quill in hand, staring at the parchment in front of him. What could he
possibly write that would explain what he’d done? He knew that nothing he could write could heal
the years of silence, or his betrayal, that was for sure. After so many years, did it matter, anyway?
Once they read them, the words would be cold, just like him. For all Regulus knew, neither person
thought of him much anymore. His words might mean nothing to them.

Knowing this, he wrote only two words, copied twice on the parchment: I’m sorry. It was the only
thing he had to say, the only thing that mattered to him anymore, even if it wouldn’t matter to
them. He tore off each apology and folded them both in two, then turned to the third piece of his
parchment and began to write. On this one, the words came easier. He was driven with purpose,
which didn’t require anything more of him than knowing exactly what he was doing and how it
would end.
To the Dark Lord,

I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered
your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in
the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more.

R.A.B.

He finished the last letter, then read over what he’d written. That's it, he thought. That's all I need
to say.

He folded the parchment into a small square, then strode over to Sirius’ open wardrobe. He didn’t
have to search for too long to find what he’d been looking for: the Black family locket lay on the
floor of the wardrobe, carelessly tossed there, no doubt, in one of Sirius’ rages. It belonged to the
Black family heir, Regulus knew, but neither of Regulus’ parents had bothered to search Sirius’
room for it when he’d left. Regulus opened the locket, shoved the paper inside, then latched it
tightly shut. Standing up, he shoved the locket into his pocket and looked around the room again.

Dawn light was beginning to shine in from the window, illuminating the dust laying thickly upon
the hardwood. It’s time, Regulus thought as his eyes scanned the walls once more. He wished he
could take something with him from this room, something that felt like his brother, but Sirius had
taken all his important keepsakes with him when he’d left. Regulus strode over and tried to prize
the photo of the four boys off the wall, but it wouldn’t budge, so he gave up quickly.

Regulus took the two folded pieces of parchment from the desk and made his way toward the door.
He turned to take one last look at the room, one last look at his brother, then exited, shutting the
door behind him. The small sound of the door closing echoed in the empty house, but he knew that
his mother wouldn’t come to see what had made the sound, even if she was awake by then.

He walked over to his own room and opened the door. It felt almost as empty as Sirius’, now,
despite the fact that it had, after all, been lived in in the past years. He didn’t look around, just
headed to where Icarus was perched on the wardrobe and made to attach the two letters to his leg.
He paused, realizing what he’d forgotten, and bent over his desk, writing the names of the
addressees on the outside of each: Sirius Black. Stephen Macmillan.

Then, Regulus went back to his owl, attached the letters to his leg, and opened the window wide
for him to fly off. He watched Icarus disappear, realizing as he did so that when Icarus returned,
Regulus wouldn’t be there to greet him. Perhaps Icarus wouldn’t even come back to this house, as
the invisible tie that allowed him to find Regulus would be severed. He suddenly wished that he’d
given the owl some kind of proper goodbye, but Icarus’ small grey form had already disappeared
from view. Regulus sighed, then walked back across his room towards the door, opening it and not
looking back as he exited, shutting it behind him. He didn’t need to have one last look at his room,
as it didn’t feel much like home to him, not anymore.

As he descended the staircase, Regulus glanced at the elf heads mounted on the wall beside it. In
his mind’s eye, he saw a thirteen-year-old Sirius placing Santa Claus hats on them as his eleven-
year-old self hovered anxiously beside him.

“Why are you doing this?” Regulus had asked Sirius. “You know it’ll make mother angry.”

Sirius had shot him a grin. “It’s Christmas, Reg,” he’d responded easily. “We need to liven the
place up.”

Sirius had still been cheerful, even when he’d received a black eye over the incident later. He’d
also managed to put a sticking charm on the hats, which he’d told Regulus would likely wear off
over time, but had been sufficient to keep them there until the end of the holidays.

As soon as the memory came, it disappeared, leaving the hallway just as dark and gloomy as ever.
Regulus shook his head as if to clear it of cobwebs. That had been the last year he’d spent alone in
the house, without Sirius, before he’d gone to Hogwarts himself. Now, seven years later, Regulus
felt as if decades had passed between that day and this one. Not even the memory of Sirius’ laugh
echoed in the old house anymore, and he’d never return; Regulus had accepted that years ago.

Today, Regulus would leave forever, too. Perhaps he should’ve left that night, four years ago,
when Sirius had asked him to, but instead he’d remained to collect dust, just like Sirius’ belongings
he’d left behind. Now, it seemed as if Regulus was always meant to leave the place behind forever,
too. The house was meant to lie, dusty and empty, until the end of time. Hidden away from the rest
of the world, it was meant to be buried. Now, Regulus was burying it. He walked on.

When he reached the kitchens, Regulus found that Kreacher was already awake and wearing an
apron, preparing food. He had a moment of confusion when he saw the turkey in the oven, but then
understanding clicked into place. Of course, today was December 25th: Christmas Day. Kreacher
had probably planned to spend the whole day preparing for the family meal that night. A surge of
guilt rose up in Regulus, realizing what he’d have to ask the elf to do after already being put
through such an ordeal.

“Kreacher,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse, and he cleared it. “Kreacher,” he said, louder this
time, and the elf turned in surprise to see him.

“Master Regulus,” Kreacher said, bowing deeply. “Kreacher did not expect Master to be up so
early. Does Master want breakfast?”

“No, Kreacher, that’s alright,” Regulus replied, swallowing. His mouth felt very dry, and his heart
beat a bruise against his ribs, as if it was trying to escape its prison which would soon be doomed
along with it. “I have another favor to ask you, though, if that’s alright.”

Kreacher looked up at Regulus with a tinge of apprehension in his eyes but nodded nonetheless.
“Kreacher would be happy to do anything Master requires from him.”

“I need you to take me to the place you went with the Dark Lord two nights ago. I need to see it,”
Regulus said, his words slow and careful. “Do you think you’d be able to do that, Kreacher?”

Kreacher began to shake, his eyes going wide with apprehension and fear, but Regulus reached out
to grasp his small, wizened hands in his, stilling them. “It’s alright, Kreacher,” he said, his voice
steady. “I won’t let any harm come to you. I promise.”

Kreacher gave a small nod, looking slightly calmer, then nodded again, more assuredly this time.
“Kreacher can bring Master Regulus there,” he said. “Kreacher will do whatever Master Regulus
wants him to do.”

“Thank you, Kreacher,” Regulus said, giving him a small, comforting smile, and squeezing his
hands briefly. “We need to go now if that’s alright.”

“Yes, Master,” Kreacher said, bowing his head. He snapped his fingers, no doubt ensuring that the
cooking would go on without him, then he straightened. Regulus stood, too, releasing one of
Kreacher’s hands but holding tight to the other, and as Kreacher turned on the spot, Regulus
followed him into the compressing darkness.
They appeared moments later in a cave, which was just illuminated by the slight dawn light
coming from the tunnel that led to it. Regulus lit his wand and looked around. The stone floor was
covered by a shallow pool of water, which he guessed would be much higher if it’d been high tide.
The walls were smooth and slimy, worn down by the sea. As Regulus got his bearings, Kreacher
hurried over to a spot on the far wall, gesturing for Regulus to follow. Regulus, who saw nothing
extraordinary about this blank patch of stone, followed slowly, ready for any surprises, and
stopped beside Kreacher, examining it.

“This is the entrance the Dark Lord took Kreacher through to get to the cave inside,” Kreacher told
Regulus, looking at the wall apprehensively.

“And it opens with blood?” Regulus whispered, remembering Kreacher’s story, his quiet voice still
bouncing off of the walls as he stared at the smooth stone. Kreacher nodded and lifted his arm, but
Regulus shook his head.

“I told you that no harm would come to you,” he said and rolled up his own sleeve. Without
hesitating, he used his wand to cut a small gash into his forearm and pressed it against the stone,
letting the blood trickle down onto the cold surface. Immediately, an archway appeared out of it, as
if it’d been waiting for them. The stone inside it disappeared, leaving a gaping, dark hole within.
Regulus used his wand to heal his cut, pushed his sleeve back down, and, taking a deep breath,
strode through the arch, Kreacher in his wake.

Regulus walked slowly into the darkness, holding his lit wand aloft. He knew what he’d find there
from Kreacher’s description of the place, but this didn’t make the sight of the huge cavern with its
forbidding, black lake any less eerie as it appeared out of the gloom. He stood for a second, staring
out across the water with his wand raised, Kreacher by his side, trembling slightly, before looking
down at the elf.

“Can you show me where the boat is hidden, Kreacher?” he asked, and Kreacher started, looking
up at him and away from the water. Kreacher nodded, relief flooding his face as if remembering
that he wasn’t alone, and hurried forward around the lake, Regulus following, wand stretched out
in front of him to illuminate Kreacher’s way.

They walked for what seemed like half an hour, Regulus not stopping or asking any questions as he
followed Kreacher, his gaze fixed resolutely on the path ahead of him. He didn’t look at the water
lapping at the bank beside him, nor towards the middle of the lake, where the strange, misty green
light shone. He’d reach both destinations later, that much was certain.

“It’s here,” Kreacher said after many long minutes of silence, stopping at another patch of the bank
and resting his hand on something Regulus couldn’t see midair. Regulus reached forward to touch
whatever it was, and found the air cold, like metal. He extended his wand to tap it, repeating the
incantation of the revealing spell as he did so, and immediately, a slimy green chain appeared from
Kreacher’s hand. Regulus followed its path with his eyes into the lake and swallowed.

“It’s in there?” he asked Kreacher, turning to the elf.

Kreacher merely nodded, and Regulus took a deep breath, grasping the chain and pulling it.
Slowly, with much effort on his part, Regulus pulled the boat out of the water, discarding the chain
on the ground as he did so. Kreacher looked on, his eyes wide as the boat loomed like a ghost
under the water and then surfaced. It was small, Regulus noted, only big enough for one or two
people. Without stopping to think, Regulus clambered in, and Kreacher, after a moment’s pause,
climbed in after him.

As soon as Regulus had retrieved the chain and piled it into the bottom of the boat, it began to
move on its own, pulling them smoothly, as if by magnetic force, towards the center of the lake,
where the green light originated. Regulus didn’t speak as they went, instead focusing his attention
on Kreacher, who was trembling worse than ever and peering over the sides of the boat, looking as
if he both wanted to know what was in the water and dreaded what he’d see. Regulus, meanwhile,
refused to look. It was almost as if Kreacher’s fright calmed him further. And, after all, Regulus
knew what was coming; he’d accepted it.

His heart still pumped hard in his chest, despite his determination to carry out his plan. It seemed to
be trying to win a fight against his brain, but he knew it was futile. He could feel the breath in his
lungs, the beating of his heart, the blood rushing through his veins, more than he thought he’d ever
experienced in his life, but they’d all have to stop, and soon. The thoughts running through his
mind, the beating of his heart—they were all just counting down until the last one, the last beat.

He knew now, at last, that he was courageous. He’d assured the Sorting Hat many years ago that
he wasn’t, had told the hat to put him in Slytherin where he belonged, and now he knew that it’d
all been a lie. Now he knew that he could’ve had a different life if he’d known better, chosen
differently. But that life was lost to him now, just as surely as this one was. Now, all that was left
was to use his inevitable end to try to break down some of the evil which he’d helped to build. He
wouldn’t run.

The boat hit the bank of the little island with a bump, and Regulus leapt out onto the smooth rock,
extending his hand to Kreacher to help him follow. Once he had, Regulus gave the boat a slight
shove, and it slid back along the path from which it’d come, back through the darkness towards the
far side of the lake. Kreacher watched it go, confusion etched into the lines of his small face, but
Regulus didn’t answer his unspoken question. Instead, he turned and moved to look into the basin,
where he knew Lord Voldemort’s Horcrux lay, curled at the bottom, though he couldn’t see it.

“Master Regulus,” Kreacher’s voice was small and scared, and Regulus looked around, moving
away from the basin and crouching down beside Kreacher.

“Kreacher, what I’m about to ask you to do is very important, so you have to do exactly what I say,
alright?” he asked, meeting the elf’s eyes earnestly. Kreacher nodded, though he looked terrified
for what Regulus would say next. Regulus took a deep breath and pulled the Black family locket
out of his pocket, pressing it into Kreacher’s hands.

“You need to take this,” he said, his voice shaking slightly now, as he could feel the urgency of his
death approaching, like breath on the back of his neck. “And when the basin is empty, you need to
switch the lockets, take the Dark Lord’s locket away from this cave, and destroy it. It’s very
important, Kreacher, that you destroy that locket by any means necessary. Do you understand?”

Kreacher’s eyes were wide, but he nodded. “And what will you do, Master?” Kreacher asked, his
voice full of apprehension, as if he knew the answer but wanted Regulus to contradict him. Regulus
took a deep breath and met his eyes again.

“I’m not leaving this cave, Kreacher,” he said, his voice sounding hollow. “You’re to leave without
me and never tell anyone in the family what happened here today, or about the locket, or anything.
Do you understand me?”

Kreacher began to tremble where he stood, his large eyes filling with tears as he looked up at
Regulus. “Master Regulus—” he started, but Regulus held up his hand to silence him, and Kreacher
stopped speaking, knowing that Regulus would take no protests.

“I’ve done too much wrong,” Regulus said, looking away from the elf and towards the water for
the first time. “I have to try to do something to balance the scales, even if it’s too late for me.” He
knew that Kreacher wouldn’t understand his words, that he was safe saying them, and anyway,
they weren’t really for the elf.

When he looked back towards Kreacher, he saw that tears had spilled out of the elf’s eyes and ran
down his face. He was clearly trying not to make a sound, but Regulus’ heart ached to see him like
that. He reached out, and, for the first time in his life, pulled Kreacher into a hug. Kreacher’s small
arms wrapped around Regulus’ middle awkwardly, as neither was used to the gesture, and Regulus
let go after only a moment.

“You’re family to me, Kreacher,” he said, standing up and turning away from the elf, back to the
basin, where the potion awaited him. He heard the elf sniffle from behind him, but Kreacher didn’t
respond to his words, which Regulus was grateful for.

Regulus looked down into the basin again, then, with a swish of his wand, he conjured a goblet and
plunged it into its depths. The goblet slid into the potion easily and Regulus brought back a cup
full. With only half a second’s hesitation, Regulus downed the potion in one gulp, then swallowed.
It was sour on his tongue and burned slightly on the way down. His fear was growing, too,
breaking through his calm assurance from earlier, but he retrieved another gobletful before he
could second guess himself.

Terror began to set in, clouding his vision and settling in his stomach alongside the burning
sensation from the potion. Regulus’ hands shook but he ignored them, dipping the goblet into the
basin again and drinking another cup of potion. He was shaking, now, but he continued to fill the
goblet, his determination winning out over the pain as he tried to push away the screaming that was
starting to get louder in his head.

Regulus tipped another cup of potion into his mouth, swallowing painfully as the screaming
reached a deafening pitch. He closed his eyes, and in his mind’s eye, a blurry picture came into
focus as if it’d been waiting for him: the dining room at Grimmauld Place, Sirius on the floor,
screaming, in a pile of broken glass.

“It’s not real,” Regulus said through gritted teeth, determinedly dipping the glass into the potion
once again and bringing it to his lips, gulping it down like water.

More screams. Flashes of younger memories this time. Sirius kneeled on the floor, his father’s belt
at his back, being punished yet again because he’d taken the blame for something the two boys
had done together. His eyelids were closed tight, and Regulus stood in front of him, screaming.
Sirius opened his eyes after a moment and looked up at his brother quite calmly.

“Don’t look, Reg,” he said. “Close your eyes. You’ll be okay.”

Regulus really did scream this time. It reverberated through the cavern, a hollow and broken sound
echoing into the dark, hidden corners of the place, which snuffed it out, not caring. Regulus
slumped over the basin, breathing heavily.

“No, Sirius,” he panted, his tears falling into the potion. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, not
even knowing what he was saying. “I’ll do better next time. I promise.”

But the memory faded away, and he was left slumped over the basin, the sound of the water
lapping on the rock and Kreacher’s terrified inquiries muffled to his ears. Without looking, Regulus
took another glassful of potion and drank it.

“You can’t just walk away!” a different voice screamed at him this time, thick with tears and
desperate anger. “You can’t just pretend that this was nothing! Look at me!” But Regulus couldn’t.
He pressed his hands to the sides of his head, willing it to stop, to be cut off, to end.

“Please go away,” he moaned. “Stop this. I can’t.” He spoke the words into the basin as if willing
the potion to hear him, to listen, to stop torturing him. Or was it the boy from years ago who he
hoped would hear his words? He didn’t know.

Another glass of potion, another voice speaking to him. “You told them you hated me?” Sirius
demanded of him, standing in his bedroom the night he’d left Grimmauld Place. “Maybe I don’t
know what it’s like to be in Slytherin, to be the good child with the expectations, but you have no
fucking clue what it’s like to be me, either.”

“Leave, then,” fourteen-year-old Regulus told his brother. In his memory, Sirius walked past him
toward the door, then was swallowed up by the darkness of the cave.

“Please, Sirius,” the eighteen-year-old Regulus cried, still clutching the stone basin to keep himself
from falling to the ground. “Don’t go.”

The voices melded together after a while, the images becoming blurred, indistinct. The screaming
was loud, but Regulus now didn’t know if it was his own voice or those of all the others. He saw
Anna on the floor, a bruise blooming on her cheek, her eyes filled with fear, rage, and deep hurt,
and he tried to block it out, tried not to think about what he’d done to her that day, or how he could
never make up for any of it. He saw the face of the man he’d killed, looming out at him from the
darkness, his eyes glassy and empty, and he screamed again.

Regulus didn’t know how long it took to empty the basin, but once it was empty, he finally allowed
himself to collapse to the ground. He heard Kreacher moving above him, hopefully switching out
the lockets as Regulus had instructed. His message would remain hidden in this place within the
locket, possibly forever. Kreacher would destroy the Horcrux. He had to. Regulus had told the elf
to leave him, and he must, because Regulus was dead either way, and he preferred to go quietly in
this cavern than be hunted down and tortured by Voldemort.

He felt the house-elf beside him, trying to help him, but Regulus wasn’t able to understand what he
was saying or respond. The only clear voices were screaming in his mind. Slowly but surely, the
thirst crept forward to claim him, as he’d known it would. Inch by inch, Regulus crawled to the
edge of the lake and leaned over it, drinking deeply. He barely reacted to the cold contact on his
wrist, then his ankle. The hands upon him felt like tendrils of seaweed coming out of the water to
wrap around him and drag him under.

The water engulfed him, cold and clear, the hands of the dead pulling him down. Regulus began to
struggle feebly, instinctually, the cold water startling his limp muscles into motion, but it was no
use. The inferi were too strong, and too many. They dragged him deeper, and the light above faded
away to a pinprick. But it was quiet down here, too. The screaming in his head had faded. Now, all
he could hear was a soft voice—his brother’s—echoing to him through the years, though it
sounded strong. Sirius was there with Regulus, as he’d always been. He was protecting him still,
even when he didn’t deserve it.

“Don’t look, Reg,” Sirius said, his voice sounding calm and measured, confident, as it always had
been, even when they’d been younger. He sounded older now, though, his voice lower, like the
Sirius that Regulus was leaving behind now, not the eleven-year-old boy who’d first said these
words to him.

“Close your eyes,” Sirius continued. “You’ll be okay.” The words were steady and comforting, the
only warm thing left in this frigid water. Regulus’ eyelids were heavy, and when he finally obeyed,
letting them flutter closed, extinguishing the last vestiges of light above, he felt nothing but relief.
Chapter End Notes

Not sure what to say about this chapter other than it was as emotionally draining to
write as it was cathartic. I hope I did Regulus' story justice.
 1979-1980: Turned to Dust
Chapter Notes

cw: mentions of past abuse

Sirius rose late on Boxing Day, the weak winter sun already shining through the windows when he
woke, and stretched, sitting up in bed. Beside him, he saw Remus sprawled on his stomach, his
face in the pillow, his light brown curls thoroughly mussed, and his back bare. Sirius smiled at the
sight, then swung his legs out from under the covers and stood up. He exited the bedroom and
walked to their bathroom on bare feet, yawning. His mouth felt papery, and his head hurt slightly,
too: a product of too much of Fleamont’s signature eggnog. Only when he left the loo did he finally
hear the rapping on the window.

Turning to see the source of the noise, he spotted a grey owl perched on the outside windowsill.
Sirius’ eyes widened, and he hurried over to the window. It couldn’t be…

“Icarus?” he demanded in disbelief as he opened the window, allowing the grey owl to flutter
inside, perching on the couch and holding out his leg, to which a slip of parchment was attached.

Once he was inside, Sirius could see that it was, without a doubt, Regulus’ grey owl which was
staring back at him expectantly. Sirius blinked for a few seconds, startled, then hurried forward to
detach the letter from the owl’s leg. Icarus hooted in a satisfied sort of way, flying over to perch on
top of the fridge and regarding Sirius inscrutably from there.

Sirius watched him go, still feeling nonplussed by the owl’s presence in his flat, a confusion which
wasn’t helped by his tiredness. After a moment, however, he looked back down at the paper in his
hands and unfolded it. It couldn’t really be called a letter—it was small, only folded once in half,
and had only two words on it, in Regulus’ slanting writing: I’m sorry.

Sirius stared down at the page in disbelief for a few moments, then flipped it over, confirming
there was nothing written on the back other than his name, again in Regulus’ careful hand. He
turned it over again, staring down at his brother’s words but not making sense of them. There was
no explanation, no rhyme or reason, just Regulus’ apology. Sirius stared at it for another full
minute, then opened his mouth and called:

“Remus!”

Remus appeared after only thirty seconds, perhaps hearing the note of panic in Sirius’ voice.

“What is it?” he asked, looking in concern from Sirius’ chalk-white face to the paper in his hand.
Sirius held it out to him mutely, and Remus took it, his eyes scanning over the words quickly, then
looking back up at Sirius in puzzlement.

“Who wrote this?” Remus asked, his brow furrowed.

“Regulus,” Sirius replied, taking the paper back from him. He jerked his thumb up to the top of the
fridge, where Icarus still sat, staring down at them. Remus glanced up at the owl, and a crease
formed between his brows.
“That’s your brother’s owl?”

“Yeah, that’s Icarus,” Sirius said, his eyes fixed on the words on the page again. “Mother got him
for Reg when he started Hogwarts. I haven’t seen him in a while, but I recognize him.”

“And this is Regulus’ handwriting?” Remus asked, looking back down at the piece of paper in
Sirius’ hand. “You’re sure?”

Sirius looked up at Remus and met his gaze, nodding. “I’d know it anywhere,” he confirmed.
Remus held his gaze for a moment, worry blossoming in his blue eyes.

“What does it mean?” Sirius asked, looking back at the page. “Why is he writing me, after all these
years? Why say sorry now?”

“I don’t know, Sirius,” Remus replied. “But it’s not a good sign. You know that, right?”

“What do you mean?” Sirius asked, his head snapping up to look at Remus. Remus sighed, moving
to the couch and sitting down. He was still wearing nothing but his pants, and Sirius could see the
lines of scars tracing up and down his chest, arms, and legs, formed over many years. Sirius sat
down beside Remus, studying his face for answers.

“I see two reasons why he might have sent this to you,” Remus said finally, looking up at Sirius.
“One is that he’s trying to lure you into a trap for the Death Eaters by getting back into your good
graces.”

Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but Remus held up a hand to silence him, and Sirius let him go
on.

“The second reason is that he really is sorry for all that he’s done over the years, and if that’s true,
it probably means he regrets joining the Death Eaters. And if he regrets joining the Death
Eaters…” Remus trailed off, his gaze intent upon Sirius as if imploring him to understand the
words that he didn’t want to be forced to say aloud.

Sirius stilled, thinking over Remus’ words, and the realization sunk into him. He looked up at
Remus in horror. “Then he’s in danger,” he finished Remus’ sentence.

“Danger is a bit of an understatement,” Remus said, shaking his head sadly. “If he’s planning on
deserting, he’s as good as dead, Sirius.”

The words fell hard on Sirius’ ears, their meaning heavy. He was silent for a few moments, then he
shook his head, slowly at first, then vigorously. He leapt to his feet and began to pace in front of
the couch, Remus’ eyes following him as he walked.

“No, we can help him,” Sirius said. “If he’s planning on deserting, he can come over to our side,
we can get Dumbledore to—”

“It’s not that simple and you know it,” Remus interrupted. “For one, who knows if he even wants
to come over to our side? Even if he doesn’t want to be a part of the Death Eaters anymore, it
doesn’t mean he’s necessarily stopped touting their beliefs. Then, we don’t know if Dumbledore or
the Ministry would pardon him or be willing to help or protect him.”

“They have to,” Sirius said wildly. “If he has valuable information—”

“There are no guarantees,” Remus said. “And who knows if we could actually protect him from
Voldemort, even if Dumbledore and the Ministry were involved?”
Sirius paused, the truth of this statement reaching him. He took a different tack. “What if it’s the
first option, then? What if he’s trying to lead me into a trap?” He’d never wished so much that this
was true.

“Like I said, it’s possible,” Remus said. “Though if he were, you’d think that he’d write you more
than two words.”

Sirius nodded slowly, resuming his pacing as he worked over the issue in his mind. Remus was
right: if it was a trap, Sirius would’ve expected to receive a longer letter, perhaps begging for help
and asking Sirius to meet him somewhere. Not this. This brief scrap of paper felt more like…a
goodbye. Sirius shook his head as if to clear it of the thought.

“There’s only one way to know for sure,” he said, throwing himself down onto the couch beside
Remus again and pulling a piece of parchment, a quill, and an inkpot towards him on the coffee
table. Remus sat straight up and stared at Sirius in disbelief.

“You can’t just write back!”

“I can, and I will,” Sirius retorted resolutely, dipping the quill into the inkpot and beginning to
scribble a reply—asking Regulus if he was alright, and what was going on.

“You can’t contact a known Death Eater without telling Dumbledore first,” Remus continued,
staring between Sirius’ writing on the page and his face in horror. “What if it is a trap?”

“Then we’ll know what the letter meant,” Sirius said calmly, finishing his quick reply with a
flourish and blowing on the ink to dry it before folding it and standing up again. He walked over to
Icarus, who was still sitting on the fridge, and began to try to coax him down.

“Sirius, think about this,” Remus said, following him into the kitchen and hovering a few feet
away, staring at him in worry. “If something goes wrong, you want the Order behind you. If you
do this without telling them—”

“Can you get him down for me, please?” Sirius asked, ignoring his boyfriend’s words of caution.
Remus hesitated, then strode over and reached up to gently pick up the uncooperative owl, placing
him down on the counter. Icarus snapped at Remus threateningly once released, and when Sirius
reached out to try to tie the letter to his leg, he bit him hard on the finger.

“Merlin’s fucking pants!” Sirius exclaimed, snatching his finger back and examining it, then
staring at the owl, offended. “What did you do that for?”

Icarus gave a low, threatening hoot, then turned his back to them, though he didn’t move. Sirius
exchanged a confused look with Remus, who’d stopped his fussing, too, in light of the owl’s
strange behavior. Slowly, cautiously, Sirius reached out, hoping to get hold of Icarus’ leg to attach
the letter to it when he was looking in the opposite direction, but as his fingers drew near, Icarus let
out an indignant hoot and took flight, returning to his perch on the top of the fridge.

“Seriously?” Sirius demanded, turning to stare up at the owl again, who’d turned his back on him
once more. “What is wrong with you, you bloody bird?”

“Has he ever done this before?” Remus asked, puzzled. Sirius shook his head, still glaring at the
grey owl’s back.

“No, he’s always been friendly with me in the past,” he said. He turned, looking around the flat.

“Where’s Caspian?”
“Not back from hunting, I think,” Remus said. He continued to frown up at Icarus. “If he’s refusing
to deliver letters, it could be because Regulus told him not to,” he suggested. “That definitely
points to it not being a trap. Maybe he doesn’t want to be found.”

“Well, tough luck,” Sirius said, grouchily throwing his letter down on the table. “Because I’m
going to find him.”

He hurried over to their bedroom and opened the closet, riffling through it before finding some
socks, trousers, and a shirt to pull on. He pulled on a jumper over it, then strode back out to the
sitting room.

“Where are you going?” Remus asked, his gaze following Sirius’ movements cautiously.

“Taking your advice, sort of,” Sirius said, not looking at him but striding towards the door and
pulling his boots on. “I’m going to the Auror office. Moody or Dearborn might know something
about this.”

“I can come with you,” Remus offered, moving towards the bedroom to get dressed, too. Sirius
looked up at him and shook his head.

“I have to do this alone, Moony,” he said shortly, winding a scarf around his neck and shrugging on
his leather jacket. “I’ll tell you what I find out when I get back.”

“Be careful, Sirius,” Remus warned, his gaze worried again. “Don’t look for answers you’re not
ready to find.”

“Is anyone ever ready for anything they don’t know?” Sirius asked, rolling his eyes at Remus.

Remus sighed but didn’t respond, and Sirius only gave him a quick wave before leaving and
swinging the door shut behind him. He gave the hallway a quick once-over, then turned on the
spot, disappearing into the compressing darkness that would take him to the Ministry of Magic.

When he opened his eyes, Sirius was standing in the atrium of the Ministry. He looked around
quickly, trying to get his bearings, then hurried towards the lifts as he spotted them. He shoved his
way inside, getting a few dirty looks from the people around him, and pressed the number two
button hard. It took a while for the lifts to clatter up through the floors, wizards and witches getting
off at each one until they reached the second to last, and Sirius hurried into the corridor connecting
it. He passed someone heading in the opposite direction with his head down, a mop of sandy hair
obscuring his face, and Sirius felt some unknown flicker of recognition rise up in him, but he
ignored it, continuing on toward the Auror office.

He’d walked this way so many times he’d lost count, and it felt a great deal less intimidating today
than the first time he’d stepped out of the lifts for his first day of Auror training. Now, when he
walked into the Auror Headquarters, people recognized him, knew him by name, and,
unfortunately, knew him well enough so that they could see that he wasn’t supposed to be there.

“It’s your morning off!” a familiar voice exclaimed behind him, and Sirius turned to see Marlene
approaching, her eyebrows raised. “Why on earth would you come in right after Christmas if you
didn’t have to?”

“I’m not here to train, or work,” Sirius said, craning his neck around distractedly, hoping to catch
sight of one of the Senior Aurors. “I need to talk to Moody or Dearborn.”

“Is that Sirius?” Alice Longbottom had poked her head out of the training room, and her eyebrows
knit together when she saw him. She approached him slowly, arms crossing over her chest, looking
suspicious. “What is it?”

“I need to talk to—”

“I heard you the first time,” a gruff voice said behind him, and Sirius turned to see Moody there,
his expression annoyed, in the door of his office. “Come on in, then.”

Sirius strode over to Moody, not bothering to say goodbye to either Marlene or Alice, and followed
him into the small room, closing the door behind him. He realized as he did so that Moody hadn’t
been alone: Caradoc Dearborn, another Senior Auror in the Order of the Phoenix, was standing in
the room, looking at Sirius with a curious expression on his face. Dearborn was milder and
friendlier than Moody, but this didn’t make him any less formidable. He’d been working at the
Ministry longer than Moody and had more authority, though his friendly brown eyes often made
Sirius forget that Dearborn could render him unemployed with a single nod.

“What’s happened?” Moody demanded after he’d taken a seat behind his desk, and Dearborn had
sat back down, too. Sirius produced the paper from his pocket and dropped it on the desk before
sitting. Dearborn and Moody leaned forward to examine it.

“It’s from my brother,” Sirius said, without preamble. “I got it just this morning. That’s all he sent.
I need help finding him.”

Dearborn and Moody shared a look, and Moody leaned back in his chair, examining Sirius closely
with his dark, unreadable eyes. “You want to find him?” Moody asked finally, his voice inflected
with slight disbelief. Sirius glared at him.

“He’s my brother,” he said. “And he might need help. I think he might be trying to desert the Death
Eaters. I tried to respond to his letter, but his owl refused to take my letter back to him.”

Moody shook his head in exasperation. “Reckless,” he said, addressing Dearborn instead of Sirius.
“Just like I told you.”

Sirius gritted his teeth and looked from one to the other. “I need to find him,” he repeated. “Will
you help me?”

Moody glanced at Dearborn again, his expression inscrutable. “You tell him,” he said after a
moment. Dearborn sighed and turned to Sirius. Sirius’ brow furrowed, his anger mounting.

“What is it?” he demanded of the two older men. “What are you two not telling me? What do you
know?”

“Sirius,” Dearborn said, putting up his hands in a placating gesture. “We don’t know much. But
someone just left who got the exact same letter as you did, also claiming it came from Regulus
Black.”

“What?” Sirius demanded, leaping to his feet in agitation. “Who?”

“We can’t tell you,” Dearborn said, not seeming surprised at all by Sirius’ sudden movement. “But
he came into this office to give the letter to us because he thought it might be important, seeing as
how your brother is a Death Eater.”

Sirius stepped back as if Dearborn had slapped him, though he wasn’t sure why. He knew that
Regulus was a Death Eater, but something about Dearborn’s words made him feel protective over
him nevertheless.
“You weren’t going to tell me,” Sirius accused, looking from one to the other. “If I hadn’t come in
here just now, you wouldn’t have told me anything about the other letter!”

Moody shrugged, unabashed, while Dearborn sighed. “We were just discussing whether to inform
you or not when you arrived,” he admitted heavily. “Alastor thought you might do something ill-
advised if given the information.”

Sirius turned to glare at Moody, anger rising up in him. He clenched his fists, suppressing the urge
to hit the older man. “He needs our help!” he said instead. “I haven’t gotten any correspondence
from my brother in years. He stopped talking to me after I ran away from home when I was
sixteen.”

Even now, years later, it cost something for Sirius to say those words aloud, especially to Moody
and Dearborn, who were already looking at him like he was a bomb about to go off. He continued
on doggedly, however.

“This is the first I’ve heard from him in four and a half years. Something’s wrong.”

“You still want to help your brother who you haven’t heard from in over four years?” Dearborn
asked mildly. “Who stopped speaking to you when you ran away from home?”

Sirius turned on him, anger in his gaze. “You can’t possibly understand,” he said. “That’s not the
point, anyway. What are you going to do to find him?”

Dearborn and Moody shared one last look, then Moody leaned forward in his chair and spoke
again. “Nothing,” he said shortly. He pushed the note back across the table toward Sirius, and
Sirius stared down at it, uncomprehendingly. “We’re not going to search for Death Eaters who
have lost their way, Black. You should know better than anyone that we have much more
important things to focus on.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sirius demanded, lunging forward towards Moody. Dearborn was
too quick for him, and Sirius was hit with a jinx that pushed him back, forcing him to find his
balance again as Dearborn stood, his wand raised warningly.

“Be careful, Sirius,” he said, and Sirius noted with slight derision that Dearborn was the second
person to say that to him that day. “I understand that this isn’t what you want to hear, but—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sirius demanded again, interrupting Dearborn loudly. “Regulus
must be planning on deserting the Death Eaters, that’s why he told me he’s sorry. He’s sorry for
what he’s done, he wants to leave, he could even have information that would help the Order, and
you don’t even fucking care!”

Moody stood up from his desk, glaring at Sirius, his air of boredom and disdain gone. “He’s dead,
Black!” he shouted, his voice echoing off the walls and no doubt carrying into the rest of the Auror
Headquarters, too. “Any idiot can see that if he wrote you that letter and was planning on deserting
the Death Eaters, he’s probably already dead, or he will be soon enough. And I for one don’t want
to spend my time and energy searching for a dead man, especially not one who was a Voldemort
supporter!”

Sirius stared at Moody in shock, feeling like all the breath had been knocked out of him. After only
a moment, however, the rage was back, and he lunged again at Moody. He was quicker than
Dearborn’s defensive jinx this time and managed to land a punch before he was pushed back.
Moody didn’t falter, only stared at Sirius before putting a curious hand up to his nose, which Sirius
thought he might’ve managed to break, given the crunching noise he’d heard when his fist
connected with it. Dearborn stared at Sirius, too, disbelief and shock etched into the lines of his
face.

“Out,” Moody said after a long silence, pointing to the door. Sirius was breathing heavily, staring
between the two Aurors. When neither of their expressions flickered, he stepped forward and
grabbed the letter off of the desk, shoved it back into his pocket, and wrenched the door open,
striding out. The rest of the Auror Headquarters was deathly silent, all heads turned toward Sirius
as he strode towards the exit.

“Sirius, wait!” Marlene said, bounding after him. She caught him in the hallway, out of sight of the
other observers, and grabbed his arm. He turned to her, still breathing hard, anger coursing through
him.

“What, Marlene?” he snapped, not looking her in the eye. She gave him a disbelieving and slightly
reproachful look but didn’t release his arm.

“Were you talking about Regulus?” she asked. “I heard some of what you said in the office, and
what Moody said. Regulus contacted you?”

“He wrote me a letter,” Sirius replied through gritted teeth, not particularly wanting to show it to
her just then. “He said he was sorry.”

“Is that all he said?” Marlene demanded, her eyes wide. “He didn’t think you deserved any more of
an explanation, after all these years?”

“Fuck off, Marlene,” Sirius retorted, glaring at her. “I don’t need you, on top of Moody and
Dearborn—”

“Sirius, you know Moody’s probably right,” Marlene pressed, unfazed by his hostility. “If that’s all
Regulus wrote you, it sounds like he was saying goodbye. He’s probably—”

“Don’t you fucking say it,” Sirius said, his voice almost a growl. “Don’t you dare, Marlene. My
brother isn’t dead. Go back in there to kiss Moody’s arse if you want to, just leave me the fuck
alone if you’re not going to say anything useful.”

Marlene straightened, her expression turning hostile, though Sirius had known her long enough to
know that there was at least a little hurt behind it, too. At that moment, however, he didn’t care.

“Alright, then,” she said coolly. “I suppose I’ll see you later when you actually want to talk about
this, instead of biting my head off.”

She turned on her heel and walked back towards the door, vanishing through it, her long blonde
ponytail disappearing with a swish behind her. Sirius took a deep breath in and let it out through his
nose, then clenched his jaw and turned back towards the lifts.

....

Sirius didn’t need to be told not to come back to the Auror Headquarters; he’d known when he’d
walked out of Moody’s office that he wouldn’t be wanted back anytime soon, if at all. Marlene
didn’t speak to him for three days, and when she finally did come over to the flat to demand tea and
an apology, he didn’t ask her anything about Moody or Dearborn, or what anyone had been saying
about him. She didn’t speak about it, either, which told him that he was right in thinking that he
wouldn’t be welcomed back. Marlene still seemed wary of him, too, and left quickly, which Sirius
was grateful for.
Sirius spent a week and a half in purgatory, watching the hours tick by and trying to think of a way
to find Regulus. Caspian had failed in delivering Sirius’ letter to his brother, flying around for
hours only to come back with it still attached to his leg. Sirius refused to acknowledge what that
could mean. Icarus, on the other hand, had kept coming back to their flat day after day, hunting
with Caspian at night and perching on the top of the fridge during the daylight hours, staring down
at Sirius. Sometimes, Sirius stared right back, trying to gain some knowledge out of the owl’s
inscrutable eyes, but he knew no way of getting information out of the bird, so he gave up.

Meanwhile, all of Sirius’ friends had been tiptoeing around him. Even Lily—who usually was the
one to put her foot down and demand that he snap out of it—had been avoiding him. From what
Sirius had heard James whisper to Remus one day when they’d thought he hadn’t been listening,
Sirius gathered that Lily thought, as they all did, that Regulus was dead, and she wasn’t quite ready
to face the memories of her own mother’s death that it brought to the surface.

On the first Saturday of the new year, when Sirius knew students would be boarding the Hogwarts
Express back to school, he received a letter from Andromeda. All it said was: Let’s have dinner.
Sirius didn’t bother to respond, but Andromeda turned up on his doorstep at seven anyway,
carrying something wrapped in tin foil and wearing a solemn expression on her face.

“Come in,” Sirius said, gesturing her inside, and she entered without comment, though her eyes
widened slightly at the state that the flat was in. Sirius knew that it was messier than it usually was,
but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Still, Andromeda set her food down on the counter without
comment and turned to him.

“How are you?” she asked, her voice full of concern.

“Fine,” Sirius replied flatly, moving towards the cupboards to get out two plates for whatever
she’d brought for dinner. She gave a slight tut of disbelief, but he ignored it.

“Who told you that I wasn’t fine?” he asked her with his back turned, rummaging around for forks,
now.

“James came to see me,” she said. “He didn’t know that you hadn’t already told me what
happened, though. He just wanted to see if I could help.”

Sirius gave a noncommittal sound in his throat in response and turned back to her, plates and
cutlery in hand. Her grey gaze was reproachful as she looked at him.

“You should’ve told me,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. “He’s my family too.”

“I’m sorry,” Sirius said, and this time, he really meant it. “I’ve just been…dealing.”

“I heard that you’ve stopped going to work,” Andromeda said, sitting down at the counter and
unwrapping her dish, which turned out to be lasagna.

“Well, I punched a Senior Auror,” Sirius said with a short, bitter laugh. “I don’t think they want me
back.”

“You don’t know that,” Andromeda said, not looking at him as she served out the food.

“Maybe I don’t want to go back,” Sirius muttered under his breath. She glanced up at him, giving
him a long, searching look.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally. “But I didn’t just come here to check on you. I have more bad news.”
Sirius’ heart began to pound faster in his chest, and he stared at her, finally startled out of his
listlessness. “What’s happened?” he demanded. Andromeda sighed, suddenly looking very sad.

“I got a letter from Narcissa yesterday,” she said heavily. “She wanted to see if I knew where
Regulus was.”

Sirius’ heart beat a violent bruise on the inside of his chest. He realized that he was holding his
breath. He released it quickly and asked: “They don’t know where he is either?”

Andromeda gave a long, slow shake of her head. “No, they don’t,” she said. “She said that he
didn’t turn up to Christmas dinner. They haven’t heard anything from him. She thought he might
have run to me, or you, or that we might know if someone else was sheltering him.”

“Sheltering him?” Sirius echoed, his heart in his throat now. “Sheltering him from what?”

“He deserted, Sirius,” Andromeda said softly. “And Narcissa said that no one will speak about him
anymore. Not her husband, not Bellatrix. So she said if he’s not with us, he’s—” She broke off, her
voice appearing to catch. She closed her eyes for a moment, and Sirius saw that her lashes were wet
with unshed tears when she opened them again.

“He’s probably dead, Sirius.”

There was a long silence. Sirius’ heart was still pounding, but his breath had stopped. He didn’t
seem to need to breathe anymore. Finally, he spoke.

“No,” he said quietly. “No.”

“I’m so sorry,” Andromeda said, her voice hollow. “I’m so, so sorry, Sirius.”

“It’s not—he can’t be—” Sirius broke off, his voice trailing into silence. A great wave of rage and
grief took over him. “He can’t be—”

Andromeda stood up from her stool and strode around to him, pulling him into her arms. There was
barely an inch difference in their heights, yet she pulled him in to cradle him like he was a child,
and he let her. At first, he felt like struggling, like pushing back against the last thread of fact that
told him what he should’ve already accepted a week ago, but eventually, that part fell away, too.
Because his brother was dead.

Regulus, who’d been eighteen and hadn’t even started his final term at Hogwarts, was dead. Sirius
wondered as his tears fell hot and wet onto Andromeda’s jumper, where Regulus was—if he was
cold in the ground or vanished into thin air. He wished he could find his brother’s body to give him
a grave at least. Even he deserved that, no matter what he’d done. Sirius didn’t really care what his
brother had done, not then. It was other peoples’ job to care, to condemn Regulus for his crimes,
not Sirius’. Sirius just stood there and cried into Andromeda’s shoulder, as he’d never had the
opportunity to do when he’d been a child, when he’d spent years holding tears back to deny his
parents the satisfaction of seeing him hurt, and for his brother’s sake…

But Sirius hadn’t succeeded in protecting Regulus. He’d failed. Because Regulus lay cold
somewhere, having made all the wrong decisions and then finding that he had no way out. Sirius
had failed because by protecting Regulus he’d allowed him to go down the wrong path. He hadn’t
explained, even when Regulus had asked him to explain, why what his parents said was wrong.
And if he’d explained…if he’d told Regulus—

Images of his brother crowded into his mind. Regulus at six, riding his first broomstick, a look of
exaltation on his face. At nine, screaming and crying as he watched Sirius take lashes from his
father. At eleven, crouching over Sirius as he lay in a pile of glass, helping him up to his room.
Again, at eleven, being sorted by the Sorting Hat, and the apologetic look on his face as he glanced
at Sirius from the Slytherin table. Regulus’ straight back when Sirius had left their house, never to
return. His gaze on Sirius on the Quidditch pitch in Sirius’ last year at Hogwarts, from a distance…

“I should’ve protected him,” Sirius choked out, pulling back and lifting his head to look at
Andromeda. “I should’ve saved him.”

“You don’t know if you even could’ve done anything,” Andromeda said, holding his shoulders
tight and looking him forcefully in the eyes. Her eyes were puffy and red, just like Sirius imagined
his were, too. “And you can’t go back now.”

Sirius shook his head, but Andromeda led him towards the couch, then brought him a plate of her
lasagna, forcing a fork into his hand. She supervised him for a while as he slowly picked at his
food. She didn’t say much, and he didn’t either, not knowing what to say. Still, her presence was
comforting.

After an hour, Remus returned home, James and Peter in tow. They stopped dead in their tracks as
soon as they spotted him and Andromeda on the couch.

“What’s happened?” James asked, his eyes flicking from Andromeda to Sirius.

“You already know, don’t you?” Sirius asked. His voice sounded bitter, more bitter than he was
expecting, but after all, he’d never expressed the rage that had welled up inside him at the news,
only the grief. It’d been bound to make an appearance sometime. He glanced over at Andromeda.
“You’re the one who told her to come here.”

“I—” James glanced at Andromeda, looking confused, then back to Sirius. “I thought she might be
able to help, Sirius.”

“Help what?” Sirius asked. “Help me accept that my brother’s dead? Well, mission accomplished.
I’ve accepted it. Congratulations.”

There was a long silence, where James stared at Sirius, nonplussed, and Peter’s gaze flicked
between them all. Remus’ eyes were fixed on Sirius, too, a crease between his brows and a frown
upon his face.

“What’s happened?” Remus repeated James’ question after a moment, his gaze still fixed on Sirius.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Sirius asked loudly, standing up. His plate, which still had a bit of lasagna
on it, fell to the floor, but no one made a move to pick it up. “Regulus is dead! My brother is
dead!”

They all just stared at him, each of their expressions a different range of confused, shocked, and
taken aback.

“But that’s what you all wanted, isn’t it?” Sirius demanded, his voice rising. “As soon as I got that
fucking letter, you told me that he was dead. Ever since he joined the Death Eaters, you all wanted
him gone. You two—” He gestured at James and Remus agitatedly. “You two told me to give up
on him as soon as he went over to them! You told me he was a lost cause! Now that he’s dead, you
must be happy.”

“Padfoot,” James said, starting forward and shaking his head. “We’d never wish—”

“Oh, really?” Sirius demanded. His combination of grief and rage was making him feel
disconnected somehow, and he felt reckless, like he had nothing to lose. He was itching to lash out
at someone. “Because it sure fucking seemed like it! And anyway, I might’ve been able to save
him if not for you lot! Maybe I’d have been able to spend his last years with him if I wasn’t friends
with you all!”

“Oh, that’s a bit rich,” James retorted, firing up a bit, too. “You’re saying you wish you’d stuck
with your family, then, and been a good little pureblood right alongside him?”

“If that’s what would’ve kept him alive, maybe I should’ve!” Sirius retorted, not quite knowing
what he was saying. “Now he’s dead—my brother is dead!”

He strode around the couch and past the rest of the Marauders into the kitchen, where Icarus still
sat on the fridge, watching the proceedings. Sirius pointed a shaky, almost accusing finger up at
the owl.

“And his fucking owl knows it because he won’t leave, because there’s nothing for him to go back
to, just like there’s nothing for me to go back to! And I don’t want him here!” Icarus looked a little
affronted, perhaps at Sirius’ loud voice and accusing manner.

“I can’t even look at him without thinking about—” Sirius’ voice shook, and he broke off, turning
away from the owl, and all of their faces, which he couldn’t bear to look at. He breathed in and out
deeply.

“I’ll take him,” Andromeda offered, standing up and walking over to Sirius to put a comforting
hand on his shoulder. “I’ll take him, Sirius. He doesn’t have to be here.”

Sirius didn’t acknowledge her offer, but he didn’t shrug her hand off, either. He was taking deep,
steadying breaths, trying to drive off the growing panic in him, along with the rage that was
demanding release.

“Why’d you come here, anyway?” Sirius asked James, his back still turned to him. There was a
pause, then James answered, his tone cautious.

“I wrote to Anna Fawley a few days ago,” he said. “I asked her to let me know if Regulus was back
at Hogwarts. She just wrote back.” He trailed off, but Sirius didn’t need him to continue.

Sirius let out a short, mirthless laugh, and turned to them again. All three boys were looking at him
with apprehensive looks on their faces. “So you all came to break the news to me, then?” he asked.
“Well, you’re a little late.”

“Can you stop?” Peter piped up indignantly. “It’s not our fault he’s dead, Sirius!”

“Well, maybe if you all hadn’t told me to abandon him, I could’ve helped him before he had to
desert the Death Eaters and die because of it! Maybe I could’ve reached him!”

“I never said—” Peter began, anger flaring in his eyes, but Remus interrupted him.

“You tried to reach him, remember, Sirius?” Remus asked, giving him a pointed look. “After the
Death Eater attack on Hogsmeade, you spent half the night calling to him outside the Slytherin
common room, and he didn’t answer. He didn’t want to be saved, and it didn’t matter what we said
about it.”

Sirius flinched back from Remus’ pointed words. Of course he remembered that night. The
memory of it felt like a weapon in Remus’ hand.
“Well, maybe,” he retorted, fixing his steely glare on Remus, “if I hadn’t been dating some half-
blood werewolf, he might’ve accepted me back. Maybe you were the nail in the coffin.”

It was Remus’ turn to flinch now, and Sirius felt a rush of satisfaction go through him as he saw
Remus recoil. He’d given up on holding the wave of anger back by that point. He liked this rage; it
was much better than grief. They all stared at him, James’ and Peter’s eyes full of anger, Remus’
hurt and defiant. Andromeda was the first person who spoke.

“Sirius, maybe you should take a walk,” she said. “Before you say something else that you’ll
regret.”

Sirius didn’t answer her, just strode toward the door and unlocked it, swinging his jacket over his
shoulders and shoving his feet into his boots. Then, he was gone, leaving the others’ angry faces in
his wake.

....

It was Dorcas who found Sirius, hours later, in the Leaky Cauldron. She slid onto the stool next to
him, and he didn’t have to look to recognize her, instead catching a whiff of her signature scent and
sighing.

“How did you find me?” he asked, his voice slurring slightly. He’d been drinking ever since he’d
left his flat, and it helped, just like the rage had.

“Lucky guess,” she returned. He knew she was looking at him, but he didn’t turn her way, focusing
instead on cradling his firewhiskey in his hands.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” she said after a long moment. “I’m really, really sorry, Sirius.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, too,” Sirius replied, his tone wry. “Really, really sorry.”

Dorcas made a soft noise in her throat, something like exasperation mixed with sympathy. “Don’t
do that,” she said. “You’ve pushed everyone else away, but I’m not leaving. I’m not that easy to
trick.”

Sirius didn’t reply, just continued to stare down at his drink. He heard her shift in her chair, still
facing him, not deterred by his avoidance of her gaze.

“How do you deal with it all, Sirius? All the things that have happened to you in your life?” she
asked, after several long moments of silence. Her tone was sympathetic, but Sirius thought he heard
curiosity in it, too.

This, above all else, made him turn to look at her. Her dark eyes were full of concern, care, and
sympathy for him. He thought about when she’d hugged him in their third year, the first one to do
so when he’d told them all the story of his family. He sighed and raised his glass to take a long
drink.

“Anger,” he replied, his voice gruff. “I learned it young.”

“How young?” Dorcas asked gently. Sirius shook his head, looking back down at his drink.

“Too young,” he admitted. There was a long silence, then he added: “After a while, you reach a
breaking point, and it beats self-hatred.”

Sirius could still feel her eyes on him, giving him a searching, assessing look. “Did Regulus learn
it, too?” she asked finally. Sirius shook his head, still not looking at her.

“I don’t think he ever did,” he said quietly.

He stared down into the glass, the memory of when he and Regulus had found their way into his
father’s liquor cabinet for his eleventh birthday flashing through his mind. And again, the image of
his back, straight as a poker, as Sirius said his last goodbye to him when he left Grimmauld Place.

“He was stuck at self-hatred, I think. Straight ticket to where he got,” Sirius finished. He laughed
coldly and mimed the sounds of a plane crashing and an explosion. Dorcas didn’t laugh.

“So you think you’ll never die because you’ve got anger to keep you alive?” she asked, her voice
containing just a hint of the incredulity that he knew she was working hard to conceal.

“If I play my cards right,” Sirius said, turning to grin at her, though he felt cold inside. “Kept alive
on pure spite, just like my dear old mum. I’ll be around longer than the rest of you, I’d wager.”

“What about love, then?”

“What about it?” Sirius asked bitterly. Dorcas gave him a pointed look.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m the only one you haven’t driven away right about now. And
don’t get me wrong, Sirius, you’re my friend, but you have a lot of people who are closer to you
than I am.”

Sirius didn’t reply, just continued to stare into his drink. Dorcas went on, unrelenting.

“I heard about what you said to Remus,” she said. “Pretty fucked up.”

Sirius still didn’t look at her, trying to push down the lump rising in his throat along with the
memory of the look on Remus’ face, hours ago. He wondered who’d told Dorcas about that
encounter.

“Not unforgivable, though,” she continued tentatively. “Everyone knows you’re hurting, Sirius.
They won’t hold it against you.”

“I wish they would,” Sirius said, looking up at her, bitterness flooding his voice as pain rushed
back in. He hated this vulnerability, wished she’d just go away and stop trying to make him feel it
rather than push it down. “I wish everyone would just leave me, once and for all. It’s what I
deserve, after everything I’ve said and done. You all should’ve left me years ago.”

Dorcas gave him a sad smile. “No such luck,” she said. “We love you.”

“I wish you wouldn’t,” Sirius said softly, shaking his head. Dorcas only looked at him, sorrow
shining in her dark eyes.

“What was that you said about anger getting rid of self-hatred, Sirius?”

Sirius sighed. “It catches up to me,” he admitted.

Dorcas gave him a sad smile, then stood up from the bar and hoisted one of his arms over her
shoulder. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get you home.”

When Sirius returned to his flat that night, it was empty, but he’d expected that. He climbed into
his and Remus’ bed and wondered where Remus had gone before sleep crashed over him, and he
thought no more.
 1980: Torn Apart
Chapter Notes

cw: blood, injury, unplanned pregnancy

For a week after he’d accepted the news of Regulus’ death, Sirius spent his days in a haze of liquor
and grief. He alternated between bouts of rage, during which he threw things across the flat and
cursed his family at the top of his lungs, and horrible sadness, which left him curled on his and
Remus’ bed or their couch, unable to move due to the leaden weight that had taken up residence in
his stomach.

Remus didn’t return from wherever he was staying. Sirius wasn’t sure if he was with James and
Peter or with the wolves on Coleridge Road, but either way, he wasn’t coming home anytime soon.
Neither James nor Peter came to visit Sirius. Perhaps they thought their presence wouldn’t help
Sirius, only set him off further, or perhaps they were just angry with him. Sirius didn’t blame them.
Marlene had come by one day and knocked on the door for ten minutes, calling to him, but Sirius
had ignored her, and she hadn’t returned.

The only person who didn’t seem to have hang-ups about forcing her way in was Dorcas, who’d
turned up two times over the course of the week to check on him. She’d threatened to break down
the door unless he let her in after five minutes of knocking, and he’d reluctantly obliged.
Presumably, she was the one assuring the others that he was still alive—if they even still cared.

It wasn’t Dorcas, however, who eventually managed to pull Sirius out of the well he’d fallen into.
On Sunday morning, in the second week of January, Sirius awoke to the sounds of insistent
knocking on the door of his flat. His eyes fluttered open, and he blinked several times to clear the
haze from them, then pushed himself up. As soon as Sirius was upright, his head began to ache, and
he groaned. He turned to squint at the alarm clock on his bedside table—whose alarm had
admittedly been turned off for a while—and saw that it was nine a.m..

“What the fuck?” Sirius groaned, swinging his legs out of bed unwillingly and stumbling to his
feet. Who on earth had so little decency as to call on him this early? Whoever it was would get an
earful, that was for sure. Looking down to make sure he was wearing pants, Sirius shuffled slowly
out of his bedroom and to the front door. The light that shone through the windows in the sitting
room hurt his eyes, and the sound of knocking on his door sounded like drums beating on the
inside of his skull.

He reached to unlock the deadbolt and swung the door open, looking down at the person who’d
decided to wake him before noon, his mouth opening to deliver a sharp remonstrance. He stopped,
blinking in confusion, his mouth staying open as he took in the sight of one of the last people he’d
expected to see standing on his doorstep, a familiar mixture of stern reproval and concerned
affection on her lined face.

“M—mum,” he stammered, color rushing into his cheeks as he looked down at her, the anger
wiped from his face in a second. Euphemia’s expression softened as the word slipped from his lips.
He still rarely used it with her—frightened by the enormity of what it meant for him—but over the
years it’d started to feel more and more right. Even calling her Euphemia seemed strange these
days, though Sirius could still remember the times when he’d been hesitant to call her anything
more personal than ‘Mrs. Potter.’

“Sirius,” Euphemia returned. “I suppose I woke you?” Her eyes flicked down to take in his attire.

Sirius’ cheeks grew even redder. He was used to greeting his friends at his door wearing little
clothing—it didn’t seem to bother any of them—but Euphemia was completely different. He
realized, too, that he still hadn’t told her about his tattoo, which lay uncovered on his chest.

He cleared his throat, trying to regain composure. “I wasn’t expecting you,” he said.

Euphemia raised a single eyebrow at him. “Clearly,” she said. Then, without waiting to be invited,
she pushed past him into the flat, leaving Sirius to curse himself and close the door behind her.

When he turned to face her again, he saw that she was giving her surroundings a once-over. Her
dark eyes scanned over all the broken things on the floor, the crumpled and torn pieces of paper
lying on the couch from all the times he’d tried to sketch and gotten angry at the results, the empty
firewhiskey bottles sitting on the coffee table, and the dirty dishes in the sink. While Remus had
been there, Sirius had been messy, but the flat hadn’t been actually dirty. Now, it was disgusting.

Euphemia turned back to look at Sirius, and Sirius saw the concern shining in her dark eyes. She
opened her arms for him, and slowly, hesitantly, Sirius walked toward her and allowed her to wrap
him in a hug. Her fingers stroked down his hair in a way that made his throat constrict with unshed
tears, which he swallowed back determinedly.

After a long moment, Euphemia released him, though she reached up to cup his face in her hands,
examining him closely. Sirius’ gaze dropped away from hers. He knew what she saw: the puffy,
bloodshot eyes from many days of tears, the stubble on his jawline, his bitten lips, and the tangled
mess that was his hair.

“Go shower,” she commanded gently but firmly after a few seconds of examination. “And drink
some water, while you’re at it. I’m going to tidy up out here.”

Sirius didn’t bother to protest; he didn’t have the energy to do anything except mumble a quick
“thanks, mum,” and shuffle over to the loo. As he closed the door behind him, he could already
hear her muttering spells, and the soft chink of his belongings beginning to piece themselves back
together. He sighed, switched on the bathroom light, and walked over to the sink. Avoiding looking
at his reflection, he turned on the tap and stuck his face under it, gulping down big mouthfuls of
cold water and letting the excess wash over his chin. Once he’d drank as much as he could
stomach, Sirius switched off the tap and moved to turn on the shower.

He made a valiant effort to comb out his hair with his fingers while waiting for the water to warm
up, though he wasn’t sure if he’d gotten all the tangles out. When he stepped under the warm spray,
he sighed. He couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d bathed, but it’d definitely not been in
the last week. He hadn’t registered how bad he smelled, really, until Euphemia had told him to
shower. Now, he was glad to wash off a week’s worth of liquor smell, along with the dried sweat
and tears that had come from his personal method of mourning. It wasn’t as if he could really wash
off his grief, but at the moment, it felt like the closest he could get to doing so.

When Sirius stepped out of the shower, he found that Euphemia had slipped a folded stack of clean
clothes under the door for him, and he dressed. When he exited the loo, he had to blink in surprise
at the transformation the flat had undergone in what he assumed was only ten minutes. Euphemia
had vanished all of the refuse that Sirius had collected over the course of the week and repaired
many of the things he’d broken, returning them to their usual places. She stood in the kitchen now,
her wand raised as she supervised a pan cooking on the stove. Sirius assumed she must’ve brought
some ingredients from home, as he didn’t think he had much in the fridge.

Sirius sat at the counter, making her look up and give him a smile. “In my experience, things
always seem better when you’re clean and fed,” she said. She pulled a plate out of one of his
cupboards and served him some scrambled eggs, mixed with vegetables and spices that he knew
from many meals at the Potters’ table, but had never been confident enough in his own cooking
ability to use himself.

“Thank you,” he said again, and his voice came out a bit hoarse. He cleared his throat and
continued. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“Of course I did,” Euphemia replied, cleaning the pan with a swish of her wand, then rounding the
counter to sit beside him. “You weren’t going to do it for yourself, so what else would I do?”

Sirius swallowed down the lump in his throat and picked up his fork, beginning to eat. The eggs
tasted good, though it felt like every mouthful was an effort. Euphemia didn’t speak while he ate
them, but he could feel her eyes on him. When he’d finally choked down the last bite, she took his
plate and cleaned it with a quick spell, too, then stood to replace it in the cupboard. Then, she
leaned her elbows on the counter and looked at him, her head slightly tilted to one side, every line
in her face full of concern and care, so much that it almost hurt him to meet her gaze.

“I was very sorry to hear about your brother, Sirius,” she said, her eyes intent upon him. “I know
that you loved him very much.”

Sirius looked away from her, out toward the big windows in the sitting room, blinking away the
tears that had sprung into his eyes at the mention of Regulus.

“I know that you may not want to talk about it,” she continued. “But I think I know how you feel. I
lost my brother, too, a long time ago.”

This made Sirius snap his head back around to stare at her. “You did?” he asked. He’d never heard
Euphemia talk about her family before. He knew that she hadn’t been born in Britain, nor had she
attended Hogwarts, but had both moved to England from India and met Fleamont Potter as an adult.
She’d never discussed her background beyond that.

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “I lost all my family, and he was the last one. I was only a few years
older than you when it happened.”

“Was that before you came here?” Sirius asked, his curiosity momentarily distracting him from his
grief.

“I came to England just after my brother died,” Euphemia confirmed. “I had nothing else keeping
me in my home, and I was angry. England seemed like as good a place as any to be angry. It
seemed like the best place, actually, seeing as part of me wanted to tear this country apart for what
it did to me and mine.”

Sirius stared at her. He’d seen Euphemia angry, of course, but not in a way that ever seemed to
have fire behind it. She’d scolded him and James, had told them off for not being cautious enough
or not cleaning up after themselves, but he’d never seen the sort of rage in her that he himself
possessed in such copious amounts, or like that of Walburga Black. She gave him a knowing smile
as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

“You may well be surprised,” she said. “I’ve never shown you or James that side of myself much.
It’s still there, but I’ve never had much reason to be angry at you two, and I learned when I was
young how to direct my anger at the people who deserved it.”

“But you didn’t come here and tear this country apart,” Sirius blurted out, then colored slightly.
Euphemia smiled.

“Oh, I did, in some ways,” she said, her smile reminiscent, a faraway look in her eyes. “But you are
right: I found something here that I never expected to. I fell in love with an Englishman, got
married, and settled down. I found ways to tear things apart, but I found things to build, too.”

Her dark eyes refocused on him as if she’d pulled herself out of her memories again. “I saw myself
in you the moment I met you,” she said, giving him a small smile. “And my point in telling you all
of this is to say that it’s alright to want to tear things apart sometimes. But I learned when I was
young that if I tried to tear apart the whole world, I would run the risk of tearing myself apart along
with it, along with the people I loved.”

Her gaze upon him was earnest, and her words forced his tears to the surface once more.

“I loved him,” Sirius choked out. He looked across at her, pleading for understanding, feeling raw
and vulnerable under her gaze. “He was the only person I had for so long. He was—” He stopped,
not sure how exactly to put into words the way that he’d always felt, the certainty that he’d known
as far back as he could remember: that Regulus was his to protect.

“I know,” Euphemia said, and her eyes took on a wet sheen, too, as she looked at him. “I don’t
mean to discount any of the grief you are feeling right now. But I don’t want you to be alone in it,
and I fear that you’ve put yourself into that position lately.”

Sirius blinked, wiping his eyes, and nodded, avoiding her gaze. “I’ve pushed people away,” he
admitted.

Euphemia nodded. “I know,” she said. “I’ve had four teenagers knock on my door, all at different
times this week, all to tell me how worried about you they are. I had hoped that you would be one
of them, but you never came, so I came to you instead.”

“I’m not a teenager anymore,” Sirius pointed out, giving her a slight, half-hearted smile.

Euphemia smiled back and reached over to pat his cheek gently. “No matter your age,” she said.
“You can always come to me. You know that, I hope?”

“I know,” Sirius said, letting out a long exhale of breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“Thank you.”

Euphemia smiled, letting go of his cheek, but he pulled her forward into a hug, and she held him
close, her hand tracing comfortingly across his back. When he released her, she gave him a slight,
amused smile.

“Don’t think I’m not going to mention the tattoo you’ve clearly been hiding from me,” she said. “I
suppose that’s why you looked so guilty whenever you were around me for half of September?”

A sheepish look crossed Sirius’ face. “Yeah,” he said, giving her an apologetic smile. “I suppose I
didn’t want another telling off about it.”

Euphemia grinned knowingly. “I know you, Sirius,” she said. “I know that you’ve changed a lot
over the years, but there are moments when I look at you and all I see is the thirteen-year-old boy I
met after your second year at Hogwarts: quick to love, despite your better efforts, and putting off
the consequences until later.”
Sirius’ mouth fell open in surprise, and Euphemia laughed. “I studied Ancient Runes when I was a
child, too,” she said. “I know what the amalgamation symbol means, and I would never have told
you off about it. I knew the first moment I saw you look at Remus, and he at you, that you loved
him. You’ve never in your life loved someone half-heartedly, so why would I expect you to hold
back when it came to him?”

Sirius flushed red. He had, of course, already told Euphemia long ago about him and Remus, but it
still felt strange for her to so wholeheartedly support them together. A lump rose in his throat when
he thought of the last words he’d spoken to Remus.

“I think I messed things up with him,” he admitted shamefully. “I said some things the last time we
saw each other…” He trailed off and shook his head, too ashamed to repeat his harsh words to
Euphemia.

Euphemia put a comforting hand on Sirius’ shoulder. “You’ll fix it,” she said, giving him a small
smile as he looked back up at her. “I have confidence that you can fix things with all of your
friends, too. They love you, and they’re worried about you. I think that you should reach out.”

Sirius nodded and took a deep breath, letting it out in a long sigh. “I will,” he said. Perhaps it was
the food, feeling clean for the first time in days, or Euphemia’s presence, but Sirius was beginning
to feel a bit better. The leaden weight in his stomach had lightened a bit, though his grief was ever-
present.

“I kind of wrecked my job, too,” he admitted, thinking about the confrontation in the Auror office.
“I don’t think I can go back to the Ministry.”

Euphemia, surprisingly, didn’t look perturbed and only shrugged. “You don’t need a job, not with
your inheritance,” she pointed out. “You just need purpose.”

“I don’t know what that should be,” Sirius said, sighing.

Euphemia tilted her head and gave him a strange smile. “Yes, you do,” she said.

Sirius stared at her, a smile spreading across his face as he took in the mischievous look that she
was giving him. “What do you mean?” he asked, though he thought he knew.

She shrugged, and the mischievous smile on her face grew. “You don’t need to be an Auror to fight
Voldemort. Like I said earlier, there are some things that it’s alright to tear apart.”

....

Two hours later, Sirius knocked on the door to Peter’s and James’ flat tentatively. He waited,
rocking on the balls of his feet, as he heard someone’s footsteps approaching, his heart beating
unreasonably fast. He hated apologizing.

The door swung open to reveal a head of dark red hair, and when Lily turned to look at him from
yelling something behind her, her eyes widened in surprise.

“Sirius!” she exclaimed, and before he knew it, he was being pulled into a rib-cracking hug. “I’ve
been so worried about you,” Lily said, her voice slightly muffled in his shoulder, her arms tight
around his waist. “I wanted to come to check on you, but—” She pulled back from him, and Sirius
could see that her eyes had filled with sudden tears. She sniffed loudly, then wiped at them with the
back of her hand.

“Come in, come in,” she said, beckoning him inside. “James and Peter are in James’ room right
now.”

Sirius stepped inside, looking around in confusion as he did so. The sitting room looked very
different from when he’d last been there. There were many boxes placed around it, and the couch
was sitting in the middle of the room as if someone had started to move it and then given up
halfway through.

“What’s going on?” he asked, glancing over at Lily.

“Packing, moving, you know, the works,” Lily said with a shrug. Then, her eyes widened. “Of
course, I forgot you haven’t been in the loop these past few weeks.” Her face fell. “Sorry, that
came out much more insensitive than I intended it to.”

“It’s okay,” Sirius said, though a pang of regret had run through him at her words. Lily looked at
him, tilting her head to examine him in a similar way that Euphemia had, just hours before.

“No, it isn’t,” she said softly. “But we can pretend that it is if that would help.”

Sirius appreciated, for a moment, that Lily was one of the only people he knew who could most
relate to what he was going through. Her mother had died only a year and a half ago. The pain was
still fresh for her, too.

“Thanks,” he said. “It would help, I think.”

“Okay,” Lily said. She gave him a soft smile, then seemed to shake herself back to reality. “James
and I are moving in together,” she explained. “So Peter found a new place of his own, back in
Bradford.”

“Wow,” Sirius said, raising his eyebrows. “Finally making you two living together official, then?”
His voice held a teasing note that felt foreign to him at the moment, but Lily smiled, rolling her
eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she said. “I suppose marriage seemed like a big enough deal to officially
share a place.”

“So where are you two going to live?” Sirius asked.

Lily flushed slightly in embarrassment. “James’ parents bought us a house,” she admitted, lowering
her voice as if it was somehow shameful. “They really shouldn’t have, but they insisted, and I gave
in. It’s in Godric’s Hollow.”

Sirius grinned. It was just like Fleamont and Euphemia to do something like that. “When you
started dating James, you should’ve wrapped your head around the fact that you were dating one of
the richest people at Hogwarts,” he pointed out, shrugging. “Of course the Potters wanted to buy
you a house. They have the money, and that’s the kind of people they are. They’re generous.”

“I’ve always known it,” Lily said. “But it’s still hard to wrap my head around, even now.”

“So what about the girls, then?” Sirius asked. “Are Hestia, Mary, and Emmeline finding a new
place, too?”

“No,” Lily explained, shaking her head. “Mary’s going to move out, too, though. She wants to find
her own place nearer to the Sanctuary since it’s cheaper out there anyway. So Tia’s going to move
into our room, and they’ll split the rent 50/50 instead of in fourths. They both make more now than
when we moved in, so they can afford it. And by whatever magic they worked when we found the
place, the rent hasn’t increased at all since we moved in. It all worked out.”

“Lily, who are you—” James’ voice issued from the direction of his room, but he broke off when
he appeared in the doorway and spotted Sirius.

“Sirius,” he said, relief evident in his voice, though he walked slowly towards his friend to hug
him, and Sirius knew that there was still some wariness there, leftover from their last interaction.

“Hey, Prongs,” Sirius said, returning his hug. He felt James let out a breath, relaxing slightly
against him, but he pulled back after a moment or two.

“I’m really sorry about all the things I said last week,” Sirius said, looking up at him, shame and
apprehension coursing through him. “I didn’t mean them.”

“I know,” James said, gently, putting a hand on Sirius’ shoulder. “I forgive you.”

“Hey, Padfoot,” Peter said from the doorway. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was
leaning against the doorframe, a wary expression on his face.

“Hey, Wormtail,” Sirius replied, looking over at him. “I’m sorry for what I said before. You were
right. It wasn’t any of your faults that—” he broke off, swallowing a lump in his throat. He didn’t
think he could say Regulus’ name aloud, not now. “—that he died,” he finished softly.

Peter looked at him almost appraisingly for a moment, as if he was deciding whether or not he
could hold a grudge, but slowly, he uncrossed his arms and they fell to his sides.

“I really am sorry that he’s dead, you know,” he said genuinely, gazing at Sirius in a way that
Sirius knew meant Peter must’ve forgiven him but also pricked at something deep inside of Sirius,
as if his words were picking off a scab. “I really am. He was your brother, no matter what else he
did.”

Sirius found he couldn’t reply, then, but gave a short, grateful nod, and hoped that Peter would
know how much he appreciated his words, even if they hurt him, too. When he looked back around
at James, his gaze was on the ground, and he looked troubled. Lily’s eyes were filled with fresh
tears, which threatened to spill over onto her cheeks. He gave her a small smile. It was unusual for
her to be so on the edge of tears, but perhaps the grief was too much of a reminder for her.

When Sirius finally found his voice again, he asked: “I suppose Remus isn’t staying here, then, if
you two are moving out?”

James looked back up at him and shook his head. “He kipped on our couch the first night after
everything,” he said. “But after that, he said he was going to stay with the werewolves, and we
haven’t seen him since.”

Sirius nodded, a pang of worry going through him, though he quickly pushed it away. Remus had
stayed on Coleridge Road for longer than a week before, and that had been when Remus and Sirius
weren’t fighting.

“He’ll come back eventually,” James reassured him, reading Sirius’ mind. Sirius met his gaze and
nodded.

“I know,” he said, though the note of doubt in his voice belied his words.

There was a rather awkward pause, when the unspoken knowledge of what had passed between
Sirius and Remus that night a week ago hung in the air. Sirius broke it by clapping his hands
together and looking around at all of them.

“So, can I help with the move?”

After that, Lily, who seemed to be directing the moving efforts, put Sirius to work, and Sirius was
grateful for the four hours he spent packing things into boxes, shrinking furniture, and wiping
every surface clean by magic, as these tasks helped him to avoid thinking about anything else.
After they’d purged the flat of all their belongings except for those contained in the boxes they
stacked in the sitting room, Sirius helped them move their things into their new places. He got to
see both Peter’s new flat in Bradford and the cottage that Euphemia and Fleamont had bought for
Lily and James in Godric’s Hollow, as he helped them move the boxes in and unpack their things.

Sirius had never spent much time in villages like Godric’s Hollow, which were home to so many
wizarding families, but he found he liked the area, and felt it suited James and Lily. James, of
course, would always yearn for the countryside, but there would always be the house on
Blacksmith Hill to visit.

When the sun had set, and they’d managed to unpack most of the boxes, the four of them gathered
in Lily and James’ sitting room and pulled out a menu to order takeaway pizza. While James
apparated back to London to pick it up, Sirius commented to Lily:

“I thought you said you two were trying to learn to cook.”

Lily laughed. “James is learning,” she corrected him. “He’s actually getting quite good, but today’s
been a long day. I want pizza.”

“Amen,” Peter agreed, taking a long gulp of water and settling back into his chair, sighing tiredly.
“James gets a little overenthusiastic sometimes, too, and tries to make something far beyond his
level. Today is not a roll-the-dice kind of day.”

Sirius and Lily laughed just as the door opened and James reappeared, but he wasn’t holding their
food. His eyes were wide, and he stared around at them all. Sirius, Lily, and Peter sat straight up in
their seats, suddenly forgetting their weariness and sore muscles, waiting to hear whatever news
had made him look so scared.

“Did you—did you get—” he started, but he didn’t have to finish, as Sirius’ metal phoenix, which
he wore around his wrist, began to grow warm. Lily’s and Peter’s had clearly done the same, as in
dreaded unison, they raised them to examine the back. The message etched there made Sirius’
heart sink in his chest: V attacking MoM. All respond ASAP.

In a second, Sirius was on his feet, pulling his wand out of his back pocket, Lily had pulled her hair
into a ponytail and was extricating her own wand from her boot, and Peter’s jaw was clenched, his
face white, as he rose from his chair.

“How did you get it before us?” Lily asked James, standing up, wand raised in her hand. James
shook his head.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe the person who sent the message is in London, and it spreads
outwards geographically? I just wanted to come back so that we could go together. That way I’ll
know where you all are.”

Sirius nodded. “Let’s go,” he said. He was the first out the door into the backyard, then the first to
turn on the spot into compressing darkness, adrenaline already coursing through him. He was
ready for a fight.
When Sirius arrived in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic, he was immediately bombarded by
noise. He opened his eyes to see Lily appear next to him, James and Peter closely behind her, all
their heads turning to find the source of the commotion, like him. It was hard to see: people were
running everywhere with scared looks on their faces, screaming and yelling to one another as they
tried to escape the source of their terror. Through the mayhem, however, Sirius saw flashes of light
coming from the direction of the fountain in the middle of the room, in the center of which stood a
great marble statue of the wizard Merlin, and Sirius ran towards it without further thought, the
others fast on his heels.

As they drew closer, the crowd thinned, and Sirius could see flashes of the wizards fighting. While
the Death Eaters all wore dark cloaks and masks, Lord Voldemort was easy to identify, as he was
the only one who hadn’t bothered to hide his face. His appearance was shocking, and even Sirius
had to suppress a shiver. The red eyes, pale skin that looked almost see-through in the bright lights,
and slits for nostrils made him look almost inhuman, and the cold fury on his face was terrible to
behold.

Dumbledore faced him, wand raised, an aura of power surrounding him as he deflected and
countered each jet of light Voldemort shot at him. Around them, other Order members battled
Voldemort’s Death Eaters. Sirius spotted Caradoc Dearborn dueling two masked figures alongside
Alice Longbottom, Moody driving another one back step by step until the man collided with the
fountain and stumbled, and Marlene’s blonde hair flying around her as she exchanged spells with a
shorter Death Eater a few feet away from him. Sirius caught only flashes of others through the
crowd, but he didn’t stop to look to see who was there, only raised his wand and dove into the fray.

Sirius shot a spell at the Death Eater who Marlene had been battling, and the figure dropped their
wand, cursing, surprised by another attacker. Marlene turned, too, surprise written all over her face,
but she grinned when she saw him, though neither had time to greet one another. Sirius continued
to move through the crowd, and eventually, he found himself dueling a tall Death Eater, matching
him spell for spell.

Adrenaline coursed through him, but fear was there, too, and in the moments when he could, he
looked around to the others, trying to see how the tide was turning in general. In one of these
moments, he caught sight of Mary, a deadly expression on her small, heart-shaped face as she
advanced upon a Death Eater who she’d managed to floor, his mask falling from his face in the
process. With a jolt of satisfaction, Sirius recognized Avery, one of the ringleaders of the Slytherin
gang who’d attacked Mary in her fifth year. Now, it was he who looked afraid, his dark hair
sticking to his sweaty forehead, eyes wide as he looked up at her.

Unfortunately, the moment Sirius had spent enjoying the sight of Mary getting her revenge cost
him dearly. Having taken his eyes from his attacker too long, the Death Eater shot a spell at Sirius
that caused him to fly back with such force that he hit the side of Merlin’s marble statue. The force
dazed him, his torso aching from the impact, so when he slid down the statue gracelessly and fell
into the fountain, he was unable to prevent himself from going under.

Underwater, the noise from the battle was somewhat muted, but even then, Sirius couldn’t miss the
sound of an explosion from above him. He opened his eyes to see Merlin’s marble face disappear in
a cloud of smoke and dust, and when the rubble began to rain down onto him, he was powerless to
stop it. Instead, he shut his eyes tight and felt the impact of each piece of marble as it fell onto his
body, sinking him to the bottom of the pool.

Sirius’ lungs ached, and he fought to shove the pieces off, but his limbs were heavy. Even the
noises above had become quieter, and vaguely, Sirius wondered if he was dying. He fought harder,
but his efforts seemed useless. Then, hands grabbed him from above, and, with what seemed to
Sirius like superhuman strength, they lifted him out of the pool, the pieces of marble that had been
pressing him down tumbling back into the pool easily. Sirius was deposited in a sitting position,
and he began to cough, water expelling from his nose and mouth as he did so. It hadn’t been his
hearing: the noise had died down in the hall. Strangely, however, he didn’t feel much pain, despite
his recent almost-drowning, and the earlier impact with the statue. When Sirius finally opened his
eyes, the thin face, light brown hair, and blue eyes of Remus Lupin swam into focus before him.

“Are you alright?” Remus demanded, crouching in front of him, the sleeves of his sweater dripping
wet.

Behind Remus, Sirius could see that the Death Eaters appeared to have vanished, leaving only the
Order members and Aurors who’d stayed to fight them. He also noticed that Remus’ clothes and
hair were covered in a thin layer of white dust, presumably from the exploding statue, and that
there was a cut on his forehead, trickling blood down the side of his face.

Sirius nodded, trying to catch his breath. Remus’ gaze scanned down Sirius’ body, his expression
doubtful, checking for other injuries. When Sirius caught his breath, he choked out two words, his
voice hoarse.

“I’m sorry,” he said, staring at Remus. Remus stared back at him, surprise clouding his blue eyes
for a moment as he held Sirius’ gaze. Then, he seemed to pull a screen down over them and moved
away from Sirius, standing up.

“Stay here,” he said shortly, avoiding Sirius’ gaze. “I have to check on the others.”

Instead of obeying, Sirius struggled to his feet. “I’m fine,” he insisted, finally having caught his
breath. “I can help.” Remus gave him another doubtful look, but he didn’t challenge Sirius, instead
hurrying towards a figure who was sitting up against the fountain and crouching down beside
them.

Sirius shook his head as if to clear it, then turned to find someone that needed help. He spotted
Dorcas leaning against a pillar, her hand on her arm, which seemed to be bleeding. Marlene was
next to her, but Sirius hurried over to them as well.

“Are you alright?” he demanded, eyes flicking from her face to what must be a deep slash on her
upper arm, which had coated the rest of her arm in red. Dorcas nodded and actually grinned at him.

“Fine,” she said. “The bleeding’s stopped.”

“Who did it?” Marlene demanded, looking frightened as she supported Dorcas, her arm around her
waist.

“Rosier,” Dorcas replied, a satisfied grin still on her face. “He went after me pretty quick. Don’t
worry, though, I paid him back. Had him running for the hills.” She paused, her smile growing.
“Again.”

“Alright,” Marlene said, a rather amused look flashing across her face despite her concern for her
girlfriend. “I think you should sit down.”

“You’re alright, right?” Sirius asked Marlene, giving her a once-over.

“Fine,” Marlene said, smiling at him. “What about you?” With the slight tilt of her head when she
asked, Sirius knew she meant more than just his physical injuries.

“I’m alright,” he said. She narrowed her eyes at him quizzically.

“Why are you all wet?”

Sirius grinned. “I’ll tell you later,” he said, then raced off again.

He found Emmeline, Hestia, Mary, and Peter standing nearby, all covered in dust but unharmed,
and Frank bandaging a cut on Alice’s leg while Benjy looked on exhaustedly, a few feet away
from them. Sirius avoided Moody’s gaze, but Dearborn gave him a slight nod, which he returned.
Dumbledore, he saw, was standing talking to an old wizard who he knew was Harold Minchum,
the Minister for Magic. He looked rather cowed by whatever Dumbledore was saying to him.

Still, Sirius’ anxiety grew when he couldn’t find Lily or James in the crowd. He circled the
fountain, and on the other side, finally, he spotted them: two figures covered in dust, the red of her
hair almost obscured by the powder. The moment of relief was sharply broken when he registered
the scene: James was crouching by the fountain on his knees, and Lily lay limp in his arms, her
eyes closed, face bloodless. James seemed to sense Sirius’ presence, as he looked up at him, hazel
eyes wide and desperate.

“She won’t wake up,” he said, his voice sounding cracked and broken. “Sirius, she won’t wake
up!”

....

After they’d deposited Lily in St. Mungo’s, the Healers shut the door on them, leaving them to
wait outside her room. Sirius still felt the adrenaline from the night’s events coursing through him,
and he didn’t sit but paced outside the door. Sometimes, he glanced over at Remus, who was
slumped in a chair, but Remus avoided his eyes. James was a wreck: he had a deep gash on his
forearm, but it took his supervisory Healer coming in and pulling rank on him for him to let the
mediwizards heal it. He paced now, too, wringing his hands and casting terrified looks toward the
door.

Mary had seated herself on the floor beside it, seemingly unwilling to move more than a few feet
away from the room where her best friend lay. Tears ran slowly down her cheeks, making tracks in
the dust left there. When they’d first arrived, Remus had had to calm Mary down as she’d had a
panic attack on the floor outside Lily’s room, and she hadn’t moved an inch since then or allowed
anyone to clean her up, despite Emmeline’s, Hestia’s, and Dorcas’ attempts to do so.

After what felt like an hour, a female Healer in lime-green robes opened the door and stepped out.
She looked a little surprised to see all of them there, and at the way that all of their heads had
snapped around as soon as she’d appeared, but smiled.

“Is she—?” James and Mary started in unison, Mary craning her neck to look up at the woman, but
the Healer interrupted both of them.

“She’s going to be fine,” she said, and an audible sigh of relief passed around the room. She looked
around at them, studying their faces. “Are any of you family?”

“No, but I’m her fiancée,” James said quickly. The Healer nodded and beckoned him forward.

“You can come in and see her first, then,” she said. “She’s just waking up, and there’s something I
need to discuss with her that you may well want to hear, too.”

James nodded mutely and followed the Healer into the room. The white door shut behind him
again, and the rest of them were left in silence. Mary, still sitting on the floor, looked taken aback
by the suddenness of what had just happened, and stared at the door again, confused sadness
written all over her face. Hestia stood and moved over to Mary again, extending a hand to her.

“Come on, Mac,” she said gently. “You heard the Healer. Lily’s going to be alright. We’ll be able
to see her after James.”

Mary hesitated, looking from the door to Hestia’s outstretched hand, then finally took it, letting
Hestia pull her to her feet. Hestia wrapped her arm around Mary’s small form and guided her
toward one of the chairs.

Sirius’ relief at the news of Lily’s partial recovery was somewhat marred by the fact that with it,
the adrenaline coursing through his veins had begun to lessen. Now, sharp, stabbing pains ripped
through his torso at regular intervals, and his lungs had begun to burn again, too, possibly from the
prolonged lack of oxygen earlier. He’d stopped pacing but still stood near the door, staring at it,
not sure what else to do. The group waited for another long half hour outside the door, Sirius
checking the clock on the wall every so often. It was very late by then.

When James reappeared, he looked even more shell-shocked than when he’d gone inside, if that
were possible. When he saw them, however, he gave them a weak smile.

“She’s asking to see you all,” he said.

How Lily had managed to charm the Healers into letting nine people crowd into her sick room,
Sirius didn’t know, but they made no complaints as the group of injured, dust-covered, and anxious
young adults moved inside. Lily was lying in the bed, her face still pale but green eyes open, and
when she caught sight of them, she grinned.

“I’m alive,” she said, her voice a bit weak but with a familiar joking tone to it, and Mary burst into
tears again, rushing toward Lily and reaching her hand out to clasp her friend’s. Lily squeezed
Mary’s hand tightly, meeting her eyes as a reassuring glance passed between them.

“You scared me to death, Evans,” Sirius said into the silence. She gave him a feeble smile.

“That would explain how you look,” she joked, and he laughed, though it hurt his stomach to do
so.

“You’re one to talk,” he retorted. Her green eyes twinkled slightly, and she laughed, too.

“I’m glad you’re all alright,” she said, looking around at all of them. “The reason I wanted to talk
to you all, though, is that I have some news.” She glanced at James, a wry look on her face. “We
might’ve preferred to get it in a less traumatic way, but what can you do?”

Mary had raised her head now and was staring at Lily, eyes wide. The whole room seemed to be
holding their breath, expressions varying from confusion to suspicion to dawning comprehension.
Sirius felt like his brain was becoming too fuzzy to understand anything that she might be
implying.

“I’m pregnant,” Lily said finally, giving a small wry smile as she looked around at all of them. “I
almost lost it today, with all that happened, but they managed to save it. So, in about seven months,
James and I will be parents.”

Dead silence rang through the room for a second, then everyone began to talk at once. Hestia
whooped, and Emmeline gave her what was obviously supposed to be a scolding glance, but she
was grinning too much. Mary looked purely and utterly shocked, but after a minute, a smile began
to spread across her face, too. Sirius’ face split into a grin, and he moved to hug James. He caught
Remus’ eyes across the room, and for one moment, they shared a smile, as if nothing had ever
happened.

“We may want to move up the wedding,” James joked through the commotion. As Sirius laughed
with the others, however, another jolt of white-hot pain slashed through his stomach, and he
gasped, his hand going to it involuntarily. James looked around, his mouth forming words that
Sirius suddenly couldn’t hear, his expression turning quickly from happiness to alarm as he pushed
past Peter to get to Sirius, before everything went black.

....

Sirius had to stay in the hospital for five whole days, waiting for the Healers to declare that his
internal bleeding was resolved enough to let him go. After waking up from surgery the morning
after the Ministry of Magic attack, Sirius found Lily next to his bed. As it turned out, she’d been
discharged hours earlier and had come to his bedside instead of going home.

Lily had been able to fill him in on all that they’d learned in the time that he’d been unconscious
about the Death Eater’s attempt to seize the Ministry. As it turned out, it’d been Remus who’d
given the Order and the Ministry the warning they’d needed to stop the attack, from his intel from
the werewolves. On the morning after the attack, Harold Minchum had resigned from his post as
Minister for Magic amid criticisms of his lax security protocols, and they were searching for a new
Minister as they spoke.

Over the following few days, several people dropped by to speak with Sirius, including Caradoc
Dearborn, who formally informed him that he’d been suspended from the Auror program, but that
he was doing everything in his power to get Sirius reinstated. Sirius found he didn’t really care and
told Dearborn as much in the politest terms he could muster. Perhaps when the war was over,
Sirius thought, he’d find some other job. Who knew who he’d be or what he’d want to do when it
was all over, anyway?

James dropped by the most often to check on him and even had the good luck of finding Sirius
trying to surreptitiously sneak out of the hospital on the third day of his stay there. Sirius had
sulked as James threatened to cast a full body bind curse on him if that was what it took to keep
him from leaving. Despite the fact that he could barely stay awake for more than four hours at a
time and still needed someone to help him to the loo, Sirius blamed James for his extended stay,
believing that he’d told the other Healers to keep him longer than strictly necessary. James simply
took his grumpiness with resigned amusement and left him to stew and plan his next escape
attempt.

The next morning, Sirius woke to find the last person he’d expected at the side of his bed.

“You look like shit,” Remus commented, stirring what Sirius presumed was tea in a paper cup and
examining Sirius over it, his blue eyes unreadable.

Sirius groaned, and pushed himself into a sitting position. “I’m fine,” he said, moving to swing his
legs out of his hospital bed so he could stand. “I’m getting out of here today, whether Prongs wants
me to or not.”

Quick as a flash, Remus was there, blocking him. “James told me to come here because you’re
being an idiot,” Remus said. “And here I am, and you are indeed being an idiot.”

Sirius scowled at him. “Let me up.”

“Fine,” Remus said, stepping back so that Sirius’ legs weren’t trapped. “Five galleons you won’t
make it to the door.”
Sirius didn’t even make it a few steps. He swung his legs out of bed, stood up, wobbled slightly,
tried to step forward, then fell back down on the sheets. In a second, Remus was there, helping him
back into bed.

“Shut up,” Sirius said, his voice slightly muffled in the pillows.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it, loudly,” Sirius grumbled. Remus snorted, then stepped back from the bed
and sat down in the chair next to it, pulling a book from his bag.

“What are you doing?” Sirius asked.

“Babysitting you,” Remus said simply. “James was right: you need it.”

Sirius didn’t even bother arguing, just closed his eyes. As his mind wandered, he wished that
Remus’ hands, soft and warm, were on him again as they’d been when he’d helped Sirius lie back
down. As if Remus had read his mind, a hand went up and began to stroke Sirius’ hair softly. Sirius
made a small sound in his throat, somewhere between a murmur and a moan.

“Are you still angry with me?” he asked Remus quietly. Sirius heard Remus sigh.

“We can talk about it later.”

Sirius guessed he’d just have to live with that and drifted off to sleep again.
 1980: All You Need is Love
Chapter Notes

cw: non-major character illness, reference to non-major character death

See the end of the chapter for more notes

In the weeks following the debacle at the Ministry of Magic, Lily’s days were filled to the brim: on
top of her job and her Order duties, Lily had a wedding to plan, a new house to move into, and the
fact that a human being was currently growing inside of her to contemplate. Her twentieth birthday
at the end of January was another terrifying milestone, but Lily made it through it all.

Lily had help, of course, in dealing with all of her less existential concerns. At work, Christopher—
the only one of her coworkers she’d told about the baby—had begun to schedule more of his shifts
alongside hers to help her out. In the Order, Dumbledore had begun to go easier on her in her on-
duty times, which was helped by the fact that Sirius had picked up a bunch of extra shifts since
he’d stopped going to Auror training. At home, James used most of his free time to unpack their
belongings, refusing her offers to help. And as for the wedding, Euphemia had been true to her
word to take care of most of it herself, weaving Indian traditions into British ones to make
something that Lily knew would be perfect. If she was honest with herself, Lily sometimes felt as if
she had more help than she could stand.

Luckily, Sirius could be counted upon to distract her from her concerns.

“What is he doing?” he asked one day while over at their new house. Sirius and Lily were both
sitting on the couch, watching James hurry past as he tried to find the right spot for the houseplant
he’d just bought.

“Marlene’s joked that he’s nesting,” Lily said, wrinkling her nose in some amusement.

“I thought that was supposed to happen later on,” Sirius joked. “Perhaps he thinks that if he gets a
headstart, you won’t have to do it at all.”

“Probably,” Lily said, smirking. She could hear James rustling around in what had been deemed
the study when they’d first moved in, but which he’d since declared would be the baby’s nursery.
He’d put about five houseplants in it already.

“How’s his cooking going?” Sirius asked, grinning.

“Really well, actually,” Lily admitted. “He’s been taking it really seriously, especially after we
found out about this.” She pointed to her belly. “He basically kidnapped his mum and had her
come over to give him a lesson.”

“I’m sure she was happy to do it,” Sirius said, a note of affection in his voice. “But that’s good. He
said he was making lunch and I wasn’t sure if I’d have to pretend to like what he makes or not.”

Lily smiled. “I’d guess you’ll be fine,” she said. “I’m really grateful to Euphemia for doing so
much with the wedding and all, too. She looked tired the last time I saw her, but she wouldn’t hear
of me taking anything off her plate.”
“She raised James. She can handle planning a wedding,” Sirius said, waving off Lily’s concerns
before fixing her with a shrewd look. “How are you doing, then?”

Lily sighed. “I’m alright,” she said, though she knew there was a doubtful note in her voice, given
the look that Sirius shot her. She shrugged and shook her head. “You know, it’s a lot, isn’t it? The
wedding, the baby…” She shivered slightly, and Sirius gave her a sympathetic look.

“A bit more than you bargained for?”

Lily thought for a moment, then shook her head. “Not exactly,” she said. “It’s like, I want all of this
to happen, but it’s happening very fast, so it’s a lot to wrap my head around. Obviously it wasn’t
planned.”

Sirius laughed. “Yeah, I figured that out for myself,” he joked. “You’re about three months along
now, right?”

“Yeah, about that,” Lily said, shrugging. “It’s strange that it took me so long to realize, but I
suppose I was just busy and didn’t notice that my period stopped. The last year has felt like such a
blur.”

“Are you having any other symptoms?” Sirius asked. “Puking, or anything?”

Lily shook her head. “Not really, thank god,” she said. She smirked and lowered her voice. “The
main one is that sometimes I just get absolutely murderous. The mood swings are a bit intense.
James has borne the brunt of it.”

Sirius laughed and made a face. “I don’t envy him, then,” he said. “I bore the brunt of your
puberty-era mood swings, and you mine, so I don’t even want to imagine what it must be like
now.”

Lily laughed, too. “Well, I threatened to decapitate James with a saucepan the other day when he
was humming in the kitchen early in the morning.”

Sirius began to laugh, the sound echoing through the house, hearty and loud. “Isn’t that a bit of a
turn-on for him, though?” he asked once his laughter had died down. “Being threatened with
violence? I thought after all those years of you threatening to hex him in school—”

“I heard that,” James said, striding back into the sitting room, his hands now empty, and shooting
Sirius a half-amused, half-annoyed glance.

“Only speaking the truth, mate,” Sirius replied, giving James an innocent smile. James rolled his
eyes, not bothering to reply, and rounded the counter into the kitchen, pulling out ingredients for
their lunch from the fridge.

“Where’s Moony, then?” James asked. “I thought he was going to come over today, too.”

“He got pulled away, off to Coleridge Road again,” Sirius said, shrugging. “He’s been really busy
with the wolves ever since Alaric’s gotten more willing to give him information.”

“Have you two made up yet?” Lily asked, raising her eyebrows. Sirius grimaced.

“Sort of,” he said. “It’s taking a while, but he’s back staying at the flat most nights, so I’m glad for
that. He still seems a bit wary around me, though, sometimes.”

“You’ve groveled, yeah?” James asked, raising his eyebrows at Sirius in an accusatory fashion.
“Yes, I have, Prongs,” Sirius said, shooting him an annoyed look. “Like I said, it’s just taking some
time.”

“Well, I hope you two won’t be tense with one another at the wedding, is all,” James said.

“It’s in two weeks, I’m sure we’ll be fine by then,” Sirius said, though his expression belied the
certainty in his voice. “Anyways, don’t worry about us. It’s your wedding, after all.”

“Yeah, it is,” James said, looking up from the vegetables that he was chopping to give Lily a
glowing look, to which Lily blushed.

“I keep forgetting to take the mickey out of you for having it on Valentine’s Day,” Sirius said, his
face breaking into a wicked grin. “I mean, how sappy can you get?”

“James has always been a sap,” Lily said, smiling. James gave her an amused look.

“Don’t pretend,” he said affectionately. “It may have been my idea, but you secretly love it. It is
our anniversary, after all.”

Lily’s flush was enough to show how true that statement was, and though Sirius gave her a
sidelong grin, neither he nor James pressed the point.

....

Before Lily knew it, February 14th was upon her, and with it, her wedding to James. She was
woken that morning by a soft tapping on her shoulder, and when she looked up, she found that
Mary was perched on the side of her bed, smiling down at her.

“I thought you might appreciate my wake-up call more than what Marlene had in store,” she said.
“She, Dorcas, Hestia, and Emmeline are going to be here in a few minutes, though, so you’ll want
to ready yourself.”

Lily blinked her bleary eyes and smiled. “Thanks,” she said. “You’re right. I’m sure yours is
infinitely better.”

Mary grinned. “Well, you still need to get up.”

Lily groaned, burrowing further into her covers for a moment, savoring the last dregs of warmth
from them before she’d have to move. James had spent the previous night at his parents’ house and
would be getting ready for the wedding there, too.

“Today’s going to be crazy, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice muffled in her pillow.

“Probably a little,” Mary admitted. “But by the end of it, you’ll be married. And hopefully, it’ll be
more fun than anything else.”

“Mm-hm,” Lily murmured, nodding into her pillow again. She steeled herself, then sat up,
stretching. “Okay, I’m up.”

Mary grinned at her. “Right on time.”

From downstairs, Lily heard the sound of the door swinging open and Marlene yelling from the top
of her lungs: “LILY EVANS, IT’S YOUR WEDDING DAY, GET YOUR ARSE OUT OF BED!”

Lily winced, and Callie, who’d been curled up at the end of the bed, startled awake, her eyes wide
in alarm at the sound of Marlene’s loud voice.
“Yeah, I definitely prefer your way,” Lily said, swinging her legs out of bed and standing. Mary
grinned.

“Thought so.”

Thus commenced Lily’s day. Once the girls had made a full breakfast for her, they ate leisurely in
the kitchen together, then sent her upstairs to shower. When Lily reluctantly removed herself from
the warm water and wrapped her body in a fuzzy green robe, Hestia sat Lily down on the floor in
front of the mirror and began to weave strands of her magically dried hair into an updo. It wasn’t
long enough to truly put up, but Hestia worked her magic all the same.

As she did so, Lily thought wistfully of the days when she’d spent hours weaving Petunia’s hair
into braids and updos, back when they’d both been small and Petunia had still let Lily near her. Her
older sister had rarely returned the favor, but Lily had never minded, contented with playing with
her sister’s blonde locks. Petunia had gotten married more than a year previously, and though
she’d eventually caved to their father’s pleas to let Lily attend her wedding, she’d ignored her sister
for the whole celebration. The invitation that Lily had sent her sister in the mail had been returned
unopened, and Lily didn’t press the issue with their father, though she knew it troubled him.

“All done,” Hestia announced finally, putting her hands on Lily’s shoulders and smiling at her in
the mirror. Lily returned to reality and gave her a smile in return, though she knew it didn’t reach
her eyes.

“What were you thinking about?” Hestia asked gently. “You looked far away.”

“My sister,” Lily admitted, giving her a sad smile in the mirror.

“She’s not coming, is she?” Hestia asked, her tone sympathetic. Lily shook her head, sighing as she
did so. “The rest of your family will be there, though, right?”

“Yeah,” Lily said, reaching up to touch her hair. “What’s left of it.”

A wave of sadness crashed through her as she thought of her mum, and how, when she’d imagined
this day as a little girl, Lily had always pictured Amelia next to her. Her eyes filled with tears, but
she blinked them away, looking back to the mirror to see Hestia frowning at her, her expression
sympathetic.

“Do you have anything of your mum’s?” Hestia asked. “Something you could take with you
today?”

Lily was about to shake her head, but then she hesitated. Standing up, she moved over to her
dresser and opened her jewelry box. Out she pulled a small, glass brooch, the color of a forget-me-
not, which Lily’s father had given to Lily after her mother had died. Lily had always adored it as a
child, loving how it matched her mother’s eyes when she wore it. When she’d asked her father why
he didn’t give it to Petunia, as she was the one who’d inherited Amelia’s light blue eyes, Richard
Evans had told her that it was always Lily who’d loved it best.

She held it out for Hestia to see. Hestia took it, examining it carefully, and smiled. She turned Lily
around and pinned it in the center of her updo, the clasp sliding into place with a small click.

“It’ll clash with my hair,” Lily protested automatically, turning to try and catch a glimpse of it in
her mirror.

“Rubbish,” Hestia said, smiling and handing her a small handheld mirror so she could see the back
of her head. “It looks beautiful.”
Lily tilted the mirror to look, and she herself had to admit that Hestia was right. Lily gave her a
slight smile, not trusting herself to speak, and handed her back the mirror. Hestia beamed at her,
then walked over to the bedroom door and called out of it:

“Mac! Your services are needed!” She turned back to Lily and smiled. “Now let’s get you ready.”

The next few hours were a blur. Mary did Lily’s makeup, then the girls waited for her to change
into her dress, which was creamy white, had long, sheer sleeves, and a layer of flowy gossamer
draped over it all. When Lily finished dressing and exited the bathroom, Hestia actually gasped.

“You look so beautiful,” Dorcas declared, stepping forward to envelop Lily in a hug. Lily bent to
hug Mary next, who had tears on her cheeks.

“Don’t cry, Mac,” she said, smiling. “I might start crying with you.”

“It’s just never felt so real before now,” Mary said, sniffling slightly as she stepped back from Lily,
looking down at her dress again. “It’s really happening, though. You’re really getting married.”
She wiped her cheeks to dry them and took a deep breath, collecting herself. She gave Lily a watery
smile. “You really do look beautiful, Lils.”

“Thanks, Mac,” Lily said, feeling the pressure of unshed tears behind her eyes and making a
valiant effort to push them back. She looked around at them all, beaming, her eyes shining. “I can’t
believe this is happening.”

Marlene smiled and clapped her hands together. “I’m going to go see if they’re ready for us over at
James’,” she said. “Be back in a mo.” She trotted out of the room and down the stairs. Lily heard
the door open and shut, then the telltale crack that meant that she’d disapparated.

“I suppose we’d better get dressed then, too,” Dorcas said into the silence Marlene had left behind,
and then there was a flurry of activity, during which all the other girls began to get ready. Lily
helped where she could, but mostly the other girls told her to sit and wait, which she did
reluctantly, waiting for Marlene to return to give them the green light to head to Blacksmith Hill.

Marlene made her reentrance into the house very plain by her loud slam of the door and hurried
footsteps up the stairs. When she appeared on the landing, she was beaming.

“We’re good to head over whenever we’re ready,” she said. “And Lily—James told me to give you
this.” She held out a small box for Lily to open, and when Lily did, she found a pair of gold
earrings, whose chains held three pearls each. She couldn’t even guess how much they must have
cost him.

“Oh, James,” she said, with a mixture of affection and amusement as she drew them out of the box
and held them up to the light. “I suppose he gave them to you so he wouldn’t have to hear my
protests in person.”

Marlene just grinned. “He said they could be your something new,” she said, unabashed.

Lily smiled, shaking her head in amusement, and put them on. She had to admit as she looked in
the mirror that they went spectacularly well with her dress. Perhaps Euphemia had helped James
pick them out, as she’d been privy to the design of the dress.

“Well, you already have something old and blue, but you still need something borrowed,” Hestia
said, stumbling slightly as she exited the bathroom, her dress catching on her heels. The other girls
seemed to ponder the problem for a moment, then Mary held out her own bracelet, which was
made out of red string, for Lily to take.
“It’s supposed to be good luck,” she explained. “You can put it in your pocket or something, since
it’ll clash with your dress.” Lily ignored this and had Mary fasten it around her wrist.

“Marley, get dressed,” commanded Hestia, pointing toward the bathroom, and Marlene grinned and
departed, grabbing her stack of clothes as she did so.

“I should go pick up my dad and my aunts,” Lily said, suddenly remembering that they were
waiting for someone to come side-along apparate them to James’ house.

“No, I can do it,” Mary said, waving her away from the door as Marlene exited the bathroom
looking very dapper in a suit.

“I’ll come, too,” Dorcas offered. “We’ll meet you all there.”

With that, there was nothing left to do except apparate to Blacksmith Hill. Hestia had placed a spell
on Lily’s hair and makeup so that nothing would be messed up in transit, and she arrived unscathed
in the front garden. Euphemia greeted them, looking beautiful in a royal blue saree, then hurried
Lily into the library, insisting that James shouldn’t see her until the ceremony. Marlene, Hestia, and
Emmeline all gave her amused looks before going to help with any last details.

Ten minutes later, Lily heard a knock on the door, and in walked Richard Evans. As Lily had
predicted, his eyes filled with tears when he saw her, and Lily hurried towards him to envelop him
in a hug.

“Hey, baby girl,” Richard said, beaming at her once she’d released him, and holding her back to
take in her appearance, his eyes still shining with tears. “You look so beautiful.”

“Thanks, dad,” Lily said, trying to push away the tears in her eyes that had sprung up when she’d
seen him. She suspected that she wouldn’t be so teary if not for the pregnancy hormones, but
perhaps she still would’ve been. After all, the combination of sadness that her mother and sister
wouldn’t be there, and overwhelming happiness at the thought of finally marrying the man who
Lily could confidently say was the love of her life would surely be enough to bring anyone to tears,
pregnant or not.

“Give me a twirl,” Richard said, smiling, and she laughed, making a slow circle so that he could
fully admire her dress. When she turned back around, she saw that one tear had managed to slide
down his cheek.

“You’re wearing your mother’s brooch,” he said, his voice sounding thick with unshed tears.

“I hope that’s alright,” Lily said anxiously. Richard smiled and nodded.

“It’s perfect,” he said. “It was always meant to be yours.”

“It’s my something old and blue,” she said, attempting to ward off tears again. She held up her
wrist to show him Mary’s bracelet. “Something borrowed.” She pointed towards the pearl earrings.
“Something new. James gave them to me today, through Marlene.”

“You’re only missing one thing, then,” Richard said, grinning mischievously, and pulled a
sixpence coin out of his pocket. “Sixpence in your shoe.”

Lily laughed, surprised, but took the coin from him nevertheless and used him for balance as she
took off her right shoe and placed the sixpence in it, then put it back on again. When she looked
back up at him, he was beaming at her.
“Your mother would be so proud of you,” he said. “Not just for this, mind you, but for everything.
You’re more amazing than we ever could’ve dreamed of, Lily.”

Lily couldn’t speak, so she just nodded. There was a quick knock on the door, and Mary stuck her
head in.

“They’re ready for you,” she said. “We’re lining up now.”

“Alright,” Lily said, taking a deep breath. Richard offered him her arm, and she took it. “Let’s go.”

....

The ceremony was short and sweet. Walking out onto the aisle—which was in a tent that had been
constructed in a small grove of trees on Blacksmith Hill—was nerve-racking, and Lily clutched her
father’s arm tightly, but the sight of James at the end of it made all her nerves fade away. He
looked handsome in a creamy white sherwani that almost perfectly matched her dress with a red
stole over his shoulders, both embroidered with elaborate patterns. The look on his face, full of
wonder and pure adoration—the look that had made her furious with him in fifth and sixth year and
thoroughly terrified in seventh—filled her with a feeling akin to flying, and as she walked towards
him, she felt as if nothing else in the world existed.

When she reached the front, she spied a flash of orange and blue under the hem of his pants and
had to laugh.

“You’re wearing your lucky socks?” she asked him, her voice low so that no one else could hear
what they were saying.

“Of course,” he whispered back, grinning and still looking a little dazed. “What if you had been
tempted to run away?”

“I would never,” she whispered back, and he smiled a smile that seemed brighter than the sun.

Later in the tent, the quiet ceremony had broken into a raucous celebration. Sirius was dancing up a
storm. He danced with Mary first, of course, because they were the Best Man and Maid of Honor,
respectively, then Remus, then anyone and everyone who’d have him. Lily had even seen her Aunt
Ella dancing with him a time or two, though Professor McGonagall, who looked elegant and
sophisticated in a dark purple dress, had firmly refused when he’d asked her to dance.

Lily, herself, was having more fun than she ever thought possible. When she and James readied for
their first dance, and “All You Need is Love” by The Beatles came on, tears actually filled her
eyes, to which he just smiled. He sang the lyrics quietly to her the whole time they danced, too, and
by the end of it, she wished that she could just forget about their guests and pull him up to his old
bedroom to kiss him in a way she definitely didn’t want her father or aunts to witness.

When dinner rolled around, it was time for toasts, and James groaned as Sirius stood up, slumping
in his seat as if he wished he could disappear. Sirius looked over at him and grinned, then sent Lily
a wink. She smiled back at him, and he cleared his throat.

“Hello, all! I’m sure all of you know me by now, even if you didn’t at the beginning of the night!”
Lily heard Professor McGonagall let out a loud snort, and Sirius sent her a wink. “So, anyway,” he
continued. “You should know that James has been my best friend since we were eleven. And trust
me, back then he was much more annoying than he is now, so I was definitely doing some charity
work.”

“You were way more annoying, too,” Marlene broke in loudly. Sirius sent her a playful glare, and
she poked her tongue out at him. Dorcas giggled from behind her hand, and both Peter and Remus
smirked.

“And then there’s Lily,” Sirius continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “Now, when I met her,
Lily was, in some ways, more insufferable than both me and James combined—” He glanced at her
with a smile on his face, and she shrugged, grinning, admitting that in some ways, it was very true.
“—but even in the times when I thought that she was the most annoying person alive, I think I
always kind of respected her.”

He hesitated, and another smile spread slowly across his face. “Maybe feared her. Probably both.”
This drew a laugh from the rest of the party, and both Lily and James joined in.

“But by fifth year, when James started going on about how Lily was the most wonderful and
miraculous person ever to walk this earth—” James sunk still lower in his seat. “—I wasn’t very
happy about it, I’ll admit. I tried on many occasions to talk some sense into him, which obviously
didn’t work, as we’re sitting here today. But you know what changed?” Sirius’ expression grew
solemn, now, as he looked around at the crowd.

“When we were sixteen, I messed up badly.” His voice turned somber, and though he didn’t look at
Remus, Lily saw Remus staring up at him, his gaze intent and surprised as if he wasn’t sure what
Sirius would say next.

“I betrayed the trust my friends put in me, and for a while there, no one would talk to me. I
deserved it, really. I still often think about that time and think of what I would’ve done if they
hadn’t forgiven me. Luckily, I had people like James around to help fix my mistakes, even though I
shouldn’t have needed him to, and other people who refused to let me go even when it would
probably have been the smarter choice to do so.”

He did look at Remus, then, only for a second, and Lily saw something flash between their two
pairs of eyes, something intense and painful, before Sirius looked away again.

“But it was Lily who was the first person who spoke to me after I did what I did,” he said, giving a
small smile, his tone lifting. “She was furious with me, of course, but even though she hated my
guts then, she also saw that I needed someone, and she listened to me, even though I didn’t really
deserve it. Even though she’d never liked me, she told me that I wasn’t a hopeless case and that I
could be forgiven one day. I think that was the day when we both saw something in each other that
we’d both been too stubborn to see before, and after that, we became friends.”

He looked down at Lily, and Lily smiled up at him, nodding. She remembered that day like it was
yesterday, and she knew he was right: that had been the day that things had shifted between them.
A lot had changed at the end of their fifth year, but perhaps it was realizing that Sirius wasn’t the
terrible person she’d always thought he was that had opened a door to let in all that she’d
understood later. Without that one moment, Lily doubted that she would’ve ever accepted the same
thing about James, too.

“A lot has changed between then and now,” Sirius continued. “Both Lily and James have grown. It
took a while for them both to become people that could be really good together, but once they had,
I knew that James had been right all along because I can’t imagine him with anyone else. And sure,
they’re young, but this has been so many years in the making it feels like it’s about time. So
congratulations, you two!”

He raised his glass, and everyone echoed him and toasted. James straightened a bit in his chair,
looking relieved and slightly taken aback by the fact that he hadn’t been thoroughly humiliated by
Sirius’ speech. But after Sirius had taken a long drink of champagne, he didn’t sit down, instead
reaching into his pocket and taking out a piece of parchment which he unfolded and smoothed,
clearing his throat again.

“And now, I will read a poem that James wrote about Lily in fifth year,” he announced, and James
swore, reaching to grab the crumpled piece of parchment Sirius was squinting at. Sirius easily
moved it up out of his reach, and instead of standing to grab it, James slumped again into his chair,
covering his face in his hands as if resigned to his fate.

Half the room was hooting, now, but they quieted as Sirius began to read. “Her hair as red as a
rose,” he began, and paused, smirking before reading the next line. “When she blushes, all the way
down to her toes—maybe rhyme with nose or something next time, eh, mate?”

James groaned into his hands while Peter and Remus were in fits with their laughter, Peter turning
bright red and rocking in his seat while Remus clutched his stomach, looking like he might fall to
the floor.

“From her smaragdine eyes—Oh, and I had to look up the definition of this one when I was
reading it. For all you sane people out there who don’t know, ‘smaragdine’ means ‘emerald.’”

“I am going to murder you in your sleep,” James said, his voice slightly muffled through his
fingers. Lily thought she might burst from her laughter, and knew that her face must be as red as
Peter’s. The girls were in hysterics, too, as were Euphemia and Fleamont. Professor McGonagall,
who Lily wasn’t sure she’d ever seen laugh before, was even chuckling, though she was obviously
trying to contain herself.

“To those creamy white—” The whole room groaned, but James snatched the parchment out of
Sirius’ hands before he could read any more, his whole face dark red. Lily grabbed it from his
hand and began to scan down the remaining lines herself, giggling as she did so.

“Well, I suppose my poetry reading has been cut short. My apologies, everyone,” Sirius said in
mock-disappointment. He grinned down at James, toasting him again before downing the rest of
his glass of champagne. “You truly missed your calling, mate.”

With that, he sat, leaving the room to try and collect themselves, something that didn’t look like it
would be happening anytime soon. Once Lily was satisfied, she handed the poem back to James,
who immediately vanished it with his wand.

“You never shared that with me,” Lily said, smiling innocently at him.

“There is a reason for that,” James stated resolutely, clearly trying for some dignity despite the fact
that she could see that his blush extended to his neck and the backs of his ears.

“Thanks, Padfoot,” James told Sirius, sending him a glare.

“Anytime, mate,” Sirius replied, clapping him on the back and beaming. “Alright, Moony?”

Remus was hiccupping slightly and had just climbed back onto his chair from the floor. He beamed
at Sirius, his cheeks still red from his laughter, and nodded.

Hours later, James and Lily were sent home with many assurances from their friends that they
didn’t need help clearing up. James kissed his mother’s cheek goodnight, and Euphemia patted him
affectionately, looking exhausted from all the day’s events. He hugged his father, as Lily wrapped
her arms around her own.

“Are you alright to get home with Mary again?” she asked, glancing past him to Aunt Ella and
 Aunt Eileen, who were helping clean up the tent, too, despite the fact that the rest of the people
around them were wizards and could clean much more efficiently by magic.

“Oh, yes, we’ll be fine,” Richard assured her. “It’s still your wedding day, Lily. Don’t worry about
the rest of us.”

“Okay,” Lily said, smiling. “Goodnight, then.”

When they apparated back to Godric’s Hollow and made it through the door, Lily was already
working on the fastenings of his shirt, and his hands were on her waist, their lips crushing together
in indecent haste. Making a noise of impatience, he lifted her off her feet and allowed her to wrap
her legs around his torso, then carried her like that, kissing all the way, up to their bedroom.

They were so caught up in their post-wedding euphoria, in fact, that it took them a while to get the
news of James’ parents’ illness, which came by owl the very next day, a reminder of the fact that
much as they tried, there would be no respite from the horror of their lives.

Chapter End Notes

Okay, I know it’s technically “canon” that James and Lily get married in 1979, but
honestly, that’s just because JKR didn’t want the kids to think they were having
premarital sex because of when Harry was conceived, and Christian values or
whatever. I don’t give a fuck. Also, I know it’s technically “canon” that James’ parents
died in 1979, after Jily’s wedding. Again, no fucks given.

You’ve likely figured this out before now, but when I say that this fic is “canon
compliant” for the most part, I am talking only about stuff that was physically in the
books. I do not give a single shit about Pottermore, or whatever info JKR has decided
to pull out of her ass since. Sometimes I put those details in, but only if they work with
the story anyway and I vibe with them. If it’s not in the books, it’s not canon. And if it
is in the books and I don’t like it, I still don’t care. Kiss my ass JKR, there’s both
premarital and gay sex (and premarital gay sex) happening behind the scenes of this
fic and no one cares what you think of that, either.

Also, I get so frustrated with “canon” information so regularly because—apart from

the obvious reason of it having so much bigotry written in—it’s so dumb and
inconsistent! Like, I love the books, but they also frustrate me so much, and don’t
even get me started on the movies!! There are so many plotholes around the pre-books
timeline that I have to deal with because I want the timeline of my fic to make sense!!!
I feel like I’m doing a group project with JKR and she’s literally the worst groupmate
ever, it’s so frustrating. She literally contradicts her own information so often in the
books and in Harry Potter wiki articles, it’s so dumb.
 1980: Daffodil Dreams
Chapter Notes

cw: non-major character deaths

Mary was bored. She was tired. There was something sticky on the bottom of her seat that her
fingers kept brushing against, and she winced every time they did. And on top of it all, the
fidgeting of the person sitting beside her was barraging her ears with a constant, irritating tapping
noise. Her left eye twitched, and she looked beside her in annoyance, itching to tell him off, but she
held herself back when she saw Sirius’ expression.

His dark, shoulder-length hair was swept away from his face that night in a small ponytail at the
nape of his neck, giving Mary a clear view of his troubled frown, and the lines of unhappiness that
had sunk in over the last few weeks. Her eyes moved to his foot, which was tapping a regular
rhythm onto the floor of the car, and sighed.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked, breaking the long-held silence between them. Sirius
started, turning to look at her, but his gaze was unfocused, and she knew that he hadn’t registered
her words.

“What?” he asked after a moment, grey eyes focusing on her at last.

“I said: is there anything I can do?” Mary repeated, looking at him steadily. Sirius’ face fell, and he
looked down at his foot, which immediately ceased its tapping.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I must be annoying you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Mary said, not bothering to mention that it had, in fact, been very irritating.
“Why did you volunteer for this mission? I figured since—”

“I needed to do something,” Sirius replied gruffly, looking back out the front window again, where
they were both meant to be watching the dark street. “I couldn’t stand sitting around and being sad
anymore. I’ve done it too much in the last few months.”

“They only died a week ago, Sirius,” Mary pointed out gently. “You’re allowed to grieve for
them.”

“I don’t want to,” Sirius said. “I’m tired of grieving for people.”

Mary was silent. She couldn’t pretend to understand exactly how Sirius was feeling, and wouldn’t
insult him by claiming to. She’d never lost someone that important to her. Not to death, anyway.
Not yet.

In the end, James’ parents’ deaths had been slow. Last Mary had seen them, they’d been happy but
tired, leaving Lily’s and James’ wedding. Then, the next morning, news had come of their illness.
Because Dragon Pox had a cure, they’d all been hopeful at the beginning, and James’ parents had
seemed to improve after treatment. Then, in the weeks that followed, the improvement had inched
to a halt and began to turn in the other direction.
Fleamont had died first, then days later, Euphemia had passed. Mary had seen the cruelty of their
slow deaths as she’d watched Lily cry day after day, cursing herself for not being able to make
them better, for the fact that potion after potion continued to fail until they’d told her that enough
was enough. Lily had told Mary about the way that James had broken, his face falling into lines of
despair, when the Healers had told him that there was nothing else to be done, then again the day
his father had died, and finally when his mother had breathed her last breath, her hand going slack
in his.

“They still don’t know where they got it from, do they?” Mary asked quietly, breaking the silence
at last. Sirius shook his head.

“Lily, James, and Dorcas all blame themselves,” he said. “They think one of them carried it to
Fleamont and Euphemia from a patient at St. Mungo’s.”

“It’s strange that no one caught it from them,” Mary said. “Isn’t it supposed to be highly
contagious?”

Sirius shrugged. “Not so much when you’re younger,” he said. “But the Healers gave every one of
us who saw them the antidote, anyway. Euphemia really didn’t want Lily to come to visit her,
especially at the beginning. She was worried about the baby.”

Mary nodded. Lily had told her as much. Sometimes, Lily said, she felt as if her pregnancy was so
out of place in this time of grief and fear as to be inappropriate. She’d told Mary one day, looking
down at her belly which had just begun to grow visibly: “I don’t know how to feel grief and joy at
the same time. It feels cruel for life to give me something wonderful and take something away in
return.” Privately, Mary thought that that described many things in her own life.

Sirius shifted restlessly in his seat and began bouncing his knee. “When are the Death Eaters going
to show themselves, then? I thought Dumbledore said that this lead was almost certainly not a dead
end.”

“I don’t know,” Mary said, looking out of the windshield.

They were meant to be staking out an inn on the edge of Bodmin Moor for possible Death Eater
activity, as Dumbledore had gotten word that some of Voldemort’s supporters were staying there
before going to the mountains to seek help from the giants. She and Sirius were currently
pretending to be a pair of Muggles, sitting in a car that one of the Order members had gotten a hold
of, waiting to see what information they could gather.

“You’re anxious for a fight, tonight,” Mary said, glancing at Sirius. Sirius shrugged.

“Maybe,” he admitted. “I just need some distraction. Sitting in a car for hours doing nothing wasn’t
what I had in mind.”

“You know Dumbledore said not to engage, in this mission,” Mary reminded him. Sirius didn’t
respond, only gave a noncommittal shrug. “We could talk?” Mary suggested tentatively.

“Sure,” Sirius replied indifferently. “Tell me something interesting that’ll distract me.”

“Something interesting?” Mary asked, raising her eyebrows at him. He shrugged.

“Or anything.”

Mary thought for a moment. It was hard to think of something to talk about that wasn’t horrible,
these days. All news seemed like bad news, and obviously, he didn’t want to hear that kind. She
couldn’t pretend that her own life was interesting, either. Searching around for something, she
looked out her side window and spotted a daffodil blooming on the side of the road, its yellow hue
vibrant enough to show even in darkness.

“Oh!” Mary exclaimed, tearing her eyes away from the flower as she landed on a piece of
information she’d gotten recently that hadn’t made her want to cry. “I heard that Sybill Trelawney
is applying for the job of Divination teacher at Hogwarts.”

“Really?” Sirius asked, raising his eyebrows. “Who told you that?”

“Elphias Doge,” Mary explained. “He’s usually on Order duty at the same time as me, you know,
and he’s good friends with Dumbledore.”

“I didn’t know that Dumbledore was considering renewing the subject,” Sirius said. “It hasn’t even
been offered since the end of our second year, right, not since the last professor retired? No one
was really taking it then.”

“Maybe she’ll liven it up,” Mary said, smiling slightly. “Don’t you remember the absurd
predictions she’d make when she was still at Hogwarts?”

Sirius actually smiled this time. “Yeah,” he replied. “I remember when she told everyone who’d
listen in our second year that the whole world would have to go into quarantine because of a fever
Muggles would catch from bats.”

“I remember that, too!” Mary said, grinning. “You’d think she’d make her predictions a little more
believable if she wanted anyone to take her seriously.”

“We should invite her to a party sometime,” Sirius said. “She’d be the perfect entertainment. Get
her drunk and make a bingo game for what she’ll predict next. What do you think? Locust
swarm?”

“World War III,” Mary offered.

“The entire continent of Australia catching fire,” Sirius added, and Mary burst into laughter.

Once their laughter had subsided, they both glanced out of the windshield again. The dark, empty
street remained as boring as ever. For the next hour, Mary and Sirius attempted to entertain one
another by various means: they played circular poetry and I-Spy, debated the merits of different
pens and techniques for drawing, and made up a few vaguely insulting rhymes about different
members of the Order, which Mary made him promise not to share with anyone after that night.
After a while, Mary found herself dozing off. She woke to the sound of Sirius’ low voice,
whispering to himself in the dark.

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of
foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it
was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had
everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all
going direct the other way…” The words, which Mary knew weren’t for her ears at all,
nevertheless made her shiver.

“What’s that?” she asked, lifting her head from her arms. Sirius jumped and stared at her.

“I thought you were asleep,” he said, coloring slightly. Mary shrugged.

“I was,” she said, raising her eyebrows at him. He made a face and sighed.
“The Tale of Two Cities,” Sirius replied. Mary let out a snort of laughter, and he rolled his eyes at
her.

“Look, it’s not like I thought you could hear it,” he said, a defensive note in his voice.

“Doesn’t mean that I can’t make fun of the fact that you can quote Dickens from memory,” she
said.

“I have unexplored depths, Mary,” Sirius said, trying for a pompous tone.

“No, you don’t,” Mary said, laughing.

Sirius grinned. “No, I don’t,” he admitted. “But it’s one of those quotes that just sticks with you,
especially given our current circumstances.”

“Yeah,” Mary said, her laughter dying. “I can see that.”

There was a moment of silence, in which Mary wasn’t sure if she should comfort him, but felt like
she wanted some comfort for herself after the chill the quote had left deep in her bones. It was
Sirius who spoke again first, however.

“James has this pair of lucky socks,” he said, his voice thoughtful but sounding distant. “He’s had
them since he was a kid. They’re terrible: bright orange with blue polka dots on them. True
eyesore, but he’s convinced himself that they’re lucky. At Hogwarts, he’d wear them at every
Quidditch match, hoping they’d help him win. Now, he wears them whenever he goes on missions,
hoping they’ll help him stay alive.”

The heaviness in Sirius’ voice hurt Mary to hear, but now that Sirius had mentioned the socks, she
remembered something.

“He wore them to the wedding, didn’t he?” she asked. Sirius nodded but didn’t smile.

“And every day to the hospital when his parents got sick,” he said, and Mary’s heart dropped.

“So much has changed,” she said, sighing and feeling immeasurably sad. “We’re not kids anymore,
not like before, at least.”

“I hated being a kid,” Sirius replied softly. “I don’t like this much either, but at least we have
control over our own lives now.”

Mary didn’t reply. She didn’t feel like she had much control over her life, these days, but she still
thought she knew what he meant. Of course, she also knew that her childhood, even with all its ups
and downs, must’ve been many times happier than what Sirius had had to deal with.

Mary was still trying to come up with a response when she saw a movement in the shadows out of
the corner of her eye. She snapped her head around and squinted at the spot, trying to figure out if
the movement had actually been a person, or just a plastic bag drifting in the wind or a stray dog.

“What is it?” Sirius asked, suddenly alert, craning his neck to see what she was looking at. Mary
held up her hand for him to be quiet for a second as she squinted into the darkness. A long moment
passed, and then she leaned back, shaking her head in resignation.

“I thought I saw something move in that corner,” she said, pointing toward it. “But I must’ve just
been—”
Her words were cut off by the jet of green light that came flying straight for them. They both
ducked, and the killing curse made a hole in the windshield like a bullet, streaking past them to
singe the backseat.

“Fuck!” Mary exclaimed, looking up over the dashboard again. “They’ve seen us!”

Sirius aimed his wand toward the hole in the windshield and shot a jet of red light out at the Death
Eater. The wizard around the corner, who Mary was able to see briefly in the light of the spell,
ducked out of the way, and Sirius swore.

“Dumbledore said don’t engage!” Mary hissed at him, though her wand was drawn, too, and she
was peering into the darkness to see if there were more spells coming their way.

“In case you haven’t noticed, they’re trying to kill us,” Sirius hissed at her. “And I’d rather not die
right now!”

“Me neither,” Mary hissed back. “But this is meant to be about gathering information.”

“So let’s go and find that arsehole who just tried to kill us, then,” Sirius whispered. “If we capture
him, that’s some information we can bring to the Order. Then he can’t go talk to the giants, either.”

Mary took a second to consider, then nodded. “Fine,” she conceded. “We’ll just check it out.”

They both moved cautiously toward the car doors and opened them quietly, then, wands drawn
ahead of them, made their way around the building that the Death Eater had disappeared behind.
There was nothing there. They hurried along the wall through the shadows, making their way
around the back of the inn, following the sounds of panting breaths from the Death Eater they were
tailing. Mary dodged another jet of green light the man shot behind him and quickened her pace.

The inn that they’d stationed themselves in the shadow of was surrounded on all sides by stretches
of green, and, in the background, mountains. Therefore, Mary hadn’t expected to find much hiding
behind the buildings, as she figured that there wasn’t much one would try to hide in the middle of
nowhere. So when she raced around the corner, Sirius at her side, preparing to confront the Death
Eater they’d been chasing, and found herself looking up into the face of a twenty-foot giant, the
scream that left her mouth was completely out of her control.

The giant lunged for her and Sirius, hands reaching down to grab at them, so Mary did the first
thing she could think of and punched the hand with all her might as it came at her. Naturally, the
giant didn’t even flinch, and Sirius had the sense to grab Mary’s arm and pull her back.

“Run!” he shouted at her, and she didn’t second-guess him.

When a moment earlier they’d been on the offensive, they now hurled themselves with even more
speed in the opposite direction, Sirius even bouncing off one of the stone walls of the inn in his
haste to get back to the car. Mary thought vaguely that this might be funny if she wasn’t so
terrified. They could hear the giant lumbering behind them, its footfalls heavy on the ground.
Spells shot between them, too, as they ran, showing that the Death Eater had followed the giant in
its chase.

When they reached the car, neither stopped to think, just hurled themselves inside and slammed the
doors shut. Mary’s hands shook as she jammed the key into the ignition and turned it, and the car’s
headlights flicked on to show the giant still heading straight toward them, ready to crush the car as
easily as Mary might step on an ant. Sirius swore loudly, but Mary narrowed her eyes in
concentration, and instead of turning the car away from the giant, she pressed on the gas and
headed straight toward it.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Sirius shouted, panic embedded in his voice, but Mary didn’t
answer.

Instead, she crossed the fingers of her right hand over the wheel, praying silently to herself that this
would work, and watched the giant’s expression turn to confusion and then alarm as they shot right
through its legs. Mary’s foot pressed further on the gas pedal as Sirius swore and swiveled in his
seat to look behind them, where Mary knew the giant must be pursuing. Judging by the hasty
shield charm Sirius cast, which didn’t prevent the back windshield from breaking as a curse hit it,
the giant wasn’t the only one, either.

“Doesn’t this go any faster?” Sirius demanded, his wand still pointing out the back. In answer,
Mary floored the gas pedal, and they shot forward.

After ten long minutes during which Sirius stayed turned around, wand raised, waiting to defend
their back, and Mary watched the road, hoping no police would pull them over to ask them why
they were going more than two times the speed limit, Sirius declared that they were all clear. Mary
relaxed her pressure on the gas, and they slowed to a more reasonable speed, which would
nevertheless get them out of there quicker than going at the speed limit.

“They’ve got giants,” Sirius said after a moment of startled silence.

“Yeah,” Mary replied, staring out at the road. “They’ve got giants.”

At the same time, they both began to laugh. It was a little hysterical, and tears actually formed in
Mary’s eyes as she held on to the steering wheel and laughed and laughed until her stomach hurt.
Sirius was in hysterics beside her, rocking back and forth in his seat. When he finally caught his
breath, he choked out:

“You punched a giant!”

Mary laughed harder. “I punched a giant,” she said, nodding.

“Merlin,” Sirius said, wiping his eyes. “That’s the craziest thing that’s happened to me in months.”

“I can confidently say that that’s the craziest thing that’s happened to me ever,” Mary said. “But
maybe you’ve been chased by more giants than me.”

“No, not specifically giants,” Sirius said, laughing, though he didn’t elaborate. “Where are we
going, by the way?” he asked, looking out at the dark road ahead of them.

“Oh,” Mary said, looking out the windshield in surprise. She’d only just realized that she’d
instinctually begun to drive in the direction of home. “I suppose I automatically started driving
toward Penzance. We should probably find somewhere safe to apparate from, instead, right?”

“Penzance?” Sirius echoed, confused.

“Where I grew up,” Mary clarified.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot we were in Cornwall,” Sirius said. “Where are we now, do you think?”

“Probably almost halfway there,” Mary said. They passed a sign just then, which read ‘Mitchell.’
“Yeah, we should be about halfway. Falmouth is further south from here, and it takes forty-five
minutes to drive from there, but it should be about thirty from here. Less if I keep speeding.”
“What’s in Falmouth?” Sirius asked curiously. Mary swallowed, realizing what she’d just
unconsciously let slip.

“My father lives there,” she replied. “Or at least he did, last time I heard.”

“Oh,” Sirius said. There was a short, awkward pause, then he said: “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Mary replied shortly. “It’s fine. I only went there the one time, when I was four,
after he walked out on us.”

“Hm,” Sirius intoned awkwardly. There was a slight pause. “So, why don’t we go to your mum’s
house, then, instead of finding somewhere to apparate?”

Mary glanced at Sirius a little disbelievingly. “Why?”

He shrugged. “We could come back here tomorrow and see if we can scout out more information
about the Death Eaters.”

“We could do that if we apparate back tomorrow, too,” Mary pointed out.

“I suppose,” Sirius said. “But what’s the point if we can stay in the area?”

“An hour’s drive away is hardly in the area, Sirius,” Mary replied. He fixed his gaze on her
inquisitively.

“Do you not want me to meet your family?” he asked, the trace of a smile on his face. Mary sighed
frustratedly, giving him an annoyed glance before turning back to look at the road.

She wasn’t sure why she was so resistant to the thought of Sirius seeing Penzance. No, that was a
lie. She did know. Penzance was small, especially compared to London, where Sirius had grown
up. It was also poor. She didn’t think Sirius expected her to come from luxury, but perhaps she was
a little hesitant at the idea of showing him the small, two-bedroom cottage that she’d grown up in,
with the cramped kitchen and the room she still shared with her eight-year-old sister whenever she
visited home.

“Fine,” she grumbled. “If you want to sleep on our couch, be my guest.”

“Great,” Sirius said, grinning. “Onward, then.”

....

When they arrived at Mary’s family’s house in Penzance, it was past midnight. She parked the car
two blocks away in an alley, worried that the Death Eaters might somehow track it. When she
unlocked her front door, Sirius close on her heels, she opened it onto a hallway that was still
illuminated by a sliver of light from the kitchen. She slid her shoes off and arranged them neatly
near the doorway, then made her way further down the hall.

Mary knew that her mother would be there, not gone to bed yet but sitting at the kitchen table,
perhaps planning for the following day or sketching in the margins of her well-worn notebook.
When Sirius shut the door quietly behind him, Mary heard the scrape of her mother’s chair down
the hallway, then her hurrying footsteps. When she appeared in the doorway, the look of concern
on her face quickly melted into surprised happiness as she saw Mary.

“Mary!” she exclaimed in a loud whisper, hurrying toward her daughter to wrap her in a hug.
“What in the world are you doing here?”
“I was in the area,” Mary replied quietly, smiling into her mother’s shoulder. Her mother was even
shorter than her—the only person Mary ever had to lean down to hug, other than Clem. “I
wondered if it’d be alright if we could stay the night.”

“We?” Mary’s mother pulled back from her and looked questioningly at Sirius beside her, who
immediately stuck out his hand to shake hers.

“I’m Sirius,” he introduced himself, smiling winningly at her. “Mary and I went to school
together.”

Meiying’s face broke into a smile. “I think I recall her mentioning you to me before,” she said. She
took his hand and gave it a shake. Sirius smiled down at her warmly.

Mary wondered in that moment what Sirius saw in her mother’s face. Mary’s mother had beautiful,
dark eyes, unlike her two daughters, who’d inherited both of their fathers’ light ones. Despite the
color of her eyes, however, Mary knew she looked like her mother. They had the same heart-
shaped face, the same nose, and the same eyebrows. Mary had her mother’s black hair, too. Still,
Mary had always thought there was some quality of her mother’s smile—the way that it lit her
whole face up—that she’d missed out on. Clem had it more than she did, she thought.

“Of course, you’re welcome to stay,” Meiying was saying to Sirius, giving him a warm smile.
“What a welcome surprise, really! I’ve missed my Mary.”

Mary returned her mother’s smile, a slight pang of guilt going through her. It was true that she
hadn’t been visiting as much as she’d wanted to in the last few months. Part of it was that she was
busier than ever, but another part of her knew that she’d stayed away on purpose. She didn’t talk to
her mother about the war, as she didn’t want to worry her, and what else was there to talk about,
these days? And if she did come here and talk to her mother, what was the likelihood that her
movements could be tracked by the Death Eaters? What if they decided to target Mary’s very
vulnerable family, despite the protective enchantments Mary had placed over their house as soon as
she’d turned seventeen?

“I’m guessing Clem and Paul are already both asleep?” Mary asked her mother, who nodded.

“They both turned in hours ago,” she said. “I’m sure you won’t wake Clem when you go up,
though. You know how deep of a sleeper she is.”

“I know,” Mary said, smiling. “I’ll still be quiet going up. I don’t want to wake Paul.”

“I’m sure he’d be happy to have you wake him,” Meiying replied, smiling. “He’s missed you, too.”

“Better to surprise him in the morning,” Mary said. She turned to Sirius, beckoning him towards
the sitting room. “Come on, you’re sleeping out here.”

Sirius followed her, casting a smile back at Mary’s mother as he went, making Mary roll her eyes,
unseen by either of them. Sirius really was a hopeless charmer.

Once she’d gotten Sirius settled on the couch, Mary kissed her mother’s cheek and headed upstairs,
her footfalls soft on the carpet. On the right, she entered the small room that she and her sister
shared. Clem was fast asleep on her bed, as expected, her dark hair spread out over the pillow, arms
curled around a stuffed hippogriff that Mary had bought her for her sixth birthday. Mary smiled at
the sight. Her younger sister, almost nine, kept growing steadily in a way that Mary knew would
soon threaten to overtake her and her mother’s heights. Her dark hair, much like Meiying’s and
Mary’s, was cut shorter than either of theirs, ending at her chin, and the smile on her face as she
dreamed reminded Mary, too, of her mother’s smile downstairs.

Mary closed the door quietly behind her, then tiptoed over to her sister’s bed. Softly, she brushed a
strand of hair out of Clementine’s eyes, then pressed a feather-light kiss to the top of her head.
Clem shifted slightly in her sleep but didn’t wake up, and Mary moved over to her bed, on the
other side of the room. Not having any pajamas, she merely climbed under the covers and drifted
off to sleep.

In her dreams that night, Mary was chased through shadows by a giant that always seemed only
one step behind her, then fell off a cliff toward a field of daffodils that glowed like the sun. When
she landed in the field, the flowers cut her with razor-sharp petals, and she woke in a cold sweat.

....

After breakfast the following morning, when Mary’s mother, stepfather, and Clem all tried to stall
them as long as they possibly could, Mary and Sirius were on the road again, driving back to
Bodmin Moor. They spent the first five minutes of the car ride in silence, Mary feeling strangely
awkward around Sirius now that they’d just left her home. None of her other friends from
Hogwarts had ever been there if you didn’t count the time that Lily had dropped Mary off in the
backyard and seen the outside of the building for a moment. It was a strange sort of feeling to have
her life in the Muggle world intermixed with her magical one.

“Your family’s really nice,” Sirius said after a while. Mary made a small sound of agreement in her
throat but didn’t reply. She felt Sirius turn to look at her. “Your sister looks a lot like you.”

Mary hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, I suppose she does,” she said. “Clem and I both look more
like our mum than we do like each other, though.”

Sirius made a small, considering sound in his throat, then shook his head. “I dunno,” he said.
“Your mum looks a lot like you, yeah, but I see more of you in your sister. You have the same
smile.”

Mary’s brow furrowed slightly, but she only shrugged in response.

“You really love her, don’t you?” Sirius asked, looking sideways at Mary. Mary glanced briefly at
him, then back to the road, only long enough to register the sadness in his gaze.

“I’m doing this for her,” Mary replied softly. “For all of them.”

Sirius made a low, understanding noise in his throat. “I know the feeling,” he replied. They spent
the rest of the car ride in silence.
 1980: Beautiful Boy
Chapter Notes

cw: childbirth

See the end of the chapter for more notes

April turned to May, and May to June, and James watched the rains slow and flowers begin to
bloom. With them, he began to see color return, too. When his parents had died, James had felt like
the world had faded into greyscale for a while, his grief so absolute that it sapped the color from it.
Still, there were things that brought him back: The first blooms, when the flowers that Lily had
planted in their little garden in Godric’s Hollow had burst into color. The day that he, Marlene, and
Dorcas had gone to his parents’ graves, a month after their deaths, and picked dandelions, leaving
them in a little bundle at the base of each of his parents’ headstones. The day that Lily had first
realized that she was showing, and then, only a few weeks later, when she first felt the baby kick.
When she’d placed James’ hand on her belly, and he’d felt the movement, too, he’d cried tears of
happiness, which, to him, was a welcome change.

It helped that he wasn’t the only one to grieve. He’d never felt alone, even in the darkest moments.
In Fleamont’s last moments, Sirius had been there with him, and in Euphemia’s, both Lily and
Sirius had been. To see Sirius break down after Euphemia’s hand had gone slack in James’, her
eyes fluttering shut for the last time, had felt like a reflection of his own pain, and it’d helped him.
Lily’s face had been pale white, tears streaming silently down her cheeks as she looked on, and
James knew what she’d felt, too: what it must’ve been like to watch someone else who’d taken her
in as a daughter slip away from the world. And when they’d left the room together to tell the
others, he’d seen Marlene’s and Dorcas’ faces crumple, too, had seen the way they clutched each
other as Marlene—fearless, unshakeable Marlene—had begun to sob into Dorcas’ shoulder,
Dorcas’ hand stroking down her back as tears slipped down her cheeks, too.

That the Potters had been well-loved was unquestionable. The number of people who’d turned up
to their funeral had been more than even James had expected. He’d heard stories about his parents
that not even they’d told him, from people he’d never known. These people remembered Fleamont
and Euphemia in their youths and made him imagine his parents young and strong again, fire
blazing in his mother’s eyes, his father, steady and strong, always by her side. The stories helped.
They made him think of life and helped him endure the nights when he woke up with tears
streaming down his cheeks, and the mornings when he rose and it took a moment to realize that
he’d never see them again.

Lily’s growing belly held a promise for the future, too, and that was the most poignant reminder to
James that he couldn’t check out, couldn’t fall so deep into grief as to forget that time was still
ticking on. He found meaning in that, instead. He took more time off work, decided that he’d finish
his Healer Training in five years instead of four, and focused his attention on the things that made
him feel present, and made him feel like his parents were with him still.

James cooked a lot. He’d found his mother’s old recipe book when sorting through their
belongings, which she’d never really used much anymore as she’d known everything by heart and
cooked by feel and intuition more than by book. Still, he was grateful for it and devoured its pages
hungrily. Some of the handwriting he recognized as her own, but some were unfamiliar to him. He
supposed that others had started this book long before her, and it felt like a piece of him. So James
cooked and cooked, and with every skill he obtained and recipe he perfected, he felt closer to being
himself again, and closer to his mother.

In addition to cooking, James had also started to knit. His father had taught him how to do it as a
child, but he’d never had much patience for it, back then. These days, however, he found it cleared
his head. Once in a while, Sirius, Marlene, or Peter would joke that he was turning into an old
woman when he brought out his knitting while people were over, but they only did it in good
humor, and James didn’t mind. Lily had begun to get slightly exasperated after a while, however.

“How many baby blankets can we possibly need?” she asked one day, hands on hips, looking
around at the nursery in wonder. “You need to start learning to make something else, James!”

James had complied with her wishes by making a throw blanket for their bedspread, and for the
sitting room, and when he’d finished those, he learned to crochet, too, and began to make a little
lion for the baby. This, it turned out, was much more complex, and kept him from drowning
everyone in blankets and sweaters.

Though Lily was clearly making a superb effort to suppress her mood swings, especially because
she didn’t want to take them out on James while he was still grieving, they still broke through once
in a while in her second trimester. By the time her belly had grown so big that she needed help to
stand up and was waddling everywhere, however, there was no stopping them.

James found her sitting on the floor of the nursery one day in late July, legs splayed out in front of
her as she stared hopelessly at the paint can laying a few feet away from her, which seemed to have
slipped out of her reach and was slowly emptying its contents onto the floor.

“Lils, are you alright?” James asked, hurrying forward to pick up the paint can, taking her cheek in
his other hand. She shrugged at him tiredly. He could see some strange smears of paint on the
opposite wall, which clearly were her attempts to paint something that had gone unfinished.

“Can’t you see?” she asked, her voice weary. “I’ve given up.”

James tried not to smile, though he could feel the corners of his mouth twitching slightly
nonetheless. Lily pregnant, he noted, was the same level of dramatic as Sirius all the time. He took
her hands and pulled her gently to her feet, then sat her in the rocking chair he’d gotten a few
weeks previously. He turned back to the spilled paint and siphoned it off of the floor and back into
the can with his wand.

“I think it might be time for you to stop helping with the nursery decoration,” he said. “You can
give orders, but no actual hands-on work.”

“I wanted to paint clouds,” Lily said helplessly. “But then I realized that I’m rubbish at art, and the
paint fell, so I decided that I’d just sit down and never get up again.”

“Okay,” James said, smiling at her and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Do you want
anything?”

“Tea, please?” Lily asked, giving him a hopeful smile. “And treacle tart?”

“Coming up,” James said, smiling at her and exiting the room. He’d perfected his treacle tart a
week before when Lily had strode into the kitchen and declared that if he didn’t provide her with
some she’d combust on the spot and take him along with her. Since then, it seemed she couldn’t
get enough of it, and James had made sure to have a constant supply.
When he returned with the tea and the tart, Lily balanced the plate on her stomach while she placed
the tea on the table next to her chair, and consumed every bite like she hadn’t seen food in days.
When she’d finished the last dregs of her tea, too, she looked at James with renewed fervor in her
eyes.

“I want to decorate the nursery more,” she said, “even if I can’t do it myself. Can we get people
over to help us?”

James grinned and nodded. “I’m sure our friends would be happy to be at your beck and call,” he
said. “Maybe Sirius and Mary can come up with something for the walls.”

And so it was that the very next day, Remus, Sirius, and Mary all came over, ready to help with
whatever Lily told them to do. Sirius and Mary got to work immediately, brainstorming together
about what they’d decided wouldn’t just be clouds, but a mural for one of the walls. Meanwhile,
Remus and James began to repaint the other three a light, sage green color. They’d decided to do it
the Muggle way, per Lily’s request, except with the additions of impervious charms for the
surrounding trim and floors, and a charm that kept them all safe from the paint fumes. Lily
watched as they worked, rocking slowly in her chair, hand resting on her stomach, chatting and
providing commentary once in a while, which James found very amusing.

“You missed a spot,” Lily told him, not for the first time, as he moved the paint roller over the
wall. He turned to give her a half-exasperated, half-amused look and found her grinning cheekily at
him.

“Purebloods, am I right, Lily?” Remus said, shooting a grin over his shoulder at James and Lily.
James shook his head, rolling his eyes and going back to the wall, while Lily giggled.

“Utterly useless, all of them,” she agreed behind his back. James grinned, though he didn’t turn for
her to see it.

Sirius and Mary returned from the sitting room with three pages of sketches for Lily to approve,
and once she did, they both set to work. Sirius sketched the outline of the drawings on the walls,
while Mary began to fill them in with paint. She took great care in filling in each outline on the
wall, each brush stroke deliberate and concentrated. James watched in awe as the shapes unfurled,
colors painted to fill the wall. It took hours, and at one point James went away to make lunch for a
bit. When he returned to serve them, Mary only reluctantly allowed herself to be torn away from
her work at Lily’s insistence. They sat and ate together, James, Remus, Sirius, and Mary sitting on
the floor while Lily sat in her rocking chair, balancing her bowl again on top of her stomach.

Then, Remus, Lily, and James continued to talk and watch as the mural unfolded. Sirius finished
sketching the outlines ten minutes before Mary reached them and went to sit beside Remus,
looking a little tired but pleased. When Mary finished her last brush stroke and stepped back, there
was Hogwarts in spring. The lake shimmered with what James recognized as late afternoon light,
the grounds dotted with yellow flowers. The castle stood on the hill, overlooking the scene, and the
Forbidden Forest stood facing it. The tops of the goalposts on the Quidditch pitch peeked out from
behind the castle. The Whomping Willow stood tall and prominent on the grounds, and behind it,
the Shrieking Shack could be seen in the distance.

They’d even painted in figures, which James recognized: Hagrid, standing in his garden, a
Hippogriff milling around in its paddock, and a centaur looking out from the edge of the trees. On
one of the banks of the lake, there was a small group of people. They were so small that James
could barely make out their features from a distance, but he knew who they must be. For a
moment, he felt like he was back there, sitting where his little painted figure sat, hair messy,
sunlight glinting off of his glasses, and laughing with his friends, all of them younger and much
more carefree than they were these days.

“It’s perfect,” Lily said, and James looked over to her to see that a few tears had run down her
cheeks to her chin. “Thank you.”

Mary gave her a smile, taking Lily’s hand in her paint-stained one and squeezing gently before
letting go. Sirius just beamed at her before looking back at the mural. They all stared at it for
several long minutes in silence, and James thought he knew what they were all thinking, knew the
longing that had taken over all of them at the sight of Hogwarts.

“It feels like it’s been so long,” Mary said finally, gazing at the castle with a wistful look in her
eyes. “But it really hasn’t been that long, has it?”

“Two years,” Remus said shrugging. “But you’re right, it feels like it’s been longer.”

“Two years,” Lily repeated, breathing out a long sigh. “God, I can’t believe it.” She smoothed her
hand over her belly seemingly unconsciously. “I feel so much older now.”

They all nodded and reluctantly, one by one, tore their eyes away from the painted wall. It seemed
as if a spell had been broken, then, and they all shook themselves.

“I have to go,” Mary said apologetically. “I’m going to surprise Clem by picking her up from
school. I told my mum I’d be there for dinner.”

“That sounds nice,” Lily said, giving her a smile. “Thank you so much for doing this,” she said,
gesturing at the mural. “I really love it, Mac.”

Mary smiled at her and leaned down to give her a gentle hug. “I’ll see you all later,” she said,
standing on her tiptoes to give all three men hugs, too.

“Tell your family hello from me,” Sirius said, giving her a wink. She laughed and departed.

“Okay, well,” Lily said, clapping her hands together. “Good time to get started on assembling the
crib.”

Sirius and James hoisted themselves up obediently and began to unpack the boxes. Remus, it
transpired, decided he was done with helping, and instead sat on the floor, chatting with Lily with
his back against the newly dried walls. Neither James nor Sirius minded, however, as it’d just been
a full moon a few days before. Still, this left them in the unfortunate position of having to assemble
the crib by themselves, which, it went without saying, was a total disaster.

“I think this part goes together with this one,” James said, holding up two pieces of wood for Sirius
to see, and raising his eyebrows doubtfully.

“Nah, that can’t be right,” Sirius said, squinting at the instructions. “Not the way you’re holding it,
anyway. It’d be backward.”

James, too, leaned forward to check the instructions, only half-concentrating as Remus’ and Lily’s
conversation drifted over to him.

“Anyway, I don’t know how the office would be functioning if Andrew wasn’t fully trained now,”
Lily was saying. “Chris came over the other week, and he said that he thinks Andrew’s actually
growing on him, probably just because he has no idea how anything would work if they didn’t
have him there to pick up the slack.”
Remus laughed. “Sounds like Stockholm Syndrome,” he commented.

“I think if we put this here—” James said, screwing up his face as he set about arranging the pieces
in what he thought looked like the right configuration. “And this piece there…”

“No, here,” Sirius said, moving it a bit. “Hold that, will you?” James did, putting his hand on one
side of what he thought must be the leg, as Sirius fumbled with another piece.

“And how’s Alaric?” Lily asked Remus.

“He’s good,” Remus said. “Honestly, I can’t believe the change that’s come over him in the last
few months. It’s the same with some of the other wolves, too. El has really been coming through in
recruiting, as well—”

“Don’t let that piece slip,” Sirius said, drawing James’ attention back. James tightened his grip, and
Sirius handed him another piece. “I think that goes on the end, too.”

James nodded and tried to tune back into Remus and Lily’s conversation. He hadn’t heard many
updates on the wolves in a while.

“—anything about Greyback,” Remus was saying. “I think he can see that the tide is turning, so
he’s gone deeper into hiding. That’s good and bad, really, because it means he won’t be recruiting
as much, but it also means I have less intel as he shows his face less and less.”

“But would you really want to be confronted by him?” Lily asked. “I mean, the thought of meeting
him sounds awful, especially for you, Remus.”

Remus shrugged. “I do what I can,” he said. “I don’t really know how I would feel about meeting
him, quite honestly.”

“Prongs, come on, head in the game,” Sirius said, nudging him.

James looked back over to Sirius and saw that he was gesturing for James to hold another part. His
arms were stretched wide now, wrapped around what was beginning to look more like an actual
crib, though he wasn't exactly sure how it would all stay together. Still, he held what Sirius told
him to, as Sirius sorted through the rest, beginning to piece together the other side as he held it
together.

“I bet Voldemort isn’t pleased with Greyback at the moment, at least,” Lily said. “I mean, all that
information you were able to get about his movements through the packs? Not exactly great for the
Death Eaters.”

“I’m sure he’s not happy,” Remus said, a satisfied note in his voice. “I shouldn’t congratulate
myself too much, though, given that he has others on his side, like Jade. It’s not their fault they fell
for his propaganda.”

“Sure, that’s true,” Lily conceded. “Still, sometimes people choose their sides. Unfortunately, we
can’t save them all.”

“I think I’ve got it,” Sirius said gleefully, and James looked over to see that it seemed that the last
piece was fitted into place. Sirius, like James, had his arms stretched around the side to hold it
together.

“Now what?” James said, his hands aching a bit from the tight grip he was holding onto the wood
to keep it from falling.
“I don’t know,” Sirius said, a note of confusion in his voice. “I think once it’s all together it’s
supposed to stay that way?”

“Really?” James said, frowning slightly. “But how?”

“I don’t know,” Sirius repeated, shrugging slightly in a way that made James wince, as it shifted
the entire crib upwards. “Maybe we let it go on three?”

“Okay,” James agreed, nodding. “One, two, three!” On the word three, they both let go, stepping
back, and watched as the crib teetered for half a second before it came crashing down. They both
lunged for it, trying to stop it, but then fell in a lump on top of the pile of wood, groaning.

“What in the world are you two doing?” a voice came from behind them, and they looked up to
find Lily and Remus staring at them, both of their eyebrows raised in identical, exasperated
expressions.

“We were trying to put the crib together,” James explained sheepishly. He looked back at the pile
of wood and winced. “It didn’t work.”

“Clearly,” Remus said, amusement evident in his voice, as Lily began to snicker. “Did it occur to
either of you to put some screws or nails in?”

James and Sirius glanced at one another, confused, and looked back at Remus and Lily. “The
directions didn’t really say anything about…” Sirius defended weakly.

Remus stood up and grabbed for the instructions manual, smirking. He turned it around and
showed it to them, his finger pointed at a picture.

“Do you know what that is?” he asked, his voice containing an exaggerated note of patience in it,
as if they were both very young children.

James squinted at the drawing, realization dawning on him. Sirius grumbled something
unintelligible, while James muttered, feebly: “The print is really small.”

“Uh-huh,” Remus said, turning back and giving Lily an amused look. “I think this might be done
better with magic, Lily,” he said sarcastically. “Unless you want that—” He gestured to the pile of
parts behind Sirius and James. “—to happen to your kid in the middle of the night.”

“You’re probably right,” Lily said, amused. She took out her wand, aimed it at the pile of wood,
and said: “Erecto!” Instantly, it put itself back together and stood in front of them, sturdy and
strong-looking.

Sirius and James were left to gaze, open-mouthed, at the newly-constructed piece of furniture,
wondering why on earth that hadn’t occurred to them before.

“The funny thing is that I know that they’re both very intelligent,” Lily said thoughtfully to Remus
behind their backs.

“Individually, maybe,” Remus replied, his tone containing a resigned sort of academic interest in it.
“But together, they just have two brain cells bouncing off one another.”

“We’re standing right here,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes as he turned back to glare at them. When
James turned, he saw the barely contained laughter in both of their expressions.

....
The next morning felt long and slow. It was a hot and sticky kind of day, where the sun stayed high
in the sky, unobscured by clouds. James thought that there was a feeling of expectancy hanging in
the air when he went out for his morning run, as if the atmosphere itself was humming with magic.

When he returned from his run, he found Lily in the kitchen already, making tea and examining a
letter in her hands.

“You’re up early,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple as he passed her to grab a glass of water.

“Mm-hm,” Lily said. “I feel odd this morning. I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep. I just
couldn’t get comfortable.”

“It feels like a strange day,” James said, taking a large gulp of water. He nodded to the letter in her
hands. “News?” He always felt a hint of anxiety run through him whenever a letter came, these
days, but he was trying not to assume the worst.

“Yeah,” Lily said, giving him a small smile. “The good kind. Alice and Frank had their baby
yesterday. It’s a boy.”

“That’s amazing!” James exclaimed. “What did they name him?”

“Neville,” Lily said, smiling down at the letter. “He was a little premature, but he’s doing great.
Mary sent this, by the way. She visited them yesterday evening after she got the news.”

She held out a picture for him to see, and James beamed down at the picture of Alice sitting up in
bed, Frank next to her, both beaming up at the camera with a little bundle of blankets in Alice’s
arms. Alice looked tired but happier than James had ever seen her, and Frank appeared positively
dumbstruck. In the moving photo, Frank kept looking from the camera to his wife and son, an
adoring expression on his face. James couldn’t see much of the baby except for a tuft of dark hair,
peeking out of the blankets.

“That’s amazing,” he said. “Something good to happen, finally.”

“It’s about time,” Lily agreed, smiling. Her hand was tracing circles on her belly, a habit she’d
picked up in the last few months. James moved to stand behind her, covering her hand on her belly
with both of his own, and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“I love you,” he said, breathing in the scent of her hair. “So, so much.”

“I love you, too,” she answered back easily. He heard her let out a deep breath, relaxing into him
for a moment before she stepped away.

“But if you want to hug me, you’re going to have to shower first,” she added, a teasing note in her
voice. James laughed and saluted her, going off to shower as she’d demanded.

The rest of the morning passed in a haze. Lily sat in the sitting room and read a book while James
sat next to her, crocheting, lost in his own thoughts. He made lunch at noon: a simple salad, with a
helping of treacle tart for Lily, due to the heat. She finished her helping of salad but turned her nose
up at the second half of the treacle tart.

“I’m not very hungry,” she said, wrinkling her nose slightly. “Maybe I’ll have it later.”

By twelve-thirty, Lily had started to shift around in discomfort. Her hand seemed permanently
positioned on her belly now, and with James’ help, she’d gotten to her feet and began to pace.
Callie sat on the couch next to James, both man and cat tracing Lily’s movements with their eyes
nervously. James had tried to follow her around before, but Lily had shoed him away.

“Is it time?” James asked her, and Lily shook her head, grimacing.

“No,” she said firmly. “They’re probably just practice contractions like I read about. I’ve been
having them a lot in the last couple of days. They’ll go away.”

“And if they don’t?” James asked.

“If they don’t, you can go get Dorcas or Hestia, whichever of them is available,” Lily said, eyes
closed, a slight grimace on her face as she moved around the sitting room. Lily had decided weeks
ago that she wanted Dorcas and Hestia to act as her midwives, as they’d both gotten training at St.
Mungo’s for birth and delivery, while James hadn’t had that rotation yet.

James watched in trepidation during the following hours, trying and failing to concentrate on his
crocheting. Lily snapped at him once that his hovering wasn’t helping, and he tried hard to force
himself to calm down. It was now clear that the contractions weren’t going away, but they still
weren’t close enough together to indicate that the birth was near, so they waited.

By seven o’clock, Lily had stopped pacing and had sat down on one of their chairs, a grimace on
her face. She finally relented and told James to apparate over to get one of the girls. James was
reluctant to leave her, but she rolled her eyes at him, a familiar exasperated look on her face even
through the haze of pain.

“I’m not going to deliver or get any worse in the few minutes that you’re gone,” she said. “But if
you delay, I might be tempted to hex you.” The last few words she spoke through gritted teeth, as
another contraction hit her and she closed her eyes, letting out a slight groan.

Callie, who’d been watching Lily warily from the couch until then, leapt off of it and made for the
stairs, her calico tail disappearing with a flick, no doubt going to hide somewhere until the action
was over. James gave Lily a wide-eyed, fearful look, then leaned over to press a kiss to her hair.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, moving away from her and toward the door reluctantly. She motioned
with her hand for him to leave, eyes still closed, lips pressed tightly together.

He opened the door and left with one quick, backward glance at her, then apparated on the spot. In
his haste, he forgot to apparate in a secluded area near Dorcas and Marlene’s flat, and instead
landed on their doorstep, but luckily there was no one around to see. He raised his fist and began to
rap on the door loudly and insistently, praying that Dorcas would be there. After a moment, he
heard the sounds of footsteps approaching on the other end, and the door was opened by an
annoyed-looking Marlene. The irked look on her face slid off in a second, however, when she saw
James’ expression.

“What’s going on?” she demanded.

“Lily—the baby—it’s coming!” James managed to say, fumbling over his words in his nervous
state as he bounced up and down on his feet. “Is Dee here?”

“I’m here!” Dorcas’ voice called, and she appeared behind Marlene after a moment, bag in hand,
pulling her hair into a bun. She’d clearly heard what he’d said, and there was a determined and
calm look in her eye, the one she always got in a crisis. “How long has she been in labor for?”

“She’s been feeling off since the morning, but started having minor contractions around noon,”
James rattled off distractedly. “They’ve been getting closer together since then. Now they’re about
five minutes apart.”
“Good,” Dorcas said. “Hestia has a shift at the hospital right now, but she’ll probably be able to
come by the time Lily has to start pushing. Can you owl her for me?” she asked Marlene, and
Marlene nodded, looking a little scared.

“Should I stay here, or—?” Marlene asked.

“Lily said she doesn’t want a lot of people around when she’s giving birth,” Dorcas said, again in a
business-like tone. “I’ll send you a message if anything changes, though.” She gave Marlene a
quick smile, then nodded to James. “Let’s go.”

James nodded and gave the hallway a quick once-over before turning on the spot again, feeling as
if he was reaching back through space toward Lily. He appeared in their garden at the exact same
moment as Dorcas, and she pushed her way in through the back door first, striding through to the
sitting room, where Lily was waiting for them.

Lily gave Dorcas a small smile, and Dorcas was immediately by her side, asking questions and
examining Lily closely, putting a hand to her forehead and checking her vitals. James sat across
from them, watching and wishing he could help more. After Lily’s next contraction hit, Dorcas
pulled out a stopwatch and set it.

“Is there anything you want, Lily?” she asked as the pain seemed to subside, and Lily’s face
relaxed some.

“Uh,” Lily said, catching her breath and wiping her brow. “Could I get some ice? And would one
of you owl Mary? I want her here.”

“You can get Lily some ice,” Dorcas commanded James, glancing over at him. “I’ll send a
Patronus to Mary. It’ll be quicker.”

“Okay,” Lily said, nodding tiredly. “Sounds good.”

Dorcas went into the backyard to send her Patronus to Mary while James hurried to get Lily some
ice from the freezer, handing it to her in a cup. She immediately picked up a piece and shoved it
into her mouth, letting out a sigh of relief as she did so.

“You can contact the boys to tell them what’s going on, if you want,” Lily told James, giving his
hand a slight squeeze as she sucked on her ice.

“Okay,” James said, squeezing back gently. “You still don’t want anyone here other than Hestia,
Mary, and Dorcas, though, right?”

Lily nodded, eyes closed. “Yeah, just us,” she said. “They can come afterward to meet the baby.”

“Merlin,” James said, a smile spreading across his face. “To meet our baby.” Lily’s eyes fluttered
open, and she gave him a smile.

“Yeah,” she said, then squeezed his hand very tightly as another contraction racked her body.

“Three minutes,” Dorcas said from behind them, having reentered through the back door. “This is
happening faster than I thought.”

After Lily’s contraction passed, she panted out: “What does three minutes apart mean, again?”

“It won’t be long before you have to start pushing,” Dorcas answered. “We should move to your
room now if that’s where you want to give birth.”
“Okay,” Lily said, reaching her hands up for James to help her stand. He did so, wrapping one arm
around her waist and taking her hand in another. Dorcas helped, too, and together, they guided Lily
up the stairs and into the bedroom. Dorcas examined Lily’s cervix and announced that she was
seven centimeters dilated.

“You’re in the transition stage,” she told Lily. “It could be fifteen minutes or an hour before you
start having to push. Either way, it’s happening soon.”

“Okay, Lily said, breathing heavily. She swallowed and nodded. “Great. Can’t wait.”

Dorcas grinned at the sarcasm in Lily’s voice and began to unpack her bag, pulling out a series of
potions and laying them on the bedside table.

“If you still want a pain potion, you should take it now,” she said, holding up a little bottle and
examining it.

Lily opened her eyes to look at it hazily, then nodded her head. “Please,” she said. “I need this to be
dialed down about a hundred notches if that’s possible.”

Dorcas gave her a sympathetic look as she measured out the potion and handed Lily a small cup. “It
won’t make it go away, unfortunately, but it’ll really help. Might taste like shit, though, so be
warned.”

“Nothing can taste as shitty as I’m feeling,” Lily joked, downing the potion in one gulp. She
wrinkled her nose and gave a small cough. “Though that does come close.”

“Sorry,” Dorcas said, then checked her watch again. “Hestia should be getting off her shift in about
half an hour.”

“What about Mary?” James asked, guiding Lily slowly around the room, her restlessness not
allowing her to sit still. As Dorcas’ mouth opened to respond, they heard a series of rapid knocks
on the door.

“That’s probably her now,” Dorcas said. “I’ll get it.”

As she hurried downstairs, Lily squeezed James’ hand again. “Tell the boys,” she said, echoing
what she’d told him earlier, and James realized that he’d completely forgotten her instructions
from before. He helped her over to sit on the bed, then pulled the two-way mirror that his father
had given him so many years ago out of his pocket and spoke clearly into it.

“Sirius!”

After a few long, agonizing moments, Sirius’ face appeared in it. “What’s up, Prongs?” he asked,
his voice casual and unconcerned.

Beside James, Lily let out a low groan as another contraction hit her, and James reached out his
hand to rub her back comfortingly. When he looked back down at the mirror, Sirius had a
concerned expression on his face.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Lily’s in labor,” James explained, resisting the urge to stand up and start pacing as he said it. “Can
you let Remus and Peter know?”

“Oh, holy shit, yeah,” Sirius said, his eyes widening.

James felt Lily relax next to him as her contraction eased, and she let out a slight huff of a laugh,
presumably at Sirius’ reaction. Sirius looked just as confused and helpless as James felt.

“Is she doing okay?” he asked nervously.

“Perfectly fine,” Lily said from next to James, and James tilted the mirror so that Sirius could see
her face. She gave him a slight smile in the mirror. “I’m as tough as nails, Sirius.”

“Obviously,” Sirius said, and James saw that the nervous look had slid off his face to be replaced
with an easy grin. “You’re braver than all the rest of us combined, Evans.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Lily said, smiling weakly. James turned the mirror back to himself and
said into it: “Can one of you apparate over to Lily’s dad’s to let him know, too?”

“For sure,” Sirius said. “I’ll do it.”

“Thanks, Sirius,” Lily said. “We’ll let you know when it’s over, okay?”

“I’ll be there whenever you want me,” Sirius said, nodding seriously. James thanked him and put
the mirror away, just in time for the bedroom door to open to admit Mary. Lily reached out for her
as soon as she entered the room, and Mary was immediately by her side, her hand squeezing Lily’s.

“How are you doing?” she asked, looking into Lily’s face intently. James noted that there was no
trace of the panicked girl he’d seen outside Lily’s hospital room when she’d been hurt: Mary had
clearly resolved to be calm and steady for Lily that day. James only wished he could be as
successful at it as Mary was.

“You know,” Lily said, gritting her teeth as another contraction hit her. “Hanging in there.” She
gestured for Mary and James to help her up again, and they each took one of her hands, guiding her
as she walked slowly around the room.

After thirty more minutes, Lily’s contractions moved to two minutes apart, and Hestia arrived.
Shortly after, they announced that Lily was ready to start pushing. This part felt the longest to
James, as he held Lily’s hand and they all encouraged her to push. Lily’s screams were deafening,
and James’ heart ached, wishing for it to be over soon, or that they could give her more pain
potion. Lily had refused it, however, and though she was covered in sweat and clearly in
considerable pain, her face was set, and she looked more determined than he’d ever seen her.

It took almost two hours, but at 10:13 p.m., Lily let out a final scream and the baby fell into
Dorcas’ waiting hands.

Dorcas looked up at Lily, beaming, and announced: “It’s a boy!”

Lily stretched out her arms, an exhausted but elated look on her face, and Dorcas handed him to
her. He began to cry, but Lily held him tight, an awed expression blooming over her face as she
looked down at him. James stared down at him, too, feeling shock and amazement wash over him
as he beamed helplessly at them both. He looked over to Dorcas, who was smiling at him so
widely it looked as though it would split her face. He grinned back at her goofily, then looked back
toward Lily and their child. Lily looked up at him, smiling, and he put his arms around her,
pressing a kiss to her cheek and beaming at their baby.

“He’s perfect,” Lily whispered, and James nodded, lost for words. Mary and Hestia were grinning
like fools, too, and when James caught Mary’s eye, she beamed back at him.

“Hi, Harry,” Lily said, stroking her hand over the baby’s head and smiling down at him. “Mama
loves you.”

James beamed at her. They’d spoken about baby names before and decided on one if it was to be a
boy, and another if a girl. They hadn’t told anyone of these yet, but all three girls surrounding them
beamed.

“We’re your aunties, Harry,” Hestia said, reaching over to touch his little fist gently, smiling.

“And godmother,” Lily said, looking up at Mary. Mary’s eyes widened and her face broke into an
even bigger smile.

“Godmother?” she echoed wonderingly, looking down at the baby in Lily’s arms.

“If you’ll do it,” James said, looking earnestly up at her from beside Lily. Mary smiled widely and
nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek as she, too, crouched down beside Lily and touched one of
Harry’s little fists with her finger.

After a while, their little circle broke apart. As Hestia helped Lily deliver the afterbirth, Dorcas
clamped and cut the umbilical cord, taking Harry to get cleaned up in the bathroom. When she
returned, Dorcas had wrapped Harry in one of the blankets James had so carefully made in the
weeks prior, and she handed him to James as the girls helped Lily get into bed. While Mary got a
washcloth, wiped Lily’s face clean of sweat, and put her hair up, James cradled his son in his arms,
feeling on the verge of tears and perhaps the happiest he could remember ever being in his life.

When he was finally able to tear his eyes away from Harry’s face, he found that Lily was smiling
up at him, a look of pure affection on her face as she regarded her husband and son. Dorcas, on the
other side of the bed, seemed to be wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

“Can you tell the others to come to meet him?” Lily asked. “My dad, and the boys, and everyone?”

James smiled, pressing a kiss to Harry’s smooth forehead before handing him back to Lily, the
baby gurgling softly as Lily settled him into her arms again.

“I will,” James said.

“He looks like you,” Lily said softly, smiling at James. He met her gaze and grinned at her.

“He’s all you, in my eyes,” he said. “But maybe that’s just because I love him.”

Then he pressed a soft kiss to her lips and moved away toward the door. He gave them a long look
as he exited, feeling as if a cord had already been pulled taught within him at the prospect of
leaving them, even if only for a few minutes.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said. Lily nodded, and he departed.

James got Lily’s dad first and brought him back to the cottage in Godric’s Hollow before anyone
else. He thought that Lily would probably want some time with him alone before the others came.
After Richard Evans, James apparated to Sirius and Remus’ flat. When he knocked, he heard a
great scramble behind the door, and it was Remus who threw it open, Sirius crowded in behind
him, obviously having raced him to the door. Behind them, James could see that in the sitting room
were Peter, Emmeline, and Marlene, all craning their necks toward him, eager looks on their faces.
His face broke into a weary smile.

“It’s a boy,” he said. “We’ve named him Harry.”

The little flat erupted into cheers. Remus threw himself forward to hug James more tightly than
James thought Remus had ever hugged him, and then Sirius was pushing him out of the way and
throwing his arms around James, too, squeezing even more tightly. The others crowded in, Peter
getting there next to give him a hearty slap on the back as they embraced, and pulling back only for
Marlene to nearly tackle him in a vice-like grip, Emmeline wrapping her arms around both of them
shortly afterward.

After a few minutes, James pulled back, laughing at all of their enthusiasm. “Well, if you want to
meet him, you’re all welcome, now!”

There was a bottleneck at the door, but soon they’d all apparated back to Godric’s Hollow and
were crowding in. Mary, Dorcas, and Hestia greeted them in the sitting room and followed them up
the stairs. When they made it upstairs, Richard was just exiting the room and beamed at the eager-
looking group of young adults as he met them on the landing.

“I heard you all come in downstairs, so I thought I’d make room,” he said. He gave James a
meaningful smile and put a hand on his shoulder. “He’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, he is,” James said, smiling back at Richard, something tugging in his heart at the way the
older man was looking at him, with his hand on his shoulder. He imagined his own father standing
like this with him and swallowed. Richard gave him a nod, a look in his eye that seemed to say that
he knew what James was feeling, and then gestured for them to enter the room.

James opened the door, and the others trailed in after him, suddenly a little calmer, as if they were
trying to keep their energy level at a lower notch so as not to upset Harry. Sirius entered first, and
when he caught sight of Lily in the bed, Harry in her arms, a strange look came over his face.
James sat down next to Lily on the bed and watched as Sirius followed him, a mixture of
tenderness and apprehension on his face as he looked down at the baby lying in his blanket. Lily
beamed up at Sirius and lifted Harry slightly, indicating for Sirius to take him. Sirius held back,
apprehension and worry all over his face as the others filed in around them, quiet and beaming.

“I’ve never held a baby before,” Sirius said hesitantly, looking down at Harry with a mixture of
longing and fear. Lily smiled.

“Well, how else is he going to get to know his godfather?” James asked, smiling at Sirius.

Sirius blinked at him, then looked down at Lily, who nodded, holding Harry out. James picked him
up and very carefully handed him over to Sirius. Sirius cradled Harry in his arms delicately,
looking like he felt that Harry would break like china at any moment. Harry’s fingers curled around
one of Sirius’ and held tightly to him, and James saw Sirius’ defenses crumble as he looked down
at Harry, his expression full of wonder. A tear slid down his cheek to his chin, and he blinked
rapidly. He looked up at James, his eyes wide, and James grinned at him.

“Fucking hell, mate,” he said, and everyone laughed. He looked down at Lily and grinned. “Good
job, Evans.”

“Thanks,” she said, grinning back at him.

For the next half hour, the group passed Harry around. James enjoyed seeing each person’s
reaction when they first held him. Peter looked terrified, especially when Harry started crying,
while Emmeline was a natural. Marlene did a pretty good job pretending not to be overwhelmed,
but her façade faded when Dorcas placed Harry in her arms and she began to cry, beaming down at
him and trying to avoid splashing him with her tears. Remus held Harry uncertainly at first, looking
about as scared as Sirius that he’d break Harry, but soon, Harry was fast asleep in his arms, and no
 one seemed to want to move him.

There was silence in the room as they all watched Remus rocking Harry gently as he slept. James
tried not to think about all the things that waited out in the world for his son, about the war that
they’d brought this baby into, and how none of them knew when it would end. James held a
certainty, however, that he’d had ever since he’d first felt Harry kick inside of Lily: that Harry was
his to protect.

“One day, when this is all over, we’ll be a proper family for him,” James said softly.

Lily reached out to squeeze his hand, and he looked down at her. She gave him a slight smile and a
reassuring look.

“We already are one,” she said.

Chapter End Notes

Creds to @mal_khn on TikTok for the James knits/crochets headcanon!

I learned a lotttt about pregnancy and childbirth when doing research on this chapter
(spoiler alert I've never been pregnant or given birth to a child lol). I shouldn’t be
surprised by how inaccurate most media is about it, and yet I somehow was.

Some fun facts:

- There are three stages of labor even before the person has to start pushing (if it's a
vaginal birth)
- Early labor takes about 8-12 hours, and that's usually when the "water" breaks, but
only about 15% of people giving birth actually have their water break
- Active labor takes about 3-5 hours, and then the transition period lasts about 30
minutes to 2 hours before you have to start pushing
- The actual birth can be as short as 20 minutes or as long as hours
- Then there's an afterbirth as well, but that doesn't take that long and is easier I guess

So yeah...it takes a fucking long ass time. Yeesh.

Anyway, I thought it was most realistic to have Lily give birth at home, seeing as
there's no known maternity ward for St. Mungo's and it just seemed like that might be
what wizards do since they have healing spells and such to make childbirth less risky.
Also, they're in the middle of a war so it's probably the safest.
 1980: Young Warriors
Chapter Notes

cw: non-major character death

Emmeline ducked out of the rain that was cascading down in heavy sheets onto the dark
cobblestones of Athens, and into an alleyway protected by the overhang of the buildings around it.
She was there for work, in multiple senses: Oxford had sent her to visit an etching in the Agora and
see if applying a new lens would help its interpretation and research, while Dumbledore had
instructed her to visit a well-known seer there to deliver a letter which he was worried about falling
into the wrong hands. Emmeline didn’t know what the letter contained, but unfortunately, both of
her missions had been a bust. The etching was still as unyielding as when she’d last visited, and the
seer was nowhere to be found.

She sighed, her hand trailing over the place in her jacket where the unknown letter lay. When she’d
gone to the seer’s abode, she’d found it completely deserted, but with no sign of a struggle.
Emmeline hoped that the man had just decided to leave to go into hiding, and not the alternative,
but either way, it sent a shiver down her spine. Things were changing, that was for sure. A part of
Emmeline itched to open the letter to see what was inside of it, wondering if it would explain any
part of what had been happening in the past months, but it was sealed tightly so that Dumbledore
would know if it’d been opened.

The bubble of happiness created by Harry’s birth had seemed to pop as soon as it’d been blown.
The month of August had held one of the largest numbers of Death Eater attacks that Emmeline
could remember since she’d joined the Order, and with the disappearance of the seer now at the
start of September, she wasn’t hopeful for the month to come. What made it worse was that the
giants were finally starting to be involved, which brought the destruction to a whole new level that
they had no idea how to counter. None of her friends knew what was going on, nor did anyone else
she’d spoken to in the Order. Deep down, Emmeline felt a flicker of distrust growing toward
Dumbledore, who she guessed always knew more than he was saying.

Emmeline took a deep breath and raised her hand to eye level, looking at the phoenix bracelet that
had begun to burn, triggering her swift exit from the main street. These days, she was so used to the
messages that she felt almost desensitized to them. This one, like many of the others in the past
month, had been sent to the whole Order, not just those on duty. On the back, it read: Fight
between DEs and unknown group in London. Please respond. Then, there was a set of coordinates.

Emmeline pushed her wet hair out of her face and behind her ears, then looked around the
alleyway. It was deserted but for a stray cat sitting against the opposite wall, paws tucked under it
as it avoided the rain, and eyes fixed inscrutably on Emmeline. There were a lot of cats in Athens,
Emmeline had noticed. Still, she didn’t enjoy the feeling of being watched. These days, she felt as
if eyes were everywhere.

Taking a deep breath, Emmeline broke eye contact with the cat and looked away toward the street.
It was like a fantasy: to live in a different city, to be far away from her life, but she knew that she’d
never really run from it all, even if part of her wanted to. She sighed again and gave the alleyway
one last cursory check, patted the place where the letter was in her jacket to make sure it was still
there, and then turned on the spot, forcing her way into the compressing darkness, the coordinates
fixed in her mind.

When the compressing feeling of apparition lifted, Emmeline found herself standing in the
doorway of a warehouse. Her ears were immediately assaulted with the sounds of battle. She raised
her wand but had trouble finding a target to aim at in the darkness. The Death Eaters weren’t so
distinguishable from the people fighting them, who were all wearing dark colors, too. She spotted
the swish of a dark cloak, the glint of a mask, and bounded forward, shooting a jinx at the Death
Eater, which connected. He fell back, screaming as boils erupted over his skin.

“Thanks, mate!” the wizard who’d been dueling the Death Eater yelled in Emmeline’s direction,
then disappeared back into the crowd.

Emmeline looked after him in confusion, then caught sight of a familiar face in the mayhem:
Hestia, her wand out, fighting side by side with Peter. Hestia spotted Emmeline at the same
moment and gestured for her to approach. As she did so, Peter shot a jinx at one of the Death
Eaters they were dueling, making the man double over, clutching his stomach, and buying the two
women a few moments to speak.

“What’s going on?” Emmeline shouted as she ran toward Hestia, still trying to see in the oppressive
darkness.

“No idea!” Hestia yelled back. “But look for the glow-in-the-dark paint on people’s backs! That’s
how you know who not to jinx!”

Emmeline turned around on the spot and realized that she was right. Many of the people who
seemed to be fighting the Death Eaters had a painted symbol on their backs. Emmeline couldn’t
make out what it was at that moment, but she immediately aimed her wand at a dark figure battling
one of them and disarmed him. The man turned, and Emmeline saw the light of another spell
glinting off of his Death Eater mask as he tried to find his wand in the dark.

“Who are these people?” Emmeline shouted into the dark, but no one responded to her this time,
busy as they were fending off the attack.

Emmeline shot a stunning spell at another Death Eater, but he dodged it, and it narrowly missed a
figure that had just entered the fray, whose loose blonde hair Emmeline would recognize
anywhere. Behind Marlene ran Dorcas, whipping her wand out of her sleeve and shooting a jet of
light toward a passing masked Death Eater.

The Death Eaters were realizing that they were outnumbered, now, as the Order members began to
rush in at them. The one fighting Hestia hesitated, looking over his shoulder, still holding a shield
charm up between him and Hestia. Then, with a swift jerk of his head to his companion, he twisted
on the spot and vanished with a small pop. The Death Eater beside him followed, and then they
were all disappearing left and right. Marlene let out a cry of frustration as her stunning spell went
right through the space where a Death Eater had just been and hit the opposite wall.

After a moment, however, they were all gone, the spells had stopped, and the warehouse had been
thrown into almost complete darkness but for the slight glow of the symbols on the backs of those
they’d come to rescue. There was a moment of silence, then a brilliant flash of wandlight flooded
through the room. At the center of the light stood a figure whose features Emmeline couldn’t quite
make out as she squinted in the bright light.

“Who are you all?” the figure demanded, her Scottish-accented voice full of unexpected anger.
“What are you doing here?”
Emmeline’s mind reeled, and she squinted even more determinedly into the bright light toward the
outline of the girl whose voice sounded so familiar.

“Florence?” Marlene demanded, her voice filled with disbelief, squinting into the light, too. “Is
that you?”

The girl turned toward Marlene, her wand falling to her side so that Emmeline could now make out
the shape of her face. Her curly ginger hair was pulled into a braid, though tendrils still escaped to
frame her face, and her ice-blue eyes widened. She stared at Marlene, her angry expression
transforming rapidly into disbelief.

“Marlene?” she demanded.

“It’s me,” Marlene said, stepping forward. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Florence said, her voice rising slightly, though it sounded less
angry and more confused, now, as if she didn’t know quite how to react to seeing her old teammate
in this place. “Your little group just allowed all the Death Eaters to escape!”

She gestured around at the rest of them, and Emmeline now saw that a dozen Order members were
there: in addition to Dorcas, Marlene, Hestia, Peter, and Emmeline, there were Mary, Sturgis,
Edgar, the Prewett brothers, Sirius, and Remus.

“Florence,” said a deeper voice off to her left, the speaker’s tone holding a slight rebuke in it.

Emmeline peered in the man’s direction and felt another jolt of surprise go through her. It was
Marcus. His hair looked a bit longer, and his eyes had a hard glint in them that she hadn’t seen
before, but it was him. He stepped forward further into the light.

“The Death Eaters ambushed us,” he said. “If they hadn’t come, we could’ve all been killed.”

“The tide was turning,” Florence argued, anger set into the lines of her face. “I for one wanted to
make our injuries worth it by capturing at least a few of them.”

“The tide turned because of them,” Marcus said, gesturing around at the Order members who were
frozen in place, seemingly unsure of how this scene would play out. As he looked around the
room, his gaze settled upon Emmeline, and his eyes widened in recognition.

“Emmeline?” he asked, taking a cautious step toward her. “Emmeline Vance?”

“Hello, Marcus,” Emmeline said, giving him a slightly shaky smile. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“What the bloody hell is going on?” Sturgis piped up, looking around in confusion. “Who are you
all?”

“Sturgis Podmore, right?” Florence said, tilting his head to examine him curiously, not answering
his question. “I remember you from Hogwarts.”

“Florence O’Connor,” Sturgis returned, raising his eyebrows and looking unintimidated. “I was
referring to the fact that you were all just fighting Death Eaters.”

“You must be the Order of the Phoenix,” another woman piped up. She looked a bit older than
Marcus and Florence, and her gaze raked around the Order members, giving them an appraising
look. “Did you really think you’re the only ones fighting this war?”
“You’re all members of the Quidditch league!” Mary exclaimed, surprise coloring her voice.
“Miranda mentioned that you were fighting back.”

Marcus turned to look at her at the sound of his younger sister’s name, looking defensive and
suspicious. “How do you know my sister?”

“I’m Mary Macdonald,” Mary replied. “Miranda and I were friends at Hogwarts.”

Marcus stared at her for another moment, his features still tensed suspiciously before he tilted his
head at her, a flicker of recognition lighting in his eyes.

“You’re the one who got attacked in my last year at Hogwarts,” he said. “My sister told me about
you.”

Mary nodded, holding his gaze and not even flinching at the reminder of what had happened to her.
Marcus seemed satisfied and turned to Florence, raising his eyebrows. Florence hesitated for a
moment, then nodded.

With that, it seemed, the rest of the Quidditch players decided that they could trust the Order
enough to let them help. While Sturgis and Edgar went to report the incident to Dumbledore,
Hestia and Dorcas flitted around the ground to evaluate their injuries. The ones who couldn’t heal
themselves allowed themselves to be corralled back to Hestia and Emmeline’s flat so that the two
Trainee Healers could help, Marlene tagging along for the ride, too, while all the other Order
members dispersed.

“How did they find you?” Emmeline asked Marcus as Hestia dabbed ointment onto a deep cut on
his arm. She knew from experience that it must sting, but he didn’t wince.

“The Death Eaters found a way into our communication system,” Marcus explained calmly. “We
don’t know how, but they managed to send a message for an emergency meeting, and it was a
trap.”

“What is your communication system?” Emmeline asked curiously, but before Marcus could
respond, another girl sitting beside him nudged his arm and shook her head, not looking at
Emmeline. Emmeline thought she recognized her as the Seeker on the Wimbourne Wasps. Marcus
gave Emmeline an apologetic shrug.

“Sorry,” he said. “I probably shouldn’t say.”

“It’s alright,” Emmeline replied. “I get it. You never know who you can trust these days.”

Marcus gave her a long look, then sighed. “It’s crazy to find you all mixed up in this, Em,” he said
after a moment’s pause. “Let alone you coming to our rescue. Last I saw you, you were just a shy
fifth year with a better goal-keeping record than our last two Keepers combined.”

“It’s crazy how time passes,” Emmeline said, shrugging. “I suppose I should’ve expected you and
Florence to be fighting in the war. You two were already fighting blood purists left and right when
you were at Hogwarts.”

“Yeah,” Marcus said, smiling a little wistfully. “Back then it seemed so much easier than it does
now. We were in detention all of the time, but that was the most we had to contend with.”

“I remember that it would drive Sam mad,” Emmeline said, grinning at the thought of their old
Captain. “He had to reschedule practice so often on account of you two.”
Marcus’ smile faltered slightly, and he looked down at his hand resting on his knee, his fist
clenching.

“I remember,” he said, his voice low. Hestia, who’d been silently tending to him, looked up at his
face with a concerned expression, and Emmeline’s brow furrowed.

“What is it?” Emmeline asked. “What’s wrong?”

Marcus looked back up at her and shrugged, a gesture that looked like it took a great effort. “It’s
just…Sam,” he said heavily. His dark brown eyes met hers unwillingly, and he sighed. “He died a
few weeks ago.”

Emmeline felt as if the earth had shifted under her for a moment, breaking apart so that she was
now dangling from a precipice. It seemed to steady slightly, and her eyes refocused on Marcus
enough to choke out one word: “What?”

“The Death Eaters tracked him down,” came a voice from behind Emmeline, and she turned to see
Florence looking sadly over at them from where she was sitting with Dorcas and Marlene, Dorcas
carefully healing a wound on her stomach. Marlene’s expression, Emmeline saw, was just as
shocked and devastated as she felt.

“They wanted him to join them,” Marcus explained, his voice leaden with sadness. “He was a
pureblood, after all. He left his family a few months ago to go into hiding, even though his son had
just been born, to keep them all safe. Still, they found him, like they always do. When he refused to
join them, they murdered him.”

Marcus looked across at Florence, meeting her gaze, an unspoken understanding of grief passing
between them.

“We found his body,” Marcus added quietly. Florence’s jaw tightened, and she glanced away
toward the floor, her fists clenching in a way that looked unconscious. There was a long silence.

Emmeline’s mind reeled, trying to understand. She flashed back to her first year on the Gryffindor
Quidditch team. She’d been thirteen when trying out, unsure of herself and scared of letting people
down, but losing herself in the game nonetheless. Sam Thomas had seen something in her, and
she’d barely believed it when she’d gotten onto the team. Emmeline remembered their last game of
the season that year when she’d been fourteen, and she’d had a panic attack in the locker rooms
beforehand. Sam had been the one to calm her, to tell her to play for herself and not worry about
the rest of them, or about Gryffindor. It’d worked. She’d gone out there and felt that rush of
electricity that came with playing Quidditch, forgotten about the rest, and they’d won. That day,
Sam had helped teach her something that she’d carried with her for the rest of her life: how to be
selfish. It’d helped her survive. Meanwhile, he’d still died for the ones he loved.

“What about Sam’s family?” Emmeline finally asked, looking from Florence to Marcus. “Do they
know what happened?”

Marcus exchanged a look with Florence, then looked back at Emmeline and shook his head slowly.

“We spoke to Sam before he went into hiding,” he said. “He was adamant that they shouldn’t
know, whatever happened. After Hogwarts, Sam mostly turned his back on the wizarding world.
He did it for Ora, the girl he’d been in love with since he was a kid, and then he married her. He
didn’t want to have to hide part of his life from her, so he left it behind. Then the war happened,
and it was safer that way.”
“He really wanted them to think that he’d abandoned them?” Marlene asked, disbelief in her voice.
“That he’d just up and left with no warning? That he didn’t care about them?”

“Believe me, I tried to talk him out of it,” Marcus said. “But he just wanted them to be safe.”

Emmeline’s mind went to Mary, who’d been left at a young age by her own father. Emmeline
knew that despite the fact that Mary always declared she was better off, and the fact that Paul had
acted as her father for many years, it’d still left a deep wound that might never heal.

“But he has a son!” Emmeline protested, staring at Marcus in disbelief. “How can we just leave
him to grow up not knowing who his father was—who he is? Unless he’s a squib, the secret’s
going to come out, sooner or later.”

“Look, do you think we like it?” Florence snapped, looking up at Emmeline angrily. “We hate it,
but Sam made us promise, and I’m going to keep my last promise to him!” Her eyes filled with
tears at her last words, and she shook her head and looked away again.

Marcus glanced at Hestia as if asking permission to move, and she withdrew her wand from his
arm, nodding. He walked over to Florence and sat down next to her, Marlene scooting away to
make room, and wrapped his arm around her. Florence closed her eyes, her face screwed up as if
she was trying to avoid tears, and leaned into him. Emmeline stared at them for a moment, then
looked over to meet Marlene’s eyes. They shared a look of helplessness, Marlene’s face holding a
mix of grief, confusion, and conflict in it.

As Emmeline looked back at Florence and Marcus, holding each other in that protective pose like
it was them against the world, she thought about how she hadn’t yet lost something to this war, not
in the way that they had. This was the first time she’d been confronted with the death of a friend in
the fight against Voldemort. Even now, even in the way it cut into her, it wasn’t the same as it was
for them, who’d been much closer to Sam than she’d ever been. Emmeline wondered how many
times they’d buried friends. She wondered how many last promises they’d vowed to keep. She
imagined doing that—imagined trying to fulfill Hestia’s last wish, or Mary’s, Lily’s, Marlene’s,
Dorcas’, Remus’, James’, Sirius’, Peter’s…the thought of losing anyone in the Order made her
throat tighten. The thought of losing her friends…well, that was unbearable.

Therefore, she kept her mouth shut. Emmeline thought of Sam’s son, raised to believe that his
father had abandoned him, growing up with a little piece of him always feeling unwanted, and her
heart ached. She thought of him finding out who he was and not having anyone there to explain it
to him, and the thought burned. She thought of Sam, and how he would’ve been the best father, and
had to push away tears. And yet, this had been Sam’s last wish: to keep his family safe.

Selflessness, Emmeline thought bitterly. Is this really what it looks like these days? A wife
believing that her husband left her, and a son growing up without his father? Still, she kept her
mouth shut.

An hour later, when all of the members of the group had been patched up to the extent that Hestia
and Dorcas could do so, they began to leave, one by one. The group look rather dejected, tired and
still smeared with blood and ointment. As they filed out, Emmeline caught sight of one of the
symbols on their backs again and realized it was an uruz rune. She’d seen it many times and
translated it in many different ways. Still, she could guess what it meant to them: it meant strength,
independence, and an unstoppable tide of change. She saw it in them: the blaze of anger in
Florence’s eyes when the Death Eaters had departed, the exchanged glances, the unspoken code
between Marcus and the other girl, telling him not to share their secrets. They were a group of
young warriors who fought rather than involve themselves in politics or in the Order. She
wondered which way was better, and who would survive in the end. Perhaps neither of them
would.

“Thanks for coming to our rescue, again, and for healing us,” Marcus said, swinging his jacket
around his shoulders and giving them a nod. He smiled at Hestia specifically. “You were one of
the first there, and you really saved our necks. Thank the others in your group, will you? That blond
bloke, Prewett, and the older man.”

“I’ll let them know,” Hestia said, giving them a smile. Emmeline guessed that Hestia’s quick
arrival on the scene was probably due to the fact that she’d actually been part of the group on call
for the Order, along with Peter, Fabian Prewett, and Edgar Bones. They were the real ones who’d
turned the tide of the fight.

“How’s Miranda?” Emmeline asked Marcus just as he was turning to leave, Florence at his side.
His shoulders tensed at her words, and Florence put a comforting hand on his uninjured arm. He
hesitated, turning back halfway but not fully facing her.

“Still fighting,” Marcus replied shortly, meeting her eyes for only a moment. Emmeline thought
she saw a flash of sadness in them. “Just like the rest of us.”

With that, they both turned and followed the rest of their comrades out the door, shutting it behind
them. After a moment, Emmeline heard the pop that indicated that they’d apparated away.

She turned to look at Hestia, Dorcas, and Marlene. The looks of horror on their faces mirrored her
own. All their eyes said the same thing: that this was the real cost of war. Emmeline’s mind drifted
to Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, which was only a week away. She wasn’t sure how she’d
sit in her parents’ house with her family, celebrating the year to come. When she looked ahead, all
she could see was darkness.
 1980: The Traitor
Chapter Notes

cw: graphic depictions of violence

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The plan to capture a Death Eater unfolded like so many ill-begotten Marauders pranks had, back
in their school days. They always started with a casual comment—sometimes a joke—but then
became a reality. In this case, however, it wasn’t just a plan that a group of teenagers had come up
with, but involved high-level Ministry employees and carried quite a bit more risk than any of their
pranks ever had—at least not the ones Peter would admit knowledge of before the fact.

Still, it’d started with a casual comment, and that comment, unusually, had been Peter’s. In
frustration in one of their Order meetings, where they were again trying to make sense of how bad
things had gotten and how to reverse them, he’d burst out in frustration:

“Obviously none of our recon missions in the past year have done anything at all! In fact, we’d
probably have been better off just asking a Death Eater what they’re doing and hoping that a
fraction of that information is true!”

Peter hadn’t thought anyone had listened until he saw the furrow between Alastor Moody’s
eyebrows and the look he exchanged with Dumbledore. It was a look that was familiar to Peter, but
absolutely out-of-place on the face of a middle-aged man, rather than that of Sirius, James, or
Remus. A scheme was forming.

“The boy’s got a point,” Moody said to Dumbledore. “Seems like we haven’t been finding much
out just by sending them to scout out vague leads. Might be better to try and get the information
straight from the horse’s mouth.”

Dumbledore looked thoughtful but didn’t reply right away. Instead, it was Caradoc Dearborn who
responded, looking frustrated. “But we’ve tried capturing Death Eaters before! It’s not like we were
just letting them go on purpose.”

Moody shrugged. “True,” he said. “But most of those times we’ve been on the defensive. We only
go after Death Eaters when they attack, and then we’re just trying to survive. In those situations,
it’d be ideal to capture one, but it’s not our top priority.”

“So you’re suggesting that we plan a mission whose sole purpose is to capture a Death Eater?”
McGonagall broke in, a doubtful expression on her face. “And how do you propose we do that?
Taking into account, of course, that this would be putting members of the Order into danger that
may not strictly be necessary.”

Her tone was all rebuke, and Peter wondered how Moody didn’t cringe under it, only returning her
glare with a thoughtful look. Then again, Peter supposed that Moody had never had McGonagall as
a professor. He himself had been trained to retreat as soon as she fixed him with that look.

“I think, Minerva,” Dumbledore broke in at last, and all eyes turned to him. Peter was surprised to
find that there was a slight smile on his face, and his blue eyes twinkled. “That we have the perfect
group in the Order to plan such a mission.”

McGonagall narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Albus,” she
returned, raising an eyebrow as if challenging him to go on and threatening him not to.

“Oh, I’m sure you do,” Albus said, giving her an amused smile. Then, he turned his gaze squarely
onto Peter, who shrank back a little under the stare. Dumbledore’s way of looking right through
people had always unnerved him. The old headmaster’s gaze shifted slightly, and Peter realized
that he was looking not only at him, but James, Sirius, and Remus, too.

“Well, boys,” he said, the note of amusement remaining in his voice as he regarded them
appraisingly. “Ready to put your considerable talent for mischief to use? I seem to remember a time
in your third year when I walked into my office to find all my furniture stuck to the ceiling, and to
this day I still have no idea how you managed to do it all while avoiding detection. I believe that is
the kind of skillset we need to plan such a venture as this.”

“If you recall, Professor,” Sirius replied, a mischievous note in his voice, suppressing a grin. “The
culprit for that was never found. Though I’m flattered that you assume it was us.”

Dumbledore chuckled softly, but his eyes remained on Sirius, who didn’t shrink back from them in
the way that Peter had but only smiled.

“Will you do it, then?” Dumbledore asked again.

Peter glanced at Remus, who gave him a shrug, then looked towards James, who grinned. Sirius
didn’t look at any of them, but a wide grin spread across his face as he continued to meet
Dumbledore’s blue gaze.

“Definitely,” he said.

....

That was how Peter found himself, a few days later, sitting atop a rooftop in London with Hestia,
waiting for a signal. Hestia’s legs were hanging off of the rooftop as she leaned back, one hand
supporting her. Her dark hair was tied back loosely into a ponytail for the fight to come, but her
bangs nearly fell into her eyes. Peter guessed she must not have had much time to trim them
recently, with all that was going on.

She glanced over to him and smiled, and he returned it, realizing as he did so that he must’ve been
staring too long. He didn’t bother to blush, however, as he would’ve done if he’d still been a
teenager.

“How much longer do you reckon we’ll be here?” he asked instead, glancing back out at the sky,
which was rapidly approaching sunset. Hestia pulled back her sleeve to check her watch and
shrugged.

“Thirty minutes, about,” she suggested, reaching over to grab a handful of nuts from the bag he
was holding and shoving them into her mouth all in one, crunching loudly.

The corner of Peter’s mouth pulled up in a smile. “I’d say fifteen,” he said, a note of amusement in
his voice. “We’ve already been here for about twenty minutes, and I don’t think it’ll take much
longer for James and Sirius to lead them to us.”

“Bet on it?” Hestia asked, extending her hand to him, her expression mischievous. “Because I
think, knowing them and their plans, they’ll run into some obstacle along the way. Nothing
insurmountable, but just enough to delay.”

Peter smirked, and stuck his hand out to shake hers. “You’re on,” he said.

As they shook, her thumb brushed over the back of his hand, and a little tingle went through him
starting at the point of contact. Judging by her mischievous expression, Peter knew that she’d
meant to do it. He drew back and turned to the skyline again, smiling slightly to himself. Hestia,
beside him, began to hum softly under her breath, kicking her legs casually as they dangled over
the edge of the roof.

This was what it’d been like for the past few months with Hestia. Though they’d never really been
friends in school, when they’d graduated and joined the Order together, Dumbledore had placed
them in the same group for Order duties, and this had resulted in them spending a lot more time
together than they ever had before. They’d spent nights staking out locations where Death Eaters
were rumored to attack, days in disguise trying to gain information from unsuspecting wizards and
Muggles alike, and fought side by side many times. Somewhere along the way, a sense of comfort
and trust had grown between them. Peter knew that this had been true with other unlikely pairs, too,
who’d ended up on the same Order shift. Marlene and Lily, for instance, were closer than they’d
ever been, as were Dorcas and Sirius.

Still, there was something else with him and Hestia, something Peter had never expected to find
with her, as he’d always found her a bit intimidating at Hogwarts. Of course, he’d felt that way
about most girls, back then. Perhaps it was something about the trust that had first started between
them that allowed him to sit there next to her, calm and collected, after she’d just brushed her
thumb against the back of his hand and smiled at him in that playful way.

They’d had that sort of casual flirting game going on between them for the past months, and while
neither of them had voiced it, they both knew what it was. There was a surety, too, Peter thought,
in knowing that both of them knew exactly what was happening despite the fact that neither said it
aloud. He guessed that Hestia, like him, probably felt as if this thing between them could be
something if not for the war going on around them. Perhaps when it was all over they could talk
about it. Peter hoped they would. This, out of anything else in the past two years, had given him
hope.

There were moments that felt alright. Good, even. The night of Harry’s birth had been one of those
moments. When they’d all gone over to James and Lily’s house in Godric’s Hollow and sat around
on the floor, passing the baby between them, it’d felt good. They’d felt like a group again. When
Peter had looked down at Harry, bundled into his blanket, he’d felt utterly terrified. And yet, there
was a certain joy there, too, to see his friends so happy. Peter knew that James would be a great
father. And it meant that James had a family again, even after his parents had died.

Of course, darkness had crowded back in quickly. The increase in Death Eater activity in August,
September, and October had made them all more somber than usual. And while James occupied
himself with work, the Order, and now Harry, Remus and Sirius were throwing themselves even
more into the fight against Voldemort than ever. Now, they were both unemployed and solely
working for the Order. Peter tried hard not to feel bitter about the fact that none of his friends
needed to work but him, but the bitterness still crept in. He tried not to feel resentful about the fact
that they felt further away than ever, but that crept in, too.

It seemed that joining the Order hadn’t kept their group together in the way that Peter had hoped it
would. Instead, it felt like there were more cracks than ever. When making the plan for capturing
the Death Eater, Peter had felt like a Marauder for the first time in two years. But the truth was that
they weren’t really the Marauders anymore. They were now members of the Order of the Phoenix,
just like the rest. He’d felt them dissolve slowly over time, and he told himself that it’d been the
other three, and not him, that had let it happen. Nevertheless, Peter had resigned himself to it. He’d
made friends with others in the Order. He’d made friends at work. He hadn’t even bothered to tell
them about the unsaid feelings that had grown between him and Hestia in the past few months. He
didn’t think they’d really care.

“Look!” Hestia exclaimed, pointing down at the street.

Peter shook himself out of his thoughts and squinted down. There, he saw the unmistakable form of
Sirius’ motorbike cutting through traffic at an incredible speed, Sirius and James both seated on it.
From the back, Peter saw James look up to where they were and make some hand gesture that
Peter knew meant it was their time to go.

“You send the message,” Hestia told him, her tone suddenly businesslike and determined, aiming
her wand down at the street. “I’ll cover the street.”

Peter nodded, not bothering to argue, and pulled out his phoenix charm. He pressed his wand to the
metal and muttered softly under his breath, sending the memo to the next Order members to get in
position. Sirius and James were just the bait: it was them who’d lead the Death Eaters through the
city to their intended destination, trying to cause as little disruption as possible as they did so—
though Peter doubted that that was a priority of theirs.

Just as he thought this, he heard the tell-tale sound of a police siren and groaned under his breath.
No doubt this would be another complication. Hopefully, though, this wouldn’t stop the other
Order members from carrying out each part of the plan. When Peter finished sending the message,
he peered back over the rooftop, just in time to see a group of three Death Eaters streaking low on
the street on broomsticks.

Peter swore under his breath and aimed his wand at them just as Hestia did the same. In unison,
they said: “Confundo!” The three men seemed to slow on their brooms, weaving slightly even as
they kept on their path after James and Sirius. Good, Peter thought, lowering his wand. That had
been the plan.

“This is going to need a lot of damage control afterward,” Hestia commented, echoing what Peter
had been thinking as soon as he’d spotted the flying Death Eaters. “The Ministry may not be happy
with how many Muggles they’ll have to obliviate. Neither will Moody.”

“Yeah, well, Dumbledore will deal with it,” Peter said, sighing. “I just hope the night doesn’t end
with us bailing James and Sirius out of Muggle prison.”

Hestia snorted out a laugh. “I wouldn’t be surprised.” She relaxed back again, lowering her wand.
Their part of the plan was done. She checked her watch again and grinned at him.

“Twenty-five minutes,” she said. “I think that means I win.”

“I’d say that’s a tie,” Peter returned, smiling at her. She rolled her eyes but laughed.

....

“A dozen Muggles needed to be Obliviated!” Moody fumed, pacing and glaring at James and
Sirius an hour later in the Auror Headquarters in the Ministry as they stood across from him,
looking satisfied if a bit dirt-smeared and sweaty.

Peter stood with Hestia a few paces away from them, out of the way of Moody’s ire. Edgar Bones
and Fabian Prewett, who’d been stationed at another location in the city to carry out an earlier part
of the plan, were there, too. Dearborn, who’d been stationed with Moody at the end of their path to
capture the Death Eaters, was already in the interrogation room with the Death Eaters.

“Two Muggle police officers were involved!” Moody continued to yell. “And you didn’t even
manage to get them to the agreed-upon point, so Dearborn and I only managed to get two of the
three! The remaining Death Eater will tell Voldemort what we did, and he’ll likely try to break out
the two we managed to get!”

“Yeah, we acknowledge that the mission didn’t go quite as planned,” Sirius said a little too smugly
for his words to sound like a genuine apology. “But we did what we set out to do, didn’t we? We
captured two Death Eaters, and now we can interrogate them.”

“It’s only useful if they actually talk,” Moody retorted, glaring at Sirius. “If they don’t—”

“If they don’t, there’ll still be two fewer Death Eaters attacking people,” Sirius said, his grey eyes
fierce as he met Moody’s gaze. “And if I remember rightly, you’ve been looking for Igor Karkaroff
for six months! We caught him in a day. You should be thanking us.”

Moody looked like he wanted to tear Sirius limb from limb, and Peter thought that Sirius was quite
ready for a fight, too, from the way that he was glaring back at the older man. Peter was sure that
Sirius had been itching to have another go at the Auror after he’d dismissed his brother’s death, but
this was hardly the time.

“Look,” James broke in, uncrossing his arms and holding up a placating hand. “I’m sorry it got a
bit out of hand, but we can’t change that now. Can’t we just make the most of the situation? Wilkes
and Karkaroff are all we have, and that puts us in a better position than we were before.”

Moody’s gaze snapped to James’ face, and Peter thought for a moment that he’d yell at James, too,
but he contented himself with muttering a few swear words under his breath and turning away.

“Fine,” Moody said finally. “Come on, then.”

He turned on his heel and moved away, out of the door and down the hallway, gesturing for them
to follow him, and they did. He led them past several doors before opening one and ushering them
in none-too-graciously. As Peter entered, he saw that they were facing a window that looked into a
room with a table in it, where Dearborn sat with his back to them, facing two men.

Peter recognized Wilkes from school. He was a tall but weedy-looking boy with straw-blond hair
whose eyes kept flicking all around the room like he was looking for an escape route. Peter had
always taken him for a rather weak-willed crony of the more powerful Slytherin boys. Perhaps that
would work in their favor.

Igor Karkaroff, on the other hand, Peter had never seen before. He had jet-black hair and a
matching black goatee, and his chin was lifted defiantly in an arrogant pose, his lips pressed tightly
together as if he was trying to make a point of his unwillingness to speak.

“It’s one-way glass,” Moody explained grumpily. “They can’t see or hear us, but we can see and
hear them.”

As they watched, Dearborn stood up and moved toward the door. He exited, and, a moment later,
entered the room with the rest of them.

“Made any progress?” Moody asked, crossing his arms and examining the Death Eaters through
the glass. Dearborn sighed and shook his head.
“So far, neither has said a word,” he replied. “They don’t seem interested in any promises of
protection or immunity, either.”

“Wilkes might be easier to crack than Karkaroff,” Moody commented, tilting his head and looking
at the two appraisingly. “Though I think a bit of time in Azkaban would do well to make both of
them more compliant.”

“Dumbledore wouldn’t like that,” Dearborn replied, looking at Moody with raised eyebrows and a
mild expression on his face. Moody shrugged.

“Well, what are we going to do, then? We didn’t expect that they’d just tell us what we want to
know without some persuasion.”

“Why not use Veritaserum?” Sirius piped up. “Then they’ll tell us everything.”

“That’s a controlled potion, son,” Dearborn said, giving Sirius a gently quelling look. “If we use it
on them without their consent, it would be illegal. Anyway, many are distrustful of evidence given
under the influence of Veritaserum, these days.”

Sirius snorted. “I know for a fact that wizards just like them passed that law to make it harder to
convict Muggle-haters and murderers,” he said bitterly. “It’s bullshit.”

Moody looked for the first time like he might agree with Sirius, but he didn’t speak. Dearborn
didn’t reply either, only holding Sirius’ gaze for a long moment, his eyebrows raised as if to
communicate that he wasn’t willing to discuss the prospect further, until Sirius looked away,
shaking his head in frustration.

“Well, if they’re not going to talk, they have to be in Azkaban, anyway,” Moody said after a
moment. “They’re Death Eaters. That’s proper procedure. That’s what Meadowes will say, too,
you know it is.”

It took a moment of confusion for Peter to realize that they were speaking about Dorcas’ mother,
Diana Meadowes, rather than Dorcas herself. Of course, he thought. Diana was one of the more
senior Aurors, like Dearborn and Moody. Still, as Peter understood it, it was Dearborn who’d been
at the Ministry the longest, and Dearborn who had the most power.

“Well, it’s my call,” Dearborn said, giving Moody a quick look that made Moody deflate slightly.

Dearborn looked back towards the window, a crease forming between his eyebrows, looking
conflicted. Peter had always liked Dearborn most out of the older members of the Order. He wasn’t
as brusk as Moody, nor as intimidating as Dumbledore. He had a certain steadiness and kindness
about him, too. Finally, however, Dearborn sighed and looked back at Moody.

“Fine,” he said. “Take them to Azkaban. I’ll come with you.”

Moody looked pleased, but Dearborn ignored his smug look and glanced past him to the others in
the room. “Someone needs to report to Dumbledore,” he said, his eyes trailing over the rest. “And
since the plan was yours, you two can explain what went wrong.”

He nodded to James and Sirius as he said this, his voice devoid of any of the anger in Moody’s
earlier lecture. Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but James clapped a hand over it, rolling his eyes
at him and shaking his head. Peter felt a little indignant that neither he nor Remus was credited with
the plan, but then again, he didn’t want to take responsibility for what had gone wrong with it, so
perhaps it was better this way.
“You four are still on Order duty, right?” Dearborn continued, looking at Hestia, Peter, Fabian, and
Edgar. They all nodded, and he looked satisfied. “Good. Keep an eye on the area where we took
the Death Eaters from. There might be retaliation. Send word if you need any help.”

With that, Dearborn turned on his heel and left the room, Moody in his wake, casting a smug look
back at James and Sirius before the door closed behind him. Peter glanced over at Hestia, who
gave him a shrug.

“I guess it’s back to the London rooftops for us,” she said lightly, smiling, and he smiled back
weakly.

The last thing Peter wanted to do right then was to get into another fight with Death Eaters, but at
least Hestia would be there. He glanced back through the window towards the Death Eaters and
caught sight of Dearborn leading Wilkes, whose hands were bound, out of the room. Wilkes’ eyes
were still searching around the room, and for a moment, Peter felt as if they caught on his, and he
was unable to tear his gaze away. Then, Wilkes was forced out of the room, and the door swung
shut behind him. Peter turned back to Hestia, Edgar, and Fabian, and together, they moved toward
the door, heading back to London.

....

Peter was dozing when the first explosion went off. He’d been sitting on a rooftop next to the alley
where James and Sirius had lured the Death Eaters, Hestia next to him, for hours, watching the
street. Edgar and Fabian were on another rooftop across the way, also on the lookout for any
disturbances. It’d felt pointless, useless to be waiting there after many hours of nothing, but they
hadn’t received a message relieving them, so they’d stayed.

When he heard the explosion, Peter’s head had been lolling onto Hestia’s shoulder, half-awake and
half-asleep, but he shot straight up when the blast went off. Hestia leapt to her feet alongside him,
both drawing their wands and looking around for the source of the noise.

“It’s coming from Diagon Alley!” shouted Fabian distantly from the rooftop across the way, then
he disappeared on the spot, presumably apparating toward the source of the smoke.

In a moment, Peter saw the smoke drifting up from a spot a couple of blocks away, and realized
that Fabian was right. It also explained the fact that no Muggles seemed disturbed by the noise or
the smoke. They couldn’t see or hear anything in that hidden area of London.

“Come on!” Hestia said, grabbing Peter’s arm.

He was about to tell her to wait, but she didn’t wait for his reply, just turned on the spot, dragging
him with her into side-along apparition. Peter didn’t have a chance to take a deep breath before
going into the compressing darkness, and for a moment, he felt as if he’d suffocate. Terror took
over him, as it always did when he had to apparate, and he felt his heart begin to beat hard and fast
in his chest, compressed as it was. In a second, however, he was beside Hestia on the cobbled street
of Diagon Alley, and the air had returned.

Hestia didn’t release him but dragged him along with her grip on his hand toward the smoke as
Peter tried to calm his heart and breathe normally again. He cursed himself, telling himself to get a
grip. How could this still happen even after all these years? He was about to be in a battle, after all.
He needed his wits about him.

Peter released Hestia’s hand, and she didn’t protest but allowed him to run alongside her. Peter
could see Fabian and Edgar up ahead, still running, too. With a pang of fear, Peter realized that
they were approaching the Magical Menagerie, where he worked. The windows had been shattered
by the explosion, but he didn’t have time to look inside to see the state of the store.

As they got closer, Peter saw two hooded figures emerge from around a corner of an alley, and
Fabian immediately shot a jet of red light at one of them. The Death Eater only laughed, dodging
the spell easily, and the two figures raised their wands, shooting curses at their group. Hestia and
Peter both dived out of the way of the jets of green light that issued from their wands, Fabian and
Edgar diving in the opposite direction, and Peter landed hard on the ground, Hestia falling on him.
He felt the shards of glass from many broken windows cutting his arm and winced.

Hestia scrambled off him immediately. “Are you hurt?” she demanded, glancing around them,
wand drawn, before looking back at Peter in a sort of frenzied concern.

He sat up, looking down at his arm and wincing again as he pulled the sleeve back to reveal two
jagged cuts. Hestia took his arm gently in her hands, which were shaking slightly, and pointed her
wand at it. A few stray shards of glass that had lodged themselves in his arm were drawn out and
hovered in the air for a moment before falling to the ground, then she waved her wand again, and
the cuts knitted back together in an instant.

“Thanks,” Peter said, giving her a slight, shaky smile as she helped him get to his feet. “It pays to
have a Healer around in these kinds of situations.”

Hestia gave him a nervous smile in return. “Of course,” she said. After regaining his balance,
Peter’s attention snapped back to the street. The Death Eaters had disappeared.

“Where did they go?” Hestia asked, looking slightly puzzled. Peter shook his head in
bewilderment, too. It wasn’t like Death Eaters to up and run. The explosion seemed like a
provocation, but they’d fled from the battle.

“We should split up and search,” called Edgar, hurrying over to them, Fabian on his tail.

Edgar was the oldest among them and had a certain air of authority, which Peter was usually happy
to comply with. Still, splitting up and searching for Death Eaters was about the last thing he wanted
to do just then. Everything in him protested against the idea. He didn’t want to go find Death
Eaters to fight. No, Peter just wanted to go home, take a shower, wash his own blood from his skin,
and sleep. But as he looked around at the three other faces of his group, which were dirty and
bloodied but determined, he knew that he couldn’t say that. These people were brave. He didn’t
want to see how they’d look at him if they found out that he was really a coward.

So instead, Peter nodded. He agreed. He moved back towards the Magical Menagerie and tried to
ignore the wailing of some of the animals inside, to ignore thoughts of whether he’d even have a
job the next day. He moved toward the alleyway past the Menagerie, turning to look down it. That
was when he heard the shout. That was when he looked back toward the street and caught sight of
Hestia’s panicked expression, of her lips moving to shout a warning, of Fabian and Gideon running
up behind her. And that was when Peter saw the Death Eater who’d appeared just behind him, the
glint in his blue eyes behind his mask, and the flash of light at the end of his wand right before the
second explosion went off.

....

When Peter woke up, he sensed that he’d only been unconscious for a minute, if that. He wasn’t
where he’d been standing before the explosion, but whether he’d been moved by someone else or
whether it’d been the force of the explosion that had thrown him far into the alley, he didn’t know.
Still, he knew that something was wrong when he looked up and found the smirking face of Evan
Rosier staring down at him.

Peter struggled to get up, but when he did, a wave of dizziness came over him, and he slumped
back down on the ground, feeling weak and helpless. He looked past Rosier to the alley and was
perplexed by the haze he seemed to be looking at it through. Perhaps it was just the smoke still
clearing. Peter looked around for his wand, spotting it a few feet away from him, but when he
reached for it, Rosier’s boot came down hard on his outstretched arm, and he cried out. Rosier
laughed and kicked Peter’s wand further away. It rolled under the dumpster and out of sight.

“Don’t bother calling for help,” Rosier said, his voice cool. “No one can hear or see you here.”

Peter glared up at him, cradling his arm as he pushed himself into a sitting position, leaning against
the brick and trying to resist the urge to vomit as dizziness overtook him again.

“What do you want?” Peter asked, trying for anger and defiance. The words came out more afraid
than he’d hoped. Rosier laughed again.

“Want?” he asked, pacing slowly in front of Peter, twirling his wand in his hands. “What an
interesting question, really. A better one might be what you and your little Order of the Phoenix
friends wanted when they tried to capture me earlier today, along with two other supporters of the
Dark Lord. That’s a question I’d like to know the answer to.”

Peter clenched his teeth as a jolt of pain moved through his arm when he tried to straighten it and
looked up at Rosier. He realized as he did so that Rosier’s unkempt hair and bloodied face were
quite unlike what he’d been used to at Hogwarts. Rosier looked a bit unhinged, too, though he was
certainly trying for his usual emotionless exterior. Peter supposed it made sense if he was one of
the ones who’d been part of the chase and fight with the Order. Peter cursed their luck that it’d
been Rosier who’d escaped. Out of Rosier, Wilkes, and Karkaroff, he was sure that Rosier was the
one he was most afraid of being trapped in a dark alley with.

“I’m not telling you anything,” Peter spat. Again, the words sounded more tired and afraid than he
wanted.

Rosier smiled and raised his eyebrows mockingly. “You think that now,” he said. “But I know
you’ll crack. Quite apart from the fact that I’m about to torture you, I also know that you’re the
weakest link. That’s always been clear.”

Peter felt a rush of anger rise up in him, accompanied by bitter shame. Of course Rosier knew that
he was the weakest link. Rosier had known him at school. Peter might’ve been a Marauder then,
but he’d always been the one to watch and laugh instead of getting involved, always the one to run
and hide when things looked serious. He was the coward. Everyone knew it.

Still, perhaps Peter could prove him wrong. Perhaps he could, for once in his life, not run. He set
his jaw and looked up at Rosier, almost challengingly. Rosier smiled down at him and raised his
wand.

“Crucio!”

Peter didn’t mean to scream. The sound was torn out of him when the spell connected. He didn’t
mean to fall to the ground, or let go of his injured arm. He couldn’t stop the spasms that went
through him or the cries that issued from his lips. He knew nothing but the pain, which tore
through him and found its way into every limb, overwhelming and unavoidable. As soon as it
started, it was over. He lay panting on the ground, his body limp and tired, every nerve on edge,
waiting for the next jolt.
Rosier laughed and crouched down beside Peter. Peter saw distantly the shape of Hestia through
the haze that separated him and Rosier from the rest of Diagon Alley. Was she looking for him? It
must be true, then, what Rosier had said. No one could hear him. No one could see him. There was
no help coming.

“You take two of ours, and so we retaliate,” Rosier said softly. “Of course we know why you took
them. You wanted a source of information. You wanted someone on the inside to tell you how to
win. A good idea, to be sure, but fruitless, because Wilkes and Karkaroff are far more afraid of the
Dark Lord than they ever will be of the Ministry or even the Dementors. They’ll never break
because they know that your side will never use the tools that are needed to win. That’s the real
reason you’ve been losing, and you’ll keep losing. Deep down, Pettigrew, I think you know that.”

Rosier’s words seemed to come from far away, intruders in Peter’s ears. He didn’t look at Rosier,
nor did he try to push himself up again. He simply lay there and looked at the ground. Of course
Peter knew that he couldn’t win, regardless of whether the Order could. Layla had been right all
along. He’d die in this war. And it wasn’t because he was brave. It was because he was a coward.
A coward who couldn’t even bring himself to look defiantly into Evan Rosier’s eyes as he killed
him, to even put up a fight.

“Still, as I said, you had a good idea in getting information on the inside,” Rosier continued,
standing up and beginning to pace again.

With his unblocked view of the alley now, Peter could see that Hestia had gone. A part of him was
glad, while another twisted part hated her for giving up on him. He looked away and tried to ignore
Rosier’s monologue.

“Your idea made the Dark Lord think,” Rosier continued. “And he came to the conclusion that
while you couldn’t get one of us to turn, we could get one of you.”

Peter finally looked up at him, shock and dread coursing through him. Was Rosier saying what
Peter thought he was saying? Rosier smiled as if he knew that Peter was catching on.

“I thought it was perfect when I saw you tonight, Pettigrew,” Rosier said, grinning maliciously
down at him. “The weakest link in my grasp, and I knew I wouldn’t even have to exert much force
to break you.”

He crouched down again, meeting Peter’s gaze. His eyes looked like chips of cold ice. “Quite apart
from torturing you, Pettigrew,” he said silkily, “I can also point out that there are other ways of
persuasion. Ones that might involve others who are even more vulnerable than you.”

Peter flinched away from his words, and Rosier’s grin widened. “Yes, I thought that might be
convincing,” he said. “While I may no longer be at Hogwarts, I still have people there. People who
can easily reach, say, a fourth-year Hufflepuff and a second-year Gryffindor, is that right?”

Peter’s eyes widened, images of his siblings flashing before them. “Leave them alone,” he
managed to say, his voice hoarse. Rosier smiled.

“Your mother would also be so easy to reach,” he said slowly, cruelly. “Or perhaps that girl you
used to love? I’m usually opposed to killing purebloods, but—”

“Stop it!” Peter shouted, surprising himself with the force he managed to muster up. He closed his
eyes, blinking tears away from them. “Stop it,” he begged, voice softer.

“And there’s the other girl, too,” Rosier continued, unrelenting. “The one that you could love.
She’s not safe from me, either.” His voice was deadly quiet, full of venom, like a snake about to
strike. Peter had always been afraid of snakes, of the way they reared back, mouths wide, fangs out
before they struck.

“But perhaps you just need another taste of pain,” Rosier said, leaning back. “Maybe that’ll drive
the message home.”

Peter flinched again, and Rosier stayed still, waiting. Waiting for Peter to break. Peter thought of
Sirius, enduring the Cruciatus Curse for years, and he knew. He knew that he couldn’t do that. He
wasn’t Sirius, or James, or Remus, who broke every bone in his body once a month. He was Peter.
And he was the coward. He was the traitor. So he looked up at Evan Rosier, tear tracks on his
sweaty, dirty face, and said:

“I’ll do whatever you want.”

The wide smile that spread across the Death Eater’s face showed Peter that he’d done nothing less
than Rosier had expected.

....

Peter returned to his flat in Bradford before doing anything else. By this time, it was the early
hours of the morning. Peter felt numb. Apparating back hadn’t even felt as terrible as it usually did.
While his body was exhausted, nerves still on end, he felt almost numb to it, too. He barely even
noticed the pain in his arm anymore. In his bathroom, he looked in the mirror and was vaguely
surprised to see his face looking back at him, covered in dirt, ash, and blood. Tear tracks ran
through all the muck, carving lines down his cheeks.

Automatically, Peter turned on the tap. He’d have to hide this. No one could know what had
happened that night, and from now on, he’d have to hide it all. All the tears, blood, and injuries
were evidence. All fear and cowardice, all uncertainty: it was more dangerous than it’d ever been
before. Leaning down, Peter began to wash his face clean, the water tingeing brownish red as the
dirt, blood, and tears went down the drain.

When he raised his head and dried his face, examining himself again in the mirror, the sight felt
almost more unbearable than before. Without the grime, it was just Peter: his face white, eyes
wide, trying to take in the enormity of what he’d just done. The more he stared at it, the more the
shadows seemed to bloom, and the more grotesque it looked, as if something had taken possession
of it, and what was looking back at him was no longer his own face. Flinching, Peter tore his eyes
away.

He knew what he needed to do next. Make an excuse. Explain his absence. The longer the absence
stretched, the more questions there would be. He pulled out his metal phoenix and pressed his
wand to it, thinking for a moment before muttering a message. He didn’t bother to shower, though
he knew he smelled of smoke and his hair was still thick with ash from the explosion. Instead, he
moved back toward the door with jerky movements and exited. He turned into compressing
darkness again, focusing on his destination, and when the feeling hit, he tried not to be afraid.

Peter landed moments later on the doorstep of the person he’d wanted to see. He knew he
should’ve been more cautious, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Instead, he knocked and
waited. Moments later, he heard footsteps racing to the door, and it flew open, Hestia’s frantic face
appearing in the doorway, stained with tears. As soon as she saw Peter, she flung her arms around
him, squeezing him tight to her.

“Oh, thank goodness!” she exclaimed, her face buried in his shoulder as his arms unfroze and
 slowly wrapped around her, too. “Thank goodness,” she repeated, burying her face even more
deeply into his shoulder. He inhaled her sweet scent: her familiar perfume mixed with the smell of
smoke. Finally, after several long moments, she pulled back.

“I thought you were dead,” she said, her eyes wide. “We couldn’t find you anywhere after the
second explosion, and I thought—” She stared up at him, shaking her head and letting out a deep
exhale as if trying to calm herself down. “What happened?”

“I got knocked out,” Peter said, his voice shaking slightly in the lie. But he’d decided that this was
the most convincing explanation when he’d sent the message to the Order, and he needed to stick
with it now. “I think the explosion blew me back, and I hit my head on the wall.”

“There was so much smoke,” Hestia said, shaking her head, eyes still wide and distressed. “I
wanted to keep searching for you, but Edgar and Fabian said we needed to go, and I didn’t have a
choice. I’m sorry, Peter.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Peter said sharply, unable to bear the thought of her feeling guilty when he was
the one betraying her as they spoke, and Hestia looked taken aback for a second.

Peter cursed himself. He needed to do better than this. He needed to push away the guilt if he
didn’t want to be discovered. You’re the traitor, he told himself. Be the traitor. Every second you
feel guilty is another chance for someone to find you out.

Peter took a deep breath and tried to soften his tone. “You did the right thing, and I’m glad you got
out safely.”

Hestia’s gaze softened, and she gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m glad you did, too,” she said.
“Everything is such a mess right now. I just got word from Marlene that the two Death Eaters we
captured put up a fight on their way to Azkaban, and Wilkes was killed in the struggle. Karkaroff is
locked up, now, but I feel like everything we did just blew up in our faces, just like everything does
these days. And I—when I thought you were gone, Peter, I just—I’ve been so grateful for your
friendship this last year, being by my side when we’re doing Order duties all the time. I couldn’t
imagine losing you like that.”

Peter flinched slightly, thinking of Layla’s words on the platform at the end of their seventh year:
“I told you that I can’t bear the thought of losing you in the war.”

Peter took a deep breath and looked at Hestia, looked into her dark brown eyes which were so
interesting, so lovely.

“Hestia—” he started, then stopped, because he didn’t know what to say at all.

Then, without even really knowing he was going to do it, he was moving toward her, and then he
was kissing her. And she made a startled sound in her throat, but then she was kissing him back.
And he knew that he didn’t deserve it. He knew that he was a traitor, and deserved none of her
comfort, but he wanted it. He wanted her, regardless of whether or not he deserved her or whether
or not she deserved this. And perhaps it was terrible, awful, and incredibly selfish of him, but he
kept kissing her. And when she pulled him into her flat, throwing the door shut behind them, he
stopped thinking about anything.

Chapter End Notes

Peter: my friends don’t spend as much time with me as they used to

Peter: *goes and joins a fascist hate group about it*

 1980-1981: We Must Be Killers
Chapter Notes

cw: non-major character death, graphic depictions of violence, religious guilt

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“Marlene.” Lily’s voice was gentle. It came from far away, sounding distant. Her warm hand on
Marlene’s back felt distant, too. Everything was dark. Marlene was very cold. She kept her eyes
tightly shut.

“Is she alright?” another distant voice asked, the tone a mix of concern and something worse, like
fear, or a kind of distant revulsion.

Marlene knew that sort of revulsion. She’d never been the one to comfort the bereaved, never been
able to step too close to the people crouched in corners after the fighting had stopped, the people
who’d watched someone die and were so far from being able to handle it. Now, she was that
person.

“Does she look alright, Sturgis?” Lily answered, a snap in her voice.

Marlene wished that she could put her fingers in her ears, wished she could drown out their voices.
They felt so distant, and yet they called her back to her reality. She didn’t want to go. She pressed
her eyelids tighter together, stars appearing before her vision. The image of the body flashed in her
mind’s eye, and she felt a wave of nausea rise up in her. She refused to throw up.

“Marlene,” Lily’s voice came in again, her tone more urgent this time. “Marlene, we have to go.
The Muggle police will be here soon. The Aurors Confunded the Muggles who saw, but we need
to leave before more come. Please.”

“McKinnon,” another voice sounded above her, speaking in Moody’s gruff tones this time. “You
need to get up, now. This is not the time or place for this.”

Marlene felt her bubble growing smaller, felt the voices crowding back in, the sounds growing
clearer around her. She heard the note of panic in Moody’s usual emotionless, businesslike voice.
She tried to push it away, but then there was a hand on her arm, and someone was pulling her to her
feet. She opened her eyes.

The clearing swam into dizzying focus. It was dark, but the wandlight of the few wizards who’d
remained there illuminated it enough for her to see. The body was gone. The blood was gone. In
front of her, Moody’s face was pale in the white wandlight, almost ghostly. Someone had cleaned
the wound in his nose, and Marlene could see the clean chunk of flesh that had been taken from it
as if it’d been scooped cleanly away by a blade. Another wave of nausea rolled over her, and she
gagged.

Lily’s arm tightened around her. “Marlene, are you alright?”

But Marlene didn’t look at her. She just stared at Moody, who stared back at her. His expression
looked less guarded than she thought she’d ever seen it. His eyes were wide, and he looked afraid.
“I killed him?” Marlene choked out, staring at Moody. She wasn’t sure why the phrase had come
out as a question. She’d seen what had happened. He stared back at her for a moment, then nodded
slowly.

“Yes,” he answered her. “Yes, he’s dead. Evan Rosier is dead.”

Marlene nodded, staring at him for a moment, trying to make sense of it. When nothing clicked
into place, she did the next best thing and ran.

Marlene had sprinted out of the clearing in a second, ignoring the yells of those behind her, Lily’s
concerned cry mixing with Sturgis’ surprised shout and Moody’s order to stop. She ignored the
branches that hit her face and the tree roots she stumbled over. She could hear them behind her,
crashing through the underbrush, but she was faster. Adrenaline rushed through her.

Marlene couldn’t remember ever running so fast in her life. Her legs ached, lungs burned, but all
these sensations felt distant to her, somehow. She wasn’t safe. She couldn’t think. She didn’t know
where she was going, but she just ran. She had to get away.

After what could’ve been hours, Marlene tripped, legs going out from under her, and her face fell
onto the forest floor. Twigs and pine needles pressed against her cheek, and she coughed the dirt
from her mouth, her hands going up to wipe her face. When she pulled them back, there was a stain
of red blood on them, and she screamed but covered her mouth quickly to muffle the sound. Not
safe, she thought frantically. Not safe.

She looked around. The forest seemed quiet at last. It seemed that her companions had stopped
chasing her. The trees were foreign to her. They looked nothing like the ones that grew in southern
England, where Dorcas’ family lived, or Gloucestershire, where James’ parents had been. They
were tall and intimidating, looming over her. They felt unfriendly, as if they might attack her, too.

Marlene took a deep breath, then another, counting as she breathed in and out, and the world came
into sharper focus. Flashes of what had happened that night forced themselves into her mind.
Tracking the Death Eaters to the forest. The fight. Moody on the ground, his face covered in blood.
The glint of amusement in Rosier’s ice-blue eyes as he faced her. The look on his face as he fell
after her spell struck him in the chest. She shut her eyes tight again, breathing hard.

She hadn’t meant to kill him. She hadn’t meant to kill him. This she repeated over and over in her
head. Sometimes, in the heat of battle, Marlene acted on instinct, not fully aware of which spells
she was trying to cast as she cast them. The blue-white light that had issued from Marlene’s wand
and struck Evan Rosier in the heart had been unfamiliar to her, and yet, it hadn’t been green, like a
killing curse. Still, it had killed him. He was dead.

Marlene fought the darkness that crowded into her vision and pushed herself to her feet again. She
swayed for a few seconds, then her head cleared. Everything was quiet. She listened for the sounds
of her companions, for more Death Eaters, for the Muggle policeman who would now be searching
the woods for whatever had caused the light that had confused their colleagues. She heard nothing.
She took another moment. Another couple of breaths. Then, she turned on the spot and apparated
away.

The tight, compressing feeling was too much for her again, and when it was over, Marlene
stumbled against the wall outside of her and Dorcas’ flat. She was panting again, her eyes flitting
around, terror crowding her brain. She pushed herself up, trying to pull herself together.

Constant vigilance, she told herself, trying to conjure up Moody’s stern voice in her head. Her
mentor, the brilliant Auror Moody, not the pale-faced wizard she’d last seen in the Suffolk woods
that night. Pull yourself together, McKinnon, the Moody in her head said. What are you, trying to
get yourself killed?

No, she thought, breathing in and out rapidly, trying to calm the pace of her heart. No, I’m not going
to die. Not today.

Marlene rummaged around in her cloak, fumbling, and eventually pulled out her wand. Walking to
the door, she muttered several complex spells under her breath, and, one by one, heard the locks
clicking open behind it. They’d added this new security measure in the last few months, now that
Death Eater attacks were becoming more and more common. Turning the knob, she opened it and
dashed in, trying not to slam it behind her as she hastened to re-lock all the locks. Finished, she
turned and leaned against the door, again trying to catch her breath, and slid to the ground with a
thump. She closed her eyes again, covering them with her hands, her fingers pressing into her eye
sockets, conjuring stars. She hoped they’d crowd out the flashes of what had happened that night.

“Marlene?” she heard a voice in the distance call. It was Dorcas, from their bedroom. Marlene had
woken her. No, no, no, Marlene thought desperately She can’t see me like this. She can’t—

“Marlene!?” Dorcas exclaimed, much closer now, her voice panicked. Marlene blinked her eyes
open again and saw the blurred shape of Dorcas running to her, felt Dorcas’ hands on her. Marlene
shrank away from Dorcas’ touch.

“Don’t,” Marlene said, holding out a hand, and Dorcas released her, taking a few steps back.
Marlene curled into herself, tugging her knees to her torso and scooting into the corner, shaking her
head frantically.

“Don’t, I can’t—” she broke off, a sob escaping her lips in a torn, broken sound. “Please don’t
touch me.”

Dorcas’ eyes widened as they scanned over Marlene, but she stayed where she was, a few feet
away from Marlene. She lowered herself to a crouch and peered at Marlene, concern written all
over her face.

“What happened?” Dorcas asked, her voice quieter now.

Marlene shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut again. She didn’t want to remember. She didn’t
invite the flashes of memory in, but they came nonetheless.

Flashes of light flew through the trees, the Order members and Aurors exchanging curses with the
Death Eaters they’d found in the clearing. Moody and Marlene were dueling one of the masked
men side by side, who dodged their spells lazily. There was a certain grace to his motions that
Marlene resented. It spoke to her of the way that Slytherins had walked through the hallways of
Hogwarts when she’d been a student there: heads high, chins up, their movements smooth. It was
the kind of grace that someone only achieved through mandatory, expensive dance lessons taken
when they’d been a child, which Marlene had always teased Sirius for.

As if to illustrate her point, the Death Eater made one smooth movement, shooting a spell at
Moody with a slash of his wand, and Moody fell back, his hand to his face, groaning and
collapsing on the ground. Marlene could see the blood streaming from his wound and knew it
would add to the streaks of red already covering the pine needles on the ground. Rage surged
through her, and she slashed the air with her wand, covering Moody as she tried to cage the Death
Eater in, stun him, incapacitate him in any way she could. He couldn’t escape, not after this.

He dodged her again, but the spell caught on his mask, which was torn away, revealing Evan
Rosier’s pale, sneering face. His ice-blue eyes gleamed, full of cruelty and amusement.

“McKinnon,” he said, “We meet again.”

“Fuck you,” Marlene managed to grind out through gritted teeth.

He laughed, pushing her back with a shield charm. She almost screamed in frustration and shot
another stunning spell at him, which he dodged. He’s better than me, she realized, her heart
sinking.

“I must say, you haven’t changed at all since Hogwarts,” he went on conversationally, moving his
wand in an almost lazy fashion, their spells flying fast around one another. “Always to be found at
the scene of a crime.”

Marlene dodged the jets of green light he shot at her, her heart beating in her chest and breath
caught in her throat.

“You haven’t changed, either,” she replied, her frustration and fear mounting as he continued to
move smoothly away from each one of her jinxes. “I’d thought that you’d have learned your lesson
a long time ago, but you’re still the same cruel, evil bastard I remembered.”

She shot another spell at him, and his smile turned into a snarl as he had to leap back to dodge it,
so close did it come to his head that his blonde hair was singed on one side.

“Maybe it’s time I taught you a lesson, McKinnon,” he spat out.

Then, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Rosier raised his wand in an arc, and Marlene
ducked, anticipating the blow that hadn’t yet come while she cast her own spell. Arms raised,
words forming on his lips, Rosier hadn’t been prepared for it, and there was a look of surprise and
fear on his face when the burst of blue-white light connected to his chest, striking right over where
his heart should be with a force that made a hollow, blunt sound as it made contact.

Marlene watched as Rosier’s arms fell to his sides, his wand falling out of his limp fingers to the
forest floor. His face had fallen, too, the viciousness all gone, then. Suddenly, the tall boy looked
small, his face appearing young. He looked taken aback, and when he fell, she saw only terror in
his expression before the light left his eyes. Marlene just stood there, her heart pounding, her
nerves on end, braced for another attack that she was sure would come, but didn’t. She expected
him to rise again, to cast another curse at her that she’d have to dodge. Then, after a long moment,
the silence became too loud, and she looked around.

Moody was shoving himself to his feet, the bloody wreck of his nose now visible, as he’d removed
his hand from it. Lily was bent over one of the fallen Aurors, pressing her hands to a wound that
seemed to be bleeding. Sturgis was staring at her. All the other Death Eaters had gone. Marlene
looked down at Evan Rosier’s body as realization came over her.

“No no no no no no no,” she whispered to herself, dropping to the ground, her knees too weak to
hold her weight, and squeezed her eyes tightly closed.

“I killed him,” Marlene said quietly, back in the present moment.

Dorcas’ brown eyes, which had been searching her face from afar, widened. Dorcas blinked
slowly, then took a deep breath.

“What?” she asked, her voice quiet and unreadable.

“I killed him,” Marlene repeated again, her mind spinning. She saw Evan Rosier again, lying on
the ground, his body very still...the look on his face as he’d collapsed, the terror of a young boy,
looking into the unknown ahead… “I killed him.”

“Who did you kill?” Dorcas asked, leaning forward, though she hesitated instead of crossing the
invisible boundary that Marlene had set between them. Her voice was still calm, low and steady,
and Marlene knew that she was trying to balance Marlene’s panic with her stability.

Marlene swallowed down the bile that rose in her throat. “Rosier,” she said blankly. “Evan
Rosier.”

The name, which had once felt like a swear in her mouth, now felt small. It could belong to
anyone. It could be an innocent name for an innocent boy, the one who’d looked scared as he’d
fallen…or it could belong to a monster, as she knew he truly had been.

“You killed Rosier?” Dorcas asked.

Hearing the words on Dorcas’ lips made Marlene flinch back. She couldn’t stand to have Dorcas
look at her, couldn’t stand to be seen at all. She wanted to go away, far away, to disappear, to not
have to think or feel. She wanted to shout at Dorcas for bringing her back to consciousness only to
feel this.

“We tracked some Death Eaters down who were hiding in Rendlesham Forest,” she said slowly,
her eyes not meeting Dorcas’, still trained on the floor. “They put up a fight. Moody and I were
dueling Rosier, then Moody was injured, and it was just us dueling, and I…I—” She broke off,
shaking her head, her throat tightening to prohibit further speech as images flooded her mind again.

“He would’ve killed you,” Dorcas said, her voice low and soothing. “He’s a Death Eater. He was
trying to kill you all.”

“I killed him,” Marlene repeated softly, trying to block out Dorcas’ comforting words.

“Rosier did terrible things before he even left school,” Dorcas said, a slight, pleading note in her
voice now. “He was one of the ones who attacked Mary and that Hufflepuff boy, he tormented me
and countless others, he—”

“I killed him!” Marlene shouted, finally looking up at Dorcas.

Dorcas didn’t flinch back, but her eyes held some of the alarm Marlene knew she must be feeling.
Marlene was glad, at least, that she wasn’t looking at her with the same love in her eyes as before.
Marlene couldn’t stomach being loved, not at the moment.

“He was a person,” Marlene continued softly, looking up at the ceiling. “He was twenty. He had a
life, and I took it. I killed him.”

Dorcas was silent for a long moment. She let out a breath that Marlene hadn’t realized she’d been
holding. She knew Dorcas was staring at her, but she couldn’t bring herself to look back at her
girlfriend and kept her gaze on the ceiling. Marlene’s eyes felt hot, and there was an insistent
pressure behind them, but she hated the thought of shedding tears.

“You killed him,” Dorcas repeated back to her. Her voice shook slightly, and Marlene finally
looked back down at her girlfriend. Dorcas’ gaze was less steady than before, just like her voice,
but she held eye contact, and a terrible sadness seemed to seep from her dark brown eyes as she met
Marlene’s blue ones.
“Yes,” Marlene said, a tear sliding down her cheek, neither gravity nor her desire not to cry able to
keep it from falling anymore. “I killed him.”

It took a half hour for Dorcas to convince Marlene to let her heal her wounds. As it turned out, she
had a gash on her head—the source of the blood on her hands. Dorcas wordlessly held a potion to
her lips, and Marlene took a small swallow without questioning it. It tasted sharp and cold, like
mint. After that, she felt a little hazy. She allowed Dorcas to help her stand up and move to the
couch, where her girlfriend wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.

A while later, Marlene registered a knock on the door, and Dorcas opening it, but she didn’t turn.
Voices sounded behind her—the gruff tones of Moody mixed with Lily’s concerned words—yet
Dorcas answered all their inquiries, and Marlene chose not to face them. The door shut again, and a
few minutes later, Marlene felt Dorcas press a warm mug into her hand. She lifted it to her lips to
drink, and the warm, slightly sweet liquid soothed her.

When she was finished, Dorcas took the cup away, then, very tentatively, wrapped her arms around
Marlene. Marlene flinched at first, then leaned into her, closing her eyes. They didn’t speak—
Marlene wasn’t sure if she was capable of it—but she felt as if she didn’t have anything more she
needed to say to Dorcas. Dorcas had understood her, and that was what Marlene had needed,
anyway. She didn’t fall asleep for a long while, but just let Dorcas hold her like that.

The next thing Marlene knew, the light of morning was shining through the windows, and her
memories of the previous night flooded back in like those of a fever dream. And yet Marlene knew
as she rose, the blanket falling away and squinting in the cold brightness, that she couldn’t pretend
it’d all been a nightmare, as much as she might wish it.

....

The following week, after the New Year had dawned, Marlene was to be found walking down a
snowy street in Galway, side by side with her cousin, Bridget. Snow was rare there, and when
Bridget had reported it in her latest letter, Marlene had found it to be a perfect excuse to visit her
cousin.

“You’ve gotta be joking,” Bridget whined sulkily as they passed yet another closed shop along the
road. “It’s only a bit of snow, and everyone’s closed down for the day!”

“It’s also New Year’s Day,” Marlene pointed out, her mittened hands shoved in her pockets,
smiling at her cousin. “People could just be taking the holiday.”

Bridget turned her head sharply to send Marlene a look, her dark waves flying over her shoulder as
she did so. “Trust you turning up out of the blue to see me on a day where there’s nothing fun
happening,” she chastised. “And after I haven’t seen you in donkey’s years! Rude, Marls.”

Marlene laughed and linked her arm with her cousin’s. “Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t come to go
to a pub. I came to see the snow, and you.”

“That excuse again,” Bridget snorted, walking along beside Marlene as they peered into shop after
shop. “You always have some excuse for your visits, and I always spend half the time teasing the
real reason out of you. What’s going on now?”

“Nothing’s going on,” Marlene replied, peering into a shop window as they passed and avoiding
Bridget’s piercing blue gaze. “I’ve just been up to ninety these last few months, and I had some
time off, so I thought I’d visit you.”
“Why’ve you got time off?” Bridget asked discerningly. Marlene glanced at her and found her
eyebrows raised. She sighed and shook her head. Because I killed someone and Moody’s concerned
that I’m not handling it well, so the Senior Aurors want to make sure I’m not going to have a
mental breakdown before sending me back into the field, she answered internally. But out loud, she
said:

“Leave it, Bridge. I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

Bridget shrugged, gazing at her curiously. “You always do in the end,” she said, but she let the
subject drop for the moment.

They walked through the snowy road for a while, and when Bridget confirmed that all the shops
were indeed closed she took Marlene to see her new flat, which she’d moved into a few months
previously, finally moving out of her mam’s and dad’s place in the country. It sat above a pub
where she worked, which was also closed that day. The flat was small and a bit cluttered, but
Marlene liked it. Bridget threw her bag down onto the sofa and plopped down beside it.

“Nora’s out with her boyfriend, I expect,” she said carelessly, gesturing to the closed door on the
other side of the sitting room. Her roommate, Nora, was another of Marlene’s and Bridget’s
cousins, but a few years older than both. Marlene had never been close with her, though she knew
that Bridget was, as they’d both grown up in Ireland together.

“I didn’t realize she was dating anyone,” Marlene commented, sitting down beside Bridget.

“Oh, they’ve been together for more than a year,” Bridget said. “She’s over at his place every
spare moment she’s got.”

“Do you like him?”

“He’s an Englishman,” Bridget said, making a face. “But other than that he’s great craic. He lives
in Dublin.”

“Is he a wizard?” Marlene asked, wondering how Nora could sustain a relationship with someone
who lived so far away.

“Yeah,” Bridget said, unconcernedly picking at her cuticles. “He went to Hogwarts.”

“What’s his name?” Marlene asked, wondering if she’d remember him from her school days.

“Michael,” Bridget returned, shrugging. She looked up at Marlene, her mouth pulling into an
amused half-smile that showed off her slightly crooked teeth. “Michael Boot.” She snorted as if in
amusement at the absurd name. Marlene grinned.

“He was the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain for a year,” she said. “I remember that he was a good
one.” Bridget gave another shrug as if she couldn’t care less, and Marlene smiled.

“How are you, then?” Marlene asked, turning fully to face her cousin. “Do you like living here,
away from the family?”

“I like it here,” Bridget confirmed. “I still visit home all the time, but it’s nice being on my own.
Nice for me and Nora finally having some freedom. Mam was driving me mental last year. It was
time.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Marlene commiserated. “She’s still going on about all the war stuff, yeah?”
“As much as ever,” Bridget returned, nodding. “She thinks I should keep my head down and stay
out of it all. I’m not sure who she thinks she raised if she believes I’ll really do that.” She smiled
slightly at Marlene. “How’s your mam about it?”

“She’s worried for me,” Marlene admitted. “But she believes what my dad believes in, and he's
been outspoken against blood purists for years, so she doesn't go on about it much. She knows that
they raised me to fight.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot your dad makes speeches and all that,” Bridget said. “I bet you lot are targets
anyway, then. Not much you can do that’ll make it worse at all.”

Marlene’s heart sank, and her face must’ve fallen, too, because Bridget’s gaze upon her became
studious again. “What’s up, Marls?” she asked, her head tilting slightly to one side. “You never
come here without a reason.”

“You make me sound like a bad cousin,” Marlene said, giving her a weak smile. Bridget smiled
back and shrugged.

“Maybe one day, when this is all over, I’ll find out if you’ll come see me when there isn’t a crisis
going on,” she said lightly. “But I won’t lie and say it doesn’t feel nice being needed, anyway.”

Marlene knew she was right. The last time she’d visited Galway had been in September after she’d
learned the news of Sam Thomas’ death and spoken to Florence and Marcus for the first time in
years. The time before that had been when James’ parents had died. In 1979, Marlene had visited
after she’d let Regulus Black go during an Order mission. After each occurrence, she’d wanted to
do nothing more than talk to her cousin.

So she told Bridget what had happened the previous week, of the fight in the forest. She told her all
about Evan Rosier, whom everyone had hated in school and yet who she now wished hadn’t died
by her hand at all. She told Bridget about how she couldn’t get the look on his face as he’d fallen
out of her mind, how she woke up from nightmares about it, screaming. How Dearborn, at
Moody’s suggestion, had given her the week off from training at the Auror office, and how Moody
had looked at her when he’d informed her of it the previous week, his eyes watchful and cautious,
as though she might break. Bridget didn’t interrupt as Marlene told the story, she just listened.

When Marlene finished her story, Bridget continued to watch her silently for a long moment. Her
eyes, which were just one shade darker blue than Marlene’s, didn’t pierce her as they’d done before
but felt gentle. When she finally spoke, she simply asked: “Do you think you did the wrong thing?”

Marlene had to think about the question for a moment, but after a pause, she shook her head. “I
didn’t mean to kill him,” she said slowly. “I don’t really know what happened. But I also know that
he was trying to kill me. He would’ve killed all of us if he could. I stopped him from killing anyone
else. I know I saved lives.”

Bridget nodded. “I think you did the right thing, too,” she said. “We’re fighting in a war, after all.
Taking a life isn’t pleasant, or easy, but sometimes it’s how we save more lives.”

“I think our mams were raised to believe that taking a life is a sin, no matter the reason,” Marlene
said, her voice quiet, eyes downcast. Bridget made a soft tutting noise in the back of her throat.

“And yet saving lives is the opposite, isn’t it, because life is precious? If you save someone’s life,
isn’t that a good deed?” she asked, her eyebrows raised. She shook her head slightly. “Sometimes I
think God hasn’t made up his mind about some things, either. After all, so many wars have been
fought over him and so many people have been killed in his name. Who can say what he supports
and what he condemns?”

“Do you think that you could kill someone?” Marlene asked Bridget, searching her face for
something that might make her feel better about herself.

Bridget hesitated, then nodded. “I think everyone could,” she said after a moment. “I don’t think
killing is something that’s inherently good or bad, Marls. It’s just something that happens. The
morality of it depends on the intention and the outcome.”

“But do you think you’d feel bad about it?” Marlene pressed.

Bridget shrugged. “I don’t really know,” she admitted. “I don’t think I’ll ever know unless I’ve got
to kill somebody someday. But I think it’s normal that you’re feeling what you’re feeling, even
though you know that you didn’t do anything wrong. Maybe bearing the guilt is the sacrifice you
had to make so you could save the lives you did.”

“I don’t want to be a martyr,” Marlene replied, her heart sinking. “I didn’t realize how much I
didn’t want to kill until now, but I don’t want to do it again. Maybe that makes me a coward, but
—”

“Oh, Marls,” Bridget interrupted, rolling her eyes, the ghost of a smile on her face. “Why are you
always so focused on bravery and cowardice? That’s what it’s always been for you, ever since we
were kids. Too proud to show you were ever even a little bit scared.”

Marlene opened her mouth to protest, her affront at Bridget’s teasing replacing some of her dark
thoughts.

“You’re a good person, Marls,” Bridget pressed on, reaching over to give Marlene’s shoulder a
slight nudge and grinning. “You don’t need to be brave all the time for that to be true. You don’t
even have to be good all the time for that to be true. Lord knows I’m not.”

Marlene sighed. She wanted to believe Bridget. Still, she thought that a little bit of her would
always hate herself whenever she remembered the moment when Rosier had fallen, and the look on
his face as he’d done so. Perhaps Bridget was right, and it was just her cross to bear.

“How’s Dorcas?” Bridget asked, a special note in her voice that told Marlene that what she was
really asking was: What does Dorcas have to say about this? Marlene gave a small smile and chose
to answer Bridget’s direct question rather than her indirect one.

“She’s good,” she said. “As good as we all are, these days.”

“You should bring her with you the next time you visit,” Bridget said, leaning back and giving
Marlene a teasing smile. “I miss your better half.”

Marlene rolled her eyes but smiled. Despite all the years that she and Dorcas had been best friends
before they’d ever been a couple, Dorcas hadn’t visited Ireland nor met Marlene’s extended family
until the previous year. When she’d come to meet them, she’d been introduced as Marlene’s friend,
but Bridget was one of the few that had been privy to the whole truth. Marlene well remembered
telling her, the summer after Hogwarts. Bridget had been flummoxed at first, her mouth falling
open as she stared at Marlene in unapologetic shock. It hadn’t taken her long to come around,
however, and her first meeting with Dorcas, after so many years of hearing stories about her, had
quieted any last misgivings in Bridget’s mind.

According to Bridget, everyone in the family was aware, deep down, of what Marlene and Dorcas
were to each other. Bridget’s mother—Imogen McKinnon’s older sister—had never asked Bridget
about it explicitly, she said, nor had she asked Imogen, but Bridget had noticed a certain thoughtful
look on Niamh’s face when Dorcas had come to meet the family while watching the two together.
Marlene thought that perhaps Bridget was right, remembering the way that her grandmother had
risen from her chair and clasped Dorcas’ hand in both of her own rather than shaking it, smiling at
her all the while. Her own mother’s nervous expression in the background had dissolved upon
seeing the warm greeting, and Marlene had been sure for a moment that her Maimeó had known
exactly what this moment meant to Marlene as her blue eyes had sparkled at her from across the
room.

“How’s Tyler?” Bridget asked Marlene, breaking her out of her recollections.

“Doing well, from what he’s said,” Marlene replied. Her younger brother barely ever wrote to her
from Hogwarts, but she’d just seen him for Christmas. “He’s about as tall as me, now. It’s very
annoying.”

“I can imagine,” Bridget replied with a snort of laughter. “I don’t wanna think about how annoying
Tierney will be when she gets taller. Lord forbid she surpasses me since I’d never hear the end of it
then.”

“What about Kieran?” Marlene asked. “You don’t worry that he’ll be taller than you?”

“I already know he will be,” Bridget said, letting out a rather dejected huff. “But he’s not as much
of a menace as Tier is. All he does is fly around on your old broomstick you gave him. Though
he’s started saying that he’s gonna become a professional Quidditch player, so I guess he’s still got
time to become unbearable.”

Marlene smiled as she thought of her cousins, fifteen-year-old Kieran and little eleven-year-old
Tierney. Marlene had always been closest to Bridget, of course, as they were the same age, but
she’d always felt like she adopted those two as two more younger siblings whenever she visited her
family in Ireland.

“You really should come visit more often,” Bridget said, and Marlene realized she’d been studying
her face and the small smile that had appeared there. “It might be good for you,” Bridget
continued. “And I know the family would love seeing you. They miss you.” The unspoken I miss
you , lay just under Bridget’s words, shining out from her blue eyes, and Marlene reached over and
gave her hand a squeeze.

“I’ll try to come more often,” she promised, feeling a little heartsick at the hollow words.

She looked out the window of Bridget’s flat toward the street, the snow already melting on the
sidewalk. This place still felt important to her, and always had. It wasn’t just Bridget that made
Marlene come running here every time she was in a crisis: it was Ireland, too. She liked the feeling
she got here, like she was coming home.

Marlene couldn’t imagine how her parents had torn themselves away from Ireland when they’d
moved to England. She sometimes saw a familiar longing in her mother’s eyes when she’d turn and
take one last look at the house she’d grown up in, and at the Irish countryside, before disapparating
back to England. Perhaps Marlene would move there one day when she and Dorcas were older and
this whole war was a distant memory. Perhaps one day, they’d find somewhere in the countryside
here that would satisfy both of their desires for open space, and Marlene would return home from
her days at the Ministry to a house with a backyard full of wildflowers and few worries. They could
go over to her Maimeó’s house for dinner on the weekends, and she could see her cousins
whenever she pleased. She could watch Tierney, her youngest cousin, grow up, and help teach her
magic alongside the rest of her family.
When they were older, her cousins might have children, and Marlene would be there for all of it.
Perhaps Marlene and Dorcas would start a family, too—she didn’t know how that sort of thing was
done, but she was sure they could find a way if they both wanted to. There were so many
possibilities, Marlene thought as she stared out of the window. So very many things could happen
in the years ahead of her. She tried to remember that even as she was filled with leaden dread, the
sort of anxiety that felt like prophecy and made her wonder whether she’d ever see any of her
dreams come to pass.

....

On Monday morning, Marlene returned to training in the Auror Headquarters. Now, almost a year
after Sirius had quit, Marlene had grown used to facing the place on her own. She’d made friends
there among her fellow trainees and the older Aurors alike, but on this morning, she felt as if she
was entering for the first time again after her seventh year at Hogwarts, and wished she wasn’t
alone.

When she stepped into the office, Alice looked up from her desk and gave Marlene a smile.
“Welcome back,” she said. “How was your New Year?”

“Good, nothing special,” Marlene returned, moving over toward her and giving her a grin only
slightly tinged with nerves. “Anything going on today?”

Alice shrugged, glancing back down at the papers in front of her. “Nothing really,” she said. “I’ll
probably spend my day with boring paperwork unless we get any urgent calls.” Alice and Frank
had both finished their Auror training the previous fall and been promoted to full Aurors. Marlene
envied the freedom Alice had to go on missions on her own, but she supposed having to do all her
own paperwork was a drawback.

“Oh,” Alice said, sitting up straighter as if suddenly remembering something. “Moody wants to see
you in his office. He told me to let you know if I spotted you.”

“Oh,” Marlene replied, a sinking feeling creeping into her stomach. “Okay, thanks, Alice.”

“No problem!” Alice returned, giving her a sympathetic smile. “Good luck.”

Marlene waved goodbye to Alice as she made her way toward Moody’s office, glancing at the
Aurors that she passed on the way. They all seemed a little groggy this morning, doing nothing
more than pouring over newspaper clippings or forms while sipping their coffee. She took a deep
breath and knocked on the door of Moody’s office. After a moment, a voice inside told her to enter,
and she did so, closing the door quickly behind her.

Moody was sitting behind his desk when she entered, his eyes drifting over what looked like a
report, but when the door closed behind her with a snap, he glanced up. His nose looked fully
healed, now, but there had been no growing back the chunk of flesh removed there, and Marlene
tried not to stare at it, the gap prominent under the fluorescent lights.

“McKinnon,” he acknowledged her, setting his report down and waving her towards one of the
seats in front of his desk. “Sit, please.”

Marlene sat obediently, the chair legs scraping a little on the floor as she did so. She clasped her
hands in her lap, then unclasped them, avoiding Moody’s gaze.

“Alice said that you wanted to talk to me,” she said after a moment of him studying her.

“I do,” he replied. His dark brown eyes regarded her piercingly, and Marlene looked away again.
 She shifted slightly in her seat, her hands going to grip the sides of her chair, trying to keep herself
from fidgeting. Moody cleared his throat and continued.

“I know that you think I gave you the week off last week because I didn’t trust you after what
happened in the forest that night,” he began, his voice gruff. Marlene still didn’t meet his eyes and
instead fixed her gaze on the filing cabinet behind his head. “But you should know that that’s not
why I did it. I do trust you. You’ll make a great Auror, McKinnon. I have no doubt about that.”

Marlene’s eyes snapped to his in surprise, her posture straightening slightly, sitting up taller in the
chair. He raised his eyebrows at her, obviously registering the change in her demeanor.

“Why’d you do it, then?” Marlene asked. Moody gave a small shrug.

“Taking a life isn’t an easy thing to cope with, even for the strongest of wizards,” he said. “Even
when you know you did the right thing, even when you know that you weren’t at fault, it can be
difficult to process. I’ve seen the same thing that happened to you that night happen to many
Aurors in my time here. I thought you might need some time to deal with it.”

Marlene stared at him. “Has it ever happened to you?” she asked quietly.

Moody regarded her silently for a few moments as if deciding how much he wanted to tell her, then
gave a slow nod of assent.

“I’ve killed two people in my twenty-four years working as an Auror,” he said. “Robert Wilkes
was the second.”

Marlene recalled suddenly that it’d been Dearborn who’d informed the Order of Wilkes’ death that
night when they’d captured him and Karkaroff. Moody had been stone-faced by Dearborn’s side
that night, but his office had been conspicuously empty every day during the following week when
Marlene had turned up for training. Marlene wondered who the first person Moody had killed as an
Auror was, but didn’t ask.

“There are people whom death doesn’t affect, and those who it does,” Moody continued. “Some of
us can’t see the look on a dying person’s face and have it matter who they are or what they’ve done
if it’s us who caused their death. Personally, I don’t see that as a weakness. So if you tell me you’re
ready now to get back to training, I trust you to do so.”

Marlene took a deep breath. Rosier’s face flashed before her vision again, his eyes glinting with
fear as he fell. She let out her breath slowly and allowed her gaze to refocus upon Moody’s face.
She nodded.

“I’m ready,” she said, her voice steady.

“Good,” Moody said, giving her a short nod. “One more thing,” He paused for a moment, leaning
back in his chair as he regarded her.

“Thank you,” he said finally. “For saving my life that night.”

Marlene didn’t know how to respond to that, so she just nodded. Moody waved his hand toward the
door, indicating that she was free to go, and she rose to her feet and left, casting one last curious
look behind at him as she did so. Perhaps there was always more to learn about people.

Chapter End Notes

I had a random inspiration to make Kieran Connolly be interested in Quidditch
because my thought is that he later goes on to become the "Connolly" who plays on
the Irish International Quidditch team in the 1994 Quidditch World Cup, and just the
thought that he got interested in Quidditch because of Marlene and learned to play on
her old broom brought me to literal tears.

Google the Rendlesham Forest Incident if you’re bored :) A lot of the Death Eater
attacks I’ve mentioned before in this fic have been connected to real-world events
because I think it’s unrealistic that there wouldn’t be records of them, but this one was
by far the funniest.

Sorry for the lack of a chapter last weekend! My computer went kaput so I had to get a
new one, and I was dealing with fucked up family stuff. I think I’ve been writing more
slowly the closer I get to having to kill off my favorite characters, too :( oh well...
Hope you enjoyed the chapter!
 1981: Permanent
Chapter Notes

cw: non-major character death

Valentine’s Day dawned cold over London, mist clinging to the outside of the windows of Dorcas
and Marlene’s flat when Dorcas awoke that morning. She stretched luxuriously, glancing over at
the alarm clock on the side table. It was eight o’clock. She smiled. On this day, Dorcas could stay
in bed as long as she liked, as she had the day off from the hospital. The other side of the bed was
empty, and Dorcas knew that Marlene must’ve gone out early for a walk and not wanted to disturb
her. When she rolled over, she saw that there was a single daisy laying on Marlene’s pillow, and
grinned. Even in winter, when there were no flowers to be seen, Marlene would sometimes conjure
daisies for Dorcas, knowing they were her favorite.

Dorcas pushed herself into an upright position and let the covers fall off her. She shivered slightly
in the chill morning air. It’d be a cold day that day, she predicted, and the grey light filtering
through the curtains told her that the sun was unlikely to make an appearance at all. Still, Dorcas
didn’t mind, as she didn’t particularly want to leave their flat at all that day.

Dorcas swung her legs out of bed and slipped her bare feet into her slippers before standing up. She
leaned down to grab the daisy and carried it with her to the kitchen, filling a small jar with water
and balancing the flower in it. Dorcas smiled down at it for another moment before starting to
make breakfast for herself.

Marlene returned just as Dorcas finished eating. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold and her
freckles stood out more than ever. Her long, wavy blonde hair looked a little windswept, and she
beamed at Dorcas as she closed the door behind her.

“Morning, love,” she said, moving over to where Dorcas was sitting at the counter and leaning
down to kiss her.

“Good morning,” Dorcas replied, smiling as Marlene pulled back. “How’s the outside world?”

“Quiet and cold,” Marlene said, grinning. “I take it you won’t be venturing out there today?”

“Not if I can help it,” Dorcas replied, stretching and standing to wash her dishes. She cast a
mischievous smile over her shoulder at Marlene. “I hope you won’t be leaving either.”

Marlene grinned, walking up behind Dorcas to wrap her arms around her waist. “I have absolutely
no plans to do that,” she said softly into Dorcas’ ear, breath warm against her skin. Dorcas shivered
slightly.

“Nothing from the Order?” she asked, glancing back at Marlene to confirm.

The last six months had been so full of Death Eater attacks that Dorcas felt always on alert, but she
hoped that nothing would bother them today. She just wanted one day without worry. One day
when nothing from the outside world would intrude on their happiness. One day to pretend that
everything was fine.
“Nothing yet,” Marlene confirmed.

“And James and Lily don’t need us to babysit Harry, do they?” Dorcas asked. “I remember Lily
saying that they wanted to do something for their anniversary.”

“Sirius and Remus are babysitting for them,” Marlene replied, leaning down to press a kiss to the
exposed skin on Dorcas’ neck. Dorcas shivered once more and smiled.

“Good,” she breathed. Her movements had slowed as she cleaned her pan, but she redoubled them,
placing it on the dish rack before turning to face Marlene. As she turned, Marlene didn’t let go of
her waist, and her blue eyes twinkled down at Dorcas in a way that made Dorcas’ knees weak.
Dorcas raised an eyebrow at her, and Marlene grinned mischievously.

“Kiss me,” Marlene demanded, her voice teasing.

Dorcas huffed out a noise between a snort of annoyance and a laugh, and pushed herself up onto
her tiptoes, trying to match her girlfriend’s height as she leaned up to press her lips to Marlene’s.
Marlene held back, teasing Dorcas with featherlight pressure as she kissed her, and Dorcas made a
sound of frustration in her throat.

“Yes?” Marlene asked, pulling back, her voice filled with amusement. “Is there a problem?”

“You’re such an arse,” Dorcas replied, sending Marlene a playful glare.

Marlene laughed. “I thought you liked my arse,” she replied, fingers flexing slightly on either side
of Dorcas’ waist even as she continued to tease her by holding her head a little too high for Dorcas
to kiss her properly.

“I do,” Dorcas said, rolling her eyes and smiling. “Now shut up and come down here.”

“Come up here,” Marlene countered, giving her another teasing half-smile.

Just as Dorcas was about to retort, however, Marlene’s hands dipped to Dorcas’ hips and lifted her
from the ground. Dorcas let out a noise of surprise as Marlene lifted her up, but she moved
automatically, her legs parting to wrap around Marlene’s waist as Marlene supported her weight.
Now, Dorcas’s face was a little higher than Marlene’s, and Marlene smiled at her.

“Perfect,” she said softly, leaning closer to kiss her properly for the first time.

Dorcas sighed into the kiss, draping her arms over Marlene’s shoulders and intertwining them
behind her neck as Marlene held her up by the hips, her grip tight in a way that Dorcas secretly
hoped might leave marks behind.

Dorcas’ lips parted, and she let out a slight gasp of surprise when Marlene moved them out of the
kitchen and pressed Dorcas’ back against the sitting room wall, caging her in. She felt Marlene
smile as she reconnected their lips, Dorcas’ still parted, allowing Marlene to slip her tongue in.
Dorcas responded enthusiastically, her hands going to muss Marlene’s hair and tug lightly in a
request that only Marlene would understand. Marlene let out a soft laugh against Dorcas’ lips, then
moved away, nudging her way under Dorcas’ chin to begin kissing down Dorcas’ neck.

Dorcas let out a breathy sound as Marlene quickly located her favorite spot, sucking a mark there
that would probably be lost in Dorcas’ dark skin to the naked eye, though Dorcas sometimes
secretly wished that others might still notice. Of course, Dorcas knew all the reasons why people
on the street and at work shouldn’t know that she was in a relationship, why it wouldn’t be a good
idea for them to start asking questions that Dorcas would have to lie in answer to, but the rational
part of her brain had left the building, and right then she just wanted something to prove that she
was Marlene’s, and Marlene was hers.

Marlene let out a slight noise of frustration that meant she was clearly beginning to find the
position limiting, unable to move as low as she wanted, and before Dorcas knew it, her back was
no longer against the drywall and she was being carried back to the bedroom. Marlene lay her on
the bed carefully, crawling over her with a wicked little smile that Dorcas knew well but never got
tired of.

Marlene tugged experimentally on the hem of Dorcas’ shirt as a question, and Dorcas nodded
eagerly. Marlene tugged it up, pulling it free over Dorcas’ head with her girlfriend’s help and
leaving her bare. Marlene lowered her lips to Dorcas’ collarbone, pressing a kiss to it before
moving down lower, her eyes drifting up to fix on Dorcas’ face as she did so, watching for her
reaction. Dorcas held her gaze, taking in the sight below her as her breath came out audibly.
Marlene smiled, then lowered her mouth again, and Dorcas had to close her eyes as she tilted her
head back and her lips parted in a silent plea.

....

Hours later, Marlene and Dorcas had cocooned themselves back in their bed together, blankets
around them. Marlene sat in her sports bra and a pair of shorts, hair mussed as she read a long letter
she’d received from her cousin, Bridget, several days ago. Dorcas lay on her stomach next to her,
wearing Marlene’s discarded t-shirt and re-reading one of her favorite novels.

Dorcas looked up at Marlene once in a while, watching her expressions change from seriousness to
amusement to exasperation as she read whatever Bridget had written her. Sometimes, she’d share
some of the most entertaining news or comments with Dorcas.

“Did I tell you about my cousin, Nora, and Michael Boot?” she asked, looking over at Dorcas.
Dorcas looked up from her book, thought for a moment, then nodded.

“You said they were dating,” she said.

“Well, she’s knocked up,” Marlene said, seemingly delighted at the bit of gossip. “She just told the
family, and they’re demanding that the two of them get married.”

“Are they going to?” Dorcas asked, looking up in surprise. Marlene grinned wider and shook her
head.

“According to Bridget, Nora told them that she and Michael aren’t going to rush their relationship
just because the family disapproves of having a child out of wedlock.”

“Scandalous,” Dorcas said, smiling at Marlene’s obvious enjoyment of her cousin’s rebelliousness.
Marlene beamed at her, then turned back to the letter, and Dorcas returned to her book. The end of
the novel was in sight, filling her with equal amounts of anticipation and dread.

“Listen to this one,” Marlene interrupted again, shaking her head in exasperation and amusement.
“‘Tierney’s started to speak English back to mam and dad whenever they speak Irish to her. It
might be a better show of rebellion if her English was better. Though it’s still a tad more
intelligible than your Irish.’” She glanced up at Dorcas and laughed, rolling her eyes. “I swear,
Bridget finds some way to insult my Irish every time she writes. It’s impressive.”

Dorcas smiled. “Classic Bridget,” she said fondly. “Tierney sounds like you at that age.”

Marlene laughed but didn’t deny it, only set her letter aside on the bedside table and stretched.
“How’s Bridget doing, then?” Dorcas asked, eyes still on the pages of her book, though she was
also half-paying attention to Marlene.

“She’s doing fine,” Marlene replied, shrugging. “Up and down. She’s told me about some bloke
she works with that she says might be the dumbest person she’s ever met, but it’s obvious she’s
into him. And…you know,” she paused, shrugging again and looking at Dorcas. “She’s fighting,”
Marlene finished.

Dorcas nodded, looking up to meet Marlene’s gaze for a brief moment. It’d been their agreement
for the day not to talk about the war, but she knew that Bridget’s letter must contain some news of
it. Bridget had never attended Hogwarts, never been asked to join the Order of the Phoenix, or—as
far as Dorcas knew—wanted to be. And yet, she’d found herself caught up in the war, too, as all of
them were these days. Dorcas’ didn’t know the details of Bridget’s involvement, but she knew that
she was part of a group of Irish witches and wizards fighting the Death Eaters. From what Marlene
had told her, Dorcas guessed that it wasn’t unlike the group Florence and Marcus were a part of in
that it was comprised mostly of young people looking to gather information and respond to reports
of Death Eater activity in their area.

Marlene looked down at Dorcas and tilted her head to read the title of her book. “Summer Will
Show,” she read aloud. “by Sylvia Townsend Warner.” She glanced up at Dorcas. “Is it a Muggle
novel, or magical?”

“It’s an old Muggle novel,” Dorcas replied. “Clearly gay, but literary critics and historians are
idiots.”

Marlene cackled with laughter. “Obviously. Well, what’s it about?”

“A woman and her lover, who was her ex-husband’s ex-mistress.”

“I love it already,” Marlene said, smiling.

“Yes, well, it’s actually a tragedy,” Dorcas said. “It’s complicated, but they’re involved in a
revolution by the end, and the main character, Sophia, watches her lover get murdered in front of
her.”

A crease formed between Marlene’s eyebrows, her smile faltering. “What happens then?”

Dorcas shrugged. “She sort of loses her will to live. But then she finds purpose in fighting for the
cause her lover died for.”

Marlene nodded, though she still looked a bit troubled. “It sounds like a good book.”

“I love it,” Dorcas replied. “I read it for the first time when we were fifteen. It does have quite a lot
of offensive nineteenth-century language in it, though.”

Marlene wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want to know,” she said. She watched Dorcas as she read a few
more pages, a thoughtful expression on her face. “What made you want to re-read it now?”

Dorcas shrugged. “I don’t really know,” she said. “I just saw it on my bookshelf one day and found
myself really wanting to read it again.”

“Hmm,” Marlene hummed contemplatively, then she reached over and pulled the book out of
Dorcas’ grasp.

“Hey!” Dorcas exclaimed, reaching up for the book, where Marlene held it just out of her reach.
She pouted. “I can’t finish my book?”

“No,” Marlene declared, shaking her head decisively and throwing it across the room. It fell onto a
pile of clean laundry that Dorcas hadn’t gotten around to putting away yet, and Dorcas looked over
at it disappointedly.

“Pay attention to me instead,” Marlene demanded, scooting down so that she was laying next to
Dorcas on the bed. Dorcas rolled her eyes but smiled.

“Aren’t you going to write Bridget back?” she asked.

Marlene shook her head. “Nope,” she said, wrapping her arms around Dorcas. “She can wait
another day for my reply.”

“And you couldn’t wait another minute for me to finish my chapter?” Dorcas asked, raising her
eyebrows, her tone playful. Marlene grinned and shook her head. Dorcas laughed.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, leaning up to kiss her. Marlene kissed her back slowly, then pulled
away and grinned.

“You love me for it,” she said. Dorcas shrugged, but couldn’t conceal her smile.

“What can I say? I have a soft spot for immature prats.”

Marlene laughed and began to tickle Dorcas, causing her to dissolve into helpless giggles.

“Stop!” Dorcas choked out through peals of laughter, trying to wriggle out of Marlene’s reach.

“Not until you say that you love me,” Marlene replied, not ceasing her efforts, a wide smile on her
face. “And that you think I’m the most mature person you know!”

“I love you,” Dorcas replied quickly, though stubbornness still kept her from saying the rest.

“And?” Marlene asked, dragging out the word teasingly as her fingers trailed up and down Dorcas’
sides, making her shriek.

“And you are so, so mature,” Dorcas panted out, trying to shield herself from Marlene’s hands.
“The most mature person in the world. More than Dumbledore. I’ve never met anyone so mature as
you.”

“I know,” Marlene said, ceasing her tickling, grinning, and lying back down, one arm folding
behind her head. Dorcas narrowed her eyes at her.

“It’s so unfair that you aren’t ticklish,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yeah, you’ve only told me about a hundred times,” Marlene replied, her voice full of satisfaction.
“It’s just a cross you have to bear, I’m afraid.”

“You are so—” Dorcas began, shaking her head in exasperation and amusement.

“Mature? I know.” Marlene smirked.

Dorcas sighed and smiled. “Harry could give you lessons,” she said.

Marlene grinned. “Maybe on cuteness,” she said. “But not much else.”
“True,” Dorcas said, smiling. “Harry is way, way cuter than you.”

Marlene laughed. “I won’t tickle you for that only because it’s true,” she said. “He may be the
cutest baby ever to exist.”

“He’s going to look just like James when he grows up,” Dorcas said fondly, settling herself back
down on the bed, as the danger seemed to have passed. “Except for his green eyes, he’s the spitting
image.”

Marlene shared her smile, her expression affectionate as she thought of Harry. Both Dorcas and
Marlene doted on him and had spent every moment they could with him since he’d been born. Lily
and James certainly had no shortage of babysitters. Dorcas thought fondly about how good
Marlene was with Harry. She’d always known Marlene to be good with children, of course. After
all, Tyler was five years younger than her, and she had plenty of younger cousins that she’d taken
care of and entertained in her teens. Still, it was endearing, and sometimes Dorcas felt a bit wistful
when she saw Marlene play peek-a-boo with Harry, or cradle him in her arms. As a child, Dorcas
had always loved playing with dolls—loved the idea of having a baby someday. But how could
she, now?

As if she was reading Dorcas’ mind, Marlene turned to look at her and smiled mischievously. “If
we had a baby...what would it look like?” she asked.

“Come on, you know that’s not possible,” Dorcas replied, though her heart ached slightly in saying
it.

“We live in a magical world, Dee. Who’s to say it’s not?” Marlene asked, giving Dorcas a slight,
quizzical smile.

“People don’t spend their time researching that, Marley,” Dorcas dismissed, shaking her head
tiredly. She didn’t want to think about things that couldn’t happen. Perhaps she just wasn’t strong
enough.

“Well, then, what if we had a joint kid with Remus and Sirius? Turkey baster style, of course,”
Marlene proposed.

Dorcas’ eyebrows lifted so high that she thought they might be lost in her hairline, and let out an
incredulous laugh. She wasn’t sure how Marlene had said the words “turkey baster style” while
holding a straight face.

“A communal child?” she asked, still giggling.

“Yeah, of course,” Marlene replied, her grin widening now that she’d gotten Dorcas to smile. “I
mean, it’d be half the work that we’d normally have to put into a child, so less responsibility, right?
Half a child seems more doable than a whole one.”

Dorcas rolled her eyes and shoved Marlene playfully. “And who’d be the one to give birth to this
hypothetical baby? Me, I suppose,” she said, but while her tone was joking, she was still smiling.

“Only if you wanted,” Marlene said, beaming at her. She leaned over and brushed a curl from
Dorcas’ eyes. “If you did, I’d know our child would be beautiful.”

Dorcas blushed. Something about Marlene calling her beautiful, even though Dorcas had always
known it, still made her feel warm inside. “I suppose if beauty is the goal, Sirius will insist on
being the biological father.”
“What, you don’t think that Remus is handsome?” Marlene asked, raising her eyebrows teasingly.

Dorcas rolled her eyes once more. The question was all the more ludicrous given the fact that
Marlene had spent the better part of their sixth year at Hogwarts sleeping with Sirius.

“Not like Sirius, and you know that,” she said, shaking her head in amusement.

“Well, I think Remus should be the biological father. Less inbred DNA,” Marlene said
thoughtfully, and Dorcas burst into laughter at the casual statement. “Anyway,” Marlene continued.
“The kid will already have Sirius and me for parents. Having an inborn troublemaking nature as
well might be a bit much.”

“And Remus doesn’t have an inborn troublemaking nature?” Dorcas demanded, catching her breath
from laughing too hard.

“He knows how to get away with it, though,” Marlene explained intently. “Intelligence from the
both of you will only benefit the child in its schemes.”

“I suppose that’s a good point,” Dorcas said, grinning at Marlene, her cheeks feeling warm and
laughter still bubbling under the surface. “Though I’m not sure that you have a real grasp on how
genetics work.”

“So it’s decided,” Marlene declared, smiling and ignoring Dorcas’ quip.

Dorcas laughed. “And I suppose we’re not going to consult them?”

Marlene smiled. “No need,” she said. “I’ll get them on the same page when the time comes.”

Dorcas laughed again. It was hope. Plans that might never happen, a future that might never come.
And yet, she clung to it.

“You’ve thought about this before,” Dorcas said, the realization dawning over her as she looked at
Marlene’s smiling face.

Marlene blushed and shrugged. Dorcas always loved the way that Marlene’s freckles stood out
when she blushed, and her eyes grew extra bright. She looked like a painting. Like Dorcas’ favorite
painting in the world, which she could stare at for hours.

“Yeah,” Marlene admitted a little sheepishly, her joking and casual air vanishing. “I’ve thought
about this a lot recently. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Then we’ll have done
everything together, our whole lives.”

“Except from birth to age three,” Dorcas pointed out.

“Who cares about those years?” Marlene replied, smiling again. “I can’t remember them. In my
memory, you were always a part of my life, and I never want to not have you in my life.”

There was a short pause, where Dorcas stared at Marlene. Was Marlene saying what Dorcas
thought she was saying? All this talk of babies and their lives ahead of them…where was it coming
from?

“Are you proposing to me, Marley?” Dorcas asked quietly, forcing a note of amusement into her
voice, though she didn’t think the suggestion was funny at all.

Marlene’s smile turned a little melancholy, and she shrugged, her hand going to cup Dorcas’ face,
thumb brushing along her cheekbone.

“In a manner of speaking, I suppose I am,” she admitted. “I know we can’t really get married, but I
guess I want to make you some kind of promise. To stay for whatever: richer, poorer, sickness,
health...I just want to promise you that we’re not temporary; we’re permanent. Because falling in
love with you was the best thing that I ever did, but I’ve loved you for my whole life, and I know
that I’ll keep loving you for the rest of it.”

Dorcas couldn’t speak for a long moment. Tears filled her eyes as she looked at Marlene, and she
reached to cover Marlene’s hand in hers, intertwining their fingers between them on the bed.

“You—I—” she started, then laughed. “I love you so much, Marlene. How can I even respond to
that?”

Marlene smiled at her. “Just say you’ll have me,” she said. “Because I’ll be here for as long as you
want me.”

“I’ll never stop wanting you,” Dorcas said, her voice full of conviction. “Never. We’ve never been
temporary, Marlene. For as long as we’ve been next to each other, we’ve been permanent, though I
never thought we’d be permanently this. I spent years in love with you, and when you told me that
you loved me too…well, you know. It was like my world lit up. I’ll always stay, for richer, for
poorer, in sickness, and in health. I thought you already knew that.”

Marlene nodded, and now Dorcas could see her eyes shining with tears, too. Marlene wiped at them
with her free hand but clutched Dorcas’ other one even more tightly. “I suppose I was being silly,”
she said. “Not thinking that it was already true.”

Dorcas smiled and gave her hand a squeeze. “Perhaps I just need to remind you more often,” she
said, leaning up to kiss Marlene. “You’ll never get rid of me.”

“Mmm,” Marlene murmured into the kiss, smiling against Dorcas’ lips. She pulled back a moment
later, however, exposing Dorcas’ lips to cold air and making her open her eyes and pout
disappointedly at Marlene. Marlene’s expression was troubled.

“What is it?” Dorcas asked, frowning. Marlene sighed, and her gaze searched Dorcas’ face.

“Will you promise me something else?” she asked after a moment, her fingers playing with
Dorcas’. Dorcas tilted her head in slight confusion, then nodded.

“Whatever you want,” she said.

“Promise that you’ll never die,” Marlene said softly.

Dorcas blinked, surprised, then a wave of sadness crashed over her. Though the danger of the past
months had certainly given them all reason to be worried, Dorcas knew that this wasn’t the only
reason why Marlene was thinking this way. After what had happened with Rosier, it seemed as if
Marlene felt Death’s presence in a way that she never had before, reminding her of her own
mortality, as well as that of everyone around her. Dorcas knew that Rosier’s death haunted
Marlene, knew she still woke up from nightmares about it. Dorcas had been by her side through it
all, and yet she’d never had the power to make Marlene believe that she wouldn’t be damned for
what she’d done that night.

Dorcas gave Marlene a sad smile. “Only if you promise the same thing,” she replied.

They stared at one another, brown eyes locked on blue ones, unable to part. Marlene didn’t
respond, and Dorcas didn’t speak, but they both knew. They knew that that was one thing that they
could never promise, and they wouldn’t lie to one another.

“I’m scared,” Marlene said after a long moment, her eyes filling with tears. “Things have gotten so
bad lately, and I’m scared.”

“Of losing me?” Dorcas asked, both her hands going around one of Marlene’s and squeezing
gently.

“You, and everyone,” Marlene choked out, her throat sounding thick with the tears that spilled over
her eyes and ran down her cheeks. “I’m scared for my dad with all he’s doing at the Ministry to
fight the Death Eaters. I’m scared for the rest of my family. I’m scared for all my friends. And for
you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Dorcas nodded and pushed a lock of Marlene’s hair behind her ear. She let her hand linger on
Marlene’s cheek, and Marlene turned her face into Dorcas’ touch. They stayed like that for a long
moment, before Dorcas responded.

“I’m scared, too,” she admitted finally, the feeling washing through her as soon as she released it
from its floodgates. “I’m terrified for my family and all my friends, and for you. I think everything
might break apart if you go. I’m afraid that I couldn’t bear it.”

Marlene squeezed her eyes shut, and more tears seeped from underneath her eyelashes as she did
so. When she opened her eyes again, they were outlined in red, and the irises looked bluer than
Dorcas believed she’d ever seen them before.

“I used to think that bravery was being fearless,” Marlene said softly, blinking tears away as she
spoke and sniffing slightly. “I used to pretend that I was never afraid. Sometimes I still do. I only
realized when I fell in love with you that I was wrong. Bravery isn’t about being fearless because
you don’t need bravery when you’re not afraid. Bravery’s about being afraid and standing up in the
face of it. I have to remind myself of that every day now so that I can get up and go out and do
what we do. That’s the only way I survive it because I remind myself that I want to be brave. I
want to keep fighting.”

Dorcas nodded, then frowned slightly. “Why did falling in love with me make you realize that?”
she asked. She knew that it was a trivial point in the rest of what Marlene had said, but she felt like
she needed the answer. Maybe it would make her braver, too.

Marlene gave her a watery smile. “Because you scared me,” she replied. “You’ve always burned so
brightly. You were always the one who would sneak out in the middle of the night to look at stars
or jump into a freezing cold lake in the middle of winter. Despite what I tried to make people
believe, I think that you were always more fearless than I could’ve ever hoped to be, and I was just
trying to keep up with you the whole time. I always loved that about you, though, even when it
scared me.”

Dorcas’ cheeks felt warm, but she didn’t take her eyes off Marlene, who was staring back at her,
her expression serious and absolutely genuine. Her eyes lowered for a moment, a flash of sadness
coming across them.

“How much I love you used to scare me, too,” Marlene admitted. “For a while, I was terrified that
loving you in the way that I do would ruin my life.”

Dorcas nodded. “I felt the same,” she said, regret rushing through her as she thought of all the
shame she’d carried back then.
Marlene brought Dorcas’ hand to her lips and kissed the back of it. “But it didn’t,” she said, giving
her another slight smile. Dorcas smiled and shook her head.

“It did the opposite.” Dorcas thought for a long moment, then looked back at Marlene. “Are you
afraid of dying?” she asked, tracing her thumb over Marlene’s pulse point on her wrist, her veins
blue and prominent under her pale skin.

Marlene hesitated for a moment, staring at Dorcas. There was something like sadness in her blue
eyes. “Terrified,” she admitted finally. There was a moment where they held each other’s gaze, the
promise they couldn’t make to one another echoing again in both of their minds. Then, Marlene
broke it. “But I know what I’m fighting for, and I know that it’s worth it. If I die, I’ll have died for
something that’s worth it, at least.”

Dorcas nodded, and Marlene rolled onto her back, finally breaking their gaze. Dorcas curled into
her side, her arms wrapping around Marlene’s waist, and Marlene wrapped her arm around Dorcas’
shoulder. As Dorcas lay there, feeling Marlene’s heartbeat slowing to a steady rhythm under her
ear, she wondered what she was prepared to lose in this war. Perhaps Marlene’s words were true,
and perhaps Dorcas felt the same: she knew that if she died, she would’ve gone down fighting for a
worthwhile cause. Still, even if she was prepared to lose her own life in the war, was she really
prepared to lose Marlene? The question hung in her mind as Marlene traced her fingers up and
down her shoulder, lulling her into sleep.

....

The next morning, Dorcas woke to a peculiar sound coming from outside the bedroom. When she
rolled over, Marlene’s side of the bed was empty. No daisy lay on her pillow this time for Dorcas.
She rose and slid into her slippers, then padded out into the kitchen.

Marlene was sitting at the kitchen table, her back facing Dorcas. She was shaking. “Marlene?”
Dorcas asked, her voice quiet and hesitant.

Marlene turned, and Dorcas saw that her face was streaked with tears. There was a letter in her
hands, and a newspaper sitting on the table in front of her.

Dorcas hurried over to Marlene, enveloping her in her arms. Over her shoulder, she read the
headline of the Daily Prophet. It read: 44 Muggles and 4 Wizards killed in Stardust Nightclub Fire
in Artane, Dublin. Death Eater Attack Suspected. There was a large picture of a building set
aflame, with dark, huddled shapes on the sidewalk outside. It was dated a day previously, when
neither Dorcas nor Marlene had bothered to check their mail, so wrapped up in each other as they’d
been. Marlene pulled back, her eyes puffy and red, and handed Dorcas the letter, which was
splotched with tears, though Dorcas wasn’t sure how many belonged to Marlene and how many
belonged to whoever had written the letter.

“Bridget’s dead,” Marlene said hollowly.

Dorcas’ eyes scanned down the letter, then opened her arms and drew Marlene back into them,
where she began to sob into Dorcas’ shoulder. Their bubble was broken now, and the world had
come rushing back in.
 1981: The Prophecy
Chapter Notes

Thank you for all the lovely comments I've gotten this week!!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

James gazed up at the wrought-iron gates topped with winged boars that he’d been so familiar with
over the course of seven years of magical education and sighed. The castle stood on the hilltop
above them, huge and impressive as it’d ever been. He hadn’t seen this place in three years.

James’ mind went back to that morning. After he’d gotten back from his run—with Harry in tow, in
his stroller—Lily had greeted him with a confused expression and handed over a letter with a
familiar red wax seal on it.

“Dumbledore wants to see us,” she’d said. “At Hogwarts.”

They hadn’t delayed in setting out, only waiting long enough for James to contact Sirius, who’d
appeared moments later in the fireplace, ready to babysit Harry while they were gone. After that,
there was nothing left to do but bid them both goodbye, assuring Sirius that they’d fill him in on the
details of the meeting as soon as they returned. Then, they apparated from their backyard directly
into the town of Hogsmeade.

Their trek up the hill towards the school was mostly silent, as James knew that Lily, like himself,
was busy taking in the scenery. It was a sharp feeling of nostalgia that pierced them both, a longing
that they’d mostly forgotten in the past year, as they’d been so busy with Harry and their adult
lives. Sometimes, James had a hard time believing that Harry had been born only a little more than
eleven months prior. He couldn’t imagine a life without his son, and sometimes he even forgot
about what life had been like before Harry had been born.

For the first six months, he and Lily had barely slept, barely had time to breathe as they’d tried to
keep up with his demands. James had, of course, read stacks and stacks of parenting books during
Lily’s pregnancy, and yet he hadn’t ever been able to fully comprehend how demanding a baby
could be before he’d had one of his own. Still, James liked being busy with Harry. There was a
satisfaction that came from learning what each of Harry’s cries meant, what lullaby would soothe
him to sleep, or what precise rocking motion would calm him down. James had loved so many
people and things in his life, and yet there was something extraordinary and unique about loving a
child—his child. He loved taking care of Harry, loved being able to know what he needed, and
loved it even more when what Harry needed was him. James and Lily had both grown to realize
that there was a special cry that meant that Harry needed to be held by his father. And another
unique one, of course, that meant he needed his mother.

In the past five months, Harry had begun to sleep through the night, and James and Lily had been
able to step back and breathe. Other things happened, too, during that time. James had cried tears of
joy at each new milestone: when Harry had started to crawl; when he’d hoisted himself to his feet
for the first time, only to fall back down onto his backside and look up at James with a thoroughly
surprised expression on his little face. When he’d said his first word—“mama”—James had carried
him over to the room that Lily was in with tears in his eyes and set him on her lap, sniffing loudly
as Lily giggled at him. When he’d first said “dada,” Lily had had to remind James to be careful as
he danced his boy around the sitting room, Harry laughing all the while. That had only happened
within the previous week.

Now, James gazed up at the turrets of the castle, feeling like he himself was a child again. Hagrid’s
enormous shape could be seen on the path ahead, walking down to the gates to let them in. James
and Lily greeted him with warmth, both receiving rib-cracking hugs from the gamekeeper before
they began their journey up to the castle on foot.

“Haven’ seen either of yeh on these grounds fer a long time,” Hagrid said, beaming around at them
as they tried to match his long strides.

“It’s been a while,” Lily replied, looking up at Hogwarts with a wistful expression on her face.
“How is it here, these days?”

“‘S different,” Hagrid said, rather sadly. “Kids were gettin’ pulled out all the time by their parents
‘fore the term ended. Attacks, too, yeh know. Still,” he said, pulling himself out of his gloominess.
“It’ll always be Hogwarts, won’ it?” He shot them a toothy smile.

James returned his smile weakly. Of course it would always be Hogwarts, no matter what
happened there. And yet, James wished that it could feel safe for everyone there. That had never
been the case when he and Lily had attended the school, and it seemed that it’d only gotten worse
since he’d left. Perhaps one day it’d be better. He hoped so.

“Do you know why Dumbledore wants to see us, Hagrid?” Lily asked, craning her neck to look up
into the half-giant’s face.

Hagrid gave a great shrug and shook his head. “Haven’ got a clue,” he said. “Dumbledore don’ say
much these days, but ‘s obvious he’s worried. Can’ blame him. Dark times.”

He shook his head seriously, and they walked in silence for the few remaining yards to the oak
front doors of the castle. Hagrid opened them and waved Lily and James inside.

“‘Spect I’ll see the both of yeh at the next Order meeting,” he said, giving them a smile. “Take
care o’ yourselves until then.”

They bade him goodbye and headed past the entrance hall up to the Grand Staircase. As he passed
it, James looked into the Great Hall, his eyes trailing along the house tables. His gaze lingered on
the place where he, Sirius, Remus, and Peter had always sat at the Gryffindor table before tearing
his eyes away. This castle held many memories.

As they made their way up the staircase, James had to marvel at how quiet it was.

“It’s strange to be here during the summer holidays,” Lily remarked, clearly thinking the same
thing that James had as they waited for the staircase in front of them to change. “It’s almost eerie.”

“Yeah,” James said, his hand trailing over the banister. “I never really imagined what Hogwarts
would be like in summer when we were school-age.”

Lily smiled wistfully. “Me neither,” she said. “It always seemed like it must just vanish when no
one’s here.”

There was a moment of silence as they mounted the staircase that had just come to a halt in front of
them. Then, Lily spoke again. “Do you think he wants us to do a special mission or something?”
she asked, a note of nervousness in her voice.
“I don’t know,” James replied, a tingle of anxiety rushing through him once more, easy to call up
these days. His mind went through all sorts of different possibilities for why Dumbledore would
want to speak with them alone, each as grim as the last. “I just hope there’s no more bad news.”

Lily nodded, her jaw clenching slightly, and she began to worry her lip as they walked. James
reached out and took her hand in his, intertwining their fingers and giving her hand a comforting
squeeze. There had been too much tragedy recently, too much fear. He hadn’t imagined that the
Death Eaters could get any worse than they already had been, but with the dawn of the new year,
the situation had turned graver than ever. The Order was just trying to keep up these days, trying to
save who they could, but there was no way they could respond to every call or save every life.
Each day, more murders were reported in the Daily Prophet. Sooner or later, James thought, Death
would come knocking on the Order’s door. It was a miracle it hadn’t already.

When they reached the entrance to the Headmaster’s office, they gave the password that
Dumbledore had shared with them in the letter, and the gargoyle leapt aside, allowing them to
climb onto the moving spiral staircase that took them to Dumbledore’s office door. Lily took the
brass knocker in her hand and knocked.

“Enter,” Dumbledore said, his voice muffled, and they stepped into the office, James closing the
door behind them.

James didn’t have time to properly survey the room and notice how little it’d changed since the last
time he’d been there before his eyes fell upon two people he hadn’t expected to find there. Alice
and Frank Longbottom were sitting in two chairs in front of Dumbledore’s desk. They turned as
Lily and James entered, and Frank gave James a smile, which James could see was tinged with the
same anxiety that he felt.

“Ah, you received my message,” Dumbledore said, standing up and smiling at James and Lily. He
gestured towards the two remaining seats in front of his desk, which he must have conjured for this
occasion. “Sit down, please.”

James and Lily sat, Lily glancing at Alice, in the chair next to her, her eyes questioning. Alice
shook her head, however. “He hasn’t told us anything yet,” she said quietly. “He wanted to wait for
you.”

There was something in her air, though, in the way that the whole of her body was tensed, that
heightened James’ earlier trepidation. All four of them turned to look at Dumbledore, who’d sat
back down in his chair, too, and was surveying them over the tips of his fingers, which rested
together. His light blue eyes seemed to pierce them, and yet James thought he saw something in the
old headmaster’s eyes that he hadn’t before: hesitancy. It was as if he was readying himself to deal
a blow. James braced himself for it.

“As you all know, Lord Voldemort has been particularly active over the course of the past year,”
Dumbledore began, regarding them all across his desk. They all nodded silently. “What I haven’t
told you is why, or I should say, my conjecture as to why his forces have been so determined since
last August.”

James gazed back at Dumbledore disbelievingly. He’d never even guessed that Dumbledore knew
the reason why the Death Eaters had been so vicious, had never stopped to suppose that there
might be a deeper reason at all. Beside him, Lily shifted in her chair, staring at Dumbledore with
slightly narrowed eyes. Alice and Frank sat silently as well, breathlessly awaiting answers
alongside him and Lily.

Dumbledore let out a heavy sigh. “I have concealed the truth from you for too long,” he said, his
tone speaking of tired guilt. “I believed I could protect you from it, and yet you have been in
danger, and I should have informed you of the details of how and why.”

Dumbledore closed his eyes, and there was a long silence before he opened them again. As James
waited, his heart pounded in his chest. He fought to keep still while his fingers itched to fidget
nervously with the hem of his shirt.

When Dumbledore opened his eyes, he didn’t speak, rather, he stood up from his chair and strode
over to a cabinet by the door. He bent down to retrieve something inside, and when he
straightened, he was holding what looked like a shallow stone basin full of some silvery potion. He
walked around the desk again and sat, placing it before them. With no further explanation, he drew
his wand and prodded the surface of the potion. Up through the potion swirled a figure, twisting
into the shape of a woman James knew. It was Sybill Trelawney, who’d been a few years older
than him at school, and who, rumor had it, was now Dumbledore’s Divination professor. She
opened her mouth and spoke, slowly revolving in the basin as she did so.

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches,” she declared, her voice loud and
hoarse, eyes glassy. “Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…
and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…
and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…the one
with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies.”

Her voice trailed off, and her figure sunk back into the basin, dissolving into its silvery depths.
James watched the surface as it swallowed Sybill Trelawney, his mouth slightly open. There was a
long silence as James and the others tried to process what the shadowy seer had said. It was Alice
who spoke first.

“What was that?” she asked, her voice sharp, and when James finally looked up from the basin, he
found that her gaze was fixed on Dumbledore, eyes wide.

“This is a Pensieve,” Dumbledore explained, gesturing to the stone basin. “I use it to hold my
thoughts and memories I worry I will forget, so as to recall them in exact detail. In this instance, I
used the Pensieve to preserve the record of the prophecy given to me by Sybill Trelawney on one
cold evening in April 1980. I met her in the Hog’s Head Inn to interview her for the position of
Divination professor, you see.”

James did see. He saw a little too clearly. His mind was in overdrive, recalling the words of the
prophecy he’d heard only moments before, trying to understand their meaning. Born to those who
thrice defied him…born as the seventh month dies…Neither can live...

“I never dreamed I would hear anything of note that day in the Hog’s Head,” Dumbledore
continued, plowing through James’ panicked thoughts. “Perhaps if I had known that Sybill
Trelawney was a true seer, or had any of the knowledge I now have, I would have taken more care
in choosing our meeting place. Alas, we cannot change what is already done.”

James’ inner dialogue screeched to a halt. He looked up at Dumbledore, horror all over his
expression. “Are you saying that someone else overheard this prophecy?” he demanded.
Dumbledore sighed and nodded.

“Unfortunately, an eavesdropper was apprehended listening at the door as Sybill recited her
prophecy,” he admitted heavily. “He is a known Death Eater, and presumably brought the
information straight to Lord Voldemort.”

Frank groaned and put his face in his hands, while Alice shook her head as if to negate the truth of
what was happening.

“Fortunately,” Dumbledore continued. “This Death Eater only heard the first few lines of the
prophecy. He does not know its full contents. This may give us an advantage.”

“Wait,” Lily said, holding up her hands to stop them. She’d been silent ever since entering the
office and now stared at Dumbledore with wide eyes, a sort of frozen panic on her face.

“You can’t possibly think—” She broke off, searching for words, staring at Dumbledore as if
trying to find a lie in his blue eyes. “Are you saying that this prophecy means that one of our two
boys—Harry or Neville—that one of them is meant to kill Voldemort?”

Dumbledore returned her gaze steadily. “Yes,” he replied, his voice calm. “That is what the
prophecy indicates. As members of the Order of the Phoenix, you are all in a position to have
thrice defied Voldemort, and both Harry and Neville were born at the end of July in 1980, or, as the
prophecy states, ‘as the seventh month dies.’ I have not discovered evidence of any other magical
child born at the end of July 1980 who fits these criteria.”

“But—but—” Lily said as if she was searching for a way to negate his statement. “But they’re just
children—just babies! Neither is even a year old! How could they defeat the most powerful dark
wizard who ever lived?”

“It is possible,” Dumbledore said, “that whichever of the two is the true subject of the prophecy
will not defeat Lord Voldemort until he is older. Sybill gave no indication of when the prophecy
would be fulfilled.”

“But that can’t be true!” Lily exclaimed, panic flooding her voice. “We can’t live like we have
been for years! No one will be left to save if Voldemort’s supporters do any more killing.”

“I know,” Dumbledore said, his voice full of anguish. “I cannot say how the future will unfold, as I
have no gift for second sight myself, unlike Sybill Trelawney.”

“Well then, why can’t we ask her for more details?” Alice asked desperately.

“Professor Trelawney has no memory of ever making this prophecy, let alone more insight into its
contents,” Dumbledore said. “I’m afraid that she will not be forthcoming with any further
information.”

“So you’re telling us that we have no details, and yet our boys are in danger because you let a
Death Eater get away after he heard that one of our children would kill his master?” Lily
practically shouted at Dumbledore, her green eyes blazing with what James knew to be both fury
and terror. “Harry’s eleven months old! He hasn’t even started properly walking! I worry
constantly about keeping him away from electrical sockets and putting potions out of his reach,
and now you’re telling me that I have to protect him from the darkest wizard ever to exist?!”

James made to reach over to take her hand, trying to comfort her even as he felt like he needed a bit
of comfort himself, but Lily pushed her chair back with a loud sound and began to pace behind
him, hands on hips, still glaring at the headmaster. James was irresistibly reminded of their school
years as he watched her, as if they’d traveled back in time to their fifth year, and she was putting
him in detention for pulling a prank. He shook his head slightly, trying to clear it as he looked back
at Dumbledore. The shock of the news was making his brain feel fuzzy.

“Unfortunately, that is the truth of the matter, yes,” Dumbledore said. “I have tried my best over
the course of this last year to prevent Voldemort from gaining knowledge of Neville or Harry, but it
is only a matter of time until he discovers their existence.”

“And then…he’ll try to kill them,” Alice said, her voice full of leaden dread, staring at
Dumbledore. Her hand clutched Frank’s, knuckles white. She glanced over at James. “He’ll try to
kill them both.”

An icy sensation began to creep into James’ stomach. Little Harry…he thought of his son’s
laughter, his eyes, green like Lily’s, his round cheeks, his nose, which reminded James of his own
mother, the cheeky smile he wore, which reminded James of his father... He couldn’t lose him, not
after his parents…not at all. How was it that his son had had a target placed on his head before he’d
even been born? How was it that an innocent child could be any danger to anyone?

“How do we protect them?” James demanded of Dumbledore.

“I believe that the best course of action is for both of your families to go into hiding,” Dumbledore
said, his tone becoming business-like. “Luckily, as you are all Order members, you have already
been taking precautions. This will only add to them. With your permission, I will make both of
your homes unplottable. We will cast more protective enchantments around them as well. You
should not give the details of the magical protection around your homes to anyone, and only you
will be able to allow others entrance. Most importantly, however, you will all have to say goodbye
to your day-to-day lives. Our safeguards will mean little if you venture outside the sphere of
protection.”

James felt another leaden weight drop into his stomach. He knew what that would mean. He’d
have to abandon his Healer Training, and Lily would have to quit her job as a potioneer. They’d
have no lives outside their home until this was all over. Of course, money wasn’t a concern, given
his inheritance, but his heart ached for the life he’d wanted, and the careers that both he and Lily
were passionate about.

“How can we expect to hide from Voldemort for years?” Alice demanded. “If he’s really searching
for us, I doubt that any protective enchantments will stop him.”

“Perhaps not,” Dumbledore conceded. “But things may change. For now, it is the best we can
possibly do. Down the line, perhaps, we may be able to find something better, but there is no sense
in waiting for the perfect plan to arise while you go unprotected. At present, it seems that
Voldemort still has not gotten wind of the fact that either Harry or Neville may be the boy
indicated in the prophecy.”

There was a long silence. James glanced back at Lily, who’d stopped pacing and looked as if her
rage had somewhat calmed. She met his gaze, and he gave a slight, sad shrug. She sighed and
nodded, then moved around to take her seat beside him once more, her hand finally sliding into his.
They both knew that it was the best that they could do. It wasn’t enough, but perhaps nothing
would ever be enough to make them feel safe anymore.

James had stopped feeling safe as soon as he’d joined the Order of the Phoenix. For years, he’d felt
as if there would always be something around every corner, that there would always be a threat to
contend with, and he’d always be on the brink of dying or losing someone he loved. It’d been hard
to quell that anxiety when he knew it wasn’t unwarranted. Now, it was even more of a real
possibility, but James was still as helpless as ever.

“Fine,” Lily said, looking at Dumbledore. “We’ll do it.”

Dumbledore turned toward Alice and Frank, who’d been exchanging silent glances, and they
nodded, too.
 “Excellent,” Dumbledore said. “Now, we must discuss the details of—”

“One more thing, before we do,” Frank interrupted, a quarrelsome look on his face as he regarded
Dumbledore. Dumbledore looked taken aback for a moment, then leaned back and nodded for
Frank to continue.

“You said at the beginning of this meeting that you were going to tell us why the attacks have
become so frequent,” Frank said, his brown eyes not leaving Dumbledore’s face, clearly
determined to discover every ounce of truth to be found there. “But this only explains why the
Death Eaters have been more deadly since last August. We all know that everything has gotten
worse since the end of last year, too. Do you know why that is?”

Dumbledore hesitated again, but Frank’s gaze was boring into him. James marveled for a moment
at how strange this all was. Here were two sets of previous Head Students at Hogwarts, both sitting
in this office as adults and demanding answers from Dumbledore. James wouldn’t have dared look
at Dumbledore the way Frank was looking at him now when he’d been a student, but a lot had
changed in the past few years. They were all parents now, and they weren’t only looking out for
themselves anymore.

“We need to know,” Alice said more quietly, but with just as much determination as Frank, her
eyes fixed on Dumbledore, too. “We need to know what we’re up against…what our boys are up
against.”

Dumbledore gazed back at her for a moment, his eyes unreadable, before his gaze flicked to Lily
and James. After a moment, he nodded.

“I believe that there is a spy in the Order,” he said.

Chapter End Notes

Okay, so I have to make a disclaimer that if you think this timeline is weird and having
protection over both the Potters and Longbottoms is weird…I’m trying to do the best I
can with what I have to work with (i.e. complete and utter timeline inconsistency in the
books).

Facts we have from the books:

- Lily, James, and Harry were in hiding in Godric’s Hollow by July 31st, 1981 (per
Lily’s letter to Sirius found in book 7)
- Sybill’s prophecy was made sometime in 1980, before Harry or Neville were born
- According to Fudge in book 3, the Potters were killed “barely a week after the
Fidelius Charm was cast” (and no, it wasn’t cast twice to switch Secret Keepers,
because then Fudge and everyone would’ve known about them switching to Peter and
Sirius wouldn’t have been locked up at all)

Therefore, the Fidelius Charm was cast in late October 1981, though we know that
they were already in hiding in July 1981. The idea that both the Longbottoms and the
Potters were in hiding with lesser protection until they found out later that it was really
Harry that Voldemort was after is my way of trying to make my fic timeline be the
most canon compliant as I can when what I have to work with is a plot that has more
holes in it than swiss cheese. I know it’s not perfect, but it’s all I’ve got. (Can you tell
that I’m a control freak?)
 1981: Looking Too Closely
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Put your arms around somebody else

Don't punish yourself, punish yourself

Truth is like blood underneath your fingernails

And you don't wanna hurt yourself, hurt yourself

- "Looking Too Closely," FINK

“Dumbledore thinks what?” Sirius demanded, staring up at James distractedly as Harry tugged on
the sleeve of his shirt, babbling incoherently. He’d heard James’ words, but they didn’t seem quite
real to him.

James scrubbed a hand over his face, looking older than Sirius had ever seen him. Lily had
disappeared upstairs as soon as they’d returned home, her face stricken as she flew past Sirius.

“We’re going into hiding,” James said, crouching down beside Harry and Sirius and handing his
son a toy train that he’d been playing with, plastering a false smile onto his face as Harry beamed
up at him, brandishing the miniature steam engine in his hand. When Harry looked away, James’
expression fell into lines of misery again, and he looked back up at Sirius.

“Dumbledore’s supposed to come by later today to cast some advanced protective enchantments on
our house. He’s going to make it unplottable, among other things.”

“And he’s doing the same with Frank and Alice’s place?” Sirius confirmed, his mind still reeling at
the information. James nodded tiredly. Sirius stared at his best friend for a moment, whose hazel
eyes were downcast and dark hair mussed. Finally, he burst out: “But this is madness! We all knew
Sybill Trelawney in school; she was crazy! She made prophecies every other day, and they were all
nonsense! How can Dumbledore place any weight on her words?”

James shook his head. “You didn’t see the memory,” he said, his voice low and worried. “I
remember Trelawney’s weird predictions in school, and this wasn’t like that at all. This time, it
seemed like she was in a trance, and her voice sounded different. Dumbledore said that she didn’t
remember anything afterward.”

Sirius glanced down at Harry, who was now happily sucking on the end of his toy train, paying
them no attention, and shook his head. How could Harry defeat Lord Voldemort? He was still
three weeks away from his first birthday. His age was still only counted in months. Sirius had
watched his godson as he’d learned to roll over, learned to crawl, begun to take his first steps, and
form his first few words, and all that had seemed incredible, but how could he ever grow up to kill
the darkest wizard who’d ever lived?

“What did the prophecy say exactly?” Sirius asked, looking back up at James, trying desperately to
find a loophole. James shook his head again.
“I didn’t memorize it, Padfoot,” he said tiredly. “I can’t think too specifically about what’s going to
happen to him, not now. It said enough to convince me that either he or Neville is the boy it refers
to, though.”

Sirius’ jaw clenched, and a surge of anger rose up in him. “Dumbledore should’ve told us about it
the minute he heard it,” he said furiously. “What else is he hiding?”

James’ gaze flicked up to him, and a rather sardonic smile came onto his face. “You won’t like it,”
he said. Sirius’ stomach clenched.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

“Dumbledore thinks that there’s a spy in the Order of the Phoenix,” James said. “Someone
reporting on our movements to Voldemort. He believes that that’s why the Death Eaters have
always seemed several steps ahead during these past months.”

Sirius hadn’t known what he’d expected, but it wasn’t this. Shock flooded him, and he was frozen
for a moment, mouth slightly open as he tried to take in the new information. His mind raced,
going back through all that had happened in the past months: the Muggle massacres, the unrest, the
murders of Ministry officials, and the fact that everything the Order tried to do seemed too little,
too late. He closed his mouth.

“How long?” he asked quietly. “How long does he think that there’s been a spy for?”

James shrugged. “Probably since November, Dumbledore said. But he couldn’t be sure.”

Sirius’ hands clenched into fists and he rose to his feet, trying not to startle Harry even as restless
anger and frustration raged through him. His godson looked up at him with Lily’s bright green
eyes, his gaze curious as Sirius began to pace, his fists clenching and releasing as he fought not to
lash out and break something. This was the kind of anger that made him shatter things
involuntarily with magic, and he couldn’t do that now.

“Why didn’t he tell us before?” he burst out finally, turning to James. James grimaced.

“He said he hadn’t been sure,” James replied, but even his tone was doubtful. James didn’t trust
their old headmaster anymore either.

Sirius snorted. “And does he have any suspicions about who it is?”

“None that he shared with us,” James replied, his gaze meeting Sirius’.

Their eyes communicated the unspoken knowledge that this was just another challenge facing
them. Sirius thought about all the members of the Order, turning each figure over in his head,
suspicion clouding his mind. James shook his head, clearly guessing what Sirius must be thinking.

“If we start mistrusting people, it’ll only break us all apart,” he said.

“But if we blindly trust them all, it’ll get us all killed,” Sirius protested, resuming his pacing.
James sighed, and the sound was full of a weariness that was well beyond his years.

“Lily said the same thing,” he replied. “But she also said that it’d probably drive her insane to be
looking over her shoulder for a traitor everywhere.” He looked up at Sirius and shrugged. “I
suppose the solution is that we trust the people closest to us, knowing that they wouldn’t hurt us,
and be cautious with everyone else.”
Sirius shook his head. The people closest to us are the most likely to hurt us , he wanted to say.
Trusting them makes us vulnerable. He bit back the words, however, knowing that James would
hate that idea. Still, if James wasn’t going to be on his guard, Sirius would do it for the both of
them.

“Is Dumbledore going to say something to the rest of the Order?” he asked instead.

“He’s not going to tell them about the prophecy,” James said. “He told us that we should tell few
people, and to use discretion in choosing who. But he agreed to say something about the spy.
There’ll probably be a meeting sometime in the next week.”

“That’s something, at least,” Sirius muttered. He glanced up the stairs to the closed door on the
landing that led to Lily and James’ bedroom. “Is Lily alright?” he asked James, concern crowding
out anger.

James shook his head. “No,” he said. “She’s devastated.”

The sadness that filled his expression was enough to tell Sirius that he felt the same, that the only
reason he was sitting there talking to his best friend was that he felt as if he owed him an
explanation.

Sirius nodded. “Do you want me to stick around to take care of Harry?” he asked. “If you and Lily
want some time, that is.”

“No, that’s alright, Padfoot,” James said wearily, giving him a small smile. “Thanks, though.”

“Of course,” Sirius said. “I’ll get out of your hair, then.” He turned toward the door, then hesitated,
looking back. “Can I tell Moony about the prophecy and the spy?”

James nodded. “He should know what’s happening.”

“Will you tell the others about the prophecy?” Sirius asked, looking down at his best friend in
concern. James nodded.

“Our friends will notice that we’re stuck here, anyway,” he said. “We’ll tell them when we see
them next.”

Sirius nodded. He wasn’t sure it was the wisest choice, but there would be no dissuading James,
and he wasn’t really sure himself what the right action would be, anyway. “Whenever you’re
ready,” he replied.

....

A week later, the members of the Order of the Phoenix gathered in Caradoc Dearborn’s London
house once more to hear Dumbledore’s news. As he sat down next to Remus on the couch, Sirius
noted that it felt like a far smaller group than usual. Neither Lily and James nor Alice and Frank
were there, of course, given that both were safely ensconced in their homes under Dumbledore’s
protective enchantments. Others were missing, too, like Elphias Doge and Hagrid, who’d
presumably been called away for other important duties or spy work.

It was a cool day, for summer at least, but Sirius felt as if there was an unnatural chill in the room
that couldn’t be explained by the weather. It was quiet, and when Dumbledore entered, he had a
grim air around him indeed.

“I fear that I have few pieces of good news to bring to you all today,” he started, his light blue eyes
looking tired. “As most of you will know, the Death Eaters have begun to take advantage of the
political riots taking place all over the country to kill Muggles on both sides. The Ministry has
responded very weakly to these attacks, choosing to turn a blind eye and claiming that the violence
is solely caused by Muggles instead of interfering.”

A ripple of angry muttering ran through the group, and Dumbledore sighed.

“Yesterday, John McKinnon, the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation,
spoke out against the Ministry’s inaction. We have hope that his words may catalyze the Ministry
into action, allowing Aurors and members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad to respond to
reports of Death Eaters attacking protesters, but there have been no changes enacted yet.”

Sirius glanced over at Marlene, who sat next to Dorcas, her back straight and chin lifted proudly as
Dumbledore spoke of her father. Her blue eyes blazed.

“However, we may also expect retaliation if his words do spark change,” Dumbledore said, giving
a small nod in Marlene’s direction. “We have cast more protective enchantments around the
McKinnon house to protect against this possibility, and if any are broken, an alert will be sent to
the Order.”

On Sirius’ other side, Peter shifted in his seat slightly, and when Sirius looked over at him, he
found that his eyes were fixed on Marlene, too, a slight, worried look on his face. Sirius wondered
whether retaliation really would come. After all, Marlene’s father had made many other
impassioned speeches against Death Eaters over the years, and nothing had happened then. Sirius
supposed that these days, it was always better safe than sorry. His gaze flicked back to
Dumbledore, who seemed to be scanning the room slowly, waiting for the whispers to quiet. As
his gaze met Sirius’, a guarded expression settled over his face, and he cleared his throat.

“I must also inform you of something else, which may prove fatal to our ability to fight this war,”
he said.

A deathly hush fell over the group, some looking up at Dumbledore in apprehension, some in
confusion, some with tired dread. Moody, standing at Dumbledore’s side, looked even more grim
than usual. Sirius braced himself for the words to come.

“Over the past months, we have faced many trials,” Dumbledore began, his eyes scanning over all
of them. “I know that many of you have noticed that our efforts of late have seemed almost wholly
in vain. Though I have no concrete proof to support my theory, I believe that our failures have
been, in part, due to the presence of a spy in our midst.”

The members of the Order seemed to freeze, all staring up at Dumbledore. Sirius, of course, had
known what Dumbledore had planned to announce, as had Remus, but he presumed that the rest
had been completely in the dark unless Alice or Frank had confided in anyone. Sirius glanced at
Benjy, Alice and Frank’s closest friend in the Order, and registered that his expression looked less
shocked and more resigned than that of the others. Perhaps he’d been clued in on the secret, too,
then. Sirius took the opportunity to trail his gaze over the faces of the other members, looking for
anything out of the ordinary. The shock and fear were near identical in all of them, however.
Predictably, it was Marlene who spoke first.

“Do you have any idea who it is?” she demanded, leaning forward breathlessly, her eyes flicking
from Dumbledore’s face to Moody’s, beside him. Moody gave her a slight shake of his head, but it
was Dumbledore who replied.

“Not yet,” he said heavily. “It is only in the recent weeks that I have even become confident that
there is an informant at all. I have yet to find any lead into who it might be.”

“How long have you suspected it?” Dorcas asked, beside Marlene, her eyes slightly narrowed as
she looked up at Dumbledore. A ripple seemed to wash through the crowd as others glanced at her,
then looked towards the headmaster, flickers of suspicion in their eyes.

“Many months,” Dumbledore admitted, as every eye turned to him. There was a slight muttering
that followed, as even the older members of the Order of the Phoenix seemed discontented with
this news. McGonagall shook her head in disgust while Edgar Bones cast his eyes skyward, the
anger on his face unmistakable. The Prewett brothers exchanged a quiet, frustrated glance, their
arms crossed identically over their chests. Sirius marveled at this show of open discontent with
their leader, which had rarely been seen throughout his time with the Order.

“So what do we do now?” Edgar asked after he’d finished exchanging a look with Professor
McGonagall.

“What can we do?” Fabian Prewett demanded angrily. “If one of us is reporting all of our
movements to Voldemort, how can we possibly act at all?”

“I have developed a plan with the help of Moody and Dearborn,” Dumbledore said, nodding to the
men standing silently on either side of him. “We must, of course, discard the idea that everyone in
the Order is trustworthy. Therefore, we shall ask you to only share information about Order
missions and locations with those who are on duty with you and only divulge information on a
need-to-know basis. We will cease having whole Order meetings, and instead, I will be giving
reports and instructions directly to all groups, and they will report only to me in return. In addition,
we will no longer put out messages to the whole Order, and no one should respond to a message
that they didn’t directly receive when they are not on duty.”

There were several shouts of protest, but it was Sturgis’ voice that rose over the rest. “But only
four or five members are on duty at a time!” he exclaimed, brandishing his hands to emphasize his
point. “If only those people can respond to calls, we won’t be able to save as many lives, and more
of us will be hurt—or even killed— trying!”

“If everyone receives the information and responds, the Death Eaters may be alerted as well, and
the whole thing will be futile,” Dearborn responded calmly, though every line in his face was
etched with resignation. “This is the best we can do.”

“We respond to one problem by creating another,” Edgar said, shaking his head in disgust. “What
does that solve?”

“We will have to resign ourselves to the fact that our ability to help has diminished greatly,”
Dumbledore said heavily. “But this will give us time to discover who the spy is, and then hopefully
we will be able to return to the war effort with full zeal.”

“And what about the group that has the spy in it?” Hestia asked, her voice quiet but forceful.

Sirius’ eyes flew to her, and he saw that while her expression appeared calm, her dark eyes were
filled with something like dread, as if she was watching a horrible prophecy come true.
Dumbledore, Moody, and Dearborn looked back at her silently, apparently lost for words for the
first time.

She looked around at the rest of the Order. “The people who are on duty with the spy will be in just
as much danger as ever.”
A ripple passed through the crowd, and many faces fell as they realized what she meant.

Emmeline, beside her, said what they were all thinking, looking up at Dumbledore. “You’re
sacrificing them for the greater good, aren’t you? You’re going to make note of who gets hurt or
dies, to see if you can find a pattern so that you can figure out who the spy is.”

Dumbledore shook his head. “That is not the aim,” he said. “I will do everything in my power to
protect each and every one of you.”

But Sirius, looking up at the old headmaster, couldn’t bring himself to believe him, and judging by
the apprehensive looks the others were exchanging, they didn’t, either.

....

Hours later, Sirius returned to his flat from James’ and Lily’s house, where he’d relayed to them all
that had happened in the meeting. Remus came in a few minutes later, removing his coat and
hanging it up, and shaking the rain out of his wavy brown hair. He’d headed straight from the
Order meeting to visit his mother in Wales, something he’d been doing more and more often these
days.

“That was some meeting, wasn’t it?” Sirius asked, opening a bottle of butterbeer and taking a long
gulp. Remus leaned against the counter and sighed, shaking his head.

“I’m not sure what Dumbledore’s goal was, but now no one trusts one another, or him, so it didn’t
turn out very well,” he replied.

“Yeah, he didn’t do much to instill confidence,” Sirius said, snorting in disgust. “His reply to Em’s
accusation was the worst bit of reassurance I’ve ever heard him give.”

“You really think that he’s going to sacrifice us to find out who the spy is?” Remus asked, looking
at Sirius with eyebrows raised. Sirius didn’t hesitate to nod.

“I think he’ll do whatever it takes,” he said. “I don’t fully blame him for it, either. We need to root
out who it is as quickly as possible, or this war will be over, and we’ll lose.”

Remus sighed. “I’m still not sure that I believe that someone in the Order actually turned against
us,” he said. “We all joined because we cared about this cause. Why would someone switch
sides?”

“Threats, torture,” Sirius suggested, shrugging. He had no problem imagining the methods that the
Death Eaters might have used to get someone in the Order to change sides. “Doesn’t make it any
less of a betrayal, though.”

“Doesn’t it?” Remus asked, tilting his head as he regarded Sirius. “If it wasn’t their intent—”

“Whoever it is has cost us lives, lives that we could’ve saved,” Sirius said firmly, cutting over
Remus. He shook his head, giving Remus a look of disbelief. “I’d die rather than become a spy for
Voldemort. Whoever it is is selfish, and a coward. I don’t have any sympathy for them.”

Remus was silent, then, looking at Sirius, and Sirius looked back into his blue eyes, holding their
gaze. It was clear that Remus disagreed with his severe decree, but he wasn’t going to press the
point further. A flicker of doubt crept into Sirius’ mind. Wouldn’t Remus die for the cause rather
than join the other side, too?

“I suppose you’re right,” Remus replied finally, and Sirius felt a wave of relief wash through him,
chasing away most of the prickling doubt.

Remus walked over to the couch in the sitting room and sat down, his whole posture slumping as
he leaned back against the cushions, exhaustion showing in every inch.

“I just hope we find whoever it is soon,” he said, closing his eyes and scrubbing a hand over his
face. “So that we can all be safe.”

Sirius followed him, sitting down on the other side of the couch and putting his feet up. “Safe is a
relative term, these days,” he replied.

“I suppose so,” Remus said, blinking open his eyes again and looking at Sirius. “But with the
prophecy, and James, Lily, and Harry being in hiding…Voldemort feels closer than ever.”

“Yeah,” Sirius agreed. “And the thing with Marlene’s family. Do you think that they’re actually in
danger?”

“Yes,” Remus said without hesitation. “But with any luck, the protective enchantments will do
their job. Did Marlene say anything about it to you after the meeting?”

“She didn’t seem any more worried than usual,” Sirius said, shrugging. “Her dad’s made tons of
those kinds of speeches against Voldemort before, and they’ve never had any retaliation from the
Death Eaters. Still, she’s going over there for dinner tonight, partly to keep an eye on things, I
think, which makes me think she’s more scared than she’s letting on.”

“It must be hard for her after what happened to her cousin,” Remus said, frowning slightly. “That
was only a few months ago.”

“Yeah,” Sirius said, sighing. Marlene had been a wreck after Bridget had died, understandably, and
it’d been painful for all of them to see. “And also with what happened to Rosier…” He trailed off,
shaking his head, remembering how she’d been after what had happened in December. “Marley’s
been through a lot recently.”

“At least she has Dee to take care of her,” Remus said. Sirius nodded.

“Yeah,” he replied.

A silence fell between them. Sirius looked down at his hands, then up again at Remus tentatively.
Things had been hard for Remus, too, in the last few months.

“How was your visit with your mum?” Sirius asked.

Remus sighed and gave his head a slight, sad shake. “My dad says that it’s probably about time to
think about saying goodbye,” he replied. His fingers knotted together in his lap, knuckles turning
white.

Sirius sighed. “I’m sorry, Moony,” he said. He reached a hand out, resting it on top of Remus’
intertwined fingers, and Remus let out a long breath.

“I’ve had years longer with her than anyone predicted when she first got sick,” he said heavily. “I
suppose I should be grateful for that, at least.”

“She’s a fighter, your mum,” Sirius said. “Maybe she’ll get better again.”

Remus shook his head. “I don’t think so, not this time,” he said.
 He disentangled his fingers from one another and flipped his hand over to twine them with Sirius’
instead. Sirius squeezed gently in a comforting gesture.

“And how are things with your dad?” Sirius asked. Remus shrugged.

“We still don’t talk much unless it’s about mam,” he said. “I’m still not sure if I want to, and he
hasn’t really pushed. I think he’s scared of what I’ll say.”

Sirius hummed softly, at a loss for what to say. It wasn’t as if he was in any position to give Remus
advice about parents. He didn’t know the first thing about how to heal the cracks in a family.
While it hadn’t been an easy decision to run away from home, the extreme nature of his parents’
cruelty had meant that he’d never regretted leaving them behind. The complex love and betrayal he
felt for Regulus was much more difficult, but clearly, Sirius had failed to fix anything with his
brother before Regulus’ death.

Remus sighed and leaned his head back against the couch. Glancing over at Sirius, he gave him a
slight, sheepish smile.

“Is it alright if I go to bed now?” he asked. “I know it’s really early, and I know I said I’d stay up
with you since you’re on duty for the Order, but I’m exhausted.”

“Of course, you should go to sleep,” Sirius replied earnestly. “Anyway, given Dumbledore’s new
rules, you wouldn’t be allowed to respond to anything with me if I got a message.”

“True,” Remus said, yawning.

He stood, walked over to where Sirius was sitting, and leaned down to give him a short kiss, his
hand cupping Sirius’ jaw briefly. When he pulled back, Sirius sighed a little disappointedly but
allowed Remus to walk past him and towards their bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He
heard the sounds of the closet opening and closing again, of Remus throwing something into the
hamper, then of his weight collapsing onto the bed, and smiled. Sirius took another sip of his
butterbeer and looked out of the windows at London. The sun had still not made much of an
appearance that day, and it was drizzling slightly, but it was still light out. He guessed that daylight
would last another few hours, as it was summer. He’d make use of it while it was still there.

Sirius pulled out his sketchbook and began to draw the London skyline. He’d never been very good
at drawing landscapes, far better at people, objects, and animals. And yet, Sirius felt as if he
wanted a record of that day, and all that had happened, and perhaps the view of the cloudy, rainy
sky over the London buildings could hold the meaning that he wanted it to. Perhaps it could
encapsulate the distrust, the fear, and the feeling that they had no idea what was steady ground
anymore and what would fall out from beneath them. He’d seen it in the faces around Dearborn’s
sitting room, and somehow, it felt as if the London sky was crying for the loss of certainty, too.

Sirius sketched until his hands hurt, until his pencil had run down, and until his eyelids grew heavy
with fatigue. When darkness finally claimed the room, he set the sketchbook aside, and it was only
then that he felt the charm around his wrist begin to grow warm. With a familiar dread, he reached
for the metal phoenix, turning it over to read the message on the back. His blood ran cold as his
eyes scanned over the writing, his heart beginning to pound a fast rhythm in his chest. Etched into
the soft gold lay four words:

SOS - McKinnon house.

Chapter End Notes

I’m so sorry.
 1981: Give Me a Minute to Hold My Girl
Chapter Notes

cw: major character death, non-major character deaths, graphic depictions of violence

See the end of the chapter for more notes

I've got time, I've got love

Got confidence you'll rise above

Give me a minute to hold my girl

Give me a minute to hold my girl

Crowded town, silent bed

Pick a place to rest your head, and

Give me a minute to hold my girl

Give me a minute to hold my girl

- "Hold My Girl," George Ezra

Dorcas could almost picture the scene in her head, the last time she’d seen Marlene alive. They’d
spent their last morning together lounging in their small flat, getting up late reluctantly once their
grumbling stomachs were too difficult to ignore. Marlene had made breakfast for them both,
dressed only in an oversized t-shirt and knickers, her hair messy and her lips swollen from
snogging Dorcas all morning. She’d looked so beautiful... Dorcas had told her so, and Marlene had
rolled her eyes and just smirked at Dorcas in a very Marlene way before Dorcas wrapped her
smaller frame around Marlene’s back, her arms hugging her waist as she stood at the stove.

They’d had a lazy afternoon, Dorcas reading a book with her head in Marlene’s lap, Marlene’s
fingers tapping on Dorcas’ collarbone absentmindedly as she alternated between staring off into the
distance and attempting to look over her study notes about concealment and disguise for Auror
training. They went to the Order meeting together and shared their shock and anger at
Dumbledore’s announcement when they got home. And yet it was just another fear in a mountain
of them, these days, and there wasn’t much room to feel any more scared or angry than they
already did.

That evening, Marlene had kissed Dorcas goodbye as she threw her jacket on, telling her that she
should be back by the time Dorcas was heading to bed, before leaving for her parent’s house. She’d
have dinner with them, she said, and stay for a few hours just in case. Dorcas would’ve
accompanied her, but she was supposed to be on call for the Order, so she stayed at home with her
book, her phoenix pendant laying against her sternum, ready to alert her if there was an emergency.

Darkness had just fallen when the pendant began to burn against Dorcas’ skin, and in the soft
lamplight, she read out the etched message: SOS - McKinnon house . Even as she stared at it, it
began to fade back into the metal. She was frozen for a split second, then she leapt up, fear
coursing through her veins as she threw her book aside and grabbed her wand off the coffee table.
She sprinted out of the flat, locked the door with a charm, then turned on the spot, disapparating
while thinking of Marlene’s childhood home in the suburbs of Oxford.

Dorcas was the first one to appear on the scene. She knew that she was supposed to wait for the
other Order members to arrive before investigating the situation further, but as soon as she
apparated onto the sidewalk outside of the McKinnon house, her hand going to the fence to steady
herself, Dorcas knew that something terrible had happened. She wrenched open the gate, barely
even registering the Dark Mark high in the sky above the house, and ran through the garden path
and up the low steps to the front door, which was hanging off its hinges. She blasted it out of her
way and raced inside, where everything was deathly quiet.

Dorcas ran into the sitting room but had to steady herself, her hand on the doorway, holding herself
up as she took in the sight of the destroyed room. The Death Eaters had clearly blasted everything
out of their way upon entering. However, it was only when she took in the whole room that her
hand went up to cover her mouth, stifling the scream that tried to escape her, her eyes filling with
tears. There, on the floor, next to the overturned coffee table, was the body of a boy lying on his
back, his eyes open and glassy, staring up at the ceiling. His face was slashed, his body bruised and
bloody. Tyler...he looked smaller in death. He’d only been sixteen. Dorcas had known him ever
since he’d been born, had watched him grow up. Now, he was dead, his whole future snuffed out in
a moment.

Dorcas pushed herself off the doorway and walked over to him, sliding his eyelids closed with her
fingertips. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, taking a few deep, steadying breaths to
ward off the rising tide of anguish threatening to engulf her. She didn’t have time to grieve now.
She had to find the rest of the family. She had to find Marlene. She stood and raised her wand to
light her way as she moved toward the doorway into the dining room.

Once her eyes had adjusted to the dimness, they took in another horrible scene. On the table lay
smashed dishes—the remnants of dinner. She wondered if they’d been caught by surprise while
eating. On the ground were the bodies of Marlene’s parents, just as staring and glassy-eyed as their
son, with looks of shock on their lined faces. Dorcas choked back a sob, her body shaking with
suppressed tears. Unlike their son’s, John and Imogen McKinnon’s bodies were unmarked.

Dorcas could imagine what had happened, then. In her mind’s eye, she pictured the Death Eaters
breaking in, busting down the front door, and appearing suddenly in the dining room, killing John
and Imogen before any of them knew what was happening. The destruction of their protective
enchantments had set off the wards around their house, sending an alarm signal to the rest of the
Order, but not soon enough for help to come. Dorcas saw Marlene and Tyler drawing their wands
to duel the Death Eaters, their rage and grief fueling their magic, though they must’ve been vastly
outnumbered. The Death Eaters must’ve backed them into the sitting room, Dorcas supposed, and
she followed her image of the scene back into the room where Tyler’s body lay motionless. After a
fight, they’d managed to kill Tyler, too.

Dorcas imagined Marlene backing down the hallway from the sitting room, still casting spells
toward the advancing, masked wizards, fury in her eyes even as tears ran down her face. Dorcas
raised her wand high, letting the light illuminate the path ahead of her as she walked down the
corridor, dreading what she might see next. She sped up, her feet carrying her past bloodstains on
the carpet. Where are you, Marlene? she thought desperately. Please be alive, please.

At the end of the hallway, the door to Marlene’s old bedroom was wide open, and Dorcas followed
the trail toward the room, imagining Marlene shooting hex after hex at the approaching wizards as
she backed away, trying to find a way to escape. At first, she couldn’t comprehend the sight that
met her eyes, as her wandlight illuminated the features of the room in front of her. Then, Dorcas
fell to her knees, a silent scream stretching her mouth wide as she collapsed onto the floor, tears
streaming down her cheeks at last.

Marlene’s body was propped up, her back resting against the side of her bed, facing the door. Her
blue eyes were open and stared straight ahead, right at Dorcas, but her gaze was blank, her eyes
sightless. Wisps of her blonde hair stuck to her forehead, damp with sweat and blood, which still
trickled from a long slash on her cheek. Tear tracks ran down her pale, freckled face, though her
expression still held the remnants of her last look of defiance. Her arms were limp by her sides, her
wand several feet away from her right hand, and one knee was bent while the other leg stretched
out loosely in front of her.

Dorcas could now see the way the story had ended: saw Marlene falling back, tripping as she
entered her room and dropping her wand as she collapsed, looking up at her attackers in one last
moment of resistance as she refused to show her fear, refused to beg. Then, Dorcas saw the green
light flash through the room as Marlene went limp, the light leaving her blue eyes. With all
Marlene’s worry that she wasn’t brave enough, her courage had come when it mattered, after all.
She’d stared straight into the face of death and not flinched.

Dorcas crawled across the floor to Marlene, reaching out to her as she sobbed. She moved behind
Marlene, her arms wrapped around her girlfriend’s lifeless body, cradling her. Her skin was still
warm. Dorcas clutched at Marlene’s hair, clutched at her arms, praying that she’d wake back up
and hold her, too, even as she knew that it was too late. Dorcas began to wail, a gut-wrenching,
hollow sound of loss that she couldn’t stop herself from making, even though she knew it would
carry to neighboring houses, even though she knew it was dangerous. She couldn’t bring herself to
care about danger. She was past danger at that point. She had nothing else to lose that could
compare to this. The agony she felt at that moment was more than she’d ever felt in her whole life,
more than she thought she could survive.

That was how Sirius found her, cradling Marlene’s body in her arms and sobbing uncontrollably.
Sirius, through his own tears, couldn’t manage to pull her away from Marlene, and she was
inconsolable. It took both Benjy and Gideon to pry Dorcas from Marlene’s body, and when they
did, she screamed and fought them tooth and nail for a few moments until she simply went limp in
their arms, stolen away from them by shock, or grief, or whatever else was destroying her from the
inside out.

Dorcas had woken up the next morning in her own bed, back at her flat, but without Marlene by her
side. For the first second after waking, she hadn’t known the reason for the awful ache in her heart,
the feeling of absence. She opened her eyes to see Sirius by her bedside, his eyes red and puffy as
he stared at her with pure anguish written all over his face. As she met his gaze, she remembered
the night before, and sobs racked her body again. He leaned forward, enclosing her in a hug as she
shook and sobbed into his shoulder. Hours later, when Dorcas stopped crying, she simply curled up
in her bed, her eyes staring blankly ahead of her at the opposite wall. Nothing anyone said could
make her move that first day, except to drink water and go to the loo.

The following afternoon, it was Lily who gently coaxed Dorcas out of bed, having been approved
to attend the funeral by Dumbledore, her and James’ first time out of the house since they’d gone
into hiding. She helped Dorcas wash and dress and didn’t force her to eat more than the few bites
of toast she managed before her stomach began to roil in protest. Then, she took her hand, and they
left the flat together, apparating to Marlene’s family’s home in Ireland. It was there where
Marlene’s body would be laid to rest, alongside the rest of her family, and that was where the wake
was to be held.

When they appeared in the fresh air of the Irish countryside, Dorcas took a deep breath before
opening her eyes. The air tasted sweet and clean, far away from the noise and bustle of cities.
When Dorcas opened her eyes, her gaze fixed immediately upon the house which lay in the
distance, a few minutes' walk from where they’d apparated. It was where Marlene’s grandparents
lived, where Marlene had brought Dorcas when she’d met her family the previous year. In there,
Dorcas knew, Marlene’s body lay, alongside the rest of her family. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if
she wanted to step foot into that house.

Lily didn’t speak, but she looped her arm through Dorcas’, beginning to lead her towards the
cottage. She must know that Dorcas needed someone to guide her, that she couldn’t make herself
step toward the house on her own. She’d rushed into Marlene’s house in Oxford without hesitation,
but in that instance, she hadn’t known what she’d find. Now she knew, and it was only Lily’s
presence beside her that made her keep moving forward.

When they reached the door, it was Lily who knocked, but Dorcas didn’t hear the sound. She
watched as a woman opened the door—Marlene’s aunt—and greeted them, beckoned them inside,
and yet even as her lips moved, the words didn’t reach Dorcas’ ears. She allowed Lily to lead her
over the threshold, felt the warmth of Marlene’s aunt’s hand on her other shoulder, but she didn’t
respond to anyone.

The house was crowded with Marlene’s remaining cousins, aunts, and uncles, as well as her friends
who’d already arrived. Dorcas saw James there, sitting beside Kieran, and Hestia and Emmeline,
talking to Tierney, who looked somehow much older than when Dorcas had last seen her. Her little
face was pinched as if trying to push back tears, and her dark brown hair—much like her older
sister’s—was pulled back in a braid. She looked up at Dorcas as she entered and recognition
flickered in her eyes, but she looked away. Kieran glanced at her too, as James looked up at them,
but if he said anything, Dorcas didn’t hear it. James stood to hug Dorcas, and she allowed him to
envelop her in his arms, her hands linking feebly around his waist. When he let go, he looked away
from her to Lily, a question and a look of concern in his eyes, but Lily shook her head.

Dorcas looked past them, over Lily’s shoulder, and her breath caught in her throat. Four open
coffins lay next to the windows, on the far side of the sitting room. She turned and walked past
Lily toward them, her pace slow and almost dream-like as she approached the nearest one. It was
Tyler’s. He looked even smaller than she’d remembered him when she’d found him lying on the
floor in the McKinnon’s sitting room. His face was no longer bruised and bloody, and his eyes
were closed, his long lashes standing out against his pale skin. He looked as if he could be
sleeping. To his right, in a larger coffin, lay Imogen McKinnon, her face slack and peaceful, a ray
of sunlight cascading over it. On her other side lay her husband, John, the worry lines in his
forehead smooth, looking untroubled in death. A tear ran down Dorcas’ cheek, all the way to her
jaw, and dropped to the floor.

Her gaze moved reluctantly to Tyler’s other side, and there was Marlene. Her blonde hair lay loose
in a halo around her face. Someone had closed her eyes, and her slack face had lost the last dregs of
defiance it’d held upon her death. Her cheeks were pale, and her freckles stood out against them,
the only color that remained. She wore the same clothes she’d died in, though they were clean
now. Dorcas was glad that no one had tried to dress her up, at least, nor to add rouge to her cheeks
or do her hair in some strange way. She would’ve looked like an imposter, then, not like Dorcas’
Marlene. Still, she didn’t look much like her Marlene, anyway, with all color drained out of her.
The peaceful look on her face felt foreign. Marlene never looked like that. Even in sleep, Marlene
had smiled and sometimes even cried. She’d always had some look on her face, something to tell
Dorcas how she was feeling, or what she was thinking of. Not like this. Marlene was distant, gone
from her body, and nothing Dorcas could do would bring her back.

Dorcas wished she could go back and memorize all the little details of Marlene, just to make
absolutely certain that she wouldn’t be able to forget them, even if she tried. Things like the way
Marlene’s hair had whipped back as she played Quidditch, the fierce smile she wore, the sparkle in
her blue eyes as she teased one of her friends, or the way the corner of her mouth would twitch up
when she looked at Dorcas. Other things, too, that felt less tangible, like the way she’d smile when
Dorcas kissed her, so Dorcas could feel it against her lips. The way she said, “I love you.” The way
she held Dorcas in the night, and how it felt when Dorcas woke up to Marlene’s lips pressing softly
against her forehead as she left. The lone daisy lying on her pillow.

These things couldn’t be captured in any photograph, and there was no trace of them in Marlene’s
pale face as she lay there, distant from the world. Another tear slipped down Dorcas’ cheek, but
this one didn’t fall to the ground, and she didn’t wipe it away. She didn’t look away from
Marlene’s body, either, only sat down in the open chair next to her and continued to gaze at her
blank face.

More people filtered in, one by one, including Remus, Sirius, Mary, Peter, and Dorcas’ parents.
Diana and Thomas Meadowes both tried to coax their daughter away from her silent vigil at
Marlene’s side, but she didn’t hear their words, and only shook her head in response. She wouldn’t
leave. Many members of the Order came to pay their respects, too, as well as a few of Marlene’s
friends from the Auror office. Dorcas registered their presence but only nodded if they came to
express their condolences. Most stayed away, anyway, afraid to approach her bubble of grief.

As the afternoon turned to nightfall, Marlene’s aunt took a seat near Dorcas, next to her sister’s
coffin. She didn’t say anything, and Dorcas was glad of it. Sirius, too, joined Dorcas, but he didn’t
try to intrude on her either. Hours passed, and people moved around her, but Dorcas didn’t shift her
position, sometimes looking at Marlene’s face, sometimes looking out the window toward the
shadowy cemetery that stood in the distance, waiting for the morning, when it’d steal Marlene and
her family away.

When the sun rose over the countryside and came back to illuminate Marlene’s face again, Dorcas
felt as if a change had occurred over her features, making her look even more distant than ever. It
was as if she was falling deeper and deeper into Death’s clutches, traveling further down a path of
no return, and Dorcas was watching her go. When Marlene’s aunt rose beside Dorcas, her face set,
Dorcas didn’t need to hear her words to know that it was time. She watched as the lid of the coffin
closed over Marlene’s face for the last time, and a sob rose up in her throat that she quickly
clamped down upon.

The procession was quiet as they carried the four coffins across the field toward the family
cemetery. They didn’t use magic, as there were enough family and friends who’d stayed to carry all
of the McKinnons without it. Dorcas walked alongside them, as she’d been shooed away when
trying to help. Lily held her hand again instead, and she watched as James, Sirius, Remus, and
Emmeline carried Marlene toward her final resting place, with the help of Florence and Marcus,
who’d turned up at dawn to pay their respects.

Fleetingly, a picture of Marlene flashed through Dorcas’ mind, hoisted onto James’ shoulders after
a Quidditch match, dried blood forming a path between her nose and mouth, a brilliant grin on her
face, with her hand held high in the air in victory. The picture faded, and Dorcas was left staring at
the coffin, tears clouding her vision.

She looked ahead, away from Marlene’s coffin to the front, where her mother was helping to carry
Imogen’s coffin while her father was aiding with John’s. Behind them, Kieran and Tierney were
each holding a corner of Tyler’s coffin, Hestia and Mary helping them, along with two people
Dorcas’ didn’t recognize, but who were surely family members. Kieran’s face was pinched, just
like his sister’s, squinting as if he was trying to hold back his tears. Tierney was pale, and tears
were already falling silently down her cheeks, though she looked like she was trying her best to
ward them off, blinking rapidly as if she’d be barred from holding her cousin’s coffin if someone
observed her grief.

The coffins were set down next to one another on an open patch of ground, free of gravestones. A
few paces away was a patch of fresh grass covering another new grave, a gravestone placed at its
head: Bridget’s grave. Dorcas had attended her funeral only five months ago, where she’d held
tightly to Marlene’s hand as sobs racked her girlfriend’s body. At the base of Bridget’s gravestone
lay a woven cross, with four branches extending from the square in its center. St. Brigid’s Cross,
Marlene had told her. The life-giver. It’d been woven out of rushes, and Dorcas could see, even a
few yards away, that it wasn’t the same one that Tierney had placed on Bridget’s grave the
morning of her funeral, as it looked far fresher than five months of weather would’ve allowed.
Tierney must have replaced it with a new one recently.

Turning back toward the crowd, Dorcas watched as several of the adults raised their wands, and in
unison, four mounds of earth were scooped out of the ground next to each other, one for each of the
McKinnons. Then, they stood back. Dorcas’ mother moved to her side, putting her arm around her
daughter. Lily didn’t leave her other side, and James came to stand beside her. There was a
moment when everyone stood silently by the graves, looking at the coffins that would soon be laid
to rest in them. It was Marlene’s grandmother who broke the heavy silence at last.

“My daughter,” she began, her voice worn with age but sounding unnaturally loud to Dorcas’ ears
after the long silence. “She never wanted what I thought was best for her.” She looked down at the
coffin which held Imogen McKinnon and shook her head, then looked back up at them.

“When she was a little girl, she already started wandering from our place here. I’d find her in our
woods, looking for some way to the outside world and trying to cross over. She surprised me that
way, sure, because her siblings never tried the same things, but I let her explore. I sent her off for
school, let her leave this place we’ve always been, and she always came back here with her stories
for me.”

The old woman wasn’t crying, but she looked very tired, worn down by the exhaustion of grief.
Raising her hands, she gestured at all four coffins.

“She met her man there, and he surprised me, too,” she continued, a flicker of a smile quirking at
the corner of her lips. “He’d big dreams in him I thought were unrealistic, ideals I thought were too
big for the likes of us. But I let her go since she’d always had those dreams in her, too. She went to
England, and she learned things, and she’d children herself. When she’d come back here, she’d tell
me how they explored, how they got into heaps o’ trouble, and the crazy dreams they had in them.
I laughed at her ‘cause she’d been just like them. And I loved them, too, just like I loved her.”

She looked down, closed her eyes, and let out a long sigh, which sounded like a breeze rushing
through long grass. “Now,” she said, her voice leaden with grief. “Now I’m burying my daughter.
I’m burying her man, who loved every crazy, dreaming part of her. I’m burying her two children,
just like I buried another grandchild this year. I’m burying them all now, with all their dreams they
died for.”

Dorcas continued to watch Marlene’s grandmother, expecting her to say something else, but she
was silent, her eyes closed. Everyone was silent. Dorcas could hear the sounds of birdsong from
the trees for the first time, along with the rustling of leaves, and the sounds of the people near her
shifting around on the ground. Someone sniffled quietly. The sun had risen higher in the sky, and
the rays shone down upon them, warming the dry earth. Dorcas still felt cold, however, distant
from the perfect summer’s day around her. She thought fleetingly that Marlene would’ve loved it.

Someone else began to speak, an older man who Dorcas thought might belong to Marlene’s
father’s family, judging by the similarities in the shape of his nose and the arch of his eyebrows.
Perhaps an older brother, or a cousin…she knew that Marlene had barely ever known her father’s
family. They weren’t as numerous as the Kenneys—her mother’s family—nor as welcoming. They
hadn’t liked Marlene’s father’s ideals, and never supported his activism. Nevertheless, one of them
had still wanted to say goodbye. Words drifted to Dorcas from the man’s speech, but she wasn’t
truly listening. She was looking back towards Marlene’s coffin, closed and laying on the ground
next to what would be her grave. Dread filled Dorcas as she thought of how soon they’d have to
part forever. Tears welled in her eyes, and she blinked, allowing them to cascade over the dried tear
tracks on her already puffy face.

Dorcas took a while to register the silence that had fallen after the man had stopped speaking.
When she did, a flood of panic rushed through her. It was now Marlene’s turn. Someone would
give her eulogy next. If Bridget had been alive, she would’ve spoken for Marlene, but she was
gone, too. Dorcas knew that it should be her. She should speak; she should tell them about
Marlene, about how she’d lived, how she’d burned so brightly, and been taken so quickly. But she
couldn’t.

She couldn’t speak, she couldn’t open her mouth, couldn’t form the words. There were no words
for Marlene, no words that would do her justice or be able to express the gaping hole inside of
Dorcas in her absence…none that could be spoken in front of her family, none that could be heard
by anyone except herself. She couldn’t get her lips to move, and her throat had constricted,
silencing any effort to try. She stood there, frozen. The silence stretched.

Finally, someone cleared their throat from the other side of the graves, and Dorcas’ gaze flicked up
to see Sirius. His face was pale, grey eyes rimmed with red, and he met her gaze across the coffins
as if he could read her mind and say the things she wasn’t able to.

“I met Marlene on the Hogwarts Express, on our first day at school,” Sirius started. “I liked her as
soon as I met her. She was wild, funny, ready for anything, and fiercely loyal to her friends.” He
paused. “Stubborn,” he added, grinning slightly, though his smile was shadowed with grief. He
looked at Dorcas, and the sorrow in his eyes deepened. “Fearless,” he said quietly.

Dorcas’ throat constricted. Marlene’s words echoed back to her in her mind: “You were always
more fearless than I could’ve ever hoped to be.”

“Over the course of the time that I knew her, Marlene changed the least out of any of my friends,”
Sirius continued, his voice louder again. “She matured a bit, sure, got a little more open-minded
and a little less arrogant. But mostly, I learned more about who she already was. I learned that she
wasn’t fearless, but she was always brave.”

Dorcas felt new tears fall down her cheeks, and she swallowed, giving a small nod. Sirius looked
around at James, at Lily, at all their friends, then his eyes fell back on Dorcas.

“I saw her fall in love, and learned how much love she had to give,” he said softly.

Dorcas choked back a sob as her body shook, and her mother’s arm tightened around her, steady
and comforting.

“I saw her fight,” Sirius continued. “And knew how much she cared about what she was fighting
for, about how much bravery she mustered up every day to keep fighting.” He paused and sighed,
looking down at Marlene’s coffin, and closed his eyes briefly, before looking back up at the people
surrounding him. “She didn’t want to fight,” he said. “She didn’t want to have to. But she did.”

There was a long silence, so long that Dorcas thought for a moment that Sirius would leave it at
that, but he continued, his voice low and heavy with grief. “She didn’t want to die,” he said. “She
shouldn’t have died. She deserved so much more…so much—” He broke off and wiped his eyes
quickly with the back of his shirtsleeve. He cleared his throat again.

“Marlene lived every day with an amount of fervor that most people can’t muster up over the
course of a whole month. She was—she was incredible. She was one of my best friends.” His voice
broke, and he looked at the ground for his last words, which were spoken so softly that it was
almost a whisper: “I’ll always miss her.”

He fell into silence, wiping his face with his hand, brushing away the tears there. When he finally
looked up, he met Dorcas’ gaze, and she nodded, trying to express her gratitude for saying what
she hadn’t been able to say. He gave her a small nod back, and she closed her eyes, letting the tears
flow from behind her lashes.

Dorcas listened as Kieran spoke about Tyler, his voice full of tears and sounding so young. Tyler
and Kieran had been like Marlene and Bridget, Dorcas knew, close in age and as close as siblings
when they were able to see one another. Dorcas had been close with Tyler, too. She’d been five
years old when he’d been born, and while at first, Marlene had resented having a younger sibling
taking up her parents’ attention, Dorcas had always adored having him around. She’d watched him
grow up, and now he lay cold next to Marlene, still a child, really, killed in a war that he hadn’t
been old enough to even fight in yet.

When the silence fell after Kieran finished, it fell for good that time. No one else would speak.
Dorcas didn’t want to open her eyes, didn’t want to see what would happen next, but she had to.
She watched as several of the wizards around her raised their wands, and the four coffins lifted into
the air. In unison, they drifted to the right, hovering over their graves, then were lowered into the
ground.

Dorcas didn’t take her eyes off Marlene’s coffin as it was lowered. She watched as it was deposited
gently at the bottom of the grave. She watched as the mound of earth rose again and fell slowly
back into the grave that it’d come from, hiding the coffin from sight. She watched as the surface of
the earth was smoothed over, and the gravestone was laid to rest at its head. On the smooth stone,
Marlene’s name was etched, along with the dates of her birth and death. Below them lay a carving
of a complex knot, chosen by Marlene’s remaining family, along with Dorcas, James, and Sirius. It
was the Dara Knot: a symbol of strength. None of them had been able to think of words to place on
her tombstone, so they’d chosen this instead. It felt right, anyway.

Dorcas looked back at the smooth earth over Marlene’s grave as more tears cascaded down her
cheeks. Her hand went up to cover her mouth, to hold back the sobs as she looked at the place
under which Marlene lay, lost to Dorcas, and yet still so close. It was summer, so the earth should
be warm. Still, Dorcas couldn’t help but feel that Marlene would be cold down there. She stared at
the earth covering Marlene’s grave, fighting the sudden urge to rush toward it and dig Marlene up
again, or else be buried alongside her. She couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Marlene alone…of
Marlene leaving her alone.

At the end of the ceremony, people began to trickle away. Dorcas stayed, still staring down at the
grave, unable to move from that spot. She felt the people around her leave. She registered James
and Lily exchanging unspoken communication, and felt Lily’s hand squeezing hers, then departing.
Her mother gently removed her arm from around Dorcas, pressing a kiss to her temple as she
moved away, heading after them back to the house. They’d wait for her, she knew. Perhaps
someone would watch her figure through a distant window, trying to decide the appropriate
amount of time to leave her alone with Marlene’s grave before they came to retrieve her again.

Once the sounds of the others’ footsteps faded, Dorcas sank to her knees on the freshly compacted
earth in front of Marlene’s headstone. She traced her fingers over the words etched into it, feeling
the ridges underneath her fingers of Marlene’s name, her birth and death dates, and the Dara Knot.
She imagined her fingers brushing through Marlene’s hair, just as they brushed over the cold stone,
and grief threatened to engulf her again.

“How could you leave me?” were the first words out of Dorcas’ mouth as she stared at Marlene’s
name on the stone. They came out with a rush of breath, almost a whisper, sounding scratchy with
the disuse of her vocal cords. It was only then that Dorcas began to truly sob. Her body shook with
the force of her tears, and she made a low, keening noise in her throat as she kneeled over the
grave.

“You said we were permanent,” Dorcas said, her words interspersed with sobs as she addressed the
headstone. “And now you’re gone, and I don’t know how to be without you. I don’t know how to
live my life without you in it. You’ve always been here.”

Her voice shook so much that she had to stop, and her breath came out in pants. Darkness crowded
her vision, but she fought to keep conscious, to push back the veil that threatened to come over her.
She dug her fingers into the earth around her for balance and tried to breathe. She couldn’t faint;
she couldn’t stand to wake up and have Marlene’s tombstone be the first thing she saw. She
couldn’t stand to have other people discover her, other hands touch her and people remark in
concern, asking her if she was alright. Dorcas wasn’t alright. She wasn’t.

“There isn’t a word for the hole you left in my life,” Dorcas continued, wiping away the fresh tears
on her face with dirt-stained hands. “It’s just silence. I’m just alone now. How could you leave me
alone?”

She stared down at Marlene’s gravestone again, tears sliding down her face as a mixture of anger,
terror, and deep sadness rushed through her. She shook her head and tried to wipe away the tears
again. She looked down at her hands, muddy from the dirt and her tears, and shook her head in
disgust at herself and her words.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to the grave. “I know it’s not your fault. I just love you too much. I
don’t want to have to learn to live in a world without you. I’ve never done it before.”

Her heart ached at the thought, and her voice sounded small, like that of a child. She felt like a little
girl again, like when she’d been so angry at Marlene for leaving to visit Ireland without her when
they’d been ten and refused to speak to her. In reality, she’d just been afraid to face the world for
even a month without her best friend. Now, Dorcas was faced with the rest of her life…the rest of
her life that she’d live without Marlene, who was gone and could never return. Dorcas shook her
head and pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes, trying to block it out, to stop herself from
wailing again. Little stars popped in front of her vision, and the tears were delayed for a moment, at
least.

Hurriedly, Dorcas got to her feet, holding the grief at bay with an iron fist. She refused to look at
the grave as she brushed the dirt off her clothes, but she couldn’t leave without giving Marlene’s
resting place a last glance. When her eyes finally fell again on the headstone, she had to clench her
jaw and clasp her hands tightly together to hold back the tears. She blinked and glanced away, then
back again.
“Goodbye, Marlene,” she said finally, her throat so constricted that it came out in a croak. Then,
she turned on her heel, fingers rubbing a familiar spot on her palm as she walked away from the
grave, trying to hold down her grief and refusing to look back. If she did, she thought she might be
buried, too.

....

Lily insisted on apparating back to Dorcas’ flat with her and seeing her settled in before she left.
James came, too, staying mostly silent with his eyes on the floor, face puffy with tears. Dorcas
convinced them to leave after ten minutes, and Lily did so reluctantly, James leading her away. He
looked back at Dorcas from the doorway, however, after Lily had apparated away.

“I—” he started, then broke off and sighed. “If you need anything, let me know,” he said a little
awkwardly, his hand going to his hair before dropping by his side, a sign of nervousness, Dorcas
knew. Dorcas nodded, trying to shut the door on him, but James put a hand on it, preventing her
from doing so.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Dee,” he said softly. He looked down at her with such tenderness
in his hazel eyes, and it made her want to scream, but she nodded.

“I know,” she said hollowly. He looked at her for another long moment, then shook his head, tears
filling his eyes again. Dorcas wondered what he saw when he looked at her now: the person she’d
been or the reminder of loss she’d become.

“Come and visit soon, yeah?” he asked.

Dorcas nodded, knowing that she might be flat-out lying, but just wanting him to leave. James
hesitated for a moment longer, then nodded and allowed Dorcas to close the door on him. After a
moment, she heard him sigh through the closed door, and then the small pop that indicated that
he’d gone.

Dorcas leaned back against the door and let out a long breath. She stared at the empty flat, which
stared back at her, as if it was wondering what to do now, too. Suddenly, her knees gave away
under her, and she slid to the ground, curling in on herself. She hugged them to her and buried her
face in them. Her breathing came out in rasps, the only sound in the quiet flat. Just more silence to
deal with. She’d have to get used to it, as it would be her constant companion for the rest of her
life: silence in the space where Marlene had been.

Dorcas forced herself up again, pushing off the floor and walking into the kitchen. As she passed
the mirror on the wall in the sitting room, she started, seeing her reflection for the first time since
the previous day. Her face was smudged with dirt from Marlene’s grave. She looked down at her
hands and found that they were still smeared with earth, too. In the hallway, she saw a trail of the
stuff following her from the door: not much, just a sprinkling, but enough to remind her where
she’d just come from. The grave had followed her here, even though Marlene couldn’t.

Dorcas turned to the sink and began to rinse her hands clean, watching the muddy water flow down
the drain. She dried them on a dish towel hanging from the oven. It’d been hanging there when
Marlene had still been alive, Dorcas realized, just days ago. She felt as if it was expecting her back,
like the whole flat was waiting to hear Marlene’s familiar footsteps in the hall. It was like an
obedient dog, waiting for its owner to arrive back from a trip, but it’d eventually come to
understand, after days or weeks, that Marlene wouldn’t return…just like Dorcas would have to.

Dorcas reached into the cabinet for a mug and moved to the sink again to get herself some water.
She watched as the slow stream reached the top, then began to overflow, shaking herself and
moving to turn the tap off, pouring a bit out, then lifting it to her lips. She took a large gulp,
swallowed, then looked down at the mug in her hands. It was Marlene’s favorite, with a logo of a
wizarding band emblazoned upon it in neon green. Dorcas had told Marlene that it was an eyesore
when she’d seen it in a shop on Diagon Alley, but Marlene had bought it anyway, laughing and
telling Dorcas: “Well, you don’t have to use it, then!”

The memory of Marlene’s laugh echoed in Dorcas’ mind, along with her words, which sounded
jovial and had been spoken through a grin. It felt so real, to remember her like that. Marlene still
felt so close, and yet she was far away, where Dorcas could no longer reach her.

The mug slipped from Dorcas’ slack grasp and shattered on the floor. The sound was loud and
startling and seemed to echo in Dorcas’ mind. She swore and stared down at it, the pieces covering
the floor around her, water trickling from them. She couldn’t bring herself to crouch down beside
them, couldn’t make herself take out her wand or repair them. Something inside of her felt as if it’d
broken with the mug, her floodgates opening. But this time, instead of crying, Dorcas screamed.
Her scream rang out, loud and piercing, her voice reverberating through the flat, shaking
bookshelves and pictures on the wall, blowing through curtains, and making the door to her and
Marlene’s bedroom door slam open against the wall.

Pieces of parchment flew from the coffee table and scattered over the floor, blown by the same
invisible wind as everything else. The floor shook, and Dorcas pressed her hands to the sides of her
head, trying to calm down. Though the silencing spell cast on the whole flat would muffle the
noise, the shaking would be felt throughout the building. She fell to the ground, her knees making
contact with the floor, with the shards of broken mug still laying on it. The shaking began to cease,
but Dorcas didn’t stop trembling. She was crying now, crying again, the dirt from Marlene’s grave
sliding off her face and back onto her hands as mud once more.

Something felt so wrong within her. Some place where Marlene had been—where Marlene’s magic
had been—was missing. Her whole being felt different. Doing wandless magic without Marlene
felt strange. Something had shifted, and Dorcas didn’t know how to get it back. She couldn’t get it
back. Dorcas shook and shook, unable to stop herself, unable to break herself out of this reality she
was in. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut, and she wished that she could just stop thinking, stop
feeling, stop knowing what had happened, and how it could never be reversed.

A long while later, Dorcas thought, her body’s shaking slowed to a soft tremble, and she opened
her eyes once again. She became aware of the pain in her knees and looked down to find the shards
of the mug that she was kneeling on. Gingerly, she lifted up her legs and removed the shards. She
stood and began to collect them in her hands, placing them on the counter. She’d fix it later. Her
knees weren’t bleeding much, but she grabbed a bottle of dittany from under the sink and put a few
drops of the wounds, making them scab over immediately.

Then, Dorcas looked up at the flat. There were things strewn everywhere, pictures hanging
crookedly on the walls, and pieces of paper littering the floor. She moved over to one, looking
down at it blankly, forgetting for a moment what it was. As she crouched down beside it, she
remembered: it was a page of Marlene’s notes on concealment and disguise from the Auror office,
the ones she’d been studying the day she’d died. The top half of the page was taken up with
Marlene’s familiar, messy scrawl of normal notes and bullets, but the bottom half was covered in
abstract doodles and shapes. Four words lay on the very last line of the page, a preoccupied little
note that Marlene must’ve written for herself the day she’d died. It read: “spy in the order.” Dorcas
stared at it for a long moment, uncomprehending, trying to muster up sense and understanding
from those words, written in Marlene’s hand.

When had Marlene written this? Why had she written it? Dorcas had certainly not seen her do it, or
 perhaps not remembered, but here it was in Marlene’s hand: perhaps the last thing she’d written
before she died. Perhaps it’d just been a preoccupied little note, a way for Marlene to get the day’s
revelations out of her mind and onto paper, and yet…and yet…

The image of Marlene’s body flashed into Dorcas’ vision, followed quickly by that of Tyler, then
those of Imogen and John as she’d found them that night, strewn across the floor of their home like
discarded toys. A surge of anger rose up in her. Why had it happened? Marlene’s father had given
plenty of speeches condemning Voldemort over the years, and Marlene had been in the Order of
the Phoenix since they’d all graduated from Hogwarts. Yes, she’d killed Evan Rosier, but that had
been more than six months before. Why then?

Marlene’s writing seemed to speak the words back to Dorcas, repeating them over and over in a
whisper. Spy in the Order, the note chanted. Spy in the Order…

Dorcas’ fingers twitched, crumpling Marlene’s notes on concealment and disguise in her hands.
She looked down at the page again, then tore off the bottom, where the cramped words lay. Her
eyes went to the opposite wall, from which a painting had fallen, leaving it bare. Dorcas strode over
to it, pulled out her wand, and stuck the note in the dead center using Sirius’ old patented sticking
charm, then stepped back. The words stared back at her, surrounded by the rest of the blank wall,
demanding more.

Dorcas took a deep, steadying breath. She could do this. She could solve this problem. This could
be her purpose. This could get her out of bed each morning and see her through the day, even if
nothing else would. This could help fill the hole that Marlene had left inside her. Dorcas began to
pace. She’d find out who the spy in the Order of the Phoenix was, and she’d make them pay for
what they’d done to Marlene and her family. She’d uncover the truth, even if it was the last thing
she did.

For much of her life, Dorcas had believed that Marlene was braver than her, and that she’d leave
her behind someday. In the end, she’d been right about the latter, but entirely wrong about the
former. Now, she’d need both of their bravery combined to face what would come.

Chapter End Notes

We all knew this day would come...I feel such grief in writing this, and in posting it.
Now it feels real, like I'm really saying goodbye to Marlene's character. I’ll miss her so
much.
 1981: Come Back When You Can
Chapter Notes

cw: non-major character death, vomiting, very brief allusion to suicide

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Come back when you can

Let go, you'll understand

You've done nothing at all to make me love you less

So come back when you can

- "Come Back When You Can," Barcelona

Remus made his way down a dark London street just after sunset on the last day of July. He held a
note in his hand containing the address that Alaric had reluctantly given him after much
persuasion. Remus wasn’t sure what kind of building he was looking for exactly; Alaric only knew
that it was a meeting place, one where, rumor had it, many werewolves would be gathering that
night. He’d cautioned Remus against going, but Remus hadn’t listened. It was a strange reversal of
their roles, Remus thought, with Alaric cautioning Remus and Remus plowing along recklessly. Of
course, a lot had changed in the past months.

Worries were constant, grief and fear unending. Remus found himself wondering every morning
when he woke up whether that day would be the day he got news of his mother’s passing, or of
another Order member’s. It’d only been two weeks since Marlene’s death, and it pierced Remus
like a knife whenever he thought about it. There were so many times that he was with his friends,
or in a group of Order members, and her absence felt so large it filled up the whole space. Remus
and Marlene had never been close friends, not like she’d been with James or Sirius. Still, Remus
had loved her, like they’d all loved her. She’d been part of his family, the one that he’d found at
Hogwarts. She’d always been there, joking with Sirius, debating something with Lily, or smiling at
Dorcas, an arm wrapped around the shorter girl’s waist. When she’d been torn from their midst, the
place where she’d been had become a ragged hole that they couldn’t fill, and they all felt it.

In the aftermath of the McKinnons’ deaths and the announcement of the spy in the Order, distrust
had bloomed, growing into every crack and crevice it could. Remus saw it in glances between
Order members, heard it in their hesitant conversations and long pauses. No one was sure what
information was important anymore, and no one trusted each other. His chest tightened at the
thought of the look Sirius had given him that evening before he’d left.

“Where are you going?” Sirius had asked, watching Remus zip up his jacket and put on his boots.

Remus had looked up to meet his gaze and found it full of wariness, as if the wrong answer would
confirm all of Sirius’ worst nightmares. Remus had gotten used to that look in the past weeks, but it
always stabbed at him.
“A mission with the wolves,” Remus had replied, raising his eyebrows at Sirius. He hadn’t fully
obeyed Dumbledore’s command to keep quiet about Order duties with everyone except on a need-
to-know basis. Remus felt that he couldn’t afford to where Sirius was concerned. He trusted Sirius,
and if he started keeping things from his boyfriend…well, he didn’t want to make the look of sad
suspicion in Sirius’ eyes any worse.

“Okay,” Sirius had said, not looking particularly reassured. “Will you be back tonight?”

“I’m not sure,” Remus had replied, putting his keys in his pocket and moving toward the door,
though he cast a look over his shoulder at Sirius as he went. “I’ll try.”

Sirius had just nodded, but Remus had felt his grey gaze following him as he shut the door.

So perhaps Remus was doing this risky mission now because he wanted to find something big.
Perhaps he thought that if he gave Dumbledore some good information, it would prove to Sirius
that he wasn’t the spy, that he was to be trusted, for now at least. The doubts would always creep
back in, he knew that. With Sirius, it was inevitable. Even though Remus knew that it wasn’t about
him, it still hurt. It would always hurt.

Remus stopped in front of three dingy buildings and looked down at the piece of paper in his
hands. He was looking for number ninety-four. On his left was number ninety-two, on his right,
number ninety-six. The building directly in front of him didn’t have a number on it, and it looked
abandoned: windows on the ground floor broken, a battered closed sign hanging crookedly on the
door. The sign above the entrance read, in faded letters: Whitechapel Animal Shelter.

Remus let out a soft snort. Well, someone involved with this meeting had a sense of humor, at
least, if perhaps a dark one. He stepped cautiously up the concrete stairs to the entrance and pushed
the door open. It creaked slightly, and Remus winced as he closed it behind him. As soon as he was
inside, Remus could hear the murmur of many voices coming from the floor above, a sound which
must’ve been muted by magic to prevent the meeting from being overheard by passers-by.

He looked around, confirming that the ground floor was abandoned, then moved toward the stairs,
which sagged a bit to one side, clearly worn down by termites, rot, or mere age. He mounted them
anyway, taking care to tread lightly. He didn’t take out his wand, but he put his hand into his jacket
pocket where it lay, wrapping his fingers around the handle. He knew that the werewolves
gathered above wouldn’t take kindly to anyone brandishing a wand in their midst, but if worst
came to worst, Remus might need it.

The voices grew louder as Remus mounted the stairs, and he soon saw that they were coming from
a room at the back, which was filled with light. Remus approached cautiously, trying to peer in
while staying hidden from the view of those inside. The room was large and divided into squares
by several chain-linked fences, which had no doubt been used as kennels when the animal shelter
had been operational. People stood in every corner, crowded up next to one another, and many
were facing the front, where a large, brutal-looking man stood on a concrete block, looking down
at them all. His hair was dark and tangled, eyes sharp as he scanned the room, letting the group fall
into silence as he waited to speak.

Remus felt a shiver run down his spine, and he ducked out of the doorway, pressing his back
against the wall as the werewolf’s eyes moved closer to where he stood. His heart beat fast in his
chest, and he waited for the man to speak.

“Friends,” the man said, his single word ringing through the room and into the hallway where
Remus stood.
His voice was rough, making Remus shiver again, the sound chilling him to the bone. He chanced
a glance back through the doorway and was relieved to see that the large man was no longer
looking his way. The man was smiling, but this only made him look more frightening, as his smile
exposed his sharp canines. Remus ducked in through the door, positioning himself behind a man
about his own height, hoping that he’d conceal Remus from view.

“I’ve waited a long time to see you all together like this,” the man continued. “It’s taken years of
effort to bring us here, years of work seeking all of you out and convincing you to join our cause.
There’s a reason why it’s been so difficult, as we all know well. It’s hard to find people who don’t
want to be found, hard to find people who live in the dark, in shame and in poverty, then even
harder to convince those people that those aren’t the only options for them.”

Despite the rasp of his voice, his words were smooth and persuasive, and Remus could see the
effect they had on the surrounding crowd. A few of the wolves murmured, nodding in agreement.
Some even had tears in their eyes as they looked up at the brutal-faced man. Remus surveyed them,
taking in the ragged clothing many wore, the matted hair and occasional bare feet, and anger rose
up in him, too. They were easy targets, and the man’s speech had clearly been tailored to appeal to
their struggles. Remus looked back up at the man, waiting with dread for what was to come next.

“We’ve lived like this for too long!” the man shouted into the crowd, his fist raised into the air,
eyes blazing. “It’s time for us to come out of the shadows, and show the people who put us there
who should really be ashamed!”

Shouts of agreement tore through the air, and many of the surrounding crowd cheered. Remus’
blood ran cold, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man at the front.

“Who tried to put us in cages and taught us to be afraid of ourselves?” the werewolf shouted into
the crowd, rallying them into a frenzy. “Who made laws to prevent us from ever finding work, so
we would always be begging for scraps on our knees?”

Shouts of anger and threats were screamed into the night in response. The lead werewolf’s gaze
flew across their faces, drinking in their rage with pleasure, and, in the space of a second, before
Remus could duck down out of his sightline, settled on Remus.

“Who told us that we were soulless, evil, and deserved nothing but death?” he shouted into the
crowd, his dark eyes locked on Remus’ blue ones.

A slight smile twitched onto the werewolf’s lips as Remus looked back at him, and in the space of
a second, Remus realized who this werewolf was. As the crowd around him screamed, Remus felt
his stomach drop, a wave of nausea rushing through him. For a moment he couldn’t see or hear the
room around him, as a jumble of confused memories tore him away from reality: the crash of a
breaking window, the sudden cold of the February air on Remus’ exposed skin, a pair of glowing
eyes, inches from him, and then a tearing, wrenching pain in his thigh, forcing a terrified scream
from his lips.

Remus’ vision cleared to find Fenrir Greyback’s dark brown eyes still locked with his, the small
smirk still pulling at the corners of his mouth. Greyback looked away from Remus after a moment
and back around at the crowd.

“Wizards put us where we are today because they were scared of our power,” he continued, his
voice booming through the room. “As they should be. Now, we’ll make them pay in blood for all
their crimes against us until there’s nothing left! We’ll take what we’re owed and then some
because what they took from us can never be repaid!”
Shouts and cheers filled the room, people yelling and raising their fists into the air, demanding
revenge, justice, and repayment for all they’d lost. There were a few who were quiet, some who
held back, but many more screamed, cried, and cheered for the man standing in front of them, and
the promise he made.

Remus felt bile rise in his throat, and he weaved his way through the crowd toward the door. He
raced down the rickety stairs, but he didn’t make it to the street before the nausea overcame him.
Instead, Remus bent over and vomited everything in his stomach onto the cracked linoleum floor at
the base of the staircase. He breathed in and out slowly, one hand clutching the railing of the stairs
for balance as he tried to regain control. Then, the image of Greyback’s smirk popped into his head
again, and he retched once more. Remus had seen and heard many things since he’d joined the
Order of the Phoenix, especially during his missions with the wolves, and yet Greyback’s mocking
repetition of what Lyall Lupin had said to him so many years ago, which had caused him to bite
Remus...it’d been too much.

“Remus?” a female voice sounded above him, making every muscle in Remus’ body tense, panic
going through him again. Greyback had clearly recognized him, but he’d let Remus go. If one of
the other wolves knew that Remus was an enemy, though, there was no telling what they might do.
Remus pushed himself up so that he was standing again, and turned, full of dread, to see who’d
recognized him.

It took a moment for him to take in the sight of the woman standing there, a few steps above him
on the stairs. Shock coursed through him as his gaze trailed over her face, which felt like a memory
from a long-forgotten dream. Her face had been that of a girl the last time he’d seen her, her dark
brown skin smoother and less troubled than that of the woman that stared back at him today. Her
hair had been long before, and she’d kept it in braids most of the time, while now it was short,
curling naturally atop her head. But the most noticeable difference was the scar, which cut a
diagonal slash across her nose and cheeks, slightly raised and darker than the rest of her skin.

“Miranda,” Remus said, his eyes widening as he took in her appearance.

“Hello,” Miranda replied, smiling at Remus and moving down the stairs slowly to stand in front of
him on the ground floor, avoiding the pool of sick. It seemed like a different smile than what he’d
remembered, the edges of the scar straining slightly with the movement, and yet her dimples were
the same as ever.

“What—what are you doing here?” Remus stammered, gaze filled with horror as he looked at her.

She shrugged, still smiling at him, though there was a trace of melancholy in her expression, now.
“I think you can probably guess.”

They ended up at a twenty-four-hour coffee shop a few blocks away, where they were both
comfortable talking freely. It was almost empty, with just a woman behind the counter, and a man
who seemed to be asleep leaning against the window of a booth in the corner. Still, Remus scanned
the area carefully and placed a Muffliato charm around them before he asked Miranda to relay her
story.

“There’s not much to say,” Miranda said, cradling her mug of coffee in her hands and looking
across at him. “I was bitten about a year ago. I don’t remember much, just that I was walking one
night on a full moon, then woke up in St. Mungo’s the next morning. I’m still not really sure what
happened, if it was a planned attack or just someone running around not knowing what they were
doing. Marcus blames himself, of course. He thinks it was retaliation for what we’ve all been doing
for the war effort and says he should’ve never gotten me into it. I told him not to get cocky,
though. Not everything’s about him.”
Remus gave her a feeble smile. He wasn’t sure how Miranda managed to be so cavalier about her
whole life changing.

“Anyway,” Miranda continued. “It took me a couple of months to figure out where other
werewolves frequent and all that, and since then, I’ve been involved.”

“Involved doing what?” Remus asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he looked across at her. He
didn’t want to be suspicious, but after all, she’d just been at a meeting with some of the most
radical werewolves alive today. Of course, he’d been there, too, so maybe he shouldn’t judge too
quickly.

Miranda shrugged. “Whatever I can that will help people,” she replied, meeting his eyes with such
a genuine look that his doubts melted away for the moment. She looked down into her mug, her
expression growing slightly sad. “I’ve got a lot of time on my hands these days and not a lot of
places to go. I got fired from my job at the magical plant nursery I worked at when I got bitten, and
Davey left me, too, after that. He said it was all too much for him.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Miranda,” Remus said, grimacing. He’d never liked Davey Gudgeon much, but
those two had been together since Hogwarts, so it had to be a blow. The fact that she’d lost her job
wasn’t a surprise, though it was no less terrible for that.

“Yeah,” Miranda said, looking up at him, a pained expression on her face. “It’s been hard. I’ve had
to stay with Marcus and Florence, and luckily they’re flush now that both of their Quidditch teams
are doing well in the league, but I hate feeling like a burden.”

“I know how that feels,” Remus said heavily. “I’m almost totally reliant on my friends at this
point.”

Miranda nodded, sighing. “I feel like a child again sometimes.”

Remus was hesitant to ask his next question, but he asked it, anyway. “What about your parents?”

Miranda shrugged, looking away. “They...they’re complicated,” she admitted. “They didn’t want to
see me at all right after I was bitten, but Marcus talked them around. Sometimes my mum still
flinches when she looks at me, though.” Miranda traced her fingers across the long scar on her
face, and when she looked up at Remus, he saw that there were tears in her eyes. “I think it’d be
easier if this wasn’t so visible. It’s the first thing anyone sees when they look at me now. You’re
lucky you don’t have any big scars you can’t hide.”

Remus knew she was right. He’d acquired a few tiny scars on his face over the years, but they
stayed almost invisible against his pale skin, not as large or prominent as the jagged one that cut
across Miranda’s face. All of his bigger scars were on the rest of his body.

“Did it happen when you were bitten?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yeah,” she said, smiling weakly. “I suppose I must’ve put up a fight. Like I said,
though, I don’t remember. I just know that this was here when I woke up the next morning.”

Remus frowned sympathetically, but Miranda seemed not to want to talk about it any longer, as she
sat up straighter, and said: “So, tell me your story, then.”

Remus told it. He hadn’t talked to anyone about what had happened to him in a long time, but
somehow, even though he’d never known Miranda well at Hogwarts, the truth fell easily from his
lips. After staring into the eyes of the werewolf who’d bitten him, the memories were close to the
surface, and it was an expected relief to speak them aloud. Miranda didn’t interrupt, and the look
she gave him afterward, full of understanding rather than pity, felt like a tonic for his unsettled
thoughts.

When Remus finished telling his story, he asked her the question that had been weighing on him
since he’d first seen her. “Why were you at that meeting?”

Miranda gave him a long, searching look, then sighed. “Like I said, I’m trying to help people,” she
said. “Places like that are where you go when you want to talk to other werewolves, so I go to those
types of things. It doesn’t mean that I believe what Greyback said up there.”

“I’m not sure that those are the types of werewolves that want your help,” Remus said, raising his
eyebrows. “If they’re there—”

“Those are exactly the type of werewolves that need help, though,” Miranda interrupted him,
leaning forward slightly, her voice low and earnest. “I know what you think, Remus. I know why
you were there. It was to gather information, right? For Dumbledore?”

Remus hesitated, then nodded. He probably shouldn’t be telling her anything about the Order, but
he guessed that she already knew about it, and anyway, something in him trusted her.

“I’m not saying that’s necessarily wrong,” Miranda said. “But maybe instead of just relaying what
those people are saying, you should think more about why they’re saying it. There’s a reason why
so many werewolves follow Greyback, and it’s because he knows how to exploit their pain. A lot
of the stuff he said tonight was right, and you may not want to admit that, but it’s true. Most
werewolves live in poverty because of wizards. We can’t get jobs, and we’re shunned by society.
The mortality rate is high, too, not just because wizards kill us, but also because many people
decide that they don’t want to go on living like they do.”

Remus thought about how when he was first bitten, a Healer at St. Mungo’s had advised his
parents to let him die rather than live as a monster. His jaw clenched.

“I know all of that, Miranda,” he said, a note of bitterness in his voice. “I’ve lived it too,
remember?”

Miranda looked at him sadly and shook her head. “We’re the lucky ones, Remus,” she said.
“We’re the ones who had people who were still willing to protect us, to love us. Most of those
other wolves at that meeting were abandoned by everyone when they were bitten. That’s why
they’re there, because they need help, and Greyback’s the only one who’s offering it to them.”

Remus stared at her incredulously, anger rising up in him. “Are you defending—”

“I’m not,” Miranda said, cutting him off again and raising her hands placatingly. “I’m just saying
that you shouldn’t write those people off like the rest of the wizarding world. I go there because
those are the people that need my help. I listen to what they have to say and sympathize with what
they want, and why. I don’t disagree that werewolves deserve reparations for what the wizarding
world has done to us, but the point to stress with these people is that following Greyback and
Voldemort isn’t going to give us that. It’s difficult, but I’ve started to build a community.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do, too, Miranda,” Remus said a little defensively. “I’m trying to help
them, not just pass information to Dumbledore about them.”

Miranda raised her eyebrows at him, a wry look on her face.

“Help us, Remus,” she amended. “You’re one of us, too. Approaching other werewolves like a
missionary trying to convert them doesn’t gain you any points. You can’t help if you’re still
viewing other werewolves as monsters, and you as the exception.”

“I don’t think that way much anymore,” Remus muttered, lowering his gaze and feeling ashamed
of himself all of a sudden. “It’s just not easy to shake.”

“I can’t imagine it would be,” Miranda replied, and there was sympathy in her voice, too. “It’s what
you were raised with.”

Remus frowned, not wanting to absorb the truth of her words, and looked down at the coffee mug
in front of him. He hadn’t drunk any of it, and it was cold now.

“I want the war to end as much as the next witch,” Miranda said sadly. “But when I was bitten, I
realized that I could make much more of an impact in trying to help these people than I could by
directly fighting Voldemort. And even if all werewolves decide to switch sides and fight
Voldemort, chances are, the Ministry won’t do anything for us afterward. It’ll be all empty words
and promises of ‘later,’ which really means never, then they’ll shove us back into the shadows.”

Remus shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He didn’t want to admit it, but part of him knew that she
was right. What guarantee did he have that a world without Voldemort would be any better for the
werewolves? No one had ever promised him any such thing. Dumbledore had helped him go to
Hogwarts, but what about Alaric, who’d been kicked out of his home and stopped attending after
he’d been bitten? No one had gone out of their way to help him, no one but Remus…and perhaps
he hadn’t done it for the right reasons, either. Perhaps he was guilty of using the werewolves, too.

“Just think about it,” Miranda said, giving him a small shrug. She leaned back in her chair and
looked over at the clock on the wall. “I should probably get back.”

“Of course,” Remus replied, glancing at the clock, too. It was a quarter to midnight. “I’ll walk you
there.”

They got up and made their way out of the shop together, leaving some Muggle money at the table
to pay for their drinks. They walked the few blocks back to the old animal shelter in silence, and
when they reached it, Miranda stopped, looking up at Remus.

“One more thing,” Miranda said. He waited, and she gave him a sad smile. “Please don’t tell James
about meeting me here.”

“Why not?” Remus asked, frowning. “I told you, James has known about me since second year, he
wouldn’t—”

“I know he wouldn’t care,” Miranda interrupted, shaking her head. “It’s not that. James is my
friend. Even though we haven’t had the chance to speak in a while, he’s still my friend. I know he’s
had a lot on his mind recently.” She paused, and her expression turned somber. “I heard about
Marlene. I’m really sorry, Remus.”

Remus felt a knot rise up in his throat, and he nodded. “I’m sorry, too,” he said, his voice choked
with sudden tears. He’d forgotten for a few hours. It was always worse to be reminded.

“I know what James is like, and I don’t want him to worry about me,” Miranda said. “He’s got
enough to worry about at the moment.”

“That’s fair,” Remus replied.

“I’ll tell him when all of this is over,” Miranda said, a worried crease forming between her
eyebrows. “When we’re all in a better place and we can talk properly again, I’ll explain it all to
him. It’d be nice to see everyone again, anyway. How’s Dorcas coping?”

“She’s…” Remus trailed off. He wasn’t sure how to put into words the anguish he knew Dorcas
was experiencing.

He’d seen her face at Marlene’s funeral, and it’d been pain past endurance to even witness her
grief. Since then, she’d holed herself away, so Remus had only heard reports from James or Lily
once in a while about how she was doing. The last time Remus had spoken to James, he’d looked
so lost as he’d told Remus how he wished he could keep Dorcas’ grief from eating her alive, but
that he had no idea what to do. While no one had seen Marlene’s death coming, now it felt like
they were all just watching Dorcas slowly recede from the world, and they were all powerless to
stop it.

“She’s having a rough time,” was all Remus said after a too-long pause. “We all are.”

“I can imagine,” Miranda said, looking troubled.

Remus gave her a sad smile. It was strange, he thought, that she’d known all these people at
Hogwarts, just like he had, and now, like him, she had to struggle to wrap her head around the fact
that there was a Marlene-shaped space in the universe. And even though she wasn’t as a part of it
as Remus was, it still upset her to think of Dorcas grieving, of James worrying, and of the ragged
hole that had formed in the place where Marlene had been in their lives.

“You really are a good person, Miranda,” Remus said finally. “I wish we’d had more time to get to
know each other at Hogwarts.”

Miranda smiled. “There’s always time now,” she said. “I hope I’ll see you around again soon.”

“I’m sure you will,” Remus said.

Then, with one last smile, Miranda disappeared back into the building, and Remus turned to walk
away, lost in thought.

....

When Remus got back to the flat that night, Sirius was already in bed, but he wasn’t asleep. Remus
wondered whether he’d been waiting for him, too caught up in worry or doubt to drift off. Remus
climbed in next to him, and Sirius sat up, flicking on the lamp and looking over at him. He studied
Remus’ face for injuries but found none.

“Went alright?” he asked, again with a wary look on his face.

Remus sighed. “I suppose,” he said.

He didn’t really want to go into all he’d seen and discovered that night with Sirius, not when Sirius
was looking at him like he was. Sirius studied Remus for a moment longer, then moved back to the
lamp, about to switch it off.

“Do you trust me?” Remus asked suddenly, his voice louder than he’d intended, echoing slightly
off the walls. Sirius froze in the act of flicking off the light switch, but he didn’t look back at
Remus as he responded, plunging them into darkness as he did so.

“I’m trying.”

Remus sighed into the darkness as he lay on his side of the bed and listened to Sirius’ breathing,
knowing that he was still awake, too. Looking up at the shadowy ceiling, Remus thought about
shame. He thought about what Greyback had said to the werewolves, about how wizards had
taught them shame to keep them powerless. He thought about what Miranda had said, about him
needing to see himself as one of the werewolves, rather than the exception.

Sirius had his own shame, too. Remus thought about the symbol at the back of Sirius’ closet,
drawn there by his uncle. He thought about Professor Abbott, who’d lived here, too, and how he’d
refused to speak to Sirius about Alphard. He thought about Sirius, who’d inherited the flat from his
uncle, along with the mark, along with all the shame that his family had passed down to him,
willingly or unwillingly. Now, Sirius carried it with him everywhere he went like a wound, one of
his many scars, or a tattoo. He hadn’t chosen it, it’d chosen him, yet he carried it, and sometimes it
felt like Remus was carrying it, too.

It was Sirius’ shame that told him that he could never be loved, that told him to hold Remus at an
arm’s length, not to trust him. And yet it still stabbed Remus just the same when he asked Sirius if
he trusted him and Sirius couldn’t do any more than try.

Remus knew that that was the best that Sirius could offer him, the most that he could possibly
give. The trouble was, it wasn’t enough. And yet, Remus would accept it anyway. That was his
shame.

....

The next morning, Sirius’ side of the bed was empty, and when Remus walked into the kitchen, he
found a note there saying that Sirius would be gone for the day. It didn’t say where he was going.
Remus sighed and threw the note aside, moving to put the kettle on for tea. Just as he was filling it
with water, he saw a flash of light in the corner of his vision, and dropped the kettle in the sink with
a clang, turning to face whatever it was.

In the middle of the sitting room, much to Remus’ shock, stood a silver Patronus. It was in the
shape of a wolf, and Remus had a moment of panic, wondering if he was hallucinating his own
Patronus standing in front of him. But when it spoke, the voice that issued from its mouth wasn’t
his, but his father’s.

“It’s time,” the Patronus said simply in his father’s deep voice. Then, the wolf dissolved until the
space where it’d stood was empty.

Remus blinked for a moment, staring at the place where it had been, then a wave of terror rushed
through him. He didn’t have time to dwell on the shape of his father’s Patronus, which he’d never
seen before that day, though he knew that it would bother him later. He knew what the message
meant, and he wasn’t going to waste a moment.

Remus rushed back to the bedroom, opened the closet, and threw on the first clothes he could find.
As he moved toward the door, he hesitated, wondering if he should write a note to Sirius, then
decided against it. Sirius’ note had said that he’d be out for the whole day, and Remus really didn’t
want to be thinking about him right then, anyway. He exited the flat, locked the door behind him,
then looked both ways down the corridor before turning on the spot and vanishing into thin air.

Moments later, Remus landed outside the gate of his parents’ house, putting a hand on the fence to
steady himself as he did so. He opened his eyes and looked up at the little house in front of him,
and his heart filled with a deep ache, thinking of what awaited him inside it. He allowed himself a
moment to stand there, breathing in the sweet air of the Welsh countryside, before he opened the
gate and walked up through the garden to the front door. He knocked twice and immediately heard
the sound of his father’s footsteps nearing the door. When Lyall opened it, Remus saw the lines of
sadness etched into his father’s features. Remus couldn’t help but remember the wolf Patronus as
he looked at his father’s lined face, couldn’t help but remember his father’s words that had been
repeated by Greyback the previous night, but he shook the thoughts away. This wasn’t the time.

“Where is she?” Remus asked, searching his father’s eyes. Lyall stood aside to let Remus in, then
jerked his head toward the back door.

“She’s out there,” he said. “She wanted to get some fresh air.”

“Is it—is she—” Remus tried to ask as he stepped inside, his heart beating fast in his chest.

Lyall sighed. “She’ll pass soon,” he said, his voice heavy with sadness. “But I think we’ll have the
rest of the day with her.”

Remus nodded and strode through the sitting room towards the kitchen. His father watched him go,
not moving to follow him. Perhaps Lyall would join them later, Remus thought, after he and his
mother had had some time alone together.

Remus found Hope sitting out on the little patio behind their house, her eyes closed and face
inclined up to the sun. She was wrapped in a blanket, and the chair she was sitting in had obviously
been magically modified by Lyall so that she could recline more comfortably. Seeing her there, her
eyes closed, Remus’ breath caught in his throat. Was his father wrong? Was he too late?

“Mam?” Remus asked, hurrying towards her, his voice coming out higher than he was used to. She
opened her eyes, turned her head slightly to look over at him, and smiled.

“Remus,” she greeted him, stretching her hands out to clasp his as he sat down beside her, his fast
heartbeat calming as his sudden panic faded. He squeezed her hands in his, noticing as he did so
that they were cold to the touch.

“Are you cold?” he asked, looking worriedly at her. “Do you want to go inside?”

“No, no,” Hope said, waving his concern off good-naturedly. “It’s nice out today. I want to enjoy
the sun while I can.”

Remus swallowed, a wave of fear and anguish rising up in him. He looked down at the table beside
her, where a bakestone lay untouched on a plate.

“Do you want me to help you eat?” he asked, looking back up at her. She smiled and shook her
head.

“I’m not hungry,” she said. “Your father went all the way to Cardiff to get these from my favorite
bakery, and yet I can’t bring myself to eat a bite.” She gave him a smile. “Maybe I’ll want it later.”

Remus wanted to tell her that she should eat to keep her energy up, but his words caught in his
throat, and he just stared at her. The words that his father had spoken from his Patronus’ mouth
echoed in Remus’ mind: It’s time.

His mother’s eyes searched his, and she gave his hand a slight squeeze. “I know that you know
what’s going to happen,” she said gently. “I’ve stayed as long as I can.”

“You don’t know that it’s going to happen today,” Remus said, his voice sounding very young, as
if he was pleading with her.

Hope sighed and looked out towards the hills on the horizon. “I woke up this morning with a
peculiar feeling,” she said. “I felt as if I was just a little more separate from the world than I was
yesterday, like I could easily fall away from it. Everything’s very beautiful but distant. I know that
today will be my last day to look at the world. I’m just grateful that I have a warning, so I can
appreciate it one last time.” She looked over at him and smiled a sad smile. “And so I can say
goodbye.”

Remus hadn’t realized that he’d started to cry until she reached up to wipe a tear away from his
cheek. He pressed his face into her hand, trying to hold her there, and shook his head.

“I don’t want you to go,” he said pleadingly, as she dropped her hand to her side, apparently too
exhausted to hold it there for long.

Hope looked at him, and her brown eyes filled with tears, too. “I know,” she said. “I don’t want to
go, either. I’m just so tired.”

Remus nodded, not trusting his voice, as more tears trickled down his cheeks. At least you get to
say goodbye, said a small voice in his mind. Not like with Marlene .

Fresh tears welled up at the thought of Marlene. None of them had gotten to say goodbye to her,
and she hadn’t had the chance to say any last words to any of them, either. What would Remus
have said to her if he’d gotten the chance? He’d run over them in his mind ever since her death,
thinking of what he might have told her: how he’d always admired her spirit when they’d been kids
at Hogwarts, how much her acceptance of him had meant when everyone had found out that he
was a werewolf, and how her bravery in coming out had inspired him, too. How she’d become his
family.

“I love you, mam,” Remus said, trying valiantly to keep his voice steady and not sink into his grief,
trying to push thoughts of Marlene away and focus on saying goodbye now. “You’ve always been
there for me when I needed you, for my whole life. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Remus,” Hope said softly, her brown eyes trained on his blue ones. “I love you
more than anyone or anything else in the world. I need you to know that.”

Remus gave a small smile, trying to wipe his tears away with one hand as the other still grasped
hers. “More than dad?” he asked, trying for a note of humor in his voice.

Hope smiled and let out a light laugh, which sounded as if it took some effort. “Your father
understands,” she replied. “You’re my child. From the first moment I held you in my arms, I knew
that you would be the most important person in my life.”

Remus stared at her, his face screwed up with pain, trying to keep further tears from falling. Her
expression fell, and she suddenly looked terribly sad, her eyes searching his face.

“I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “I know that I wasn’t always the parent you deserved.” Remus
opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. “These last few months, I’ve thought a lot about
the past. I suppose it’s natural to think about regrets when you’re nearing the end of your life.
Mostly, though, I thought about you, and all the things you went through, and the person you had
to be to survive them.” Her eyes searched his, and Remus could see tears in them.

“You should’ve had more time to be a child,” she said finally, her voice full of grief. “I wish I
could’ve given that to you.”

Remus swallowed and shook his head, looking out towards the hills. “That wasn’t because of you,
mam,” he replied after a beat, a slight tinge of bitterness in his voice.
Hope shook her head sadly. “But it was,” she replied. “We were afraid for you, and maybe we were
also a little afraid of you, so we made you afraid of the world, and of yourself, too.”

Remus was silent, clutching her hand, still not able to meet her gaze. Unwillingly, he thought of
Greyback’s words from the night before, about how werewolves had been taught shame because
wizards were afraid of them. He thought of Miranda, who’d told him that he needed to stop
thinking of himself as separate from the rest of them, and when he’d told her that it wasn’t easy,
she’d replied: “I can’t imagine it would be. It’s what you were raised with.”

Hope breathed out a long, labored sigh, and her fingers squeezed his. “I know you blame your
father for a lot of what happened,” she said. “But it wasn’t just him.”

“He was the one who antagonized Greyback and got me bitten,” Remus protested, looking back at
her, feeling frustration rise up in him against his will. “He was the one who should’ve known
better.”

“It’s true,” Hope admitted. “Your father should’ve known better, and done better. It’s something he
and I have talked about a lot recently. But Remus, we were both the adults, and you were the child.
After what had happened to you, no matter what I did or didn’t know about the wizarding world, I
still should’ve known better than to talk to you about it like I did. I should’ve been a better parent
to you. You have every right to be angry at me, too.”

“I’m not angry at you,” Remus said, looking at her earnestly. “I could never be.”

“I’m angry at myself,” Hope said, giving a small, helpless shrug. “For everything that happened
when you were a child and for leaving you now.”

Remus felt tears well up, silencing him, and he shook his head, swallowing them down as he tried
to speak. “Please don’t be,” he said, his voice choked.

Hope reached up her hand and put it on his cheek, the effort of her gesture evident. He leaned into
her touch, and she brushed his tears away with her fingers, which were still cold to the touch.

“I just hope that you won’t be angry at your father forever,” she said gently. “I think you might
need him in the days to come.”

Remus closed his eyes, letting tears leak from them again. “I don’t think I’m ready,” he said. He
didn’t know if he meant to speak to his father, or for his mother to leave, but it seemed to apply to
both.

Her hand caressed over his cheek again softly, and she sighed. “That’s alright, cariad,” she said,
her voice low and exhausted. Her hand dropped back to her side, and he wrapped it again in both of
his. She looked up at him and smiled.

“At least I know you’ll be taken care of,” she said. “You have so much family, more than just me
and your father.”

Remus couldn’t help but think of how much smaller his family was getting, but he nodded.

“And Sirius,” Hope added, giving him a soft, tentative smile.

Remus tried to return it genuinely, but it was an effort. He’d never told either of his parents about
Sirius, not in all these years, but of course, his mother had guessed. Sirius had never minded, never
demanded that Remus come clean for his sake, probably because of all that had happened with his
own family. Remus and Sirius had never pretended to be anything in front of his parents, either,
and yet Remus had never gotten up the courage to speak the words aloud.

“I never asked again,” Hope said, her voice faint, exhaustion showing in every line of her thin face.
“Not after that first time. You denied it so vehemently then, so I supposed that you just didn’t want
to be asked.”

“When did you—” Remus began to ask, his brow furrowing in confusion, then he realized. “Do
you mean that first day when my friends all came here?” He remembered his and his mother’s
conversation in the kitchen after the boys had gone, her gentle prodding about Sirius.

Hope smiled and nodded. Remus flushed slightly, looking down at his feet. He felt just like he had
in that conversation, years ago, as if time had suddenly moved backward and he was seventeen
again, too ashamed to even think about his sexuality himself.

“We weren’t together then,” Remus muttered, glancing up at her again, a little abashed.

His mother’s face broke into a brilliant smile, and she gave his hand a soft squeeze, which was
probably the most she could manage to express her excitement at the moment.

“Will you tell me?” she asked, still smiling at him. “I’d love to hear how it happened, if you feel
comfortable telling me.”

Remus swallowed, a brief feeling of anxiety rising in him as he contemplated telling his mother the
complicated and winding tale of him and Sirius. He definitely hadn’t expected this when he’d
arrived here today. And yet, why shouldn’t he tell her? He’d spent years not saying the words
aloud to his mother, even though he’d been out to all of his friends, even though he knew that she’d
accept him without question. Secrets had become a habit for him, one that was hard to shake, but
he was tired of them. Perhaps he didn’t want her to go without knowing the whole of him. So he
told her.

Remus looked out towards the hills as he told the story, though he felt her brown eyes trained on
him as he spoke. He started with the story of the two boys they’d been when they met, both
frightened and holding their pain close to their chests, something that had always brought them
closer. He told her about Sirius finding out that Remus was a werewolf, of the way he’d forced
Remus to face the idea that someone could care about him despite it. He even told her of the way
that his friends had all become Animagi for him, of the years of effort they’d put in to make his full
moons more bearable. He told her of his and Sirius’ fights, of the confusion of jealousy and love
that had pulled them apart at times.

Remus told her of what had happened in their fifth year with Snape, and how that betrayal had
struck him to his core. He told her of the way that Sirius had apologized, of the way that he’d said
that Remus shouldn’t forgive him, because he didn’t deserve it, but how Remus had anyway
because something in him hurt more at the idea of not having Sirius in his life than anything else.
He told her of Marlene and Sirius, and how much it’d hurt him, even if he hadn’t been able to
acknowledge it at the time. He told her about what had happened in their seventh year, how Sirius
had kissed him in their dormitory after that party, and how it’d dug up years’ worth of suppressed
feelings. He finished with how they’d figured it all out, in the end, and of telling their friends. He
didn’t tell her about how it’d been in the last few months. He wouldn’t burden her with that
knowledge, not now, when all she wanted was to know that he’d be alright when she was gone.

When Remus finished, he looked back at his mam and found that she was wearing a soft smile on
her face.

“I’m so proud of you,” Hope said. “You found the person you were meant to love, and you had the
 courage to go through with loving him, despite the obstacles.”

She didn’t comment on the revelation of the Animagi, or on the near-miss in his fifth year that
could’ve caused his whole life to fall apart. She didn’t even ask why he’d never told her any of this
before. She just gave his hand a squeeze and announced that she’d like to go back inside. Remus
lifted her from her chair, carrying her through the back door and into the sitting room. Remus’
father, who’d been waiting in there, set down his book and helped Remus carry Hope up the stairs
to their bedroom. They tucked her gently under the covers, and then both sat on either side of her,
Remus next to her on the bed and Lyall in a chair beside it, each holding one of her hands.

All the words that needed to be said had been said, Remus knew: all regrets voiced, all
endearments shared, and all goodbyes spoken. His mother knew how much Remus loved her, and
he knew how much she loved him. He supposed that she and his father had spoken those things to
one another earlier that day, too, if not over the course of many weeks or months. Now, they just
sat with her, watching as her eyes slid shut. Her breathing became slower and more labored, but
just as Remus thought she’d fallen asleep, Hope began to hum. It was slow and halting, interrupted
by her labored breathing, but he recognized it as a Welsh lullaby she’d used to sing to him when
he’d been a child, when she’d tuck him into bed at night. He didn’t remember the words, and he’d
never been able to understand much Welsh, anyway, but he’d always felt their meaning, the way
that they communicated the feeling of safety within her arms, the knowledge that as long as she
was there, nothing could ever harm him.

Remus began to hum along with her, taking over the melody as she faltered, and soon, Hope had
fallen silent and now held a small smile on her face as she listened to him. He continued even as
tears dripped down his cheeks onto the bedspread, as Hope’s breathing grew slower and slower,
rattling out painfully until she stopped breathing entirely. Remus finished the last few notes, letting
them hang on the air, then leaned to put his head to her still chest, letting the sobs come as he heard
the evidence of what he’d already known: her heart had ceased beating. She was gone.

Chapter End Notes

I'm really sorry for hitting you back to back with deaths...This chapter was really hard
to write.

If you’re looking for a way to feel better after this chapter, might I suggest binge-
watching Heartstopper on Netflix three times in a row? That (sort of) worked for me,
at least.
 1981: Unraveling

On a warm Monday morning, Hestia walked down a London street with two coffee cups in her
hands. It was mid-August, exactly a month since Marlene had died, and Hestia had decided that
today might not be a good day for Dorcas to be alone. She hadn’t seen her friend in weeks: Dorcas
had stopped turning up to work at St. Mungo’s, and because of the lack of whole Order meetings
these days, there weren’t many other opportunities to see her.

Worry had nagged at Hestia’s brain, but Emmeline had insisted that they give Dorcas space if she
needed it. On this day, however, Hestia had decided that a check-in was in order, and she didn’t
care what anyone had to say about it.

When she reached the front door of the building where Dorcas now lived alone, Hestia gave a
quick glance up and down the sidewalk before pointing her wand—concealed in her sleeve—at the
door and murmuring: “ Alohomora.” The door opened with a soft click, and Hestia pushed her way
inside. She walked over to the stairway and began to climb toward the third floor, as she’d done
many times before.

When she reached Dorcas’ door, Hestia knocked five times and heard no response. She waited for
a minute, tapping her foot on the floor, then gave it another series of sharp raps. Still nothing.
Hestia tried the doorknob, but of course, it was locked tightly. Looking around, Hestia took out her
wand again and pointed it at the door, repeating the unlocking charm she’d used on the front door
of the building. The door still refused to budge. Hestia frowned, and tried another, more complex
spell to unlock the door, but still nothing. Dorcas must have added new layers of protection since
Marlene had died. A good idea, perhaps, and yet…

Hestia sighed and looked back and forth down the hallway. If Dorcas wasn’t here, where was she?
Should Hestia wait for Dorcas to return? But for how long? She sighed and leaned against the
door.

“Where are you, Dorcas?” Hestia murmured to herself, worry creeping into her voice as she
scanned the hallway.

Suddenly, the door behind Hestia flew open. She stumbled and righted herself, then turned,
immediately registering a wand being pointed at her from the open doorway as she did so.

“What the fuck?” Hestia asked, so shocked that she wasn’t sure what else to say.

She took in the sight of Dorcas in the door, her hair dripping wet, a towel wrapped haphazardly
around her body as she stared at Hestia, a mixed look of surprise and fading hostility on her face.
Dorcas lowered her hazel wand slightly so that it wasn’t pointed directly at Hestia’s heart, but
didn’t let it fall completely.

“Hestia?” she demanded, raising her eyebrows. “What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to see how you were doing,” Hestia said, a note of defensiveness in her voice,
feeling a little offended that the wand was still pointed at her. She raised the two coffee cups she
was holding. “I brought coffee.”

Dorcas slowly lowered her wand, though she was still scanning Hestia’s form a little suspiciously.
“Why were you trying to break in?” she asked, hitching her towel more securely around herself.
“The alarm I set up to tell me when someone is trying to unlock the door went off.”
Hestia flushed pink but managed to reply with some dignity. “I wasn’t trying to break in,” she said.
“I just wanted to see you.”

Dorcas hesitated, narrowing her eyes ever so slightly at Hestia, then shrugged. “Fine,” she said,
standing aside. “Come in, then.”

Hestia walked past her, avoiding the drops of water on the floor around where Dorcas was
standing. Dorcas closed the door carefully behind her, locking the many locks on it with a swish of
her wand.

“I’ll go get changed,” Dorcas said, her tone neutral, heading toward the bedroom.

Hestia watched her go, feeling a combination of alarm and a bizarre urge to laugh. Three years ago,
Hestia might have found it extremely funny to be greeted by a half-naked friend pointing a wand at
her, but now, it felt more sad than amusing. Hestia looked around, and a further pang of sorrow
went through her at the sight of the flat, wiping away all of her earlier amusement.

The last time Hestia had seen the flat, Marlene had still lived here, too. So much had changed in a
month. Now, the flat, which had always been relatively neat, was strewn with items. The sink was
full of unwashed dishes, and the coffee table was covered in papers, some of which were lying on
the floor around it. A hamper lay on its side next to the bedroom door, and a few items of clothing
lay around it, as if Dorcas had done laundry but neglected the chore of putting it away, opting to
dig around in the basket for things to wear instead.

Hestia frowned, her worry growing. The fact that Dorcas had stopped coming to work was one
thing, but it now looked like she’d given up on taking care of herself, too. I should’ve come sooner,
she thought, scolding herself for listening to Emmeline. Maybe Dorcas didn’t want help, but it was
clear that she needed it.

Hestia’s gaze was drawn to the far wall, which looked different than when she’d seen it last. It was
bare, the painting which had hung there sitting discarded against the couch. Still, it wasn’t just the
bareness of the white wall that looked odd…the surface looked somehow blurred. Hestia’s brows
furrowed, and she moved closer to it, standing in front of the wall and letting her gaze scan across
it. Up close, the strange blurring effect was even more obvious. Hestia narrowed her eyes and
produced her wand from her pocket. She knew a concealment charm when she saw one, and she’d
never been the type to mind her own business. What was Dorcas hiding?

“Aparecium,” Hestia murmured under her breath, pointing her wand at the wall.

Her eyes widened as she witnessed the façade dissolve, the blur of the white wall peeling away bit
by bit until she saw what was truly underneath. Hestia stepped closer, a hand going up to cover her
mouth as she took in the spiderweb of information before her. Lines connected to note cards with
dates on them, descriptions, and pictures of attacks Hestia had been witness to. There were names,
too, of known Death Eaters and Order members alike. Hestia’s eyes flicked to a picture of Benjy
Fenwick, a red X drawn over it, and her throat constricted with tears. He’d only died a few days
before, and the shock of what had happened to him was still too much for her to process.

Instead of looking closely at the branches, Hestia’s gaze followed the lines to the center of the
wall, where they merged. A small piece of paper was stuck there, words tiny and innocent among
the chaos that was the rest of the wall. Hestia leaned closer, and tears filled her eyes. The words
written on the paper weren’t written in Dorcas’ hand, as Hestia would’ve expected, but Marlene’s,
her handwriting as messy and careless as it’d ever been. Her scrawl spelled out four words: spy in
the Order.
“Get away from there!” Dorcas’ voice rang out loud behind Hestia, a sharp edge to it, and Hestia
whirled, her heart thumping in her chest and tears still in her eyes.

Hestia raised her hand to wipe them away and took in the sight of Dorcas in the doorway to the
bedroom, now fully dressed, her hair dry and her gaze intent upon Hestia, her mouth pulled into a
frown. Dorcas strode toward the wall and waved her wand, causing the blanket of white to cover it
again, hiding it from Hestia’s view. Still, Hestia had seen enough.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, her voice full of an anger that just served to
conceal the fear she felt. “What was all of that?”

Dorcas gave her a rather cold glance and moved over to the couch, sitting down and gesturing for
Hestia to do the same. Hestia hesitated for a moment, looking back at the blank, blurred wall, then
complied, sitting on the other end of the couch from Dorcas, staring at her. Now that she had more
than a moment to examine Dorcas, Hestia realized that her friend looked years older than when
she’d last seen her up close. Her jaw was clenched, posture stiff, and there was a hard glint in her
brown eyes that Hestia had never seen before. Another pang of sorrow ran through her as she
longed for the Dorcas she’d known in school, the one whose eyes had sparkled, and who’d
laughed. The Dorcas who’d died with Marlene.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” Dorcas said evenly, her tone clipped and expressionless.

Hestia fought the urge to scream. “Well, I did,” she replied, leaning closer to Dorcas. “You’re
investigating the spy in the Order. Why?”

“Why?” Dorcas echoed, and emotion finally filled her voice as it cracked. She looked at Hestia
with a mixture of anger and terrible sorrow, and Hestia could finally see through the cracks in her
façade to the girl underneath, the girl who was clearly half-mad from pain.

“How can you ask me that? The spy is taking everything from us. First Marlene and her family.”
Dorcas’ voice shook, but with grief or rage, Hestia wasn’t sure. “Then Benjy. Who’s next?”

“You don’t know that the spy was responsible for any of their deaths,” Hestia pointed out, but she
hesitated at the rage in Dorcas’ eyes. She plowed on, however. “Dumbledore told us that he’d
handle the spy. He said that he, Moody, and Dearborn are looking for clues.”

“I’m done doing what Dumbledore says,” Dorcas retorted, her tone hard. “He doesn’t know a
thing, and he can’t see things the way I do. The way we do.” She looked at Hestia, and Hestia met
her gaze hesitantly, though she knew there was truth in Dorcas’ words.

“Dumbledore isn’t on the ground doing the things we’re doing,” Dorcas continued. “He doesn’t
talk to members of the Order in the way we talk to one another, or at least, the way we used to. He
doesn’t have the same perspective. I can figure it out. He can’t.”

“Have you got any leads?” Hestia asked, unwilling curiosity peeking through her reluctance to
encourage Dorcas’ reckless venture.

Dorcas gazed back at her, a door closing suddenly in her eyes again, and shook her head. “Even if I
had, I wouldn’t tell you,” she said, her voice not unkind, but distant. “The fewer people who know
about this, the better.”

Hestia swallowed her hurt and continued. “But are you getting close?” she demanded.

Dorcas shrugged and looked back towards the wall, her eyes narrowing as she stared at it, as if she
could see through the barrier toward the truth underneath. “I haven’t finished laying everything
out,” she said, tilting her head slightly.

Hestia recognized that look in her eyes, the distant, problem-solving look. Dorcas used to get it
sometimes at Hogwarts, when she was absorbed in work, far away from all the others.

Dorcas continued, not looking at Hestia, as if she’d half-forgotten she was speaking to her at all.
“Once I have all the pieces, I can figure out what’s missing, and what doesn’t fit together. Then,
I’ll know who it is.”

She still didn’t look at Hestia, and Hestia was suddenly overwhelmed by the wrongness of the
scene. Dorcas had lost something inside her. While this focus—Dorcas’ intelligent gaze clouding
as she solved a problem—wasn’t altogether foreign, it felt different. She seemed hollow.

Hestia felt a rush of fear run through her as she looked at Dorcas, so different from when Hestia
had first met her, ten years before. When Marlene had died, Hestia had lost the naïve belief she’d
held onto when the war had begun: that when it was all over, they’d be able to go back to their
lives, happy as when they’d been children, when they’d known nothing of this whole conflict.
Now, she wondered: what more would the war steal from them before it was done?

Hestia left Dorcas’ flat that day with an uneasy feeling. She’d gone in trying to comfort her friend,
the broken girl she’d seen crying at Marlene’s grave, and instead, she’d found an entirely different
Dorcas waiting for her. Dorcas had shut herself off from the world, and she felt more distant than
Hestia had ever seen her. For the rest of the visit, Dorcas had answered all of Hestia’s questions
with vague dismissals, not letting in Hestia’s concern and avoiding her questions as to how she
was. She’d bade Hestia goodbye with a quick hug, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and a request
not to tell anyone about her search for the spy.

“If people know, it’d just make it harder,” she’d said, her eyes intent upon Hestia’s.

Hestia had nodded mutely, her eyes scanning across Dorcas’ face, trying to find something familiar
in her eyes. Then, Hestia had left.

Now, Hestia walked away down the street, feeling lost, her half-empty coffee cup still in her hand.
She’d forgotten to drink the rest of the cold contents in her time at Dorcas’ flat, and now she
wasn’t sure if she wanted to. Still, she had a ten-hour shift at St. Mungo’s in half an hour and she
needed all the energy she could get, so she downed the cold dregs in one go before throwing the
cup away.

Hestia looked down toward the end of the street and sighed. She’d expected to spend more time
with Dorcas, but perhaps she’d just use her extra time to walk to work instead of apparating.

Sadness filled her as she set off, contemplating the shift ahead, which would be free of Dorcas and
of James. They’d all started out together as Trainee Healers, all thrilled to have been accepted at
the end of their Hogwarts careers, but now everything was different. James was forced to stay in
his and Lily’s house with Harry to keep them safe, and Dorcas seemed to only have one dream
anymore: to avenge Marlene’s death.

Hestia thought of Marlene, and how her absence had felt so heavy in the past month. Perhaps
Hestia, too, had just wanted to be around someone else that morning, rather than have to face her
empty flat, with Emmeline gone on a work trip to Turkey. Perhaps she’d been selfish in her desire
to comfort Dorcas, wanting to feel like she was needed, feel like she could drown out her own grief
by comforting someone else. As it turned out, Dorcas didn’t want to be comforted, and Hestia had
nothing but silence for company in her sadness.
Hestia thought of the girls she’d grown up with in her dormitory at Hogwarts, and slowly ticked
them off one by one. Marlene was dead. Dorcas had been hollowed out from the inside. Lily was in
hiding. Emmeline was gone on work trips more often than not, and her silent sort of grief didn’t
match up well with Hestia’s desire for noise to drown out the pain. Mary had withdrawn from them
slightly since she’d moved out, and though the move had seemed like a good idea at the time,
Hestia now wished that she’d stayed. She wished they could go back to that time, just after they’d
all graduated Hogwarts, when the four of them had shared the flat. Back then, they’d doubled up
on rooms, both to save money and, though none of them said it, because they weren’t ready to let
go of the comfort of sharing a room with their friends. Hestia longed for that comfort now.

When Hestia reached the street where St. Mungo’s lay, she shook her head, trying to shake off the
blanket of sad nostalgia that had settled over her. Then, she squared her shoulders and walked
through the glass, ready to put her own mask on and do her job.

....

In the absence of Emmeline in the flat that evening, it’d naturally been Peter who Hestia went to at
the end of the day. He came like he always did, through the floo network as soon as he received her
message, and she comforted herself in his now-familiar embrace.

As they lay together under the crimson sheets on her bed in what had once been Lily and Mary’s
room, Hestia began to unburden herself to him, as she’d done many times before over the last nine
months.

“I don’t even know how to describe it,” Hestia said, her teeth worrying her lower lip as she faced
him, his fingers running over her forearm as he gazed intently at her, listening. “She was Dorcas,
but she wasn’t. She just seemed so empty, like all the life had gone out of her. The flat’s a mess,
and I worry that she’s not eating much, either, or sleeping.”

“That’s awful,” Peter said, a troubled look on his face.

Hestia sighed, shaking her head, tears forming in her eyes. She was glad to be talking to someone
about this, at least, and that it wasn’t her burden to carry alone.

“It’s like she died with Marlene,” she said, her voice choking slightly as she thought of how Dorcas
had looked: tired and years older, the light in her eyes dimmed to a low glow.

Peter’s blue eyes scanned over Hestia’s face, a look of deep concern in them. Despite her sadness
over Dorcas, Hestia felt a surge of warmth go through her, seeing that look in his eyes, though it
was bittersweet.

This thing that Hestia had with Peter had been developing over a long time, ever since they’d
joined the Order of the Phoenix and been put on the same schedule. Back in Hogwarts, Hestia
could’ve never imagined that they would’ve grown as close as they had, but she was glad of it
every day. Since the beginning, he’d always been someone that could lighten her load, share her
burden with, and in the last nine months, as they’d been sleeping together, it’d become even more
so.

Hestia had the feeling that they both knew that what was between them might develop more if
given the chance, and yet the circumstances made it hard. They didn’t speak about the possibility
of more, as it seemed like it was never the right moment, never appropriate to think about their
future happiness when so much misery was taking place around them. Hestia had only told
Emmeline about their relationship, and she wasn’t sure if Peter had told anyone at all. It didn’t
matter, really, whether people knew or didn’t know, but she felt the same way about telling others
that she did about talking about it themselves: it felt inappropriate, with all the tragedy around
them. Still, Hestia felt herself falling for Peter, bit by bit over all this time, and she didn’t try to
stop it. She needed him, and she thought he needed her, too, so what was the harm in it, really?

“If she’s not going to work, and she’s not taking care of herself, what is she doing?” Peter asked,
jerking Hestia from her thoughts about the two of them and back into Dorcas’ predicament.

Hestia sighed and gave him a long look. Dorcas had said not to tell anyone, but Hestia trusted
Peter, and he wouldn’t tell anyone about what Dorcas was doing if she asked. Dorcas’ concern over
slowing her investigation wouldn’t come true over a few whispered words in her bedroom to him.

“She’s trying to figure out who the spy is,” Hestia said, lowering her voice slightly, even though
they were alone. Peter’s eyes widened, and Hestia could see what she thought was shock in their
light blue depths. She hurried on. “She’s got all these notes and pictures and things up on the wall
of her flat. Even news clippings. She’s trying to lay it all out, and she said something like when it’s
all there, she’ll be able to figure out who it is.”

“So she’s investigating people in the Order?” Peter asked, his eyebrows raised in alarm.

Hestia hesitated and frowned. “Well, I suppose so,” she said, shrugging. “But not like…us, I don’t
think. I mean, if she suspected me, she wouldn’t have told me about it all.”

“She just told you what she was doing?”

“Well, no, not exactly,” Hestia admitted, feeling a little abashed. “I sort of found it all. She had a
concealment charm on the wall where she’s got all her notes and things, but I was kind of poking
around when she was going to get dressed, so I took the charm off and saw it all.”

“What was on it?” Peter demanded, his voice containing a mixture of eagerness and anxiety. “Did
you see if she had any leads? Did she tell you who she thinks it is?”

Hestia hesitated, then shook her head. “I didn’t look at it for long,” she replied. “Dorcas found me
looking at it, and she covered it up again. I don’t think she wanted me to see.”

Peter seemed to sag a little in disappointment, and they both fell into silence for a moment, a
preoccupied expression coming over Peter’s face as Hestia fell into her own thoughts, thinking
about the lines on the wall and trying to remember what connected with what. All of a sudden,
Hestia wished that she could force her way back in and demand that Dorcas let her help, let her
find the person who’d made things so bad for all of them for so long. It made Hestia want to
scream whenever she thought about the spy, to know that there was someone right under their
noses who was content with letting them all die.

“Do you think she can do it?” Peter asked after they’d sat in silence for a while, his eyes focusing
back on her, and she looked up to meet them.

Hestia gave a small, tired shrug. “I don’t know, Peter,” she said. “I hope she can. Normally, I’d say
she could, since she’s Dorcas, and she’s one of the smartest people I know. But she’s not the same
Dorcas that I used to know, so I don’t know.”

Peter looked thoughtful and made a slight noise of assent in his throat.

“Then again,” Hestia added fairly, looking up at the opposite wall without really seeing it. “She’s
focusing all her energy on solving this problem right now. She’s abandoned everything else, and
this is her only purpose. She blames the spy for what happened to Marlene and her family, and to
Benjy. That’s a powerful motivator.”
Peter flinched as Hestia mentioned Marlene’s family, and Hestia looked back down at him, giving
him a soft, sympathetic smile and pushing his hair away from his eyes with one hand.

“It hurts me to think about, too,” she said sadly. “I still sometimes forget. She’s been around for so
long, and I can’t quite comprehend that she’s just…gone, now.”

“I know,” Peter replied, looking back at her, his eyes shining with sudden tears. “All that time she
spent with us at Hogwarts, as well as at James’ house over the breaks and everything…It doesn’t
quite feel real.” He paused, then the flicker of a smile came across his face, full of nostalgia and
affection. “You know, when I was in my first couple of years at Hogwarts, Marlene sort of scared
me.”

Hestia began to laugh, affection for the little girl Marlene had been washing through her. “Did you
ever get over it?” she asked, grinning. “Because I never did.”

Peter grinned back at her and gave a slight, self-conscious shrug. “Not completely,” he admitted.
“But I think it’s reasonable to have a good healthy fear of her, you know? She’s dangerous.” Then,
his face fell, and he amended: “Well, she was.”

In the slight pause, the smile slid off Hestia’s face, too. “She was pretty fearsome sometimes,” she
said quietly, no longer able to smile about it, now. She turned to lay on her back and look up at the
ceiling, thinking of Marlene.

“You know, it might not have been the spy,” Peter said quietly into the silence between them, after
a few moments. When Hestia didn’t reply, he continued forward. “Who got the McKinnons killed,
I mean. The Death Eaters could’ve found their own way through the protective enchantments.”

Hestia sighed, not turning to look at him, just staring at the ceiling. “I suppose,” she said finally.
Still, she didn’t really believe it, and she didn’t think that he did, either. “I’m not sure it really
matters, though. Whether or not the spy got the McKinnons killed, or Benjy, they’ve done plenty of
damage to us. Either way, Dorcas believes that it was the spy, and I’m not sure what she’ll do if
she finds out who it is.”

“What do you mean?” Peter asked, looking over at her.

Hestia felt his gaze on her cheek, and she turned to meet it tiredly. “She might not go to
Dumbledore,” she explained. Hestia looked away from him for a moment, feeling a little wary to
admit the dark possibilities she saw in her mind’s eye, then glanced back to meet his blue gaze.
“She might take matters into her own hands.”

“What, kill them?” Peter asked, his eyes widening. “Dorcas wouldn’t do that, surely.”

Hestia shook her head slowly. “I don’t know what she’d do anymore,” she admitted. “And really,
I’m not sure I’d blame her for it. I don’t know. Maybe they’d deserve it.”

Peter stared back at her for a long moment, his blue eyes unreadable and searching. Hestia tried to
figure out if there was judgment in his gaze for what she’d just professed, but at that moment, she
didn’t feel ashamed.

“You can’t tell anyone about any of this, you know,” Hestia said finally.

“I won’t,” Peter promised, his voice soft.

Hestia nodded, then looked away from him, back up at the ceiling, and let the silence stretch.
 1981: Love Will Tear Us Apart
Chapter Notes

cw: major character death, graphic depictions of violence, homophobia

See the end of the chapter for more notes

When routine bites hard and ambitions are low

And resentment rides high but emotions won't grow

And we're changing our ways, taking different roads

Then love, love will tear us apart again

- “Love Will Tear Us Apart,” Joy Division

As late August approached, the summer weather mocked Dorcas, the sun shining outside her
window making her draw the curtains closed, blocking out the blue sky. Still, it wasn’t the warm
weather nor the frequent interruptions of her concerned friends that thwarted her. No, Dorcas had
spent a month trying to figure out who the spy was, and she had to admit that she might’ve reached
the limit of what she could discover. She didn’t have all the pieces, and without more information,
she couldn’t move forward.

Therefore, Dorcas collected information in the only way she knew how: she threw herself into the
thick of it. Benjy was killed two weeks into this new policy of hers, and that only left Sirius and
Gideon in her Order group, so in all rights, they should’ve been cautious, but Dorcas refused to be.
Dorcas responded to every call, whether or not she was told to. She fought with every bit of herself,
and the thought didn’t even cross her mind that someday she might not return from a mission. It
didn’t matter.

One day, Sirius and Gideon turned up to a call only minutes after Dorcas and found her dueling
five Death Eaters at once. Once the Death Eaters had fled, Sirius finally lost his temper with her.

“Are you trying to get yourself fucking killed?” he demanded, grabbing Dorcas’ arm and whirling
her around to face him before she could try to apparate away.

Dorcas stared back at him, filled with a mixture of shock and defiance as she looked into his
blazing grey eyes. “I was just trying to do my job,” she said, glaring back at him.

“You’re supposed to wait for us, Dorcas!” Sirius retorted, his voice loud and angry. He dropped
her wrist and moved away from her suddenly, pushing his hair back in a gesture of frustration, then
turning back to her. “I refuse to let you die because you don’t care about anything anymore!” he
exclaimed, the anger in his voice making it rise to a higher pitch, and Dorcas could hear that it was
tinged with panic.

Gideon stepped forward, holding up his hands between them in a gesture of peace. “Stop this,” he
said, his voice level, though his gaze flicked from her to Sirius, concerned. “This isn’t helping
anything.”

“And what she’s doing is?” Sirius demanded, his voice rising further. He gestured toward the
ground, where two bodies lay. One, a girl, looked no more than sixteen. The other, a man, still
wore his Death Eater mask, and his open eyes stared sightlessly up at them. “How did killing him
help her, Dorcas? Can you tell me that?”

Dorcas’ gaze had been drawn irresistibly to the bodies on the floor when Sirius gestured to them,
and for a moment, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. The girl looked younger in death. She wasn’t
alone; a whole family had been slaughtered at the Death Eaters’ hands before any of them had
arrived, all laying in other rooms in the house waiting to be found, just like the McKinnons had
been.

“Would you have preferred me to let him go?!” Dorcas demanded, her hands clenching into fists as
she looked back up at Sirius, fury coursing through her. “So he could go out and kill other people?
Would that be more ethical in your eyes, Sirius?”

“I don’t fucking know!” Sirius exclaimed, pushing his hands into his hair, messing it up as he
stared at her. “But the fact that you’re standing here completely unfazed doesn’t sit right with me!”

“I’m not going to cry over his death,” Dorcas retorted flatly. “And I won’t be shamed into it by
you.”

“Marlene—” Sirius started, but Dorcas cut him off with a frustrated scream.

“I’m not Marlene!” she yelled at him, and he actually took a step back from her, staring at her in
alarm. She plowed on, not caring. “And don’t you dare use her against me right now!”

Sirius fell into silence, and Dorcas turned away from him, away from the bodies, away from
Gideon, who was saying something about reporting to Dumbledore. She left, and neither did
anything to stop her.

Dorcas did have to wonder what Marlene would think of her now. She remembered her girlfriend,
curled up on their cold floor on the night of Evan Rosier’s death, sobbing uncontrollably. Perhaps
that part of Dorcas, which would’ve caused her to weep like Marlene had when she’d killed
someone, had died along with her girlfriend. Or perhaps Dorcas never would’ve wept, knowing the
death that Voldemort’s servants had reaped. She tried to push the image of the girl’s body on the
floor out of her mind, tried not to think of Marlene as she remembered the girl’s limp body, or of
Tyler. She didn’t have time for tears.

Of course, it didn’t really help. Dorcas didn’t gather much new information, and fighting Death
Eaters didn’t make her feel less hollow inside. Still, she knew she was doing something. She’d
stopped going to work, and this was her life now. Every week there were more Death Eaters to be
captured, brought into the Ministry, and interrogated. Sometimes they died, but most of the time,
Dorcas didn’t kill them. It wasn’t her goal, at least.

Some members of the Order other than Sirius took objection to it, too. Dorcas noted it whenever
someone objected but investigating her critics didn’t seem to lead anywhere in her search for the
spy. She supposed that they just didn’t like her methods. Dumbledore didn’t say a thing, and
although Dorcas avoided him, she didn’t think he cared what she was doing at all. Perhaps he knew
what she did: that she was the kind of soldier that the Order needed right then, no matter if she was
the kind that they wanted.

On the other hand, Moody was among Dorcas’ biggest critics. She could feel his frown on her
sometimes when he was present while she was reporting to Dumbledore, or when she came to the
Ministry to visit her mother, which was usually a disguised attempt to gain new leads on Death
Eaters. One day, he drew her aside as she was delivering a Death Eater she’d captured to the Auror
office, his hand fastening on her shoulder to stop her as she tried to walk out past him.

“Marlene wouldn’t have wanted this,” he said without preamble, his usual impassive expression
hitched onto his scarred face. “She wouldn’t have wanted you to do what you’re doing.”

Dorcas’ fists clenched, her skin grew hot, and she fought the urge to spit in his face, rage coursing
through her veins. Instead, she looked up into his dark brown eyes and responded simply: “Marlene
wanted to be alive,” before shrugging out of his grip and walking away down the corridor, without
a backward glance.

Who was he to tell her what Marlene would or wouldn’t have wanted? Dorcas was beholden to no
one but herself, and she was pretty sure that Marlene’s dying wish hadn’t been for Dorcas to uphold
some arbitrary moral standard. Marlene had loved her. She’d understand what Dorcas was doing,
and why she was doing it. Dorcas told herself that because there wasn’t any other option in her
mind.

Still, Moody’s comment stayed with her, and so, the following day, after all of her attempts to
brainstorm more about the spy failed, she ended up in Ireland, on the same lonely road she’d
apparated to on the day of Marlene’s funeral. It was the first time since Marlene’s funeral that
Dorcas had visited the grave. Perhaps she’d been avoiding it, avoiding the feelings it might dig up
again in her. She’d pushed aside the grief, replacing it with purpose, and yet it strained under her
grip, wanting to be free once more.

Dorcas didn’t go to the house, didn’t stop to greet Marlene’s family. She felt strange enough
coming here, to their family’s land. She wouldn’t impose further upon them. Instead, Dorcas took
the long way to the cemetery, walking along the edge of the forest and relying on the trees to
conceal her progress. The landscape looked much the same as when she’d seen it a little more than
a month prior, the sun warm on the little patch of land. Birds chirped merrily in the trees. In the
distance, Dorcas could see the coastline, a darker blue horizon against the light blue sky.

Dorcas entered the cemetery, walking slowly past John’s and Imogen’s graves, her gaze lingering
over each of their headstones, then onto Tyler’s, and finally, to Marlene’s. She sat down in front of
the stone, just as she had on the day of Marlene’s funeral. Now, however, there were wildflowers
pushing up through the earth, the grass thick over the fresh grave. Perhaps a member of Marlene’s
family had charmed the grass and flowers to grow quickly to cover the newest members of the
cemetery, or perhaps it was magic contained in the earth itself.

Red poppies and daisies covered the space just in front of Marlene’s headstone, growing over
where she lay. Dorcas stared at them for a moment, her throat constricted as a memory welled up
inside her, just as tears did in her eyes: Marlene, sixteen years old, during the summer before their
sixth year at Hogwarts, plucking daisies and red poppies from the earth in Dorcas’ backyard,
running her fingers over the petals, and lobbing them at her friends seated around her. James had
ignored her, while Dorcas had taken the daisies and woven them into the flower crown she was
making. Eventually, Sirius had gotten fed up and hoisted Marlene up off the ground, his arms
wrapped around her waist as he spun her in a circle. Marlene had laughed and laughed.

Dorcas couldn’t stop the tears from coming. They poured down her face in rivulets, falling onto the
flowers that blossomed from Marlene’s grave. She couldn’t breathe. The memory of Marlene’s
laugh, so long ago, when she’d been so young and innocent, was unbearable. Dorcas didn’t want to
feel. She didn’t want to hear Marlene’s laughter. It was all too much, the sun was too bright, and
the tears were too thick on her face. Dorcas’ eyes stung, and her breath came out in pants, and
Marlene was dead. She was dead. So why could Dorcas hear her laughing? What were these
flowers doing here, if Marlene was gone? How dare they make this place beautiful, when they
were just another reminder of what Dorcas had lost? How dare Marlene laugh, when Dorcas was
missing her? How dare she go, and leave Dorcas with these flowers, which meant nothing, nothing,
without her there?

“I can’t do this,” Dorcas sobbed, tears rushing down her face, barely even knowing what she was
saying. “How can I do this without you?”

The grave was silent, the flowers didn’t respond, and Marlene’s face in her mind’s eye faded, her
laughter died, and Dorcas was left staring at the grave. The knot etched into Marlene’s gravestone
stared back at her, and it was as if Marlene was speaking to her, giving it to her as a reminder. A
reminder to have courage. To be strong.

“I’m trying so hard,” Dorcas said, wiping the tears away from her face. “Maybe I’m just not good
enough. Maybe I just can’t do this on my own. I thought I could…I thought I could find the spy. I
thought I could make it all matter. But maybe I’m just not as smart as I think I am.”

Dorcas remembered her boggart, the sphinx that had stood before her in that third-year classroom,
ready to pounce, and shivered. “She’s afraid of being wrong, you know,” Marlene’s voice from
that day echoed back to her, the little joke she’d made to Sirius about Dorcas. She’d been right
then, and she was right now. Dorcas was facing down the sphinx, the puzzle she couldn’t solve,
the answer she couldn’t find, and soon, it would attack.

It’ll only catch up with you if you don’t solve it, a small voice reminded her. If you do, you can
attack first. The voice sounded like Marlene’s, but Dorcas knew that that was pure imagination.
Still, Dorcas wondered if the Marlene in her head believed in her, or if she thought that Dorcas
would fail. Back when Marlene was alive, the answer would be obvious. Marlene had always
believed in Dorcas. She’d always believed that Dorcas could do the impossible, even if it’d never
been done before, even if no one else could. But now Marlene was dead, and perhaps she’d tell
Dorcas that some things just couldn’t be solved, that some fates were unavoidable.

The fact that Dorcas was here, crying her eyes out in a field of wildflowers, seemed to prove that. It
reminded her of one of Euphemia Potter’s favorite sayings: You can’t influence the way the river
flows. When Dorcas had been very young, she hadn’t understood what it meant, but she’d always
liked the sound of the words. Now, Dorcas thought she knew what the older woman had been
trying to say. It meant that life was influenced by so many things beyond human control, most of
all emotion, and no matter how hard someone tried to change it, the current would go on in
whichever way it chose.

Of course, Dorcas didn’t think it was entirely true because these days people did all sorts of things
to change the way nature worked. But even then, maybe the current would win out over time.
Maybe suppressing it or trying to move it to one’s will only appeared effective in the short term,
but the current always persisted in the long term, tearing down the dams that had been built to
block it. So perhaps the dam that Dorcas had built with purpose and focus would crumble in the
face of her grief, too. Perhaps it already had.

Dorcas’ eyes, which had been closed as she let tears cascade down her cheeks, flew open. She
blinked in the light as realization crashed through her, strong as the emotion that had overcome her
moments ago. Euphemia had been right all along: nature would always move through the obstacles
made in its way. It created cracks and washed away layers of veneer to display what was
underneath. It revealed secrets, which were just another thing made to be uncovered with time.
Secrets, which were washed away by emotions—by guilt and conscience rather than by facts and
calculations.

Dorcas thought back to what she’d told Hestia only a few days earlier when she’d said that she
could solve this problem where Dumbledore couldn’t because she saw things differently than he
did. It’d been true, but not in the way that Dorcas had thought it was. She’d believed that she could
find the truth because she had more of the facts than he did, but that wasn’t it. No, she and
Dumbledore had fallen into the same flaw, in believing that ridding their decisions of emotion
would help them in the pursuit of the goal. “You can’t influence the way the river flows,”
Euphemia had said, and Dorcas knew now that the only way to find the truth would be to flow with
it. She had to let the emotion in. It was the only way to find the truth.

“I’ll come back,” Dorcas promised Marlene’s grave, reaching a hand out to touch the letters of her
name gently, a rush of sorrow going through her. But greater even than that, Dorcas felt a rush of
sudden hope, like a rare breeze on a long, hot day. She pushed herself to her feet. She could do this.

....

When Dorcas returned to her flat, she threw the curtains wide, letting in the light of the setting sun,
then turned to her wall, waving her hand absentmindedly to remove the façade covering it. The
notes and pictures stared back at Dorcas, and she stepped closer, her eyes scanning over each one
again. She knew the facts, of course, had looked at this wall a thousand times, but perhaps there
was something she’d missed, something that her newfound perspective could reveal.

There was nothing new to note, so instead Dorcas moved to the couch and pulled out a pad of
paper and a pen. On it, Dorcas wrote a list of names: that of every member of the Order of the
Phoenix, with a space under each. Even after weeks of working, Dorcas had been reluctant to do
this. She’d thought that the events and facts would point toward someone, rather than force her to
make everyone a suspect, but the facts were unyielding, so she’d turn toward the people, instead.

Dorcas poured over each name, thinking about the person’s character. She wrote down when
they’d joined the Order, who they were friends with, where they worked, and anything else she
could think of. She connected their names in a web, noting people’s friends, family, who they
interacted with most in the Order, or who they seemed to avoid. People who were married. People
who were dating. People who she’d seen give each other one too many stray glances across the
room to be innocent.

It was a map of stories, and even Dorcas didn’t know them all. Perhaps Hestia or Lily would’ve
been better at this than her, with their knack for reading people’s secrets, but Dorcas thought that
she was plenty proficient at it, too. Once she’d filled her first page of notes, she pasted it to a blank
patch of wall and began to brainstorm out loud, letting her quill take down the information as she
did so.

Dorcas repeated stories she’d heard, or that others had told her: about how Elphias Doge had
known Dumbledore when they’d been at Hogwarts together, how Hagrid had been accused by
Voldemort of opening the Chamber of Secrets and expelled for it, how Moody’s older sister had
been murdered by dark wizards when he’d been twenty-five, causing him to join the Ministry as an
Auror. She listed off motivations and backgrounds that she’d heard whispers of: Edgar Bones’
family’s history of being blood traitors, and his younger sister’s advocacy in the Ministry of Magic.
The Prewett’s rebellion against their pureblood elitist family, and their older sister’s scandalous
elopement with Arthur Weasley, a blood traitor.

Some stories, of course, Dorcas knew well. Remus’ Muggle mother, and his lifelong struggle with
being a werewolf. Sirius’ escape from his abusive pureblood family, and his brother’s death,
rumored to be at the hands of Voldemort himself. Mary’s outspokenness against the Slytherins at
school, which had made her a target for the vicious attack in her fifth year. Hestia’s two Muggle-
born parents, her blazing eyes, and belief in justice. Emmeline’s half-Muggle family, and her Squib
younger brother. Dorcas listed off name after name, story after story.

All these people in the Order of the Phoenix had reasons for being there. Reasons to fight. Reasons
that kept them there, even if it was to risk dying. Dorcas knew their reasons well, as they were all
her own: her family raising her to think differently, her loyalty to the cause she’d been raised with,
and her love for her friends who would be killed if Voldemort got his way. Perhaps these reasons
were much more important than the facts had ever been. And yet, one of them had succumbed to
the pressure. One had fallen. One had decided their reasons weren’t big enough, not great enough
in the face of Voldemort.

Dorcas strode back to her notes and snatched them up from the coffee table, reading them over. She
looked back at the page on the wall, comparing the two. This would be where she found the gaps.
Her eyes flew over the names, the lines that connected them, and came to rest on one that had very
little written under it. Her heartbeat quickened, and something pushed back within her, but she
shoved it away, turning to grab her notebook and jotted the name down hastily. Her eyes scanned
the paper again, looking for more gaps. Again, she wrote down another name.

When she was done, she had a list of four names in front of her: four people who she couldn’t
ascribe a motivation, who’d never been outspoken, who perhaps could’ve been swayed by their
lack of stake in the war.

Peter Pettigrew

Sturgis Podmore

Dedalus Diggle

Aberforth Dumbledore

Dorcas stared down at her list, her heart pounding. It’d been Peter who’d stood out to her first, his
name coming at the top of the list, but his was the name she’d been most reluctant to write down,
too. She decided to think about him last. Instead, she turned to the rest.

Sturgis Podmore had had little motivation listed under his name. Dorcas wasn’t sure if he was a
pureblood or half-blood, though she was relatively sure that his last name was a wizarding one.
Still, Dorcas remembered how Marlene had always spoken highly of him, how even Lily had
agreed.

“He may be a flirt, and a ridiculous one, at that,” Lily had always said. “But he believes in the
cause. I’d trust him with my life at the end of the day.”

Dorcas recalled, too, how he’d protested at Dumbledore’s suggestion of only responding to calls
when you were on duty with the Order. He’d been angry, saying that more people would be killed
if they didn’t put their full resources into fighting Voldemort. Dorcas’ gut told her that he’d been
genuine. Still, she hesitated over his name and then moved on to the next.

Dedalus Diggle was of Dumbledore’s generation, and his presence on the list mostly had to do with
the fact that Dorcas knew little about him. He’d always exuded the air of a strange, quirky man,
eager in his participation in the Order and happy to speak to anyone. His patrolling group, which
had since dissolved, had contained Frank, James, and Emmeline in it. Now that Frank and James
were in hiding, and Emmeline was out of the country for work a lot of the time, it hadn’t been
practical to keep it. It seemed unlikely that the Death Eaters would pick Dedalus as an informant.
Still, Dorcas didn’t cross his name off of the list.

Aberforth Dumbledore was an unlikely suspect, due to the fact that Albus Dumbledore was his
brother, and yet Dorcas had never got the impression that theirs was a close relationship. Then
again, she’d barely seen Aberforth at any Order meetings, so how would he pass information to the
Death Eaters? What would he tell them? Dorcas sighed and went back to the top of the list, to
Peter.

It was true that Peter had little motivation listed under his name. He was a half-blood, born to two
wizarding parents, with two wizarding younger siblings. He hadn’t been raised as Dorcas had, as
far as she knew, hadn’t had this fight seared into his bones as it’d been seared into hers from birth.
He hadn’t even been initially sought out for the Order in their seventh year by Dumbledore, rather,
it’d been James who’d recommended him. He’d dropped Defense Against the Dark Arts after
O.W.L. level—to all of their disbelief at the time—despite having scraped the required mark to
continue. And yet, it’d seemed like he’d committed himself to the Order upon joining. Dorcas felt a
surge of guilt rush through her. She hated suspecting Peter.

To alleviate it, Dorcas jumped to her feet, taking her list with her to the wall and scanning across it
again. With this shortlist, perhaps she could now connect one of these names to the events on the
board, to all that had gone wrong. Her eyes flew across the Daily Prophet clippings, the notes
she’d made for important Order missions, and for Death Eater attacks. Dorcas had figured out the
timeline by now, memorized it, and dreamed about it when she went to sleep at night.

Everything had gone downhill in August of the previous year, after Harry and Neville had been
born, presumably because of Voldemort’s frantic search for the boy who would defeat him. Still,
there had been another peak in attacks. It’d been during the last two months of 1980. Dorcas
guessed, though she had no way to prove it, that this was when the spy had begun to pass the Death
Eaters information about the Order. Every Order mission from then onward had started to feel
more and more pointless, yielding fewer and fewer results.

On the other hand, this change had also coincided with the unfortunate Order plan which had
resulted in the capture of Igor Karkaroff and the death of Robert Wilkes. Before she’d known
about the spy, Dorcas had always presumed that it was the backlash from this event that had
caused the uptick in attacks. She’d abandoned the idea once she’d started her investigation into the
spy, but perhaps she shouldn’t have.

Dorcas strode over to her notes about the event, to the article in the Daily Prophet which had
detailed the death of Wilkes. She thought back to the many Order meetings they’d held, planning
the ambush, mapping the route they’d take, and each Order member’s role along the way. Dorcas
hadn’t been part of the plan, herself, but she’d heard plenty about it from those who had been
there. Moody had been furious with James and Sirius for the commotion they’d caused, beside
himself with rage over the fact that their plan hadn’t been carried out as it was supposed to, and
that one of the three Death Eaters they’d targetted had escaped.

Hestia had told Dorcas later of Moody’s rage, and how Dearborn had told Hestia, Peter, Edgar, and
Fabian to go back to the site of the ambush to look out for retaliation. Dorcas glanced at the other
news article, the one talking about the explosions in Diagon Alley that same day. Hestia had
painted a vivid image in Dorcas’ mind of the scene: the burning buildings, the Death Eater who’d
appeared out of nowhere behind Peter, the glint of his wand as he set off the second explosion…

“Shit,” Dorcas said, her mouth falling slightly open as she stared at the news article, the picture of
the street full of broken glass, and the fire crackling in the background. Her mind was going into
overdrive, moving from Peter’s name on the top of the list to the events of that day, the day before
everything had started to go so wrong.

Emmeline had told Dorcas and Marlene that Hestia had been nearly inconsolable that evening
when she, Edgar, and Fabian had returned to give their report alone. Peter had been caught in an
explosion, it’d seemed, or taken by the Death Eater who’d set it off. He’d been nowhere to be
found when they searched for him, and eventually, they’d had to leave rather than risk staying
there any longer. Still, hours later, Peter had sent the Order a message, saying that he was alright.
He’d hit his head, and not come to until the smoke had begun to clear. It’d been a reprieve, seemed
like a miracle, even. And yet that miracle had been followed by nothing but pain in the months
after.

Dorcas stood back and stared at the wall again. Was this truly the answer? She didn’t want to
believe it. She didn’t want to think that it’d been Peter all along, Peter who’d been sharing
information with Voldemort, Peter who’d gone behind all of their backs and betrayed them…Peter
who’d gotten Marlene and her family killed.

A thousand moments went through her mind: Peter on their first day at Hogwarts, his blue eyes
wide and hands clenched as he sat under the Sorting Hat for what felt like forever. Peter in their
third year, a blush on his face, chancing a glance at her in the Charms classroom, back when he’d
fancied her. Peter laughing with his friends as they talked about one of their pranks on the
Slytherins. Peter lounging in the sun by the Great Lake, smiling as James told a story. The look on
Peter’s face as he watched his younger sister get sorted at Hogwarts—the flash of protectiveness.
Peter holding onto Remus’ shoulder to support himself while he was laughing too hard at Sirius’
best man speech, at Lily and James’ wedding. How scared he’d looked, holding Harry for the first
time…Peter at Marlene’s funeral, his face white and expression full of grief.

How could this be? How could Peter have betrayed all of his friends, all of the people he’d been
closest to for so many years? Dorcas couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it. She had the
answer now, but she almost wished she could give it back, cover it up again. Instead, she flipped to
another page of her notebook and began to write, her words becoming messy with her haste. She
needed confirmation, more proof to convince her of what her mind was telling her must be true, but
couldn’t be.

Hestia,

Come to my flat. I need help with my investigation, urgently. You’re the only one who might be
able to confirm what I think I know.

Dorcas

Dorcas folded the letter in half, then in quarters, and called Avellana down from her perch. She
fastened the short note to the bird’s leg, then opened the window and sent her out.

“Please come, Tia,” Dorcas whispered, watching the owl fly away. It was a short flight, as Hestia
and Emmeline lived in London, too. Hopefully, Hestia would be home, not at work. Dorcas hoped
she’d come. She had to.

Not only was Hestia the only person who already knew about Dorcas’ search for the spy, but she
was also close with Peter. She’d been on almost every single Order mission with him since they’d
graduated from Hogwarts. Even more than that, Dorcas had a suspicion that something more was
going on between the two of them, based on the covert glances they sometimes shared, the looks
that lingered a little too long to be innocent. Of course, that might mean that Hestia would be more
resistant to Dorcas’ theory, but if it was true, Hestia needed to know.
Dorcas sat back down on the couch heavily, her mind whirling, exhausted and horrified by her
revelations. Grief wedged its way back into her heart, too. If this was the answer, and she’d solved
it, Dorcas would soon have to face everything that she’d been running from when she’d set her
sights on this goal. Still, the sphinx continued to stalk in front of her, and it was too soon to think
about the future. The danger wasn’t yet past, the attack not yet subdued. She hadn’t yet given her
answer.

As if to solidify that fact, it was at that moment when Dorcas heard the lock on her front door click
open. She froze for a fraction of a second, then leapt up from the couch, moving as quickly and
silently as she could. This was helped by the call now echoing through the flat, the vibration
rushing through the air that was her alarm for intruders, which muffled her sounds from the
newcomer. Dorcas drew her wand, then raced on tiptoes to the bedroom door, pressing herself to
the wall next to it, her heart beating fast as she strained to hear more.

The door opened slowly, then shut again. Dorcas held her breath as she heard the soft impact of
footsteps. Whoever had broken into her flat was moving like smoke over the floor, with barely a
creak of floorboards to indicate their position. Suddenly, the alarm stopped, the air going still
around her, though the intruder hadn’t made a sound. Dorcas felt a shiver go down her spine, a cold
that reverberated deep into her core. The person who’d broken in wasn’t only talented enough to
break her complex locking spell; they’d also managed to switch off the alarm, something only she
should be able to do. This was dark magic.

Dorcas’ hand went to the pendant at her neck, her fingers encircling it. She raised her wand,
moving to press the tip against the cold metal, but before she could whisper a message, her wand
was torn from her hand as a high, cold laugh rang through the flat. An irresistible force tugged her
body toward the doorway, and she was sucked through it, propelled by whatever magic the wizard
outside had cast, her wand left abandoned on the floor in her wake. She fell to the ground outside
and looked up at her attacker. Her eyes widened.

“Dorcas Meadowes, I presume,” Lord Voldemort said, his voice full of cruel pleasure. “I have been
interested in meeting you for a very long time, and at last, here we are.”

“Voldemort,” Dorcas breathed, staring up at him. She wished that her voice was full of defiance,
but the shock of the moment had overpowered it.

Voldemort stared back at her, a flash of anger moving across his red eyes as she used his name.
Perhaps he’d gotten used to the wizarding community being too afraid to speak it these days,
though almost everyone in the Order still called him Voldemort. His skin was pale, the tracery of
veins showing through it, and his nose was slitted, like that of a snake. Dorcas suppressed a shiver
as she thought of what a wizard had to do to make himself look like this. Still, now that the shock
had somewhat subsided, she could muster up defiance.

“Why would you want to meet me?” Dorcas asked, her eyes flitting around quickly as she did so,
trying to figure out a plan of action, or of escape. Her wand was in the bedroom, out of reach, and
the whole flat was protected against apparition or disapparition. Dorcas knew that there was only
the tiniest sliver of hope that she’d make it out of this alive. Still, she’d fight until that hope was
fully extinguished.

Voldemort smiled a cruel, lipless smile. “I was curious, you see, to learn how the daughter of two
no-account blood traitors could become such an obstacle to our cause…an obstacle which now
needs to be eliminated.”

Dorcas narrowed her eyes up at him. “Perhaps you underestimate the people you don’t
understand,” she retorted. “If my parents really were no-account blood traitors, they wouldn’t have
made me.”

“Perhaps,” Voldemort said, the single word coming out in a hiss, a smile still curling his lips up in
amusement. “I am aware that Evan Rosier underestimated you many years ago to his cost.”

Dorcas jaw clenched as she thought of Evan Rosier, his pale face flashing through her mind, blue
eyes cold as ice, blond hair smoothed back perfectly. She remembered the night that he’d died, and
Marlene had curled in a corner of this flat, sobs racking her body. And yet, Dorcas was glad he was
dead. She’d always been glad, even if she’d never said that to Marlene.

“He underestimated a lot of people to his cost,” Dorcas said, a note of satisfaction in her voice.

Voldemort looked down at her, and the cruel smile slid from his face, replaced by a very deadly
look, indeed. He raised his wand, and Dorcas felt something white-hot streak across her cheek,
sending her spinning backward. Still, she didn’t give herself a second to recover but lunged
towards her wand, just inches from where she’d fallen.

As her fingers closed around the handle, a wave of relief rushed through her, but just as quickly, it
flew out of her grasp again. Dorcas turned in time to see Voldemort raise his wand, pointing it at
her hazel wand’s path through the air, and with a quick flick of his wrist, slice it cleanly in half.
The two ends tumbled to the ground and rolled away, coming to rest at the foot of the kitchen
counter.

Dorcas let out a furious scream and jumped to her feet, letting a gust of wind tear through the flat
toward Voldemort, her wandless magic rising to meet him. He waved his wand once, and the wind
flew back at her, knocking her against the wall, the breath rushing out of her in a gasp. When
Dorcas tried to move, she realized she couldn’t—Voldemort had bound her with invisible ropes
against the wall, and when she tried to scream again, nothing came out.

“As I was saying,” Voldemort said, approaching her slowly, his red eyes fixed on her livid face.
“Evan Rosier told me much about you before he died…he was one of my most valuable Death
Eaters, you see, despite his youth, as he exhibited a quality I prize highly…do you know what that
might be?”

Dorcas glared back at him, still unable to speak.

Voldemort smiled again. “He didn’t care about anyone or anything other than himself and serving
his master,” he said. “And yet, you were the person he hated above all others…I gather that you
humiliated him some time ago. He so wanted to kill you himself…but of course, the McKinnon girl
killed him before he could. She reaped her just reward for that, did she not?”

Dorcas felt a mixture of fury and anguish rise up in her, and she struggled fruitlessly against the
spell Voldemort had cast on her again, longing to lunge at him.

Voldemort laughed softly, studying her face with satisfaction. “Ah, yes. Rosier told me of your
relationship with her, too.” He pronounced the word ‘relationship’ carefully, with about as much
disgust in it as a normal person might exhibit while discussing a rotting corpse.

A yell tore free from Dorcas’ throat as she broke from the silencing spell. “You don’t know
anything,” she screamed at him, “because no one would ever love you like I loved her!”

Voldemort’s fury crashed onto her like a wave, and silence was forced upon her again.

Voldemort leaned forward and sneered down at her. “Love is the greatest weakness known to
wizardkind,” he said silkily. “That will be abundantly clear when I’ve killed you. Will it comfort
you, I wonder, to know that you died for love?”

Dorcas struggled, trying to move her frozen vocal cords again, but this silencing spell was more
powerful than the last. She could still move her lips, though, and so she worked up a mouthful of
saliva and spat in his face. Voldemort froze, his snake eyes widening slightly as if he was
genuinely shocked at her nerve, then he stepped back and raised his wand.

As the red light of the curse connected with her trapped body, pain coursed through every nerve,
traveling from her core to every piece of her, setting her on fire. Dorcas screamed a silent scream,
her thoughts ebbing as all she felt was pain. Voldemort released her after a moment, and Dorcas
panted, her body now limp, only held up by his spell. She looked up at him to find that instead of
the cold amusement from before, his face was etched with nothing but fury. Her defiance of him
had gone too far for his liking, after all.

“I know that you have been searching for my spy in Dumbledore’s little Order of the Phoenix,” he
said coldly, his tone mocking. “I know that you have gotten very close to ruining everything…too
close. How do I know this, you ask?”

Dorcas closed her eyes, not wanting to look into his red gaze anymore. She thought she knew, and
she didn’t want to see the satisfaction in Voldemort’s eyes as he told her. “You can’t influence the
way the river flows,” Mrs. Potter had always said. If Dorcas had known what she knew now,
maybe she would’ve taken more precautions. Maybe she would’ve tried to explain better to Hestia
the importance of keeping her search for the spy a secret. It was too late, however, and Dorcas
couldn’t bring herself to blame anyone for it but herself. She hoped Hestia would never know what
she’d caused. She thought of the letter she’d sent her friend and hoped Hestia wasn’t coming.
There was no use for her to die for this, too.

“All your talk of love, and it was your own friend who betrayed you,” Voldemort said, cruel
satisfaction dripping from his voice. “Peter Pettigrew…an unlikely ally, to be sure, but a very
effective one, once I found a way to use his cowardice as a weapon for my own ends. Despite
Dumbledore’s belief in the power of love to conquer evil, it is love that will tear his precious Order
of the Phoenix apart, in the end. Love for a traitor is what caused your friend Hestia Jones to tell
Peter Pettigrew all about your search for my spy…Peter’s cowardice meant that he would always
put himself first, even over your life. Now, you will die for that love…you should feel honored…”

Dorcas’ silent sob never left her throat, and she didn’t open her eyes. Every moment she’d spent
with Peter in the past ten years rushed through her mind again, and she felt his betrayal in every
cell of her body. Perhaps he’d gotten Marlene killed, or perhaps that had been in the works without
him lifting a finger, but he was sending Dorcas to her death now, either way. Dorcas imagined him
sitting in his flat, staring at the clock, counting down the seconds, and wondering when he’d hear
the news that he was safe…that Dorcas was dead. Did he feel guilt? Did he care at all, at this point,
or had it all been torn away from him?

You killed me, Dorcas said silently to her vision of Peter, hoping that her words would travel across
the miles between them and register with him. My blood will be on your hands.

Dorcas opened her eyes and looked up again into Voldemort’s red ones. There was no help to be
had. Dorcas was backed into a corner, just like Marlene had been, stumbling down a dark hallway,
fighting for her life against unbeatable odds. And just like Marlene, Dorcas refused to beg. If this
was the end, she’d face it with courage.

Memories of her life flashed through Dorcas’ mind as she stared into Voldemort’s red eyes, his
head tilted slightly to the side as he examined her almost curiously: Dorcas’ early memories with
her parents, with Marlene, meeting James for the first time, her Sorting at Hogwarts, her adventures
 with her friends and the Marauders, falling in love with Marlene, fighting in this war, the purpose
that had driven her to become a Healer…Perhaps it was enough, if this was to be all she got.
Dorcas could’ve had decades more—should’ve had them with Marlene—but she’d done so much
with the time she’d had. Perhaps the vibrancy of the time that Dorcas had lived could make up for
the brevity of it.

Dorcas thought of her mother, her friends, and everyone in her life who would grieve for her, and
she told them silently that she loved them. She couldn’t protect them anymore, she’d failed to find
out about the spy in time to warn them, but there was nothing she could do about that. Perhaps
someone else would connect the dots before it was too late.

Dorcas still couldn’t speak, and Voldemort’s curse kept her bound to the wall, but her lips moved
to form the silent words, nevertheless: Do it .

Voldemort’s mouth curved into a lipless smile. “Your courage is admirable,” he said. “If
pointless.”

He raised his wand, and Dorcas glared back at him, determined not to give him the satisfaction of
seeing her afraid in her final moments. Voldemort’s smile faltered, and as Dorcas saw the burst of
green light and heard the rush of approaching death, Marlene’s face flashed across her vision, and
Dorcas saw her smile before it all went black.

Chapter End Notes

i'm depressed

also wait i hit 500,000 words? oof this is so past the point of being too long haha oops
 1981: Another One Bites the Dust
Chapter Notes

cw: mentions of abuse

Sometimes in situations when you can’t comprehend the horror of reality, you focus on the
smallest manageable part of it that you can deal with. Sirius was well used to this fact; he’d had far
more experience with it than he wanted to, actually. At thirteen, when Sirius’ mother had hit him
with his first Cruciatus Curse, his gaze had fixed on the shattered glass inches from his face, and to
that day, that was the image that came to mind whenever he thought of that night. Still, there was
no physical pain that could compare with the pain of finding what he had in the flat that night, of
finding out that yet another person that Sirius loved was gone.

When Sirius had found Dorcas crying over Marlene’s body in the wreck of the McKinnons’ house,
he’d focused on her tears, watched as they ran down her face and splashed onto Marlene’s bloody
cheek, merging with the dried tear tracks there. Now, he was looking down at another body, with a
different woman crying over it. Hestia’s body was racked with tears as she held Dorcas in her arms,
begging her to come back. Dorcas’ body wasn’t bloody, as Marlene’s had been, and there were no
tear tracks on her cheeks. She could’ve been alive except for the fact that her dark brown eyes were
open and staring, and her chest didn’t move up and down with breath.

Ice worked its way into Sirius’ stomach, freezing his insides, and he ran to Hestia’s side to check
Dorcas’ pulse, already knowing that it was too late. In the space of time where he registered the
stillness where her heartbeat should’ve been, his gaze caught on the earrings still in Dorcas’ ears,
which were the only part of her that was moving. His eyes fastened on them, and for a moment, he
saw nothing else.

Unbidden, a track began to play in Sirius’ mind, showing him the memory of the first time he’d
seen those earrings, in his fourth year of Hogwarts. He saw a much younger Dorcas and Marlene,
sitting in two armchairs in the Gryffindor common room, bright smiles on their faces as they teased
one another.

“Your taste in jewelry is absolutely astounding to me, Dee,” Marlene had told Dorcas, her voice
echoing back to Sirius, muffled by the time and space between that moment and this one.

“As if you know the first thing about jewelry, Marley,” Dorcas had retorted, raising an amused
eyebrow at Marlene.

They’d both been so young. Later, after Marlene had pierced one of Sirius’ ears in Dorcas’
bathroom during the summer before their sixth year, Dorcas had made Sirius his own dragon
earring. He’d worn it nonstop for almost a year, delighting in the punk rock feel of the accessory.

The dragons at Dorcas’ earlobes continued to thrash their tails, and Sirius wondered how long
they’d keep moving now that Dorcas, who’d cast the spell to animate them, was dead.

Dorcas was dead. Her skin was already cold, her eyes wide open, and her body limp, all because
she was gone from it. And Marlene was gone, too. Both were gone forever. The echoes of their
laughter still sounded in Sirius’ ears, drifting to him through the six years that separated that
moment from this one, happy and oblivious, unaware that their time was already running out.

Sirius swallowed, reaching up to close Dorcas’ eyes, feeling as if this moment was fractured into
many tiny parts, as if the sight of Dorcas’ body, the sound of Hestia’s crying, the thrash of the
miniature dragon’s tails, and the beating of his own heart all existed in different times. Marlene’s
and Dorcas’ laughter from many years ago existed there, too, alongside it all, not as separate in
Sirius’ mind as it should be.

This time, Sirius didn’t try to pull Hestia away as he’d tried to pull Dorcas from Marlene’s body.
He didn’t try to comfort her. He didn’t even try to search the flat, try to find clues of who could’ve
done this to her, as he was supposed to. Instead, Sirius sunk to his knees beside Hestia and put his
head in his hands, letting sobs tear through him, hot tears welling up between his fingers.

Gideon Prewett arrived several minutes later, the only other surviving member of the Order group
that had once included Benjy, Dorcas, Gideon, and Sirius. He sent a message to Dumbledore and
began to search the flat himself. When Dumbledore, Moody, and Dearborn arrived, Sirius heard
their voices as if from a distance. Hestia had calmed slightly by that point and was sitting with
Dorcas’ head in her lap, tears still sliding down her face, but silently now. She looked lost, broken,
and though she and Sirius didn’t exchange words, they were united in their shared grief, in the total
devastation of their loss.

After Dumbledore had done a once-over of the flat, he stood in the center of the sitting room,
looking around it contemplatively. He looked over at Dearborn, then gave a brief nod.

“Voldemort,” he said.

Dearborn looked taken aback. “Voldemort himself?” he asked incredulously, stopping in the act of
taking notes about the scene.

“I know his magic,” Dumbledore said, his tone leaving no room for objection. “This murder was
done by Lord Voldemort alone.”

There was a moment of stunned silence, then Moody spoke up. “Why would he do it himself
instead of sending a Death Eater?”

“A good question,” Dumbledore said, moving over to the far wall, which was blank, and resting
his hand on it, giving it a piercing look, as if he could see something that Sirius couldn’t. “Why,
indeed?”

His voice was quiet, contemplative, and Sirius felt a surge of anger rise up in him. Dorcas was
lying on her back in the middle of the room, her eyes closed and chest motionless. Dumbledore had
barely looked at her body once since entering the room.

“Professor Dumbledore, may I speak with you?” Hestia piped up suddenly, looking up from
Dorcas’ still form to the headmaster.

Dumbledore turned quickly and gave her a searching look. Dearborn and Moody were also looking
at her, Dearborn curiously, Moody with suspicion.

“Privately?” Hestia added, glancing quickly at both men before looking back to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore examined her for a split-second longer, then gave a swift nod. “In here,” he said,
gesturing towards the bedroom.

Hestia wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, gently lay Dorcas’ head on the ground, then
pushed herself up from the floor, giving Dorcas’ body a final look before following Dumbledore.
The door closed behind her, and Sirius heard the unnatural silence fall which meant that a silencing
charm had been cast.

Sirius sniffed, wiping his nose with his sleeve, then rose to his feet, too. He moved over toward the
kitchen and crouched down at the base of the counter, where the two halves of Dorcas’ hazel and
unicorn hair wand lay. He picked them up, then moved back over to Dorcas, and, without quite
knowing why, set the two pieces down next to her body. The movement of her dragon earrings was
already beginning to slow, and Sirius had to blink tears away from his eyes as he looked away.

Instead of sitting down next to Dorcas again, Sirius moved over to the blank wall on the far side of
the room, searching for whatever Dumbledore had seen there. It remained empty, however, not
giving up its secret. Sirius rested his hand against it and felt nothing but drywall on contact. If there
had ever been something to find there, it was gone.

“I’m really sorry, Sirius, mate,” a voice said behind him, and Sirius turned to see Gideon standing
there. His expression was filled with regret and sympathy, brown eyes somber as he looked at
Sirius.

Sirius nodded. “Thanks,” he replied, his words feeling hollow. “So am I.”

When Hestia and Dumbledore re-emerged from the bedroom, neither of their expressions gave any
clue as to what they’d been discussing. Dumbledore turned to Moody and Dearborn.

“We will have to meet about this,” he said. “But first, has the Dark Mark over the building been
taken care of?”

Moody nodded. “We’ve gotten rid of it,” he said. “Who will tell her parents the news?”

His eyes flicked to Dorcas’ body on the floor, and Sirius was shocked to see the sorrow in his gaze.
Moody always made it seem like he didn’t care for anyone or anything, but perhaps he really had
cared about Marlene, and by extension, Dorcas.

“I’ll tell them,” Dearborn said heavily, a shadow of grief moving over his lined face, too.

Sirius thought, then, about how long both of these men must’ve worked with Diana Meadowes,
how they both were her friends, in one way or another. Now, they were looking down at her
daughter, dead upon the floor. Maybe they’d met Dorcas before she’d joined the Order, before
she’d even gone to Hogwarts. Perhaps she’d come into work with her mother sometimes, a little
girl with curly hair and a toothy smile, hanging off Diana’s arm. Just like with Sirius’ memory of
Marlene and Dorcas from their fourth year at Hogwarts, this version of Dorcas seemed present in
the room with them, despite the fact that Sirius had never even known her then.

“What about—” Sirius began his question, but his voice cracked, and he had to wait a moment
before he could finish it. “What about her?” His voice was quieter now, and it sounded small, like
that of a child.

He’d never gotten the chance to ask this about Marlene. On that day, Sirius had focused all his
energy into making sure that Dorcas was alright because he just couldn’t bear looking at Marlene’s
body for too long…couldn’t bear reflecting on the death of the person who may have been his best
friend in the whole world, other than James. Then, at one point, when Sirius had looked back,
Marlene’s body had just been gone.

“We’ve called St. Mungo’s,” Moody said, and his voice was almost gentle, the look in his eyes soft
as he turned his attention on Sirius, as if he knew that anything less would cause Sirius to break
apart. “They’ll take her body to the morgue. From there, her parents will decide how to put her to
rest.”

Sirius thought of Regulus, suddenly, of how that should’ve been his decision, and of how Moody
had refused to look for his brother, had denied him that choice. Still, it was hard to feel angry right
then, especially when Moody was showing his own grief, too. More than a year had passed
between that day and this one, and to Sirius, it sometimes felt like decades. Regulus had been the
first loss, and Dorcas was the latest. Sirius knew that more would come. He hoped that the grief
would get easier. He prayed that it might. He knew that it wouldn’t.

“You should go,” Dearborn told Sirius, Hestia, and Gideon. “There’s no point in lingering here any
longer.”

Sirius looked around the flat, wondering if it was worth arguing the point. Part of him wanted to
stay there forever, refusing to let time move forward from this moment, but he thought that
Dearborn might be right. He’d come back later, perhaps, to help Dorcas’ parents clear it out after
the Ministry and the Order turned over everything to see if there were any further clues to what had
happened. James would want to come, too, along with Lily, but they wouldn’t be allowed to.

Sirius felt another pang go through him. James and Lily…someone would have to tell them. It
should be him. It was the last thing he wanted to do, but they needed to know. Remus and Peter,
too. Sirius’ thoughts lingered over Remus, guilt creeping in. Sirius had been with Remus at their
flat when he’d gotten the SOS message and had promised to tell him what had happened as soon as
he arrived back, and yet Sirius wasn’t sure he wanted to go back directly and see Remus. He’d tell
James and Lily first.

“Fine,” Sirius said.

He looked around at the flat, then, reluctantly, back down at Dorcas’ body. His throat constricted,
and he tore his eyes away. He wished that he could move her so that she wasn’t just lying there in
the middle of it all, but there was nothing he could do with her body that would make it any better,
really. The people from St. Mungo’s would take her. That had to be enough.

Gideon led the way out of the flat, Hestia and Sirius trailing behind him. He gave them both a nod,
then, after checking the hallway, disapparated. Before Hestia could do the same, however, Sirius
put a hand on her shoulder, pulling her back.

“What did you tell Dumbledore?” he asked, his voice low, his gaze flicking toward the closed door,
then back and forth down the hallway. Hestia looked up at him, her brown eyes searching his for a
moment. She hesitated, then shook her head, her gaze regretful.

“I can’t,” she replied. “I really can’t say, Sirius. I’m sorry.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes at her for a moment, frustration blooming inside him. She returned his
glare with a steady look, and after a moment, he sighed and looked away. He knew that she was
just doing what Dumbledore had told her to do, but he wanted to know what she knew. Sirius hated
the fact that he wasn’t allowed to know this—that he couldn’t be privy to the reason that he’d just
found his friend dead in her flat. It wasn’t fair, but then again, nothing was these days.

“Alright,” he said, trying unsuccessfully to suppress the bite in his voice. “Fine.”

“I really am sorry,” Hestia said, and Sirius nodded, not meeting her gaze. There was a moment of
silence, then she asked tentatively: “Are you going to tell Lily and James?”
“Yeah,” Sirius said, sighing. “I was going to go there, now.”

“I’ll tell Em,” Hestia said, her voice clouding with tears for a moment. “Mary and Peter, too.”

“Alright,” Sirius agreed. That just left Remus for him to tell. The other Order members could find
out in their own time. He looked up at her, head tilting slightly to one side. “I suppose I’ll see you
later.”

Hestia nodded, and they paused for a second, staring at each other. Then, in one smooth moment,
they both moved, and Sirius wasn’t sure who wrapped their arms around who first, only that they
were clutching each other tightly in a hug. Sirius buried his chin into Hestia’s shoulder, his arms
wrapped around her waist. He felt her body shake against his and knew that she was crying again.
He swallowed his own tears back with an effort. They stood there for a very long moment before
releasing their grip on one another and stepping back. She gave him a sad look, wiping her eyes,
and he gave her a nod in return. Then, each turned on the spot, off to break the news to their
friends.

When Sirius appeared in the backyard of the Potters’ house in Godric’s Hollow, he strode
immediately to the back door and knocked. Looking down at his watch, he saw that it was quarter
past ten, and hoped that they’d still be up.

He heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door and stepped back. It was Lily who opened it,
her dark red hair pulled back into a messy bun. Her expression was full of anxiety, and when her
green gaze fell on Sirius’ face, her eyes widened with fear.

“What happened?” she demanded, pulling him inside and locking the door quickly behind him with
her wand, reinforcing the protective enchantments that had been cast around the house.

“Is James up?” Sirius asked, reluctant to meet her gaze or answer her question just yet. He didn’t
want to tell this story any more times than he had to.

“Of course,” Lily replied impatiently, moving toward the sitting room, Sirius following slowly in
her wake. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Sirius’ brow furrowed in confusion at her words, but when he entered the sitting room, he
understood.

Remus sat in one of the armchairs across from James, the look on his face pure anxiety. James sat
with his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. Harry wasn’t there, luckily; no doubt he was
upstairs, sleeping. When Lily entered with Sirius on her tail, both men looked up. Remus’ blue
eyes flickered with doubt as he met Sirius’ gaze, and Sirius felt a twinge of guilt go through him
again. He knew that Remus would be able to see right through him, that he’d be able to tell that
Sirius hadn’t done as he’d promised: he’d come here first, rather than back to the flat to give
Remus the news.

James’ hazel eyes were full of desperation as he looked up at Sirius. “What happened?” he asked,
echoing his wife, his fingers tapping a panicked rhythm on his knee.

Sirius looked to Remus, who supplied the answer to his unspoken question.

“I came here to wait for news,” Remus said. “I figured you might come here. I told them about the
message you got.”

Sirius tried not to let suspicion cloud his mind, tried not to feel reproach toward Remus for coming
to tell James and Lily, but he failed.
“I—” he began, but broke off, swallowing. He hated to look at their faces, their dread, knowing
that he couldn’t assuage their worries, only confirm them. He remembered the words that he’d
shouted at Dorcas, only a week before: “I refuse to let you die because you don’t care about
anything anymore!” Sirius had failed to protect her. He hadn’t been good enough. How could he
tell them that?

“She—” he started again, the words catching in his throat as he tried to get the information out.

Lily’s gaze locked with his, horror in her green eyes, and Sirius realized that they already knew
what he was about to say. They must’ve known as soon as Remus had arrived, just as Sirius had
known what he’d find as soon as he’d gotten the message: SOS - Dorcas’ flat . It’d been too similar
to the one he’d received on the night that the McKinnons had died to be anything else.

“Dorcas is dead,” Sirius said finally, the words tumbling out of his mouth on an exhale, his eyes
moving to the floor as he said it. “Hestia found her body. She was the one who sent the SOS
message.”

The room was perfectly silent for a moment, and when Sirius chanced a glance up at them, the
sight broke his heart all over again. Remus’ face was frozen, almost blank, his blue eyes distant.
James and Lily both stared up at Sirius in shock, Lily’s eyes filling with sudden tears when Sirius
met her gaze. She shook her head slightly, her lips moving, but no sound came out.

James’ face was the worst, though. His lips parted as he stared at Sirius, his expression unfurling
into the most broken look Sirius had ever seen on his best friend’s face. He looked like a man
who’d lost everything and was just trying to figure out where it’d all gone. His parents, Marlene,
her family, and now, Dorcas. It was as if something had reached down and taken a great scoop out
of his life: taking away everyone and everything he’d known before the age of eleven.

“She—she can’t,” James said softly, staring at Sirius as if hoping he’d take it all back. “She can’t
be…” His voice trailed off, and Sirius felt tears fill his own eyes again.

Sirius gave a slight shake of his head. “I’m so sorry, Prongs,” he said helplessly, his throat
painfully constricted. He had no idea what else to say. Nothing could make this better, not for any
of them.

James stared back at him for another moment, then leaned forward and buried his face in his hands
once again, sobs beginning to rack his body as his shoulders shook. Lily moved closer to him,
wrapping her arms around his shoulders and clutching him tightly to her. She buried her face in his
shoulder, and Sirius could see her own tears beginning to stain his shirt.

Sirius looked back at Remus, whose gaze was still heartbreakingly blank, and sorrow filled Sirius.
He knew, without knowing how he knew it, that Remus was thinking of his mother, who’d died
just three weeks before, and Marlene, no more than two weeks before that. Just like James, Remus
was thinking of all the things he’d lost, and Sirius couldn’t stand it. He moved toward Remus
tentatively and crouched down in front of him.

Remus’ eyes refocused, and he looked at Sirius almost warily, fear and grief and longing all
coalescing into one look. Sirius reached out cautiously, pulling Remus forward and wrapping his
arms around him in a hug. After a moment of hesitation, Remus tightened his hold on Sirius, and
Sirius felt him shake in his arms, a quiet tremble as Remus tried to keep from falling apart, just as
Sirius did the same.

Sirius was overcome by a wave of shame along with his grief. He hated distrusting Remus, hated
the doubt that had crept in from some dark corner of his mind, which he didn’t know how to
banish. At that moment, Sirius knew with perfect certainty that this pain couldn’t be faked, that
Remus could’ve never done this to their friend, and that he could’ve never caused this grief. He
hoped that this would keep him from doubting Remus in the future. He prayed that it might. He
knew that it wouldn’t.
 1981: The Chosen One
Chapter Notes

cw: mentions of major and non-major character deaths

P.S. The timeline of this chapter overlaps with the last few, so many events mentioned
have already taken place before. Hope that's not too confusing.

July 18th, 1981

Dear Lily,

I just heard about Marlene and her family…I’m so sorry. I had a whole different letter written to
you, all about the situation with the prophecy and Neville and Harry, but I scrapped it after
hearing this news. I know that you must be hurting a lot right now. I know I am, and I didn’t know
Marlene the way that you and James did. To me, she was my friend and coworker, but I know that
to you, and to James, she was family. If you ever want to talk, in the limited way we’re able to at
the moment, I’m here.

Much love,

Alice

....

July 24th, 1981

Alice,

Thanks for writing. These past few days have been terrible. I never expected to have to deal with
this kind of loss. Perhaps we all knew the risks in joining the Order, but I think a naive part of me
always believed that we’d all be alright in the end. That impression is long gone. Still, I don’t think
Marlene would’ve wanted me to lose hope, so I’m trying not to. I won’t pretend it’s easy.

What makes it worse is our lack of contact with the outside world. Before at least, it felt like we
were able to do something to help, but now, it’s all waiting. I imagine it must be similar for you.
The news we do get is all snippets from our friends when they come to visit, and it feels like they’re
holding things back, like they don’t want to tell us how bad things really are. I hate it, and there’s
nothing to do to distract me. Perhaps we can keep writing and that’ll help. I hope you’re doing
well.

Lily

....

July 26th, 1981

Lily,
I can only imagine how hard this must be for you. You’re brave for trying. Getting up every
morning takes strength, these days.

I’m doing alright, everything considered. I’m worried about everything: about me and Frank and
Neville, about you and James and Harry, about all our friends in the Order, and about everyone
outside of it, too. It seems like the whole world is falling apart right now, not just the magical one.
I keep thinking about the prophecy and going over and over it in my head. It doesn’t feel quite real
sometimes, and then, at others, it feels too real.

Frank and I are also having trouble with our isolation from the rest of the world, just like you.
Benjy comes by to visit when he can, but he’s pretty busy, and, of course, Dumbledore doesn’t want
anyone visiting too often, for safety’s sake. Benjy’s paranoid about the spy, and he worries about
us. It’s still hard for me to believe that someone in the Order is really passing information to
Voldemort. Do you believe it? Have you thought at all about who it might be? Frank has theories,
but none of them make much sense to me.

Alice

....

July 28th, 1981

Alice,

It’s strange to say this now, after Harry’s first year, when all I dreamed of was having the chance
to sleep in, but now I’m glad that I have Harry to get me up in the morning. He can’t walk yet, but
he’s taken to standing up at the crack of dawn and banging on the bars of his crib to get us to wake
up and get him. It’s obnoxious yet endearing, which I suppose means he’s truly James’ son.

I know what you mean about the world feeling like it’s going to shit all around us. Sometimes I
think about what my life would be like now if I wasn’t a witch, if I’d grown up a Muggle, or just
never gone to Hogwarts. I like to think I’d be rioting with the rest of them, angry and trying to fight
back, just like when I joined the Order. It always felt like I had more power or ability to help
because I’m a witch, but now I feel more powerless than ever. It’s strange.

I have to believe that Dumbledore is right about there being a spy in the Order of the Phoenix, even
if I don’t like it. I’m not sure thinking about who it is will help me, as I know I wouldn’t really be
able to solve it myself. When I do think about it, it always makes me feel more panicked than ever,
so I try not to. James refuses to talk about it, or speculate with me, which is probably a good thing.
Maybe it’s also a good thing that I don’t know much, stuck in here, so I don’t have to worry about
who to keep information secret from. I think Sirius is making himself crazy with suspicion. James is
worried about him, and so am I.

Wish Neville a happy birthday from me in two days!

Lily

....

August 1st, 1981

Lily,

I suppose Harry inherited being a morning person from James, too. I don’t envy you. I’d love
Neville even if he woke me up at the crack of dawn, but I’m glad he doesn’t. He’s always been a
quiet baby, bless him. My mum says that I’m lucky since I apparently screamed my way through
my whole first three years of life, which Frank thinks is absolutely hilarious.

Thank you for the birthday wishes! I hope you had a good birthday for Harry, too. Frank’s mum
came over to ours on Neville’s birthday, along with my dad, and they really do get along like a
house on fire, which I’m not sure is a good thing. Frank’s mum wore a hat with a stuffed swan on
it, and Neville grabbed at its wing at one point—not pretty. Augusta wasn’t happy, but I found the
whole thing quite funny if I’m honest. I’ve attached a picture. Just a little bit of joy among these
dark days.

I think a lot about how things could’ve been different. Of course, I was always raised in the
magical world, but sometimes I wonder what things might be like if people in power cared more. If
more people had acted years ago, maybe the wizarding world would’ve never reached this point.
Maybe things will be better in the future if we make it out of this. Who knows?

I agree that it’s probably not good to think about the spy, and it’ll only make us crazy. I’m sorry
that Sirius is having a hard time with it, though it doesn’t surprise me, after getting to know him in
Auror training. He’s had a hard go of it in life. I suppose it’s only natural that he has trouble
trusting. Merlin, I just hope that Dumbledore finds out who it is soon, so we can all stop suspecting
each other. Have you communicated with him at all lately?

Alice

....

August 2nd, 1981

Alice,

Your last letter made me laugh out loud, especially with the picture! Jesus Christ. Neville really
did a number on that bird. Your mother-in-law sounds like a real piece of work! I can’t imagine
how Frank turned out so mellow.

In the spirit of sharing the laughter, I have enclosed a copy of a picture of Harry’s birthday. For
context, Sirius got him a toy broomstick (this wasn’t cleared with me ahead of time), and he’s
wrecked half our house with it by now. He loves it, and James is really pleased, too. Callie’s not so
big of a fan. She’s been hiding for the past couple of days, poor girl.

Other than the mayhem with the toy broomstick, Harry’s birthday was quiet. My dad wasn’t able
to come—he’s been stressed with work and things—but Bathilda Bagshot, one of our neighbors,
came by to have tea with us. She loves Harry, and she thinks James is a charmer, so she visits now
and again. I think that Dumbledore might also have told her to keep an eye on us, but I’m not sure
he’d like that she’s also taken it upon herself to tell us about all of his youthful exploits. I’m not
sure I believe half of them, but you never know.

The tide feels like it’s turning against us, spy or no spy. I try not to think that way, but I don’t know
how else to deal with everything that’s happened. I haven’t heard anything from Dumbledore in a
while. He’d better be working on it. If he doesn’t find out who it is soon, I think that the Order
might actually break apart. Or we’ll all die. One of the two.

Lily

....

August 5th, 1981

Lily,

That picture is really something. I wish we could’ve celebrated our boys’ birthdays together. In my
head, when I found out that you were pregnant and realized that our due dates would probably be
days from each other, I imagined a whole life of our boys being the best of friends, having
playdates over at each other’s houses every week, and then sending them off to Hogwarts together.
Perhaps we can still have that someday. I hope so.

I couldn’t tell if you were joking or not in your last letter. I think about death a lot these days. So
many people are dying, so I suppose it’s hard not to. I sort of hope I’m not alone in it, though I
shouldn’t wish it on another person. Either way, I think you’re right that if Dumbledore doesn’t
figure out who the spy is soon, the Order might just have to dissolve, one way or another. Benjy
says that no one is even looking each other in the eye anymore. He echoed what you said about
Sirius, in particular, seeming suspicious of everyone and everything. He also said Dorcas was “off
the rails,” though he wouldn’t give me specifics. Have you spoken to her recently? How is she
holding up?

Sorry for this depressing response to your lighthearted letter. I’m having trouble feeling hopeful,
these days.

Alice

....

August 16th, 1981

Alice,

I’m so sorry. I wanted to write back sooner, and then I couldn’t think of anything to say that
wouldn’t just be echoing what you did. Then I heard the news, and I had to write. I’m so sorry
about Benjy. I know that you, Frank, and he were friends all through Hogwarts. I wish I could say I
can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now, but unfortunately, I can imagine it, and it’s terrible.
It’s all terrible. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say. I never imagined this would happen again,
less than a month after Marlene’s family. Now all I can think is: who’s next? I hate that thought.

I wanted to tell you that you’re not alone. Yes, I think about death more than I want to these days,
too. It feels like it’s all around us. I’m sorry for the joke I made in my last letter. Given what just
happened, it feels terrible that I made a joke about it.

I don’t want to ask, but I feel like I have to: is it true that Benjy’s death was related to the
prophecy? It was Mary that made me think of it since she reminded me that Benjy worked in the
Department of Mysteries, where they keep all those prophecies. I feel terrible to think that Benjy
might have died to keep us and our boys safe, but I also can’t help feeling incredibly grateful, if he
did. God. I can’t stand this. I hate the way we live now.

To answer your question, Dorcas isn’t doing well, but I think that’s to be expected. Marlene was
the love of her life, after all. I’m not sure that there’s anything that can fill that gap. James and I
are trying to be there for her however we can, but since we can’t leave the house, and we can’t
make her come to visit, there’s little we can do. I feel helpless.

Sending love,

Lily
 ....

August 19th, 1981

Lily,

Thank you, Lily. I don’t really know what to say, either. I’m devastated. I’m furious. I never
imagined I could be as angry as I am now. I’m angry at everything.

Dumbledore won’t give us answers. At one point, I thought I was going to storm out of our house
and just go to Hogwarts to confront him, but Frank talked me down. Sometimes I still want to,
though, and I think I would if not for Neville. He can’t just keep giving us the same answers. He
can’t just keep dealing the same platitudes and hope we’ll still hero-worship him like we did when
we were students. Benjy’s gone now, and I’m so tired of sitting and waiting for something to
happen. He’s got to give us more.

I’m sorry, but I don’t know any more than you do. Frank and I have the same suspicions, but, like I
said, Dumbledore either doesn’t know or isn’t sharing the truth with us. It makes me miss Benjy all
the more because I know that he would’ve died for Neville, and for us. He would’ve died for
Harry, too, even though he barely even met him. He deserved so much more than this. His family
deserved more. They didn’t even get a whole body to bury. Every time I think about it, I want to
scream, cry, and throw things against the wall. I’ve never lost anyone before, not to death, at least.
I don’t know how to reconcile the fact that he’s just gone from our lives. How did you do it with
Marlene?

Alice

....

August 20th, 1981

Alice,

I can’t say that I know of any method that will make grieving easier. I’ve grieved for my mother,
James’ parents, and now Marlene, but I still don’t know how to do it, and I don’t think anyone
really does. The way it happens for me is that everything comes all at once, and it’s terrible, and
unfortunately, there’s no real way around it. It helps to remember the person, tell stories about
them, and share grief with other people, but it’s not like those things make you feel okay, they just
make it easier to bear. Then, you just have to wait. Time happens, and life happens, and one day
you’ll realize that you’re not crying as much. When you realize it, it feels awful, too, like you’re
forgetting about the person. When I stopped crying all the time about my mum, it felt like a
betrayal, like I was supposed to cry about her forever because she deserved all of my grief. But
then I realized that I still thought about her almost every day, but I was thinking about the good
memories with her instead, and that felt more alright. I haven’t reached that point yet with
Marlene.

With Marlene, it’s terrible realizing all the places she’s now gone from. I think all of us who were
close to her feel that way. Parts of us just feel like they’re missing, and being together doesn’t feel
the same without her. There are so many moments when I want to tell her something, and I’ll forget
for a second that I can’t. I can see the same thing happening for James, too, and Sirius: the exact
moment where I’ll see their faces fall when they realize that Marley can’t hear the joke they just
told.

That’s really the hardest part of losing someone, in my opinion: realizing all the moments in your
life that you won’t be able to share with them in the future. James and I always thought that Harry
would grow up with his Aunt Marlene, who would spoil him on every birthday, teach him how to
prank, and probably give him the sex talk because both of us would be too embarrassed to do it. I
hate that now, he won’t even remember her. I imagine that you probably feel the same things about
Benjy, with Neville. I’m sorry that I don’t know how to make that easier.

Lily

....

August 24th, 1981

Lily,

I heard about Dorcas…I’m sorry feels like a constant refrain these days. Is there something better I
can say? I don’t know. I don’t know. I’m sorry.

Love,

Alice

....

September 1st, 1981

Alice,

I’m sorry, too.

I got the news that my dad died a couple of days after Dorcas. A heart attack. I’m exhausted by the
grief of it. Grieving is exhausting. Getting letters and hugs and hearing condolences is exhausting.
Sending them to other people is exhausting. Getting up in the morning when it feels like nothing is
going right anymore and what’s the point anyway is exhausting. James hardly ever smiles
anymore, not like he used to. Harry cries, too, and I know it’s because he can feel how sad we both
are and is reacting to it, and I don’t know how to comfort him because I don’t know how to
comfort myself, or James.

Dumbledore told us that we can’t go to the funerals. He won’t let us leave the house at all, now. I
can’t even see my own father laid to rest, Alice, or say goodbye to one of my best friends. My sister
doesn’t understand. She says that I’m being selfish, but that’s nothing new. She blames me for my
father’s death, just like she blamed me for my mother’s—she said that two parents don’t just die
within three years of each other, and so it must be my fault somehow. My aunts on my mum’s side
have moved to Rome, and they won’t be there, either, and my dad doesn’t have any other family.
My dad deserved more. He deserved to have his own daughter at his funeral. I wish I could give
him that. He always tried to protect me throughout my whole life, and now he’s gone. I wish he
could protect me from all of this.

Dorcas’ mum and dad came by the other day to see me and James. James said they looked years
older than the last time he saw them, but to me, they just looked broken. They decided to cremate
Dorcas and scatter her ashes. Marlene’s family said they could scatter them on their land in
Ireland, near where Marlene is buried. That seems like a good place for her, at least.

Did you know that Dorcas was the only real friend I had in my early years at Hogwarts? I refuse to
count Snape, not after everything he’s done. I isolated myself from everyone because of him, and
Dorcas was the only person who reached out to me because she was generous and open, and she
knew I needed someone. God, I miss her. She was all James had left from before Hogwarts. He
misses her like a missing limb. How are we going to survive this? Sometimes I feel like I died, too.

Lily

....

September 5th, 1981

Lily,

I’m so sorry about your father, and that it had to happen just as you lost Dorcas, too. We survive
because it’s what we have to do. If I may, I’ll refer back to what you said to me in the last letter,
about how grief works. This is what I learned from you: it’ll be unbearable, unstoppable, and feel
unsurvivable at first, and then, over time, you’ll learn how to hold the people you’ve lost in your
heart, and it’ll get easier. Dorcas will always exist in your memory as that girl who reached out to
you when you needed her because that’s who she was. She won’t ever leave you. Neither will your
father.

I understand what you mean by being exhausted by grief. I am, too. I wish all these terrible things
would stop happening. If I knew how to stop it, I’d sacrifice anything to let us live in peace again.

Dumbledore let me and Frank go to Benjy’s funeral. I’m not sure why he let us but not you. Maybe
because we’re Aurors? I don’t know. It’s been nothing but radio silence from Dumbledore lately.
Has he told you anything? Given you any updates? Please let me know if he has.

Alice

....

September 8th, 1981

Alice,

I’m trying to remember that, so thank you for reminding me. I’d sacrifice anything to have the
world safe again, too.

Unfortunately, we haven’t heard anything from Dumbledore lately, either. He didn’t reply when
James sent him an irate message a few days ago when we got your letter, asking him why we
couldn’t go out to Dorcas’ or my father’s funeral when you and Frank could go to Benjy’s. James
is restless. He can’t stand being cooped up here, and the anxiety, the fear, the terrible things
happening, they all make it a hundred times worse. I’d be worried that he’d do something risky if it
was just him, but I know he won’t as long as it puts me and Harry in danger, too.

It’s strange to remember that it’s Harry we’re doing all of this to protect—me and James staying in
hiding, I mean. It feels like we’re just all equally in danger, which I suppose in some way we are.
Still, I think I feel like that because I can’t ever imagine losing him and surviving it. It’s not a
choice to protect him. There’s no other possible option in my mind. James feels the same way.

It’s strange that Harry or Neville are supposedly the ones that’ll save the world, but really, I want
to save the world for them. I want to protect my son from the things that it might be his destiny to
fight. I hate the thought that he might be saddled for his whole life with the idea that it’s his job to
save the wizarding world from stuff that’s not his fault and started way before he was born. I
suppose that’s what we’re all trying to do, too, though.
Lily

....

September 24th, 1981

Dear Alice,

I write this letter with a heavy heart, one which is both weighed down by grief but also filled with
joy for you. You haven’t written in a while. I imagine you sitting to write a reply to my last letter,
then not being able to find the words. I hope you’d never believe that I’d resent you for how things
turned out. I know that we shared the burden of being hunted from the start, but I could never hate
you because Voldemort decided to target Harry rather than Neville. On the contrary, I’m filled
with relief for you and your family, and I wish you all the joy in the world. I mean this very
sincerely, and I really hope that you don’t feel guilty. I’d never, ever blame you for Voldemort’s
choices, and you shouldn’t blame yourself for them, either.

I’m scared, Alice. I’m terrified for Harry, for James, for myself, and for everyone I care about.
There’s this vague sense of looming dread that’s taken over me this last week, since Dumbledore
told us about Voldemort targeting us, and I can’t shake it. Please don’t be angry at me for saying
this, but I feel like I won’t survive this war. Dumbledore is making a plan to keep us safe, of course,
but I don’t know if I have confidence in him anymore. I have a sense that Dumbledore has known
about this for a while, just like with the prophecy. Even now, I can’t shake the feeling that he
knows more than he’s telling us.

We’ve all lost so much to this cause. Sometimes I feel like it’s arrogance to believe that I’ll be able
to survive when Marlene and Dorcas couldn’t, when Benjy couldn’t, and when Edgar’s whole
family was murdered in their house just days ago. No matter how good their protection spells were,
or how many precautions they took, they still died. Who am I to think that I will be any better at
protecting myself than them? Why do I deserve to survive when they were all murdered? Maybe
I’m meant to die in this war alongside them. Sometimes I think about how my mum’s gone, and
now my dad, and Dorcas and Marlene, and how it seems like there are fewer and fewer people to
grieve for me if I die. So many people are gone. I feel like I should’ve gotten used to it by now, but I
never have.

Maybe Harry will survive, if the prophecy really is about him, and he’s meant to defeat Voldemort.
Maybe whatever power the prophecy says he has will protect him. I’m just not sure it’ll protect me
and James, and I wish I didn’t have to think about him growing up without us. James tells me not to
worry, but I can tell that he’s terrified out of his mind as well.

The thing is, we’re still kids. We always have been, even though fighting in this war has made us
feel like adults, and we’ve been trained like soldiers. Those are all just disguises that hide the fact
that we’re a dwindling group of people who just stopped being children a few years ago, and we’re
just trying to do what’s right, even though we’re in way over our heads. I don’t feel the same way
that I did when I was eighteen, still in Hogwarts and being recruited for the Order by Dumbledore.
I was so full of hope then, and I really believed that we could change things. Now, I’m just scared.
Still, even knowing all that I now know, I don’t think I’d choose differently. That comforts me, at
least.

I just wish I knew that Harry will be alright. I wish I knew if he’ll survive, how he’ll grow up, and if
he’ll be happy. I wish I could be certain that I’ll be able to see him become the person that I know
he’s supposed to become, and I’m not talking about the prophecy here. If I can’t raise him or
watch him grow up, I hope he’ll still have people to protect and love him as he becomes what he’s
meant to be. I hope that you’ll be one of those people, Alice, if you’re able to be.
I’m sorry for this awful letter and all my fear and sadness I’ve unburdened onto you. I hope it
doesn’t ruin your day. I wish all the best to you and your family, and I hope you get a happy
ending, even if I can’t have one myself. Please say hello to Frank for me, and give Neville a kiss
from me as well.

Much love,

Lily
 1981: Stay Alive
Chapter Notes

Happy Juneteenth!

cw: non-major character deaths

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Mary stood between Hestia and Emmeline in a little churchyard in Devon one morning in early
October, looking down at another set of coffins as they were lowered slowly into the ground. The
low fog and slight but persistent drizzle had made Mary’s hair damp, sticking to the back of her
neck, though her eyes were dry as her gaze was fixed blankly in front of her. Mary felt numb
watching it all happen, her arm tight around Hestia as she cried, Emmeline on her other side, jaw
clenched as she fought back tears of her own.

Across from her, Mary registered the figure of Molly Weasley, her flaming red curls escaping the
bun she’d tried to restrain them with, a hand covering her mouth as she sobbed into her
handkerchief. Her husband, Arthur, had an arm around her waist, his expression solemn, eyes filled
with tears behind his rain-speckled glasses. Two boys stood beside the couple, both pale-faced and
serious. The elder of the two, who looked to be about ten or eleven, was holding his mother’s free
hand, clearly trying to mirror their father in comforting her. The younger boy, probably around
eight, stood still next to his father, his gaze trained on the graves, eyes wide with shock.

Mary had never met Gideon and Fabian’s older sister or their nieces and nephews before. Still,
she’d heard a lot about them at Order meetings, where they’d proudly show off pictures of the
family whenever they gained a new member. There were seven children in all, Mary knew from
Hestia, who’d shared a patrol group with Fabian, but clearly only these two oldest had been
allowed to attend the funeral for their uncles. Mary remembered with a pang that Hestia had told
her less than a month ago that Molly had just had another baby—the lone daughter in a sea of boys.
That little girl would never know Fabian and Gideon, who, Mary was sure, had been the best
uncles Molly’s children could’ve ever hoped for.

When the two coffins came to rest at the bottom of the graves, Mary heard the familiar sound of
the swish of wands and the earth coming smoothly down to cover the fresh graves like a blanket.
Before this year, Mary had only been to two funerals in her life. Once when she’d been five, and
her grandmother had died, which she could barely remember, and the second time, when she’d
been seventeen, attending Lily’s mum’s funeral. In this year alone, Mary had attended six funerals
so far: those for the McKinnons, Benjy Fenwick, Dorcas, Lily’s father on Lily’s behalf, Edgar
Bones and his family, and now, this one, for Fabian and Gideon Prewett. Six funerals, for thirteen
people who’d died, all in the space of only two and a half months. Mary hated it with every fiber of
her being. She didn’t want to see any more people lowered into the ground, no more ashes
scattered, no more friends to be mourned.

Mary couldn’t bring tears to her eyes even though she tried. She wanted to cry, to sob, to scream to
the heavens that they’d taken enough—too much—and that it needed to stop, but she couldn’t.
There was a heavy, leaden feeling in her chest, in her stomach, which blocked the tears from
coming and prevented her from releasing any of her grief that easily. Mary couldn’t lift it.
Mary’s gaze flicked toward Alice and Frank, standing a few yards to the right of the Weasleys, and
for a moment, Alice’s gaze met hers. After only a second, however, Alice looked away, back down
at the graves. Mary knew that Alice felt guilty for how things had turned out, how she and Frank
were now able to go out and attend their friends’ funerals, while James and Lily were still in
hiding. A weight had been lifted off of their shoulders and placed neatly on top of the one that
James and Lily already carried. Mary wished that she could resent Alice for it, wished that it could
be that easy to place blame, but she didn’t. Alice was her friend, had been her friend since her third
year of Hogwarts, and Mary couldn’t wish Voldemort on her or her son, even if it saved Lily and
Harry.

Mary also knew that just because the Longbottoms didn’t seem to be in Voldemort’s direct line of
fire anymore, that didn’t mean that they were safe. None of them were safe. This funeral proved
that. How the Death Eaters had found Gideon and Fabian, who’d taken to moving from place to
place as a precaution, was a mystery to all. Why Death Eaters had chosen the twins for their next
target was unknown, too. All the Order knew was that when Moody and Sturgis had turned up to
answer the alarm call, Gideon and Fabian had been backed into a corner by five Death Eaters and
were fighting for their lives. They’d managed to kill one Death Eater, and Moody and Sturgis
helped them drive off the rest, at the cost of Moody’s right eye. Still, it’d been too late for the
Prewetts, as Gideon had been struck by a killing curse in the final moments of the battle, and
Fabian bled out from the cursed wounds one of the Death Eaters had inflicted before they could be
healed.

Mary glanced over at Moody and Sturgis, standing side by side at the foot of the two graves.
Sturgis looked sad and defeated, his normally fluffy blonde hair flattened by rain and stuck to his
forehead, blue eyes downcast. He’d been the closest in age to the Prewett twins out of anyone in
the Order, the oldest of the younger generation, and though Mary wasn’t sure if they’d been close
friends or not, their loss was clearly a blow to him. Next to him, Moody’s jaw was clenched. His
left eye was fixed on the grave, while his right, which had been replaced by an eerie, electric-blue
prosthetic, was swiveling around almost agitatedly in its socket. It caught on Mary, and she looked
away quickly, shivering.

Mary didn’t register the end of the ceremony until Emmeline gave a tug on her arm. “It’s time to
go,” she said softly, and Mary looked up, trying to focus on Emmeline’s dark brown gaze. She
gave a nod, not speaking, and cast one last look back at the graves.

Mary thought that this was the worst part of funerals: the part when they were over, and you were
just supposed to walk away from the grave and go about the rest of your day. From across the
graves, she could see Arthur Weasley holding his wife in his arms as she sobbed into his shoulder.
The two boys stood, still looking down at the headstones, tears running down the younger one’s
cheeks, and as Mary watched, his older brother reached out and took his hand.

Mary turned away reluctantly, leaving the young family in their grief, and followed Emmeline,
who now had her arm wrapped around Hestia’s shoulders, back toward the entrance of the
graveyard. When they reached it, Emmeline and Hestia stopped, waiting for her.

“I think we’re going to go home,” Emmeline said, glancing down at Hestia and then back to Mary.
“Do you want to come with us?”

Mary hesitated, looking from Hestia’s red-rimmed eyes to Emmeline’s pale face, then shook her
head. “I think I’ll go visit Lily,” she said. “I can tell her and James about the service.”

Emmeline nodded, understanding in her brown eyes. “I’m sure she’d appreciate that,” she replied.

Hestia disengaged herself from Emmeline’s arm and stepped forward to wrap her arms around
Mary. Mary clung to her tightly for a moment before Hestia let go. She stepped back, giving Mary
a sad little look, her eyes searching Mary’s before Emmeline stepped forward to hug her, too. Their
height difference made it a little more awkward, and when Mary stepped back, she gave both of her
friends what might have passed for a smile.

“I’ll see you both later,” she said, unable to keep the melancholy note out of her voice, and they
both nodded. These days, every goodbye felt like it could be the last one, but none of them could
voice the feeling for fear that if they spoke it aloud, it would come true. Instead, Mary gave
Emmeline and Hestia a little wave, and they walked off to find a hidden place to disapparate from,
while she moved in the opposite direction to do the same.

When Mary appeared in the garden of Lily and James’ house in Godric’s Hollow, she found James
outside, digging in the flowerbeds. He turned his head quickly as soon as he heard her but
noticeably deflated with relief when he realized who she was.

“Hey, Mary,” James greeted her, removing his hands from the earth and flicking his damp hair out
of his eyes in a quick gesture.

It was raining here, too, but clearly, James had found a new project in gardening and wouldn’t be
dissuaded, though his glasses were flecked with droplets of water. It seemed like James discovered
some new hobby at each of Mary’s visits, which she suspected was his attempt to try and replace
his restlessness with a feeling that he was doing something, anything, even if he couldn’t be useful
to the Order.

“Hey, James,” Mary replied. “What are you up to?”

“Trying to plant some vegetables,” James said, his voice sounding preoccupied as his fingers
resumed digging around in the earth. “Lily says it might be too late in the season, but—”

He broke off, looking up at her, and seemed to take in her appearance for the first time: the black
dress, the flat line of her mouth, and her pale cheeks.

“You came from the funeral, didn’t you?” he asked, a note of wariness in his voice.

“Yeah,” Mary confirmed.

“How was it?” James asked, his tone stiff as if he was trying hard to keep it from wavering.

“It was a good service,” Mary replied, the words feeling hollow.

“I’m glad,” James said, looking up at her. He wiped the outside of his glasses with the back of his
sleeve, so Mary could see his hazel eyes clearly for the first time—tired but earnest. A flicker of
frustration went across his face. “I wish we could’ve gone.”

“I know,” Mary replied sadly. “I wish you could’ve been there, too.”

James gave her a small, sad smile, then nodded toward the back door. “Lily’s in the sitting room
with Harry,” he said. “Go on in.”

Mary nodded, giving him a small, grateful smile, then left James to dig in the mud, walking up to
the back door and opening it carefully. She took off her slightly muddy shoes and left them at the
door before entering. From the sitting room, she could hear Harry babbling happily, and the sound
of Lily’s low murmur as she talked to him. The weight pressing down on Mary seemed to lift
slightly at the sound of her voice. She walked through the kitchen to the sitting room, pausing at
the entrance to take in the sight of Lily on the floor, watching Harry play with a toy train.
“Hey, Lils,” Mary greeted her.

Lily turned and caught sight of Mary, and a small smile bloomed on her tired face. Harry looked
up, too, a wider grin breaking his chubby cheeks, and he began to babble again. Mary gave him a
smile and moved over to sit down beside them on the ground.

“Hey, Harry,” she said, ruffling his hair affectionately.

He wobbled up on his chubby legs and leaned forward, almost falling into her lap as he opened his
arms, demanding a hug. Mary smiled and caught him, holding his little body against hers. He
smelled like baby food and shampoo.

“He still hasn’t quite grasped the mechanics of walking,” Lily said, looking down at her son
affectionately, his head buried in Mary’s shoulder. Then, her gaze flicked up to meet Mary’s, and
her smile dimmed slightly. “How was the funeral?”

Mary gave a small shrug, allowing Harry to disengage from her and go back to playing with his
toys. “It was fine,” she said. “As fine as a funeral for good people can be, I suppose.”

Lily nodded, absentmindedly rolling a train back and forth on the ground with her hand as she
gazed at Mary. Callie leapt off the chair onto the floor behind Lily and sat, her eyes fixed on the
moving train with interest.

“Who all was there?” Lily asked, after a pause.

“Most of the Order, as far as I could see,” Mary said. “Some of Gideon and Fabian’s family. Their
older sister, Molly, was there with her husband and her two eldest sons.”

Lily nodded. “I’ve never met her before,” she said. “How did she seem?”

“Devastated,” Mary replied honestly. “I’d never met her before, either. She looks like them,
though. So do her sons.”

Lily made a soft, sad sound in her throat. “Gideon and Fabian were always so proud of their nieces
and nephews,” she said. “I hope they know that.”

“Me too,” Mary replied hollowly.

She watched as Callie crept up behind Lily and put out a tentative paw to bat at the train. Lily
released it, allowing Callie to pounce on it triumphantly. Outside the windows, Mary heard the rain
begin to increase in intensity, creating a dull roar as it fell.

“James won’t have any luck with his gardening now,” Mary commented, hitching a small, fake
smile onto her face.

Lily let out a soft laugh, and, as if on cue, the back door opened, James stomping in. Mary heard
him remove his boots and shake his hair out. A small, genuine smile appeared on her lips as she
imagined droplets spiraling out onto the walls, floor, and counters in the kitchen. She looked over
toward the entrance to the sitting room, and James appeared in it moments later, as expected.

“It’s really raining out there,” he said, and Lily smiled at him.

“Clearly,” she said, a note of affection in her voice.

James looked from Lily to Mary, his gaze discerning. “I can look after Harry if you two want to
have some time to talk,” he said.

Lily glanced at Mary, raising her eyebrows in an unspoken question, and Mary nodded.

“That would be great, James,” Lily said, getting to her feet and holding out a hand for Mary to help
her up, too. “Thanks.”

She moved toward the kitchen, Mary on her heels, and when she paused next to her husband, she
gave him a light kiss on the cheek, her hand clasping his for a brief moment. Mary looked away,
always slightly awkward when she felt as if she was intruding on them.

James gave Mary a slight smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes before moving over to sit in front of
Harry, who seemed not to care much about the exchange. Mary followed Lily into the kitchen,
where she’d already started to fill the kettle with water. She placed it on the stove, then turned to
Mary, leaning against the counter and looking a little forlorn, her green eyes devoid of their usual
sparkle. Mary looked back at Lily, who she’d known at eleven and grown up with, whose red hair
she’d watched grow out and be cut short and grow again. Now that Lily was in hiding, she’d let it
get longer once more. Mary had missed it like this.

“I hate this,” Mary said into the silence, and Lily nodded, looking back at her. Mary didn’t need to
explain further. Lily understood what she meant.

“Me too,” Lily replied quietly. She paused for a moment, and Mary could hear the sound of the
water inside the kettle beginning to heat up, a slight soft hiss warning of the approaching boil.

“I heard that Slughorn retired,” Lily said. Her expression was tired: just another piece of bad news
in a mountain of it. “Dumbledore must’ve filled the Potions Master position, though I don’t know
with who. Slughorn told me he’d recommend me when he retired, but obviously, I can’t teach
when I’m in hiding, can I?”

Her hands moved suddenly, as if she wanted to throw something, then clenched into fists by her
sides. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them to look at Mary. “God, I thought my
life would be so different from this when I graduated from Hogwarts.”

A flicker of anger or frustration passed over her features, giving Mary a glimpse of a younger Lily
before they settled back into despair.

“I know,” Mary replied. “It’s—it’s…” She trailed off, trying to find some way to express all the
terrible things that had happened, some way that she hadn’t said day after day for months.
Something that wasn’t futile. “It’s shit,” she blurted out suddenly, surprising even herself.

Lily lifted her gaze from the floor to look at Mary, and a slight smile emerged on her lips. A
bubble of a laugh rose from her throat, and she shook her head.

“It is,” Lily agreed, smiling. “It is shit!”

Mary was surprised to feel a smile breaking across her own lips, and she began to laugh, too,
joining in with Lily’s hearty giggles. They were interrupted by the kettle, which began to whistle
loudly, and Lily, still laughing softly, turned to take it off the burner. She took out two mugs from
the cupboard and placed them on the counter, adding a tea bag to each. She didn’t have to ask how
Mary liked her tea—living together for more than eight years meant that that question wasn’t
necessary.

When Lily had poured the tea and added milk, she handed Mary her mug. They didn’t move
toward the table but stayed in the kitchen, leaning against opposite sides of the counter and waiting
for the tea to cool. They stood in silence for a moment, Lily bobbing the teabag up and down in her
mug as Mary tried to muster up the words she needed to say.

“You can’t go,” Mary blurted out finally, the words tumbling from her mouth before she could
stop them.

Lily looked at her, her eyes wide, brow furrowing slightly in concern. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that—” Mary broke off, sighing, her brow furrowed in a frown as she looked at Lily,
trying to figure out how to say what she wanted to say, and wishing she could just leave it unsaid at
the same time. “I love you, Lily. You’re one of the most important people in the world to me, and I
need you to know that, and I can’t stand it. I can’t stand even the possibility—the possibility that
—” She shook her head vigorously, tears finally springing into her eyes for the first time that day.
“You can’t go. Please don’t go, Lily.”

Lily’s eyes filled with tears, too, as she gazed back at Mary. She hesitated for a moment, then set
her mug down on the counter next to her, moving to close the gap between her and Mary and
wrapping her arms around her best friend as Mary sobbed into her shoulder.

Mary needed it. She needed to hold onto the girl who’d been her first friend at Hogwarts, back
when they’d studied together in the library in their first year, and who’d become her best friend
because they’d felt each other’s pain and understood one another, hurts forgiven. She needed to
hold onto the girl who she’d shared a room with after Hogwarts, who’d been the comfort that saw
her through that first year of figuring out what it meant to be an adult in a world that was tearing
itself apart. But more than that, Mary needed Lily to stay.

“I love you, too, Mac,” Lily said softly into Mary’s hair. “You know that I’ll do everything I can
do to survive this.”

Mary cried harder because she knew what those words meant, just as well as Lily did. She knew
that Lily couldn’t control the outcome, not any more than Mary could control it. Because none of
their friends had been able to stop what had happened to them. Mary felt like the fear and grief of
the last months had been slow torture, wearing her down. These days, she felt like a kid again, too
young for the fight that she’d chosen when she really had been a kid, and what she needed was
Lily…and Lily was in the most danger out of any of them.

Mary cried into Lily’s shoulder for several more minutes, not caring that James could hear, and
then slowly, they moved apart, though Lily held onto Mary’s hand even as she gave her space.

“Listen to me, Mary,” Lily said, her gaze intent on Mary’s. “I haven’t given up. I know that
sometimes I feel hopeless, and I sound hopeless, but I haven’t given up. I can’t promise you that
this whole thing is going to have a happy ending, no one can promise that, but I promise that I
won’t give up. James won’t give up, either. We’re doing everything we can to protect ourselves and
Harry. I’m not going down without a fight.”

Mary nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve. Lily’s words didn’t dispel the dread that
had settled into her stomach, but she clung to Lily’s hand still, warm against hers. She’d hold on as
long as she could, as long as Lily was there to hold onto. That was the only promise Lily could
make, and it was a promise Mary could make herself, too.

She reached over with her free hand to pick up the mug that she’d left abandoned on the counter
and brought it to her lips to take a sip. The tea was still warm, though not hot anymore. Lily finally
let go of her hand, Mary letting her untwine their fingers reluctantly, and she moved over to grab
her own mug of tea, taking a sip of it, too.
Mary’s mind flashed back inexplicably to the summer before their seventh year of Hogwarts, when
she’d stayed at Lily’s house for two weeks. It was hard to believe that it’d been more than four
years ago, that happy time when they hadn’t been quite untroubled but still excited about the life
ahead of them. Mary sighed. She wished she could have more of that time with Lily now. Looking
across at her, sipping her tea and gazing back with a shared sadness, Mary realized that she wanted
to savor all the time she had now, not knowing how much she would have left. Perhaps they could
pretend to be those carefree kids again, even if it was no longer true.

“I have an idea,” Mary said, giving Lily a tentative half-smile.

Lily straightened her posture, a smile blooming on her face, too.

They ended up in the bathroom upstairs, both looking in the mirror as Mary examined her own
raven-colored locks and they brainstormed ideas on what to do with them.

“You could do some funky color,” Lily suggested, smiling. “Pink, perhaps? Neon green?”

Mary wrinkled her nose in distaste but smiled. “I’m not that adventurous,” she said.

She thought of the blonde that they’d changed her hair to when she’d been sixteen. It’d been a fun
thing to do, but it’d also felt very strange, too. Blonde was definitely not her color. She glanced
over at Lily in the mirror and felt a mischievous smile bloom on her face.

“What?” Lily demanded eagerly.

For a moment, Mary felt as if they were just seventeen again, just two girls laughing about
changing her hair color in their dorm at Hogwarts. The feeling was short-lived, but she enjoyed it
nonetheless. She turned to Lily.

“I’ve never been a ginger,” Mary said, playfully taking a lock of Lily’s long hair between her
fingers.

Lily’s eyebrows shot up, but she let out a loud laugh. “I see how it is. You want to steal my look,”
she teased and Mary just shrugged, smiling.

Lily beamed and turned Mary back toward the mirror, taking out her wand and pointing it at
Mary’s hair. Mary had a split second to wonder how long it’d been before Lily had used this
particular spell, but she didn’t have time to change her mind, because there was a small pop, and
her hair changed to the exact shade of dark red as Lily’s.

Mary smiled and ran her fingers through her hair, examining it in the mirror. “Not bad,” she said.

Lily examined their reflections side by side in the mirror, too, and smiled. “Not bad at all,” she
said, and put an arm around Mary, squeezing the shorter girl to her side. “Want me to do your
eyebrows, too?”

After they’d laughed themselves silly over Lily’s suggestion, they ended up on the bathroom floor,
Lily sitting against the wall across from the sink, and Mary facing her, her back resting against the
cabinet under the sink. Lily looked at her, a small smile still playing across her face before a look
of anxiety stole into her expression. Mary met her gaze but didn’t speak, waiting for Lily to voice
her fears.

“I need you to promise me something now,” Lily said, holding Mary’s gaze like a vice grip, like
she wouldn’t let Mary look away even if she wanted to.
 Mary searched Lily’s gaze for a moment, then nodded. “Anything,” she replied softly, meaning the
word more than she thought she should.

Lily took a deep breath. “If I don’t survive,” she began, her voice shaking slightly as she said it. “If
I don’t survive, and Harry does, I need you to promise me that you’ll be there for him. I need to
know that he’ll have someone…someone like you. Someone who’ll make sure he’s safe and loved.
And someone to tell him about me, to tell him that I loved him.” She let out a shaky breath and
held Mary’s gaze as she asked: “Can you promise me you’ll do that?”

Mary nodded, swallowing as she stared into Lily’s green eyes. “I promise,” she replied.

Of all the promises Lily could’ve asked her to make, this was the easiest. Mary couldn’t imagine
doing anything else, even if Lily hadn’t made her promise. She loved Harry, and he was Lily’s
son…she’d always protect him.

“Thank you,” Lily said, and reached across to take Mary’s hand in hers, giving it a tight squeeze.
Mary didn’t let go, and they stayed like that for a long time.

Chapter End Notes

Sorry to moonyloveschocolate for no doubt freaking you out with the title of the
chapter!
 1981: Secret Keepers
Chapter Notes

cw: major character deaths (yes, this is it, unfortunately)

“I cannot stress this point enough. If you choose wrong, you will be dooming yourselves along
with the entire wizarding world,” Dumbledore said, striding back and forth, his star-spangled blue
robes billowing, looking out of place in their little kitchen.

James took in the agitated look on the old wizard’s face and shook his head. “With all due respect,
sir,” he said, trying to keep the note of bitterness out of his voice. “I think I’m a bit more aware of
the consequences than you are. It doesn’t change my mind.”

Dumbledore looked from him to Lily, then shook his head, resignation in every line of his face.
“Sirius is an accomplished wizard, I will not disagree with you on that front,” he said. “But he does
not have the ability to protect himself against Voldemort. If you’re wrong about his loyalties—”

James rose to his feet, looking steadily into the headmaster’s blue eyes. “I grew up with Sirius.
He’s my brother and Harry’s godfather. He’d rather die than tell Voldemort where we are. I know
you don’t like it, but you’re going to have to trust my judgment here.”

Dumbledore sighed out a long, deep breath and looked down at Lily. “And you agree to this?”

“I trust Sirius with my life,” Lily replied steadily. Harry sat docilely on her lap, the expression on
his face curious though his eyelids were drooping slightly.

“I suppose I have no other option, then,” Dumbledore said, shaking his head. A slight, amused
smile bloomed on his face, as if despite himself. “You and your Marauders…I suppose I should
have expected nothing less.”

Dumbledore shook his head again and sighed. “I will leave you, then,” he said. “You should
perform the charm as soon as you can. Within the day, if possible. Once it is cast, your Secret
Keeper must go into hiding and tell as few people about your location as possible, as, if the Secret
Keeper dies, everyone who he has told the secret to will then become a new Secret Keeper. You
will be even more shut off from the rest of the world as you have been before. I’m sorry.”

“We understand,” Lily replied, nodding.

James glanced down at her and Harry, and she looked up to meet his gaze. There was sadness in
her bright green eyes, and James knew that, like him, she was thinking of how few people there
were left to tell, anyway.

“I shall take my leave, then,” Dumbledore said, giving them both a small bow. He placed a hand
on Harry’s shoulder, giving it a gentle pat before moving toward the door. “Let me know when it’s
done,” he said, and, with a final, troubled smile, he was gone.

James sunk back down into his chair, burying his face in his hands. He felt Lily’s light touch on his
shoulder and looked up.
“Do you think we’re doing the right thing?” he asked her, searching her green eyes as if they held
the future.

Lily nodded. “We’re doing all we can,” she replied.

“But refusing to have Dumbledore as our Secret Keeper…” James trailed off, shaking his head,
doubt still clouding his mind. “Sometimes I feel like it’s crazy to reject his offer. He’s the only one
Voldemort has ever been afraid of, after all.”

“I don’t trust him anymore,” Lily replied flatly, pulling Harry closer against her as his little head
tilted to one side, clearly about to drift off. “I never know what Dumbledore’s real agenda is. He
waited to tell us about the prophecy, and I think he waited to tell us that it was Harry that
Voldemort was targeting, too. Why he didn’t tell us to perform the Fidelius Charm the moment
both us and the Longbottoms went into hiding months ago, I don’t know. He wants to protect us
today, or so he says, but what about tomorrow?”

“It’s not as if Dumbledore will sell us to Voldemort,” James replied doubtfully.

Lily shook her head. “No,” she replied. “But I don’t know what else he could do. I just…feel safer
with Sirius. Don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do,” James admitted, pushing his hair out of his eyes distractedly. It was longer than
usual, as Dorcas had been the one to give him haircuts for much of his life, and she was gone now.
James had more important things on his mind, anyway.

“I suppose we should send him a message,” James said, sighing heavily. “Like Dumbledore said,
the sooner we do this, the better.”

Lily nodded and stood up, hoisting the sleepy Harry onto her hip as she did so. She moved over to
James and leaned down, pressing a slow, light kiss on his forehead. James let his eyelids flutter
shut and sighed out a long breath. At least Lily would be here, and Harry, to see him through this.

“I’ll settle Harry for his nap upstairs,” she said. “You call Sirius.”

James nodded, his eyes still closed, and he felt her hand go to his hair, her fingers working through
the unruly locks comfortingly. He’d gotten used to this over the years: a constant in their
relationship since they’d gotten together at seventeen. Then her fingers were gone, and he heard her
footsteps moving slowly toward the stairs so as not to wake their son, and James opened his eyes
reluctantly, coming back to the world.

He pulled the two-way mirror from his pocket, and, holding it in front of him, said: “Sirius.” After
a moment, his reflection clouded and filled with Sirius’ face.

“Did you talk to Dumbledore?” Sirius asked without preamble, his brow furrowed.

James nodded. “He agreed,” James said.

“Reluctantly?” Sirius asked knowingly.

James smiled slightly. “Yeah, reluctantly,” he confirmed. “If you’re free, you can come over now
and we’ll cast the charm.”

“Sure, I’ll come over,” Sirius said. “But, uh, there’s something I need to talk to you and Lily
about.”
His eyes flicked away from James and toward something behind the mirror for a moment, his hand
going up to rub at the back of his neck, and James narrowed his eyes. After many years of living
with Sirius, he knew Sirius’ tells.

“What is it?” he asked warily.

Sirius’ grey gaze flicked back to meet his, and he shrugged. “I’ll explain when I get there,” he said.
“I’ll head over now.”

James’ brow furrowed, and he was about to demand that Sirius tell him what it was right then, but
Sirius’ reflection disappeared from the mirror, and James was left staring into his own hazel eyes
again. He sighed and put down the mirror. This didn’t bode well.

It was only a minute later that James heard knocking at the back door. He leapt to his feet and
hurried over to let Sirius in. Sirius smiled sheepishly at him, his hair slightly damp from the rain
pouring mercilessly outside. James gestured him inside and shut the door.

“Well, you’ve officially made me nervous,” he said as he watched Sirius take off his shoes and
place them by the doormat. “What did you want to talk about?”

Sirius’ eyes darted around the empty room for a moment before looking back up at James. James
could hear Lily upstairs, still shuffling around as she settled their son down to sleep. He crossed his
arms and waited, his eyebrows raised as he regarded Sirius.

“It’s about the plan,” Sirius said, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand again. “It’s…well, it’s
good, but it’s not perfect.”

“Yeah, I figured that much out for myself,” James said heavily, striding over to the table and sitting
down, motioning for Sirius to sit, too. “But what can we do about it?”

Sirius followed, looking at James anxiously as he sat. “Well, I have an idea,” Sirius said. “You
may not like it, though.”

James narrowed his eyes at his best friend. “Go on,” he said cautiously.

Sirius worried his lip with his teeth for a moment, then spoke. “Having me as a Secret Keeper is
too obvious,” he started. “The Death Eaters will guess immediately who it is, even if the spy
doesn’t tell them, and they’ll track me down. You know that I’d die before I ever told them where
you were, but that’s the problem.”

He looked up at James, his expression very serious.

“If they kill me, everyone who I’ve ever told where you are will become Secret Keepers. And even
if we try to keep the list of people I tell small, eventually it’ll grow, because you’ll need food and
supplies and people who can tell you what’s going on, obviously. And one of those people I tell—
one of them could be the spy.”

“So, what’s the solution?” James asked, searching Sirius’ face intently. Naturally, James had
thought of all these problems, but he wasn’t sure there was any way to rectify them. “I don’t know
if there’s anyone I trust more than you to do this.”

“If I’m killed, though, it won’t matter either way. I may be confident that I’d never give you up,
even under threats or torture, but I’m not confident that I’d be able to defend myself against
Voldemort if he wanted to kill me. I mean, if neither Dorcas nor Marlene could, why would I be
able to?”
James could see the determination in Sirius’ face and knew that the prospect of his own death was
barely a consideration in his mind, as he spoke about it so casually. This was all about their safety
to him, rather than his own. James both loved and hated him for it at the same time.

“I think the only way we can win here is to trick the Death Eaters,” Sirius continued, a glint in his
eye that James recognized from Hogwarts, from all their years of planning pranks together. “If we
outsmart them, make the Secret Keeper someone they won’t ever expect, it’ll buy us all more
time.”

James thought about it for a moment and realized that Sirius had a point. Still… “Who?” he asked,
his brow furrowed.

“Pete,” Sirius replied simply. “I mean, we all know that Wormy is a good wizard, but he’s not
quite as good at Defense Against the Dark Arts as the rest of us. He also doesn’t seem to be as
much on the Death Eater’s radar as me, or at least, he hasn’t seen any Death Eaters tailing him like
I have. I don’t think that it would occur to the Death Eaters that he’d be the Secret Keeper.”

James looked out of the window to the street, watching as a Muggle couple walked past, a little girl
swinging between their hands with a goofy smile on her face, and thought about Sirius’ plan. It
was a good one, perhaps a better one than either Dumbledore or the Aurors could come up with,
but still, part of James hated it. As the girl and her parents moved past the window and out of sight,
he looked back to Sirius, his gaze sharp with accusation.

“What you’re really proposing here, Padfoot, is that you act as a human shield between the Death
Eaters and Wormtail. You know that they’ll still hunt you down because they’ll think you’re the
Secret Keeper, and they’ll probably kill you for getting in their way, just like they did with
Dorcas.”

“I’ll hide, James,” Sirius said, his tone desperate as he stared at James with imploring grey eyes.
“I’ll hide, and I’ll run, and I’ll do everything I can to protect myself.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Padfoot!” James exclaimed, his voice rising. “The whole reason you want to
change the plan is so that if they track you down and kill you, we’ll be safe. Don’t say now that
that’s not what you think is going to happen.”

“Well, at least now if I die, you won’t die, too!” Sirius retorted, his voice rising to match James’.
“Look, it’s the only option and you know it, Prongs. Please, just do it for me.”

James hesitated for a moment, staring across at Sirius with equal parts frustration and gratitude
coursing through him. He’d never understood how Sirius could be all this at once: stubborn and
generous, angry and pleading, loyal and selfish. He wouldn’t have considered this plan at all if it
was just for him, but he had Lily and Harry to consider, too.

“You have to promise me not to be reckless,” James said after a moment, his voice low and urgent.
“Promise me that you won’t take your death for granted, because if you do, you won’t protect
yourself as well. I do not accept your death, Sirius. You better fucking promise me that you’re
going to do everything you can to live to a boring old age and die in your bed with Remus next to
you.”

“I promise,” Sirius said, looking impossibly sad. “I promise you that I’ll do everything I can to
survive, James. I don’t want to die, okay? Despite everything, I still want to live, and I’m going to
fight for it. I promise you.”

“Fine, then,” James said, his eyes searching Sirius’ face as he tried to catch him in a lie, making
sure that all that was there was honesty. “I’ll do it. I’ll talk about it with Lily, but I think it’s a good
idea to make Wormtail Secret Keeper, that is, if he’s okay with it.”

“He’s already agreed,” Sirius said, looking relieved. “We’ve talked about it.”

“Okay, then, I’ll talk to Lily,” James said, moving to stand up, but Sirius held his shoulder,
keeping him there.

“Wait, James,” he said, now looking even more pained. “I need you to make me a promise, too.”

“What is it?” James asked, crossing his arms and examining his best friend closely, not liking his
shifty look.

“I need you to promise not to tell anyone else about this except for Lily,” he said, looking
uncomfortable. “The fewer people to know about it, the better. Otherwise, it defeats the point.”

James narrowed his eyes at his best friend. What he said made sense, but there was something
strange about the way that he’d asked. “Who have you told, Sirius?” he asked suspiciously.

“No one other than Wormtail,” Sirius said, looking down.

James’ eyes widened as a cold wave of realization washed over him, and he stared at Sirius as
though he’d never seen him before. “You’re asking me not to tell Moony, aren’t you?” he
demanded slowly, dread settling into his stomach.

“I’m asking you not to tell anyone, Prongs,” Sirius said, still not meeting his eyes. “Anyone in the
Order could be the spy, you know that.”

“You can’t think that Moony is the spy, Padfoot,” James said, looking across at Sirius with horror,
not fooled by his avoidance of the question. “He’d never do that to any of us.”

“Then who is it, Prongs?” Sirius demanded, running his fingers through his hair in agitation as he
finally looked back up at James, his eyes full of panic. “It’s got to be someone close to us; our
friends are dropping like flies! Moony…”

He trailed off, looking as if every word he spoke against Remus pained him, and James could see
the love still there, fighting hard against the fear.

“He’s smart. He’s good at making plans. He was always good at keeping things from the teachers
in our school years—always good at not getting caught. Give me one piece of evidence to say that
it isn’t Remus, I’m begging you! Do you think I want it to be him?”

“Give me one piece of evidence to say that it is him!” James retorted, his voice rising in anger.

The circles under Sirius’ eyes, the shifty looks, and the silence between his two friends over the
past months finally made sense.

“Moony loves you!” James continued angrily. “He loves all of us. He loves Harry, and Lily, and
Mary: all people who would die if Voldemort got his way! He’d never turn on us. I don’t
understand why you would ever suspect him.” He shook his head in disgust and stood up,
beginning to pace as he avoided Sirius’ gaze.

“He’s my blind spot, James,” Sirius said weakly.

James looked down at him, and his heart cracked at the look of utter despair in Sirius’ eyes as he
looked back at him, his gaze pleading.

“Just promise me, James, please…please don’t tell him. I don’t know if he’s the spy, I don’t
know…I just know that if he is, and you tell him, there’d be a chance that you’d die for that
mistake. Please don’t make it.”

James shook his head, looking away from Sirius again. He didn’t know what to say. Part of him
was furious at Sirius for even thinking that there could be a chance that Remus was the spy, and
another part felt inconsolably sad for his friend. No matter how hard James tried, he’d never
understood this part of Sirius: the part that twisted him up inside, that made him lash out in anger,
that kept him from trusting the people who loved him. It was always Remus who’d understood this
part, who’d been able to talk Sirius down from these moods. Now, it seemed that the twisted thing
inside of Sirius had evolved to resist being talked down, as it’d turned him against the only person
James knew who could fix this.

“Sirius, stop it!” Lily’s voice came from the stairwell, breaking into his thoughts.

James and Sirius both turned to see her descend the last few steps and enter the room. She was
frowning, and as her gaze met Sirius’, he seemed to cower under her glare. James almost wanted to
smile, remembering all those years at Hogwarts when Lily and Sirius had been at odds—always
ready for a fight. Perhaps Sirius was flashing back to some hex experiences that he didn’t want to
repeat.

“You were listening?” Sirius asked, a sulky note in his voice as he avoided Lily’s gaze.

Lily crossed her arms and glared down at him. “Yes, I was listening,” she retorted. “Your plan may
be good, but you’re mad for thinking that Remus is the spy. He’d never do that to you, and he’d
never believe this of you, either, so you should be ashamed of yourself for thinking it of him!”

“I just want to keep you, James, and Harry safe,” Sirius said, speaking to his knees to avoid looking
up at her. “I need to be sure that you will be.”

“You’ll never be sure,” Lily scoffed, glaring at him. “None of us can ever be sure that we’ll be
safe. Our family has a target on our backs, and there’s never going to be anything that’ll make us
completely safe as long as Voldemort is hunting us. That’s not what this is really about, and you
know it.”

“What else would it be about?” Sirius muttered to his knees, still refusing to look up.

Lily let out a frustrated sigh and uncrossed her arms, letting them fall to her sides in a gesture of
exasperation. “You can’t fool me, Sirius,” she said. “I’ve suspected for weeks that you think that
Remus is the spy. I’ve seen the way he looks recently: like all the life’s been taken out of him!
He’s had to deal with his mum dying, and Dorcas and Marlene, and then on top of it, you not
trusting him. It’s horrible.”

Sirius clenched his fists, and James thought he saw a flicker of regret cross his expression. He
looked up at Lily finally, and his eyes were full of fear.

“It’s someone close to us, Lily,” he said softly, repeating his earlier words to James. “It’s got to be.
He’s—Remus is the most likely person.”

“Why? Because he loves you?” Lily demanded angrily.

Sirius looked taken aback, but Lily interrupted him by pointing her finger accusingly at him before
he could say anything more.
“Don’t you try and lie to me, Sirius Black. I remember what you said to me in our fifth year!”

Sirius’ expression seemed to shutter, and James looked from him to Lily in confusion. There was a
pause as Lily stared down at Sirius, her green eyes filled with a mixture of anger and sorrow before
she continued.

“You told me that loving someone is giving them the power to hurt you. But I know that it was
never really that, either, was it?”

Sirius shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, looking away from her
again.

Lily pressed on mercilessly, however. “It’s not just that you believe that love will break you,” Lily
said. “Because you don’t think that about other people, do you? No, it’s because deep down, you
still think that you, specifically, don’t deserve it. Under all that false confidence, you really just feel
like shit. You think that anyone who sees the whole of you and still loves you must be faking it.”

“Lily,” James protested, staring at her in horror.

She paid him no mind, however, her eyes locked on Sirius, who’d now turned back to look at her,
his face pale. He stared back at her, his grey eyes shiny with unshed tears, and it was like he hated
what he saw but couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“I know,” Lily said, nodding. “Because I used to think that, too, about myself. If you’re told that
you’re worthless for years, it’s hard to make it go away, isn’t it?”

“Stop it, Lily,” James implored, staring at Sirius, who looked like he was about to vomit.

“You can stop this, Sirius,” Lily said, ignoring James once again. Her voice had a note of
desperation in it now. “Stop it now because it’s not true. Even if you can’t really believe it, you
have to know that Remus does love you. You have to know that he loves all of us and that he’d
never betray us. We can switch Secret Keepers to create a ruse for the Death Eaters, but please tell
Remus the truth.”

There was a long silence, during which Lily and Sirius stared at each other, and James stared at
both of them, terrified to speak and completely lost for anything to say if he did. It appeared that
Remus wasn’t the only person who understood this part of Sirius, after all. But could Lily get
through to him? James didn’t know.

Finally, Sirius took a deep breath as if he was surfacing after spending too long underwater. The
color came back into his face, and he looked away from Lily. “I don’t know if I can,” he said
quietly.

Lily sighed and moved to sit down beside him in the chair that James had recently vacated. She
reached out and took his hand in hers. Sirius yielded to the contact without resistance, staring at her
with a helpless look on his face.

“I don’t know who the spy is,” Lily admitted, meeting his eyes. “But I know that it isn’t Remus. I
know that he’d never do that to any of us. Can you trust my judgment?”

“I don’t know,” Sirius said again. “I’m scared that if I trust him, it’ll be because I want to, not
because it’s true. What if the fact that I love him gets us all killed?”

Lily shook her head sadly. “It’s the opposite, Sirius,” she said. “It’s because you love him that you
don’t trust him.”
Sirius looked away.

“Tell you what,” Lily continued, leaning back and glancing up at James quickly before turning her
attention back to Sirius, who was hunched forward and looked miserable under the weight of her
words. “I promise not to tell Remus about the plan, and James won’t, either.”

James opened his mouth to protest, but Lily sent him a glance, shaking her head slightly. Sirius
raised his head like a dog catching a scent on the air, looking hopeful. Lily raised her eyebrows at
him.

“But I think that you should tell him,” Lily continued, and Sirius’ face fell back into lines of
misery. She leaned forward again, squeezing his hand. “This doesn’t just affect us and our lives,
Sirius, it affects yours. He’s your boyfriend, and he deserves to know. You’re putting your own life
at risk for us, and you’re going to have to go into hiding, which means you’ll be gone from Remus
for long stretches of time at least. He should know the whole story as to why. He deserves your
trust. Please trust him.”

Sirius looked back at her for a long moment, then looked up at James, who gave him a pointed
look and a nod, emphasizing Lily’s words. Sirius looked back to Lily and sighed.

“I’ll think about it,” he said tiredly.

Lily nodded, then pulled him into a hug, which he returned after a moment, burying his face in her
long, red hair. She released him after a long moment, but as soon as Sirius stood from his chair,
James enveloped him in a hug of his own, squeezing tightly and insistently. It took another few
moments for him to release his best friend, leading Sirius to the back door and letting him out. Just
as Sirius was about to disapparate from the backyard, however, James called after him:

“Remember what you promised, okay?”

Sirius turned back to look at him, and James could see his miserable expression dissolve into a
half-grin, and he nodded.

“You’ll get into contact with Pete about casting the spell?” he called back.

“I’ll send him a message as soon as you leave,” James replied, nodding.

Their gazes locked for an indeterminable space of time, hazel eyes and grey ones identical in their
fear and determination. After a moment of hesitation, Sirius walked back up the stairs to the back
door to give James another hug, and James wrapped his arms around his brother.

“I love you, Prongs,” Sirius said, his voice slightly muffled by the embrace.

“I love you, too, Padfoot,” James replied, then stepped back, clapping Sirius on his shoulder.
“Keep safe, okay?”

“I will,” Sirius said, meeting James’ eyes for the last time before he turned to leave.

James watched as Sirius turned on the spot, the ends of his long hair the last to disappear, and, after
a long moment of staring at the place where he’d vanished, James closed the door and locked it.

“Do you think he’ll be alright?” James asked Lily as he turned to find her leaning against their
kitchen counter with a contemplative expression on her face.

She sighed and shook her head, her gaze still on the back door as if she could see Sirius through it.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I really don’t.”

He paused, then asked: “Do you think we will?”

Lily’s eyes refocused, and she held his gaze for a moment before she shook her head again. “I don’t
know that either,” she admitted softly.

James nodded and moved over toward her slowly, taking her hand and twining his fingers with
hers. He drew it up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to the smooth skin on the back of her hand,
his gaze not leaving her face as he did so.

He imagined her as they’d grow older, imagined how lines would crowd her face, and how her
voice would crease as people’s voices did as they aged, worn down like old parchment. He
imagined her running her fingers through his greying hair, and his hand smoothing over her soft,
worn cheek, as he looked into her bright green eyes, framed by crow’s feet. They’d twinkle at him
as he brought her hand up to his lips for a light kiss, just as they did now. But would any of those
things ever come to be?

“Are you sure about the plan?” he asked her, his eyes meeting hers steadily.

Lily nodded, her eyes not leaving his. “As sure as I ever am about things these days,” she said. “It
makes sense, and if you and Sirius trust Peter to do this, I do, too.”

James nodded. “I’ll send him a message to come over, then,” he said.

Lily nodded and released his hand, allowing James to take his wand out of his pocket. He conjured
up his stag Patronus and whispered a few words, then watched it disappear, off to find Peter.

“It’s funny,” Lily said, after a moment, a slight smile turning her lips upwards. “Even though
everything’s changed, it also feels like nothing has. You’ve still got your Marauders, and now
we’re using subterfuge to evade Voldemort. It’s just like old times.”

James grinned despite himself. “I suppose you’re right,” he said. Still, Sirius’ desperate face
flashed before his eyes, and he remembered how he’d pleaded for James not to tell Remus. James
knew that things would never be the same. They could never go back to what they’d been so many
years ago.

Upstairs, Harry began to cry. “I’ll go,” James said, putting a hand on Lily’s shoulder as she started.

She gave him a grateful smile, and James mounted the stairs to his son’s room. When he reached
it, he found Harry in his crib, wailing, holding onto the bars. The smell indicated that he needed a
fresh nappy, and James picked him up, making comforting shushing sounds as he walked Harry to
the bathroom to change him.

Harry quieted down as soon as he had a fresh nappy, but James stayed in his room for a few more
minutes, bouncing his sleepy son on his hip as Harry fell back into a doze. When Harry retreated
into dreams once more, James placed him softly down in his crib and straightened, gazing down at
his son. It was hard to believe that it was really him that they had to do all of this for, that there was
really a threat against his son, who only knew a handful of words and hadn’t yet mastered the art of
walking on his own. James could never have imagined this when he’d first found out that Lily was
pregnant, but he wouldn’t change anything. Harry had become the most important part of his life,
and he’d made them a family. James loved him so much that it hurt.

James stepped back from the crib after several long moments of watching Harry breathe, and
glanced up at the mural behind it. It felt like ages ago that Mary and Sirius had made this, though
it’d been less than a year and a half. Things had been so much brighter then. Marlene and Dorcas
had still been with them, for one, and there had been no prophecy looming over their heads. James
traced his fingers over the small figures sitting by the lake in the sun, and tears filled his eyes. He’d
lost so much in the years since he’d sat out by that lake. The figures of Marlene and Dorcas were
blurred by tears, and he touched his fingertips to them, swallowing thickly.

“I miss you,” he told them, his voice soft and cracked with pain.

“James?”

It was Peter’s voice behind him, and James turned, wiping his eyes as he did so, to see his friend in
the doorway. Peter looked tired, and his eyes flicked past James toward the wall, then back to his
face, clearly understanding what he’d just interrupted. He shifted slightly on his feet, looking like
he wanted to duck back out of the doorway again.

“Hey, Pete,” James said, hitching a smile onto his face and striding forward to hug his friend,
clapping him on the shoulder as he did so. When he pulled back, he searched Peter’s face, one hand
clasped on his shoulder. Peter looked a little pale, and his blue eyes were wide and scared. “You
sure about this?”

Peter took a deep breath and nodded. “Sirius convinced me that it’s the best thing to do,” he said,
his voice higher than usual. His eyes flickered past James to Harry’s crib, then back into James’
face. “If you’re sure.”

There was something in his eyes that made James think that he almost wanted James to change his
mind, to tell him that it wasn’t what he wanted, and to back out. But James could also see in his
eyes that he’d do it for them. He wouldn’t back out if James wouldn’t. And James needed to do
what was best for his family.

“I’m sure,” James said, looking back at Peter steadily. “I trust you with my life, Wormtail. Always
have.”

Peter nodded. “I suppose we’d better do it, then,” he said, his gaze shifting towards the door.

James nodded and released Peter’s shoulder, following him out into the hall and down the stairs,
where Lily was waiting.

“Lily’s the best at charm work, so we figured that she should cast it,” James said, moving around
the table and sitting down next to Lily, who had a book open in front of her.

Her eyes flicked over it, no doubt reviewing the theory behind the Fidelius Charm. Peter hesitated
for a moment until Lily looked up at him and gave him a smile, gesturing for him to sit down on
her other side. He did, gazing warily at the book she was pouring over.

“You know what you’re doing, right?” he asked nervously.

Lily looked up at him, raising her eyebrows in slight amusement. “Well, I’ve never cast this spell
before, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said. “But Dumbledore went over it with me very
thoroughly, so I doubt I’ll turn you into a bullfrog or anything.”

“That’s comforting,” Peter said, not looking at all comforted.

“Pete?” James asked, drawing Peter’s attention back onto him. James raised his eyebrows. “You
alright?” he asked with some concern.
Peter swallowed and nodded.

“You’re sure?” James pressed on.

Peter’s eyes flicked from him to Lily, then blurted out: “Are you both really sure that you want me
doing this? I mean, I’m not…I’m not…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“You’re one of my best mates,” James said, reaching across the table to give Peter’s shoulder a
quick, reassuring pat. “Sirius is right: you’re the best person for this. And if the plan works out,
the Death Eaters won’t suspect you at all.”

Peter gazed back at him for a moment, his brows furrowed, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he
was seeing. After a moment, James saw something harden in Peter’s expression, the nervousness
leaving his face to be replaced with something akin to determination, and he nodded. He glanced
over at Lily for confirmation, and she nodded, too, placing her hand over his briefly on the table.

“I trust you, Peter,” she said. “Don’t let us down.”

Peter’s expression twitched slightly at her words, but she gave him a smile and turned back to her
book. After a moment, Lily took out her wand.

“Okay,” she said, turning to Peter, her green eyes intent on his blue ones. “Ready?”

Peter hesitated for only a split-second this time before nodding, his gaze trained on her wand. Lily
took a deep breath, then pressed her wand to his chest, just above his heart. She closed her eyes and
began to murmur a complicated incantation under her breath. The spot where her wand touched
Peter began to glow, and Peter flinched slightly, though he didn’t draw back. His eyes were wide
and trained on her, and James stared at Lily, too, in awe as she continued to murmur under her
breath. The light grew brighter still, and James blinked, his eyes watering as if he was looking into
the sun. After a moment, the glow began to dim, and, if James wasn’t much mistaken, it looked
like the light was being sucked into the spot where Lily’s wand touched Peter. When it was gone,
Lily opened her eyes and removed her wand.

Peter, who’d closed his eyes, too, opened them, blinking bemusedly. His hand went to the spot
where Lily’s wand had been and rubbed it lightly. There was no mark on his shirt, but when he
pulled the collar down to inspect his chest, James saw that there was a light, circular scar. It was
pale and looked like a star against his skin. Peter tugged his shirt back up and looked up at James,
meeting his gaze.

“It’s done, then?” he asked, his voice steady.

Lily nodded. “It’s done,” she confirmed.

“How do you know if it worked?” Peter asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

Lily raised her shoulders in a shrug. “I can feel it,” she replied simply. “When I try to think about
this house, and where we are, it feels all hazy. I know that I wouldn’t be able to tell anyone we’re
here if I tried.”

James thought about it, too, and realized that she was right. He knew where he was, and where
their house was, but suddenly, the two things seemed disconnected in his brain. He hadn’t been
told the secret, and so he didn’t know it, even though he was sitting in his own sitting room.

“Okay,” Peter said, giving a short nod. His gaze flicked first to James, then to Lily. “I’d better go,
then, to find somewhere to hide.”
“Yeah, I suppose,” James said.

There was a pause, where he realized that now this was it. He and Lily were in here, and the whole
world outside was separate from them. Peter would tell Sirius, of course, who would come to visit
in the weeks and months to come, bringing them food and supplies and news. Eventually, he’d tell
others, those that needed to know, Mary, maybe, or Emmeline and Hestia. But for a while, they’d
be all alone. It would be safest.

“Keep safe, mate,” James said, standing at the same time as Peter.

Peter looked up at him and nodded. “I will,” he said, and there was a note of sorrow in his voice,
alongside the determination he’d seen in his friend’s face earlier. “I know what I’m doing.”

James wanted to tell him not to worry, that he’d be alright. Sirius’ plan will keep you safe , he
wanted to say. It’ll keep us all safe. Still, he didn’t think there were any words to reassure Peter,
and for a moment, James felt sadness creep through him, too. These were his friends, his friends
who were risking their lives for him, for Lily, and for Harry. He strode around the table suddenly
and pulled Peter into a fierce hug.

“Thank you,” James whispered before pulling back and looking into his friend’s blue eyes. “Thank
you.”

Peter looked rather taken aback and nodded. “‘Course,” he mumbled, giving James a half-smile.

James patted him on the back, and Peter gave Lily a smile and let her pull him into a hug, too,
before he headed toward the back door, James following him. He put his shoes back on and opened
the door, but hesitated in the doorway. He turned back to James, a look of something like confusion
on his face as he looked up at him.

“We’re still the Marauders, aren’t we?” he asked after a moment, his blue gaze thoughtful. His
question was tentative, as if he was just realizing it himself, and James furrowed his brows, a
slight, bemused smile coming over his face as he looked down at Peter.

“Of course we are,” James said, letting out a little laugh and clapping Peter on the back. “We never
stopped being the Marauders.”

Peter nodded slowly, glancing out at the garden for a long moment. When he looked back at
James, there was a hint of sadness in his gaze again. “Thanks,” he said. “You’re the best mate I’ve
ever had, Prongs. All of you are.”

“You are, too, Wormtail,” James replied sadly. He wished again that he could comfort Peter,
wished he could tell him that he didn’t have to say these things that sounded awfully like a
goodbye, that they’d all be alright, but James stayed silent.

Peter gave him a slight, sad half-smile, and for a moment, James thought he saw a look of
bitterness flash across his face. “Thanks,” he replied, then turned to leave.

James watched as he walked out into the garden, where it was still raining, then turned. He raised
his hand in farewell as Peter faced him, and Peter gave him a nod, his expression unreadable,
before he took a deep breath and turned on the spot, disapparating. James kept his hand raised for a
long time, the back door standing open, looking out into the rain.

We’ll see each other again, James promised himself sadly as he closed the door. When it’s all over,
we’ll be back together again.
 ....

A week later, James smiled as he made puffs of smoke appear in the air in front of Harry with his
wand, and his son reached as high as he could from the sofa, laughing and trying to catch hold of
them. They hadn’t been able to truly celebrate Halloween with Harry this year, of course. The
previous year, they’d dressed him up as a little pumpkin and taken pictures, and, at only three
months old, he’d been adorable.

This time around, they hadn’t had the chance to think of anything to do, and even if they had, was
it really worth it when no one could come over and take pictures, or celebrate with them? It’d been
a fine day, nevertheless. Lily had helped James carve pumpkins, which they’d set out on the stoop,
despite the fact that no passers-by would be able to admire them. Now, James was happy enough
entertaining his son, who didn’t even know it was a holiday, with magic tricks Harry didn’t yet
understand were real.

Lily entered the room, smiling and pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “I think it’s time for
Harry to turn in,” she said.

James grinned and scooped Harry up off the couch, hoisting him into the air in a way that made
him giggle and handing him over to Lily. He reached out to ruffle his son’s hair.

“Sleep tight, Harry,” he said, and Lily smiled, moving off toward the door to take Harry upstairs.

James threw his wand down onto the couch, stretching and yawning. Outside, he could hear the
sounds of footsteps of the many trick-or-treaters, the rustle of the wind in the trees, a creak of a
door or gate, and the hoot of an owl. Across the room, Callie lifted her head from where she’d been
curled on an armchair, sniffing the air with her eyes narrowed.

The silence of the night was rent apart suddenly by the sound of the front door bursting open.
James’ eyes widened, and Callie leapt off the chair with a hiss, streaking under the coffee table to
hide. Without a moment’s hesitation, James sprinted for the hallway. Skidding to a halt, he glanced
upwards toward the stairs and saw Lily looking over the landing above, her green eyes wide and
terrified. In her arms, Harry looked curious, craning his neck to see what was going on below.

“Lily, take Harry and go!” James shouted desperately at her, knowing as he did so that this would
be the last time he ever saw them—his wife and son. “It’s him! Go! Run! I’ll hold him off!”

Their eyes met for a split second, and in that one look, they communicated all they needed to. In
that look, James told her that he loved her and begged her to run.

James turned toward the hall, hearing her footsteps rushing above him and thanking Merlin for it.
His eyes met Voldemort’s red ones, and he only had time to realize that he’d left his wand in the
sitting room and that he could do no more than be a human shield before the wizard laughed,
raising his wand to deal a killing blow.

In James’ last moment before the spell was cast, he didn’t think of ways to escape, nor did he think
of his life, or all that he was leaving behind. Instead, Peter’s determined expression flashed before
his eyes, along with Sirius’ as he’d pleaded for James to agree to the plan. As the green light
flashed around the room and James felt the rush of impending nothingness, his last thought was
that something must have gone horribly wrong.
 1981: The Betrayal
Chapter Notes

Writing this chapter broke my brain. Editing it today broke it again…so…enjoy?

cw: major character deaths (the same ones as last chapter), unnamed character deaths,
graphic depictions of violence

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Sirius sat bolt upright, breathing heavily, sweat beading on his brow. He let out a deep breath as he
looked around, his rapidly pounding heart slowing slightly as he realized that it was just a dream.
He closed his eyes, trying to push the memory of green light and screams out of his mind. He’d
been having more nightmares than usual lately. They’d gotten worse after Marlene died, then
Dorcas, and in the last week it’d felt like every time Sirius closed his eyes he descended into one.
These days he’d been resisting going to sleep for that very reason, but it always caught up to him,
like today, when he’d fallen asleep in the mid-afternoon after telling himself that he’d just rest his
eyes for a while.

Sirius swung his legs off the old, rickety couch he’d been sleeping on, and winced as his bare feet
touched the cold floor. He’d moved locations twice in the last week, determined not to stay
anywhere longer than a few days. The previous morning, he’d found this abandoned flat in Bristol
to camp out at while the building manager was supposedly making renovations. It was drafty and
there was mold growing in the loo, but it would do for a few days.

Sirius walked over to the small window and peered out. The sun had clearly set hours ago, but
Sirius could see many lights lit in windows and the sound of raucous celebration issuing in the pub
down the street. It was Halloween, Sirius remembered tiredly. Of course people were celebrating.

He checked his watch and found that it was half past nine. He was meant to meet Peter at eleven at
his hiding place to make sure he was alright. The weekly meetings had been Sirius’ idea,
something to quell the anxiety from being separated from his friends for the foreseeable future,
powerless to help them if they got into trouble. Sirius had to remind himself that his job was to
protect his friends by being the bait for when the Death Eaters inevitably found out about the
Fidelius Charm. Still, it was hard to be the one waiting and wondering.

Sirius moved over toward the little kitchen in the flat and experimentally turned the knob for the
stove. There was a crackling noise, but the stove didn’t turn on. He turned it off and then tried
again, with the same result. Sirius decided to give it up as a bad job and opened the fridge to grab a
wedge of cheese he’d bought the other day. He grabbed a loaf of bread from the counter and tore
off a chunk, then cut a slice of cheese to eat with it. It wasn’t half bad. The loaf was a little stale
and would’ve been better toasted if he could’ve managed to turn on the stove, but there was only so
much he could do with limited resources.

If Remus were here, Sirius knew that he’d give him a half-smile and ask him: “Well, what’d you
expect from being on the run? Five-star accommodations? Room service?”

Sirius smiled to himself for a moment, but it slipped from his face as he remembered Lily’s words
to him: “We can switch Secret Keepers to create a ruse for the Death Eaters, but please tell Remus
the truth.”

Sirius shut his eyes for a moment and sighed. He thought that Lily was probably right about him
with all she’d said the previous week, but that didn’t stop him from wondering whether maybe he
was the one who was correct and whether it was a bad idea to trust Remus. He hadn’t yet decided
what he’d do. He thought that after a couple of weeks, he might go back to their flat for a few days,
and then he might talk to Remus.

He thought of their goodbye, and the resigned look on Remus’ face as Sirius had left. He’d gotten
used to seeing that look, these last few months, and yet he hated that he was the one to cause it. It
was this unspoken thing between them: the fact that Sirius didn’t trust Remus, and Remus knew it.
Sometimes they still had their moments, where they could forget that that was how things were.
Sometimes Sirius still kissed Remus, and Remus kissed him back, and they’d lose themselves in
each other for a while. Sometimes they still laughed and teased one another as though nothing had
changed since they’d left Hogwarts three years before. Most of the time, though, it was silence and
sadness, and the knowledge that neither could offer comfort to the other for what they were going
through.

Sirius sighed and checked his watch again. It was half past nine. It would take him an hour on his
motorbike to get to where Peter was—maybe an hour and a half if he had to avoid airplanes.
Perhaps he’d leave now instead of waiting around with nothing but his dark thoughts to keep him
company. That was the trouble with being alone these days, and perhaps that was why Sirius’
nightmares had increased. With the loss of Marlene, and then Dorcas, his thoughts had become
louder with fewer people to drown out the noise. Now there was no one to muffle them, and Sirius
didn’t like it one bit.

Sirius finished his meal of stale bread and cheese and moved over to the door, pulling on his jacket
and lacing up his boots. He grabbed his rucksack and swung it over his shoulder. It contained little
more than a few changes of clothes and a couple of toiletries, but that had been enough thus far.
That and his motorbike were the only things he’d brought with him. The bike wasn’t very practical
—apparition was easier, quicker, and less traceable, and yet Sirius found that moving from place to
place with it was the only joy he had left, so he didn’t want to let it go.

Before Sirius exited the flat, he cast a disillusionment charm on himself. It would hide him from
any workers in the building, and he’d need it for the trip, too. It wouldn’t do for Muggles to see a
man flying through the West Country on a motorbike in the middle of the night.

Sirius closed the door of the flat quietly behind him and then hurried toward the stairwell at the end
of the hallway. He descended the three flights of stairs to the street, then listened at the door for a
moment before pushing it open. The dark alleyway looked empty, but Sirius moved out cautiously
toward the place where he’d left his motorbike under another disillusionment charm. He reached
out in the dark, his hands searching for one of the motorbike’s handles, and after a moment, he
found it.

Sirius wrapped his hand gratefully around the handle, using it to guide him as he swung his leg
over the motorbike. He placed the key in the ignition and turned it, hearing the familiar sound of
the engine starting with relief. Sirius glanced around the alleyway, checking that it was still empty,
then he kicked the motorbike to life and was off. He drove fast toward the end of the alleyway,
pressing down on the pedal he’d installed that made the motorcycle fly, and the front wheel lifted
off from the ground, the back following it in seconds.

Sirius allowed himself a smile as the motorbike rose higher, just missing the top of the building at
the end of the alley as it climbed. This was the feeling he’d been waiting for: the release of taking
to the sky, his hair whipping all around his face in the cold night air. He could just make out the
shape of the crescent moon hanging high above him through the clouds. The air was heavy with
moisture around him, and as he flew on, away from the dense cluster of lights that was Bristol and
down the coast, it began to rain.

The bike sped through the sky at a speed that no ordinary vehicle could manage, and Sirius felt a
flicker of pride go through him at its capabilities. The motorbike had been perfectly normal when
Sirius had bought it just after he’d graduated Hogwarts, but he’d spent the better part of the first
year working on it. Now, it was one of a kind as far as he knew. He suspected that it was probably
against wizarding law to enchant a Muggle vehicle as he had, but he’d broken enough rules in his
lifetime to know what was worth the risk, and what wasn’t. This had been.

Sirius watched the coast disappear under him as he flew further, and made a note to himself not to
venture too far from it. The straightest path to where he was headed in Cornwall took him only a
little into the Bristol Channel before he descended back over fields and mountains, but Sirius
enjoyed the salty air while he could. When land reappeared, he glanced down once in a while to
view the twinkle of town lights, the roll of dark hills and fields, and the stretch of a lonely road
beneath him. He liked the West Country of England, liked its space and beauty just as he liked the
city for its bustle of people and clusters of stores on every street.

After an hour of flying, Sirius was cold and damp, and he shivered slightly as he scanned the dark
landscape below him, flying lower. He slowed as he made out the river curving beneath him, and
began to descend further until his wheels landed on the dimly lit road that led to the town he was
looking for.

Camelford was a tiny town in Cornwall, and most of its occupants were Muggles, despite the fact
that it was about as famous as any place could be in wizarding history books, due to its proximity
to the site of King Arthur’s final battle. Sirius remembered reading about it as a child: one of the
only entertaining stories his tutors had told him. For them, it’d always been about the famous
wizard Merlin and his contribution to the history books, and yet Sirius had always been more
interested in Arthur and his knights. He’d loved their bravery, the tales of their heroism, and the
scandalous twists of love, betrayal, and revenge.

Sometimes, even now, Sirius thought about the promise that all the storybooks said: that Arthur
would one day return to save his people. He’d really believed that as a child; he’d believed all of
the stories. At Hogwarts, Sirius had learned that while wizards knew that the stories of Arthur and
Merlin had been based on truth, the storybooks had since exaggerated their lore to the point of
fiction. Still, a part of Sirius thought hopefully that if there was any time that Arthur was needed, it
was now.

Sirius tore himself from his thoughts as he passed a few houses on the road, and he began to scan
his surroundings for the address that he knew Peter was staying at. Peter had made his hideout
here in a house whose occupants had recently been killed by Death Eaters—Sirius remembered
responding to that call, and his throat clenched with the image of what he’d found in that house.
He’d never have stayed there, knowing what had happened to its previous occupants, but he had to
admit that it was a good place to hide logically, as the Death Eaters would never think to search a
place they’d already been.

Sirius rounded the corner and immediately spotted the place he was looking for: a little farmhouse
complete with blue gables. Sirius pulled his bike into the driveway and turned it off, then
dismounted. His legs felt a little rubbery after sitting for so long, but he made his way up to the
door steadily, checking his watch as he did so. It was a quarter to eleven. Sirius couldn’t see any
lights on in the house, but they could’ve been concealed from the outside. He knocked softly, then
waited. No reply. Pulling his wand out of his pocket, Sirius murmured the complex unlocking spell
they’d agreed on, and the door clicked open.

Sirius moved inside cautiously, looking around at his surroundings and trying not to think about
the last time he’d been there. He locked the door behind him, then removed the disillusionment
charm from himself. Turning, Sirius peered down the empty hallway, looking for any light under a
door that would tell him where Peter was.

“Wormtail?” Sirius whispered, lighting his wand as he moved down the hall. “Are you here?”

There was no reply but the creak of the floorboards and the soft whisper of dust as Sirius’ footsteps
disturbed it upon the ground.

Sirius opened door after door as he moved down the hallway, but the rooms were all empty. When
he reached the last one, he opened it and raised his wand to light the space. He spotted a sleeping
bag lying over the bare mattress, a comb on the dresser, and an empty sandwich wrapper lying next
to it. Moving over toward the closet, Sirius opened it to find Peter’s rucksack lying on the ground,
open, a mess of clothes inside. He let out a breath of relief. Peter was still staying here, and by the
looks of it, nothing was amiss. Perhaps he was just out to get some fresh air or buying food or
something. Sirius was early, after all.

Sirius sunk onto the mattress, checking his watch again as he did so. It was ten till. He sighed and
craned his neck to look through the windows of the bedroom toward the dark backyard. No light
shone in the darkness, no sign of Peter’s return from wherever he was. Sirius felt a surge of
annoyance. Peter had better have a good explanation for what he was doing roaming around the
countryside when he got back. He’d better be taking precautions. Sirius hadn’t devised this whole
plan only for Peter to fuck it all up by getting himself caught being careless.

The minutes ticked by, and Sirius waited. At five to eleven, Sirius stood up again and began to
pace. He hesitated, then moved toward the door of the bedroom, back out into the hallway, his lit
wand aloft. He walked slowly and quietly into the kitchen, his wandlight illuminating the orderly
cupboards and a few apples standing on the counter in a basket. A long dried-out mint plant stood
by the window. Sirius moved on into the dining room, where the table was covered in a light layer
of dust, and the chairs were all pushed neatly in. In the sitting room, there was the only other
evidence of Peter’s presence: the armchair in the corner was free of dust, obviously having been
recently sat in. The TV was also clean. Sirius checked his watch again and saw that it was exactly
eleven now. He pointed his wand toward the dark hallway and the front door again, hoping that it
would show him a short figure opening the door. It was still empty.

“Where are you, Pete?” Sirius whispered, trying to keep the panic at bay.

He shook the feeling off, trying to tell himself that it was all alright. Peter was known for not being
the most punctual; maybe he’d gotten caught up with whatever he was doing and lost track of the
time. But what was he doing, anyway? Sirius swallowed, his heart beating fast. He turned back to
the sitting room, raising his wand higher into the air to illuminate it. There was nothing out of
place, nothing amiss.

Sirius walked back through the dining room, then the kitchen, looking frantically this time for any
clue of where Peter could be—any sign of a struggle. There was nothing. He looked in all the other
bedrooms again, then opened the door that descended into the basement, and walked down the
dark steps.

The cold, dark room below held no more answers than any of the ones upstairs. There were boxes
lined up neatly along the wall—storage for the Muggles who’d lived here before, no doubt—along
with a washing machine and a dryer stacked in a corner. Sirius coughed as he inhaled the dust,
covering his mouth with his hand as he shone the wandlight into every corner of the dusty
basement until he was satisfied that there really was nothing there. Sirius dropped his wand, swore,
and kicked over a box so it spilled its contents onto the floor. An assortment of old baby clothes
and toys tumbled out. Sirius stared at them for a moment, then shook his head, turning back to the
stairs.

When Sirius had closed the door to the basement behind him, he moved back down the hall to the
bedroom where Peter had slept. Throwing caution to the winds, Sirius flicked the light on,
illuminating the room. It was still as empty as it’d been in dim light, with no more clues to Peter’s
whereabouts. Sirius flicked the light off again, and as darkness fell, he allowed fear to truly take
over. He reached for the bracelet he wore with the phoenix on it, shining his wandlight on it and
trying to find any message that might be scrawled there to give him some reason why this place
was deserted. It was as unhelpful as the empty house.

Sirius looked around, his breath coming fast in the silence. This wasn’t right. Sirius knew that
logically, this could be nothing, a mere miscommunication or a fluke, and Peter could turn up
within minutes. If he did, Sirius thought he might hit Peter for the panic he’d caused. But Sirius
didn’t think that would be what happened at all. He felt somewhere deep in his stomach, in his
chest, in his whole body, that something had gone horribly, horribly wrong. His fists clenched and
unclenched as he tried to decide what to do. The seconds ticked by.

Finally, as if jolted by an electric current into motion once more, Sirius turned on his heel and
hurried out of the room. He walked fast down the hallway, throwing the front door of the house
open, then taking the steps two at a time. He hurried toward the place he knew his bike to be and
grasped for the handlebars in the dark. They were there, solid and reassuring, and Sirius mounted
his bike, pulling out his wand as he did so and pointing it at himself, casting a hasty
disillusionment charm once again. He knew it was sloppy, but he figured it hardly mattered: it was
very late that night, and it was Halloween, after all. No one would believe what they saw to be
anything more than theatre if they saw anything at all. Apparition would’ve been faster, but in
Sirius’ state, he didn’t trust himself to do it properly, and if he splinched himself, he’d be no help to
anyone.

Sirius revved his bike into life and took off back down the street, not hesitating before pressing the
pedal that would lift him off, and taking to the air at a sharp angle. Blood pumped through his
veins frantically, and he barely noticed the cold wind against his skin. He accelerated the bike
further, pushing it to its limits as he sped east, following the compass on his bike. Perhaps it was
nothing, but if something had happened, Sirius had to get to Godric’s Hollow…he had to get to
James, Lily, and Harry.

It took Sirius only fifteen minutes to get to the town, and he flew lower above it, searching for the
street where Lily and James lived. When he spotted it, Sirius inclined his bike sharply downwards
in a dive, not caring if it was dangerous. As he drew lower, Sirius’ heart, which had been pounding
rapidly in his chest, seemed to stop entirely. His mouth opened wide, aghast at the sight below
him…because the house, Lily and James’ house…was destroyed.

Sirius landed on the sidewalk in a skid, smelling the singed scent of rubber as he stopped abruptly.
He noticed as he did so that the bike was visible once more, as were his hands. Clearly, his
disillusionment charm had been worn away by the shock and fear of the night. Sirius didn’t think
about anything, though, as he dismounted his bike and shoved it aside, racing to the gate of the
house and flinging it open. He ran through the front garden and up the front steps, noticing as he
did so that they were falling apart below his feet, and that the front door was hanging wide open,
letting the night in. For a moment, the sight was all too much, and Sirius had to grasp the railing on
the stairs to steady himself as he swayed on the spot. He felt more terrified than he ever had in his
whole life, and black spots emerged in his vision, his breath coming out in gasps. He didn’t want to
enter the house, didn’t want to know what he’d find in there, but he had to.

Sirius took a deep breath and blinked, trying to clear his vision. He closed his eyes tightly for a
moment, and when he opened them again, it took a few seconds to believe that the sight before him
was real. A giant man stood in the doorway of the blown-apart house, looking down at him and
holding a small bundle in his arms. Sirius blinked again, trying to make sense of the scene before
him before a rush of horrible comprehension dawned on him.

“Hagrid,” Sirius said, his voice shaking, his hand still on the banister to steady himself. “What—
what are you doing? Why do you have Harry?”

Sirius’ godson was squirming slightly in Hagrid’s arms, whimpering. Hagrid ducked under the
doorway and walked slowly toward Sirius, and as Sirius’ panicked gaze flicked from the giant’s
face to the boy in his arms, he took in two things: one, that Hagrid’s expression behind his thick
beard was full of sorrow, and two, that Harry had a dark slash on his forehead in the shape of a
lightning bolt that hadn’t been there the last time he’d seen him.

“Sirius,” Hagrid greeted him, his voice low and sad. “I’m here on Dumbledore’s orders, ter take
Harry ter his aunt an’ uncle’s.”

“Take him?” Sirius asked, his head still swimming, shaking slightly as he looked up at the giant.
“Why? Where are James and Lily? What—what happened?” His voice broke on the last word, and
he looked past Hagrid toward the door, hoping against hope that James and Lily would follow the
giant out of the house. Instead, it was only darkness that met Sirius’ gaze, the doorway looking like
a gaping hole into an infinite chasm.

“You-Know-Who was here, Sirius,” Hagrid said, his voice thick with tears as his beetle-black eyes
stared down into Sirius’, trying to make him understand. “They…they didn’ make it. He—”

“No,” Sirius interrupted loudly, shaking his head in swift denial because he couldn’t hear Hagrid
utter those words. “They’re not dead...they can’t be.”

“I’m sorry,” Hagrid said, shaking his great, shaggy head, his voice full of real grief as he looked
down at Sirius. “I really am. But they’re gone.”

Sirius looked past him toward the door, shaking his head as if it would keep the words from
reaching him, then ducked around the giant toward the house.

“Yeh don’ wanna go in there,” Hagrid called after him, surprise at Sirius’ quick movement
coloring his voice. “Sirius, yeh don’ wanna see—”

Sirius didn’t listen to the rest and ignored the half-giant, racing into the hallway, looking around
frantically for evidence that Hagrid was lying…that they weren’t gone. Instead, Sirius tripped over
something on the floor.

He fell in slow motion, his hands moving to catch himself before his head hit the floor, and when
he pushed himself up to look at the thing he’d tripped over, his blood seemed to freeze in his veins.
Sirius couldn’t do anything else but stare, his whole body going as still as he’d ever been in his
whole life, his mind going blank. The only thought that he was conscious of at that moment was
that this must be another nightmare, just another horrible dream, and in a moment he’d wake in that
same musty flat in Bristol and find that he still had to meet Peter. Because the sight of James Potter
on the floor—his glasses askew and his eyes closed, his body limp like a ragdoll—couldn’t be real.
All of Sirius’ senses must be lying to him.

Sirius was frozen for a moment longer, looking down at James’ face, then he sat up, pulling
himself off of James. He reached down slowly, dreamlike, and his hands fastened on James’
shoulders, lifting him slightly off the ground. Slowly, experimentally, Sirius gave him a shake.

“James,” he croaked, his voice hoarse. “Wake up.”

James didn’t move. He didn’t breathe. His eyelids didn’t flutter open, and he didn’t stretch and
blink up at Sirius, bemused at what was going on. He hung in Sirius’ arms, floppy and limp.

“Prongs!” Sirius shouted, his voice louder now as he tried to call his best friend back from a place
of no return. “Prongs, wake up! Wake up!”

He shouted the words into James’ face, but James didn’t wake. Sirius shook him again, anger
rushing through him even as he pushed his grief away, pushed away the tide that threatened to
overtake him because James Potter couldn’t be dead…he wasn’t dead.

“James!” he shouted again, but Sirius’ body was shaking now, and he lifted James up into his
arms, hugging him close to his chest, refusing to believe what he knew was the truth.

James’ body was cold against Sirius’, limp and useless, head lolling into Sirius’ shoulder—a
parody of a hug. Distantly, from the direction of the front door, Sirius heard Harry begin to cry.
And yet Sirius couldn’t—he couldn’t cry. He couldn’t take it in. His breath came in short gasps,
and his mind didn’t feel at all connected with reality.

This can’t be real, he thought to himself as his vision fragmented. This has to be a nightmare. Just
another nightmare. Still, he clutched James to his chest as he heard Hagrid make soothing noises to
Harry from the front of the house, and as he felt the world tear itself apart around him.

Sirius didn’t know exactly when he’d released James’ body, when he’d decided to mount the stairs
to the second floor. He only knew when he was on the landing, stumbling down the dark hallway
toward the open door through which a breeze drifted—Harry’s nursery. When he made it past the
doorway another horror met his eyes, another piece of his nightmare unfolded.

Lily lay on the ground, spreadeagled, her long red hair tumbled out around her, her eyes closed, just
as James’ had been. Her arms were stretched out on either side of her, and Sirius, in his agony,
imagined her standing like that in front of Harry’s crib, falling like a marionette to the floor in that
position. He ran to her side, his hands going to her shoulders, just as he had with James.

“Lily!” he shouted at her, yet she was no more responsive than her husband. Sirius sank to his
knees, his head in his hands. “What have I done?” he whispered, horror filling his voice. “What
have I done what have I done what have I done…”

Sirius needed to wake up. He rose to his feet and began to pace the room, staring around at the
wrecked furniture and avoiding looking at Lily’s body on the ground. The wall behind Harry’s crib
looked like it’d been coated with acid, the paint of the mural that Sirius and Mary had made
peeling away in places, bubbling in others. There was a hole in the far wall—the source of the
breeze he’d felt in the hall. Whatever had happened here had reverberated through the room,
through the house, tearing it apart. Sirius put his hands to his head, tugging at his hair and pacing.

“Wake up,” he said to himself softly at first, closing his eyes tight against the vision of the room
around him. “Wake up, wake up, WAKE UP!”

He yelled the last words, tearing at his hair, but no rush of consciousness came, no escape was
provided. Nothing but the harsh reality came to him, the knowledge that this wasn’t a dream. It
was real. Sirius screwed up his face against the tears that were now urgently pressing against the
backs of his eyes, and he threw himself down next to Lily again.

“Please wake up,” he said, his hand finding hers, intertwining her fingers with his. Hers were cold
and limp. “I’m sorry,” Sirius pleaded, as if the apology would bring her back. “I did this. I’m
sorry.”

Because Sirius knew what had happened here. It was all part of the bad dream, the same one he’d
been having for months, but now it was real, and he knew now that he’d gotten it all wrong…the
nightmare had come true, and it’d been his fault in the end. It was his doing. He’d tried to protect
himself from it, but he hadn’t seen what would truly be the flaw in the plan. He hadn’t seen his
weakness for what it was. But Lily had. Lily had told him. And now she was dead, and it was his
fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. Sirius hadn’t been good enough. He hadn’t protected her. He
hadn’t protected James. He hadn’t protected Harry. Harry.

Sirius was racing back down the stairs in an instant, running past James’ body, refusing to look at
it, with nothing in his mind other than what James would’ve wanted him to do. He raced out the
door and almost collided with Hagrid, who was still standing there, Harry in his arms. He’d waited
for Sirius. He hadn’t left.

“I’m sorry, Sirius,” Hagrid said as he stepped back, putting the hand that wasn’t holding Harry onto
Sirius’ shoulder and giving him a comforting pat that nearly buckled Sirius’ knees. “Lily and
James…they were some o’ the bes’ people I ever knew. I know they were like family ter yeh.”

“They were—” Sirius broke off, trying hard not to let his voice shake again, trying hard to push
back the tears, push back the rising tide of hysteria that threatened to engulf him. His family…
James, Lily…the Potters…Regulus…all gone, all gone… “They were my family. They are my
family. They—” His voice broke, and he pushed again against the feeling that was trying to take
him over, pushed it back with more effort than he’d ever done in his life. He looked up at the giant
as steadily as he could.

“Give Harry to me, Hagrid,” he said, his voice still shaking slightly despite his efforts to steady it.
“I’m his godfather. I’ll look after him.”

A thousand moments rushed through his mind: Euphemia hugging him on her doorstep the night
he’d run away from his parents’ house…Fleamont giving him a proud look when he’d gotten his
letter from the Auror office…James grinning across at him on the first day of September when
they’d met, the first day that he’d pushed his way into Sirius’ life and refused to let go…Lily
sitting next to him on a cold ledge at Hogwarts, sharing a cigarette as she told him how scared she
was to let James love her, and how her words had made a twisted part inside of him feel a little less
alone, too…the smile she’d given him the first time he’d held Harry…her saying that they were a
family. Sirius could give that to Harry—no, he had to give it to him. He’d made a promise.

“I can’t, Sirius,” Hagrid said regretfully, shaking his head. “I’ve got me orders from Dumbledore.
I’m ter take ‘im ter his aunt an’ uncle’s. They’ll protect ‘im.”

“No,” Sirius said, shaking his head angrily. “Lily and James told me to look after him. They trusted
me. I can protect him. I have to give him the family he needs, Hagrid. I have to do what they
would’ve wanted!”

“I’m sorry,” Hagrid said, and he really did look it. “Dumbledore said tha’ Harry’d be safer at his
aunt and uncle’s ‘n anywhere else. Lily died ter save ‘im, see? Now, on’y her sister can protect ‘im
‘cause they share blood.”
“I don’t care about fucking blood!” Sirius shouted into the night, and he saw a few birds take flight
from their tree in alarm. “I don’t care, Hagrid. Harry’s my family, James was my brother, and Lily
wanted me to take care of her son! Me and Mary!”

“I know, Sirius,” Hagrid said, his voice low and sympathetic. “I know they were family ter yeh.
But they died tryin’ ter protect their son from You-Know-Who. Now, his bes’ chance ter keep safe
is with his mum’s family. They wanted ‘im ter live, Sirius.”

“I—” Sirius started, then broke off.

He felt fragmented. He turned away for a moment, his hands clenching into fists and unclenching
again as he tried to think, tried to make a decision. He needed to take care of Harry…he needed to
fulfill James and Lily’s wishes…and yet he needed to keep Harry alive. Did he trust Dumbledore to
do that? Well, Dumbledore needed Harry, too, didn’t he? He needed him for the prophecy if it
wasn’t already fulfilled.

“Is Voldemort dead?” Sirius asked, turning back to Hagrid, wild-eyed. “Is he dead? What
happened? Why didn’t he kill Harry?”

“I dunno,” Hagrid replied helplessly. “I think he might be. I dunno. Somethin’ happened here
tonight. Somethin’ stopped ‘im.”

“Well, if he’s—”

“Dumbledore’s still worried,” Hagrid cut in, as he knew exactly what Sirius was about to say. “He
still thinks tha’ Harry needs protection. The Death Eaters are still out there, Sirius. I’m sorry, but
I’m followin’ orders an’ I’m taking Harry.”

It was this last statement that solidified Sirius’ decision… the Death Eaters are still out there. They
were, and Harry was still in danger, and Sirius needed to, he needed—

“Alright,” Sirius said finally, looking back up at Hagrid.

Harry, in the giant’s arms, stared between them as if he was trying to make sense of what was
happening, too. Sirius looked down at Harry directly, then, and a flood of regret washed through
him as he met his gaze, seeing Lily’s green eyes staring back at him. He looked up at Hagrid, and
Hagrid seemed to see the unspoken question in his eyes, and he nodded, handing Harry over to
Sirius. Sirius took him in his arms, hugging his godson close to his chest. Then, he pulled back, and
looking straight into Harry’s eyes, though he knew that Harry wouldn’t be able to understand him,
he said:

“I’ll come back for you. I won’t leave you alone. I promise, Harry.”

Harry just blinked up at Sirius in confusion, and Sirius had to hold back his tears again as he
handed his godson back to Hagrid.

“Take care of him,” he told Hagrid, and Hagrid gave him a solemn nod.

“I will,” he said. “Take care o’ yerself, Sirius.”

He patted him on the shoulder again, and Sirius nodded. Another piece of his heart seemed to
shatter as he watched Hagrid walk down the stairs away from him, Harry in his arms. Sirius had a
moment of panic, then called out:

“Wait!”
Hagrid turned, his bushy brows furrowed, and Sirius knew he was about to protest, ready to argue
with Sirius again, but Sirius was already running down the stairs toward him.

“Take my motorbike,” Sirius said before Hagrid could ask him what he was doing. His heart
clenched at the thought of abandoning his bike, but he knew he couldn’t take it with him, not
where he was going. He had a matter of hours before the Ministry would be after him. “I won’t
need it anymore. You can take it to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle’s.”

Hagrid looked confused, then glanced out toward the street, where the motorbike was parked. “I
don’ think that’ll hold me, Sirius,” he said.

Sirius shook his head and hurried toward the gate, his wand out. When he reached his bike, Sirius
only had to murmur a quick spell to make it swell to almost twice its usual size before stepping
back.

“It’ll be fine,” he said, turning back to Hagrid, who’d followed him hesitantly. “Please, it’ll—it’ll
keep you both safe.”

Sirius didn’t know exactly why he was doing it, other than the fact that he knew he’d have to leave
the bike behind anyway, and that at least this was one last thing he could do to protect his godson.
The motorbike had a dozen different protection spells on it. He knew that Hagrid couldn’t apparate,
and he didn’t know what he’d planned for the trip back, but Sirius guessed that whatever he had,
this would be safer.

“Alrigh’,” Hagrid replied, still sounding a bit wary and confused. “Thanks, Sirius. I’ll bring it back
ter yeh after.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sirius said, shaking his head. “Just take it.”

Hagrid nodded and swung his leg over the vehicle. Sirius quickly showed him how to start the bike
and how to make it fly, then he stepped back, watching as Hagrid gave him a last farewell wave
and kicked the bike into motion, one arm still wrapped around Harry. He watched them as they
sped away down the street, then lifted off into the air, becoming a pinprick in the night sky in
seconds.

Sirius turned back to look at the ruined house from outside the gate. Now that the world had
sharpened once again, he couldn’t push back another wave of grief as the knowledge of what had
happened that night, and why, hit him. Sirius put his hand on the gate to steady himself, looking
around. People were starting to come out of their houses, starting to point and stare at the ruins,
whispering to one another and looking frantic. He knew he had to leave before the Muggles started
crowding around, especially before Lily and James’ wizarding neighbors arrived along with them.

Still, Sirius couldn’t make himself move. Part of him wanted to go back inside and just sit with
their bodies—James’ and Lily’s—and stay there forever. Perhaps part of him was already in there,
still lying on the ground where he’d tripped over James, frozen in place and unable to move a
muscle. Maybe he was just another dead body, waiting there to be found by the authorities, waiting
to be buried.

James’ voice came back to him, then, clear and urgent, saying: “I do not accept your death, Sirius.
You better fucking promise me that you’re going to do everything you can to live to a boring old
age and die in your bed with Remus next to you.” Sirius had promised him that, he’d promised him
that he’d do everything he could to survive. Still, was this surviving? Sirius felt as if he was already
dead. And yet Sirius knew that he’d keep his promise: he would do everything he could.
“It’s not over,” Sirius said to himself, his hand still clenching the gate as he looked up at the house,
the house that had been a home just a few hours before. He thought of James, laying on the ground
in the hallway—James, who’d died to protect Lily and Harry, and of Lily, who’d spread her arms
out in front of Harry’s crib to save her son, too.

“You won’t die for nothing,” Sirius promised them quietly. “I won’t let you die for nothing.”

So despite the fact that there was now a hollow where his heart had been, despite the fact that
everything in his head was screaming, Sirius turned and walked away from the house. He walked
past the people starting to gather, his head down, face in shadow, toward an alley. When he
reached it, he looked around to see if there was anyone watching him. There was a burning in his
chest, a pain that he couldn’t ever fix, but there was also a roaring in his ears, an anger that had
flared and wouldn’t go away, and he didn’t want it to. He’d already destroyed everything, so what
was the point in harnessing it now? He’d find Peter, and he’d end it. He turned on the spot,
searching his way through the compressing darkness until at last he appeared back outside the
blue-gabled house in Camelford.

“You can’t hide, Peter,” Sirius said, his voice low as the door burst open magically without him
having to even raise his wand. He stepped in through the doorway to the dark house and shut the
door behind him. If there were clues to be found here, Sirius would find them.

....

Sirius didn’t sleep that night. He was wide awake: angry, broken, and full of adrenaline. He tore
the house apart, savoring the satisfaction he took in wrecking the few belongings that Peter had left
behind in the house. He knew why Peter had stayed there now: so that he could be close to Lily
and James but still able to flee at a moment’s notice.

At dawn, Sirius stood on the porch of the empty house, staring out into the sunrise and waiting for
the moment to act. He felt as though his insides had been carved out by a blunt knife, and he
needed to occupy himself with this anger or there would be nothing left.

Sirius took out a cigarette and lit it deftly with his wand, inhaling as he looked out at the sky,
though not really seeing it. The smoke cleared his head, the burn of his lungs as he coughed once
soothing him as only further pain could at this moment. He imagined Peter—wherever he was—
and wondered what he was thinking. A surge of satisfaction went through Sirius as he imagined
Peter’s fear. He must know by now what had happened, how his plan had failed…how Voldemort
had gone, and Harry had survived. He must know that Sirius was hunting him.

Peter had known Sirius all through Hogwarts, and so he’d know, too, what happened when Sirius
was angry. Sirius had seen his friends scared of him before—seen the looks on their faces
sometimes at Hogwarts when he’d lost his head and lashed out. He’d seen them flinch away. Back
then, it’d always made him feel even more wounded, even more broken and terrible within himself,
but now it made him feel powerful. Peter should be afraid of him. He should be afraid to answer
for what he’d done. He should be quaking in his boots as he waited for Sirius’ retribution for the
betrayal he’d dealt his friends, and for the death he’d caused.

Now, Sirius understood at last what he hadn’t been able to see before. He understood all the
moments of fear and guilt that had flashed across Peter’s face in the recent months. Sirius had been
blinded by his own fear of trusting Remus, but now he saw Peter clearly for the first time in his
life. Peter, the coward. Peter, who he now knew must’ve resented James for asking Dumbledore to
admit him into the Order. Peter, who hadn’t even taken Defense Against the Dark Arts to
N.E.W.T.s because he’d never felt he needed it. Peter, who must’ve felt deep down that this wasn’t
his fight, and had given them all up to the dark side because he hadn’t cared. Peter, the traitor.
Sirius buried the pain of the betrayal under anger, locked it away in a small part of his brain, and
refused to think about Peter as the boy he’d been, as the friend who’d been there for them all for so
many years. It didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered except that James was gone, Lily was gone,
Dorcas and Marlene were gone, as well as countless others, all because Peter had been too
cowardly to save them. Now, he’d pay for it.

Sirius pulled from his pocket the only thing he’d found in Peter’s rucksack that he hadn’t
destroyed, the only thing that might give a clue to where Peter was. It was a picture of Peter
standing next to his mother with his arm around her, his younger brother and sister standing in front
of them. Peter was smiling in it, looking down at his siblings before looking back into the flash of
the camera. This was the only personal item that he’d taken with him into hiding. He’d left it here
for Sirius to find, which Sirius thought was just another point against him, that he hadn’t cared
enough about the photograph to take it with him when he’d fled. Still, it was a piece of his heart,
and Sirius would take whatever part of it he could get his hands on.

Sirius waited on the porch for a while, smoking his cigarette down until there was nothing left, and
watching the sun rise higher in the sky. If he was right, and Peter would stay to say goodbye to his
mother for the last time, he wasn’t likely to find him there in the early morning. Sirius waited until
the thrum of his blood in his veins was too much, until he couldn’t stand still for a moment longer.
He breathed in the fresh air of the morning, then descended the stairs to the street with purpose. He
walked a little way down the driveway, out of sight of any neighbors looking out of their windows,
then turned on the spot, holding the image of the street in Bradford in his mind as he disappeared
into the compressing darkness.

When Sirius landed in the familiar alley, a few blocks away from the place Peter had grown up, he
had to take a few deep breaths before his lungs seemed to reinflate, and he was able to catch his
breath. Once he had, he looked around, but the side street was as deserted as ever. In a moment,
Sirius had transformed into the black dog, and he was bounding toward the Pettigrews’ house.
When he reached it, Sirius hid behind the neighbor’s wall, settling himself down in the shadows,
where, hopefully, Peter wouldn’t see him.

Sirius kept his ears pricked, his senses alert as he watched the street, ready for any sign of Peter.
He waited for what was probably a whole hour there, laying on the cold ground, hoping that no
Muggles would shoo him away before he could find his target. It was Peter’s scent that came to
him first, rather than the sight of him. Sirius’ chin was resting on his paws at that point, still alert
but losing hope that Peter would come at all, when he caught the familiar whiff of Peter’s scent on
the air. He jumped up, his skin prickling with adrenaline, and scanned his surroundings for the
man who’d been his friend, and who he now loathed with all his might.

After a moment, Peter appeared, walking down the stairs from his mother’s house, his hands in his
pockets. When he reached the street, he looked around, and Sirius could see anxiety written all
over his face. He felt a growl rise up in his throat, and moved further into the shadows of the
building, hiding himself from sight. After a moment, Peter seemed satisfied that he wasn’t being
watched, and set off with quick steps toward the main street.

Sirius watched him for a moment, allowing Peter to get a bit of a head start before he padded after
him on soft feet. He made sure to keep to the shadows as he stalked Peter, made sure that he was
always out of sight when Peter looked behind him, always on the edge of his vision. Still, Peter
looked behind him a bit too often for a man who believed himself to be alone, and Sirius suspected
that even though he hadn’t seen him, Peter could sense someone watching from the shadows.

After a few minutes, Sirius recognized the route and realized that Peter must be heading back
toward his flat in Bradford. A surge of anger rose up in him. It wasn’t just stupidity that made
Peter return to his home, it was also the fact that he knew he was safer than Sirius was, out on
these streets. Sirius was one person searching for Peter, but there were probably dozens searching
for Sirius right then. Sirius thought of the past few months, thought of all the people that had died,
and he knew that Peter had planned this, had engineered this outcome from the moment the spy in
the Order had been announced.

He remembered Emmeline’s words to Dumbledore in that Order meeting, when everything had
started to fall apart: “You’re going to make note of who gets hurt or dies, to see if you can find a
pattern so that you can figure out who the spy is.” Dumbledore had denied it, but they’d all known
it was true, and clearly, Peter had decided to use that information to his advantage. He’d known
that Sirius would be the one to figure him out in the end. He’d known that Sirius wouldn’t trust and
would be suspicious of everyone, so he’d taken steps to discredit him.

Sirius was the only one left standing out of his Order group—the only survivor. Peter had known
that it would make him look guilty, and now his plan was complete. No one would believe Sirius,
not with all the evidence stacked against him. Sirius’ love for Lily and James, for Marlene and
Dorcas: all this would be nothing compared to the overwhelming evidence of his guilt. He’d fallen
into the trap, and now he was doomed. Well, he’d make sure that he took Peter down with him.

Just before Peter turned onto the main street, Sirius disappeared into the shadows of a building,
quickly transforming back into his human form. He was done waiting. He pulled his wand out of
his pocket and concealed it in his sleeve, then turned back toward the street, ready to resume his
search. But Peter was gone. Sirius blinked, panic filling him as he looked all around the crowded
street, finding him nowhere. It’d only been a moment, how had he lost him? Sirius swore loudly,
making a few passers-by look at him in alarm, then he set off down the street in the direction that
Peter had been walking, searching frantically through the crowd for his blond head.

Finally, Sirius caught sight of Peter again, hurrying away from him down the street as fast as he
could go. He turned for a moment, and Sirius caught the flash of his blue eyes, the terror on his
face, and he knew that Peter had known all along that Sirius had been following him.

“Peter!” Sirius roared, not caring about the Muggles all around as he broke into a run after Peter,
gripping the handle of his wand tightly in his sleeve, his heart thumping an ominous beat in his
chest, demanding revenge just like the rest of him. “Face me, you coward!”

Peter was no match for Sirius in speed, and Sirius caught up with him after only moments, facing
him with his wand out. Peter backed away from him toward the street, his small eyes flitting
around, taking in the passers-by who were watching the exchange, fear on their faces. Sirius
ignored the Muggles; he was beyond caring about anyone or anything except for his revenge. He
advanced on Peter, his wand pointing at him.

“You killed them,” Sirius snarled, his voice low and angry as he advanced. “You were their friend,
and you sold them to Voldemort to die! You sold us all!” He realized that his voice was shaking
slightly but didn’t have time to examine if it was anger or hurt that made it do so. He pointed the
wand in Peter’s face, which was chalk white and full of terror, so exaggerated it looked almost
comical. “Do you have anything to say to me?”

“S—Sirius,” Peter stammered.

Sirius could see sweat beading on his brow, see him shaking. He savored the sight, glad that Peter
was scared at last, that he was seeing the other end of the pain he’d inflicted. But the words that
came out of Peter’s mouth next were far from the ones Sirius could ever have expected.

“Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?”

His voice was loud, and Sirius was so shocked by his words that he blinked for a second in
confusion, trying to understand. Had he been wrong? Had he miscalculated? Then, he saw Peter’s
hand twitch toward his wand, and felt the gazes of the dozens of Muggles on them, and in a
moment of terrible realization, Sirius understood what Peter was doing.

“How could you betray them, Sirius?” Peter asked again, tears streaming down his face now, his
voice still unnaturally high and hysterical, loud enough for the whole street to hear. “They were
your friends!”

A jet of white-hot anger seared through Sirius, and he lunged at Peter. “You—”

What happened next was a blur. Sirius only knew that as he lunged, his wand outstretched to curse
Peter, several things happened at once. Peter gasped, his face contorting in pain before Sirius had
even touched him, and Sirius saw a flash of red streak across his vision from somewhere, but it’d
disappeared before he could see where. The next thing Sirius knew, the street in front of him had
blown apart, the sound of an explosion going off deafening him. He fell in the direction that he’d
been lunging, and should’ve fallen on Peter, but all of a sudden, Peter wasn’t there, and all Sirius
could hear were screams.

Sirius managed to catch himself before his head hit the ground, but as he pushed himself up his
ears were ringing, and he raised his head, horrified, to see the carnage in front of him. The street,
which had been bustling with carefree shoppers only moments before, had been torn apart. There
was a crater in the middle of it all, deep enough that pipes of the sewer below were cracked, liquid
leaking from the deep fissures in them. There was blood everywhere, bodies laying in the crater
and around it, terrified people clutching one another as they wailed, trying to make sense of the
scene.

Sirius swayed on his feet, nausea rolling up in him as he looked on, then reality came back to him.
He looked down to where Peter had been, to where he’d fallen, and found…nothing. In the spot
where Peter had been standing, there was nothing but a pile of robes, bloodstained and dirty, and, a
little to the left, what was unmistakably a chunk of his index finger, cut off above the knuckle. The
flesh was ragged, and Sirius realized now why Peter had gasped in pain…he’d cut it off himself.
Frantically, Sirius scanned every which way, looking all around for signs of Peter. There was
nothing. He was gone.

Sirius stood there for a moment, taking in the scene, his mind still processing all that had
happened. Then, a sound bubbled up in his throat, broken and mad, forcing its way through his lips
and to the air: it was laughter. Sirius looked down at his hands, covered in dirt and dust from the
explosion, still holding his wand, and he laughed harder, the sound coming out crazed and quite
unlike his usual laugh. He looked back around at the street, toward the sewers, and spotted a group
of rats running frantically out of sight, no doubt startled by the commotion. He laughed louder still,
the sound coming out of him against his will, the sheer impossibility of what had happened making
him hysterical.

He couldn’t believe it, and for a moment, Sirius wondered again if it was a dream, but the screams
and wails of the Muggles surrounding him were all too real, the ringing in his ears all too present
for him to be fooled by this comfortable delusion of dreaming again. Lily and James were dead,
and Peter had managed to pin it all on Sirius, a feat that Sirius wouldn’t have believed him capable
of until that day. And yet it’d been smooth, as well-planned and executed as the best of the
Marauders’ pranks at Hogwarts.

Sirius laughed louder, feeling lightheaded and distant from himself, his laugh ringing in his ears as
if it was someone else’s. It was a joke. It was ridiculous, but it was real, and Sirius was the butt of
 it—the victim of a cruel prank, the hunted who’d thought that he was the hunter. His mind flitted
back to his fifth year at Hogwarts, to the day when he’d found Snape following him and sent the
Slytherin boy down the tunnel to the Whomping Willow toward Remus. He knew how that felt
now: to be in pursuit of something with righteous anger in his heart, only to realize that it’d been
him who’d been the fool all along. James had saved Snape that day, but there was no James to save
Sirius now. Peter had made sure of that.

Sirius didn’t stop laughing, not when the Ministry showed up, not when more than a dozen
members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad had their wands trained on him and he was led
away. He saw Moody in the crowd, his new magical eye fixed on Sirius along with the normal one,
his scarred face full of anger. Dearborn stood next to him, shock filling his gentler features,
watching Sirius in disbelief as though he’d never seen him before. Sirius was led past them both,
and as their eyes followed him, Sirius continued to laugh, unable to contain it at the knowledge that
Peter had fooled them all, too. It was the greatest and most terrible trick that any of them had ever
pulled off. Only a Marauder could’ve done it.

Chapter End Notes

Truly sobbed over this whole thing. My roommates had to spend hours listening to me
talk about it.

Fuck what's happening in the US. We're on a highway to hell—as if we weren't there
already, right?—and let me tell you, I am not enjoying the ride. At least I can take a
break from crying about real-life things to cry about fictional things. *sigh*
 1981: After the Fall
Chapter Notes

cw: graphic depictions of violence, vomiting

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Remus woke late on the morning of the first of November, opening his eyes to find that it was past
noon already. The light that shone in through the gaps in the curtains was cold and muted by the
clouds in the sky above, as well as by the persistent rain that had been falling nonstop for several
days now. Remus sat up slowly in bed, glancing over at the empty half of the bed that should’ve
held Sirius, a habit he’d developed over the course of the past week.

Remus had only returned back to their flat in London in the wee hours of the morning, exhausted
from his night of trying to get through to a group of werewolves up in Newcastle. He’d received a
message from Miranda the previous afternoon that they wanted to talk, to hear what Remus had to
say, even though at the moment they were leaning heavily toward Voldemort’s side. With
Miranda’s help, Remus had spent many long hours going back and forth with the pack, hearing
their concerns and offering his view of things when appropriate. He wasn’t sure that they were
convinced, but they had at least seemed a bit more on the fence by the time he’d left, and that was
something.

When Remus had collapsed into his and Sirius’ familiar bed at two o’clock that morning, he’d been
unaware of anything amiss. The Order of the Phoenix token he kept hidden below his shirt on a
chain around his neck had lain cool against his skin for hours, so Remus had had no reason to
believe that anything was wrong. Sometime that morning, Remus thought he might have heard a
rapping sound start up from the direction of the door and stop, then start again, and yet in his tired
haze, he’d only rolled over and covered his head with his pillow, falling back asleep.

When Remus rose midday, he checked the phoenix again—another force of habit—but the metal
on the back remained smooth and blank. He walked into the bathroom, yawning, and began to
brush his teeth, his mind going over the previous night’s mission as he did so. He’d probably want
to go back to talk to the group of werewolves again soon. Not that day, but perhaps the next day, or
the one after that. When Remus finished brushing his teeth and splashed his face with water, he felt
more awake and padded into the kitchen to make some tea.

The Daily Prophet lay innocently face down on the counter, no doubt left there by the delivery owl
that morning. Remus made a mental note to pay the bird double the following morning for
delivering the paper, as he went about adding cream and sugar to his Earl Grey tea. He leaned
against the counter as he sipped it, looking out toward the windows that showed him a view of the
London buildings surrounding the flat: solemn and grey, just like always.

Remus wondered where Sirius was now, and whether the persistent rain had reached him there,
too. He didn’t know when he’d next see him, as Sirius hadn’t told Remus his exact plans when
he’d left.

Remus had just returned to the flat from Coleridge Road one afternoon, a week ago, to find Sirius
with a rucksack packed, telling Remus that he was leaving. He was vague about the details of the
plan, but Remus knew enough from others to fill in the blanks of Sirius’ story. Sirius had been
made Secret Keeper by Lily and James, and now he was going on the run. For how long, Remus
didn’t know. Sirius didn’t tell Remus where he’d be, either, and Remus wasn’t sure if that was
because he didn’t trust him with the knowledge or because he didn’t yet know himself. These days,
Remus had adjusted to taking whatever scraps Sirius would give him, as terrible as that idea was to
him whenever he contemplated it.

So when Sirius had swung his bag over his shoulder and said goodbye, Remus had kissed him with
every bit of feeling he could muster up. He’d kissed Sirius in the way that he’d first kissed him in
their seventh year of Hogwarts, savoring this new thing he could do that felt like it wasn’t allowed,
like it was against every rule he’d made for himself for six years. He’d kissed Sirius with disbelief,
with awe, with frustration and love and anger and everything he could put into one kiss. When
they’d parted, Sirius had stumbled slightly as they stepped away from each other, and when he
opened his eyes to look at Remus, there was unbearable sadness in his gaze.

“I love you,” Remus had told him, hoping beyond hope that this wouldn’t be the last time he’d get
to say it to the other man.

Sirius had nodded, shifting the strap of his rucksack on his shoulder and looking away from Remus
for a moment, then back up at him.

“I love you, too,” he’d replied, and for a moment, Remus thought he’d seen something in Sirius’
grey eyes that had been missing from them for months: surety.

Sirius met his gaze fiercely, and Remus had almost wanted to cry, seeing that look that he loved so
much in Sirius’ eyes—the look of a fighter.

“I’ll come back,” Sirius had said, after a long moment of silent eye contact. “I’ll—I’ll explain
everything. Just give me time.”

Remus had nodded, and then Sirius had pulled him back in for another, shorter kiss before he’d
headed out the door.

Remus had thought of that moment so many times in the past week since it’d happened, and
despite everything, it’d made him more hopeful than he’d felt in a long time. As he stood looking
out of the rain-flecked windows of their flat, he wished that Sirius was there. He wished that Sirius
would come back now, that he’d explain everything, that he’d apologize so Remus could forgive
him and they could go back to loving each other as they’d done when they’d been just kids, in
those early days when being close had been the only perfect thing in their lives.

Remus shook his head at his own romantic, foolish ideas, and strode over toward the counter where
the Daily Prophet still lay. He flipped it over, scanning the front page, and felt his heart skip a
beat. He placed his tea down on the counter, making some of the liquid inside slosh over the rim
with his haste, and quickly unfolded the newspaper. The top headline read: YOU-KNOW-WHO
FINISHED?

Remus scanned the article below the headline with excited haste, certain phrases popping out at
him as he did so: witches and wizards all over the country come to their senses after months under
the Imperious Curse…Dark Creatures retreat back into hiding without warning…well-known
Death Eaters plead innocence and ignorance…Death Eater organization falls into disarray with
no apparent leader…Barty Crouch cracks down on captured Death Eaters…Minister Bagnold
promises answers to the magical community in the coming days, emphasizing that in the meantime,
“this is a time for celebration and thanks.”

Remus looked up from the Prophet, his heart pounding, a giddy smile forming on his lips. He
looked back down at the headline, almost unable to believe his eyes. The war was over?
Voldemort was finished? What had happened in the past twenty-four hours to turn the wizarding
world’s hopelessness into joy?

Remus hardly even cared about the details at the moment as he hurried around the counter toward
the sitting room, searching for a piece of paper and a quill he could use to write a letter to Sirius.
Sirius could come back now if they were safe. He could come out of hiding, and so could Lily and
James, and all the rest of the Order of the Phoenix. They could stop fearing that they’d wake up
each morning to hear that another person was dead, that they’d be called in the middle of the night
to fight another battle. They’d never be the same, of course, would never be able to bring back the
people that they’d lost, but they could start repairing things…start thinking of the future. Harry
would grow up happy and safe, unburdened by the prophecy.

Just as Remus sat down and started to scribble a letter to Sirius, his handwriting barely legible due
to his excitement, he heard the flap of wings from the direction of the window and looked up to see
an unfamiliar barn owl soar through it, landing on the coffee table in front of him. The owl ruffled
its feathers importantly, showering the beginning of Remus’ note with droplets of water, and stuck
out its leg for Remus to retrieve the letter attached to it. Remus’ brows furrowed but he detached
the letter carefully from the owl’s leg, and it took off again immediately, flying out of the open
window and disappearing into the London sky.

Remus examined the letter in his hands, recognizing Dumbledore’s loopy handwriting on the front,
spelling out his name. The barn owl must’ve been a Hogwarts school owl, then. Confused, Remus
flipped the letter over and broke the seal, then pulled out the sheet of parchment inside, beginning
to read.

Dear Remus,

It is with a heavy heart that I must relay this news to you today. I do not know what you have heard
up to this point. I am aware that many rumors are circulating even as I write, all concerning the
events of the last twenty-four hours, but I believe that you deserve the whole truth, or at least as
much of it as I know, rather than the confused whispers of the masses.

Late last night, Lord Voldemort arrived at the house where Lily, James, and Harry were hiding in
Godric’s Hollow, murdering Lily and James and attempting to kill Harry. Harry survived, and he
is in the process of being moved to his aunt and uncle’s home for his protection. I am not confident
in the reasons behind Voldemort’s inability to kill Harry, but it seems that Voldemort was stripped
of his powers in the attempt. This much seems clear from the tales of Imperious Curse victims
coming back to themselves, as well as the Death Eaters’ loss of control over their magical allies
such as the giants and Dementors.

I do not know how much of the plan was relayed to you by Lily and James, so it is my sad duty to
inform you, if you did not already know this, that Lily, James, and Harry’s whereabouts were
protected by the Fidelius Charm, with Sirius as their Secret Keeper. This leads me to the
unfortunate conclusion that Sirius voluntarily told Lord Voldemort the secret of their location, thus
breaking the charm and allowing him to carry out his plan to murder Harry.

A little more than an hour ago, Sirius was captured on the streets of Bradford. It was not the
Ministry of Magic who found him, however, but your friend Peter Pettigrew, who, upon learning
about the events in Godric’s Hollow, set out to track him down and make him answer for his
crimes. I am deeply grieved to have to relay to you that although Sirius was captured, it was not
before he killed Peter, along with a dozen Muggles who happened to be on the street with them, by
way of a blasting curse. Along with the rest of the Order of the Phoenix, I was shocked to discover
Sirius’ true allegiances, and only wish I could have discovered his identity as the spy sooner, so as
to prevent all of this from happening. I am truly sorry.

Yours most sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

When Remus finished reading the letter, he stared at it uncomprehendingly, the words blurring out
of and back into focus the more he looked. A layer of ice seemed to be forming over Remus’ body,
starting from his feet and spreading slowly upward, over his legs and torso, up toward his heart.
The parchment slipped from his numb fingers, and Remus let it go, staring at it as it drifted to lay
face down on the coffee table. All his joy from just a few minutes ago was gone now, the smile
wiped off his face with the contents of the letter. Remus felt the ice move over his shoulders, up
his neck, until it encased him completely.

Lily, James, and Peter were all dead. Remus couldn’t process it, couldn’t make his mind hold the
idea with any kind of credibility attached to it. It drifted in and out of his brain—a fanciful notion.
He looked down at the note beside Dumbledore’s, holding only a few words on it, which Remus
had written in his earlier, precious moment of ignorant excitement before everything had fallen
apart. The fragment read: Sirius - Have you heard the news?

A laugh bubbled up from Remus’ throat, cut off quickly to be replaced by a dry sob. He leaned
forward and buried his head in his hands, trying to think, to make sense of any part of
Dumbledore’s letter. He scrubbed his hands vigorously over his face, then sat up, shaking his head
and getting to his feet. None of this was true—none of it could be true. Lily and James couldn’t be
dead, because if they were dead then it would mean that Sirius was the spy, and he couldn’t be the
spy. Peter wouldn’t have tracked Sirius to Bradford, because why would Sirius have been in
Bradford in the first place? Therefore, Peter couldn’t be dead, either. He’d go to see Dumbledore.
Dumbledore would explain. Remus would make him see that he was wrong, that he’d interpreted
everything incorrectly.

He hurried toward the front door, then realized he was still in his pajamas and raced back toward
the bedroom to throw on a pair of trousers and a jumper. Once dressed, Remus raced back to the
hall, pulling on boots and a jacket at the same time and stumbling as he reached for the doorknob.
In a moment, he’d righted himself and was out the door, and, after a quick glance up and down the
hall, he disapparated.

Moments later, Remus landed, out of breath, outside the gates of Hogwarts. Only then did he
realize that he didn’t have a plan for how to get in, and that school was actually in session,
meaning that even if he somehow found his way onto the grounds, Remus would have to deal with
the obstacles of students and teachers alike in his quest to see the headmaster. He reached toward
the gates and shook them experimentally, but they didn’t open. Remus swore loudly and pulled out
his wand to cast a Patronus, but before he could, a calm voice spoke behind him.

“Remus.”

Remus swore again, spinning on the spot and nearly falling over before raising his wand to meet
the person who’d startled him. Dumbledore stood on the road to Hogsmeade station, his hands
clasped behind his back as he gazed calmly at Remus, clearly unfazed by the younger wizard’s
raised wand.

“Professor Dumbledore,” Remus said, his pounding heart calming slightly. He lowered his wand
and glanced up to the castle, then back at Dumbledore, confusion momentarily replacing his panic.
“What are you doing down here?”
“I thought that you might come,” Dumbledore replied. “I have some business in the village,
regardless. Shall we walk?”

Remus nodded, his mouth suddenly feeling dry as chalk, and fell into step beside Dumbledore as
he started his slow pace down the hill toward Hogsmeade. He wondered if there was a reason
Dumbledore didn’t want him on the grounds; perhaps there were enough rumors among the
students for Dumbledore to want to inspire more by the sudden appearance of a former student in
their midst. Remus pushed the thought of the rumors circulating aside and opened his mouth to
speak.

“I presume,” Dumbledore said, cutting Remus off before he could utter a word, “that you have
come to tell me that I must be mistaken about the events of the last twenty-four hours. That I must
have been misled or hoodwinked in some way.”

“Uh,” Remus said, caught off guard, as that had been exactly what he was going to say. “Well,
yes.”

“I fully understand why you would not want to accept the facts that I relayed to you in my letter as
truth,” Dumbledore said, his tone full of sympathy. “And I would hope that you understand that I
do not wish them to be true any more than you do.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible,” Remus replied without thinking, a bitter note in his voice. He
immediately regretted it, but when he glanced over at Dumbledore to see his reaction, the old man
looked as calm as ever.

“Of course, I cannot claim the deep personal friendship that you had with any of the people
involved,” Dumbledore conceded. “I apologize. I did not mean to assert that my grief could equal
yours.”

A surge of anguish went through Remus at the word “grief,” but he pushed it aside quickly. It’s not
true, he insisted to himself. It’s not. He felt Dumbledore’s blue gaze on him and looked up to find
the headmaster examining him.

“Please,” Dumbledore said, raising his eyebrows and moving his hand as if to invite Remus to go
on. “Say what you came to say, Remus. I am more than willing to answer any inquiries that you
have.”

“Professor Dumbledore, I’m sure that you have excellent sources and everything. I don’t mean to
discount your judgment when I say this,” Remus started, knowing foolishly that he was saying
exactly what Dumbledore had anticipated and prepared himself for. “But what you told me in the
letter—it can’t be true. It can’t have happened that way. It’s just not possible.”

Dumbledore inclined his head to Remus, allowing him to go on. “Why can’t it be true?” he asked,
and despite the fact that Remus guessed that Dumbledore was only humoring him, he plowed on.

“Because Sirius would’ve never done any of it!” Remus burst out. “Professor Dumbledore, you
knew us in school, so you must know that Sirius couldn’t have done any of it. James and Sirius,
well, they were best friends. They were nearly brothers. From our first year at school, they were
inseparable, and after Sirius ran away from home, James took him in. James’ parents treated Sirius
like a son. Sirius loved them all. They were like his family. He loved Harry, too. And the rest of us,
too, we were his family. Lily and Peter, Marlene and Dorcas…all of us. He’d never have given us
up. He’d never have sold Lily and James to Voldemort. He’d never have killed Peter. That’s why
none of it could’ve happened. It’s—it’s just not possible.”
Dumbledore listened quietly as Remus rattled on and allowed the silence to stretch for a moment
after Remus finished, as if he was considering his words. Remus glanced desperately over at him
and saw a pensive look on his face. Remus tried to search his brain for something more to say to
make Dumbledore understand, to convince him.

“I know that it can be extremely painful to believe that someone you love is capable of such evil,”
Dumbledore said after a moment.

Remus stilled, glancing at Dumbledore quickly to see if he meant what Remus thought he meant.
Dumbledore wasn’t looking at him, his gaze still fixed straight ahead at the road.

“I cannot pretend that I understand why Sirius chose to do what he did, but I must ask you, Remus,
to listen to me when I tell you how I know that it is the truth of the matter.”

He held up a hand, as Remus had been on the verge of interrupting him, of protesting again.

“Remus, I have seen with my own eyes the ruin of the Potters’ house in Godric’s Hollow,” he said,
shaking his head sadly. “It was torn apart by dark magic, and before setting foot inside the ruins, I
knew that it was Voldemort’s doing. I laid my own eyes upon Lily’s and James’ bodies, too, I am
sorry to say. They were both struck down by killing curses, their deaths occurring no more than
minutes after Voldemort arrived. We trusted in the Fidelius Charm to keep them safe, and
unfortunately, once that broke, there was no defense left. Do you understand?”

Remus felt the ice around his heart grip tighter, a jolt of pain going through him as his mind
conjured the images held in Dumbledore’s words. Lily and James…dead with no warning, no
chance to flee or hope of a fight, no time to call for help and have anyone answer. Remus’ jaw
clenched, and he fought the grief inside of him angrily, trying to deny it still.

“I spoke to Lily and James the morning that the Fidelius Charm was cast,” Dumbledore said
heavily. “They were adamant about using Sirius as their Secret Keeper. Four hours later, I received
their message that the charm had been cast. I see no possible explanation other than that Sirius was
their Secret Keeper unless you have any insight that would suggest otherwise.”

Remus looked up at Dumbledore to find his light blue eyes fixed on him. The gaze wasn’t unkind
or patronizing; it was genuine. Dumbledore was really asking him for this, asking Remus to give
any other explanation, because perhaps he didn’t want to believe it, either. Slowly, with dread
settling heavy into his stomach, Remus shook his head.

“I—I don’t have any,” he admitted. “When Sirius left to go into hiding last week, he didn’t tell me
that he was their Secret Keeper, but I assumed that he was because I’d heard the plan from Lily
and James before then.”

Dumbledore nodded, looking back at the road. “Unfortunately, if Sirius truly was the Secret
Keeper, there is no other possible explanation for the events that came after other than that he
voluntarily gave them up,” he said. “The Fidelius Charm cannot be broken by any means other
than the Secret Keeper’s death, at which time everyone they ever told the secret to would then
become a Secret Keeper in turn. Furthermore, the secret must be given up voluntarily, not under
torture, nor any bewitchment or potion to elicit such a confession.”

Remus hesitated for a moment, a million thoughts rushing through his head, each explanation less
likely than the last. Finally, he glanced over at Dumbledore and asked the question he’d been
dreading. “Can you tell me what happened to Peter?”

Dumbledore let the silence between them stretch for a moment, then sighed. “It was a terrible
thing,” he said. “It shocked even the strongest among us, especially those of us who knew them
both.”

Remus waited, a slight feeling of nausea threatening to grow in his throat. No doubt he’d read
about it in the paper the next day. Still, he needed to know now.

Dumbledore stopped in the road, turning to Remus to look him full in the face.

“At around ten this morning, Peter and Sirius were both sighted on a busy street in Bradford. When
they faced one another, it seemed that Peter had tracked Sirius there to make him answer for what
had happened. The surviving Muggle eyewitnesses said that their disagreement was loud and that
Peter shouted at Sirius, demanding to know how he could have betrayed Lily and James.”

There was a long pause, where Dumbledore’s eyes flitted away from Remus, out toward the hills
beyond, then he sighed.

“What happened next, I believe, happened very quickly. Given the trauma and confusion
surrounding the event, we cannot be sure of the exact timeline, but some witnesses believe that
Sirius lunged for Peter, and moments later, a blasting charm of incredible magnitude destroyed half
of the block where they were standing. When the dust cleared, well…there was almost nothing left
of Peter to recover. Twelve Muggles were killed, too, along with many more who were injured.”

Nausea rolled over Remus, and, before he could stop himself, he bent over and vomited on the
grass in front of him. As he hadn’t eaten in more than twelve hours, it was mostly bile that came
up, burning his throat. He coughed, heaving, and straightened as soon as he was confident that he
wouldn’t hurl again. His head swam, and Dumbledore, a look of concern on his lined face, quickly
vanished the vomit from the ground. He reached out a hand toward Remus’ shoulder, but Remus
flinched back, and Dumbledore let the hand fall to his side again.

“What did Sirius do?” Remus demanded, looking around at anything other than Dumbledore’s
face, wiping his sleeve across his lips and taking deep, steadying breaths. “Did he try to escape?”

“No,” Dumbledore replied, his tone cautious, as if he wasn’t sure whether it was wise to continue
to relay the story to Remus. “He did not try to leave. He was still at the scene when the Ministry
arrived, minutes later.”

“And?” Remus asked, looking back at Dumbledore finally as he tried to push the images that
Dumbledore was conjuring of the scene out of his head, tried not to think about Peter, torn into
pieces, with nothing left to bury.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at Remus, looking a little confused, and Remus plowed on,
frustrated. “If he didn’t try to escape, what did he do?”

Dumbledore sighed and closed his eyes, as if he wished to escape Remus’ demanding gaze for a
moment, before opening them again and responding.

“From what Alastor and Caradoc told me, as soon as they left the scene,” Dumbledore began,
sounding reluctant, “all Sirius did from the point of the explosion onward was laugh. He did not
move from the place he’d been standing, did not drop his wand or try to move, not even when the
Magical Law Enforcement Squad arrived. When they led him away, he did not struggle, but he
continued to laugh all the way to the Ministry.”

Something in Remus’ stomach dropped, the last piece of resistance falling away as he tried to take
in what Dumbledore had told him, tried to reconcile this terrible picture with the Sirius he’d
thought he’d known…with the Sirius who’d kissed Remus the day he’d left, who’d promised
Remus that he’d return, that he’d explain everything. He knew now why Dumbledore had been so
certain that Sirius was guilty. Even if there had been doubt after Lily’s and James’ deaths, the tale
of Sirius’ laughter would be enough to wipe it from anyone’s mind. No one would ever believe that
the man who’d stood in front of the scene of a massacre with his wand out, laughing, was innocent.

Remus shook his head once, then again, just as tears began to fill his eyes for the first time that
day. “I don’t—I don’t understand,” he said, his voice cracking. “How could he—how could he
have done it?”

“I do not know, Remus,” Dumbledore said gently. “I wish that I had an explanation. I wish that
there was some sense that could be made of these tragic events, but it seems that there is none.”

“Sirius, is he—” Remus began, wiping his eyes, trying hard not to cry in front of Dumbledore.
“He’s in Azkaban, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Dumbledore said. “I am afraid he will be there for the rest of his life.”

A jolt of pain tore through Remus’ stomach again as he thought of Sirius in a cold cell in the
middle of the North Sea, trapped, alone, and surrounded by Dementors. Trapped, Remus thought, a
panicked feeling going through him. Remus remembered the look that Sirius had always gotten
before he’d had to return to his parents’ house in their first five years at Hogwarts because of the
way that it’d suffocated him. Remus tried to shake it away—that concern for Sirius that had been
an instinct to him for half of his life. Sirius was in jail because he’d done something terrible. Remus
shouldn’t feel sorry for him now. He shouldn’t care.

Remus realized that Dumbledore was looking at him with deep concern in his light blue eyes, and
an uncomfortable feeling crawled over his skin at the sight of it. He wasn’t sure, but he was getting
the definite impression that Dumbledore knew what Remus and Sirius were to one another…or
what they’d been. It wasn’t like they’d been truly hiding it with the Order, but somehow, it still
always made him uncomfortable when he realized that someone had figured it out without him
telling them.

“He won’t get a trial?” Remus asked, trying to break the look that Dumbledore was giving him.

Dumbledore sighed, shaking his head. “Barty Crouch Sr. has insisted that one is not needed,” he
said. “And while I do not support the practice of forgoing a trial in general, I must admit that I do
not believe that it would make much difference, in Sirius’ case, given the evidence against him.”

Remus swallowed a bitter taste in his mouth, knowing that he had no power whatsoever to change
the Ministry’s mind, even if he wanted to. He looked down at the ground and nudged a rock with
his shoe, his jaw clenching. He had no power at all. Perhaps he never would. It was with
resignation that Remus asked the next question, already knowing what the answer would be.

“Where’s Harry?” he asked, looking up at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore stared at him silently for a moment, then shook his head. “I cannot tell you, Remus,”
he said. “I can only say that he is safe. As I said in my letter, he is being moved to live with his
aunt and uncle.”

“Lily’s sister?” Remus confirmed, the heavy weight of dread in his stomach only getting heavier.

Dumbledore nodded. “He will be safe there,” Dumbledore said, his voice full of a surety that
Remus knew wouldn’t yield to any objections.
“You’re really so sure about that?” Remus asked, not even bothering to push the note of bitterness
out of his voice. “I heard stories from Lily about her older sister ever since she got to Hogwarts.
She hates everything magical, you know, and she hated Lily.”

“I am sure that the ties between them were not so easily severed,” Dumbledore said, and Remus
snorted in disbelief, looking away from the old man and shaking his head.

What did Dumbledore know? Was he really so confident in blood ties over all else? Was that why
he dismissed Sirius’ ties to the Potters so easily? Did he think that Sirius had gone back to his old
family’s way of thinking? The image of Sirius laughing in front of a dozen limp bodies flashed in
front of Remus’ vision again, as if to punish him for his thoughts, and Remus fought the urge to
scream.

“Lily and James would’ve wanted us in Harry’s life if they died,” he insisted, trying to keep his
tone civil. “They named Mary Macdonald Harry’s godmother— she should raise him.”

“They also named Sirius Black his godfather,” Dumbledore replied smoothly, his tone hard and
unyielding now, though his expression remained mild. “Do you think that I should arrange for
Harry to go on weekend trips to Azkaban so that their wishes can be carried out?”

Remus took a deep breath, resisting the urge to tell Dumbledore to go fuck himself, and let it out
slowly. “Mary isn’t Sirius,” he said after a moment, once he trusted his voice again. “And neither
am I. You’ve got to let us help raise him. You’ve got to let us see him. He needs us. He needs to
grow up hearing about his parents, knowing that they loved him. We can take care of him in the
way that James and Lily would’ve wanted.”

“I am sorry, Remus,” Dumbledore said, and for a moment, Remus felt that Dumbledore wasn’t
sorry at all, as the glint in his eye spoke nothing of sympathy and regret now, only of authority. “I
cannot allow anyone from the magical world to know Harry’s location. It is simply a matter of
safety. You must understand.”

“Safety?” Remus scoffed. “Voldemort’s gone! And why on earth would he be safer with Muggles
than with us?”

“Many of Voldemort’s most dangerous supporters are still at large,” Dumbledore replied. “And
forgive me for saying it, but Harry has already been harmed once by his parents’ choice of who to
trust. I will not allow it to happen a second time.”

“How dare you—” Remus started, his eyes blazing now, failing to hold off his anger.

Dumbledore held up a hand to stop him, and there was a cold finality in his expression now. “I am
sorry,” he repeated. “But that is my final word on the matter, Remus.”

Remus stared at the headmaster, shock unfurling through him. Dumbledore was really going to do
this. He’d really keep all of them from being there for Harry, from even saying goodbye to him.
This was the man that Remus had idolized for many years of his life, had held so much gratitude
and trust for because he’d had the compassion to let Remus go to school when no one else would.
Where was that compassion, now? Remus swallowed a lump in his throat and shook his head.

“How can you do this?” he asked, his voice hollow.

Dumbledore looked at him impassively. “I do what I must,” he replied simply.

Dumbledore turned back toward the village, walking on and leaving Remus standing still in his
wake, horror and grief crashing over him in wave after terrible wave.
 ....

Remus didn’t apparate away from the outskirts of the Hogwarts grounds immediately that day, but
wandered around aimlessly in a haze, trying to make heads or tails of what had happened, what
would happen, and what he was going to do now. Every so often, he’d look up at the castle on the
hill and lose his bearings on reality completely, believing that he was a teenager again for a
moment before regaining sense.

The familiar landmarks should’ve been comforting, but they’d turned against Remus instead,
becoming nightmare versions of their old selves. The Whomping Willow stood still in the distance,
a thing from another time, standing there to guard his secret. The Shrieking Shack was silhouetted
against the sky above him, a silent reminder of the shame Remus had worked so hard to keep
concealed for so many years, which James, Sirius, and Peter had helped him partially pull free of,
even if he never could do it fully. Now, they were all gone in their own ways, and it was like the
tree and the Shack were welcoming Remus back, telling him that this was how it would be for him
again when there was no one to remind him that he was human, no one to keep him in control
when he couldn’t do it for himself.

After hours of wandering, Remus’ sense started to come back to him. He grew aware of the pangs
of hunger in his stomach, though just the thought of food made his nausea return. With his mind
slightly clearer than before, however, he decided that he was safe to apparate again. If he’d tried
before, Remus was sure that he would’ve splinched himself. Still, where would he go? He recoiled
at the thought of going back to his and Sirius’ flat, which he guessed would turn nightmarish and
haunt him just as the Hogwarts grounds were doing now.

Remus took a deep breath in, let it out, then took another, and made up his mind. He turned on the
spot, searching his way through the compressing darkness, then landed, eyes still closed, feeling
the air return to his lungs as he breathed in the familiar scent of home. He opened his eyes after a
few deep breaths and took in the sight of the little house surrounded by the Welsh hills, the garden
out front still full of his mam’s old perennials. Remus felt tears fill his eyes as he put a hand on the
gate to steady himself, looking at the cottage. He hadn’t been back here since his mother’s funeral,
but he knew that this was where he needed to be, now, despite the fact that it added another burden
to his already overwhelming grief.

Remus stood there for a moment, looking at the house, then opened the gate and stepped inside,
walking up the path toward the front door. When he reached it, he hesitated for a moment, his
hands fidgeting slightly on the hem of his sweater. Then, he raised a fist and knocked.

It took a few moments for the door to open, wherein he heard the sound of his father’s footsteps
approaching it slowly, no doubt suspicious as to who it was and readying himself with his wand in
case of a threat. Remus’ prediction was proved correct as the door opened and he took in the sight
of his father, wand raised in his hand, back straight as he peered out at Remus, the set of his jaw
speaking of proud defiance. It only took a moment for his expression to fall, for him to drop his
wand, and for his face to fill with concern.

“Remus?” Lyall asked, his voice slightly croaky as if he hadn’t used it for weeks, which Remus
knew was possible. His blue eyes, so like Remus’ own, searched his son’s face. “What’s
happened? What’s wrong?”

Remus tried to speak, tried to manage some coherent answer, an explanation that would allow him
to come inside but which wouldn’t make him feel more vulnerable than he already did, but the
words died in his throat. Instead, he felt the resistance inside of him break apart, and by the look of
alarm on Lyall’s worn face, he saw it too, before he stepped forward and pulled Remus into a hug,
 supporting him so he wouldn’t fall.

Remus allowed it—allowed his father to hold him as he hadn’t done in almost two years. He broke,
and then tears were streaming down his face into his father’s shoulder, onto his shirt, and
somehow, though Remus was now taller than Lyall, he was being held like a child to his father’s
chest, and Lyall was rubbing his hand comfortingly over Remus’ back as he sobbed uncontrollably.

Lyall guided them back inside, still holding Remus as he closed the door behind him. Then, Lyall
pulled back from his son and took his face in his hands, looking urgently into his eyes.

“Remus, what is it?” he asked, with the tone of a man who was used to a crisis. “You have to tell
me what’s happened, please, son. Tell me what I can do.”

Remus shook his head, feeling his knees go weak under him as he lowered himself to the ground.
Lyall followed him, allowing Remus to curl with his back against the wall, arms around his knees.

“Nothing,” Remus panted out, his breath coming in short gasps, his sobs making the word blurred
and hard to understand. “Too late.”

His whole body shook, and Lyall put a hand on his shoulder as if to steady him.

“What happened?” Lyall asked again. “I saw in the Prophet that Voldemort is gone. Did someone
—”

“They’re gone,” Remus sobbed, shaking his head. “All gone. I can’t—I couldn’t—”

“Your friends?” Lyall asked, obviously trying to make sense of the words that were coming out of
his son’s mouth. “Are they…did they die?”

Remus began to register black spots in his sightline from the lack of oxygen brought on by his
panic attack, but he couldn’t calm his breathing. He thought of Sirius, of him killing Peter, of all
those Muggles, of his laughter as Ministry wizards took him off to Azkaban.

“All gone,” Remus mumbled again, then the black spots multiplied in his vision, and he passed
out.

Chapter End Notes

Yeah…I’m sorry. There’s no real way to do this that isn’t brutal. Poor Remus. Fuck.

*spoilers for Stranger Things Season 4 volume 2*

Unrelated angst, but I’ve just finally watched all of season 4 of Stranger Things and
I’m so sad. Eddie Munson is such a Sirius Black variant and Jesus F. Christ why do all
those types of characters have to die?? I would appreciate it for once if my faves
weren’t killed off (yes, I am aware of the irony of me saying this while writing this
fanfiction). And for what??? ugh
 1981: All the Lonely People
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

“It had never occurred to me that our lives, which had been so closely interwoven, could unravel
with such speed. If I’d known, maybe I’d have kept tighter hold of them, and not let unseen tides
pull us apart.” - Never Let Me Go, Kazuo Ishiguro

The day that Mary had found out about Lily’s and James’ deaths was the worst of her life. It’d been
worse than waking up the morning after her father had walked out on them, worse than the day that
she’d been attacked by the group of Slytherin boys in her fifth year at Hogwarts. Even after finding
out about Marlene’s and Dorcas’ deaths, Mary had somehow pulled herself through those days.
She’d found a way to keep going, a way to stop crying and see her future after all of those events.
There was none of that now.

The news of their deaths hadn’t come to the rest of the Order of the Phoenix all at once. The
phoenixes the organization had used to send messages had stayed still and cold against each
member’s skin, their lines of communication severed after the fall of Voldemort. There were no
more attacks to respond to, no more battles to fight. Dumbledore didn’t need them anymore. It was
just silence, and yet, many of them still knew that something terrible had happened.

Mary’s first indication that something had gone wrong had come on the morning of the first of
November. She was woken earlier than usual by a sound outside the window of her flat, and when
she sat up in bed and pulled her curtains aside, bleary-eyed, she found that there were shooting stars
cascading outside her window, leaving silvery tracks in their wake. She leapt out of bed
immediately, throwing open her window, and stuck her head out. The stars had disappeared, but
she could hear someone whooping in the distance.

“Hello?” Mary called out, trying to place the familiar voice she heard below.

The street fell silent for a moment, then a figure appeared at the end of her block, squinting up at
her. Mary thought she recognized the figure of one of her coworkers.

“Macdonald!” he called up to her, his Scottish accent thick with excitement. “Did ya hear the
news?”

“What news?” Mary hissed back, trying to keep her voice as quiet as she could. “Why are you
firing around shooting stars, Henry? This is an ordinary street!” She held herself back from saying
the word ‘Muggle,’ though she was hoping that no one within earshot would be awake this early on
a Sunday morning anyway.

“Forget abou’ that,” Henry said, waving an airy hand to dismiss her concerns. “You-Know-Who’s
gone, Macdonald! Saw it in the Prophet this mornin’. The war’s finally over!” He let out another
loud whoop, and, before Mary could tell him to come back and explain himself, or scold him
further, he darted around the corner and out of sight.

Mary’s heart began to beat fast, and she hurried toward her sitting room, desperate for any news
she might find there. The Daily Prophet sat innocently on the counter as usual, and Mary grabbed
it immediately, scanning the front page.
The news of the day rolled over her: people coming out of trances, Death Eaters renouncing
Voldemort, and Aurors capturing scores of dark wizards left and right. Mary scanned the front page
quickly before flipping through the rest of the paper, not allowing herself to celebrate as she
searched for any clue as to the reason things had changed so quickly. There was nothing. It was a
hollow silence, a gap in information which Mary knew from her years fighting this war could only
mean one thing: whatever had happened was being kept quiet for the time being.

Cold dread trickled through Mary’s veins, the source yet unknown. She hurried back into her
bedroom to throw on some clothes and to whip her now ginger locks into a quick bun before she
departed. She didn’t know where she might find answers, but she had to try. Mary knew deep in her
bones that this must have a catch. With the good news, Mary dreaded the bad. Something had
happened.

Mary considered going to Godric’s Hollow first but decided against it. She hadn’t yet had the
chance to speak to Sirius since the Fidelius Charm had been cast, after all, and without him sharing
the secret with her, she figured a trip there would be pointless. Instead, Mary apparated to Hestia
and Emmeline’s flat.

Unfortunately, her two friends had no more information than Mary did, though they, too, had heard
the news of Voldemort’s downfall. They debated together for a while on who to ask, where to go
for answers: the Ministry, Hogwarts, or perhaps the home of another Order member? Someone had
to know something, didn’t they? Eventually, they decided to split up in their search, Emmeline
heading to the Ministry while Hestia and Mary resolved to contact other Order members for news.

After knocking on Remus’ door for a few minutes and receiving no answer, Mary headed over to
Frank and Alice’s flat but was only met with the same confused looks and disappointed shakes of
their heads. It was only then that she paid Godric’s Hollow a visit. Mary hoped against hope that
she wouldn’t find anything there, hoped that the continued apparent absence of Lily and James’
house would assuage her worries. Instead, she’d found the ruins, surrounded by a curious crowd of
onlookers.

Mary knew what had happened as soon as she saw the house, and the mutters of the surrounding
wizards only confirmed it. As her heart sunk into her stomach and a dull ringing filled her ears,
Mary stood frozen, staring at the place, her own voice echoing in her mind, saying, over and over:
I’ve lost everything.

That had been where Emmeline and Hestia found her, both having discovered the truth in their own
ways. Emmeline had convinced an Auror in the Ministry to reveal what had happened to her, while
Hestia had heard it from Dorcas’ mother and father, who she’d visited after all the other Order
members she’d managed to reach had known nothing. Neither, it seemed, had believed the story,
and so they’d both rushed to Godric’s Hollow to get confirmation. There, they found Mary,
swaying on the spot, her light brown eyes full of tears as she stared at the ruins in disbelief, in
horror.

In the week since, Mary had fallen apart and tried to put herself back together every day, only to
break again. She did this without uttering a single word, just crashing silently into grief and despair
and out again. She felt disjointed, lost in her pain, unable to make sense of anything or find the will
to do daily tasks like washing or feeding herself. Mary thought she understood more now how
Dorcas had felt after Marlene had died, as if the kind of grief she’d experienced before was a trial
run to prepare her for this. This was complete; it was absolute.

Lily was gone. Lily, her best friend, the person her heart had latched onto and grown around for the
past five years…she’d never return. Mary thought she’d known that this moment would come, and
yet knowing hadn’t made it any easier. Hestia and Emmeline, who were both grieving in their own
rights, had still taken it upon themselves to take care of her. Mary’s mother visited often, too, more
than Mary knew she had time to, but Mary didn’t have it within herself to protest.

On the day of the funeral, Mary had allowed her friends to coax her into taking a shower, then
allowed Hestia to comb out her long hair. She’d allowed them to feed her, allowed Hestia to pick
out a dress for her to wear, and Emmeline to side-along apparate with her to the churchyard in
Godric’s Hollow. Hestia kept her arm around Mary for the whole service, Emmeline standing
protectively on her other side. Mary felt raw as she listened to the words, felt strange as she walked
out of the little church toward the grave, the two coffins floating ahead of her. She was shaking, but
not from the cold. Her nerves were on edge, her pain too much to bear, her small body not able to
hold in the force of it. It seemed as if a hurricane was tearing through her, trying to rip her free
from the silence and the numbness, much as she tried to push back against it.

When the coffins were lowered into the ground, when they were covered in earth, Mary started to
shake more than ever. Hestia tightened her arm around her as if she could exert enough force to
hold Mary together, and tears began to stream down Mary’s face. Across the grave, she could see
Remus’ blurred figure through her tears, his father’s arm around him, his head bowed. Mary closed
her eyes and tried to control the shaking, but she couldn’t.

“Mary,” Hestia spoke quietly to her after a while, and Mary knew that the others must be gone, the
graveside deserted except for them. “Is there anything I can do?” Her voice was filled with tears, as
raw with grief as Mary felt.

Mary tightened her muscles long enough to make a short jerk of her head from side to side, which
was as much as she could manage. She opened her eyes and found that she was right: most of the
mourners had trailed away. She sunk to her knees in the grass beside the grave, her hand going to
the ground to steady her. Her shaking didn’t stop, nor did her tears, and her breath came in rapid
pants. Hestia followed her to the ground, her hand rubbing circles on her back, though she didn’t
speak, perhaps waiting for Mary to regain control. Still, Mary didn’t, her breathing only growing
sharper, like knives in her throat, feeling dizzy and distant from the world around her. Hestia’s
hand on her back felt like that of a ghost.

“Mary, you need to calm down,” Emmeline’s voice came now, steady but urgent beside her, her
hand on her shoulder as she crouched down next to Mary, too. “You’re going to make yourself
sick, Mac. You have to breathe.”

“I can’t,” Mary whispered, her voice hoarse from lack of use and thick with tears. “I can’t!”

“Please, Mac,” Hestia begged her, a desperate note in her voice, too. “You’re having an attack, but
you have to breathe. Lily would want—”

“Lily wanted me to take care of her son!” Mary cried, and her voice carried through the graveyard,
high and distressed. She heard the cawing of startled birds in the distance, and her hand curled
around a patch of grass, as if it would steady her.

“I promised her that I’d take care of Harry if—if this happened,” Mary finished on a sharp exhale,
a sob. “And I can’t—Dumbledore won’t tell me where Harry is, he won’t let me see him. I
promised her and now she’s gone, and I can’t—I can’t even fulfill it. I can’t do anything—”

She opened her eyes and looked at the gravestone, at Lily’s name etched there, and she couldn’t do
it. She sobbed harder, dizziness overcoming her again. She brought her forehead to her knees, her
head close to the ground, under which Lily lay. Lily…her best friend. Lily…who she’d loved more
than she thought she should’ve, even if she’d never understood it, never let herself think about the
way she’d loved her. Lily…who was gone.

Mary heard another set of footsteps approaching her, another person kneeling in front of her, a
hand on her shoulder, and she looked up between panting breaths to see Remus. His blue eyes
were rimmed with red, his face crumpled, looking just as devastated as she felt, just as broken.
Mary’s gaze latched onto his face, unable to look away from the raw grief that they shared.

“Remus, how could Sirius—how could he do that?” she demanded, breathing faster still.

Remus swallowed, shaking his head, misery written all over his face. He leaned forward to pull her
into a hug, and she clung to him, trying to regain her balance, trying to use him to steady her.

“I don’t know. I don’t know…” Remus whispered, his voice cracking as he began to cry as well.

Their world was broken, just as their hearts were. This they shared. Remus’ whole reality had been
destroyed within days: three of his best friends were dead, and the man he’d been in love with had
turned out to be a traitor and was now locked away from him forever. Mary had lost Lily, her best
friend, her person. They’d both lost Harry: Harry, who they’d promised to protect, and now
couldn’t. Their lives were now just the ruins of what they’d once been.

At some point, Mary reached some threshold of grief and despair where she went completely off
her head, and she remembered nothing more other than a vial pressed to her lips, the taste of a
calming potion on her tongue. When she woke hours later, she was on the couch in her old flat in
London, Emmeline and Hestia sitting by her side. They offered her food and water, speaking to her
in soft, soothing tones, saying words she couldn’t process. Mary felt so distant from them, distant
from everyone in her world. She thanked them for taking care of her, then departed.

Back in her flat in Cornwall, Mary felt as if everything here was unfamiliar, too. It was strange that
it looked the same as it had before everything had happened, strange that everything should still be
here. It seemed like it should’ve been torn apart, like the rest of her life. Perhaps if it’d been in
ruins, Mary could live there, but as it was, she couldn’t stand it. She couldn’t just stay and pretend
her life was the same, go on as she’d been, and live the life she’d imagined when she’d been
seventeen. That imagined life had had Lily in it. This real one didn’t.

The only thing Mary knew she needed was the one thing she couldn’t have: she needed not to be
Mary anymore. Still, even if Mary couldn’t completely abandon herself, she couldn’t stay here. So
that day, she made a decision, going through her flat to retrieve the few things she still wanted,
packing up the rest in boxes with a flick of her wand, and leaving them in the middle of the floor.
In the boxes were clothes and toiletries, posters and books, though she made sure to destroy
anything remotely magical. Soon, Mary knew, someone would come looking, and she didn’t care
if they took them, donated them, or anything else. Her landlord would rent the flat to someone else,
and she wouldn’t return. She’d quit her job, too, the one she’d worked so hard to get.

Where she’d go wasn’t something she’d thought of yet. What she’d do was a similar mystery.
Instead of thinking about it, Mary swung her bag over her shoulder and headed toward the door.
She didn’t look back as she locked the door behind her and shoved the key under the doormat.
She’d send a letter to her landlord once she decided where she wanted to go. She’d owl Emmeline
and Hestia, then, too. Their faces popped into her head, and Mary felt pain shoot through her chest.
They deserved more than a written goodbye, and yet Mary couldn’t bear to see them again. Or
Remus. They were all just reminders of her grief, now, reminders of her old life which had been
destroyed. She wasn’t that person they’d grown with anymore, either, and perhaps they’d be better
off without her, too.

Mary walked away from her old flat down the hallway, hurried down the stairs and out onto the
street, the door of her building swinging shut behind her with finality. Perhaps she’d go back to
Cornwall, try to track down the person she’d been before she’d known about Hogwarts or any of
the rest of them. That might be a place to start. Mary imagined Lily, her dark red hair falling out of
a ponytail and framing her face, giving Mary a last tired smile as they said their goodbyes on that
last day that they’d seen each other in Godric’s Hollow. She saw Lily’s wave as Mary had
disapparated from the backyard.

Mary had never understood it, the feeling she got when she looked at Lily. It’d crept up on her over
the course of years, and it’d never made itself apparent in the way that other people talked about
love. It’d been hard to pin down, hard to label, and this had made it easier for Mary, as she’d never
wanted to label it. All Mary had known was that she loved Lily, and sometimes that love came
with looking at her best friend and thinking how she’d never really understood what beauty meant
until she saw her. Lily loved Mary, too, though Mary had been able to acknowledge to herself that
perhaps it wasn’t the same love that Mary felt for Lily. Sometimes Mary ached for something but
wasn’t really sure what it was that she ached for. But mostly, it was enough to love Lily quietly, as
she had. Because Lily was happy, so Mary was happy. And Lily had James, and James loved her
back, so Mary never felt anything but gratitude toward him. And then they’d had Harry, and Mary
loved him, too, because there was nothing else to do.

It would’ve been enough, all of it, but Mary hadn’t been able to save Lily, just like James hadn’t,
nor had any of the rest of her friends, nor anyone else who’d loved her. None of it’d been enough.
Mary’s last promise to her hadn’t been enough, either, as it’d done nothing to sway Dumbledore.
Now Harry would grow up alone, raised by his mother’s sister, who Mary knew wouldn’t be the
parent Lily had wanted for him, and Mary couldn’t do a thing to stop it.

I’m sorry, she told the spirit of Lily that lingered next to her. And with that final thought, Mary
rounded the corner to an alleyway where she’d disapparate, leaving Lily behind forever. Despite
how much she’d loved her, now all Mary wanted to do was forget.

....

Peter looked out through the grass toward the procession, his ears twitching and alert. The group of
wizards dressed in black stopped before the grave, and Peter crept closer, keeping low in the grass
and hiding behind gravestones as he approached. He doubted that anyone would take notice of a
rat, anyway, even if they did see him, except perhaps Remus. Still, Peter doubted that Remus
would believe that his old friend was still alive, instead probably thinking that his mind was
playing tricks on itself, what with everything that had happened.

Perhaps Peter shouldn’t have taken the risk at all, but he’d felt drawn to this place, to these people,
drawn enough to make the journey and be here in this moment, when they put their friends to rest.
He scanned the crowd, looking past the insignificant people at the back toward those he knew,
who must be clustered around the grave, at the front. He caught sight of Hestia’s dark hair, her arm
around Mary, who was shaking. Emmeline stood beside them, and Peter could see the set of her
jaw in profile, her shoulders tensed against the tears that she was no doubt holding back.

Peter couldn’t tell whether Hestia was crying or not, as her head was bowed, and it looked as if she
was using all her strength to try to hold Mary together. Remus, who stood across from them on the
other side of the grave, stood with his father. He was looking down at the coffins with a blank look
of a man lost to grief, and as Peter watched, Lyall Lupin put a comforting arm around his son.
Remus didn’t respond, but as Peter watched, he closed his eyes, and a few tears slipped down his
cheek.

Peter looked on as the two coffins were lowered into the grave, side by side, and as the earth was
lifted to cover them. He looked on as the mourners drew away, the last of which were Mary,
Hestia, Emmeline, and Remus. He saw Mary crying and tugging on Remus’ shoulders, Hestia and
Emmeline trying to calm her, to focus her, and then eventually, half-carrying her limp form out of
the graveyard. Remus stood by the grave for a few more moments, resting his hand on the stone
and closing his eyes, then followed them out. Peter knew that they’d attend his own funeral next,
where there would be no body to bury. He wouldn’t attend that one. He refused to see his family
grieve for him.

After Peter was sure that everyone was gone, and the graveyard was silent and empty, he
transformed back into his human form in his hiding spot, performing a disillusionment charm on
himself before he stood and walked toward the grave. He knelt before it and traced the letters
carved into the smooth, white marble—over James’ name, his dates of birth and death, then Lily’s.
Lastly, he ran his fingers over the words etched there: The last enemy that shall be destroyed is
death.

Peter remembered his father reading him that line of the bible when he’d been a very small child,
and remembered its meaning. He’d taken comfort in it, then, and after his father had died. Now,
the thought of it made a jolt of fear go through him, as if death were destroyed, how would he
answer for the crimes he’d committed against those lost?

Peter felt tears spring to his eyes as he looked at the grave and thought of the people below him
who he’d betrayed. “I never wanted this,” he whispered. The grave was silent, cold, and
unforgiving, just as he knew they’d be. Just as Sirius had been. Peter knew it didn’t matter what
he’d wanted, too. What mattered was what he’d done.

Peter still didn’t know whether he’d been responsible for Marlene’s and her family’s deaths, but he
knew who he had gotten killed: Benjy Fenwick. Gideon and Fabian Prewett. Edgar Bones, his
wife, and his two daughters. Dorcas. Lily and James.

Peter had even used Hestia’s information to have Dorcas killed, all to save himself. If she knew
that, Peter knew that Hestia would hate herself forever. With any luck, however, she’d never
know, as no one would ever know what he’d done, either. Sirius was rotting in prison with his
guilt, and Peter was free.

Peter had played his part as the traitor well, so well that now he wasn’t sure where he began and it
stopped. Perhaps there was no distinction now. One thing had remained for longer than the rest,
however: he’d tried to hold out, and struggled against the Dark Lord when it came to betraying
Lily, James, and Harry. He’d claimed for months to have no knowledge of the boy spoken of in the
prophecy, had practiced clumsy Occlumency against the Dark Lord. He’d hidden.

It’d been Sirius who’d ruined it in the end, Sirius who’d told Peter to be the Secret Keeper. Peter
could’ve gone on pretending to have no knowledge of the protective enchantments surrounding the
Potters’ house, but after the Fidelius Charm had been cast, the jig had been up. And perhaps Peter
hadn’t wanted it, but when push came to shove, he’d been ready for the final betrayal. He’d had a
plan, built up over months and ready for him to fall back on. It was their fault, really, that they’d
fallen into it so perfectly.

Over time, the guilt had affected Peter less and less. Over time, it’d become easier not to feel
anything about what he’d done. It became easier to admit that he’d never cared about this war,
never felt the sense of duty or righteousness that his friends had. Still, he hadn’t become so good at
this compartmentalization that he could avoid feeling something after James’ death. Even so, Peter
still felt some bitter anger toward him, and that had helped him along. After all, if James hadn’t
expected so much of Peter, hadn’t believed in him so much, he’d never have died.
Part of Peter hated James for being a fool, after so many years of believing that James Potter was
infallible, and in the end, Peter had been the one to beat him. There was grief, yes, but also a
strange sense of satisfaction, the same kind that had come over him when he’d seen the look in
Sirius’ eyes once he realized what Peter’s plan was. He’d beaten them both, something none of
them would’ve believed him capable of before, least of all himself. He’d destroyed them at their
own game, proven himself the best Marauder of them all. And yet he had little to show for it, other
than his life. Still, Peter had given up everything for it, so he wouldn’t throw it away now.

He spent another moment at the grave, looking down at the names and steeling himself for what
was to come. Then, he rose, and walked off toward the trees at the edge of the graveyard, not
looking back. Once he was in the shelter of the trees, Peter held his wand tightly in his hand and
turned on the spot. The horrible compressing feeling of apparition came over him again,
threatening to suffocate him. After a moment, it was gone, and he stood panting in another patch of
trees on a hill, clutching his chest. Peter composed himself after a moment, reminding himself that
this was the last time he’d have to apparate for a very, very long time if all went to plan.

Peter looked around him, down the hill toward the little town. He’d come to the right place, as he
saw the strange, crooked house on the horizon. It’d been seeing the Weasleys at Gideon and
Fabian’s funeral that had given him the idea: a respected, wizarding family that could offer him
protection if things went south, a place he could hide and wait for new developments to take place.
Arthur Weasley worked in the Ministry, after all, and their children would soon be going to
Hogwarts. There were many people in that house, many sources of information he could glean. All
he had to do, hopefully, would be to convince one of the children that he could be a lovable pet.

Still concealed in the trees, Peter took the disillusionment charm off of himself, then knelt down on
the ground. With shaking hands, Peter dug a small hole in the cold earth below a tree, burying his
wand there. He thought of marking the tree where it lay with something, but he decided against it.
He wasn’t sure he ever wanted to find his wand again. Magic wasn’t safety for him any longer; the
key to survival would be hiding, now, not fighting. He preferred it that way, anyway.

When he was finished, he transformed again, back into a rat. Then, Peter began to make slow
progress down the hill, toward the Weasleys’ house. He’d likely stay in his Animagus form for
years, if not the rest of his life. Who knew what would happen in the future? This way, he’d be
safe, and no one would ever know that he’d survived this war. Perhaps he hadn’t, anyway.

....

Hestia sat at the bar of The Drunken Witch pub, cradling a glass of whiskey in her hands, looking
down into its depths as if she thought she might see her future in it, or at least, a future other than
the headache she’d have the next day after finishing the contents. She’d come here after Mary had
left her and Emmeline’s flat, and Emmeline had said that she was going to bed. It’d been an
exhausting couple of days, emotionally and physically, and Hestia felt it too, but she couldn’t sleep.

If she slept, Hestia thought she might dream, and that was the last thing she wanted. The dreams
that had come to her in the past few days weren’t quite nightmares, but they haunted her still,
showing her images that she’d been trying to escape in her waking hours: Peter’s face when he’d
said goodbye to her the previous week, Lily’s and James’ bodies, Harry crying in the wrecked
house, Sirius laughing over the blown-apart street…Hestia didn’t wake up from her dreams
sweating or terrified, she just woke in the morning with tears on her cheeks. She was tired of
crying.

Hestia couldn’t make heads or tails of any of it, or of the war. It seemed as if everyone in the
wizarding world other than her friends were ready to forget the war, ready to celebrate the end of
their constant terror and move on, but she couldn’t. Forgetting was for the people who hadn’t
experienced the loss that they had. Celebration was for happy people. Hestia wasn’t happy.

She couldn’t stop thinking about it, about the series of events that had led them here so smoothly.
Marlene’s death had seemed to put them on this track, and they hadn’t been able to escape it since.
After the McKinnons it’d been Benjy, then Dorcas, Edgar and his whole family, Gideon and
Fabian, Lily and James, Peter…she still didn’t understand how it’d happened like that, how they’d
lost so many in such a short amount of time when they’d fought for years and lost no one. It was all
down to the spy, she supposed, but whenever Hestia remembered that the spy was supposed to
have been Sirius, it threw her for another loop.

She kept remembering the day that Dorcas had died, the letter she’d sent her, and what Hestia had
found when she’d gotten off her shift at St. Mungo’s and gone to her flat. Sirius had been the
second person to show up, called by Hestia’s summons, she’d thought. If he’d been the spy,
though, he would’ve already known. Hestia had believed that whoever the spy was had gotten
Dorcas killed because they’d found out that she was looking for them, that she’d found out who
they were. The fact that her wall of evidence had been removed when Hestia had found her body
pointed to that conclusion. And yet, how could it have been Sirius?

Sirius, who’d loved Dorcas like his own sister, who’d tried to comfort her when she found
Marlene’s body, who’d given Marlene’s eulogy at her funeral when Dorcas couldn’t…how could
he have done it? And, for that matter, how could he have given Voldemort the information that had
gotten Lily and James killed, which would’ve gotten Harry killed, too, if something hadn’t gone
wrong for Voldemort along the way? Hestia had been unsure of many things in the past few
months, with the cloud of fear and distrust that had surrounded them all, but she’d never been
unsure, never in her time of knowing the Marauders, that Sirius loved James. And since Harry had
been born, Hestia had never doubted for one moment that Sirius loved his godson, too, and that
he’d protect him with his life. But that certainty faltered in the face of cold, hard evidence, and
trying to figure out heads or tails of what had happened was what had driven Hestia here, staring
down at the liquor in her glass.

“You going to drink that, or drown yourself in it?” Edna asked her as she stepped back around the
bar, just finished serving someone at one of the booths along the wall.

Hestia looked up at her to find Edna’s dark eyes trained on her, filled with concern. Hestia
shrugged.

“I suppose I haven’t decided yet,” she said.

Edna set down the glass she’d been cleaning and leaned back against the bar, examining Hestia up
and down. “It’ll get better,” she said after a moment. “You’ve lost a lot this year, and that’s going
to take its toll. But eventually, you’ll come out the other end, you know?”

“Yeah,” Hestia said hollowly. She knew it was true; people had told her that enough recently. She
also knew that things would never be the same. She’d lost too many friends, too much of her old
life, to ever reclaim the person she’d been. Perhaps she was grieving for herself, too.

“Where’s Emmy tonight, then?” Edna asked, narrowing her eyes at Hestia shrewdly.

“She’s sleeping,” Hestia replied heavily. “It’s been a rough couple of days…or months, I suppose.”

“Just don’t you let yourselves drift apart,” Edna advised. “You’ll need each other more than ever,
through all this. Remember that.”
Hestia nodded, sighing. She knew she’d never let go of Emmeline, but Emmeline also couldn’t be
everything to her. Before this year, Hestia had had many friends around her, people she could talk
to about all sorts of things. She loved them all, and talked to them all in different ways, went to
each for different things. Emmeline was strong and steady, and she was Hestia’s best friend, but
Hestia missed Lily. She missed Marlene, and Dorcas, and James. She missed Sirius, too, though
that was complicated. She missed Peter, who she’d never expected to worm into her heart in the
way that he had. Hestia had thought that when the war ended, she’d celebrate with him, and that
when it was over, they’d be able to talk about the things they’d quietly put off for after the fighting
had stopped. None of that would happen, now.

Edna examined Hestia with concern for a moment longer, then stepped over to the other side of the
bar to take another person’s order. Hestia raised her glass to her lips and took a small sip, then
another bigger one. The whiskey burned on the way down, but it was a good sort of discomfort,
unlike every other kind of pain she was currently dealing with.

She heard the sound of someone sliding into a seat a few yards away from her, but didn’t look up
until she heard a strangely familiar voice say: “Can I have a whiskey neat, please?” The man’s
voice was slow and deep, and when Hestia looked over at him, she was startled by the person she
saw there.

“Kingsley?” she asked, surprise momentarily distracting her from her despair. “Is that you?”

Kingsley turned and blinked at her, his expression downcast, clearly taking a moment to recognize
her. “Hestia Jones, right?” he asked, looking just as surprised as she felt.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Hestia replied, standing up and taking her drink with her to slide into the
seat next to Kingsley.

He nodded, giving her a small smile, though she could still see the traces of melancholy in his
expression. “Do you come here often?” he asked her politely.

Hestia shrugged, glancing down at her drink again. “Not that often,” she said. “Tonight I felt like I
needed it.”

Kingsley nodded again and glanced down at her black dress, which she hadn’t changed out of after
the funerals. “So did I,” he said, taking his drink from Edna with a small smile and a nod of thanks,
and taking a sip.

Hestia copied him, taking another sip from her drink and examining him as she did so. He was
taller than the last time she’d seen him, and the lines of his face seemed somehow more defined,
having lost the roundness it’d had at sixteen.

“I wish I could’ve gone to their funerals,” Kingsley said suddenly, looking up at her. His eyes
searched hers with a kind of sad apology in them. “But I couldn’t get out of work. The Auror office
is busier than I’ve ever seen it, these days.”

“It’s alright,” Hestia said, looking at him curiously. After a moment’s silence, she said: “I didn’t
know you were in training to be an Auror.”

Kingsley gave a small shrug. “It’s all I wanted to do when I graduated,” he said, looking sadly into
his drink. “To help. To hear Marlene and—and Sirius talk about fighting Voldemort when I was in
school…well, I always wanted to be like them. And like James. He always cared about people, and
stood up for them.”
Hestia felt a wave of understanding flood through her as she looked at him. She remembered how
Emmeline had been after she’d heard about Sam Thomas’ death because of how much she’d
looked up to him when he’d been her Quidditch Captain. Kingsley had clearly felt the same way
about James, Marlene, and Sirius. Now, James and Marlene were dead, and Sirius had been proven
a traitor. Who was left to look up to?

“James was the greatest of us all,” Hestia said softly.

She remembered how, in their seventh year, James had been the first one to say yes to Dumbledore,
apparently getting up early the morning after he’d asked him to join the Order to give the
headmaster his answer after Dumbledore had refused to accept it the same day. James had also
been the one who refused to even think about who the spy was, refused to distrust any of them
because he’d said he knew that no one he was close to would betray him. He’d had a heart of gold,
and it’d put him into a grave.

“Everyone’s celebrating now,” Kingsley said, continuing to stare tiredly into his drink. “But I feel
as if I don’t know what the world is meant to look like anymore. What do we do now? What do we
believe in?”

Hestia looked over at him and felt the soft surety of relief flood over her, to hear someone else say
what she’d been thinking. She sighed and shook her head. “I’ve been wondering the same thing.”

She took another sip of her drink, and when Kingsley looked over at her, she met his gaze and saw
her own relief reflected in his eyes, to hear someone else say they were lost, too.

....

Remus unlocked the door to his flat in London and opened it cautiously, standing in the doorway as
the door swung open to show him the empty hallway within. Remus hadn’t been there since the
morning of the first of November when he’d found out the truth of what had happened. Instead,
he’d spent the days in between with his father at his childhood home in Wales.

A strange shift had occurred between Remus and his father in those days. Their relationship hadn’t
returned to how it’d been in the past, before Lyall’s secrets had been exposed. Remus had changed
things, too, with all that he’d revealed to his father in anger about his friends and what they’d
known about him that Lyall had never wanted anyone to know. Still, it seemed that while all this
truth-telling had made them more cautious around one another, it was also for the better that
everything was out in the open between them.

In the days that Remus had stayed with his father, they’d spoken more than they had in the
previous two years. It felt sometimes like Lyall was walking on eggshells around his son, but not
unpleasantly so. Instead, he was taking care to treat Remus’ decisions and his life with greater
respect and deference than he had before. Lyall had even asked about what had happened during all
those years at Hogwarts, about his friends and how they’d helped him, and Remus had told him
everything, as it felt like a secret not worth keeping any longer. Remus had seen the way his
father’s mouth pressed into a straight line in some moments, holding back a remonstrance, and he
appreciated his silence, his acknowledgment of the fact that these were Remus’ decisions to make.

Remus had told his father, too, finally, about his relationship with Sirius. Sirius’ birthday had been
one of the worst days, as Remus couldn’t drag his mind away from Sirius, trapped in a cell in the
middle of the North Sea. He wondered whether Sirius even knew it was his birthday, not only
because he was detached from the rest of the world, but also because Sirius had once told Remus
that he only remembered his birthdays because of his friends. So instead of holding it in any
longer, he’d told Lyall.
Lyall had been quiet for a very long time after that, making Remus afraid that it’d all been a
mistake, one that would ruin the tentative relationship they were rebuilding. But just as Remus had
begun to think about standing to leave, Lyall had hugged his son, and Remus had started to cry
again, there in his father’s arms. Because this should’ve happened years ago; it should’ve happened
when Remus would’ve been sharing something good, not then, when his father was trying to piece
him back together from all that Sirius had done.

Now, back in the old flat that he and Sirius had shared together, Remus acknowledged for the first
time how terrified he’d been to return there. He’d been terrified for what he’d find, what parts of
Sirius would remain to haunt him. Still, this was his home. He had little left.

Remus hesitated for a moment longer before stepping inside the flat and shutting the door behind
him. He turned and walked slowly toward the kitchen, placing his keys on the counter and looking
around. It was exactly as he’d last left it. Even his mug of tea from the previous week still sat on
the counter, and the two letters—one from Dumbledore, the other one that he’d started for Sirius—
lay side by side on the coffee table. Remus strode over and picked up both, looking down at them
side by side for a moment, before folding them together and shoving them between two books on
the bookshelf. They’d be a reminder, if Remus ever needed one, of the truth of what had happened.
Sometimes he still didn’t believe it.

Remus sighed and turned to the kitchen, walking over and opening the freezer. After searching for
a moment, he took out a frozen meal that had been in there for far too long and placed it into the
microwave. He hadn’t eaten much that day, not after the funerals: first for Lily and James, then for
Peter. He’d spent a long time with Peter’s family, that day, feeling a sense of responsibility to do
so. He was the last of Peter’s close friends, after all, and it was only right. Still, it’d been terrible to
look into Peter’s mother’s face, to witness her grief, and even more so with Peter’s younger
siblings, sixteen-year-old Nora and fourteen-year-old Jack. They both looked so much like Peter,
especially his younger brother, whose expression had remained guarded and angry for the whole
time that Remus had been there, as he stared down at the floor.

As Remus had stood to leave, and Peter’s mother led him out, he’d heard Nora snap at Jack from
the sitting room, telling him to show that he gave a damn every once in a while. Remus heard
Jack’s response carry down the hall toward them.

“It’s not fair! How could Peter take all those risks and die, after dad? Didn’t he care about us at
all?”

Peter’s mum gave Remus a forced smile, obviously trying to pretend that she hadn’t heard her
remaining son’s words, and Remus felt terrible for her. He wished he could’ve said more that
would make it better, but he knew there was nothing, so he told her that she should reach out to
him if she ever needed anything, and let her usher him out.

Now, that was all over, and Remus was back at his flat, not having to feel sorry for anyone but
himself, eating some soggy, frozen lasagna. Remus wondered whether this would be the rest of his
life. Still, even this might be out of his reach if he didn’t figure out soon what he was going to do.
The war was over, but Remus wasn’t free. Miranda had been right all along, of course. No one was
talking about werewolf rights, and now, Remus didn’t have Sirius to support him. He had this flat,
of course, if no one tried to take it from him, but that wouldn’t pay for food, clothes, or everything
else he needed to live. And the full moons…Remus guessed that he’d spend them alone, now, just
like he had when he’d been a kid, tearing himself apart.

Remus heard a knock on his door, tearing him away from his thoughts. He set his fork down,
grateful for an interruption, and strode toward the door. He didn’t bother looking through the
peephole, hardly caring if this was a friend or an enemy, just unlocked the door and swung it open.
Alaric was leaning in the doorway, a bag slung over his shoulder, his eyes on the ground. When
Remus opened the door, Alaric looked up at him, a flicker of hope in his eyes.

“Lupin,” he said, and though he was clearly trying for his usual casual tone, there was a note of
vulnerability in his voice that he couldn’t suppress. “Can I come in?”

Remus’ eyes scanned over Alaric: his unkempt hair, dirty clothes, the bag over his shoulder, and
though the last thing Remus wanted was to have another person he needed to take care of right
then, he knew that Alaric wouldn’t have come here if he didn’t really need Remus. Remus stepped
aside.

“Sure,” he said, allowing Alaric in.

Alaric limped over the threshold, looking around as he entered the flat. Remus wondered vaguely
how he’d gotten into the building. Had he jimmied the lock, or simply slipped in after someone?

When Remus had closed and locked the door behind him and followed Alaric back into the sitting
room, he found him just standing there, looking as if he wasn’t sure if he was really allowed to be
there at all. His eyes scanned over the sitting room furniture and bookshelf, and onto the kitchen,
and Remus half-expected him to make some comment about how posh it was, but Alaric stayed
silent. He looked almost afraid.

“What’s going on?” Remus asked after it was clear that Alaric wouldn’t speak first.

“The place on Coleridge got taken,” Alaric said, looking away from Remus, seemingly unable to
meet his gaze. “We all ran when the Ministry came to raid it, but when we got back, Muggles were
there. They’re gonna tear it out, build somethin’ new in its place, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry,” Remus said, and he meant it. He’d never liked the house on Coleridge Road, but it’d
been a safe place for many, and it’d been Alaric’s home. He wondered if El had found somewhere
else to stay, or if something else had happened to separate the two.

Alaric stood there for a moment, looking everywhere but at Remus, and finally, he said very
quietly: “I don’ really have anywhere else to go.”

Remus stared at Alaric, the boy who’d refused to accept his help for years, now standing in the
middle of his flat in a posh district of London and asking him to stay. Remus felt hollow inside, and
again, he wished that he could just turn Alaric away, wished that he didn’t care about this nineteen-
year-old kid or his struggle. But as he continued to look at Alaric, Remus knew he couldn’t. He’d
grown to care about Alaric over many years, even after he’d been openly hostile to him, and in the
last year or two, Alaric had really helped him. What Remus had done to deserve it, to earn Alaric’s
trust, he still didn’t know, but he knew that this was the moment that Remus needed to pay him
back.

“You’re welcome to stay here,” Remus said, and Alaric looked up at him, a flash of gratitude
coming over his face. He looked far younger than he usually did. His eyes flicked, almost against
his will, it seemed, toward Remus’ half-eaten frozen dinner. Remus gestured toward it.

“Help yourself,” he offered. “I’m not really hungry, anyway.”

“You sure?” Alaric asked hesitantly, and Remus nodded.

Alaric didn’t need telling twice and dropped his bag on the ground, limping over to the counter and
grabbing the fork and container, shoving the food into his mouth hungrily. Remus wondered how
long it’d been since he’d last eaten.

“Where are the rest of the wolves that lived on Coleridge?” Remus asked, leaning against the
counter and watching Alaric as he ate.

Alaric shrugged. “Gone off to wherever,” he said between chews. “Moved to live with other packs,
most of ‘em.”

“Why didn’t you do that?” Remus asked, trying to keep his voice neutral, hoping that Alaric
wouldn’t think that this was Remus’ way of telling him to go somewhere else.

Alaric looked up at him. “I’m not welcome,” he admitted, shaking his head tiredly. “Me and El
went to another place in London we know some werewolves live, but…well, another wolf picked a
fight with me. Called me a turncoat. They all know that I know you. I left. Didn’ want to cause
more trouble.”

Remus felt a pang of guilt go through him, but he was relieved to know that El was alright,
nonetheless. “Why didn’t they take it out on El, then?” The other young werewolf had been almost
as active as Alaric with the werewolves against Voldemort.

Alaric shrugged. “Suppose people don’ like me much, anyway,” he said, shrugging again, and
Remus saw a flicker of sadness cross over his face. “El keeps a low profile, keeps on people’s good
sides. I’m not so good at that, am I?”

Remus frowned. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Alaric just shrugged, turning back to the plastic lasagna container and swallowing the last bite,
then running his finger around the bottom to get the last bit of sauce out and sticking it into his
mouth.

“Didn’ wanna come here,” he said after he’d finished. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate
without me botherin’ you.”

Remus stiffened as Alaric looked up at him, his brown eyes knowing. “Don’t worry about me,”
Remus replied, taking the container from Alaric and putting it in the trash to give himself an excuse
to turn his back on the younger man. “I’m fine.”

“Sure you are,” Alaric said disbelievingly. Remus didn’t respond, but when he turned back, he saw
Alaric continuing to examine him. “I read the papers, saw the news about your friends. They were
your friends, weren’t they?”

Remus hesitated, feeling as if this was the last conversation he wanted to have, and least of all with
Alaric, right then. But he nodded anyway.

“I’m sorry,” Alaric said, surprising Remus. But Alaric’s look was genuine. There was a pause,
where Remus gave a noncommittal nod and a shrug, and Alaric continued to look at him. “And
your…your boyfriend. That Sirius Black, right?”

Remus closed his eyes and nodded mutely. He didn’t know why Alaric was asking these questions
and just wished he’d stop, though he didn’t have the energy to ask him to.

“D’you know why he did it?” Alaric asked. Remus sighed, and opened his eyes, giving Alaric an
aggrieved look.

“I can still hardly believe he actually did.”

Alaric examined Remus thoughtfully for a few moments, as if he was figuring out a complicated
problem in his head. “You miss ‘im, don’ you?” he asked.

Remus fought the urge to glare at him, fought the urge to pick a fight in response to all of Alaric’s
insensitive, intrusive questions.

“I’ve known him since I was eleven, and loved him for most of that time,” he said wryly, trying to
suppress the bitterness in his voice. “Of course I miss him. I wish I could cut out the part of me that
misses him, but I can’t.” He gestured helplessly around at him. “I’m just left here alone, wallowing
in self-pity.”

Alaric’s brown eyes pierced him, and Remus was about to open his mouth to ask him to stop
staring when Alaric got to his feet and strode, with surprising speed due to his uneven gait, toward
him. One hand went up to cup the back of Remus’ neck as he pulled a shocked Remus down to
press their lips together. The kiss was short and awkward, given the fact that Remus was frozen
with shock throughout, until he got the sense to push Alaric away from him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Remus demanded, his eyes wide as he looked down at
Alaric, who’d stumbled slightly as Remus pushed him, but righted himself quickly. He looked
strangely confused as Remus pushed him away as if some calculation in his mind hadn’t gone
right.

“I jus’ thought…” Alaric trailed off, running a hand through his hair, his cheeks reddening slightly
in embarrassment. “I jus’ thought…You said—you said you wished you didn’ care about ‘im.”

He looked lost, then, and Remus realized that Alaric really thought he’d been helping. In his mind,
this had been what he could do for Remus in return for Remus letting him stay there. Remus
moved a step away from Alaric and shook his head.

“That’s—that’s not what I want,” he said shakily, trying hard not to visibly cringe away, his skin
still crawling slightly at the contact. “That’s not what’ll make me feel better, Alaric.”

“Sorry,” Alaric mumbled, looking down at the floor.

Remus sighed and swallowed the bile in his throat. He didn’t want to think about who’d taught
Alaric that that was the way to make people tolerate his presence, and he didn’t have the energy
for it, that night. Still, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

“It’s okay. Just…just go take a shower, alright?” Remus said tiredly. “You can take the bedroom,
and I’ll sleep on the couch for now. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

Alaric nodded, looking up at Remus guiltily before his gaze turned back down, and he trudged over
to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Remus heard the sound of the shower turning on,
and he sighed out a breath of relief. He walked over toward the couch and sat down on it, putting
his face in his hands. He didn’t know what to do, where to go from there, and Alaric…well, there
he was, someone that Remus had taken responsibility for when he hardly knew how to take
responsibility for himself.

Remus felt so tired and so hollow. The whole world was being rebuilt around him, and he was
supposed to move on, yet he had no idea how. He had no idea how to move forward, not when
everything he’d known had been taken from him. What was there to move forward to? When
Remus had imagined the war ending, he’d always imagined his friends around him. Now there was
just a space where they’d been, and Remus felt very, very alone.
 A few minutes later, he heard the sound of the tap turning off, then Alaric exited the bathroom
with a towel around his waist. He hesitated in the doorway to the bedroom, looking into it as if he
wasn’t sure, again, if he was truly allowed to be there.

“Borrow whatever clothes you like from the closet,” Remus told him, gesturing vaguely toward the
bedroom. He swallowed before choking out the words: “Sirius’ stuff will probably fit you.”

Alaric looked over to him, gaze unreadable, and nodded. “Night, Remus,” he said.

Remus looked away, and he heard Alaric limp into the bedroom and shut the door behind him,
then the sounds of him opening the closet door to rummage around inside.

“Goodnight,” Remus whispered, closing his eyes.

He felt as if the world was growing larger around him, or perhaps he was shrinking. He sat still on
the couch, eyes closed, imagining the room expanding around him as he grew smaller and smaller.
The buildings around them shot up, casting the old place into shadows, and Remus with it. London
grew large, devouring Remus’ troubles, his life, his friends, and everything he’d known while he
silently shrunk to a pinprick, powerless to stop it.

Chapter End Notes

Obviously, I don't usually include quotes at the beginning of chapters, but this one felt
so poignant and appropriate for this chapter, so I just had to. I would highly
recommend the book, also, for anyone who hasn't read it. Kazuo Ishiguro is an
amazing writer.

To be clear, also, since I've just revealed that I'm a Stranger Things fan, I absolutely
didn't name El in this fic after Eleven from Stranger Things. It's purely coincidental
and the two characters are not at all connected in my brain haha.
 1982: Tiny Dancer
Chapter Notes

cw: mention of non-major character death, mentions of violence/torture

On the fourth day of the New Year in 1982, Mary sat at a dark bar in Rome, cradling her third
drink of the night as the people around her began to trickle out onto the street. She’d hoped that the
New Year would allow her to close the door on the death and destruction of the previous one, but
that had proved too wishful. That very afternoon, in fact, Mary had received a letter from Hestia
telling her that Caradoc Dearborn had gone missing, and was presumed dead.

Hestia had kept sending Mary letters over the course of the past two months, but each time Mary
saw Dorcas’ snowy owl, Avellana, swooping down to meet her, it still hurt. Mary wished that
Hestia would stop, and she never wrote back, though she read every one. Sometimes the letters
brought news, which always seemed bad. In mid-November, only ten days after Mary had left
England, Hestia had sent her the news that Frank and Alice Longbottom had been found and
tortured into insanity by Voldemort’s supporters.

That had been the night that Mary apparated from Paris to Venice, as suddenly, France had felt too
close to the United Kingdom. Then, she drank herself under the table in a shadowy bar and walked
down to the Grand Canal. She’d stood there, leaning against the nearest building for a moment,
thinking about the day when she, Alice, and Lily had walked down to the Thames in London, just
after the two younger witches had left Hogwarts.

Mary had approached the water that night and sat down on the edge of the canal, dangling her legs
off the short ledge. Her shoes had barely brushed the water’s surface, but she hadn’t cared. The
Grand Canal seemed cleaner than the Thames, but even if it wasn’t, there was no way that
something so small as the water being dirty could make Mary feel worse than she already was
feeling.

In her mind’s eye, Mary had seen Lily and Alice laughing as they walked down to the Thames
riverside, side by side. The water had sparkled that day in the rare London sun, and in Venice,
more than three years later, the light of the waning moon reflected off of the Grand Canal,
reminding her of that day. Under cover of darkness, Mary had begun to cry, sobbing uncontrollably
for the first time since the day of Lily and James’ funeral. Her tears had slid down her cheeks and
fallen into the river, joining the slow current dragging them away from her, just like the people
she’d lost.

It hadn’t been Mary’s family that she’d run to when she returned to Penzance in early November,
after all, but her friend Laura Cardey. Much had come out that day at Laura’s stained kitchen table,
while Mary looked down at her own light hands next to Laura’s darker ones, clutching a mug for
dear life.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Laura had said, reaching across the table to rest one hand
over Mary’s.

Still, Mary had told her almost everything, and much more than she ought to have. After years of
trying to keep her magical life separate from her Muggle one, Mary found that she was unable to
keep them from bleeding together any longer. Laura had always been the more measured of Mary’s
two friends from home, and took in the information in calm silence, not asking many questions.
Mary knew that if the circumstances had been reversed, she would’ve wanted to know much more.

Yet, when it was all out in the open, Laura had just said: “You can leave here, you know. If you
think you can’t be Mary Macdonald right now, you can go anywhere, be someone else for a while.
You’re magical, after all. I’m sure anything is possible.”

She’d been right, and so Mary had left. The emptiness hadn’t receded.

Every day and night since, Mary had tried to distract herself. She saw the sights wherever she
visited, tried to occupy her mind with the scent of the sea or the sounds of a bustling tourist city if
she needed more noise to drown out her thoughts. Then, at night, Mary would hole herself up in a
bar and try to forget her problems. She spoke to almost no one unless necessary, and retired to
whatever hotel she was staying in at the end of the night. She used all the money she’d saved up in
her years working at the Sanctuary, and cut corners wherever she could with magic.

Back in the present, Mary realized that the bartender was standing in front of her, trying to get her
attention.

“Stiamo chiudendo,” he said to her as she drained the last drop of her drink. He hesitated for a
moment, guessing that she didn’t understand, then added in a thick Italian accent: “It’s time to
leave.”

Mary nodded and set her glass back down, grabbing her jacket and putting it on, then sliding some
coins across to him on the bar.

As the lock of the bar door clicked into place behind her, Mary zipped up her jacket, holding it
closely around her as she began to walk down the dark street back to her hotel. There was the soft
sound of music emanating from a distant building, and Mary heard a few laughing voices echoing
off the cobblestones, but she ignored them. She had her wand, and she’d faced far worse than a
few drunkards in her life. She wasn’t scared.

When Mary reached her room in the shitty hotel room she was staying at that night, she unzipped
her jacket and hung it up on a hook, collapsing onto her small bed. She stared at the ceiling for a
few seconds, then, finding the silence unbearable, leaned over to her bedside table and switched on
the small radio. It was playing an English radio station, and they must have been doing a night of
throwbacks, as Mary recognized the song that was on as one from her early teen years.

She curled up on her side on the bed and stared unseeingly at the chest of drawers across from her,
her full rucksack sitting on top, jumbled items of clothing overflowing it. She never unpacked her
things at any place she was staying, never knowing when she’d get up and leave again. Sometimes
she stayed a few days, sometimes a week, but whenever she left, it was always in a hurry, always in
response to the sudden feeling that if she didn’t leave right then, she might crawl out of her skin, or
something might catch up with her.

Emmeline had written to Mary the previous week, for the first time since she’d left. The letter was
short, Emmeline writing that while she missed Mary, she understood that Mary still didn’t want to
be found. Still, Emmeline had written, could you please reply to this just to confirm that you’re
safe? Hestia’s getting anxious. You don’t need to say anything else.

Mary had returned Emmeline’s owl with two words, written on the back of the letter: I’m safe.
She’d tried to write more, but a lump had formed in her throat, so she’d just sent the letter back like
that. Mary missed them, but she also couldn’t bear to think of them.
From what Hestia’s letters said, it seemed that Remus was distancing himself from Emmeline and
Hestia in a similar way. Mary sometimes wondered if she had the right to the kind of grief that
Remus felt, but she tried not to think about it. There was a lot that she tried not to think about, these
days.

Mary’s trance was broken by the song that drifted through the radio’s speakers next, bringing her
back to the present. As the first notes played out in the air, Mary sat bolt upright, her eyes wide.

Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band

“No no no no no,” Mary said, grabbing for the radio frantically. It flew off the side table as she
fumbled it, landing on the floor and skidding across it to hit the far wall, continuing to play the
song.

Pretty-eyed, pirate smile, you’ll marry a music man

Ballerina, you must have seen her dancing in the sand

“Fuck, fuck,” Mary said, crawling across the floor toward the fallen radio. She switched it off mid-
verse and sat back, silence falling over the room again. Her hands were shaking.

The music was off, but now Mary couldn’t escape it. It played in her head, and in her mind’s eye,
she saw a picture of six girls, dancing around their dorm room, singing along.

Hold me closer, tiny dancer

Count the headlights on the highway

“Oh, I forgot, this is Mary’s song!” Marlene had laughed, grinning over at the seventeen-year-old
Mary, much to her chagrin.

Lay me down in sheets of linen

You had a busy day today

Dorcas spun and sang along, her long, curly brown hair forming a halo around her as she laughed.

“Hold me closer, tiny dancer,” Lily sang, spinning Mary around, her emerald eyes twinkling.

“No, no,” Mary moaned, her head in her hands, tears streaming down her face. The pain felt
physical, tearing apart her insides as she watched Lily smile brilliantly in her mind’s eye. The tears
didn’t stop, however, and she curled inward, trying to make herself as small as possible. It didn’t
work, and Mary’s long hair, which she hadn’t cut in almost a year, made its way into her mouth as
she sobbed.

Mary tried to brush the strands away, but when her eyes fluttered open, she caught sight of the
auburn locks, horror flooding her. She’d almost forgotten about her hair color, which she and Lily
had charmed just before her best friend had died. Mary had avoided her reflection these past few
months, not caring how she looked. The auburn hair across her pillow hadn’t bothered her much.
Now, it suddenly felt like an unbearable reminder of Lily. She needed it gone.

Mary stumbled to her feet, walking over to her jacket and pulling out her wand from an inner
pocket. She didn’t trust herself to cut her hair or change it with magic, but she conjured up a pair of
scissors and went to the bathroom mirror. Roughly, she began to chop off her auburn locks near the
roots, cutting her hair shorter than it’d ever been. The red hair drifted to the floor limply, and when
she was done, Mary just left it there, walking back into the bedroom numbly. The next day, Mary
knew she’d have to get her hair fixed, but she didn’t care about anything other than that the color
was gone.

Mary hesitated for a moment, then her gaze found the discarded radio on the ground. She walked
over and picked it up from the floor, placed it back on the bedside table, and switched it back on.
The last strands of the song were just finishing, but when it was over, Mary aimed her wand at the
radio, performing a spell she’d learned many years ago from Sirius, and the song began to play
again. She turned it up, then cast a silencing charm on the room. She got onto the bed, curling her
knees to her chest, and buried her head in them.

The tears, which had never stopped, even when she’d been cutting her hair, began to increase in
intensity. Mary’s sobs grew in volume, and when even this wasn’t enough, Mary began to scream.
No one could hear her, but she screamed and screamed until her voice was hoarse and broken, then
collapsed onto her side on the bed, pulling the blanket over her and tugging a pillow to her chest.
She fell asleep to the sounds of “Tiny Dancer” still playing on repeat on the spelled radio, and
memories of the people she’d lost haunted her dreams.

....

When Mary woke the next morning, her face was sticky with dried tears, and the radio was still
playing “Tiny Dancer,” though the sound was muffled by Mary’s pillow. Mary swallowed, feeling
a bitter taste on her tongue, and pushed herself slowly upright, rubbing her temple, where the
beginnings of a headache were pounding. She reached over to switch the radio off, the room falling
silent as she did so.

Mary felt something tickling her collar and moved to brush it away, realizing as she did so that it
was a shard of hair that had stuck to her skin overnight. She put a hand up gingerly to feel her
jaggedly chopped hairstyle, then let her hand fall to her side. She swung her legs out of her bed and
padded over to the bathroom, grabbing her wand on the way there. The long, auburn locks still lay
on the floor in a circle around where she’d stood the previous night, hacking away at her dyed hair.
Mary felt a lump form in her throat, looking at the familiar color, then raised her wand, vanishing
the locks of hair with a single sweep.

It was your hair, she reminded herself sternly as she stepped in front of the mirror. Not hers. Mary
looked ruefully into the small mirror, hand searching over her ragged haircut, and sighed. If she’d
been sensible, Mary would’ve let a hairdresser cut her hair for her, but the previous night’s
emotions hadn’t made room for sense. Still, Mary couldn’t bring herself to regret it. Looking in the
mirror, she felt as if someone else was looking back at her, the short cut emphasizing the angles of
her heart-shaped face and making her light brown eyes look bigger. She imagined what Lily would
say to her, now.

“Christ, Mac, I barely recognize you,” Lily would say, beaming from behind her in the mirror,
leaning against Mary with her hands resting on Mary’s shoulders. “You really have a flair for the
dramatic sometimes, don’t you?”

Mary shook her head, and Lily disappeared. She was left staring at herself alone in the mirror, and
after a moment, she sighed. “You have to stop doing this,” she told herself firmly. “You have to
learn to let go.”

That had been what she’d been trying to do, wasn’t it? Let go, leave her old life behind. But despite
trying to leave Lily behind, it seemed as if her dead best friend cropped up everywhere, around
every corner, trying to pull her back. Perhaps she was right, too. Perhaps Mary should give up
trying to find peace here, far away from her home and all her troubles.
Mary sighed again, her fingers reaching to press into her temples, trying to alleviate the headache.
Then, she reached over to the dingy shower and pushed the curtain open, turning on the tap. It
sputtered for a moment, then water spurted out the shower head weakly. Mary removed her clothes
and stepped under the spray, washing her hair, which perhaps would look better after she washed
it…or at least she’d know where to start.

Once her hair was clean, and she’d washed the stale liquor smell off her skin, Mary stepped out
and wrapped a towel around herself. She dried her hair with a flick of her wand, finding that it,
unfortunately, didn’t look much better dry, then set about getting dressed and ready. She pulled a
hat over her hair sheepishly, then packed up the rest of her things into her rucksack.

Either Mary would find another place to stay the following night, or she might go back to England.
She wouldn’t commit herself to anything just then, as it all sounded scarier than she liked to admit,
but she descended the stairs to the front desk and deposited her room key, checking out and
thanking the attendant. Then, Mary set out onto the street, looking this way and that, hoping she
might spot a hair salon along the way. It was a busy street, so it didn’t take her long to find one,
and when she stepped inside and removed her hat, the older Italian woman actually gasped, which
Mary thought was a little overdramatic.

The woman hurried to give Mary a seat, and Mary had to smile a little bit as she fussed around her,
pulling each lock and looking at it critically. “English?” the woman asked finally, as she looked up
to meet Mary’s brown eyes in the mirror.

“Yes, thank you,” Mary answered, giving her a sheepish smile.

The woman looked at her hair, then back to her in the mirror, and tutted. Still, she didn’t ask why
Mary had butchered her locks, only began to make suggestions in broken English, and if Mary
wasn’t much mistaken, she thought she saw a look of sympathy on the woman’s face. Perhaps she
understood.

Half an hour later, Mary paid the hairdresser, tipping generously, and walked out of the shop. Her
hair was shorter than ever but now evenly cut, and Mary thought she even liked the style. It was
more daring than anything she would’ve worn when she’d been younger, but perhaps it suited the
person she was now. Mary only knew that when she’d looked back at her reflection in the mirror
after the haircut was finished, she’d felt ready to go home again for the first time.

And so after eating a quick lunch at a cafe, Mary found a deserted alleyway and turned on the spot,
saying goodbye to Rome for now. She made her first stop in Switzerland, taking a breather before
apparating again to Paris, then finally, back to England. It was a London street Mary finally landed
in when she arrived, and, looking around, she felt both a wash of sadness come over her, along with
the comforting familiarity of the place she’d called home for more than a year.

Mary turned out of the alleyway she’d apparated to and was immediately swept up in a crowd of
shoppers on a busy, store-lined main street. She followed the flow of the crowd for a while,
glancing around as she did so. This looked much more like the London Mary remembered from her
early years of catching the Hogwarts Express, the London she’d moved to after graduating, rather
than the war-torn one of the previous year. There was no yelling, and many of the buildings which
had been partially destroyed in riots and Death Eater attacks were either repaired or under
construction.

What was unusual was the cold, which Mary hadn’t expected. She pulled her scarf closer to her
and let the sleeves of her sweater fall over her hands, bundling them in the woolen fabric. She was
grateful when she finally spotted the glass front of the red brick department store, Purge and
Dowse Ltd., and strode to the display. Mary hesitated for a moment, then squared her shoulders,
facing the dummy in the window.

“I’m here to see Alice and Frank Longbottom,” she said, hoping no one around her would notice
her standing there, talking to a dummy like a lunatic.

The dummy cocked its head at her for a moment, then nodded, beckoning her forward with one
finger. Mary took a deep breath and walked through the glass.

Mary felt her heartbeat increase as she stepped into the reception area of St. Mungo’s Hospital for
Magical Maladies and Injuries, feeling another wave of nostalgia wash over her. This lobby had
grown familiar to Mary after years of meeting Lily, Hestia, Dorcas, and James there after they
finished work. Mary really hoped that Hestia wouldn’t be there today, nor anyone else who would
recognize her, such as Lily’s old coworkers.

Mary had been thinking of visiting Alice ever since she’d heard the news of the attack on the
Longbottoms, and it’d filled her with guilt the longer she’d stayed away. It was the first thing she
wanted to do back in England, though she knew it wouldn’t be easy.

Mary stepped up to the reception desk and cleared her throat softly. The woman looked up at her
from the book she was reading, her gaze expectant.

“I’m here to visit Alice and Frank Longbottom,” Mary said nervously. “Can you tell me where I
might find them?”

The witch nodded, looking down at a list sitting on the desk in front of her, then back up at Mary, a
sympathetic smile on her face. “They’re in ward forty-nine, on the fourth floor,” she replied kindly.
“I should warn you that they most likely won’t recognize you at all. They’ve been through an awful
ordeal, you know.”

“I know,” Mary said, nodding. “Thank you.”

The receptionist gave her a nod, and Mary moved away from the desk. She hesitated for a moment
near the lifts, then bypassed them, deciding to take the stairs instead. Hopefully, she’d run a lower
risk of bumping into someone she wasn’t ready to see there, and if she did, she could at least get
away, rather than being trapped in a lift with them.

Thankfully, Mary reached the landing of the fourth floor without encountering anyone, and she
pushed the door labeled “Spell Damage” open, entering the hallway. She spotted the door labeled
forty-nine almost immediately, but when she tried the handle, she found it locked. Mary knocked
softly on the door, and in a moment, it opened, revealing a Healer in lime-green robes.

“How can I help you?” the Healer asked, her eyes flicking over Mary’s face curiously.

“I was hoping to visit Alice and Frank Longbottom,” Mary explained, her gaze flicking past the
Healer into the room.

The Healer frowned. “I didn’t realize that we were expecting any visitors for them,” she said,
examining Mary up and down again for a moment. “We usually ask that people call in advance to
set up an appointment, given the…circumstances of their admission.”

Mary’s jaw clenched at the euphemism, but she forced her mouth into an apologetic smile. “I’m
sorry, I didn’t know,” she said. “I just got back into the country, you see. I knew Alice and Frank
from school. We—we worked together during the war.”

The Healer’s eyes cleared, and she smiled. “Of course,” she said, her eyes flicking unmistakably
down to the scar on Mary’s cheek. “I should’ve guessed that you were an Auror.”

“Oh, I’m not—” Mary’s words died on her lips, however, as the Healer ushered her inside, giving
Mary a genuine smile for the first time.

Mary decided that it might be better not to correct the faulty impression, not now that the Healer
was much more willing to trust her. And anyway, did it really matter if she was an Auror or not?
She had known Alice and Frank while fighting in the war, after all.

“It’s such a terrible thing,” the Healer gushed, leading Mary toward the end of the ward, where
curtains were drawn around what Mary presumed were Alice’s and Frank’s beds. “Just when we
all thought we were safe, this happened. Poor dears. Their families visit quite often, still, but they
don’t recognize a soul, not even their little baby. He’s a bit off, too, I’d say. I was hesitant, you
know, letting a child in a ward, but I’ve never met a quieter baby. I suppose it’s down to what
happened. He must’ve been in the house at the time, mustn’t he? Poor thing.”

“He was always quiet,” Mary said softly, though the Healer’s words made her feel sick to her
stomach. She hadn’t thought about Neville, hadn’t thought that the Healer must be right, that he
must have been there when the Death Eaters had tortured his mother and father. With any luck,
he’d been tucked away upstairs. Mary hated to think what they would’ve done to him otherwise.

The Healer gave her a rather condescending nod, then snapped open the curtains at the end of the
ward, allowing Mary’s gaze to settle upon the two beds they’d been concealing. On the left sat
Alice, her dark hair longer than Mary had last seen it, laying flat against her head. Her eyes were
open, and she was staring straight ahead of her, her fingers fidgeting with an object in her lap. In
the bed to her right was Frank, turned away from them and looking out the window behind him. He
started when he heard the sound of the curtain being drawn open and looked toward them, but his
gaze flicked over Mary without recognition, and he muttered something softly to himself before
turning back to the window.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” the Healer said cheerfully, gesturing for a seat between the two beds for
Mary to take.

Mary walked numbly toward it and sat, and the Healer yanked the curtains closed again. Mary
heard her footsteps moving away, no doubt returning to her desk at the front of the ward.

Mary glanced toward Frank, behind her, and found that he was still looking out the window. She
turned back to Alice, scooting her chair closer to her bed. She felt a little guilty that she was mostly
here to visit Alice and not her husband, but Mary had never been close to Frank, and if the Healer
was to be believed, neither of them really knew who she was, anyway.

“Hey, Alice,” Mary started, training her gaze on Alice’s face, which was far thinner than Mary last
remembered it looking, her usually rosy cheeks pale and hollow.

Alice didn’t turn to look at Mary, just continued to stare straight ahead, her hands fidgeting with
the object in her lap. When Mary looked more closely at it, her heart sank. It was a baby rattle.
Neville’s baby rattle.

Mary reached across the bed slowly and took Alice’s hand in hers. Alice started slightly at the
contact, but Mary slid her fingers between Alice’s and gave a gentle, comforting squeeze. Her skin
was cold to the touch.

“I’m not sure if you can hear or understand me,” Mary said softly. “The Healer says you can’t, but
I don’t know if I believe that.”
Alice didn’t look at her, but her fingers curled around Mary’s, returning a fraction of her pressure.
Mary inhaled sharply, then smiled. She wasn’t fool enough to believe that Alice knew exactly what
she was saying, but this was proof of something. Alice wasn’t gone completely.

“I’m so sorry for what happened to you,” Mary said, squeezing her friend’s hand.

Alice’s hand twitched in hers, then went still again. Mary swallowed but continued.

“I doubt you remember this, but you once visited me in the hospital when I was attacked, too, a
long time ago,” Mary said, her voice shaking slightly as she thought of that day when she’d only
been fifteen, and Alice sixteen. She remembered the older girl’s fierce expression when she’d
promised Mary that she’d do everything in her power to punish the boys who’d attacked her. Not a
trace of it could be found on Alice’s blank face now.

“It meant a lot to me, you always looking out for me and trying to help, sort of like a big sister,”
Mary added softly. “I wish I could’ve done the same for you when it counted.”

Tears filled her eyes, but Mary blinked them back. This wasn’t about her. She wouldn’t cry now,
not when it might upset Alice, Frank, or any other fragile person on this ward who’d had their lives
stolen from them by magic. Mary took a moment, breathing slowly in silence, matching the pattern
of Alice’s soft exhales. Then, Alice did something Mary would never have expected: she turned
her head. Mary looked up, shocked, to find that though Alice wasn’t looking at her directly, her
eyes had focused on something just above Mary’s head. Her lips worked for a moment, then she
breathed out a single word.

“Neville.”

It was barely a whisper, but when Mary looked down, she saw that Alice’s fingers had clenched
tighter around the baby rattle, her knuckles going white. She wondered who’d given this to Alice,
as Neville hadn’t used a rattle for a long while. But it was enough for Mary to understand what
Alice wanted.

“I’ll look out for him,” Mary promised, sadness flooding through her as she remembered a very
similar promise that she’d made to Lily, the last time she’d ever seen her. Yet this one was one
Mary thought she’d truly be able to keep.

“I promise,” she told Alice, and Alice turned away again, though she didn’t remove her hand from
Mary’s.

Mary stayed there for a long while, holding Alice’s hand in vigil at her bedside before the Healer
returned and said that she should let the two of them rest.

As Mary descended the staircase toward the lobby of the hospital, she caught sight of a familiar
dark head of hair through the little window on the second-floor landing. Her heart jumped into her
throat, but before Hestia could turn, Mary hurried away down the stairs. She couldn’t see her, not
now, not after seeing Alice…perhaps not ever. Mary could face her losses, but she didn’t know
how to face what remained. It wasn’t fair, perhaps, but Mary had to survive. This was how she’d
survive.

Mary made a mental note to look up Augusta Longbottom the next day, to talk to her about visiting
Neville, before striding out of St. Mungo’s back onto the busy street. She stopped outside, looking
left and right, trying to decide where to go. After a moment, she headed off in the direction of the
Leaky Cauldron. She needed somewhere to take a breather.
When Mary reached the pub, she found it bustling, which was surprising for the middle of the day,
and it almost made her turn back. She hesitated at the door, then stepped inside, moving to the bar
to order a butterbeer from Tom, the barman. She sat at the counter to drink it, trying to ignore the
noise around her as she thought about what she’d do now.

Mary had quite a few things to sort out now that she’d returned to Britain. Perhaps she’d stay with
her family in Cornwall, or with Laura if she’d have her, until she made a plan. She’d have to go
back to the Sanctuary—she doubted they’d offer her a job again with how abruptly she’d walked
out on them, but she thought she might be able to get a recommendation for another one. Her boss
had always liked her.

After a few minutes, during which she slowly drained her drink, Mary was startled out of her
thoughts by a voice behind her.

“Mary? Mary Macdonald?”

She turned to see a tall boy with warm brown skin and friendly, dark eyes standing behind her,
grinning in a bemused sort of way. It took a moment for her to place him, then she realized.

“It’s Martin, isn’t it? Martin Simmons?” she asked, the name rising to her lips from a haze of sad
recollections. She didn’t think they’d ever spoken in school, but the events of her fifth year had
made his face and name impossible for her to forget.

“Yeah,” he replied, giving her a tentative smile. “I’m surprised you know me. I was three years
younger than you at Hogwarts, after all.”

“Some people come back more clearly than others,” Mary said, giving him a smile with a tinge of
sadness.

He met her gaze and gave a small, sad shrug. They understood each other.

“What are you up to, these days?” Mary asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Well, I graduated less than a year ago,” he replied, a grin popping back onto his face. “I’m
working at the Ministry now. I was lucky to get in right after school.”

“I doubt that,” Mary said. “You worked hard.”

“Also true,” Martin said, shrugging modestly. “I’m in training to be an Auror.”

“That’s impressive,” Mary replied, trying to push away the pang of loss as she thought of Marlene,
Alice, Frank…and Sirius.

“Thanks,” Martin said brightly. He jerked his head toward a booth in the corner. “You should
come and meet my friends! We’ve all got the day off, so we’re day drinking to celebrate.”

“Why’ve you got the day off?” Mary asked, looking around curiously at all the wizards in the pub,
again wondering why there were so many in the middle of the day.

“Oh, there’s this big issue with the weather at the Ministry today. It’s snowing inside, and no one
knows how to stop it,” Martin said, rolling his eyes. “Apparently even British wizards don’t know
how to deal with snow and cold waves. They gave everyone the day off while Magical
Maintenance figures it out. Anyways, drink?”

“I should probably go,” Mary protested feebly, looking down at her empty glass. None of the
things she had to do sounded very inviting, just then.

“Come on,” Martin said, smiling warmly at her. “We don’t bite.”

Mary shook her head and smiled slightly, relenting. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll stay for one more drink,
I suppose.”

“Great!” Martin said, leading Mary over to a booth in the back. “We all work at the Ministry. This
is Iris, she’s in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She was in
your year in school, I think.”

Iris, who had shoulder-length black hair and bangs now, greeted Mary with a friendly smile.

“I remember,” Mary said. “Iris Liu, right? Hufflepuff?”

“That’s me,” Iris replied. “It’s nice to see you again, Mary. I like your new haircut.”

“Likewise,” Mary said, smiling. “It’s nice to see you, too.”

Martin continued his introductions, pointing at the sandy-haired wizard sitting next to Iris.
“Stephen works in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. He was in the year
above mine, in Ravenclaw.”

Stephen gave Mary a friendly nod, and Mary smiled in return.

“Susan just graduated Hogwarts last year with me, she was also in Ravenclaw, and she’s in the
Department of Mysteries.”

Susan, who had dark brown hair and light brown skin, gave Mary a friendly smile.

“Nice to meet you,” she said.

“You too.”

“Anna,” Martin introduced next, gesturing to a girl with jet-black hair and dark blue eyes, “works
in the Auror office with me. Year above mine, like Stephen, but in Slytherin. We try not to hold it
against her.”

Anna swatted at Martin playfully, and he grinned down at her. As Mary’s eyes fell upon Anna,
however, she felt a bolt of recognition rush through her.

“I remember you,” she said, staring at Anna, her eyes widening. “You worked with James and—”
Mary’s voice caught as if there was a shard of broken glass in her throat, and she swallowed. “And
Lily. You tried to warn us about the attack on Hogsmeade in my seventh year.”

Anna nodded, her face falling as she met Mary’s gaze. “I did,” she said. “I…I was so sorry to hear
the news about their deaths. They were great wizards. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Mary nodded, mentally pushing back against the pressure behind her eyes. “Thank you,” she
replied softly. There was a moment of silence, where the expressions of the group around the table
varied from uncomfortable to curious. Martin shifted awkwardly at Mary’s side, and Mary wished
for a moment that she’d declined his request, that she could go somewhere quiet to hide rather than
endure these strangers’ glances.

“Saving the best for last, Marty?” the wizard on the end joked lightly, breaking the silence, and
Mary’s gaze flicked to him, relief flooding her at the respite his introduction offered. He had
blonde hair and dancing, light blue eyes, and he gave Mary a smile from where he was sitting, next
to Anna.

“And this git,” Martin said, snorting slightly, a touch of humor in his voice, “is Reg. Reg
Cattermole. For no other reason than we were in the same dormitory at Hogwarts, he happens to be
my best mate. Works in Magical Maintenance. Should be at work fixing the weather with the rest
of his department, but he faked sick to slack off with us.”

Martin avoided the kick that his friend Reg aimed at him, laughing.

Mary gave him a smile, hoping she could use it to communicate some of her gratitude to him for
allowing her to escape questions about her dead friends. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Very nice to meet you, too,” Reg replied, giving her a crooked grin.

“Sit down, sit down,” Martin said to Mary. “I’ll go get you a drink.”

“Oh, I can do it,” Mary offered, but he waved her away.

“No, please, let me,” he said, giving her a friendly smile. “I’ll be back in a mo.”

Mary slid into the booth to sit next to Reg Cattermole, who only seemed to be a few inches taller
than her. She removed her coat and folded it in her lap.

“So, where do you work, Mary?” Susan asked, taking a sip of her drink and leaning forward
interestedly.

“Oh, I’ve been out of the country for a few months,” Mary explained sheepishly. “I’ve got to find
something new now I’m back, but I used to work at the West English Hippogriff Sanctuary.”

“That sounds exciting,” Susan returned cheerfully. “What did you do there?”

Mary allowed herself to smile as she began to tell Susan about the Sanctuary, beginning to feel
more relaxed. Perhaps this could be her fresh start.
 1981-1993: Ghosts
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Time was a strange illusion made to taunt those beholden to it, Sirius had decided, though he still
wasn’t sure if he was included in that number any longer. After being thrown into Azkaban, he
found that hours passed differently. Days and weeks bled together in the cold of the prison, the
only constants the sounds around him, which varied little, day in and day out. The rattle of the
Dementors’ breaths, the crash of the waves against the shore, the groan of the metal bars as
someone shook them, and the screams of the other prisoners formed a strange sort of music that
played over and over again, with no beginning and no end.

People sometimes came in and out, breaking the monotony slightly—Ministry officials checking
on the prisoners, or bringing more to join the rest. One day, Sirius caught a glimpse of a familiar
profile, a mess of dark hair, and when the woman turned, he saw her unmistakable grey, heavy-
lidded eyes fix on him. He blinked, not sure if she was really here or if he was seeing things, and
her mouth twisted into a wicked smile before she was tugged past his cell. Sirius heard Bellatrix’s
laughter echo down the corridor as she was dragged away from him.

Others came, too. Sirius recognized some of the prisoners, though others were either strangers to
him or the memory of their faces was lost in misery. The cold seeped into his bones and through
his mind, making him feel dead to the world, a skeleton sitting there, waiting. Waiting. Perhaps
he’d die in there. Perhaps he should.

In the beginning, Sirius had spent most of his time thinking about everything that had happened.
He’d thought of James and Lily, and his last goodbyes to them. Of course, he hadn’t known that
day when he’d left to go into hiding that that would be the last time he ever saw them. He hadn’t
known when he met their gazes, hugged them, and shared a few cautionary words that this would
be the last time he did those things.

Nevertheless, Sirius thought that the goodbyes he’d shared with them had been satisfactory. He
was grateful that he’d told James that he loved him, grateful that he’d gone back for that last hug.
And yet no matter how many hugs he could’ve gone back for, no matter how many words they
could’ve shared, nothing would’ve ever been enough. No goodbye would’ve ever been sufficient,
or lessened the pain of losing James, or Lily. Still, Sirius dwelled on their last moments together
over and over again, trying to savor them, as they were all he had.

Over time, however, Sirius lost those things, too. He retained the memories somewhere in the back
of his mind—he doubted he’d ever lose them—but with the Dementors swooping around all the
time, even these bittersweet memories couldn’t be dwelled on too long. Misery and hopelessness
crowded into their place.

After some immeasurable amount of time, shadowy visitors came to taunt him in his cell. The first
to arrive was Peter, probably because Sirius spent so much of his time thinking of him. He’d gone
over it a million times in his head: the plan, the way he’d walked right into it.

“I didn’t even have to do anything,” Peter’s ghostly image sneered at him. “I counted on you being
self-destructive like you’ve always been. I couldn’t have done it without you, Padfoot.”

“Traitor!” Sirius shouted at him, pacing, his hands tugging at his matted hair. “You were my
friend! You used me. We were the Marauders, and you threw all that away! You killed them!”
His vision of Peter let out a cold laugh, a sound unlike anything Sirius had ever heard the real Peter
make. “No, Sirius,” he said, his voice smooth. “We killed them. You and your anger, your self-
loathing and distrust, you got them killed as much as I did.”

Sirius shook his head, looking away from Peter and toward the corner of the cell, the corner where
he knew he’d eventually curl to shield himself from the phantom Peter’s words, as he’d done
countless times before then.

“Go away,” he said, his voice hoarse and weak. “Go away, please.”

Peter just laughed. “You underestimated me,” he said. “But I always knew who you were. Even
when you thought I didn’t. I knew exactly what you’d do.”

Sirius turned his back on Peter, shaking his head. A part of him knew that it wasn’t real, but day
after day, he believed it less and less. Especially when he started seeing the others.

They came one at a time; the living and the dead forming a steady stream of visitors for him.
Sometimes one would fade into another. There would be Peter, taunting him, trying to make him
snap. Then, Peter would turn into James, saying that he wished that Sirius could’ve been a better
brother to him. James would morph into Lily, holding out a bundle of empty blankets to him.

“What have you done with my son?” she’d demand of Sirius.

Lily repeated the words over and over again until she was screaming at him, and Sirius had to
cover his ears to drown out the noise. Marlene came, too, berating him for being so blind, for
killing Lily and James with his own stupidity. Dorcas followed her, her dark eyes merciless upon
him.

“I figured it out, you know,” she told him, her voice low and suffused with disappointment rather
than anger. “You must know that that’s why I was killed. When I died, I thought that it might be
alright, that someone else would find out it was him and tell people before it was too late. That
could’ve been you, Sirius, but I should’ve known you wouldn’t be good enough.”

Sirius covered his head in his hands and wept. “It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real,” he
whispered to himself. He didn’t believe it.

Sometimes Emmeline and Hestia would weave through, too, Emmeline telling him that she’d
expected more of him, Hestia spitting on him and calling him a coward.

“What are you doing here?” Hestia demanded of him one day. “Sitting in the dark, feeling sorry for
yourself? Do you really think anything you did can be forgiven?”

Mary emerged in short bursts, too, pale as a ghost, the scar on her cheek prominent against her
skin. She never said anything, didn’t even look at him, but she was always weeping. Once, when a
flash of moonlight fell over her face, Sirius saw that her tear tracks were bloody. He screamed, and
she disappeared. For all Sirius knew she could be dead, too. Dead because of him.

Remus was a constant. He never shouted at Sirius, never spoke at all, and at first, Sirius thought
that he preferred Remus to the rest because of it. After a while, however, Sirius realized that
Remus’ presence was a whole different kind of torture. Within the phantom Remus was contained
the knowledge that Sirius was innocent, but also the knowledge of how guilty he really was. Those
blue eyes told him so.

Remus looked at him the way Sirius had imagined Remus looking at him when he’d been sixteen,
before running away from Grimmauld Place: a crease between his brows, blue eyes unreadable, the
corners of his mouth turned down slightly, just waiting for Sirius to do something. But now there
was nothing to be done but stay. Stay, and wait, and go insane. Stay and wait for a trial that, at
some point, even though he’d lost track of time, Sirius accepted would never come. And so he
stayed to punish himself instead.

“I should’ve trusted you,” Sirius would whisper to Remus in the dark, over and over again. “I
shouldn’t have doubted you.”

He screamed it sometimes, but the phantom Remus never responded, only frowned at him. The
silence only made Sirius drown further in his own despair.

“My mother did this,” Sirius said to himself, burying his head between his knees as Remus stood
on the opposite side of the cell, leaning against the wall and looking at him, impassive. “I told
myself she didn’t have any power over me anymore, that I’d taken it from her, but she did this. Lily
was right. I didn’t think I could be loved, so I didn’t trust that you loved me. My dear old mum
taught me that.” Sirius laughed coldly, hollowly. “Maybe she was right.”

Remus said nothing.

Sirius felt the Dementors strip him bare over time. They pilfered the good out of every memory,
every thought, even those that Sirius would’ve thought were empty of joy already. With this, Sirius
was only left with a few options of what to feel: anguish, rage, or self-loathing. Everything was
sharpened to a knife’s point, every complex emotion stripped to its bare bones.

Even the visions of his old friends faded, as part of Sirius found solace in them. In their place,
others made appearances, those he least expected. He was glad to never see his mother or father,
but Regulus came, over and over again, a constant beside him, always there if Remus wasn’t.
Sometimes he appeared as a child, sometimes as the age he’d been when he’d died. Sometimes
both at once.

Regulus’ face twisted in Sirius’ mind over the years, forming something ugly and unrecognizable.
Over the years, all the love Sirius had had for his brother was stripped, too, replaced only by rage
and anguish, twisted and congealed inside of him.

“You were the coward,” Sirius hissed at Regulus in the darkness, a lifetime of built-up resentment
washing through him. “I took so much for you when we were kids, and you never learned. You
never thanked me.”

“Would it have made a difference if I had?” Regulus asked him, standing straight-backed and
proud in the cell, like the aristocrat he’d been. “Did you want to be thanked, Sirius? Wasn’t that
your job, after all, to protect your younger brother? You weren’t very good at it, in the end.”

His voice was bitter, laced with sarcasm with a sting on the end of it. It made Sirius flinch but
didn’t prevent him from shooting back in anger, all the same.

“Your own stupidity killed you, Regulus,” he spat at his younger brother. “I tried to help you so
many times, but you never wanted it. You never listened. You were as bad as the rest of them.”

“You didn’t try hard enough,” Regulus retorted. “You were always selfish, always too busy
thinking about yourself and feeling sorry for yourself to really think about me.”

“Fuck you!” Sirius shouted. “Fuck you; I’m done with you! I cared about you for far too long, and
I’m done! I found a different family!”

“Yes,” Regulus replied smoothly, a sort of cruel humor in his voice which this phantom Regulus
had adopted, though the true Regulus had never had it when he’d been alive—not that Sirius
remembered that, now. “And look what you did to that one. Have you considered that it was you
who poisoned our family, not the other way around?”

“Shut up!” Sirius screamed at his brother, and Regulus dissolved again, leaving Remus in his place,
with his same frown, the same look like he was waiting for Sirius to do something. Sirius crossed
his arms over his knees and rested his head on them, closing his eyes. He didn’t want to see Remus
staring at him. Sometimes he hated him, too.

Over many years, the ghost of Remus waited with Sirius, and Sirius waited to die. He knew that
much time had passed, even if he still couldn’t quantify it. He’d seen people die and be buried
outside his cell. He’d listened to the screams of new prisoners through the walls. He’d heard them
fall silent.

It wasn’t very often that Sirius wondered what was going on in the world outside, but every once in
a while, he’d imagine it. He’d think of Remus, Hestia, Mary, and Emmeline, and wonder what they
were doing with their lives. He imagined them older, imagined that perhaps they’d moved on,
found things to fill the gaps where their old friends had been…where he’d been. He thought of
Harry, older now, growing up without him and going to Hogwarts, to find his own friends and deal
with his own trials. The thought didn’t make Sirius bitter, rather, it made him feel hopeful. Of
course, that hope was quickly extinguished here, like a candle in a rainstorm, but whenever it
came, Sirius clung to it for as long as he could.

Sirius imagined darker possibilities, too, and thought of Remus alone on full moon nights. It was
always strange on those nights, as sometimes he’d still see Remus in his cell, and they’d watch the
moon rise together. He’d never watched a full moon with Remus before, not while Remus was
silent, not plagued by the pain of the transformation. But the silence was guilt, too, as it only made
Sirius remember that the Remus before him wasn’t real, and the real Remus was still out there,
alone and suffering. On those nights, Sirius always transformed into his Animagus form, as if he
could still help Remus as a dog, even if he was hundreds of miles away.

Then there was the day when it all changed. When the now Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge,
visited Azkaban, it was on a day when the wind had calmed, the rain relented, and a patch of
sunlight fell onto the floor of his cell. When the short wizard in his pinstriped cloak stopped next to
Sirius’ cell, peering in at him through the bars, Sirius glanced up and met his gaze.

“Afternoon, Minister,” he said, his voice hoarse from disuse, though he still managed to add a
pleasant note to it.

Fudge hesitated, and from the way that he was looking at Sirius, Sirius knew that he was scared of
him. Sirius almost wanted to laugh. What threat could he be to anyone now?

“Black,” Fudge responded stiffly, standing straighter as if he was building himself up to face Sirius.

Sirius smiled and saw Fudge’s face fall, as if he was disappointed that his show of bravery had
been met with such indifference. Sirius’ gaze flicked to the newspaper under the Minister’s arm
and fought the urge to let out a bitter laugh. Perhaps he’d play with Fudge for a little longer.

“You know what the worst thing about being in here is?” Sirius asked pleasantly.

Fudge frowned. “I’d imagine the Dementors sucking the happiness out of the place isn’t entirely
pleasant,” he responded wryly, and Sirius was almost impressed by the man’s nerve.

Sirius laughed croakily, seeing how the Minister flinched slightly away from the bars as he did so.
“True,” Sirius admitted, smiling. “But I’d say the persistent boredom is actually my least favorite
part. Nothing to do, no one to talk to, nothing to read…” His gaze flicked pointedly down toward
the paper. “Are you finished with that?”

Fudge looked down, confused, before his eyes settled on his newspaper and comprehension
dawned over his face. He looked back up at Sirius, his expression turning hesitant, and Sirius
added: “I miss doing the crosswords, you see.”

There was a wry note in his voice, but Sirius thought that it might be too subtle for Fudge to
recognize it for what it was. Obviously, that wasn’t the real reason Sirius wanted to see the
newspaper. He wanted to see what year it was, to ground himself solidly in time after free-floating
through it for so long. He wanted to know what was going on in the wizarding world without him.
He wanted a glimpse of all that he’d lost, just a small one, which could perhaps sustain him for
however many more hazy years he had until he died here.

The corner of the Minister’s mouth twitched up for a moment, and Sirius was surprised to realize
that Fudge was suppressing a smile. Sirius was actually charming the Minister for Magic. He, a
notorious criminal in the most highly guarded jail in the world, convicted of mass murder, was
charming the Minister for Magic out of his newspaper. Despite the fact that it was what he’d
wanted, Sirius felt a little disconcerted by it, nonetheless. If he’d really done what they said he had,
well, he thought that the Minister should’ve kept his guard up a little more.

“Be my guest,” Fudge said, tossing the paper through the bars at Sirius, who caught it easily. “I
should warn you that the Prophet has been rather boring of late. It may not break your monotony.”

Sirius grinned. “Anything to distract from the screaming,” he said. He knew that his grin had
become too wide, as Fudge was back to looking wary, but Sirius didn’t lose it. Spooking this fool
of a man was the only entertainment he’d had in years.

“Yes, well,” Fudge said, turning away. “I must be off.”

“Thank you, Minister,” Sirius told Fudge’s back, and Fudge looked back once, his brow knitted in
confusion. “For the paper,” Sirius clarified, and Fudge gave a short, uncomfortable nod before
placing his green bowler hat back on his head and striding away. Sirius heard some of the other
prisoners calling to him as he passed, but Fudge didn’t answer any of the rest of them.

Sirius turned to the paper in his hands, devouring it hungrily in the low light filtering through the
bars. It’d been so long since he’d last been able to read anything, he’d almost forgotten how much
he’d loved the act of consuming the meaning from words on a page. He looked at the date first and
felt a wave of shock go through him. It was July 1993. He’d been in Azkaban for nearly twelve
years.

Sirius knew he shouldn’t be surprised, but at the same time, the news hit him like a brick. Twelve
years of torment, twelve years of being haunted by those he’d loved, of having memories twisted
and emotions distorted until he had no idea what was real and what wasn’t. He’d lost a third of his
life here because of Peter…and because of himself.

It took a while for Sirius to tear himself away from dwelling on that horrible thought to look down
at the rest of the articles. He read the headline with little interest: MINISTRY OF MAGIC
EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE. When he looked down at the news story, however, he was
surprised to see that it was about someone he recognized: Arthur Weasley, Fabian and Gideon
Prewett’s brother-in-law. He scanned the news story quickly before looking up at the picture.

In it, Sirius saw an older version of the man he’d met only briefly during his time in the Order.
Arthur was balding now, but he had the same goofy smile on his face that Sirius remembered from
Gideon and Fabian’s pictures of the Weasley family, so many years before. Now, however, Arthur
stood with his partially grown-up sons and daughter, rather than the infants Sirius had seen pictures
of. Next to him stood Molly, her face still nostalgic of her two younger brothers, though slightly
lined now. She beamed at the camera, arm in arm with her husband.

Sirius allowed himself a slight smile, looking down at them. It faded quickly, as all smiles did
these days. Still, Sirius was glad of this: the evidence that the world outside the bars of this prison
had gotten better, and that Molly and Arthur’s children could grow up safer than he had. That
meant that Harry could, too.

Even before the last vestiges of happiness were stolen by the Dementors, however, Sirius’ insides
froze. He was still looking at the picture, but his eyes had caught on one of the redheaded children,
his heart thumping out a panicked beat. On the boy’s shoulder sat a rat, clearly the boy’s pet. An
ordinary sight, perhaps, and yet Sirius knew that this was no ordinary animal, though he didn’t
want to believe that it could be true. He lifted the paper closer to his eyes, scanning over the blurry
image, but no, he wasn’t mistaken. From the rat’s front paw there was a toe missing, one which
Sirius himself had witnessed being cut off many years ago.

“Wormtail,” Sirius breathed, adrenaline flooding through his tired body for the first time in years.

He looked at the caption, finding that the boy was the youngest of the six sons, and scanned back
down the article. There, in the last few lines, Sirius read: The Weasley family will be spending a
month in Egypt, returning for the start of the new school year at Hogwarts, which five of the
Weasley children currently attend.

“Hogwarts,” Sirius whispered, letting the newspaper fall to the floor, and staring blankly at the
wall opposite him.

It was 1993…Harry would be nearly thirteen-years-old now, ready to start his third year at the
school where Sirius had spent so much of his growing years. Apparently, his old friend Peter
would be returning there too, on the first of September, unbeknownst to everyone except him.
Laying in wait, perfectly positioned to act if he decided the time was right.

Sirius remembered the day that Harry had been born, remembered holding him in his arms and Lily
and James appointing Sirius his godfather. He remembered the feeling that had washed over him,
the certainty that he’d do everything in his power to protect Harry from whatever the world could
throw at him. He remembered, too, the night of Lily and James’ deaths, a memory he’d been
replaying in his mind for too many years. He’d given Harry over to Hagrid, told the half-giant to
take care of him, trusted that he could. Still, no one knew what Sirius did. No one could protect
Harry in this moment other than Sirius, and he’d promised them. Lily and James’ faces swam
across Sirius’ vision for the first time in years.

He blinked, and Remus’ ghostly face looked back at him from across the cell, staring at him with
the look that Sirius had memorized, the one that Remus had been fixing him with for twelve years.
Waiting. Waiting for Sirius to do something.

“Okay,” Sirius said finally. “You win. I’m going to get out of here.”

END OF PART II
Chapter End Notes

Ahhh!!! Part II is over! This is truly the end of the Marauders’ Era (I mean, duh, half
of them are dead).

I think I’ll be taking a brief (one or two week) hiatus after this chapter before part III,
just to get more of part III down before I start editing and posting it, so I have a more
cohesive narrative for it. Part III will be the last part, and the shortest, with more
narrative gaps. Mostly, it’ll be to give closure on characters and their relationships, as
I’m not wanting to rewrite a bunch of the plot points that we all already know from the
books from a different perspective—that’s not really my thing. The vast majority of
chapters will have either Remus' or Sirius' point of view. And yes, it will pick up from
1993, as I won’t be covering the time between the wars, except with references and
perhaps flashbacks.
 Part III - 1993: Time (Doesn't Love You Anymore)
Chapter Notes

You may or may not have noticed from the chapter count, but there is an end in sight!
That’s right, this fic will be 105 chapters (unless I get too long-winded toward the end
but so far it’s looking like 105), so buckle up for the last push. I’m gonna be real with
you, I’m basically clawing my way to the finish line due to an unlucky combination of
burnout, hyperfixation on a new fandom, and the fact that I ran out of the only ADHD
meds that work for me and can’t refill them because they’re not covered by my new
health insurance. I hate the medical-industrial complex.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

On the last day of July 1993, Remus walked down the London streets, his jacket pulled around him
tightly to shield him against the light, insistent drizzle. His hair was tinged with grey now, his face
more lined than it’d been twelve years before, and having acquired a few new scars upon it from
the years of full moon transformations without his friends’ Animagi forms to watch over him. He’d
also developed a slight limp, produced by the continuous dislocation and healing of his left knee
since the age of seventeen. His clothes were patchy and frayed, many of them acquired secondhand
or else remnants of his younger self, worn down by a decade of use and misuse.

Remus guessed that a passerby looking at him on the street might think that he was in his mid-
forties, rather than his early thirties. Perhaps it was the years he’d spent with persistent loneliness
that had aged him, or perhaps this had happened the moment that everything had fallen apart
twelve years before. The rest had just been the aftermath: the years just an echo of that one day in
1981. The nightmares, the lack of sleep, the transformations, the empty side of the bed, and the
memories.

Yet only a few days ago, Remus had had something that felt urgent happen for the first time in
many years, something that made him quicken his pace down the street, that made him intent on
his destination. When he arrived at the small coffee shop in Westminster, he only had to glance
through the windows to immediately spot Emmeline Vance’s thoughtful profile, looking down as
she read the paper with a frown on her face.

Remus felt a mix of fondness and anxiety pass over him at the sight of her, a familiar feeling after
all this time. He opened the door of the little cafe and walked in, making a bee-line toward the table
where she was sitting. It was only when he pulled back the chair across from her that she looked
up, the frown on her face transforming into a relieved smile at the sight of him.

“Remus,” she greeted him, dropping the paper to the table as he sat down. She folded it and stowed
it into her bag, which was hanging from her chair, but not before Remus caught sight of the picture
on the front. Sirius.

“Hey, Em,” Remus replied, giving her a small smile in return. They didn’t hug in greeting; they’d
never been very close before everything that had happened twelve years ago, and after it…well,
neither of them felt much like pretending that it could be completely normal with them again.

Still, Emmeline and Remus had kept in touch as much as old friends could after everything they’d
been through together. Their meetings in the years since the war were few and far between, but
they’d made a point not to lose touch entirely. Some years, they had tea every couple of months,
while in others, they only met once. Still, it felt important to Remus not to be estranged from one
another, and it seemed that this was true for Emmeline, too. They’d gone through something that
most others wouldn’t be able to relate to, after all, and though it sometimes hurt to be reminded of
it, perhaps they also needed to be.

Once in a while, Hestia tagged along to their little get-togethers, as Emmeline and Hestia had
stayed roommates—and close friends, as far as Remus could tell—since the war had ended. Still,
Hestia and Remus’ relationship felt more impersonal than even Emmeline and Remus’. Perhaps it
was just due to a natural difference in their temperaments, but Remus had always suspected that
Hestia might still hold some resentment toward him for Sirius’ involvement in James’, Lily’s, and
Peter’s deaths. Neither Emmeline nor Hestia had ever expressed the sentiment to Remus, but
Remus imagined it was hard not to blame him for not knowing. He certainly blamed himself.

“Was that the Daily Prophet?” Remus asked, nodding toward Emmeline’s bag, where she’d
stowed the paper.

Emmeline frowned slightly as if she wasn’t sure she’d wanted to bring this topic up so quickly in
their meeting. Still, they both knew that this was the reason she’d phoned him, that there had been
no coincidence in the timing of this particular reunion. There was no use beating around the bush.

“No,” Emmeline answered, her lips pursing slightly as she gazed across at him, obviously
searching his face for a reaction. “It was a Muggle paper. I saw the front page on the way here.
Looks like the Ministry’s told the Muggle authorities to keep an eye out for him, too.”

Remus nodded. He’d seen Sirius everywhere for twelve years, yet now it wasn’t just in his head, in
the flash of a stranger’s smile or a head of long, dark hair disappearing around a corner. Now, it
was really Sirius, as his face was plastered across billboards, on the TV, and, of course, on the
front of every newspaper from here to Scotland.

“Yeah, I noticed that in my walk over, too,” Remus said. “It’s good, I suppose. I mean…” He had
to choke out the following words: “He needs to be caught, after all. Before he does any more
damage.”

Emmeline gave him a look that Remus was tired of seeing. A look that, if it’d had a voice,
would’ve said: Oh, Remus. Remus hated it because he knew he wasn’t being convincing, and she
knew it, too. It was the kind of look that made him wonder why Emmeline even wanted to speak to
him, and understand why Hestia stayed away most of the time…why Mary stayed away entirely.

Luckily, he was saved whatever Emmeline’s response would’ve been by the waitress arriving at
their table, notepad in hand. He looked up to see a girl of no more than seventeen, looking down at
them expectantly, her dishwater blonde hair pulled back in a frizzy ponytail.

“What’ll it be?” she asked, and Remus could hear in her voice that she was trying to suppress her
thick Cockney accent to appeal to the patrons from this more upper-class neighborhood.

“Just some Earl Grey for me, please,” Remus said.

The girl nodded and jotted it down, looking expectantly over at Emmeline.

“Black tea for me, thanks,” Emmeline said, smiling at the girl. “And we’ll get a couple of scones,
too, please.”

The waitress gave them a nod, then dashed away again. Remus gave Emmeline a rather
exasperated look across the table, which she only returned with an innocent smile.

Emmeline did this sort of thing every time they met, and, over the years, Remus had stopped
arguing with her about it. She always wanted to feed him, always wanted to pay, always wanted to
go to a place with nice tea and pastries while he tried to offer up a cafe more off the beaten track.
Eventually, Remus had just given in. Every time he felt a twinge of guilt or resentment over it, he
just reminded himself that Emmeline still had her nice job at Oxford, while Remus…well, it varied
month by month what he could scrounge up in terms of paid work.

“I don’t understand how he could’ve done it,” Emmeline said, leaning toward Remus and resuming
their earlier conversation that the waitress had interrupted. It seemed her shock over the news had
outweighed her earlier reluctance to upset him with the topic. “Azkaban is supposed to be a
fortress. It’s not supposed to be possible to break out. Sirius was always a brilliant wizard, but still,
he didn’t have a wand, and no one’s ever escaped before.”

Remus hummed assent under his breath, then nodded his thanks to the waitress as she hurried back
with their steeping pots of tea, placing them down on the table with two mugs, two cream pitchers
alongside them, and a plate of scones in the center.

“There are many things about the situation that don’t make sense, Emmeline,” Remus replied
finally after the girl had ducked away from their table again. “I’m not sure we’ll ever get proper
answers.”

Emmeline regarded him in her usual steady, evaluating way, though Remus fancied that he still
saw a tinge of pity in her eyes. “None of it ever made sense,” she said softly.

Remus looked down at his tea, thinking about how it was just another part of the puzzle of Sirius
that he could never figure out how to fit together. Still, he didn’t want to have another of these
conversations.

Remus had had them enough over the years, with every person who recognized him on the street,
everyone who’d known Sirius from school and who remembered that they’d been friends. He’d
been the one left behind, and therefore he was the one everyone exclaimed to, the one everyone
had to rehash their surprise to, had to say, “I never would’ve guessed it!” as if Remus hadn’t heard
it a million times. It was like a twisted form of a funeral, where everyone filed past him giving their
condolences, but instead, they shared their shock as if it was a twist at the end of a mystery movie,
or an unexpected punchline of a joke.

He’d never had that conversation with Emmeline before. She’d had the tact to spare him it when
everything had first happened, he supposed, but it looked like he’d have to endure it now. Still,
what came out of her mouth next wasn’t what he’d expected.

“If I’m honest with you, I was never convinced that he actually did what Dumbledore said,”
Emmeline said.

Remus’ head jerked up so quickly that he felt as if he had whiplash, his gaze fixing intently on
hers. She looked back at him thoughtfully, no jest in her steady brown gaze.

“What?” Remus demanded, then immediately lowered his voice once he noticed the other people
in the cafe looking around at them curiously. “You think—you think he didn’t do it?”

Emmeline gave a small shrug. “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s just, well, why would he have
betrayed us? What was the motive? He hated everything to do with the Dark Arts, hated those
Slytherin boys who became Death Eaters more than almost any of us. Even after everything, I
could never picture Sirius sitting shoulder to shoulder with those tossers.”

“But—” Remus said, searching around for something to say. “But he was Secret Keeper. And the
witnesses—”

“I don’t pretend to know how it all fits together.” Emmeline sighed, shaking her head and leaning
back slightly in her chair. “That’s why I never said anything. I know what the evidence says; I’ve
known it for years. But you can know something and not believe it, you know?”

Remus felt a rush of disappointment go through him, and he glanced down at his tea, watching the
color from the tea leaves seep into the hot water.

“Yeah,” he replied quietly. “Yeah, I know.”

He’d almost hoped that Emmeline would have something to contradict him, something he could
use whenever he argued with himself about the topic, a single piece of evidence that would allow
him to reconcile the facts with the feelings. But of course, he couldn’t expect that of her. They’d all
been in the dark, after all.

“Do you think Dumbledore told us the whole truth about what happened?” Emmeline mused,
pouring some tea into her mug and adding cream and sugar.

“You never know with Dumbledore,” Remus said, reaching out to mirror her movements as the
memory of the headmaster’s visit just the day before itched at his mind. Old resentment bloomed
in him at the thought of the man.

“It’s Harry’s birthday today,” Remus said off-handedly. Emmeline glanced up, her gaze thoughtful
for a moment, then nodded. Remus felt a little sheepish but continued: “Every year when July 31st
comes around, I think about him. I wonder how he’s doing, and I…well, I get furious all over
again. After all these years, Dumbledore still refuses to let us see him. I know that he says he’s just
doing it to protect Harry, but I hate it all the same.”

Remus thought of the years he’d spent trying to find Harry against the Headmaster’s wishes, the
questions that had all turned up with nothing, only the conclusion that whatever protection
Dumbledore had put over Lily and James’ son was certainly formidable.

“I’ve always hated Dumbledore for that decision,” Emmeline agreed, a note of bitterness clouding
her usual calm tone, her eyebrows drawing together in a frown. “Especially given the way that Lily
used to talk about her sister. Petunia hated magic, and she blamed Lily for having it. I want to think
that she’s changed over the years, but I wish we could just know that he was alright. If nothing
else, that might be enough.”

Remus knew it wouldn’t be enough for him, but he didn’t say it. Instead, he took a sip of his tea,
looking out of the window toward the grey sky thoughtfully. He hadn’t been sure when to break
the news that had been on the tip of his tongue since he’d sat down at the table, but perhaps this
was as good a time as any.

“Dumbledore offered me the Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching post at Hogwarts this year,”
he said, looking back to her across the table.

Emmeline’s eyes shot up to his face in surprise. “What!? When?” she demanded.

“He turned up on my doorstep yesterday,” Remus admitted, taking another calming sip of his tea,
then setting it down on its saucer and looking up to meet her gaze.
Emmeline’s surprised expression quickly turned into a frown. “Is he doing it because of Sirius’
escape, then?” she asked him angrily. “Does he think you’ll have secrets to tell that’ll help them
catch him or something?”

“I don’t know,” Remus replied, shrugging. “He denied it.”

“Of course he did,” Emmeline gave a soft snort, and shook her head. She raised the cup of tea to
her lips again and took a long gulp of it, then looked back to Remus. “Isn’t that job cursed,
anyway? No D.A.D.A. teacher ever lasted longer than a year when we were in school.”

“I don’t really know,” Remus replied, giving a small shrug of his shoulders.

Emmeline narrowed her eyes at him, tilting her head slightly to one side. Remus felt it was rather
eerie, and something she’d no doubt picked up from Hestia after all these years: the talent of
reading people.

“You’re going to take it anyway, aren’t you?”

Remus sighed, quirking a tired half-smile. “I haven’t given him my answer officially yet,” he
admitted. “I was too angry with him showing up on my doorstep after all these years. But…yes, I
think I will. I think I have to.”

“You don’t have to,” Emmeline replied, frowning. Remus raised his eyebrows at her in slight
exasperation.

“You must know what it’s been like for me for all these years, Em,” he said, trying to fight the
impatience in his voice. He gestured to himself, trying to indicate his shabby clothes and
prematurely aging appearance. “I mean, look at me. Dumbledore hasn’t just offered me a job, he’s
offered me a supply of Wolfsbane Potion, and he’s offered me a chance to get to know Harry,
something he’s been keeping from all of us for twelve whole years.”

Emmeline’s frown deepened. “It’s wrong of him,” she insisted. “It’s wrong to take advantage of
you like this. Wrong to offer you these things that you should’ve had in the first place to take up a
dangerous position so he can use you to try and catch your—”

She stopped, and Remus was glad of it. He didn’t want to hear what label she might use for what
Sirius was to him. He’d stopped trying to explain it to people himself, as no label really captured it.
To call Sirius an ex was so trivial. To say that he was the love of Remus’ life, while perhaps the
closest to the truth Remus could get, sounded dramatic, and also traitorous. He was just Sirius.

“Perhaps it’s wrong of him,” Remus admitted. “But wrong or not, I can’t refuse. Lily and James
wanted me to know Harry.” He said it with such finality that Emmeline didn’t argue, and he knew
that she knew he was right, anyway. He had to believe that she would’ve done the same in his
position.

They sat in silence for a minute as they both sipped their tea thoughtfully. It was Remus who
finally broke it. “How’s Hestia doing?”

Emmeline shrugged. “Same as ever,” she said. “Long hours at St. Mungo’s, as usual.”

“And you?” Remus asked, trying to push away the intrusive thought that James and Dorcas both
should’ve been working alongside Hestia as Healers, too, if they’d still been alive.

“I’m well,” Emmeline said, giving a small smile. “Same as ever until a few days ago. The news of
the escape threw me, I’ll admit. It brought a lot of old memories to the surface.”
“Mm-hm,” Remus murmured in agreement.

A flash of red hair out of the corner of his eye made him look up, and he watched as a middle-aged
woman strode past the window of the coffee shop, her dyed tresses done up in a bun. When he
looked back, he saw Emmeline studying him carefully.

“You see them, too, don’t you?” she asked, and he was surprised to see the hint of a smile on her
face, sad as it might be.

“Everywhere,” Remus admitted, knowing exactly what she meant.

Emmeline glanced out the window again toward the back of the woman that Remus had been
watching, then looked down thoughtfully into her tea.

“It’s been twelve years,” she said. “And yet sometimes I still turn around and expect to see Lily
next to me, or Dorcas, Marlene, or Mary. I hear a joke, and all I can think is that I need to tell it to
James. Someone on a motorbike passes me, and for a moment I think it’s Sirius.”

“They haunt us,” Remus said dully. “They’ll never leave us be.”

“I’m not sure I want them to,” Emmeline said, giving him another unexpected, soft smile.
“Sometimes when I feel like they’re still here, it comforts me as much as it scares me.”

Remus bit his lip, then nodded. “I know the feeling,” he said as the soft sound of a woman’s voice
filled his ears, haunting and sweet from many years ago, singing a lullaby. It wasn’t just his friends
who’d haunted him all these years, and Emmeline was right: it wasn’t all bad.

....

When Remus returned to his flat that afternoon after bidding Emmeline goodbye, he wasn’t
altogether surprised to find Alaric there, sitting on the couch and eating from a bag of crisps he’d
clearly pilfered from Remus’ pantry. He looked up and gave Remus a sarcastic smile as he came
in.

“You look like shit,” Alaric commented as Remus hung his jacket on a hook and removed his
boots.

Remus rolled his eyes, flicking the other man the bird. “You need to stop letting yourself in,”
Remus said, the grumpiness in his voice mostly play-acting. “And it’s two days from the full
moon, so you look about as shitty as I do.”

Alaric gave a shrug, his chin held with a self-satisfied tilt. “Should’ve asked me to give my key
back if you wanted privacy,” he said, smirking. “Came to check on you, anyway, with everythin’
that’s been going on.”

Remus let out a soft snort. “Oh, you’re just fishing for more information, don’t deny it.”

He moved over toward Alaric and grabbed the crisp bag from his hands, digging around in it and
stuffing a handful in his mouth. Alaric gave him a cheeky smile, like that of a younger brother
caught nosing around where he shouldn’t be.

“Can be fishin’ and concerned at the same time, ya know,” he said, and Remus shook his head,
rolling his eyes as he crunched loudly on his crisps. Still, he wasn’t really frustrated with Alaric.

This was what their relationship had settled into for the past twelve years. They’d figured out
slowly, in starts and stops, how to rely on one another when their interactions didn’t involve
passing information or risking their necks, and though there were still many subjects that both men
took turns skirting around from their pasts, it’d become just another game to tease it out of the
other. The kiss in 1981 had been the first and last of its kind, left behind and not much spoken
about, as Remus knew that Alaric had regretted doing it, and Alaric knew that Remus wasn’t about
to demand an explanation and didn’t hold any false impressions over what it’d meant.

“Where’s El, then?” Remus asked, walking over to the kitchen and replacing the bag of crisps in its
proper cabinet. “Why aren’t they here to pester me as well?”

“Might come over later,” Alaric replied. “They reckon you need space. I say you need to be
clobbered so you stop bottlin’ it up like a hot air balloon.”

Remus groaned, leaning forward to rest his slightly pounding head on the cool surface of the wood
of the cabinet before straightening again. Fifteen years after Remus had first met Alaric, he still had
all the subtlety of a blunt ax. Of course, Remus saw more of Alaric’s moments of gentleness these
days, too, though El still got far more than he did.

That had been another slow development that Remus had witnessed over the course of the last
twelve years: El shouldering their way into Alaric’s affections. It’d been happening for much
longer, of course, but Remus hadn’t recognized it for what it’d been back then. When he’d finally
seen it, it’d been one of the first times that Remus really felt like he understood Alaric, after all
those years of knowing him. Perhaps he’d just been too daft to notice before, but Remus wasn’t
Lily, and he’d never claimed to be good at guessing others’ sexualities. He’d had enough trouble
figuring his own out, after all.

“I like El’s approach better,” Remus said, finally slumping down next to Alaric on the couch.

Alaric snorted and gave him a sharp kick with his good leg, which made Remus groan again and
cringe away from him.

“I would’ve given you space if you’d written back to me, ya tosser,” Alaric said. “You left me with
no choice but to haul myself over ‘ere.”

Remus sighed and closed his eyes. Alaric had written him the very night that the news of Sirius’
escape had come out, before the papers had even gotten wind of it. Of course, they’d all heard
immediately, with the circles they ran in. He hadn’t written much, just asked Remus to come over
to the flat that he and El shared in the eastside for a drink. Remus had known that he’d hear about
it later when he ignored the letter, but he really hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone that night.

“Oi,” Alaric said, giving him a gentler nudge in the side with his foot again. Remus opened his
eyes and looked at Alaric, who was peering at Remus with a rare, soft expression on his face. “You
alright?”

Remus sighed and shook his head. “What do you think?”

Alaric regarded him neutrally. “I don’ need you to tell me everything if you don’ wanna,” he said
seriously. “But I’m here if you wanna talk, ya know.”

Remus nodded and closed his eyes again tiredly. He did tell Alaric some of it, then, achingly
slowly. He told him a bit about his conversation with Emmeline, about her saying she’d never
believed that Sirius was the spy, about Dumbledore’s offer, about how Remus hadn’t known what
to think or feel or what to do with himself over the past days. He told Alaric about the conflicting
anger and grief and traitorous gladness that had fought in his brain, because now at least Remus
didn’t have to think of Sirius suffering in Azkaban anymore. Alaric listened silently, eyes trained
on Remus without judgment or reaction. That was one of the best things about Alaric: nothing
Remus told him ever seemed to shake him. And no matter what Remus said, Alaric never looked at
him like he was a horrible person.

When Remus was finished, Alaric nodded his head for a moment, seeming to think, then said
simply: “Maybe this’ll get you answers, at least, after all these goddamn years.”

Remus sighed and nodded, his gaze moving to fix on the photographs lined up along his wall for a
moment, ones that held so much of his heart. Perhaps Alaric was right.

....

The morning after the full moon, Remus woke on a bare cot with every joint in his body aching.
He groaned and rolled over, then fell onto the floor. Remus swore colorfully and opened his eyes,
the room coming blurrily into focus.

“You really are a menace in the mornin’, Lupin,” grumbled a voice to his left, and Remus looked
over to find Alaric pulling a shirt over his bare chest and zipping up his fly.

El, already fully dressed, gave Remus a sympathetic smile, sitting on the cot near where Alaric
stood. They stood to grab a stack of clothes, offering it to him. Remus winced as he reached up to
grab the garments, but gave El what he hoped was a grateful smile and not a grimace.

As he pulled on the clothes, Remus took note of new injuries and old ones. “Your knee didn’
dislocate again, did it?” Alaric asked as Remus winced, pulling himself up from the floor.

Remus shook his head. “Don’t you think I’d be making more noise if it had?” he asked weakly.

Alaric shrugged, and El pulled a half-smile, the two sharing a look.

It was always strange to see them together: El was tall and lean, Alaric shorter and stocky. Alaric’s
pale skin showed every bump and bruise from the night before, while El’s darker skin was smooth
and gave nothing away. El’s dark hair was buzzed close to their skull while Alaric’s mop of dirty
blond hair hung unevenly, almost touching his shoulders. Alaric was slouched and leaning due to
his injured leg, while El stood with their head held high, back straight. Yet they stood there side by
side, both looking at Remus with similar expressions of slight amusement on their faces.

“You’re right stoic sometimes, Remus,” El said, shrugging their slender shoulders. “Usually when
you’re whingin’ it means you’re doin’ alright.”

Remus rolled his eyes as he finished dressing, joints popping as he moved around, trying to ignore
the ache as he attempted to warm up his sore body. He didn’t always transform with El and Alaric,
but he always regretted it when he refused their help, as being alone on full moon nights
guaranteed him more injuries. They were smart about it, too, he had to admit, and even more so
with his help. El and Alaric didn’t use as much magic as Remus, as Alaric had dropped out of
Hogwarts after his fifth year, and El had never attended in the first place, but they managed to cast
a good boundary spell around the large patch of forest they’d chosen to spend their full moons in,
far from anyone who might come across them. This cabin lay in the center: a place to retreat to at
the end of the night. Remus never remembered coming back here, but every full moon he stayed
with them, they always ended up on the cots before morning.

“Suppose I should head out,” Remus said, thinking of the pain relief potions he’d stored under his
sink in his flat. El and Alaric had their own, but he wouldn’t use their stock.
“You could stay for a cuppa first,” El suggested. “Maybe not the best thing to apparate right after
the moon.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Remus said, waving off El’s offer politely. “Thanks, though.”

“Take care of yourself, Lupin,” Alaric said, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

Remus nodded and gave him a small smile. “You too,” he said, and El gave a small smirk and a
nod.

“I’ll take care o’ this one, even if he won’ for ‘imself,” they said, and Alaric flicked them the bird
as Remus laughed.

When he left the cabin, Remus walked a short distance before it was safe to apparate, outside of the
boundary spell, and appeared moments later in the hallway to his flat. More caution was usually
appropriate, but Remus was tired, and he ached all over. Still, he wasn’t expecting someone to be
waiting on his doorstep.

Hestia turned at the small pop that signaled his apparition, and her mouth fell open with slight
surprise as she looked him up and down, clearly taking in his haggard appearance. There were
worry lines creasing her forehead, and they deepened as her gaze flitted over his form.

“Sorry,” she said after a moment’s silence where they just stared at one another. “I didn’t realize
the full moon was last night. I should’ve asked before visiting.”

“S’alright,” Remus said, still blinking at her as if she might disappear at any moment. He only
noticed the two to-go cups in her hands just then, and she looked down at them herself as if
surprised that she was still carrying them.

“I brought tea,” she said, holding them up unnecessarily, a very awkward look on her face. “You
still like Earl Grey, right?”

“Yeah,” Remus said, surprised, though perhaps he shouldn’t have been. It took the thought of tea to
move him out of his temporary freeze, and he stepped toward the door of his flat.

“You’re welcome to come in,” he said, and she gave him a slight, grateful smile tinged with
embarrassment as she stepped aside to let him unlock the door.

When he got it open, Remus limped into the flat with Hestia trailing behind him. She locked the
door without him having to ask, taking off her shoes and placing them neatly alongside his before
following him into the sitting room. Remus remembered the pain relief potions again as he reached
it and wondered for a moment whether it would be rude to leave Hestia out here while he took
them. He turned to look at her and found her scanning her surroundings with a curiously sad look in
her dark brown eyes.

“What?” Remus asked slightly defensively.

Hestia started and gave him a sheepish look. “Nothing,” she said, moving over to the couch and
placing the two cups down on the coffee table before glancing up around the flat once more. Her
eyes fixed for a moment on the wall to the left of his bookshelf, looking at the photographs he’d
hung there, he guessed. “I just haven’t been here since…”

A rush of cold realization chilled Remus to the bone as he remembered that the last time Hestia
must’ve entered the flat it’d been his and Sirius’. Well, it’d always belonged to Sirius, really, not to
Remus. Still did, in fact, but no one had said anything about Remus staying there. Perhaps he
would’ve moved if he’d had the money to, but because Remus didn’t have to pay rent for this
place, and Alphard had apparently Confunded the building manager decades ago to keep from
having to pay his building fees, it was about his only option, other than moving back in with his
father.

“Oh,” Remus said, his heart sinking in his chest. This was perhaps not a good start to whatever
conversation Hestia had come to have with him.

Still, Remus thought with a rush of sudden annoyance. It’s not like I invited her here. She just
turned up. It’d been a careful choice to meet Emmeline on neutral ground all these years and they
both knew it. Hestia, unlike her friend, had far less tact with these sorts of things. The thought
brought a reluctant rush of affection with it.

“Be back in a second,” Remus muttered, and Hestia nodded, still gazing around the flat as if she
was cataloging all the changes he’d made in the past dozen years, which, knowing her, was
probably exactly what she was doing.

Remus limped over to the loo and closed the door behind him, wincing as he bent his knees to look
down under the sink. He grabbed a potion and uncapped it gratefully, downing the liquid in one go.
These pain potions were expensive—though nothing compared to the price of Wolfsbane, which
was far too costly to even bother dreaming of acquiring on his own—so Remus had to go without
them when money ran low. Luckily, Remus still had a decent stock he’d purchased when he’d been
able to hold down a Muggle job for six months. Unfortunately, he’d gotten fired from that one after
the last full moon had kept him out of work for longer than his designated days of sick leave had
lasted.

The potion kicked in almost immediately, and Remus breathed out a sigh of relief as the ache in his
joints ebbed slightly. He rose to his feet again, tossing the empty potion bottle into the trash and
closing the cabinet under the sink. Taking a deep breath, he exited the bathroom to rejoin Hestia.

She was still sitting on the couch, her back to him and her cup of tea left untouched on the coffee
table. He walked over to sit beside her, and she moved her legs to let him pass. Once he sat, she
handed him his tea, and he gave her a grateful smile. Taking a sip, he felt himself relax, realizing as
he did so that she’d gotten the exact amount of sugar and milk right, too. So Hestia Jones was
apparently still as good as ever at reading people and hadn’t forgotten a thing.

“I’m sorry for just turning up here,” Hestia apologized again, taking a sip of her own tea as she
watched him. Remus gave a slight shrug, indicating that it was no big deal. “I wanted to come
along with your tea with Em, you know,” Hestia continued after a pause.

Remus paused in lifting his tea to his lips again and raised his eyebrows at her. “Why didn’t you?”
he asked nonchalantly.

Hestia shrugged and looked down at her hands. “Wasn’t sure if you would’ve wanted me there,”
she said. “Em’s good at making people feel better. I’m…well, I’m not quite as measured as she is
in a crisis.”

“I didn’t need anyone to calm me down or make me feel better,” Remus replied, trying to shove
away the prickle of annoyance that rose in him at her words. Is that what she thought, that he was a
porcelain doll, cracking from the news? He wasn’t cracking…well, not really.

“Yeah, well, I have, these past few days,” Hestia admitted. “Perhaps I didn’t want Emmeline to
have to take care of me while she was supposed to be catching up with you. She told me what you
talked about, though.”
Remus raised his eyebrows in slight surprise. “Which part?”

“About none of it making sense,” Hestia said, beginning to speak more quickly, as if she was
finally coming to what had brought her here. “It never did to me either. Sometimes I still lay awake
at night driving myself crazy trying to figure it out, after spending days just trying not to think
about it. It feels like the truth is just out of reach, so close I could touch it but it keeps receding
from me. But Emmeline and I…well, we never spoke about it much after. There was so much
pain, I suppose neither of us wanted to dwell on it more than we had to. But I suppose it was some
kind of relief, after all these years, hearing that it wasn’t just me who the questions drove crazy.”

Remus nodded slowly, taking her words in. Hope blossomed inside of him, much as he tried to
stamp it down, tried to trap it inside his chest like a caged bird. He took another sip of tea, then told
her: “I suppose I thought you and Emmeline never questioned it,” he said. “That you didn’t want to
talk about it because—”

“I never blamed you,” Hestia interrupted him, predicting what he was going to say before the
words reached his lips. She shook her head, reaching out her hand as she did to clasp his, gaze
earnest upon him. “Nor did Emmeline. Not for Sirius. Not for any of it.”

She looked down, a flicker of shame crossing her face. “That wasn’t why I didn’t keep in touch as
much as Em,” she said. “Sometimes, it just felt too—too painful. And I didn’t know if you even
wanted to see me.”

Remus let out a long breath, feeling as if a weight had been lifted that he hadn’t even quite known
was there. He knew well the pain that she spoke about, and really, he couldn’t blame her for
thinking that he hadn’t wanted to see her, either. In the first years after the war, he hadn’t been the
friendliest of companions whenever he saw either woman.

He gave a slight, sarcastic half-smile. “I would’ve blamed me if I were you,” he said sardonically.
“I blame myself for not knowing.”

“Whenever I think about that time, I remember how it felt, with all that confusion and fear and
pain,” Hestia said, shaking her head. “None of us knew what was up and what was down, what was
true or what was a lie, or who to trust. I don’t know how any of us could’ve seen what was going
on clearly with all of that. We never had all of the information, either.”

“No, I suppose we didn’t,” Remus said, Hestia’s description calling his own memories of that time.
It was like a haze, a whirlwind of emotion and confusion, and looking back into it was like trying
to see into the eye of a tornado.

“It made me think about something else, though, Remus,” Hestia said, taking a deep breath and
looking him straight in the eye. “Something I regret holding back because I wish we’d all just told
each other the truth instead of letting Dumbledore, Moody, and Dearborn keep us in the dark.”

Remus’ brow furrowed as she reached for her bag. “What do you mean?”

Hestia rummaged for a moment, then pulled out what looked like a bit of very old parchment, worn
around the edges and folded in two. She straightened and turned toward him, holding it out to him
without a word. Remus frowned but took the parchment and unfolded it carefully, holding it up to
read. It was a short note, but the familiar curling handwriting made Remus’ heart pound like a
drum as soon as he glanced at it.

Hestia,
Come to my flat. I need help with my investigation, urgently. You’re the only one who might be
able to confirm what I think I know.

Dorcas

Remus had to read it several times to take in the meaning of the words, and once he’d finished, he
looked up to Hestia in earnest, demanding an explanation. “What’s this? What does this mean?”

Hestia’s brown eyes were shining with tears. “It’s the last thing Dorcas ever wrote me,” she said,
blinking rapidly as if to prevent herself from crying. “I got it the night she died—came home from
a shift at St. Mungo’s to find Avellana in my flat with the note. I went to Dorcas’ immediately, of
course, but by the time I got there, it was too late.”

Remus inhaled a sharp breath, the memory of that night cutting him like a blade. Sirius had arrived
at the scene just after Hestia, he knew, responding to her SOS message. Remus had gone to wait
with Lily and James for news, believing that Sirius was more likely to go to them first rather than
fulfilling his promise to tell Remus as soon as he knew what had happened. Still, there had been a
part of that night that Remus hadn’t known about. A part he’d never thought to ask after: why
Hestia had gone to Dorcas’ flat that night in the first place.

“What does it mean?” he demanded again, staring down at the note. “What investigation? What
did she think she knew?”

Hestia swallowed her tears and took a deep breath. “The week before Dorcas died, I found out that
she’d been investigating who the spy in the Order was,” she said, clearly trying to keep her voice
steady. “I assume that what she thought she knew was who it was. But when I got to the flat,
well…everything she’d had from her investigation was gone. And so was she.”

Remus felt something still inside of him, a moment’s silence as realization settled over him like a
cold wave. “So that’s why she was killed,” he said, his voice soft. “All these years, I thought…I
thought that it was just because she’d become too much of a threat, capturing Death Eaters left and
right, but instead, it was that—”

“She knew too much,” Hestia finished for him, nodding.

Remus looked up at her, a mix of anger and shock coursing through his veins. To think that if
Hestia had just gotten there in time, they would’ve known then who the spy was, and so many lives
could’ve been saved. Then again, perhaps Hestia would’ve just died alongside Dorcas that night.

“How could you not tell us about this?” he demanded, knowing even as he spoke that it wasn’t fair.

Hestia shook her head, her eyes still shining with tears. “I told Dumbledore, and he told me not to
say anything to anyone,” she said. “I’m sorry I kept it a secret from you all. I—I was scared. I wish
I’d told you.”

“Why now?” Remus asked numbly, placing the note beside him on the coffee table face up so that
Dorcas’ handwriting stared at the both of them as they spoke.

Hestia straightened and wiped her eyes. “Because I realized that you deserved to know,” she said.
“Because of what Emmeline said about facts, and how they all pointed toward Sirius. But this one
—” she pointed to the note, “—this one never did. I know there’s no evidence to tell us who she
suspected, but I saw Sirius the night she died, and he was devastated. He was angry at me, too, for
not telling him what I’d talked to Dumbledore about. I can’t believe that he already knew. I can’t
believe that he would’ve been the one to get her killed to keep his secret.”
Remus shook his head almost unconsciously. “He wouldn’t,” he said, knowing as he did so that the
Sirius they were speaking of was one that might never have existed, might have all been a lie. “He
wouldn’t have done it to Dorcas. He wouldn’t have done it to Marlene, either.”

“Even more than that,” Hestia pressed on, her tone businesslike now. “I can’t imagine why Dorcas
would’ve thought that I’d have any information that would help her figure out that Sirius was the
spy if that’s what she thought. Sirius and I rarely spent time together just the two of us, and I was
barely ever on missions with him. We had opposite schedules. It was Dorcas who was on duty with
Sirius. If it’d been him that she suspected, she would’ve had all the information she needed for
herself.”

Remus nodded. She was right, and yet it didn’t make anything clearer, only more confused. “It
doesn’t prove anything,” he said finally, his gaze refocusing on Hestia.

Hestia gave a small, sad shrug. “I know,” she admitted. “I don’t even know what I want it to prove,
really. I just thought that, after all these years, maybe it could be something I could stop carrying
alone. It’s selfish of me, really.”

“No,” Remus said, shaking his head, though his thoughts were more muddled than ever. “I’m glad
you told me. Really.”

Hestia gave him a small, cautious smile, and Remus reached out to grasp her hand in his, squeezing
as he held her gaze. And, indeed, despite the drum of questions on the inside of his skull, all of
which he’d refused to think about for almost all of these past twelve years, he felt as if something
was mending, too, some part of trust cracking back into place like a broken bone, painful and yet
full of relief. An echo of his old life healing.

“Em told me you’re going back to Hogwarts,” Hestia said after a moment of silence, and Remus
nodded. “Are you nervous?”

Remus thought for a moment. He hadn’t had much time to think about his nerves at returning to
the place he’d called home for so many years, busy as he’d been trying to work out the details,
figuring out how much longer he could punish Dumbledore by waiting to give him an answer and
trying to avoid seeing Sirius’ face everywhere he went. Emmeline hadn’t asked him about that
part, either, but now that Hestia had, Remus felt the anxiety hit him like a sack of bricks.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “Terrified.”

Hestia nodded. “I would be, too,” she said. She gave his hand another squeeze, and he gave her a
small smile in return. She smiled back, then, as her gaze scanned over his face, her smile
broadened until he could see the familiar sparkle return to her eyes.

“You really need a haircut, Remus,” she said, a teasing note in her voice as she grinned at him.

He reached up to feel the ends of his hair, then shrugged sheepishly. “Yeah, I suppose it hasn’t
been much of a priority recently,” he said.

Hestia smiled and stood, jerking her head to indicate that he should follow her.

“What are you doing?” Remus asked warily, not getting up.

Hestia rolled her eyes. “I’m going to cut your hair,” she said, as if it were obvious, snapping her
fingers at him in such an insistent way that it made him grin. “Come on, Lupin, you can’t turn up to
school with a mop like that on your head, not if you want any of your students to take you
seriously.”
He rose reluctantly and she looked satisfied, dragging him toward the bathroom and then leaving to
grab a stool for him to sit on, so he could sit in front of the mirror with her hovering behind him.

As she conjured a pair of scissors, he looked at her doubtfully. “Since when do you know how to
cut hair?”

“Since I decided it was a useful skill to have. Emmeline would just let her hair grow forever if I
didn’t cut it,” Hestia replied primly, examining Remus’ hair as if she was trying to find a place to
start.

After a few moments, she started snipping, and Remus just watched her in the mirror in silence,
feeling somehow peaceful. Perhaps it was just exhaustion from the night before.

“You want to know something that’s always fucked with my head?” he asked after a moment.

Hestia looked up to meet his eyes in the mirror, nodding. Remus’ heart beat slightly faster as he
thought of giving up this secret, but, after all, Hestia had told him hers.

“Back during the last year of the war, I was sure that Sirius thought that I was the spy,” he
admitted quietly.

A crease formed between Hestia’s eyebrows as she frowned thoughtfully, going back to slowly
cutting Remus’ hair. “Why did you think that?”

“He stopped looking at me the same way,” Remus said, his voice heavy with pain as he
remembered how that had felt. “As soon as he knew that there was a spy, he started looking at me
like he didn’t trust me. He wouldn’t always meet my eye. It felt like he’d trust me, then change his
mind, like he was fighting with himself over it.”

Hestia hummed thoughtfully for a moment, lowering her scissors and looking at him in the mirror.
“I can see why that fucks with your head,” she said.

“Yeah,” Remus said. “In the years since, I tried convincing myself that it was just that he was the
spy and I misinterpreted, but…I really thought that he thought it was me. That’s what it felt like.”

Hestia seemed to think for a moment, then shook her head. “Well, that’s bullshit if anyone ever
thought that,” she stated resolutely. “Complete and utter bullshit, really.”

“Really?” Remus asked sheepishly. “I might’ve been as likely as anyone else. More so because I’m
a—”

“Don’t be daft,” Hestia rebuked him, shaking her head and giving him a soft smack on the side of
his skull. “Not only are you one of the most loyal people I’ve ever known, but you’ve also always
been a terrible liar, ever since we were kids.”

“Oi!” Remus exclaimed, but he couldn’t help the smile that bloomed across his face from the real
joy that came from hearing her say that.

Hestia gave him a goofy smile in the mirror, and Remus couldn’t wipe the giddy look from his own
face. How strange it was that they could fit right back into old patterns after so long.

“Is that boyfriend of yours still around?” Remus asked, giving Hestia a cheeky grin in the mirror.

She smiled, still cutting his hair rather than meeting his teasing gaze. “For all of seven years, now.
It’s a miracle I haven’t scared him off,” she replied, and Remus smiled at her fondly in the mirror.
She looked up to meet his gaze for a moment, a familiar sparkle dancing in her dark eyes. “What
about you, Lupin? I’m sure there are plenty of eligible bachelors lined up around the street for
you.”

“Hah, funny,” Remus deadpanned.

Hestia just grinned, turning back to his hair, though her smile slid off her face quickly, her
expression growing thoughtful.

“It’s okay if you still love him,” she said quietly, after a long moment.

Remus didn’t look up at her in the mirror, didn’t meet her insistent gaze. Instead, he closed his
eyes. He didn’t know how to explain to her how he’d spent twelve years, not alone, but realizing
each time he was with someone else that he’d just been trying to find another version of Sirius all
along. Then, whenever he did realize it, with the sight of a head of dark hair splayed across a
pillow, a cheeky smile, or words that were too familiar, he’d bolted. Sometimes it would take
minutes, sometimes months, but Remus always left, if they didn’t leave him first. Falling for each
man was like enjoying a nice dream before jerking awake covered in sweat, realizing that it’d been
a nightmare all along. How could he explain that to anyone?

“It’s not okay,” he replied quietly, his eyes still tightly shut. “I shouldn’t…sometimes I just think
about how much I wish things could be what they were before I knew…before everything fell to
shit. But I shouldn’t want that. I shouldn’t want him.”

“There’ll always be things that we shouldn’t want,” Hestia replied, her voice sounding strangely
distant. “It doesn’t mean we stop wanting them.” Remus opened his eyes to look at her in the
mirror, and she smiled sadly at him. “Mary told me that, once.”

“Sounds like something Mary would say,” Remus replied, his voice full of heartbreaking nostalgia
as he imagined the young woman he’d known, who’d disappeared from them twelve years before,
leaving nothing in her wake. Since then, Remus had gained a few tidbits of news about her from
others, but they’d all been few and far between. Last he’d heard, she’d been working at the British
National Organization for Magical Creature Rights. She’d married, too, and now had a family of
her own, which threw him for a loop whenever he thought of it.

“I miss her,” Hestia admitted softly. “Emmeline tells me to give her space, has been telling me that
for twelve goddamn years, but I miss her every day. I just wish that she’d come back, just turn up
on our doorstep one day, you know?”

Remus nodded. “I know,” he said, pain tugging at his heart again. Mary was another person lost
but not lost. Another victim of the war, like all of them.

Hestia stopped cutting his hair and let her chin rest on Remus’ shoulder in the mirror for a moment,
sighing. Remus let his eyes close, let the comfort of her closeness wash over him as he inhaled her
familiar perfume.

“I missed you, too, Remus,” Hestia said quietly, and Remus didn’t open his eyes, just nodded.

“I missed you,” he replied. “I’m sorry for pulling away.”

“Me too,” Hestia replied simply. “I shouldn’t have let you go so easily.”

....

Remus boarded the train early on the morning of September 1st, eager to miss the crowds of
 students and parents that he knew would gather there in the thirty minutes before it would leave.
As he stepped back onto the familiar platform, he tried to avoid the memories of boys yelling
through the crowd for one another, of James and Sirius tousling his hair when they saw him,
arriving as one with Euphemia and Fleamont in tow.

Remus climbed into the silent Express alone this time, but habit drew him toward the familiar
compartment that he, James, and Peter had always occupied, sometimes with the company of the
girls. He shook his head, bypassing it and making his way toward the very end of the train. Quite
apart from not wanting to spend the whole journey alongside the ghosts of happy memories turned
sour, Remus didn’t want to announce his presence to the students by sitting in one of the first
compartments on the train.

Therefore, Remus slid open the door of the last compartment on the train and stepped inside,
hoisting his bag up into the rack above his head before settling down. He was exhausted; the last
full moon had only been the night prior, and though he hadn’t sustained any major injuries, he’d
felt more restless leading up to it than he had in a while. The only comfort to Remus was that it
would be the last full moon in many months that he’d lose his mind if all went well with the
Wolfsbane Potion. Of course, it was Snape, as the Potions Master, who was supposed to brew it for
Remus, so Remus didn’t think he should count on that outcome just yet. He just hoped that Snape’s
hatred of him had dulled in the fifteen years since they’d left Hogwarts, but he wasn’t counting on
that, either.

Remus sunk down onto a seat by the window and glanced out at the brick wall that bordered the
platform. Once the train started moving, he knew that it would quickly be replaced with a view of
rolling hills and valleys, yet Remus didn’t particularly want to see any of it. It was only because the
full moon had been the night before that he was taking the train at all, as he didn’t particularly trust
himself to apparate all the way to Scotland after the ordeal. Even as Remus looked out the window,
his eyelids began to droop, and though he told himself he’d only rest his eyes for a moment, he
quickly fell asleep, slumped against the window.

When he woke, it was to the outline of a familiar messy head beside him in the dark, and for a
moment, Remus thought that the last twenty years of his life had been a dream. Then the boy
turned, and he saw the shape of his green eyes, and knew before someone else spoke his name:
“Harry? Is that you? What’s happening?”

Harry.

Chapter End Notes

I thought for a long time about how to refer to El here, and did oodles of research that
mostly came up with diddly squat, which was super frustrating. It’s hard to find any
written records of how gender non-conforming people referred to themselves or others
prior to the mid-1990s, and while I know that the use of they/them pronouns has only
been recorded recently as something popularly used for those who don’t feel that
she/her or he/him captures their whole experience, I decided I don’t really care.

As one of my friends said, if it started being reported on in the late 90s, it probably
started being used way before, just in small circles whose stories didn’t make it into
the history books. I’d rather refer to El with pronouns that feel right for them than be
historically accurate, anyway. So just think of El as a gender revolutionary who asked
their friends to use they/them pronouns for them before others thought of it :)

Also, I wanted to give a shoutout to all of y’all who comment frequently—I love you
so much!!! If I don’t reply, please know I still read all the comments and they make
me so happy and keep me motivated when I’m feeling discouraged. I just sometimes
have no idea how to reply if you don’t ask a question or something because I’m
autistic and don’t people very well lol, and also sometimes I will mean to reply and
then completely forget because of the ADHD. What an iconic duo :) Also, I don’t even
know if you even want me to reply? Like what are the standard parasocial dynamics of
ao3, anyway?? Should I just be quiet and write?? I truly have no idea. But don’t for a
second think that y’all aren’t the lights of my life.

Okay yeah sorry for all the notes this chapter. I ramble a lot so feel free to ignore me
haha
 1993-1994: Yesterday
Chapter Notes

Surprise! I thought I’d post an extra chapter this week because I was gone for a few
weeks, and because today is the second anniversary of me posting the first chapter of
this fic on ao3.

Honestly, this chapter feels appropriate for today, too. I originally started writing this
fic with the encouragement of my close friend, and I posted the first chapter on ao3 on
her birthday two years ago, since I’d already been writing it for a while and she really
wanted to read it. I haven’t spoken to her much at all in a little more than a year, now.
There’s a lot of hurt there, a lot that was said and done that I still can’t make sense of
and which I don’t even know if we have the capacity to hash out together because I’m
not sure we can put our hurt aside to see eye to eye about any of it. Still, I think about
her all the time, and I wish things had been different. So, if you’re reading this (you
probably aren’t): happy birthday.

cw: homophobia, internalized homophobia

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Yesterday all my troubles seemed so far away

Now it looks as though they're here to stay

Oh, I believe in yesterday

Suddenly I'm not half the man I used to be

There's a shadow hanging over me

Oh, yesterday came suddenly

- "Yesterday," The Beatles

Several months into his term at Hogwarts, Remus had begun to feel as if “Professor Lupin” was an
alter ego he was simply acting out. If Remus looked at Harry and felt a pang of grief, looking into
his bright green eyes and thinking of Lily, Professor Lupin gave away nothing other than teacherly
concern. If Remus watched Harry’s eyebrows crease into a frown, or the corners of his mouth
twitch as he tried to suppress a grin and thought of James, Professor Lupin paid no more attention
to Harry than any of his other pupils.

There were still moments, however, where Remus couldn’t keep the façade of Professor Lupin up,
and it wasn’t just Remus who was peeking through the cracks…it was also Moony. It was the
ghosts, he told himself. The ghosts of his younger self haunted this castle, along with many others.
Sometimes he was in class and a student’s cheeky answer made him think of James or Sirius, a
laugh rippling through the class made him think of Peter and how he’d always be the one to crack
first after Remus made a quiet joke, a laugh busting out of him after his face had already turned
bright red and his eyes began to water with the effort of keeping it in, Remus sitting next to him
with a small, satisfied smile on his face. It was in those moments where Remus had to try hard not
to smile himself, to remind himself that he was the teacher and those boys were all gone, even him.
It was a sad reminder he had to give himself, but a necessary one.

Then there was Halloween. When Remus had seen Harry in that corridor, standing alone with his
shoulders slouched and a miserable look on his face, he was overcome with an irresistible desire
not to be Professor Lupin, but to be what Lily and James had always intended, what he’d been for
the first year and three months of Harry’s life: Uncle Moony. Of course, he couldn’t be that, as
Harry hadn’t even known that Remus knew him then, and Remus certainly didn’t have the words
to tell him, but he invited him into his office all the same. That was the first time Remus saw Harry
for what he was: not James, nor Lily, but Harry, the boy they’d all wanted to see grow up, to see
what he’d be. He remembered speculating with Sirius sometimes as they’d babysat Harry more
than a decade earlier.

“He’ll be stubborn,” Sirius had said, glancing toward the crib with a smile. “You see the way he
throws a tantrum when someone tries to take away his favorite toy? Reminds me of Lily whenever
she didn’t get her way at Hogwarts.”

Remus had smiled and added more charitably: “He’ll be generous, though. Always wanting to
share. He never monopolizes when he plays with Neville, even if Neville would let him.”

Remus thought that they’d both been right. Sirius had certainly been correct about the
stubbornness; Remus could see it in Harry’s eyes as he talked to him, as Harry insisted that he was
capable. The determined light in his eyes, the refusal to back down…yes, it reminded him of Lily,
but there was another boy Remus couldn’t help but remember, too, when he spoke to Harry.
Especially after Harry had insisted—in what Remus was sure he thought was a subtle manner—for
Remus not to trust Snape. He reminded Remus of Sirius.

Of course, Lily and Sirius had seemed so similar at times, and yet Remus knew the look in Harry’s
eye wasn’t just a temper, it was something harder and all the more heartbreaking: the kind of
defensiveness and anger that was only born through deep-rooted suffering. Anger bloomed in
Remus at the sight of it, anger at Dumbledore for those twelve years during which who knew what
had occurred. Still, Remus pushed the anger down, pushed it away, because he was Professor
Lupin, and Professor Lupin was calm and measured. Professor Lupin wasn’t angry. Still, after
Harry left his office that day, Remus really wanted to break something.

Later that very evening, the specter of Sirius that Remus had found in Harry’s eyes turned into an
all-too-real version. When he’d read in the paper that Sirius had been sighted near Hogwarts,
Remus hadn’t wanted to believe that he’d actually have the gall to try to enter the castle, but
apparently, he’d underestimated Sirius. Another doubt to add to the list. Another conflicting piece
of evidence. If Dumbledore was to be believed, Sirius was hunting Harry, and yet Remus couldn’t
bring himself to believe it. Still, the ruins Sirius had left the Fat Lady’s painting in sent a chill
down Remus’ spine. This isn’t the boy you knew, the wreckage warned him.

That night, as he searched the Astronomy Tower for any and all clues of Sirius’ whereabouts,
Remus thought about all the ways that Sirius could’ve gotten into the castle. He’d been a
Marauder, after all, with every secret passage in and out of the school memorized. Then, of course,
there was the fact that he was an Animagus. Remus hated the idea that Sirius had used his
Animagus form to breach the castle’s defenses, hated to think that something that had united them
as friends once could now be turned on its head and used as a weapon—a weapon against James’
son, no less. He shoved away the idea, unable to stomach even thinking about it.
“Lupin,” a soft voice said in the darkness, and Remus whirled, his wand raised to illuminate the
person who’d snuck up on him. He let out a breath of mixed relief and exasperation when he saw it
was only Snape.

Snape stepped closer, his lips pulled back in a sneer so familiar that Remus had to fight the instinct
to respond how he might have when they’d been in school together: to give him a glare back.
Instead, he transformed his expression into a look of calm interest. He’d told himself that he’d play
nice with Snape—another part of his role as Professor Lupin.

“Severus,” he greeted politely. “I haven’t found any evidence of Black up here.”

“Oh?” Snape asked silkily, a note of sarcastic disbelief carefully layered into his tone. “And are
you sure that you’ve been searching properly?”

Remus clenched his jaw but managed to force his words out with a semblance of manners. “I’m not
sure what you mean, Severus.”

“Only that I, for one, am not entirely sure that this task should be set to you,” Snape replied, his
voice becoming more deadly. “You may be motivated to overlook a clue or two to protect your old
friend, Lupin.”

Remus was quiet for a moment, trying to keep his rage from bursting from the dam he’d carefully
constructed to keep it in check. He couldn’t help but think of their fifth year at Hogwarts, couldn’t
help but remember that this had been the place where Sirius had told him what had happened that
fateful night, that first time that Sirius had nearly broken everything for all of them—perhaps a test
run of things to come, Remus had thought wryly sometimes on his bad days over the past twelve
years.

Remus had imagined the scene so many times in his head: the way that Snape had followed Sirius
in the dark, just as he’d done with Remus just moments ago. Then, the taunting words, which had
taken years for Sirius to share the whole truth about. Remus remembered Sirius’ words to him in
their dorm in seventh year: “He also said something about you and me. Something disgusting, and
terrible, and also something that hit closer to home than I would’ve liked.”

Part of Remus wanted to yell at Snape: “Why don’t you just say what you want to say?” He could
almost feel the ghost of a young Sirius near him, egging him on, his own rage palpable. Still,
Remus held himself back and replied calmly after the silence had dragged on for a while.

“Professor Dumbledore appointed me to this position because he trusted me,” Remus responded
quietly. “If you have concerns about my ability to do this job, I suggest that you bring it up with
him.”

A look of frustration flickered across Snape’s face, and Remus almost wanted to smile. Of course,
Snape had brought it up with Dumbledore, probably many times, and had been shot down at each
one. It gave Remus an immense amount of satisfaction to think that despite Snape’s posturing, all
the instances where he’d tried, in the past months, to prove that he was better than Remus and had
more authority than him, it was all just talk.

“If you’ve finished searching up here, you can make yourself useful in searching North Tower
next,” Snape said after a moment of prickly silence.

Remus resisted the urge to roll his eyes, though he doubted that Snape would be able to see it in the
dark anyway, and nodded.
“Of course,” he replied shortly. His knee hurt just thinking of mounting the steps to another tower,
and he knew that Snape had delegated this task to him precisely because it was another long trek,
but he refused to give Snape the satisfaction of complaining.

When Remus returned to his office in the wee hours of the morning empty-handed, exhausted, and
aching all over, he fell into his bed, only to lay awake, staring at the ceiling for hours. To think that
Sirius was here, in the castle, or somewhere hiding in the grounds outside it…Remus couldn’t wrap
his head around it. For twelve years, Sirius had been a specter who’d haunted his dreams along
with his waking moments, but the real Sirius had been trapped out in a prison in the middle of the
North Sea.

Remus had kept a careful separation between the Sirius in his head and the real one, as if telling
himself that the Sirius he’d known had been a lie would absolve Remus for longing for him. Now,
the boy Remus remembered and the man Sirius had become were so terrifyingly close to one
another, both within the grounds that they’d grown up in together, and Remus feared the moment
where he’d have to reconcile them, the moment where he’d have to face what Sirius had become,
which would eclipse any fond memory of what he’d once been. Perhaps Snape was right. Perhaps
Remus didn’t want to find him.

....

It’d been predictable, if a blow, to learn that Snape had retaliated weeks after the incident in the
Astronomy Tower by assigning Remus’ third-year students an essay about werewolves. The more
Remus tried to give the man the benefit of the doubt, it seemed, the more Snape proved that he
hadn’t grown at all since their school days together. And yet it’d become a challenge, in Remus’
head, not to show the anger he felt. To have his gaze flit carelessly over Snape in the staff room, to
see his satisfied smirk, and to not react.

Agreeing to help Harry learn to ward off Dementors was something that Remus had done against
his better judgment. It was the look that Harry had given him that had made him do it, the look as
he’d asked: “Why do they affect me like that? Am I just—”

It’d been so heart-wrenching, the hopeless question of whether he was lesser than his classmates, if
there was something wrong with him, that made Remus need to reassure him, need to prove to him
that there was nothing wrong with him.

And yet every interaction Remus had with Harry left him feeling both grateful and terribly sad. To
hear him speak about Lily and James, about hearing their voices as they’d died…well, it was
enough to make Remus want to curl up within himself and block everything out. To hear that
James had died for Lily and Harry…well, Remus should’ve known that James would, but hearing
the words coming from Harry’s mouth after he’d faced the boggart Dementor, his eyes glazed as
he told Remus of the echo that had sounded in his head, as if it’d just happened…Remus wasn’t
sure how Harry could speak about it with such bravery, as all he wanted to do was sob.

Still, whenever Remus suggested that they stop the lessons, which he knew was part selfishness,
too, Harry insisted that they keep going, all for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. James would’ve
been proud of him, Remus thought wryly.

Harry’s words at the end of the lesson haunted him just as much as all the others, too. “Professor
Lupin?” he’d asked tentatively. “If you knew my dad, you must’ve known Sirius Black as well.”

Remus hadn’t been able to pull on his Professor Lupin face for that answer, he knew, had probably
had a dozen feelings written all over his face at the words. Part of him wanted to talk about Sirius
with Harry, but most of him wanted to stay far, far away from the subject forever.
How could he tell the boy that the man who was lurking somewhere on the grounds, intent on
breaking into the castle, was his godfather? How could he tell Harry about Sirius without telling
him about the look on Sirius’ face when Lily had handed the newborn Harry to him: a mixture of
terror and wonder as he held him like he was scared that he’d break? How could Remus tell him
about the man without telling him of how Sirius had held Harry as he’d danced around the sitting
room of the Potters’ house in Godric’s Hollow, singing along softly to Queen and claiming that
they needed to start Harry off early with good music taste?

That was probably why it was best to say nothing, Remus thought. No one wanted to hear about a
mass murderer from the man who’d once loved him…who might still love him, or at least, the
version he’d known. Remus had traded chocolate for firewhiskey that night, needing something
with more kick.

And yet it’d been Remus, and not Harry, who’d brought Sirius up again, as they shared a
butterbeer after a particularly successful Patronus lesson in February. Perhaps it’d been the news in
that morning’s paper that had made it impossible for Remus to skirt the topic, or perhaps it’d been
Harry’s extremely obvious cover-up after almost admitting sneaking into Hogsmeade without
permission. It really was absurd sometimes how much he reminded Remus of James and Sirius.

So when Harry had asked Remus what was under a Dementor’s hood, Remus hadn’t been able to
prevent himself from mentioning Sirius and the fate that awaited him if he was caught. Harry sat
stunned for a moment, then his expression hardened, and Remus saw a glint of Lily’s righteous
anger in his green eyes.

“He deserves it,” he blurted out, his voice stiff with anger.

Remus felt a rush of pain go through him, the image of Sirius holding baby Harry in his arms sharp
in his memory, to be replaced by a picture of Sirius with blank eyes, dead in all but name.

“You think so?” Remus asked, forcing his voice to be light and casual. “Do you really think anyone
deserves that?”

“Yes,” Harry replied defiantly. “For… for some things…”

He looked as if he wanted to say more but was holding himself back, and Remus knew then that
for all the efforts that everyone had made to keep the truth from Harry, he’d learned the story after
all. So Remus didn’t challenge the thirteen-year-old in his stubborn belief about the righteousness
of the Ministry’s decree, as he hardly knew what he’d say, anyway, that wouldn’t make him sound
like a traitor himself. Harry didn’t want to hear any defense of the man who’d betrayed his parents,
and why should he? Remus rebuked himself for even wanting to try. Remus’ love for Sirius was
his own burden to bear, and justifying it to someone else, someone who’d been a victim in his own
right…well, that wouldn’t absolve him, and it wouldn’t make anyone feel better.

Of course, such a defense would’ve been useless, anyway, especially with the fact that Sirius chose
the following week to stage another break-in to Gryffindor Tower, this time making it all the way
to Harry’s dorm room. It puzzled Remus still why he’d apparently left empty-handed after scaring
the wits out of Ron Weasley. Just another item to add to a long list of things that made no sense.

Remus’ next confrontation with Snape came later than he would’ve expected, given the break-in.
He’d thought that Snape would come by his classroom just the following day, full of accusations of
helping Sirius into the castle once again. Instead, it was almost two weeks later when Remus was
sitting in his office on a Saturday grading papers when he heard Snape’s voice call angrily through
his fireplace, the flames turning green as he glanced over at them.
“Lupin!” Snape’s voice echoed up through the fire, anger in every syllable. “I want a word!”

Remus sighed and stood, walking over to the fireplace and stepping into it resignedly. He didn’t
have to say his destination before he started to spin, and moments later, he stepped out onto the
hearth of Snape’s office, brushing ash off his clothes. He was surprised to see that Snape wasn’t
alone, however, as Harry stood beside his desk, his face sweaty and his hands in his pockets,
looking sheepish and a little bewildered by Remus’ appearance. Remus glanced from him to Snape,
looking for an explanation.

“You called, Severus?” he asked, keeping his voice mild as always.

“I certainly did,” Snape spat out, his expression full of rage. “I have just asked Potter to empty his
pockets. He was carrying this.” Striding back to his desk, he pointed an accusing finger at a piece
of parchment laying innocently on top of it. As Remus looked down at it, he knew a moment of
shock that transformed quickly into horror. The handwriting scribbled on the front of it was very
familiar, and Remus had to squint only slightly to read it, forcing his expression to remain blank as
he did so.

The first line read, in handwriting that was unmistakably his own: Mr. Moony presents his
compliments to Professor Snape and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other
people’s business.

A line down was another message, this time in James’ familiar chicken scratch: Mr. Prongs agrees
with Mr. Moony and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git.

The third line sent a further pang through Remus, as he recognized the neat cursive that was Sirius’
handwriting: Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever
became a professor.

Then, finally, the last line spelled out, in Peter’s large, careful lettering: Mr. Wormtail bids
Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball.

Remus read all of this in quick succession and had only a moment to register a small glint of pride
that the Marauder’s Map still worked after all these years, and somehow still managed to contain
all their teenage personalities so neatly in it, before Snape snapped at him: “Well?”

The satisfaction disappeared instantly, to be replaced with panic. How would Remus explain the
presence of this map to Snape? Of course, Snape knew what it was, and who it’d belonged to. Even
if he hadn’t remembered the name “Marauders,” Remus was sure that Snape would at least
recognize his own handwriting on the top line.

Harry obviously hadn’t, however, as he looked bewildered at Snape’s sudden rage, and at the
interaction unfolding before him. Remus decided to put off the matter of how Harry had gotten
hold of the map until later. In the meantime, was there a chance that he could bluff his way out of
this?

“Well?” Snape repeated, louder and even more insistently. “This parchment is plainly full of dark
magic. This is supposed to be your area of expertise, Lupin. Where do you imagine Potter got such
a thing?”

Remus finally looked up from the map into Snape’s livid face. He gave Harry the quickest of
warning glances, hoping that he’d have enough sense not to interrupt, then looked back to Snape,
his expression still carefully neutral.
“Full of dark magic?” Remus repeated, adding a slight, doubtful note to his voice for effect. “Do
you really think so, Severus? It looks to me as though it is merely a piece of parchment that insults
anybody who reads it. Childish, but surely not dangerous? I imagine Harry got it from a joke shop
—”

“Indeed?” Snape interrupted, looking angrier than ever before at Remus’ feigned ignorance. “You
think a joke shop could supply him with such a thing? You don’t think it more likely that he got it
directly from the manufacturers?”

Harry looked even more confused than ever, but the realization dawned on Remus that of course,
Snape thought that he had given it to Harry. He almost wanted to smile at Snape’s frustration, but
he instead forced his face into an expression of mild confusion. Terrible liar my arse, Hestia,
Remus thought with satisfaction as he watched Snape’s face redden.

“You mean, by Mr. Wormtail or one of these people?” Remus glanced at Harry, trying to keep his
expression from twitching into amusement. “Harry, do you know any of these men?”

“No,” Harry denied quickly, and Remus knew from his expression that this, if nothing else, was
the truth—to the best of Harry’s knowledge, at least. Still, Remus felt a pang of sadness go through
him at the denial. He hadn’t expected Harry to know that the map had been created in part by his
own father, and yet it saddened him that Harry had been carrying a piece of James around with him
for who knew how long and had never known it.

“You see, Severus?” Remus asked, turning back to Snape innocently as he pushed the emotion
away. “It looks like a Zonko’s product to me—”

As if on cue, Ron Weasley burst into the office right at that moment, his red hair plastered to his
forehead with sweat and panting as he tried to speak. Remus again suppressed a smile, thinking that
both boys really needed to get better at the art of subtlety if they were going to keep out of trouble.

“I—gave—Harry—that—stuff,” Ron choked out, clutching a stitch in his chest. “Bought—it…in

Zonko’s...ages—ago…”

Remus thought wryly that this sounded a lot like the excuse that Harry had given him a few weeks
ago for why he’d tried Butterbeer before. Not smart, to recycle alibis like that. Still, Remus went
along with them, looking for all the world like he had no doubts about their story.

“Well! That seems to clear that up!” he said, clapping his hands together and glancing around at
Snape, who looked as if he wanted to strangle Ron Weasley with his bare hands. “Severus, I’ll take
this back, shall I?”

Remus reached for the map and folded it up, tucking it into a pocket of his robes before Snape
could protest.

“Harry, Ron, come with me, I need a word about my vampire essay—excuse us, Severus.” He
ushered the two boys out of the office firmly, not looking back at Snape as he did so, who was no
doubt seething in his wake.

They walked in silence for several minutes, up the stairs from the dungeons to the entrance hall, as
Remus tried to figure out what to say. Emotions warred within him: shock at the sudden appearance
of the map, accompanied by the desire to find out how it’d fallen into Harry’s hands after the last
time Remus had seen it, disappearing around the corner with Argus Filch. Nostalgia for the notes
written upon it, the defense mechanism the four boys had devised for if it fell into a stranger’s
hands. But there was another which called more attention than any of the rest, one that surprised
Remus: anger.

As they reached the entrance hall, Harry stopped and turned to Remus, his expression contrite.
“Professor, I—”

“I don’t want to hear explanations,” Remus interrupted him shortly. Glancing around at the empty
hall, he lowered his voice slightly.

“I happen to know that this map was confiscated by Mr. Filch many years ago. Yes, I know it’s a
map,” he said, ignoring the awed looks on both thirteen-year-old boys’ faces. Perhaps his status as
a cool professor would keep them from asking further questions, as he wasn’t prepared or inclined
to answer any of them. He took a deep breath and continued, disapproval now seeping into his
voice.

“I don’t want to know how it fell into your possession.” (A lie, of course, but giving away his
curiosity felt too much like showing his hand for Remus’ taste.) “I am, however, astounded that
you didn’t hand it in. Particularly after what happened the last time a student left information about
the castle lying around. And I can’t let you have it back, Harry.”

Harry didn’t look surprised by Remus’ reprimand and barely even bothered to hang his head,
looking up at him eagerly instead. Remus’ frustration was mixed with fondness as he thought of
how similar this reaction felt to what James’ would’ve been at thirteen.

“Why did Snape think I’d got it from the manufacturers?” Harry asked.

Remus hesitated, trying to think of a way to answer the question without answering it. It wouldn’t
do for Harry to know who’d created this map, not now. Even if it might’ve given him comfort to
know that one of the original mapmakers had been his father, that would no doubt be
overshadowed by the news that another was the infamous Sirius Black, and a third was Remus
himself. Selfishly, too, Remus didn’t want any further suspicion to be cast upon him, and he didn’t
want Harry to begin to distrust him for the further proof of his association with Sirius.

“Because…” Remus began tentatively, thinking of James, Sirius, and Peter, nostalgia flooding
through him as he remembered how it’d been, making this map together, delighting in the trouble
that they could cause with it. “Because these mapmakers would have wanted to lure you out of
school. They’d find it extremely entertaining.”

“Do you know them?” Harry demanded. The impressed expression on Harry’s face was
unmistakable now, and Remus wondered with slight amusement how Lily would’ve reacted to her
son being impressed by the boys that she’d found so unbearable in her first years of Hogwarts.

“We’ve…met,” Remus said, the finality in his voice making it clear that he’d answer no more
questions on the subject.

He looked down at Harry more seriously now, as his thoughts of Lily had made him return to his
earlier frustration with and protectiveness over Harry. Perhaps at another time, Remus would’ve
rebuked Harry less, would’ve turned a blind eye to him exploring the castle as Remus had done
when he was his age, but now wasn’t that time.

“Don’t expect me to cover up for you again, Harry,” he said sternly. “I cannot make you take
Sirius Black seriously. But I would have thought that what you have heard when the Dementors
draw near you would have had more of an effect on you. Your parents gave their lives to keep you
alive, Harry. A poor way to repay them — gambling their sacrifice for a bag of magic tricks.”
Harry’s face fell, and Remus almost felt guilty, but instead of dwelling on it, he walked away,
heading back up to his office, the map in his pocket feeling heavier than it ever had.

....

The Marauder’s Map felt like a living presence in Remus’ office in the months that followed.
March dissolved into April, April into May, and Gryffindor won the House Cup, which Remus
privately celebrated, though he kept quiet about it in his classes, not wanting to show favoritism to
any house. Classes ended, and Remus occupied his time planning the end-of-year exams for his
students.

This was among the many excuses Remus had come up with to not look at the map. He told
himself he was too busy to think of it, and no one had seen Sirius on the grounds or in the castle in
months. Remus would bring it out if Sirius broke into the castle. That was what he told himself,
and yet Remus knew that he was being selfish. He knew that he just didn’t want to see Sirius on it,
as if he did, his conscience would require him to tell Dumbledore, or else search Sirius out for
himself, and he wasn’t ready for that. So he let the map burn a hole in his desk drawer, and busied
himself with work.

The last exam Remus had to oversee was that of his third years, and it was a rather fun one. Other
than Hermione, who’d burst into tears when facing her boggart—which Remus felt quite guilty
about—it seemed to be a favorite among the students, too. And while there was quite a lot of
clean-up involved, he’d had a few eager volunteers come to assist him with it.

“Thank you, Dean, Seamus,” Remus told the two boys as they helped him round up the assortment
of creatures that had been involved in their exam.

Remus wiped the sweat from his brow as he closed the trunk on the boggart, straightening up in
time to catch Dean’s admiring smile and Seamus’ more sheepishly pleased look at his words.

“We can help you carry these up to the castle,” Dean offered, and Remus smiled at them, his gaze
flicking from Dean’s eager face to Seamus’, who seemed to be trying to keep his cool, as if not
wanting to be caught brown-nosing.

“Thank you, that’s very good of you both,” Remus said, and both third years set about picking up a
few of the tanks to carry toward the castle.

When they entered it, the two boys moved ahead of Remus up the Grand Staircase, as if to show
that they could more than handle their burden, though by the time they’d reached Remus’ office,
they were both breathing heavily. Remus didn’t have the heart to tell them that he could’ve just
levitated everything ahead of him, as they’d looked so eager to help. As they set down their
burdens, Remus gave both boys a smile.

“I appreciate both of your help, boys,” he said. “I can unpack all these if you want to go to lunch.”

“Great, I’m starving,” Dean said cheerfully, turning to leave. He sent a questioning glance at
Seamus, who’d hesitated, and Seamus waved him away.

“I’m not really hungry yet,” Seamus said. “You go on. I’ll catch up later.”

“Alright,” Dean said, shrugging, and set off out the door.

Remus gave Seamus a slight, curious glance, but Seamus seemed determined to be of help, as he
picked up the Grindylow tank and heaved it over to its usual perch by the window. He was familiar
with the layout due to the other several trips he’d taken to Remus’ office before, sometimes with
Dean to ask about the homework, sometimes alone, stopping by with a quick question, or claiming
he wanted to see more of the creature that Remus had shown them in their previous lesson. Remus
had wondered for a while whether there wasn’t something else Seamus wanted to talk to him
about, but he never pressed. If there was, Remus was sure that Seamus would tell him when he was
ready.

“Are you looking forward to summer vacation, Seamus?” Remus asked as he moved the closed
trunk with the boggart in it toward the cabinet in the back of his office, away from the patch of
sunlight.

“I suppose,” Seamus muttered, but when Remus glanced back at him, there was a slight frown on
his face. He hesitated, then, after a moment, added: “The Quidditch World Cup’s this summer. Me
mam says we can go.”

“That sounds nice,” Remus said, smiling to himself as he pushed the trunk into the bottom of the
cabinet and closed it. “You’re a fan of Quidditch, then?”

“‘Course,” Seamus said, and Remus turned back to him, giving him a smile. Seamus stood
awkwardly in the room now, near the window and the Grindylow, as if he wasn’t quite sure what
to do with himself anymore. “I mean, it’s the best sport, innit? Dean likes football, and it looks
alright, but no one flies, do they?”

“Is Dean Muggle-born, then?” Remus asked curiously. He’d been wondering for a while whether
Dean Thomas might be related to Sam Thomas, James’ old Quidditch Captain when they’d been at
Hogwarts, but hadn’t thought it an appropriate question to ask. Thomas was a common enough
name, after all.

“S’far as he knows,” Seamus said, shrugging.

Remus wondered what that meant, but thought it would be an intrusion to pry further.

“So is Dean going to the World Cup, too?” he asked, grabbing the box containing the portable
swamp he’d used and putting it into the cabinet as well.

Seamus stepped forward automatically to grab the boxes with the Red Caps and followed Remus,
shoving them into the cabinet a little roughly.

“I’m gonna ask me mam can we bring him,” he said. “I hope he comes. Won’t be as much fun
without him.”

Remus nodded and grabbed the box with the Hinkypunk last, stowing it away under his desk.
When he straightened, he found that Seamus was still standing in the middle of the room, looking
slightly lost. Remus raised his eyebrows slightly but smiled kindly at the boy.

“Anything on your mind, Seamus?” he asked.

Seamus looked startled, as if he had no idea how Remus had cracked the code that Seamus wasn’t
just standing awkwardly in his office for no reason.

“Nothing,” Seamus squeaked out in a voice much higher than his usual tones, and Remus gave him
a politely disbelieving look.

“Well, if you wanted to talk about anything, it would be alright,” he said, moving behind his desk
and taking a seat, smiling at Seamus gently. “I wouldn’t tell anyone anything you told me.”
“There’s nothing,” Seamus repeated, shaking his head. “I’m all good.”

“Okay,” Remus said, raising his eyebrows. “But you’re still standing there.”

Seamus flushed deep red and glanced at the door, as if he wasn’t sure if he should bolt or if he had
the nerve to stay. Remus smiled and gestured toward the seat in front of his desk.

“Why don’t you sit down?” he suggested.

Seamus hesitated for a moment, then scurried into the seat in front of Remus’ desk. He glanced
back at the door, which was open, and Remus, understanding, rose to shut it. When Remus
resumed his seat, Seamus was looking down at the desk, wringing his hands in his lap. Remus
watched him in silence for a few moments, his gaze gentle as he waited for Seamus to say what he
needed to.

“S’nothing, really,” Seamus finally started, still not looking directly at Remus. There was another
long pause, where Seamus seemed to steal himself for what he was going to say before speaking
again. “I just—Idontwannagohome.”

He blurted out the last five words as if they were one, and Remus’ brows shot up in surprise and
alarm quickly. He leaned forward, eyes trained on Seamus intently.

“Is something going on at home?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm for Seamus’ sake.
“Something you need to tell someone about?”

Seamus looked up at him in alarm for a moment, looking at Remus in the eye now, and shook his
head vigorously. “There isn’t,” he denied quickly. “That’s not what I meant.”

“You can tell me if there is,” Remus said, concern flooding into his voice. “I can help.”

Remus remembered Sirius all those years, the moods he’d get in right before the summer: the
anger, the frustration, the nervous energy that no one had known how to make better, but which
they’d all known was due to the fact that he was soon to return to the house he hated.

“I swear, it’s not that,” Seamus promised, turning beet red with apparent embarrassment, but
keeping his blue-green gaze intent upon Remus.

Remus leaned back and nodded, relief flooding him at the sincerity in Seamus’ expression.

“Why don’t you want to go home, then?” Remus asked, studying him with interest.

“I—I—” Seamus started, and his eyes flitted around the room as if he was trying to find a way out.
“There aren’t many people back home with me. S’just me mam and dad and cousins, and most of
me cousins are right tossers anyway.”

“You’ll miss your friends,” Remus said, nodding in understanding. Remus’ own summers away
from Hogwarts had been lonely, not that that hadn’t been primarily his fault. He’d always been
reluctant to invite his friends over, scared of breaching the invisible barrier between his life at
home and his life at Hogwarts.

“Everyone here lives far away,” Seamus lamented.

“Well, you can write them, can’t you?” Remus asked, trying to be encouraging.

Seamus shrugged, eyes downcast again.

“Dean isn’t good at writing letters,” he said. “He doesn’t have an owl with him, and I can only use
me parents’ one sometimes.”

He looked so forlorn that Remus wanted to reach out to touch his shoulder, make some comforting
gesture, but he held back.

“Well, he’ll probably stay with you for the Quidditch World Cup, and you’ll see him then, right?”
Remus asked.

Seamus nodded glumly and was silent for a moment as Remus tried to find something else to say.

Finally, the boy looked up and blurted out: “I just want him missing me like I’m gonna miss him.
He keeps going on about his Muggle friends from back home and seeing his siblings and his
family, and I just—” He colored again, and looked down at the desk, muttering the last words so
low that Remus could barely catch them. “Sometimes I just want him as miserable as me.”

Remus almost smiled, as it was about the most fourteen-year-old sentence that Seamus could’ve
uttered right then, but he didn’t. He watched Seamus carefully, where the boy sat with his head
ducked so that most of his face was hidden from view by his sandy hair, though what little Remus
could see of his skin was flushed bright red. His hands were still knotted in his lap, and Remus
realized with a sudden jolt of understanding that Seamus was shaking ever so slightly.

Oh, Remus thought, as realization flooded him. Oh. Seamus didn’t look up at him, and it was
almost like he was holding a vigil, or waiting for Remus to deliver some pronouncement onto him,
like that he was a bad person or a bad friend. But Remus didn’t speak, as he was trying to process
everything he’d just heard, trying to find something to say that would make it better, rather than
make Seamus run for the hills.

He remembered Lily’s words to him in their sixth year at Hogwarts, about him and Sirius: You
know, I always wondered about you two. With all her wisdom, it’d still not been the right thing to
say to Remus at the time, as it’d turned him quickly on the defensive, terrified and lashing out like
a cornered animal. He hadn’t been ready for even the implication that something was going on
between them. And Lily had been Remus’ friend…what could Remus possibly say to Seamus as a
teacher that would be in any way appropriate and not make the boy panic?

Remus remembered what it’d been like for him at Seamus’ age—when he’d felt small and a bit
afraid, staring across the circle in Spin the Bottle as he watched Sirius kiss Dorcas, and how that
had hurt, though he’d hardly been able to admit to himself that it had at the time. He remembered
that day in fourth year, too, when Sirius had fallen on top of him in Charms and how Remus hadn’t
been able to breathe for those few seconds as their gazes locked, faces inches from one another.
Sirius had picked a fight after that, and when they’d talked about it, years later, he’d admitted to
Remus that he’d done it because he’d been scared. They’d both been—just two boys starting to
realize something about themselves that they knew would make the world treat them like they
were dangerous and shameful. And by that point in his life, Remus had already known what it was
like to be treated that way and hadn’t wanted to invite more of it.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Seamus said at last, addressing the desk, his head still
lowered so that he didn’t have to look at Remus. The color in his cheeks was as brilliant as ever.

Remus took a deep breath and told him the thing that he’d most needed to hear when he was his
age. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Seamus.”

Seamus looked up at him, his gaze desperate, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “You don’t
understand,” he said, his voice weak. “I think I’m—I think I might be—” He broke off and shook
his head. He couldn’t say it, and Remus’ heart ached for the boy sitting in front of him.

“I think I do understand, Seamus,” Remus replied softly. “If you don’t feel like you can say it out
loud, that’s okay. You should know, though, that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with you.”

Seamus stared at him for a moment, his jaw clenching and unclenching as if he was chewing on the
words and unsure how to spit them out. “Dean’s my best friend,” he said finally. His expression
was stubborn, his mouth set into a straight line, eyes guarded. “I can’t ruin it. I don’t know what
I’d do if I ruined it.”

For a moment, Remus saw another boy sitting there, in Seamus’ seat—another ghost. Dark hair,
grey eyes, a stubborn expression just like Seamus’, staring across at him. Sirius at fourteen:
stubborn, angry, and hating himself. It was all Remus could do not to let the sadness show on his
face. The vision of Sirius disappeared after only a moment, and then Remus was just looking at
Seamus again. At that moment, Remus knew that there was an opportunity. Would things have
turned out differently if someone had been able to get through to Sirius at fourteen, if someone had
been able to make him believe that he didn’t have to be ashamed?

“You’re not ruining anything,” Remus replied gently, holding Seamus’ gaze. “Just because Dean is
your best friend doesn’t mean that it’s wrong to feel something more for him. Even if he doesn’t
feel the same way, I don’t think he’d mind.”

“But I shouldn’t,” Seamus said, closing his eyes. “I shouldn’t feel this way about another—” He
broke off, and his eyes darted around the classroom again before they settled back on the desk,
avoiding Remus’ gaze again.

Remus hesitated for a long moment, then steeled himself, before he said as calmly as he could:
“I’m gay.”

Seamus’ gaze, so fixated on the table a moment earlier, flicked to Remus’ at the speed of light, and
his eyes widened. Remus tried to keep his composure, keeping his expression calm and unbothered,
as if he hadn’t just revealed a vulnerable secret to a fourteen-year-old. It was still hard for him
sometimes to talk to people about his sexuality so openly, and Seamus was his student, yet he
thought that Seamus might need this.

“I spent many years trying to deny how I felt when I was your age,” Remus continued. “I know
what it’s like to grow up feeling like it’s something you have to keep hidden away. It’s hard, I
won’t lie to you, but it’s also not wrong to have feelings for other boys, and you don’t have to
spend your whole life in secret because of it. You don’t have to be alone.”

Seamus stared at him, eyes searching his face hungrily. He looked as if he was trying to sift
through millions of questions that he wanted to ask Remus, but his posture had straightened, and
his shoulders lifted slightly. He looked hopeful. Finally, he blurted out: “Do people know about
you? Does your family?”

Remus smiled slightly. “Yes, people know,” he said. “I told my friends that I was gay when I was
eighteen and still at Hogwarts. My family came a bit later, but they all accepted it. They were
pretty great about it, even.”

Seamus looked dumbstruck, but then his face fell again. “But Dean isn’t—”

He stopped, glancing up at Remus carefully, as if he didn’t know what word to use and was
suddenly cautious about offending him, too. Remus wanted to say that he’d grown up in the 70s,
and whatever word Seamus had been thinking of using wouldn’t faze him, but he didn’t. Instead,
he shrugged.

“Maybe not,” Remus said. “But he also could be, and you might never know it. I had a friend in
school, you know, when I was your age. I always thought it was impossible with him, too. It turned
out it wasn’t.”

“What happened?” Seamus asked curiously.

Remus’ heart sank for a moment as he thought of the honest answer he could give when it came to
what had happened with Sirius, but he tried not to let it show on his face. The tragic ending wasn’t
what Seamus needed now, after all.

“Well, it turned out that he’d felt the same way about me as I had about him for years,” Remus
explained. “We were both just scared of admitting it to each other, and when we did…well, it was
the best decision we ever made.”

Remus was surprised by the honesty in the statement, given the distinct lack of a fairy-tale ending
where he and Sirius were concerned, after all, but Remus still knew that he wouldn’t take any of it
back.

“The point is, Seamus,” Remus said, giving him a small smile. “It might not be Dean, in the end.
He might not feel the same way about you, but it doesn’t mean that there won’t be someone that
will. Having feelings for people the same gender as you isn’t a curse.”

Seamus stared at Remus across his desk, and Remus felt like he could see the cogs whirring in his
brain as he thought. After a moment, he nodded.

“Okay,” he said, and though there was a sort of caution in his voice, like he wasn’t sure yet if he
fully believed Remus, there was hope there, too.

Seamus stood, pushing the chair back. He looked a lot less agitated than he had before he’d sat
down, and Remus stood, too, giving him a smile.

“Thanks, Professor Lupin,” Seamus added as he moved away from the desk and toward the door.

“Of course,” Remus replied, reaching the door before Seamus and opening it, allowing Seamus to
exit. Pausing in the doorway, Seamus looked back.

“Do you think you’ll be back next year?” he asked tentatively.

Remus smiled, and he knew this time for certain that it reached his eyes. “I hope so,” he said, and
Seamus nodded, then disappeared from the landing, hurrying down to lunch.

Remus sighed and closed the door to his office, locking it carefully behind him. Turning back to
his desk, he rounded it and sat behind it, pausing for a moment to think, his head still full of the
memories of Sirius that the conversation had brought up. Then, he pulled out the desk drawer and
drew out the Marauder’s Map, unfolding it on the desk.

Raising his wand, he murmured, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” and watched the
map’s contents reveal themselves before his eyes.

He had to stop being afraid of the truth, too, had to stop pretending that not thinking about things or
saying them out loud made them go away. He wasn’t a kid anymore, and he knew better. He’d
promised Lily and James that he’d protect Harry in whatever way he could, and being too scared to
open an old map due to the memories was just stupid of him in the face of everything that Harry
 was up against. Whether or not Sirius was the same boy who’d helped Remus make this map,
whether or not he was truly trying to kill Harry like Dumbledore thought he was, Remus couldn’t
let the fear of the truth keep him from doing everything he could to protect Harry.

Remus knew that Harry wasn’t likely to have heeded his warning; he was James’ son, after all. He
knew that Harry would be out that night, probably going down to see Hagrid when his Hippogriff
was to be executed. If Remus couldn’t stop him, at least he could try and protect him. He scanned
the map’s surface for a moment, but Harry and his friends were still in the Great Hall, eating their
lunch. Remus’ stomach rumbled slightly, reminding him that he hadn’t had food in a while, and he
grabbed a biscuit from a tin on his desk, then removed a stack of tests from his sixth-year students
to grade. He placed them carefully on the desk next to the map and spent the next hours with his
gaze flitting between the map and his work.

When dinner arrived, Remus went downstairs to eat with the rest of the school, his eyes trained on
Harry. He, Ron, and Hermione all looked rather despondent, not speaking much as they ate, though
their eyes flickered around at the rest of the students as they did so. After they left, disappearing
into the crowd of students around them, Remus headed back up to his office to check the map
again, which confirmed his suspicions: their three labeled dots were moving close together, making
a bee-line down to Hagrid’s hut. Remus sighed out a frustrated breath. Of course, he’d known
exactly what Harry would do, and yet it still irked him that the boy wasn’t taking more
precautions. He was James and Lily through and through, not thinking of himself at all in the face
of his friend’s plight.

Their dots all merged with Hagrid’s for those twenty minutes they spent in his cabin, and during
that time, it was impossible to make out any of their names. Remus glanced outside the window,
taking in the cloudy sky of the night that was quickly creeping up on them, and wondering how
long Harry was planning on staying out, as it was already almost sunset. When he glanced back to
the map, however, he saw that the three dots were moving back up to the castle…but they weren’t
alone.

Remus stood up so quickly that he almost knocked his desk over in his hurry to move closer to the
light from the window. He brought the map with him, his heart beating a rapid rhythm against the
inside of his chest, as he squinted at the name, which was hard to make out, crowded between the
others in the group. It couldn’t be…but there it was, clear as day. Emerging like a ghost from
another time, impossible yet irrefutably present: Peter Pettigrew.

Even as he watched, Remus saw another dot approaching quicker than any other, zeroing in on the
little group. It collided with them, then, quick as a flash, tugged the two dots labeled Ronald
Weasley and Peter Pettigrew into the passage below the Whomping Willow, and out of sight. He
watched the dot until it disappeared out of the range of the castle grounds, reading the name over
and over again before it vanished, as a mix of shock and confusion and hope thumped through his
veins to the time of his heart: Sirius Black.

Remus dropped the map back to his desk and dashed for the door, not looking back. Damn his fear,
this was the time for answers.

Chapter End Notes

This chapter obviously includes a lot of references to the third Harry Potter book
because it takes place squarely in that timeline, but I don’t think any of them are too
confusing, though I tried not to rewrite too many whole scenes because I find that
kinda boring. That’s why I’m also not including the scene where Remus sees Sirius
again and tells their whole story to Harry, Ron, and Hermione because I wouldn’t be
changing enough of the original book scene to feel like it would be a worthwhile use
of my already insane word count for this fanfic. I welcome you to fill in the gaps
yourself by re-reading parts of that book (a physical copy if you already own it or you
can find a free pdf online by searching “Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban pdf”
on Google). The free pdfs are a godsend for me writing this fanfic because they’re
how I double-check facts, dialogue, and other stuff.

I had the idea of Remus giving either Dean or Seamus an “it’s okay to be gay” talk
very early on into writing this fic, and I loved writing it so much that it inspired me to
write a one-shot Deamus fic called “come back when you can,” so that’s also up now
if you wanna go check it out :)
 1994: The Other Shoe
Chapter Notes

cw: graphic depictions of violence

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Remus didn’t fall apart as soon as he turned up on Hestia and Emmeline’s doorstep at the end of
June. No, it took a little longer, after Emmeline had pushed a cup of tea into his hand and after he’d
explained it all to them in soft, short sentences. He didn’t drink the tea, just looked down into it for
a long time, as if it could give him something he’d lost and found and lost all over again in short
succession. It was after the questions, which Emmeline and Hestia tried hard to keep to a minimum,
seeing the state he was in, but couldn’t help all the same.

It was after all of that that Remus really broke, and Emmeline saw the moment where it happened.
She saw the moment when he curled in on himself, and Hestia must’ve seen it, too, because she
reached out a hand to cover Remus’, and he looked up, the look in his blue eyes heartbreaking to
see, and that was when he started to cry.

He didn’t need to speak, really, or to tell them why. They knew what he would’ve said if he
could’ve found the air to say something between sobs: twelve years. Twelve years of Sirius being
in Azkaban. Twelve years of Remus trying to find a way to live in a world without his friends.
Twelve years of him trying to convince himself that the official story of what had happened was
true. Twelve years of mourning a friend who hadn’t really died, who’d instead been a traitor all
along. Twelve years of mourning the person Remus thought Sirius had been and had been told was
a lie, only to find later that he’d been right in the end. Twelve years of not believing himself, of
convincing himself over and over again that his instincts were untrustworthy, that his senses were
not to be believed, that he might even be crazy. Twelve years.

For Emmeline and Hestia there were realizations too—grief and pain and anger and shock. But
they knew that it was still Remus who’d lost the most to those in-between years, and it was a
familiar, almost comforting routine they settled back into, that of consoling a friend. They’d gotten
so good at this during the war years, after all—steady Emmeline and understanding Hestia, with
their ever-present shoulders to lean on, hands that stroked hair and wiped away tears. Emmeline
just hoped that Remus wouldn’t disappear afterward like Mary had.

Once Remus had calmed down slightly, Emmeline said: “I hope you gave Dumbledore a piece of
your mind after everything.”

Remus smiled, wiping his eyes a bit on the back of his hand. “Yeah, I did,” he admitted. “I—well,
that night so much was going on, and I was focused on keeping the kids safe and trying to help
them understand, too. But afterward…I just got angry.”

“As you should be,” Hestia said, nodding fervently. “After all the shit Dumbledore put you
through? You’ve had the right to scream at him for years.”

Remus smiled slightly, but there was a guilty look on his face. “Sometimes I still just feel like a
child again when I’m around him, though,” he said. “And I remember how much I owe him.”
Emmeline and Hestia both scoffed at the same moment. “You don’t owe him shit,” Emmeline
said, anger rushing through her.

Hestia nodded fervently. “He owes you,” she added. “He owes all of us, but especially you, after all
you did in the war for the Order. You were also the only one of us brave enough to tell him that
you didn’t think Sirius had done it, after everything, and you were right. If he’d just listened to you
back then…”

She trailed off, her gaze, which had been fixed on Remus’ face intently, becoming a little
unfocused. Remus had shut his eyes tightly again, and there was pain in his expression. He shook
his head.

“I wish I didn’t have to think about what would’ve happened if he’d listened to me,” he said. “I
wish I could not think about what could’ve been if we’d known it was Peter, back then. Everything
could’ve been different.”

Emmeline glanced toward Hestia, whose gaze was still a little hazy, her dark brown eyes troubled.
She was keeping a good front up, Emmeline thought, but inside, she knew that her best friend must
be tearing herself apart, bit by bit. Few had known about what Hestia and Peter had been to one
another during the war years, but Emmeline had been one of those few. As far as she knew, Remus
hadn’t been privy to the secret, and Emmeline knew that Hestia wouldn’t tell him, not now. She
wouldn’t let him know that he’d inadvertently shifted the horror of realizing that someone you’d
loved was a traitor onto her. Emmeline guessed that Hestia’s mind must be whirling a mile a
minute, trying to put everything together, and she knew that some of the answers wouldn’t be
pretty.

“So, he’s really gone?” Hestia finally asked, her voice quiet. “Peter? He really escaped?”

Remus nodded, burying his face in his hands and scrubbing them over it tiredly before looking
back up. “He’s gone,” he confirmed.“I don’t know how we’ll ever find him again, not in his
Animagus form.”

Neither woman had asked why Remus hadn’t told them about the Animagus secret before then. It
felt wrong to ask, though if Sirius had truly been the spy, it would’ve been damning not to mention
it. Still, Emmeline understood what it was like to feel bound by promises and continue to keep
secrets for people who were long past knowing or caring. James, Sirius, and Peter had become
Animagi for Remus during their Hogwarts years, after all, and perhaps Remus had still wanted to
keep the secret for the boys they’d been then. She couldn’t blame him for that.

“And Sirius?” Emmeline asked tentatively.

Remus shook his head, looking down at his hands, fingers interlocked. “I don’t know if he’ll ever
come back, either,” he said softly. “I didn’t exactly have the chance to ask him. By the time I came
to the next morning, he was gone again.”

Emmeline saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, and her heart ached for him.

“I just—” Remus started suddenly, looking across the room wildly as if he’d spotted something
urgent there. “God, I just wish people would stop leaving without saying goodbye. I know—I know
he couldn’t help it, but fuck.”

Emmeline put a hand on Remus’ shoulder, and he turned to meet her gaze. In his eyes, she could
see the anger and anguish clearly, after so many years of him hiding it from her. Remus had had to
say too many goodbyes to empty air for a lifetime, and Emmeline knew it’d been taking its toll on
him.

“You can be angry at him for all of it, even after everything he went through,” she said.

Remus let out a long, frustrated sigh, and shook his head.

“I am angry at him,” he said. “It’s—all this time, I never knew how to be angry at him, and what
for. Sometimes I managed to get angry at him for betraying us, but most of the time, I was too
confused to be able to feel it. Now I feel like I’m back in 1981 and I get to be angry at him again
for thinking that I was the spy, but that doesn’t feel quite right, either. I just—I just know that I’m
furious with him. I woke up the next morning and he was gone and I lost whatever fucking cool I
had that night, and now I’m just—just angry.”

There was another pause, where Remus took a deep breath and closed his eyes again. Then he said,
very quietly, so that both women could barely hear it: “I hated seeing him like that.”

Emmeline understood the sorrow in his voice, transformed quickly from anger only moments ago.
It was the constant battle that she knew, the confusing mess of emotions that formed when you
loved someone, were mad at them, and hurt for them, all at the same time.

“I suppose I’m back to the real world now,” Remus said bitterly. “Back to my life. No Sirius, no
Wolfsbane Potion, and no job.”

“We’re still here,” Hestia replied, giving him a sad smile as she stroked a light, comforting hand
over his hair. The far-away look was gone from her eyes, but they still appeared strangely hollow.
“If you ever need anything.” A look of doubt crossed her face, and she added: “I can try to see if I
can get access to some Wolfsbane Potion, but—”

“No,” Remus said, shaking his head in vehement denial of her offer. “I know you could lose your
job for giving it out without permission, Hestia. I appreciate the offer, I really do, but don’t risk
that for me.”

After Remus left that day, gone back to his flat no doubt to stare at a wall and let the thoughts in his
head run rampant, Emmeline and Hestia were quiet for a long time. Emmeline got up to do the
dishes, a task that she’d been about to start when he’d arrived that morning. Hestia stayed on the
couch, staring into space. For a while, Emmeline let her, not sure if the best thing was to try and
talk, or to let her mull things over for a while in her head. When Emmeline had finished putting
away the dishes, however, and Hestia was still sitting there with a blank look on her face,
Emmeline spoke.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, leaning back against the kitchen counter as she
examined her best friend.

Hestia started, her dark eyes focusing on Emmeline in the kitchen. She blinked, swallowed, and
shook her head slightly. Still, Emmeline could see the tears filling her eyes, belying her words.
Hestia bit her lip to contain a sob, and Emmeline rushed to sit next to her on the couch again.

“Hey,” Emmeline said, reaching out to put a hand on Hestia’s shoulder, just as she’d done with
Remus. “Hey, Tia, come on. Talk to me.”

“I—” Hestia’s lips parted slightly, letting out a soft sob before she covered it with her hand. She
closed her eyes, and tears slipped out, down her cheeks. “If I’d known…”

“You couldn’t have done anything,” Emmeline said, trying to reassure her, her hand moving to
make comforting circles on Hestia’s back. “It’s not your fault.”
Hestia opened her eyes, but she didn’t look at Emmeline, her gaze lowered. Emmeline was only
able to see her wet eyelashes as she blinked more tears from her eyes. “Dorcas…”

She trailed off, but Emmeline was stricken by the one word, realization flooding through her. She
remembered the letter Hestia had only brought herself to show Emmeline the previous summer,
containing Dorcas’ hurriedly scrawled words: You’re the only one who might be able to confirm
what I think I know…

Emmeline inhaled sharply, and Hestia’s gaze flicked up to hers as she did so, the look in them
something close to terror, though Emmeline wasn’t sure why. So Dorcas had known about Peter
and Hestia, too. She wondered if Hestia had told her of it, or if Dorcas had guessed. Emmeline
resumed her circles on Hestia’s back.

“You still couldn’t have saved her,” she said. “Even if you confirmed her theory, it still wouldn’t
have changed what happened to her, Hestia. It’s not your fault.”

The terror in Hestia’s gaze faltered and she closed them tightly again, shaking her head firmly as
more tears seeped from beneath her lashes. “You don’t understand, Emmeline,” she said, her
cracked voice barely a whisper. “I—I…back then I—” Her voice faltered again, unable to finish.

“You can’t torture yourself, Hestia,” Emmeline said, shaking her head and putting an arm around
Hestia’s shoulder, pulling her closer to her side. “Not over things that happened more than a decade
ago. You couldn’t have known, and it’s not your fault. It’s his.”

Her voice hardened as she thought of Peter, and how it was he who’d done all of this. He’d spent
twelve years hiding, pushing the blame and guilt onto Sirius, and now Hestia was bearing the brunt
of it, too. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.

Hestia just shook her head again and covered her face with her hands, beginning to cry harder.
Emmeline tightened her arm around Hestia’s shoulder, and Hestia didn’t pull away, even as she
shook. Eventually, Hestia stated that she just wanted to be left alone, and Emmeline let her make
her way to her bedroom and shut the door. Emmeline could still hear sobs issuing from it, and a
helpless, horrible feeling settled into her stomach, knowing that there was nothing that she could
do to make it better.

After a few hours of sitting on the couch and trying to get work done, Emmeline heard a knock on
the door. She wondered for a moment whether it was Remus again, but when she stood and strode
over to open it, she found Kingsley instead. Of course, she remembered, it was still Wednesday,
still just another day in most people’s lives, and to him, there was no reason he wouldn’t come over
as he always did. His brow furrowed as he took in her expression, no doubt registering her distress.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, his voice slow and steady as usual, though wrapped in concern,
too.

Emmeline sighed and waved him inside, closing the door behind him. “Not really,” she admitted.

Kingsley continued to look at her with brows raised, and Emmeline felt a sudden rush of sadness.
He’d been around for years, after all, and they’d become friends in that time. Still, he hadn’t been
in the Order for those war years, hadn’t experienced them in the way that she and Hestia had, and
though that hadn’t felt like an insurmountable barrier before, she now wasn’t sure how to speak to
him about it. Instead, she nodded her head to Hestia’s closed door.

“She’s in there,” she said. “I…I suppose I’ll let her tell you what’s going on.”
Kingsley glanced to Hestia’s closed door, which now was silent, and his expression morphed into
an even more concerned look. He looked to Emmeline, but she shook her head and just gestured for
him to enter again. After giving her a last, searching look, he stepped cautiously over to the door
and knocked. A murmur came from inside, which Emmeline couldn’t make out, but Kingsley
replied:

“It’s me, Hes.”

There was silence for a moment, then the door opened a crack, and Hestia allowed Kingsley
entrance, the door closing firmly again once he disappeared. Emmeline felt a flood of relief at the
sound of their voices starting up softly inside, Kingsley’s low and steady, no doubt asking Hestia
what was wrong, and Hestia’s higher voice responding. Hopefully, he’d be able to comfort her,
even if Emmeline couldn’t. Maybe, in this case, it helped that he hadn’t been around for everything
that had happened, all those years ago.

When Emmeline tried to turn back to her work, she realized quickly that she wouldn’t be able to
get anything else done that day. Therefore, Emmeline shoved into her sandals and ventured out into
the still-warm evening. Her destination in mind, she set out on the street, indifferent to the people
around her. Emmeline had never been scared to walk about London alone, even at night. She
supposed that part of it was that she’d lived here her whole life, and played on these streets with
her siblings and cousins since she could toddle. Of course, there was also the fact that Emmeline
doubted whether any common drunkard or mugger would stand a chance against her wand, but
luckily, she’d never had to use this advantage before.

With Emmeline’s long strides and fast pace, it only took her thirty minutes to walk to The Drunken
Witch pub, which had stayed a constant in her life ever since her teens. She had a sneaking
suspicion that the pub’s survival over the decades in the pricey city was due to more than just good
business, but Emmeline had never had qualms about performing Confundus Charms on greedy
landlords, so she never brought it up with Edna.

Stepping into the familiar space and seeing the older woman behind the bar brought a feeling of
relief over Emmeline. Edna looked up as she entered, almost as if she knew who it would be, and a
smile spread over her face, the lines at the corners of her mouth and near her eyes deepening with
the grin. Emmeline approached the counter, smiling back at Edna.

“Well, then, I haven’t seen you in a while,” Edna greeted Emmeline, grasping both of Emmeline’s
hands in her darker pair and pressing a kiss to each. She reached out and patted an affectionate hand
on Emmeline’s cheek. “How have you been, Emmy?”

Emmeline smiled and sat at the bar. “Oh, you know,” she replied, her tone light. “Keeping going,
aren’t I?”

Edna smiled, the fondness in her gaze clear as she reached under the bar to grab a glass and pour
Emmeline her usual drink. “You always do,” she said. “How’s your mama? I haven’t had much of
a chance to talk to her at synagogue lately. She still holding up alright alone?”

It was a familiar question, though it’d been a while since Emmeline’s father had died, and
Emmeline gave Edna a small smile in return. “She’s stronger than us all,” she said.

Her mother had been living in their old house alone for two years, now, since Emmeline’s father
had passed. Still, she always had people: Emmeline and Noah visited as much as they could, as did
Benjamin, though he now lived in Birmingham with his wife and two kids. Then there were
Emmeline’s aunts, cousins, and grandparents. All in all, Emmeline thought that they’d done a good
job at not letting her mother have too much quiet, even with her father gone. It hadn’t been just for
her mother’s sake that they’d done this, of course, but it’d helped to pretend like Esther was the
only one who needed taking care of, and her mother hadn’t protested much.

Edna nodded and pushed Emmeline’s drink across to her, looking at her with a slight tilt of her
head. “So what’s brought you to my neck of the woods?” Edna asked.

Emmeline knew from her look and her tone that she’d heard the news. Everyone had, of course.
Front page of the Daily Prophet that morning: SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPES AGAIN. Emmeline was
sure that the wizards and witches who’d ventured into the bar that day had been chattering up a
storm about it, though carefully, so as not to give anything away to the Muggles. Of course, only a
handful of people knew the whole truth, and she very much doubted that any of the pub-goers were
among them.

“I suppose I’ve got a lot on my mind tonight,” Emmeline said, taking a sip from her drink.

Edna nodded. “I bet you do,” she said, looking at Emmeline with a discerning gaze.

Emmeline gave a rueful smile and shook her head. “It’s not really what you think, Edna,” she said.
“It’s—well, I can’t really tell you everything, but…it’s not all bad. I suppose I’m almost
celebrating a little, even.”

Edna’s eyebrows shot up, but she only gave Emmeline an intrigued look and smiled. “I never was
able to get many answers out of you when it came to the things that happened in the war,” she said,
shaking her head in bemusement. “But if you’re celebrating, I won’t be too worried.”

Emmeline smiled and took another sip of her drink. In her mind, she toasted herself, saying: To
answers. To clarity. To the other shoe finally dropping after all these years of waiting. She
supposed, in a way, it was a celebration.

....

As soon as Emmeline and Hestia arrived in the woods where the Quidditch World Cup would be
held, Emmeline knew that it was sure to be as raucous as it was fun. A smile spread across her face
as she looked around, taking in the multicolored tents, many of which sported features that she
knew the Ministry would be scrambling to conceal from the Muggles.

Hestia, beside her, let out an impressed noise. “They really go all out, don’t they?” she remarked.

Emmeline grinned. “Clearly,” she agreed, gazing around as she tried to take everything in. The last
time the Quidditch World Cup had been held in Britain, Emmeline had been four years old, yet
she’d still been old enough to be jealous that her older cousins had gotten to attend without her, and
to remember the resentment years later.

“Where did the man say our campsite was, again?” Hestia asked, scanning the sites around them
with inquisitive eyes.

Emmeline shrugged, gesturing out toward the rows ahead of her. “Somewhere out here, I suppose,”
she said. “It should have Kingley’s name on it, right?”

“Yeah,” Hestia said, walking further through the tents and looking from side to side. “Perks of
dating an Auror. He said people were practically tripping over themselves to get him tickets.”

Emmeline smiled as she glanced over at a tent with a chimney on it, directly next to another that
was simply a cloak propped on sticks. The duality of man.
“Perks of dating Kingsley, I’d say,” Emmeline joked. “I swear I’ve never met anyone who dislikes
that man.”

Hestia smiled to herself, her eyes lighting up with a familiar sparkle that was reserved for only
special occasions these days, one of which was obviously when she was reminded of how much
she loved her boyfriend.

“One of many perks,” she said fondly.

Emmeline smiled and nudged her with her elbow. “You’re so embarrassing to be around
sometimes,” she teased, and Hestia laughed.

After walking another twenty minutes, they finally came to a small plot with a sign stuck in the
ground reading: SHACKLEBOLT. They set their things down and went about setting up the tent
they’d brought, which didn’t look like it would hold more than two people, but in actuality
contained three bedrooms, a kitchen, and a bathroom. Hestia set her things down happily in the
biggest of the three, and Emmeline was left to choose one of the other two. The remaining
bedroom would be for one of Kingsley’s friends from the Auror office, whom Emmeline had never
met before.

It was only a few hours later, after Hestia and Emmeline had made lunch and played a game of
cards outside of the tent—which Emmeline had won twice, after which Hestia pouted for thirty
minutes—that Kingsley showed up with his Auror friend in tow. Hestia leapt out of her camp chair
to greet him with a hug and a quick, smiling peck on the lips.

Kingsley gave Emmeline a nod and a smile. “Hey, Em,” he greeted, and she stood to give him a
friendly, one-armed hug. “Glad you could make it.”

“Thanks for getting us tickets,” Emmeline returned. “You two just got off work, then?”

“Yep, they just released us!” Kingsley’s friend chirped from his side, drawing Emmeline and
Hestia’s attention.

Kingsley smiled and turned to introduce them. “This is Tonks, the friend I told you about from the
Auror office.”

Tonks smiled crookedly at Emmeline and Hestia, giving them both a little wave. Emmeline was
startled at first by the Auror’s appearance, taking in their spiky pink hair and dark, twinkling eyes.
They were much younger than Emmeline had expected, and yet their clothes looked like
something that Emmeline thought Marlene might have worn to a rock concert back in the late 70s,
though they managed to not look out of place despite that fact.

Still, none of these things were what caught Emmeline off guard the most, rather, it was their
stance. The casual lean on one foot over the other, the hand on their hip, the air of easy grace…it
was all somehow familiar, but Emmeline couldn’t place where she’d seen it before. She also
wasn’t sure whether Tonks was a woman or a man, but Emmeline, having lived in London for
decades, knew that it might not be that simple, anyway.

“Thanks for letting me hang around,” Tonks said, still grinning. “Kingsley was right nice to get me
tickets, ‘specially after I’ve been talking his ear off about it for the past few months. Half expected
him to change his mind and tell me to bugger off, seeing as I follow him around work enough
anyway.”

Kingsley laughed his deep laugh, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Tonks is still a trainee at the office,”
he said, directing his words to Emmeline, as Hestia no doubt was already aware of the information.

“Not for much longer,” Tonks said cheerfully, bouncing on the balls of their feet. “Come
September, I’ll be on the same level as you, Shacklebolt, just you wait.”

Kingsley laughed again, no doubt at the young wizard’s gumption. “I think that’ll take a bit longer,
somehow,” he said. “And that’s only if you pass your tests. Your stealth factor still leaves much to
be desired.”

“I’m an asset and you know it,” Tonks said, grinning, obviously unfazed by Kingsley’s teasing.
“They won’t fail me on Stealth and Tracking, not with my penchant for Concealment and
Disguise.”

Then, to both Hestia’s and Emmeline’s amazement, Tonks screwed up their face in a rather
constipated expression, causing their hair to turn blond and fall down past their chin in curls. When
they opened their eyes, they were the clearest blue.

“Tonks is a Metamorphmagus,” Kingsley explained as Tonks laughed at Hestia’s and Emmeline’s

shocked expressions.

In another moment, Tonks’ previous appearance returned, and they beamed at the rest. “Like I said,
the Auror office would be crazy to let me go,” Tonks said, and Emmeline found herself smiling in
bemusement. Tonks was strange, to be sure, but it was a refreshing sort of strange.

Tonks looked over at the tent and beamed. “Alright if I put my shit down?” they asked, then,
without waiting for an answer, ducked in through the flap.

Hestia turned to Kingsley, grinning and shaking her head. “I thought you’d been exaggerating
when you told me about Tonks,” she said. “But now I think that you might’ve even toned down
some details.”

Kingsley smiled and chuckled. “That’s Tonks for you,” he said, and Emmeline could hear the
affection in his voice. “She’s a firecracker. Hopefully, she won’t break anything while she’s
inside.”

The sound of a soft clang from inside the tent made Kingsley wince. Emmeline understood now
why he’d said that Tonks was weak in the areas of stealth and tracking.

“So Tonks is a woman, then?” Emmeline asked a little awkwardly, but wanting to clarify so that
she didn’t make a misstep in front of Tonks themselves.

Kingsley shrugged. “Sometimes,” he answered, his tone casual. “I’ve asked, and it seems like he’s
content with however you want to refer to him. She’s not exactly one or the other, I’ve gathered, at
least not all of the time.”

“Good to know,” Hestia said. There was another clang from inside the tent, as if Tonks had
dropped something, and she furrowed her eyebrows. “Should we check—?”

“That’d probably be best,” Kingsley agreed, and all three ducked into the tent to see what was
going on.

....

That night, after the end of the game, all four of them were still extremely revved up, and sat
outside their tent around a fire, discussing the match excitedly for hours.
“The Irish Chasers were really something, weren’t they?” Tonks exclaimed, her foot tapping out an
excited rhythm as her knee bounced on the ground. “Really stole it for Ireland!”

“The Bulgarian Keeper was no match,” Emmeline agreed, smiling as she lifted a Butterbeer bottle
to her lips. “Shame, really. I honestly can’t believe Bulgaria made it to the final. I mean, other than
Krum, who do they really have? He pulls much more than his share of the weight.”

“I don’t know, Volkov and Vulchanov were pretty impressive,” Kingsley disagreed, shrugging his
shoulders.

Emmeline smiled, tipping her bottle at him in acknowledgment. “True,” she agreed. “Merlin, this
makes me think of those days at Hogwarts. We really had a good team, didn’t we?”

Kingsley smiled, wearing his own reminiscent gleam in his dark eyes. “We were unbeatable,” he
said. “Remember my first year on the team, when we took down Ravenclaw and Marlene broke
their Captain’s nose after the game?”

Emmeline and Hestia both laughed, and Emmeline found that the memory didn’t bring the usual
sadness with it, either. Of course, Marlene would’ve loved to be here; they all would’ve. Yet
remembering Marlene in all her glory—blood dripping down her face as she punched Eleanor
Williams with a hand still wrapped around the Golden Snitch—just made her smile.

“Sirius had already broken the Captain’s collarbone with a Bludger before that, too,” Hestia added,
grinning, her eyes sparkling in the firelight. “They really showed her.”

Kingsley laughed. “Yeah, I remember,” he said, a fond smile still plastered on his face.

Emmeline thought how much better it was for him, now, knowing that Sirius hadn’t been a traitor
after all and that Kingsley hadn’t looked up to him in vain.

Emmeline’s gaze fell on Tonks, then, and froze for a moment at the pensive look on his face,
remembering that he didn’t know what they did about Sirius. Her cheekbones were illuminated by
the firelight, and with the furrow of her brows, Emmeline felt another flicker of something like
recognition, though she still couldn’t place where it came from. Finally, it was Tonks who asked
the question.

“Are you talking about Sirius Black?”

The smile on Hestia’s face seemed to freeze, too, as she glanced over to Tonks, no doubt realizing,
like Emmeline had, that they’d spoken far more openly about Sirius than they should’ve around
the young wizard. Kingsley met Emmeline’s gaze across the fire for a moment and leaned forward,
clearing his throat slightly. He glanced beside him to Hestia, next, as if asking what they wanted to
do. Tonks, next to Emmeline, was watching the exchange with slightly narrowed eyes.

“I’m not stupid, you know,” Tonks said, breaking the silence again, a slight edge to her voice. “I
can see you all trying to figure out what to say. So what? You knew him? What’s the big deal? So
far as I’ve heard, he wasn’t so bad when he was younger.”

Tonks’ gaze flickered down to his Butterbeer bottle, and if Emmeline wasn’t much mistaken, she
thought she saw a slight tinge of red on his cheeks. When his gaze flickered back up to meet
Emmeline’s, there was the same anger in it, a challenge that gave Emmeline pause.

Kingsley leaned forward, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Who did you hear that from?” he asked,
looking at Tonks as if he was suddenly seeing her for the very first time.
Tonks glanced away from Emmeline toward Kingsley and crossed her arms protectively over her
chest. She hesitated for a moment, then muttered: “My mum.”

“Did your mum know him?” Hestia pressed, leaning forward breathlessly as she waited for the
response.

Perhaps it was the look of open curiosity, rather than hostility, that made Tonks relax slightly and
nod. “They’re cousins,” he said. “They grew up together.”

“Your mum…?” Emmeline asked, but her words trailed off as her eyes widened in recognition.
“Your mum is Andromeda Black, isn’t she?”

“Andromeda Tonks,” Tonks amended, frowning over at Emmeline. “Tonks is my last name.”

Across the campfire, Hestia’s mouth had fallen open, and Emmeline was staring at Tonks, taking
her in in a whole new light. It all made sense, now, of course, those mannerisms that had felt so
familiar. They’d reminded her of Sirius. Now, Emmeline could suddenly see the echoes of Sirius in
Tonks’ cheekbones, the curve of his lips, and the shape of his eyes. Tonks’ were brown, not grey,
but they held the same sparkle in them. Emmeline now remembered Sirius talking about
Andromeda’s kid, comparing photos of what must’ve been a much younger Tonks with Gideon and
Fabian’s pictures of Molly’s children, and arguing that his niece was much cuter.

“You knew him, too, didn’t you?” Emmeline asked, and she was surprised to hear her voice thick
with sudden emotion.

Tonks still looked wary but nodded. Emmeline cleared her throat and looked around at the group
around the fire, which was now very quiet, though there were still the sounds of raucous
celebration in the background.

“So did we.”

“From Hogwarts?” Tonks asked, and his voice was suddenly higher, more vulnerable than it’d
been before.

“And later,” Hestia said quietly, staring across at Tonks.

Tonks looked to Kingsley, who was staring back at her, his eyes wide and expression more
unguarded than his usual calm demeanor. As if to answer Tonks’ unspoken question, he nodded
slowly, then cleared his throat.

“I knew him from Hogwarts, too, a bit,” he said, sounding a little shaken, though he was clearly
trying to regain steadiness in his voice. “He—we were Beaters together for two years on the
Gryffindor Quidditch team.”

“Oh,” Tonks said, looking down at her drink, and taking a deep breath. “Oh.”

Emmeline could see the hurt on his face that came with the realization that the people around him
had known the man who he must’ve considered his uncle much better than he’d ever gotten to.
Perhaps it was also fear, too, because she now knew that these must be some of the people who
Sirius had hurt the most with his purported betrayal. It was that thought that made Emmeline lean
forward, not quite knowing whether she should be saying this, or how to say it, but feeling that she
needed to.

“He’s not what people say he is,” Emmeline said in a rush.

 Across the fire, Emmeline saw Hestia twitch, and Kingsley shift uneasily in his seat, but neither of
them spoke or moved to stop her. Tonks looked up at Emmeline, his brows furrowed in something
like suspicion, eyes narrowing as he looked at her.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

That was when the first explosion went off.

At first, Emmeline thought it was just the Irish supporters again, but a few seconds later, the camp
fell deadly silent. The heads of the four around the campfire all shot up, turning toward the noise
with the air of people who had much experience with disaster. In the distance, Emmeline saw a
plume of smoke rising up into the air, and she knew this was no display of country pride.
Adrenaline coursed through her veins, and she leapt out of her seat, her action mirrored in the three
people around her, who all drew their wands in unison.

The silence of the campsite broke quickly when screams rent the night air, and hundreds of people
began rushing in each direction. The sound of another blast came to them through the night and
Kingsley swore under his breath, racing in the direction of the noise without a second glance back
at the rest, Tonks hot on his heels. Emmeline doused their little fire quickly with a jet of water from
her wand before racing after them, Hestia a few steps ahead, her dark hair whipping behind her.

As they drew closer to the noises, Emmeline was buffeted by the panicked crowd, surrounded by
the sounds of rapid breathing and cries of fear and pain as people bumped into one another and
tried to find their loved ones as they ran. Still, Emmeline’s gaze was fixed ahead on the flashes of
light and the source of the sounds of explosions, and though part of her wanted to run far away, run
into the woods like the stampeding crowd and never look back, she continued to move forward.
She kept her eyes fixed on Hestia’s dark head of hair in front of her, Tonks’ bright pink locks a
little further ahead, and Kingsley’s bald pate in the lead, all bobbing like buoys in the ocean of
people.

When Emmeline reached the edge of the crowd, she jerked to a halt, almost bumping into Tonks,
who was now standing stock still and staring up into the sky. Emmeline took a deep breath, then
another, and followed Tonks’ gaze, dreading what she’d see. Emmeline’s blood ran cold at the
sight of four floating people in the air high above their heads: two adults and two children. A rush
of nausea passed over her as other images forced their way into her mind, dozens of them: people
lying on the ground, motionless. Small bodies, contorted. Screaming.

The screaming seemed to be coming from inside Emmeline’s head, now, too, as well as from
around her, but she tried to block it out, tried to assess the situation like she’d done a hundred times
before in her late teens and early twenties when things like this had happened every week.

Beside Emmeline, Hestia had clapped her hands over her mouth, shaking her head and saying
something through her fingers, over and over. It took a while for Emmeline to make out the words:
“Oh God, oh God…”

Emmeline tore her gaze away from the people in the sky and down toward the marchers, all of
whom were hooded and masked. The cold seeped right through her, down to her bones, and the
words entered her mind without her consent: It’s starting again.

Chapter End Notes

You can’t even imagine how excited I am to introduce Tonks as an adult in this story!!
I love her so fucking much.

I imagine Tonks as genderfluid and nonbinary, and being fine with any pronouns.
That’s why I’m using he/him and she/her for Tonks interchangeably. ‘They’ is only
really used by Emmeline while she’s trying to figure out how to refer to Tonks, though
I think Tonks would be very down with they/them pronouns as well, it’s just that those
weren’t very commonly used back then, as I stated in my note at the end of chapter 91.

You’ll notice also that in future chapters, pronoun use for Tonks shifts based on the
awareness of the person whose perspective I’m writing from about Tonks’ gender
identity. That’s because this fic is told from a third-person limited perspective (for the
most part, I know I occasionally break into omniscient for ominous foreshadowing and
stuff, lol). So, for instance, in a future chapter, Sirius will start out thinking of Tonks
only as using she/her pronouns then shift later once he’s aware of Tonks’ gender
identity.
 1995: The Reunion
Chapter Notes

Relationship angst ahead :) Honestly, it's just refreshing to write this kind of angst vs.
the much darker, all-my-friends-are-dying/dead brand of angst.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

On the last day of June 1995, ten months after the events of the Quidditch World Cup, Sirius stood
in the shade of the London buildings rising up around him, his furry head tilted up to gaze at the
one directly across the street from where he stood, which seemed unchanged in the nearly fourteen
years since he’d set foot inside. A few people glanced at him as they passed, though none of them
stopped, too preoccupied with wherever they were headed to spend much time thinking about the
dog standing alone in the middle of a London sidewalk. Sirius ignored them, relying on the same
mind-your-own-business attitude of Londoners that had kept him from being bothered as a child,
out on his own in the bustling metropolis.

His gaze scanned up the building, trying to find the window behind which, even now, Remus
might be making tea or reading a book, unaware of Sirius’ presence just outside. It’d been a year
since he’d last seen Remus, a year since he’d had to flee from Hogwarts on Buckbeak’s back and
go into hiding once again. It’d been a year full of more troubles than Sirius could’ve imagined, and
yet it’d also been a year of freedom, a year during which his fear of being captured again by the
Ministry had ebbed, even as his anxiety over other matters grew. And in that year, Sirius could
admit that he’d thought often of the moment when he’d stop running and face Remus again. Still,
that hadn’t stopped him from delaying the moment as long as he could.

After leaving Harry at Hogwarts, and after the disastrous events of the Triwizard Tournament,
Sirius had followed Dumbledore’s instructions to alert the old members of the Order of the Phoenix
of Voldemort’s return. He’d started with Mundungus Fletcher, counting on the fact that Dung
would be the least suspicious of him, though Sirius had still given the wizard a good scare when
he’d turned up at one of his hiding places. Mundungus had accepted his story at face value,
however, and found a friend who would take care of Buckbeak for the time being while Sirius
contacted the other members of the Order. Mundungus had also found Sirius a wand. Sirius hadn’t
asked where he’d gotten it from, as Sirius had learned that with Dung, you should only ask
questions that you truly wanted to know the answers to.

With a wand, it was easier for Sirius to get around, and he visited the other remaining members of
the Order quietly, giving a practiced explanation to each, which he knew would be later confirmed
by Dumbledore. There weren’t many to tell, really, as most of the members of the old Order were
dead. Still, Sirius went to see Arabella Figg, Dedalus Diggle, and Sturgis Podmore in quick
succession. It’d taken quite a bit of convincing to get Sturgis not to murder him on the spot, and he
hadn’t removed his wand from Sirius until the end of the visit. After that, Sirius had finally set out
to see Hestia and Emmeline.

Their visit had been the longest, but also the only one that hadn’t started with him at wandpoint, as
they’d already heard from Remus the previous year that Sirius hadn’t been the spy in the Order
after all. Sirius wasn’t surprised that Remus had kept in touch with the two witches, though from
their conversation, he gathered that the relationship wasn’t extraordinarily close. It was a rather
uncomfortable visit, too, and Sirius could tell that there was much more that both of them wanted
to say to him, guilt in their eyes that they wanted to express, but they allowed him to deflect it,
leaving it to be addressed at a later date.

Emmeline and Hestia insisted on him staying for dinner, obviously registering—but being too
tactful to comment on—his thin and haggard appearance, but they finally let him go around eight
that evening. When he’d asked Hestia and Emmeline where Remus was staying, though, they’d
shared a look, then both turned back to him to ask: “Don’t you know?”

Hestia’s expression showed surprise, Emmeline’s hesitation, as if they were about to break some
bad news to him. Sirius shook his head, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“He stayed in London,” Emmeline said, her expression still cautious.

“Where?” Sirius asked impatiently.

The two women shared another look, but it was Hestia who finally broke the news. “The same
place, Sirius,” she told him. “He’s where you left him fourteen years ago.”

Sirius had to keep from bristling at the hint of an accusation in her words, but his mind reeled at the
information. It’d never occurred to Sirius until then that Remus might’ve stayed at the flat; not in
all those years of wondering where he was and what he was doing had Sirius imagined that Remus
might be just where he’d left him. He’d assumed that Remus would’ve wanted to leave his past
with Sirius behind after the war, but perhaps he hadn’t wanted to—or simply hadn’t been able to—
leave the flat in the end.

In the present, Sirius finally shook himself out of his reverie and bounded across the darkening
crosswalk in his Animagus form, taking no notice of the passers-by who gave him confused looks
once more, and trotted down the block until he reached the entrance of the building. There, he
hesitated for a moment, looking around, then moved into the shadows of the entrance and
transformed back into his human form. Turning his face away from the street lest he be
recognized, Sirius turned to the buzzer panel and pressed the number seventy-seven. For a moment,
there was silence, then he heard the buzz of the door clicking open. Glancing at it in surprise,
Sirius only allowed himself a moment’s hesitation before pulling it open and giving the street a
final glance before dashing into the lobby and toward the lifts.

Once inside, Sirius jammed his finger to the up button and heard the familiar clatter of a lift
moving down to meet him. Sirius thought it was strange that this building looked so much the
same as it had when he’d left it—even the lifts were as old and creaky as they’d ever been. When
the lift opened, Sirius hurried inside, pressing the number seven and bouncing on the balls of his
feet as it shuddered into motion.

As it rose slowly through the floors, Sirius wondered whether he shouldn’t turn back into a dog,
though anyone getting on would surely be very confused by the sight of a dog alone in a lift. Still,
it would be better than them coming across alleged mass murderer Sirius Black. A small, sardonic
smile appeared on Sirius’ face at the thought, accompanied by a wave of self-loathing. No one
came onto the lift before the seventh floor, however, and Sirius walked to the door of the flat
without incident.

Sirius paused outside the door for a long moment, staring at the number on it as if he could see
inside already. He took a deep breath and let it out, then another. Once the pause had grown far too
long, Sirius reached up tentatively and wrapped his knuckles on the door. He heard the soft sound
of footsteps inside and had time to register his heartbeat speeding up before it opened, revealing
Remus standing before him.
Remus looked much like he had the previous year when Sirius had seen him in the Shrieking
Shack. His light brown hair was streaked with premature grey, a scar ran across his face that hadn’t
been there fourteen years before, and he looked more worn and tired than he had when Sirius had
known him. It’d been a shock the first time he’d laid his eyes on Remus after twelve years, as he’d
spent so much of his time in Azkaban with an imagined Remus who’d looked just as he’d done
when Sirius had left. And yet this version of Remus was still Remus, unlike Sirius, who felt like a
completely different person.

“Hello,” Remus said slowly, giving Sirius a look up and down, and Sirius wondered if there was a
tinge of amusement in his eyes.

“Hey,” Sirius responded in a croak, then cleared his throat hastily, realizing as he did so that he’d
been staring.

Remus gave him another long look, then jerked his head back into the flat. “Come in,” he said.

Sirius hesitated before stepping over the doorstep, wondering for a moment whether he’d step back
in time the moment he did, and not even sure if he wanted that or not. After a pause, however, he
breached the entrance of the flat, and Remus turned to walk back inside, allowing Sirius to lock the
door behind them.

Sirius took off his shoes automatically, though he vaguely wondered whether his socks were
actually cleaner, then walked from the hallway to the common area, looking around. He noted as
he did so that not much had changed in the flat since 1981. There was another bookshelf next to
their original one, leaning against the wall, and Remus had gotten a TV, but there was still the
same couch and chairs, the same shag rug on the floor, the same coffee table, and even some of the
same posters on the walls. Sirius wondered why Remus hadn’t removed them, as many had been
his originally, but shoved the curiosity away, knowing that there were far more important things
for them to talk about just then.

“Tea?” Remus asked from behind Sirius.

Sirius turned to see him filling the kettle in the sink, looking up at Sirius with raised eyebrows.

Sirius nodded. “Sure,” he said. “Thanks.”

Remus nodded and placed the kettle on the stove, tapping it with his wand, steam beginning to
issue from the spout almost immediately. Sirius walked over to the kitchen and sat at the counter,
making sure to keep some distance between himself and Remus as he did so. He watched Remus’
back as he removed the tea bags from the cupboard and placed them in two mugs.

“Why didn’t you ask who it was? With the buzzer,” Sirius asked after a moment.

Remus turned and raised his eyebrows at Sirius before leaning over to grab the now boiling kettle
and pour water into both mugs. “I knew it’d be you,” he replied as if it were obvious. “I’ve been
expecting you for days, and Hestia sent me a message ahead.”

“Oh,” Sirius replied, not quite sure what else to say as he accepted the mug that Remus handed
him. He realized as he did so that his hands were dirty. Hestia had offered him a shower in addition
to dinner, but Sirius had refused, not wanting to delay seeing Remus any further. He hoped that he
hadn’t been knocking people down with his stench over the past couple of days. Perhaps there had
been more than one reason that Sturgis had kept him at bay with his wand. He suddenly felt very
self-conscious.
Sirius looked up at Remus, noticing as he did so that Remus’ gaze was trained on him, studying
him as he leaned against the counter. Sirius could tell just by looking that Remus knew that Sirius
had delayed coming to see him until the very last moment. Of course he knew; he was Remus, after
all. It was a similar look to the ones he’d given Sirius in the last few months of the first war, when
he’d known about Sirius’ suspicions that he’d been the spy. It hurt Sirius to see that look again,
though he knew he still deserved it.

“I should’ve come sooner,” Sirius admitted after a long pause. “I just didn’t know what to say, to be
honest.”

“Hello might’ve been a start,” Remus replied wryly.

Sirius swallowed and nodded. Still, he was almost glad that Remus was angry at him, if he was
reading the emotion on Remus’ face right. Sirius didn’t think he could tolerate easy acceptance, as
he knew he didn’t deserve it.

Remus stared at Sirius from where he was standing a few yards away, head tilted slightly to one
side as if he knew exactly what Sirius was thinking. There was a glint of frustration in his blue
eyes, yet he didn’t say anything else. Sirius realized that Remus must be waiting for him to speak,
remembering as he did so that he had, after all, come here for a reason other than to hash out the
past between them.

“How much do you know about what happened?” Sirius asked, leaning his elbows on the counter,
hands still wrapped around his mug.

Remus gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I’ve heard a few rumors,” he said. “Alaric and El have their
ears to the ground, as usual, but the details are hazy.”

“Alaric?” Sirius echoed, surprise blooming in him. “He’s still around?”

It’d been so many years since he’d heard that name, or thought of Remus’ protege amongst the
werewolves, that he’d almost forgotten that Alaric existed. The memory of Remus’ stories about
the younger man appeared to Sirius as many memories did these days: dug out of a dark pit where
they’d been buried during his time in Azkaban.

Remus nodded, glancing down at his mug in his hands for a moment. “Yeah, he’s been a constant,”
he said. “Stayed here for a while, actually, after…everything.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes slightly as he looked at Remus, suddenly wondering whether there was a
reason Remus wasn’t meeting his gaze. The burst of jealousy was completely out of bounds, Sirius
knew, but when Remus raised his gaze again to meet Sirius’, he still couldn’t help his next
question.

“He stayed here?” Sirius asked, trying to keep his voice nonchalant and not let bitterness in.

“Yeah,” Remus replied, his eyes not giving anything away as he looked back at Sirius. Sirius knew
that Remus was reading him like a book, however, from the challenging look he was now giving
him.

“I figured I didn’t have to ask your permission to let someone else stay here,” he said. “Seeing as
you were gone.”

Sirius swallowed but tried to push his jealousy away in an attempt to return the conversation to a
more neutral place. “Well, it’s your place more than mine, now,” he said.
Remus raised his eyebrows at him, and Sirius realized that perhaps the words hadn’t come out the
exact way he’d wanted them to. He hurried to amend the statement. “I mean, I’m glad you stayed.
It’s the least—well, the least you deserved, after everything.” After everything I did to you, he
added silently in his head.

Remus was still gazing at him with slightly narrowed eyes, but he nodded. He didn’t thank Sirius,
but Sirius hadn’t wanted him to. Instead, Sirius launched into the story of what had happened
during the previous year, which felt like a safer topic, ridiculous as that idea was, given the
seriousness of it. It took a while for them to get through it all, with many questions on Remus’ end.
Still, when Sirius finished, Remus nodded thoughtfully, seeming satisfied with the explanation.

“So Dumbledore’s gearing up again, like last time, is he?”

Sirius exhaled a slow breath and nodded. “Yeah,” he replied, his gaze fixed intently on Remus’
face. “He is.”

“And will it be the same as last time?” Remus asked, meeting Sirius’ gaze with eyebrows raised, a
challenge in his blue eyes.

As they locked gazes, Sirius knew Remus wouldn’t refuse, wouldn’t back down. He also knew
that Remus was angry, angry perhaps with him, or Dumbledore, or the world, or all the things that
had happened all those years ago. Yet he’d do it, just as Sirius would, for Harry, and for all the
dreams they’d dreamed when they’d been practically children.

“I hope not,” Sirius replied, breathing out a long sigh. “But I don’t have much of a choice, do I?
I’m still a wanted man.”

Remus nodded, examining Sirius. “Yes,” he said, after a moment. “Where were you planning on
staying, anyway?”

He didn’t ask the question with any sharpness in his voice, but Sirius recoiled slightly at the words
anyway, feeling distinctly sheepish about his assumption that Remus would let him remain in the
flat. It’d been Dumbledore who’d said that he should stay with Remus, but obviously the
headmaster hadn’t clued Remus in on that plan.

Sirius’ gaze lowered, and he mumbled: “I…well, I hoped—”

He broke off, looking up to Remus, whose brows were raised slightly in surprise, clearly realizing
what Sirius was asking of him. Sirius couldn’t tell whether his reaction was positive or not. When
in those twelve years in prison had Sirius forgotten how to read Remus’ expressions, Sirius
wondered with no small amount of panic. Or was it that Remus had changed too much in that time
for Sirius to understand him?

“I can try to find somewhere else, though, if you can’t—I mean, it’s your flat, after all,” Sirius
finished lamely.

“You still own it,” Remus pointed out. Sirius opened his mouth to say that that really didn’t matter,
not after all those years, but Remus gave him a look that stopped him. “You can stay here, Sirius,
don’t be an arse.”

Then he was giving Sirius a look that was almost amusement, mixed with his earlier frustration,
and there was something that looked like the beginning of a smile twitching at his lips, and Sirius
wasn’t sure if he understood this Remus, but Merlin did he want to. Underneath the longing,
however, Sirius recoiled at the thought of being close to Remus again, as he knew that just as Sirius
had once known Remus like the back of his hand, Remus had known him in just the same way. He
wasn’t sure he wanted to be known like that anymore. He wasn’t as whole as he’d once been,
which was saying something, as he wasn’t sure he’d been all that whole in the first place.

Sirius realized that he’d been staring at Remus for a few moments too long again, so he tore his
gaze away, pretending to give the flat another look over.

“Thanks,” he muttered, realizing he hadn’t replied to Remus’ invitation yet. “That…would be

good.” After twelve years of Azkaban, plus another two sleeping in caves, abandoned houses, and
the hollows of tree trunks, Sirius knew that this would be heaven, really. Home.

Sirius looked back down at his now slightly cold tea and lifted it to his lips, downing the rest in a
few short gulps. When he set the mug back on the counter, he looked back up at Remus, who
wasn’t looking at him anymore, but rather staring off to the side at some indeterminable spot on
the kitchen wall.

“Could I—” Sirius started, then, finding his voice rough again, then cleared it quickly when Remus
looked back at him. “Could I take a shower?”

“Of course,” Remus said. “You know where everything is. Hasn’t changed much since you were
here last.”

“Alright,” Sirius said, feeling as though this was a lie because even if the flat hadn’t changed much,
everything else seemed to have. He hesitated for another moment, then added sheepishly: “I don’t
have anything to wear other than this.” He gestured down at himself, indicating the ragged clothes
he’d been wearing ever since Azkaban.

Remus finished his tea in a final gulp, throwing back the liquid like it was a shot of liquor, rather
than tea, before replacing the mug on the counter and pushing himself off of it so that he was
standing straight again. He paused for a moment, looking like he was steeling himself before he
spoke again.

“I still have some of your old things,” he said, not looking Sirius fully in the eye as he said it. “I’ll
dig them out for you.”

Still not looking at Sirius, Remus moved around the counter and disappeared past him into the
bedroom. Sirius stood up slowly from the stool he’d been sitting on and walked over to the
bathroom, flicking on the light and shutting the door behind him. As his gaze scanned over the
familiar tiled room, he wondered briefly about Remus’ words. If the roles had been reversed, and
Sirius had believed that Remus had gotten three (if not more) of his best friends killed, Sirius
thought he would’ve probably burned everything Remus owned on the first day…or perhaps he
wouldn’t have. He didn’t know. It was hard to figure out what the Sirius who’d never been to
Azkaban would’ve done, these days.

Sirius didn’t look at his reflection in the mirror over the sink, knowing that nothing he’d see there
would make him feel better. Instead, he turned on the shower and let the water grow warm before
discarding his clothing and stepping under the spray. It took a while for Sirius to get clean, for the
water to run clear after washing off the accumulated grime of living in a cave for several months
with only spells to wash with. His hair, luckily, wasn’t as tangled or matted as it’d been when he’d
left Azkaban, as he’d cut it short after his escape from Hogwarts. It only took a few minutes to
detangle with his fingers as he washed it.

When Sirius felt he was as clean as he’d get for the time being, he turned the water off and stepped
out of the shower bath onto the mat. He grabbed a towel and dried himself thoroughly, only then
daring to glance at his reflection in the mirror. It was strange, he thought as he stared, not to know
your own reflection.

Sirius had spent twelve whole years in a prison cell, after all, and so when he’d caught sight of
himself for the first time in the mirror, the previous year, he hadn’t even registered that it was him
staring back for a moment. It was the circles under the eyes, yes, the gaunt appearance of his
hollow cheeks, but it was also the lines that had deepened slightly around his eyes, the ones that
had appeared on his once-smooth forehead, too. Of course, Sirius had known that he’d aged, but it
was different to know it and to see it, especially when most people got used to their faces changing
over years in their mirror, versus him having to come to terms with the difference in one day.

It wasn’t that Sirius resented getting older, or the evidence of it on his face, but he was still trying
to wrap his head around the time that had passed, still trying to understand that he’d been in
Azkaban for twelve whole years. He hadn’t been conscious of the time that had passed. It’d felt
long, of course, but it’d felt more like an extended fever-induced nightmare than anything else.
When he’d been younger, Sirius had absolutely resented the idea of aging, but perhaps it would’ve
been alright if he’d done it the way he’d expected to and spent all those years in between with the
people he loved. Now, Sirius was thirty-five, but he still felt twenty-one, and he didn’t know what
to do with that.

“Sirius,” came a voice from the door, accompanied by a few gentle knocks.

Sirius started, looking away from where he’d been studying his face in the mirror, and glanced to
the doorway.

“I’m going to leave you some clothes outside the door, alright?” Remus continued, and Sirius heard
the soft sound of Remus setting down a stack of clothes on the floor.

“Thanks,” Sirius replied quietly, but Remus didn’t respond, and Sirius heard his footsteps moving
away again. Sirius wrapped the towel around his waist and walked over to the door, opening it only
enough to grab the stack of clothes that Remus had left, then shut it quickly again.

Sirius dressed slowly, remembering each piece of clothing as he did so, as if through a haze. They
belonged to another him, another life, and yet they still felt familiar. It wasn’t anything special, just
jeans and a t-shirt. They were a little loose on him, probably because his twenty-one-year-old self
had had a frame built from plenty of square meals, while his current body was used to many
periods of starvation. Still, Sirius was just glad of something to wear that wasn’t his filthy old
robes. He glanced over at them, on a pile on the floor, and contemplated setting fire to them for a
moment, but decided that he wouldn’t thank Remus for letting him stay there by starting a fire in
the flat. Instead, he simply vanished them with his new wand, then opened the door and stepped
back out into the sitting room.

Remus glanced up at Sirius from where he was now sitting on the couch, his gaze scanning quickly
over his form in the old clothes before looking away.

“I tried to find something that would be the least dated,” Remus said, a slight, joking note in his
voice, which sounded a bit forced. “Though I suppose you won’t be going anywhere, so it hardly
matters.”

“Yeah, well,” Sirius replied, shrugging. “I gather things have changed a bit in the world since I’ve
been gone. London is pretty different from what I remember. Harry also mentioned something in
one of his letters about a ‘PlayStation,’ which I didn’t even bother asking about.”

“You’ve got a lot to learn,” Remus conceded. “But luckily for you, most wizards are still as much
in the dark about Muggle culture as ever, so it won’t matter much.”

It matters to me, Sirius wanted to say, but he didn’t. Back in his Hogwarts years, Sirius had cared
deeply about Muggle Studies, wanting to know everything about the Muggle world, not just
because it was fascinating, but also because he wanted to prove that he wasn’t one of those
purebloods who saw it as beneath him. He thought he’d done a good job, too, able to blend into
Muggle London when he wanted to go to a movie or a concert.

Sirius allowed himself to remember how that had felt for a moment, to be in the midst of the music
and crowd, Marlene at his side, screaming until her voice was hoarse as they danced and danced
and lights flashed around them. When he blinked, the memory was gone as quickly as it’d
emerged, but it made him happy and sad all in one. He hadn’t thought of those moments in so long;
he’d almost forgotten that he had them at all. Another thing Azkaban had robbed him of.

Sirius’ face must’ve shown some of his emotions on it because Remus asked, his voice soft and
serious: “Are you alright?”

When Sirius turned to look at him, he saw that Remus had lowered the book he’d been reading and
was looking up at Sirius with an expression of concern on his face, softer than any look he’d given
Sirius thus far. Sirius took a deep breath, shaking himself out of his recollection, and nodded.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said.

Rather than continue to meet Remus’ worried gaze, he turned toward the bookshelves along the
walls, studying them for no other reason than that he wasn’t sure what else to do. Still, once he was
looking at them, something interesting did catch his eye, and he stepped closer.

On the wall to the left of the bookshelves, hidden from Sirius’ sight until he looked at them from
this angle, were a series of photographs. Some of them were framed, while others were simply
tacked to the wall. Sirius reached out his hand cautiously, as if something in them might leap out
and attack him, then rested his fingers on the corner of the one at the top.

This photograph held Dorcas and Marlene, looking no more than seventeen, kissing quickly before
turning to smile at the camera, the snowy grounds of Hogwarts in the background. Sirius
remembered retrieving this picture from their flat after Dorcas had died. A stab of pain went
through him at their smiles, the first image he’d seen of the two in many years. Still, it was a
comfort to see them again, as he’d been afraid that their faces might slip and distort in his
recollections.

Next, Sirius traced a picture of Lily and Mary, laughing and clinging to one another in sodden
clothes, the Great Lake in the background. Beside it was a picture of four boys, arms around one
another, just after they’d left Hogwarts. James’ glasses glinted in the sun, showing Sirius only
quick flashes of his hazel eyes as he grinned. Next to him, Sirius sat, still young and strong, smiling
wickedly, Remus on his other side, glancing affectionately over at the other boys before looking
back at the camera. Sirius’ arm was wrapped around Remus’ waist, Sirius saw, and Remus was
leaning into him. And of course, on James’ other side…Peter. He was smiling widely, too, a mix of
pride and happiness in his gaze at their accomplishment, at the lives they all anticipated ahead of
them. Something in Sirius hardened at the sight of him, and he restrained himself from ripping the
photo off the wall and tearing it to pieces.

He glanced over at Remus. “You kept the ones with Peter in them,” he said, a cold note to his
voice.

Remus looked at him steadily and nodded.

 “Why?” Sirius asked, raising a challenging eyebrow at him.

Remus seemed to think for a moment, then shrugged, returning his challenging look with interest.
“I’ve had all of those up for years,” he said, his blue gaze trained on Sirius. “I never cut you out of
any of them, did I?”

Sirius twitched involuntarily, then clenched his hands into fists. He narrowed his eyes at Remus for
a moment, then looked back at the photographs, realizing as he did so that the photo beneath the
one of the Marauders was of Remus and Sirius. He thought that they must be twenty in it, but it
was hard to tell. It was clearly a candid one of their friends had taken, as it was just of them in their
kitchen, Remus grinning to himself as he looked like he was telling some story while washing
dishes in the sink, Sirius turned to look at his back from where he was standing in front of a pot at
the stove, an affectionate grin on his face.

To the left of that photo, Sirius saw that there was one of Hope Lupin. Sirius wondered how Remus
could’ve stood to see his photo next to that of his dead mother for those twelve years that he’d
thought Sirius a traitor. He turned back to Remus.

“Why?” he asked again, and there was less challenge in his voice than confusion, pleading for an
answer he wasn’t sure he was ready for.

Remus looked at him for a long moment, then Sirius saw his eyes focus on the pictures behind
him. A series of different emotions seemed to chase one another across his face in quick succession
before Remus wiped it clean of feeling. There was a long silence, then Remus looked back at him,
and Sirius already knew from his closed-off expression that he wasn’t going to answer the question
before he even opened his mouth.

“I’m a bit tired,” Remus said. “I’ll get blankets for you, so you can sleep on the couch if that’s
alright.”

“Okay,” Sirius said, though a heavy weight of disappointment had settled into his stomach.
“Thanks.”

Chapter End Notes

Okay, so I very much lied and am a dummie because not two weeks after announcing
the total chapter count I’m changing it and adding another chapter because I already
got more long-winded than I intended. I really overestimated my ability to be concise,
because as we all know, brevity is seriously not a strong suit of mine.

I ruined my perfect 105 chapters :( I loved making the numbers for each part be in 10s
and 5s, and that each successive part was half the length of the previous one. Oh well,
I guess the last chapter is sort of an epilogue anyway. I can still make it work.
 1995: Lying Low at Lupin's
Chapter Notes

cw: brief reference to AIDS crisis

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The following fortnight felt like some of the longest days of Remus’ entire life. Sirius stayed in the
flat all hours of the day, as, of course, he had no other option, and while Remus was able to escape
at times to do errands, or to visit with Alaric and El, he couldn’t help but feel bad every time he did
so. Sirius hated being trapped, he knew, and whenever Remus returned, Sirius always seemed
relieved.

Remus wished he could share the sentiment. It wasn’t that he disliked having Sirius around, as
there were moments that he caught himself liking a little too much that Sirius was around.
Sometimes, he’d rise in the morning and see Sirius in his dog form on the couch, his ears pricking
when he spotted Remus, and a surge of warmth bloomed in him. Still, another part of Remus hated
himself for it. After all these years, Remus thought it was a bit pathetic. There was still a part of
him that distrusted the man, still a part of him that he’d trained over the course of those twelve
years that told him to blame Sirius, to resent him.

Then there was the anger that he couldn’t quell, which would rise unexpectedly sometimes when
he looked at Sirius. Usually, it was when Sirius himself looked the most haunted, when Remus
could see him lost in thought, his eyes hollow and unfocused, fingers fidgeting aimlessly. It was in
those moments that Remus thought he might hate Sirius after all, because these were the moments
when Remus was forced to remember everything that had happened, how it had, and all the years
that had put the haunted look into Sirius’ eyes, years that Remus could’ve spent with him.
Unfortunately for them both, those moments were numerous.

Remus didn’t have the respite of a job, either, since he’d just been fired from his last one a few
weeks previously, after turning up with bruises from the last full moon that apparently didn’t suit
the store’s image. When Remus made an off-hand comment one day about money being tight,
Sirius just looked at him for a moment, as if trying to predict his reaction to what he was about to
say, before pointing out that Remus could always have taken money from Sirius’ account at
Gringotts, all those years, and could still, now. It’d made Remus want to throw something at him,
but he settled for turning away and saying nothing, fists clenching and unclenching by his sides.

Luckily, they weren’t always alone. Remus brought many of the old Order members around to see
Sirius, operating under Dumbledore’s instructions to get the old crowd back together again. Those
who’d already heard the story from Dumbledore, like Elphias Doge and even Aberforth
Dumbledore, came to hear it from Sirius’ lips this time, along with some of the ones that Sirius had
already spoken to, like Sturgis and Dedalus, who dropped by to share news and information.
Moody came by one day, too, after he’d recovered sufficiently from his ordeal at the hands of
Barty Crouch Jr., to share some gruff words with Sirius and Remus. Remus, who hadn’t seen the
Auror in many years, noted with slight amusement how little he seemed to have changed.

Hestia and Emmeline visited a few times, too, once with Kingsley in tow. Remus felt a mix of pain
and gratitude to see Sirius and Kingsley reunite, to see the hesitation all over each man’s face as
they greeted one another, serious expressions dissolving quickly into smiles as they recalled their
times on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, like something was healing. It was bittersweet, too, to see
Sirius, Emmeline, and Hestia try to find their way around one another again, falling into new and
old patterns as it suited them. Remus thought the girls made it look so easy and wished it could be
that way for him.

Still, one of the most moving meetings was the Sunday that Minerva McGonagall turned up on
their doorstep unannounced, wearing Muggle clothes and looking rather sternly at Remus through
her spectacles, as though Remus should’ve expected her.

“Good—good morning, Professor,” Remus said, slipping back into his more formal address of her
in response to her expression, though he had, of course, spent a year calling her Minerva at
Hogwarts.

Her lips twitched slightly, as if she was about to smile. “Remus,” she greeted, inclining her head to
him. “I gather Mr. Black is here, yes?”

“He’s here,” Remus said, glancing behind him, wondering for a moment if it was safe to let her in.

Still, McGonagall didn’t wait for his invitation, walking past him with a purpose that made him
simply stand aside. Sighing to himself, Remus closed the door and locked it, then followed her into
the sitting room. There, he found her raising an unamused eyebrow at the shaggy black dog that
was peering up at her over the back of the couch, looking just as sheepish as Remus felt.

“What a mess you’ve made for yourself these past years, Black,” McGonagall said, addressing the
dog, whose ears drooped slightly.

Remus was torn between wanting to laugh and hide from McGonagall’s stern look, which clearly
was making Sirius feel as much like a teenager as Remus did. After a moment, Sirius transformed
back into his human form, standing to greet her.

“Hello, Professor,” he said sheepishly. “It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you, too, Sirius,” McGonagall said, her face breaking into a smile. “You can’t
imagine how happy I was to hear that we had been wrong about you.”

A hopeful expression came across Sirius’ face, and he smiled in return, a smile that looked
genuine, Remus thought, as he’d gotten good at telling the difference recently. That conversation
had gone on for hours, McGonagall insisting that Sirius not only tell his version of the story of all
that had happened before his arrest and subsequent escape, but also the story of how they’d
become Animagi, so many years before. Remus had been able to add some to that conversation,
too, and though there were moments when McGonagall looked like she was trying to resist the
urge to give them detention, at other times, she looked prouder than Remus had ever seen her.

“You boys really were some of the most brilliant students I ever taught,” she said when they were
finished, giving them an amused smile. “I will admit that I never suspected any of this when you
were in school, and I was under the comfortable impression back then that I knew everything you
Marauders did, even when you thought you had kept it from me.”

Sirius smiled, his eyes darting to meet Remus’ gaze, and Remus felt a thrill of joy rush through him
at the brief, shared glance, with Sirius’ grey eyes lit up with pleasure at the praise. The moment
was short, but it felt long to Remus, enough for him to feel the warmth spreading through his limbs
at the look, the feeling of belonging he always used to get when Sirius looked at him. When Sirius
turned back to McGonagall, however, Remus felt the bubble pop and the cold creep back in.
Don’t, he warned himself. Don’t do this again. But Remus wasn’t sure he could help it, and it
wasn’t as if he’d ever stopped, really.

When McGonagall departed that day, she left a cold silence in her wake, as Remus suddenly
couldn’t bear to look at Sirius anymore. After an hour of trying to ignore the restless, trapped
feeling in his chest, he pulled on his boots and told Sirius that he was going out.

“Where?” Sirius asked, looking up at him from the book he’d been reading on the couch.

Remus gave a noncommittal shrug. “Alaric’s,” he invented, saying the first place that came to
mind. The truth was that he really just needed to get away, and it didn’t really matter where.

Sirius seemed to deflate but nodded. “Okay,” he said, turning back to the book, though his gaze
was now fixed, eyes not flitting across the page, and Remus was certain that he wasn’t really
reading it anymore. His face was pulled into a frown, and Remus could see his glare.

He didn’t comment on the expression, just left. Remus could guess what Sirius thought, after that
first night when Remus had told him that Alaric had stayed at the flat for a while, but he hadn’t
bothered to contradict him or tell him about El. When Remus was feeling particularly angry, he
even liked the idea that Sirius thought that he’d been easily replaced after everything.

Remus did actually go to Alaric and El’s flat, as he couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. He didn’t
much like the idea of going for a walk, only to be pushed and prodded by tourists, so he apparated
to the alley next to their building. When he reached the front door, he pressed the buzzer and
waited for a few long moments before the intercom crackled into life.

“Who’s this?” came a slightly annoyed, staticky voice from the speaker. Remus recognized Alaric.

“Hey, Alaric,” he said, his voice coming out rather hoarse. He cleared his throat quickly. “It’s just
me.”

There was a slight pause, then he heard Alaric mutter, probably to El: “S’Lupin.”

The static of the intercom fell silent, and then there was the sound of the door unlocking as Remus
was buzzed into the building. Remus pushed the door open and headed for the stairs, mounting to
the second floor and knocking on the first door on the left. It was quickly pulled open to reveal a
disheveled-looking Alaric, his hair standing up in some places. Remus wondered whether he’d
been napping, or if Remus had interrupted something.

“Sorry,” he said. “Should’ve called first.”

Alaric just shrugged, stepping aside to let Remus in. “Was meaning to get up anyway. Whatever’s
got your knickers in a twist now should give me somethin’ to do.”

Remus’ gaze flitted quickly over the usual mess of things in their tiny flat, then onto El, who was
looking bleary-eyed as they made tea in the kitchen.

“‘Lo, Remus,” they greeted, giving him a short wave.

“Hey El,” Remus said, sending them a smile. He was relieved, at least, to see that he’d likely not
interrupted the two in anything other than a nap.

“So, what’s it this time, eh?” Alaric demanded, limping over to the couch and slouching down on
it, lifting his eyebrows in slight amusement at Remus. “That posh boyfriend of yours again?”
Remus felt for a moment like he had back when he’d been nineteen, after Alaric had first found out
about him and Sirius. The words were so familiar, ever-accompanied by the wry note in them, yet
now, Remus was standing in the flat that Alaric shared with El, not in the house on Coleridge
Road, and Sirius wasn’t Remus’ boyfriend at all.

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore,” Remus retorted, shooting Alaric a glare.

El looked over to give Remus a commiserating look at Alaric’s antics while Alaric just grinned
cheekily from the couch. Reluctantly, Remus walked over to take a seat on the other side of it,
sighing. Alaric had, of course, gotten the truth out of Remus at their very first meeting after Remus
had returned from Hogwarts the previous year. Remus had wondered only briefly whether it was
wise to tell him all that had happened, but that worry was eclipsed by the urgent need to talk about
it with someone. Over the course of the past two weeks, too, Remus had needed to come over to
talk about Sirius often enough.

“I just needed to get away from him for a bit,” Remus explained, sighing deeply.

“He do anything in particular this time?” Alaric asked, again with that cheeky note in his voice.

Remus would’ve rolled his eyes, but he hardly had the energy. “Just being around him is
exhausting sometimes,” he replied.

El snorted from the kitchen, casting a wry glance at Alaric over their shoulder. “I know that
feeling,” they said.

Alaric flicked them the bird, and El laughed, turning back to the kettle on the stove.

“Exhausting is having to hear about it every other day,” Alaric jibed Remus, giving him a shove on
the shoulder. “You hate ‘im, you love ‘im, you hate that you love ‘im. Jus’ bloody do somethin’
about it already, Lupin.”

“Shuddup,” Remus groaned, pushing his fingers into his closed eyelids until stars popped before
them. “Tosser,” he mumbled as an afterthought.

Alaric chuckled. “Look, I’m not saying you don’ deserve to be angry, alright?” he said. “I’d sock
‘im for you if you wanted me to. But jus’ punch ‘im or fuck ‘im, either way, get it over with
already, ya know?”

“Al, don’ be a wanker,” El remonstrated him from the kitchen, walking over to hand Remus a mug
of tea and sit down on the lumpy armchair across from him.

Alaric’s eyebrows furrowed at El. “Where’s mine?” he griped, glancing from Remus’ mug to the
one that El was now wrapping their long fingers around.

El raised their eyebrows at Alaric wryly. “In the kitchen,” they said.

Alaric rolled his eyes and hoisted himself up to retrieve his mug from the kitchen counter,
muttering under his breath as he did so. El gave Remus a sympathetic smile.

“Don’ mind Al,” El said apologetically. “S’far as I’m concerned, you can stay here as long as you
need to get away from ‘im. Some wounds take a while to heal.”

“You’re too soft on ‘im,” Alaric grumbled, rolling his eyes as he flopped back down on the couch,
tea sloshing slightly in his cup.
 ....

In the end, Remus stayed at Alaric and El’s flat for a few hours before working up the nerve to go
back to face Sirius, at which point Alaric insisted on accompanying Remus. He looked almost
eager, grinning wickedly as Remus laced up his boots and gave him a glare, and Remus knew that
Alaric was surely desperate to poke and prod Sirius just as much as he was already doing to Remus,
as the other man even consented to apparate there, which he usually hated doing. El only rolled
their eyes and turned back to grading homework for the Muggle primary school they taught at
these days.

When Remus unlocked the flat and stepped through the door, looking around for Sirius and feeling
rather nervous, Alaric limping behind him, he found the other man in the place where he’d left
him, still on the couch, reading his book. He sat up when Remus entered the room, and when his
eyes found Alaric behind him, his brow furrowed.

Remus cleared his throat awkwardly and gestured to Alaric, who’d limped to his side and was now
staring at Sirius with casual interest written all over his face. “Sirius, this is Alaric,” he said.
“Alaric, Sirius.”

Sirius’ expression seemed to harden for a moment, then he nodded and stood, walking around the
couch to approach Alaric. He stuck out his hand, the gesture a remnant of his pureblood
upbringing, and a slight smile came onto Alaric’s face as he stared at it for a moment, then reached
his own hand out to shake it.

“Nice to put a name to the face, after all these years,” Sirius said politely, though the look in his
eyes as he sent a quick glance to Remus was that of annoyance.

Remus felt a spark of frustration rise in him, too, at the look, and quickly wiped his face blank,
lifting his eyebrows slightly at Sirius in response.

Alaric was still looking at Sirius in amusement. “Good to meet you, too,” he replied after a
moment.

Sirius looked back to meet his brown eyes, and Remus was positive he saw a flicker of uncertainty
in Sirius’ grey gaze as he took in Alaric’s slight smile, as if he was a bit intimidated. Alaric’s smile
widened, and Remus thought Sirius looked like he was trying to control himself from asking what
his problem was before Alaric spoke again.

“Thought you’d be taller,” he said.

Remus didn’t even bother to cover a snort as Sirius’ expression flashed shock for a moment, then
hardened into annoyance.

“You’re one to talk,” he retorted, and it was true that Alaric and Sirius were of similar builds,
almost exactly the same height.

Alaric continued to smile at him, then glanced over at Remus, raising his eyebrows in amusement.
Remus was trying not to grin, his hand covering his mouth as he observed the exchange. After a
moment of amused eye contact, Alaric turned back to Sirius.

“Alright, pretty boy,” he said, and Remus saw Sirius’ jaw clench even tighter if that were possible.
“Jus’ came ‘cause I was curious about the infamous Sirius Black. But I’ll get outta your hair.”

Remus stifled another snort at his words, and Alaric turned to give him another entertained look as
he headed toward the door. Just as he was about to leave, however, Alaric turned back to give
Sirius a look up and down, his gaze harder this time.

“Jus’ one thing,” he said, his voice suddenly lower and more serious. “If you fuck ‘im over again,
you’ll have me to answer to, clear?”

Sirius narrowed his eyes for a moment, then nodded. “Fine,” he said.

Alaric gave him a slight smile in return. “Good,” he said. “Try not to get arrested again, then,
wontcha?” He gave a mocking salute, then pulled the door open and strode out, slamming it
unnecessarily behind him. After a moment of silence, Remus heard the telltale crack that meant
that Alaric had disapparated back to his flat.

Remus wanted badly to laugh, not only at Alaric’s theatrics but Sirius’ reaction to them. Still,
glancing at the look on Sirius’ face, he held himself back, striding over to lock the door. He
allowed himself another brief smile when his face was turned away from Sirius’, but when he
turned back, Sirius was still looking at him with annoyance.

“What?” Remus asked, raising his eyebrows.

“I think I should be asking that,” Sirius replied. “What the fuck was that?”

“Alaric wanted to meet you,” Remus said, shrugging.

Sirius snorted, shaking his head and walking over toward the sitting room, clearly just wanting an
outlet for his nervous energy. Remus followed his movements with his eyes, feeling almost
entertained. He’d watched Sirius be quiet and timid for the past weeks, and it felt like almost a
relief to see a temper tantrum, to reassure himself that Sirius hadn’t been replaced by a much more
muted copy. There was satisfaction, too, in being the one to blame for it.

“He was just as much of a wanker as I always expected him to be from your stories, I suppose,”
Sirius said after a moment, as he stopped next to the window, looking out.

Remus snorted. “As if you weren’t being a right wanker back,” he said.

Sirius turned to him, his brows furrowed. “Well, I didn’t expect him to come waltzing in here, did
I?” he demanded angrily. “I didn’t even know you’d told him about what happened. Seems like the
kind of thing I should’ve known, actually.”

Remus rolled his eyes, frustration starting to bubble up in him in response. “Well, I don’t have to
tell you everything, do I?” he retorted. “You have to accept there’s a whole lot of my life that you
don’t know about. You’ve been missing for a while, haven’t you?”

Sirius stared at Remus for a moment, looking taken aback before something like relief flooded his
features, and he let out a long sigh.

“Finally,” Sirius said, though there was still the blaze of anger in his grey eyes. “Can we finally
talk about it now?”

Remus narrowed his eyes at him, trying to decide whether he wanted to have this fight or not.
Anger was thrumming in his veins already, sure, but was now really the moment? Most of Remus
just wanted to shut himself in his bedroom for the night and block his thoughts out. Still, it seemed
like he wouldn’t be getting off so easy this time.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, looking away from Sirius’ insistent grey gaze
for a moment, just for a respite.
Sirius snorted. “I don’t know where you pulled that mild-mannered professor shtick from last
year,” he said. “But I know you’re still angry at me for everything that happened, no matter what
you said in the Shrieking Shack.”

“Oh, you know, do you?” Remus demanded, his tone mocking, anger flaring even more within
him. He shook his head, snorting out a derisive laugh. “You know?”

“Yeah, I do,” Sirius retorted, frowning at Remus. “I know it’s been years, but I still know you,
Remus. I don’t mind that you’re angry. I know I deserve it. I just need you to get angry at me,
alright, so we can have it out.”

“And has it ever occurred to you what I need?” Remus retorted, his voice rising slightly, though he
tried valiantly to keep it low. “Has it ever occurred to you that I hate that you need me to be angry
at you?”

He wanted to say more, wanted to scream at Sirius, but instead, he clamped his mouth tightly shut
and turned away, trying to breathe deeply, to drive away the rising fury within him.

Sirius paused for a moment, then started again, clearly trying for a different tack. “Moony, I know I
fucked up all those years ago. I know I broke us, all of us. I got Lily and James killed, and I
deserve—”

“STOP!” Remus roared, rounding on Sirius again, unable to contain himself any longer. He
registered the shocked expression on Sirius’ face but couldn’t bring himself to care. “Just stop with
your self-pitying bullshit for a minute, alright? Stop saying you know. You don’t know. I’m pissed
at you, and you don’t even fucking know why!”

Sirius’ brows furrowed, part confusion and part offense. “I’m pretty sure I do know,” he tried to
start again. “And I—”

“Stop it, fucking Christ,” Remus swore, talking over Sirius, hands lifted into the air to silence him,
which curled into fists when Sirius obligingly fell silent. “Stop putting fucking words in my mouth.
I’m sure you’ve done it enough in all the time we’ve been apart, because that was always what you
did, Sirius! You think of how people respond so you can have them damn you in your head before
they even get the chance to do it to your fucking face!”

Sirius’ mouth hung slightly open, staring at Remus in shock, and Remus took advantage of his
silence.

“You think I’m mad at you for thinking that I was the spy, or for not contacting me in the year that
you’ve been out, and sure, I’m mad at you for those things. But I’ve had a year to think about this,
Sirius, and I’ve decided that what I’m most fucking mad at you for is sitting in fucking prison for
twelve years to punish yourself instead of finding me and sorting it the fuck out!”

Remus shouted the last words, and Sirius really did look dumbstruck now. It was almost satisfying,
almost a relief, to know that Remus had been right and that Sirius really hadn’t understood his
anger as he’d claimed to. Remus breathed hard as if he’d just been running and enjoyed the look on
Sirius’ face for a moment longer.

Sirius made a couple of incoherent sounds, then started to speak. “Remus, I—”

But Remus wasn’t done yet; he wasn’t ready for Sirius to say his piece. He’d been waiting for this.

“You could’ve left at any time, Sirius!” he shouted again, shaking his head in anger and disgust.
“You got out because you’re an Animagus, and so you could’ve left at any time! You chose to
stay.”

Sirius’ expression filled with anger of his own again, and Remus felt a thrill rush through his veins
at the sight. This was it, what he’d been waiting for for fourteen whole years, not just since he’d
learned the story of Sirius’ escape from Azkaban, but since that first night in 1981 when he’d seen
distrust flare in Sirius’ eyes. Perhaps this was what Remus should’ve done that night, too, if he
hadn’t been so scared of that look. He was tired of the silence. He wanted to fight.

“I was in Azkaban prison,” Sirius ground out, his grey eyes turning to steel with anger. “And
you’re saying that I wanted to be there? Are you fucking kidding me, Moony?!”

“I don’t know, Padfoot, maybe it was safer than coming back and really dealing with your
problems again,” Remus retorted angrily, not really caring that his words were out of line. “You
were always good at feeling sorry for yourself. Self-loathing more comfortable than having to think
about the people you left behind, maybe?”

“I thought about you every fucking day!” Sirius shouted, his eyes blazing. “Every fucking day,
Remus! I saw James and Lily dead every fucking day! I heard Wormtail taunt me, I saw Marlene
and Dorcas’ disgust at what I’d done, I saw you disappointed in me…I thought about it every
minute, and you think that was easy? You think I was taking the easy way out, that I was letting
myself get tortured like that, huh?”

“You didn’t see me, Sirius!” Remus shouted back. “You didn’t see them, either! You saw yourself
because you’re the one that hates you!”

“Fuck you, Remus,” Sirius snarled back, his face turning into the mask that Remus remembered it
being in the newspapers. Feral. Mad.

Remus didn’t look away. He’d seen this Sirius before, before everything that had happened, and
he’d never turned away from it then. Perhaps Sirius wanted Remus to be afraid of him, but he
wasn’t.

“No, fuck you, Sirius,” Remus retorted. “Fuck you for imagining me all those years instead of
coming back and facing me yourself. Fuck you for letting me drive myself crazy out here for the
sake of driving yourself crazy in there, instead of coming back to fix it. Fuck you.”

Sirius looked livid, and when he strode toward Remus, Remus was almost certain that he’d hit him,
but he didn’t. Instead, Sirius placed a firm hand on the back of Remus’ neck and pulled him down
to his level, pressing a fierce kiss to his mouth. Remus stiffened for a moment, but anger and
adrenaline were still coursing through his veins and God did this feel like the right outlet. So
instead of pushing him away, Remus’ hands shot out to pull Sirius closer, one hand on his bicep,
one digging into his waist. The kiss was bruising: all teeth and tongue and lips moving harshly
against one another. And yet it was thrilling too, after so much time spent hating and loving and
longing for Sirius all at once.

Remus pushed all of his anger into the kiss, his pain about all the men he’d kissed between this and
his last embrace with Sirius, all the men who’d shown him glimpses of dark hair or grey eyes or
wicked smiles. He pushed the anger of all those times his stomach had sunk when he’d realized
that he’d been searching for something he hated himself for wanting, and all the times someone
had left him because they’d realized that his heart wasn’t whole enough to give them what they
wanted it to, and perhaps never would be again.

Remus’ right hand moved up from Sirius’ arm to fist in his hair, which was shorter than it’d been
the last time he’d had cause to touch it but was still long enough for him to grab onto. I hope he
keeps growing it out, Remus thought hazily as he pulled the soft strands, making Sirius gasp a little
into his mouth. He didn’t examine the thought, didn’t examine the assumption that they’d keep
doing this in the future, because the thought of stopping was something he couldn’t even
contemplate. Instead, he used his grip on Sirius’ hair to pull his head back slightly so that he could
press a kiss to his jawline, then more down his neck.

Sirius let out a groan as Remus sucked a bruise onto his skin there, then pulled Remus back up to
his lips, kissing fiercely. Remus relented, allowing his hand on Sirius’ waist to grab onto his hip,
fingers digging in, before it trailed up below his shirt, caressing the soft skin of Sirius’ stomach. He
looped it around to Sirius’ back, feeling the familiar texture of ridged scars that would never fade.
Sirius let out a low, growling sound in his throat as Remus trailed his hand upwards, and Remus
knew that anger was still there, thrumming in both of them, setting them on fire.

After a moment, however, Sirius pulled back suddenly, wrenching out of Remus’ grasp and
staggering as he stepped a few feet away, staring at him. His eyes were wide, shocked, as if he
wasn’t sure what he’d just done. Remus stared back, still breathing hard, realization crashing over
him, too. Fourteen years, a small voice in his head repeated. Fourteen years.

Right then, Remus wasn’t sure if it was wise, wasn’t sure if the best thing to do was to walk away,
but he realized he wanted nothing more than to touch Sirius again, and never stop touching him.
He remembered Alaric’s words from earlier: Jus’ punch ‘im or fuck ‘im, either way, get it over
with already… Remus knew he was only capable of one of those things. So maybe he was mad at
Sirius, maybe he was furious with him, in fact, over the fourteen years they’d spent apart, because
Sirius had chosen them, and Remus hadn’t, but that couldn’t be solved by fighting. What was the
point in being furious about their time apart when he was now the one pulling away?

“Sirius, I—” Remus began, his hand going to his mussed hair for a moment as he looked at the
other man, who was staring back at him still. “I just—”

“I’m sorry,” Sirius interrupted, his voice low, making Remus cut off and stare at him. “I’m sorry.
That’s all I wanted to say. That’s all I should’ve said instead of picking a fight. I’m sorry for
picking a fight, too, instead of listening to you, or just admitting that I was jealous of Alaric…I’m
just sorry.”

Remus stared at him for a moment, then shook his head bitterly. “For the record, you have nothing
to be jealous of Alaric over. He was just taking the piss because your reaction showed him he
could,” he said. Then, he paused and added, voice lower: “And I don’t know if I want your
apology, Sirius.”

Sirius swallowed, and Remus’ eyes flicked to his throat to watch his Adam’s apple bob as he did
so.

“Okay,” Sirius replied after a moment. “What do you want, then?”

Remus stared at him for a moment, unable to say the thing that he knew was the truth: You.

But perhaps Sirius understood anyway, because he moved forward to approach Remus again,
slower this time, and leaned up to him to press a much gentler kiss to his lips than the last. Remus
let his eyelids flutter closed again, his body releasing all the tension in traitorous relief, but then
Sirius was pulling away once more. Remus blinked his eyes open, indignant at the lack of contact
again. Sirius met his gaze openly, pausing for a moment as he pulled the hem of his shirt up and
over his head, discarding it on the floor next to them.

Remus swallowed, his gaze going to Sirius’ bare skin, then flitting back to his face. He was thinner
than the last time Remus had seen him like this, ribs still showing from the prolonged starvation of
Azkaban and from being on the run. Still, he was Sirius, and his body was like a map to Remus, a
map that he’d known so well back when they’d been together, all those years ago. Remus
remembered the first time he’d seen Sirius like this, in their third year at Hogwarts, his skin laid
bare before him—a confession.

That had been the first time Remus remembered really registering how he looked at Sirius, the first
time he’d had something to push firmly down on. He’d been ashamed of it then. Now, the shame
was for a different reason, but all Remus wanted to do at that moment was remember how it’d felt
between them.

Remus pulled his own shirt off, watching as Sirius’ gaze trailed over his bare skin, too, like a
caress. There were many new scars for Sirius to learn, a map of experiences on his body for Sirius
to find anew. After a moment where they examined each other in silence, Sirius stepped forward,
his fingers stretching out cautiously toward Remus. When they made contact with the scar on his
lower abdomen, a deep slash that had puckered the skin there three years before, Remus breathed
in sharply.

He resisted the urge to let his eyelids flutter shut at the contact, and looked down at Sirius’ chest.
Remus raised his own hand, tracing his fingers along the inky lines of Sirius’ tattoo on his sternum,
which were less defined than they’d been when he’d gotten it almost sixteen years before, but still
solid and dark. Sirius breathed in, too, and his grey eyes found Remus’ blue ones, their gazes
locking in a moment of silent intensity.

Remus breathed out slowly and slid his hand up from Sirius’ tattoo to cup Sirius’ jaw, tilting his
face upwards. Sirius jerked slightly under his touch, as if he was fighting the urge to flinch away,
an urge that must’ve resolidified in the fourteen years since Remus had last held him like this.
Then, Sirius went completely still, his eyelids fluttering shut as he let out a long exhale and leaned
into the contact, his hand moving from where he’d been tracing the scar on Remus’ stomach to his
waist, and resting gently there. For a moment, Remus saw a younger version of Sirius in his
features, one which looked far less haunted, as if he’d never gone to Azkaban, as if they’d spent all
those years in between doing this. He was as beautiful as he’d ever been, Remus thought.

This time, Remus leaned down and captured Sirius’ lips with his own more gently, the anger
having burned through to be replaced with the tenderness underneath it. Sirius leaned up to Remus
as they kissed, his hand on Remus’ waist snaking around Remus’ back and pulling him closer, but
softly this time. He moaned quietly into the kiss, his lips parting against Remus’, and Remus felt as
though a slow ember had been lit inside him, burning for more. His hand fell from Sirius’ jaw to
grip the side of his hip and he pulled Sirius still closer, kissing him deeply as he did so.

When kissing was no longer enough, they stumbled back into the bedroom, shedding more of their
clothes as Sirius fell back onto the familiar bed for the first time in fourteen years. Remus crawled
over him, pressing kisses up from his chest to his neck and to his lips again as Sirius ran his fingers
through Remus’ curls, tugging him closer. For a moment, it felt as though they were teenagers
again, as if nothing had changed between them since they’d done this for the first time. But when
Remus pulled back to look down at Sirius, his eyes blazing with blue fire, they both registered the
years that had passed. At that moment, however, Remus couldn’t bring himself to resent them.

Soon, Sirius was flipping them over, kissing down Remus’ jawline to his neck and biting down,
Remus’ hands going to his hips and tugging them flush as he groaned, arching up. Sirius didn’t
allow him to hold him there for long, however, as he moved lower, his lips pressing kisses to
Remus’ collarbone, then his chest, fingers trailing lower still. His touch felt like fire where it
landed, but it seemed to soothe Remus as much as it burned him, both soft and demanding all at
once.

After a moment, Remus realized that Sirius was whispering something, so soft that he could barely
make it out—and perhaps he hadn’t been meant to hear it at all—as he kissed his way down
Remus’ chest to his abdomen.

“I love you, I love you,” Sirius repeated, over and over again, his words barely a breath against
Remus’ skin as he kissed every scar.

Remus couldn’t help it: he felt tears begin to well up in his eyes, and his hands went again to
Sirius’ hair, tracing gently through it this time.

When Sirius looked up at him, Remus’ eyes were wet, and Sirius merely stared at him for a
moment, grey eyes locked with blue ones, pupils blown impossibly wide, a look that said what
words couldn’t yet. Then Sirius resumed kissing Remus’ abdomen, and Remus arched up to Sirius’
lips, to his touch, because he loved him, too, and he needed him. He needed Sirius there, he needed
him close, and he needed him to never stop touching him again. It felt like being taken apart and
put back together again, perhaps still imperfectly, but more wholly than Remus had felt in years.

Later that night, Remus and Sirius dressed and ventured back out to the sitting room, Remus
pouring them both a glass of wine as they faced the windows and looked out at London before
them. Sitting on the floor and leaning against Remus’ legs as he sat on the couch, Sirius was
looking through Remus’ record collection, which Remus had kept despite the fact that he also had
a CD player now. Sirius commented on some of the bands he’d never heard of, making witty
remarks about their names and covers and making Remus smile. Eventually, however, from the
back of the stack, he pulled out a familiar record, a grin spreading across his face.

“News of the World,” he said, smiling up at Remus. “I remember when I got this one.”

The look he gave Remus was a mix of suggestive and affectionate. With it, Remus, too, was
transported back to the Christmas holidays in 1977, when he and Sirius had been new, and this
album had been the near-constant soundtrack of the stolen moments they’d had together, as Sirius
had insisted on playing it on repeat during those first few weeks after he’d gotten it. That had been
when they’d still been keeping their relationship a secret from James and the rest. It’d been sort of
exciting, as well as scary, though Remus mostly just remembered feeling overwhelmingly happy
during those early days. For once, the memory wasn’t jagged and didn’t cut him as he recalled it.

Remus smiled back at him. “So do I,” he said.

Sirius beamed and hurried to place the record on the turntable of Remus’ stereo, placing the needle
carefully on his song of choice. When it began to rotate, Remus heard the first notes of “We Are
The Champions” begin, and Sirius closed his eyes, his smile softening as he sang quietly along
with the lyrics.

“I’ve paid my dues, time after time,” he sang, a peaceful expression coming over his face. “I’ve
done my sentence, but committed no crime…And bad mistakes, I’ve made a few. I’ve had my share
of sand kicked in my face, but I’ve come through!”

Another memory came back to Remus, then, a vision of a younger Sirius, standing on top of a table
in this very flat, drunk off firewhiskey and high off the exhilaration of being on their own for the
first time in their lives, of being adults. He’d sung along with this song to their friends, laughing.

“And we mean to go on and on and on and on!” they’d chorused back to him, holding up their
drinks to him as if in a toast, voices all coalescing into something that was slightly off-tune in a
 way that none of them cared about. “We are the champions, my friends. And we’ll keep on fighting
till the end. We are the champions, we are the champions! No time for losers, ‘cause we are the
champions of the world!”

Sirius opened his eyes and looked over at Remus, the gentle smile still playing across his lips, the
voices of their dead friends echoing in Remus’ head as he did so.

“I suppose a lot’s happened in the world of music since I’ve been gone,” he said. “But Queen will
never really die, will they?”

Remus felt a wrench in his gut as he thought of Freddie Mercury, and of all the things that had
happened in the world during the past fourteen years that Sirius didn’t know about. Remus had
hated to go through it without Sirius, and yet he also hated the thought of telling Sirius about all
the new ways the world had found to make them ashamed of who they were in those years when
Sirius had been in prison. He hated the idea of sharing the news of another death, too, even if it
was someone Sirius had never known, because he’d idolized Freddie Mercury all those years
before when they’d been teenagers. So instead, he put it off. He gave Sirius a smile and shook his
head.

“They’ll never die,” he said. “Not really.”

Just like us, Remus thought. Just like the rest of our friends. Never really gone. Not ever.

He remembered Sirius’ question to him the first day that he’d come here, when he’d found the
photographs of all of their friends on the wall. The cold why? when he’d seen that Peter was still
included in them. The more desperate, confused, why? when Remus had pointed out that he’d
never cut Sirius out of them, either. Remus hadn’t been able to bring himself to answer that day,
not been able to bring himself to say that he’d wanted to remember how they’d all used to be before
things had fallen apart. How they’d been a family, then. How, after years of hating himself
completely for how he felt, Remus had acknowledged that perhaps he couldn’t turn off the part of
him that loved Sirius, so he’d instead allowed himself to love the boy Sirius had once been, telling
himself that it was different than the man he’d become. Now, Remus supposed, he’d have to
relearn how to love all of Sirius without hating himself for it.

Sirius smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He walked over and sat down on the floor
again, cross-legged, looking up at Remus.

“Hey, Remus?” Sirius asked, his expression slightly nervous.

“Mm-hm?” Remus murmured, reaching over to push a lock of Sirius’ hair back behind his ear,
fingers lingering on his jaw as he did so.

Sirius smiled slightly, then reached up to remove Remus’ hand and twine their fingers together. “I
—I had an idea,” he started tentatively. “About how I can help the Order.”

As he began to explain, Remus’ brow furrowed, frowning down at Sirius as the words flowed out
of him. Suddenly, he felt the familiar dread of many years before, the strange feeling that
something was closing in on him.

Chapter End Notes

I generally loved writing this chapter because of the interactions between McGonagall
and Sirius, the Alaric and Sirius dynamic (which I just giggled my way through
writing), and having Sirius and Remus finally hash it out. Obviously, fighting isn’t
necessary for a relationship and maybe not even the healthiest thing (depending), but I
do think it’s a way that Remus and Sirius learned to communicate when they were kids
so in this moment it’s kind of the only way they could get through to each other, with
so much built up between them.

Also, it’s crazy to me how well the lyrics of “We Are the Champions” fit Sirius.
 1995: Amends

Hestia wasn’t quite sure what she was doing there. She didn’t make a conscious decision to go
there, after all, she’d spent eight whole years of her relationship with Kingsley actively avoiding
the place, making it a point never to visit him in the Auror office. Still, there she was, on a Monday
in mid-July, walking in through the doors with a coffee in her hand and a feeling that she was doing
something terribly, terribly wrong in her heart. She could’ve chosen differently, it was true,
could’ve resisted the urge to meddle where she didn’t belong. But there she was.

“Hestia?” Hestia froze at the sound of a voice calling her name, and turned her head slowly, only to
sigh in relief at the sight of a head of bubblegum pink hair.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Tonks greeted, giving Hestia a grin as she leaned over her desk from the
far corner of the room, examining Hestia intently.

Hestia smiled back, and, when the receptionist at the front desk gave her a quick nod, stepped
around it to walk over to where Tonks sat.

“Hey, Tonks,” Hestia greeted when she reached the Auror’s cubicle, giving a quick glance around
at the walls and spotting a picture of his family, along with a poster of the Holyhead Harpies.

“Hey there,” Tonks said, smiling jovially and gesturing for Hestia to sit down. “Are you here for
Kingsley? I think he’s supposed to be back soon from the mission he’s on.” Tonks glanced up at
the clock and shrugged. “Though I couldn’t say when I heard that.”

Hestia smiled at the wizard’s familiar haphazard air. “Thanks, but no,” she replied, feeling a rush
of nervousness go through her. “I came to see you, actually.”

“Me?” Tonks asked, sitting up straighter in his chair and running a hand through his spiky hair.
“Alright, shoot. What do you need?”

“It’s about that thing—” Hestia glanced around the room to make sure that no one was listening
before she continued, lowering her voice. “—that Emmeline, Kingsley, and I have been telling you
about.”

Tonks’ brows furrowed, and she narrowed her eyes at Hestia, leaning back in her chair slightly, her
posture returning to its earlier slouched state in her frustration. “Hestia, don’t play games with me
right now,” he said. “I’ve got work to do.”

“I swear to you that I’m not playing games,” Hestia said, leaning forward earnestly. “I know all the
things we’ve told you seem a bit insane, and you don’t like that we can’t tell you everything, but
please, Tonks, just listen to me now.”

Tonks leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest and regarding Hestia coolly with those
unreadable brown eyes, which, despite the color, still reminded Hestia irresistibly of Sirius’.

“Alright, what?” Tonks asked after a moment.

Hestia glanced around again. “Did you tell your mum about what we told you?” she asked, her
voice still low.

Tonks snorted and shot her a glare. “My mum’s been through enough,” she said, shaking her head
in disgust. “Reporters hounded her after what happened with Sirius when I was a kid, and again
after he escaped. She doesn’t need to hear someone else spouting rubbish about him, even if it’s
rubbish she might like to believe this time. Leave her out of this.”

“I—I can’t,” Hestia said, feeling a surge of guilt wash through her again at the words. Still, there
had been no other way that she knew of to contact Andromeda Tonks, as it seemed the family had
ways of protecting against unwanted visitors and owls, no doubt due to the reporters that Tonks had
mentioned. “Things have…changed.”

“Changed how?” Tonks asked, his tone bored, though Hestia could feel from the slight jostle of the
table that his knee was jiggling nervously.

Hestia glanced around again, then looked back at Tonks, deciding to throw caution to the wind.
“He—he wants to see her.” Liar, a voice inside Hestia’s mind said, but she pushed it away.

Every muscle in Tonks’ body seemed to taughten as she fell completely still, her leg stopping its
jiggling as she stared at Hestia across the table. There was a long moment where both were
completely silent, then Tonks spoke, his voice very low.

“You can’t be serious.”

Along with the anger that Hestia had expected, she was surprised to hear a note of something like
anxiety there, along with Tonks’ disbelief. There was a look in her eye, too, that Hestia dared to
think might be hope.

“I know that this is a lot to ask,” Hestia continued, her voice barely a whisper. “But I need you to
trust me. Please.”

Hestia looked desperately into Tonks’ brown eyes and hoped against hope that she wasn’t acting
incredibly recklessly right then. Tonks shifted his eyes away from hers after a second, eyes
scanning instead across the walls of his cubicle, though Hestia doubted he was really seeing them.

Hestia waited with bated breath. She’d known that this was an immense risk to take, known that
neither Kingsley nor Emmeline would approve of her plan if she told it to them, but she had to do
this. Perhaps no one had asked her to, perhaps it was a lie that Sirius had asked to see his cousin,
but Hestia felt that it was still the right thing to do. Sirius needed family, and if Hestia could do
nothing else to assuage her terrible guilt, she’d try to give that to him.

Tonks didn’t look back at Hestia for a long moment, but when her eyes drifted toward her once
again, fixing on a spot just left of Hestia’s head and opening her mouth to speak, she was
interrupted by another voice calling Hestia’s name.

“Hestia? Hestia Jones?” Hestia started, looking around in a panic that was the same that had filled
her when Tonks had first called out her name. This time, it was the person she’d feared seeing that
was greeting her.

The older woman had stopped a few yards away, turning from the conversation she’d been having
with another Auror to look over at Hestia and Tonks. Her dark brown eyes were wide with
recognition and surprise, so familiar, though they were surrounded by lines, now, acquired in the
fourteen years since Hestia had last seen her. She couldn’t help but think of her daughter’s eyes, at
that moment, and how this was how they might’ve looked years down the line if they hadn’t
closed for the last time when she’d been just twenty-one. An image bloomed over Hestia’s vision
for a second, of Sirius leaning forward and closing Dorcas’ eyes with his fingertips, and a wave of
nausea rolled over her.
“Mrs. Meadowes,” Hestia greeted, her throat suddenly dry as she tried to push away the nausea.

Tonks stood as the older woman turned and approached them, Hestia hurrying to follow suit.

“Auror Meadowes,” Tonks greeted Diana as she stopped in front of them, his tone deferential.

Diana spared Tonks only a glance, however, before looking back to Hestia. “It’s been so many
years,” she said, her eyes flicking across Hestia’s face.

Hestia’s heart pounded in her chest, and she nodded in response, not sure what to say. After a
moment, however, Diana Meadowes’ face broke into a smile, and she reached forward to pull
Hestia into a hug. Hestia felt frozen for a moment, then wrapped her arms around the older woman
briefly before Diana allowed her to pull back.

“How have you been, Hestia?” Diana asked, the soft smile still playing across her face.

“I’ve been well,” she replied, plastering a lackluster smile onto her lips. “And you?”

“As well as can be expected, of late,” Diana replied, her smile falling slightly to be replaced with a
look of frustration, causing a jolt to go through Hestia’s stomach, as it reminded her so much of
Dorcas. “After all these years, Thomas and I finally were starting to feel some closure, and then, of
course, that monster escaped.”

Hestia’s heart sunk into her stomach, but all she could do was nod. She felt Tonks’ gaze on the side
of her head but didn’t look at him. “It’s awful,” she said finally, after realizing that Diana expected
a response.

“I don’t understand how he keeps escaping us,” Diana continued on, oblivious to Hestia’s hesitancy
about the topic. “I suppose after being a spy for so long, he knows how to keep himself hidden, and
with all the dark magic he must’ve learned at Lord Voldemort’s side. It’s just maddening, after all
this time, to think of him being free after what he took from us.”

Diana Meadowes shook her head, jaw clenching, and another image flashed into Hestia’s mind
again: Dorcas, so many years before, with the same look of determination on her face, the heady
light of anger in her eyes, the set of her jaw that spoke of revenge. Dorcas’ voice from long ago
echoed in Hestia’s ears: “The spy is taking everything from us.” Then, her request: “don’t tell
anyone about this.”

Hestia felt suddenly cold and had to yank herself back into the present, refocusing her gaze on
Diana Meadowes’ face. She realized as she did so, however, that Diana was no longer looking at
Hestia, but at Tonks beside her.

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to work, Auror Tonks?” Diana inquired, her voice holding a cold,
authoritative note in it.

Hestia glanced from Diana to Tonks, trying to understand the look shared between them, Tonks’
brown eyes flashing a moment of anger before she nodded and looked away. As Tonks moved to
sit back at his desk, Diana gave Hestia a small, tired smile, the ice melting from her expression in
the blink of an eye.

“I should also get back,” she said. “But it was good to see you again, Hestia. Kingsley talks about
you often, you know. I had hoped I would run into you sometime here if you came to see him.”

There was a slight twinkle in her eye, and Hestia felt again like she might vomit if Diana
Meadowes looked at her like that for another moment…like she cared for her. Like Hestia was still
just Dorcas’ old school friend, still a blameless kid. Nevertheless, Hestia forced her lips up into a
small smile.

“It was nice to see you again, too, Mrs. Meadowes,” she said, feeling hollow.

Diana gave her a last smile before turning away again, disappearing out of sight.

“I didn’t know you knew Diana Meadowes,” Tonks said, a rather bitter look on his face as Hestia
approached his desk again.

Hestia nodded, swallowing the emotions that had risen in her at the sight of the older woman: guilt,
grief, pain, regret. “I knew her daughter,” she replied quietly.

Tonks raised her eyebrows, mouth forming a comprehending ‘O’ shape. He grimaced slightly.
“Sorry,” he said. “I should’ve known.”

“It’s alright. It was a long time ago,” Hestia replied, shaking her head to try and clear it. Then, her
eyes focused on Tonks, narrowing slightly. “She doesn’t like you much, does she?”

Tonks grimaced, shaking her head. “Hate might be a more appropriate term,” he said. Quickly, her
expression turned to guilt. “I shouldn’t talk like that, though. Can’t really blame her.”

Hestia raised her eyebrows quizzically, and Tonks sighed.

“People say I look like him a bit,” he admitted, his voice coming out small. “I don’t really see it,
but from the first time Auror Meadowes saw me in the office, she wanted me gone. She would’ve
gotten her way, too, if Moody hadn’t intervened. He’s still got influence, even though he’s retired.”

Tonks scratched her nose awkwardly, a frown on her face, then looked back up at Hestia.

“I sympathize with what happened to her, you know, even though I didn’t want to get fired,” she
said. “I mean, her daughter dies, then she’s passed over for promotion because some administrative
dicks think her grief makes her unreliable. Then, a decade later, she has to see me every day, a
living reminder of the bloke who probably passed information to Voldemort to get her daughter
killed. It sucks.” Tonks looked down at the desk, swallowed, then repeated again, lower: “It
sucks.”

Hestia remembered the look on Tonks’ face the first time she’d met him when he’d said: “Are you
talking about Sirius Black?” The defensiveness, as Tonks clearly tried to fight the desire to defend
the person Sirius had been, the uncle she’d known when she’d been a child. Again, Hestia had the
desire to make it right, to fix some part of what had been broken, broken in part because of her.

“Tonks, please,” Hestia said again, lowering her voice. “Please just get me into contact with your
mum.”

Tonks looked up at Hestia, his eyes unreadable and hard. They flitted back and forth across her
face, less making eye contact and more just scanning her whole being, as if he was trying to find
something to tell him whether to trust her or not. Finally, after Hestia was about to look away and
give up, Tonks gave a slow nod.

“Fine,” she conceded. “I’ll tell her to write you. You’ve got to do the rest on your own, though.”

....

Hestia left the Auror office quickly that day, wanting to avoid bumping into Kingsley and having
to explain to him what she’d been doing there. Still, after getting off her shift at St. Mungo’s later
that night, she was met with him in her sitting room, eyebrows raised and waiting for an
explanation.

“Who told you?” Hestia asked, sighing resignedly as she set her bag down and removed her boots.

“Told me what?” Kingsley asked, his voice containing a slight, wry note to it, though there was no
frustration in his eyes, just curiosity. “Is there something you need to tell me, Hes?”

Hestia hesitated, then walked over to the couch and curled up beside him, avoiding his dark,
searching eyes as he allowed her to lace his fingers with hers.

“I’m sorry,” she said, shrugging and meeting his gaze. “Yes, I went to the Auror office today to
talk to Tonks. Yes, I should’ve talked to you about it first. Who snitched on me?”

Kingsley raised his eyebrows in slight amusement at her phrasing but answered anyway. “Diana
mentioned it,” he said.

Hestia dropped her gaze to their joined hands again, nodding slowly as she felt the weight that
she’d been carrying around in her stomach grow heavier still.

“I was just surprised to hear it,” Kingsley said, stroking his thumb over the back of her hand, and
Hestia knew that his gaze was trained on her. “You’ve never been to the Auror office in all the
years I’ve worked there, not once. What was so important that you went there today?”

Hestia sighed and raised her gaze reluctantly to look at him again. “I thought—” she started, biting
the inside of her cheek before continuing. “I thought I might be able to get in contact with
Andromeda through Tonks.”

Kingsley’s brows drew down into a frown, though he waited for a moment before asking, his voice
measured: “And how did that go?”

“Tonks…wasn’t overpleased with my request,” Hestia admitted.

Kingsley nodded. “I’m not surprised, given her earlier reaction to what we told her about Sirius,”
he said.

“I…” Hestia paused, then mumbled out the admission. “I told him that Sirius wanted to see Andy.”

“You what?” Kingsley demanded, a note of panic entering his voice now, though it stayed low.

“She told me that she’d tell Andromeda to write me,” Hestia finished.

Kingsley stared at her for a long moment, his eyes wide. Then, he drew his hand back from hers
and rubbed both palms over his face for a moment, taking a deep breath before dropping them and
looking at her again.

“Hes, I love you, and I love that you care about your friend enough to try to do this for him,” he
said. “But you do realize that you admitted to an Auror you barely know that you know where a
wanted criminal is? Tonks could easily go to someone else and tell them that, no matter what he
told you. That would get all of us into a lot of trouble, and Sirius didn’t even ask to see Andromeda
in the first place.”

“I know,” Hestia whispered. “I know it was stupid.”

Kingsley sighed and shook his head. “Yes,” he replied, but Hestia felt his arm snake around her
waist, pulling her closer to him. She looked up to meet his dark eyes, and he gave her an almost
amused smile. “And brave.” He planted a soft kiss on her lips. “I shouldn’t have expected anything
different from you.”

Hestia tried to smile, but it faltered, and she shook her head, feeling the sudden pressure of tears
behind her eyes instead. “I just wanted to do something,” she said, her voice thick. “Just something
that would make me feel like I can—like I can help someone.”

Kingsley’s arm around her waist tightened protectively, and he used his other hand to cup her face,
brushing his thumb softly across her cheekbone. He looked at her for a long moment, and Hestia
could see the concern in his dark eyes, searching her face for an answer. Finally, he asked the
question she knew he would: “Is there anything you need to tell me, Hes?”

Hestia shut her eyes tightly, trying to stave off tears, and gave her head a short, determined shake.

Kingsley was silent for a moment, then he pressed on: “This last year, it’s felt like there’s
something weighing on you. I know finding out about Sirius and Peter was hard, and I thought it
was just that for a while, but it feels like there’s still something you’re not sharing.”

Hestia pressed her eyelids even more tightly closed, and shook her head again, though a soft, dry
sob wrenched its way from her throat against her will.

“Look at me, Hes,” Kingsley said gently, his thumb still brushing soft, comforting circles on her
cheek. “You can tell me anything.”

“I can’t,” Hestia said, her whole body trembling slightly as she shook her head again. “You won’t
—you won’t look at me the same if I tell you.”

There was a long pause, where it seemed that Kingsley was trying to find the right words to reply.
Finally, he said: “I know who you are, Hestia Jones.” His voice was low and steady as ever, though
there was an extra comforting note to it, one that she knew well, the one that felt like a lullaby to
her ears. He continued, “I’ll always look at you the same. Just let me help you carry whatever it is
you’re holding onto.”

Hestia wanted to shake her head again, to push him away, but the soothing note to his deep voice
was too much, and she opened her eyes to look back at him. “I can’t,” she said softly. “I can’t ask
that of you. It’s too heavy…too heavy a burden for anyone to bear.”

Kingsley looked back at her for a long moment, then shook his head. His hand dropped from her
cheek to lay across her hands, which were in her lap. “You have to tell someone, Hes,” he said. “I
can tell that whatever it is, it’s eating you up inside. You have to tell someone.”

Hestia looked away from him for a moment, her eyes scanning over the flat, the place she’d lived
for seventeen whole years. She looked at the little dent in the wall that Mary had knocked into with
a transfigured rolling chair in the first year they’d lived there, drunk at midnight and having too
much fun to care. Her eyes scanned over the patch of green on the ceiling that had been some
strange goo Sirius and James had managed to conjure one day and stick there, which no one had
ever been able to scrape all the way off. She looked at the burn on the counter where Lily had
discarded a hot pan without thinking of the wood. All things they hadn’t bothered to cover up or
fix, either because they forgot or because part of each of them wanted the reminders.

Hestia’s gaze flickered to the door of her bedroom, slightly ajar, and thought of the memories there,
of Peter lying next to her at night. Those were memories she didn’t want reminders of. She looked
back to Kingsley, who was still watching her with concern, and sighed.

“Did I ever tell you about me and Peter?”

It was a question she already knew the answer to, of course. She knew she hadn’t told him. Hestia
hadn’t been able to bear talking about Peter in the years after his supposed death, and it’d
definitely been too personal a conversation for her and Kingsley when they’d been just beginning
to be friends in those early years. Then, when their relationship had shifted into something more,
years down the line, it’d felt strange for her to bring it up.

“What do you mean, you and Peter?” Kingsley asked, raising his eyebrows. There was no
judgment in his gaze, only gentle curiosity.

“We—” Hestia swallowed, looking around as if she might find the right words to describe what
they’d been written on one of the walls. When she didn’t, she looked back to meet Kingsley’s gaze.
“We were…involved, I suppose, in the last year or so of the first war. I can’t think of a good word
to describe it, really.”

“You were…together?” Kingsley asked tentatively.

Hestia shook her head. “Not exactly,” she said. Her hands knotted together in her lap as she thought
back to how it’d been all those years ago, the memories still eliciting an ache in her, even after all
that time.

“We never talked about it much, what we were to each other. But I loved him, and I thought…”
She shook her head, unable to finish the sentence.

Kingsley was very still next to her, but his eyes were soft, not accusing. He just looked sad.
“Alright,” he said slowly after a moment of silence. “Is that…all?”

Hestia felt tears well into her eyes, and she shook her head. “No,” she said, pressing her lips tightly
together for a moment to keep another sob from emerging. “I—I messed up. I more than messed
up. I—I trusted him, Kingsley.”

Kingsley just looked at her, eyes wide and searching hers, and he nodded. “You trusted him,” he
repeated. “Because you loved him.”

Hestia nodded, and a tear slipped down her cheek. “I should’ve known,” she said, shaking her head
again. “I should’ve seen it. I was so used to seeing things, to knowing things. I thought—I thought
that I’d know, but I was blind.”

The last word came out ragged, intermingled with a sob. Kingsley’s fingers squeezed around hers
from where they were still placed on top of her knotted hands, and she allowed him to break them
apart to intertwine their fingers again. She held him like a lifeline.

“What happened?” Kingsley asked her, his voice lower and calmer than ever as he looked at her,
and she knew that he was trying to steady her, to ground her. She loved him for it, and still, as she
met his gaze, a rush of shame rose in her.

“You remember what I told you about Dorcas, Diana Meadowes’ daughter?” she asked, her voice
small. “The letter I showed you and everything?”

Kingsley nodded, eyes not leaving hers. Hestia stifled another sob, then choked out: “Do you
remember that I said that I was the only one who knew that she was looking for the spy in the
Order because I came across her research when I went over to her flat?”
Kingsley gave another nod, and Hestia could see the conclusion forming on his face, the truth
blooming in his eyes before she even stated it.

Hestia took a deep breath, then whispered: “I wasn’t the only one who knew because…” She
closed her eyes for a moment, and let another few tears slide down her cheeks. “Because I told
Peter what I found that day. I told him…she asked me not to tell anyone, but I told him.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Hestia began to cry harder than ever. She let go of
Kingsley’s hand, covering her face with both instead as she sobbed. “A week later, she was dead!
And I found her body, and I could’ve saved her, but I didn’t. I got her killed!”

“I was so stupid,” she continued savagely. “I didn’t even think that it could be one of us, so I never
thought she meant—but she asked me to keep quiet and I couldn’t. I thought I was so good at
keeping secrets but I couldn’t keep the one that would’ve saved her! I told him because I thought
he’d never tell, because I asked him not to, because I thought he loved me, and he told Voldemort
to kill Dorcas to save himself.”

Kingsley’s arms came around her, pulling her into his chest. One hand rubbed her back as she
cried. He didn’t say anything. Hestia knew he wouldn’t try to excuse her actions, wouldn’t tell her
that it was all alright. It wasn’t alright. She knew it wasn’t, and so did he, and he wouldn’t lie to
her in that way.

It took a long time for her to stop sobbing, but when she did, she didn’t feel better, only emptier.

“Sometimes I just lie awake at night thinking about all those times I slept with him, not knowing,”
she said, pulling away from Kingsley, her eyes moving around the walls of the flat again, taking in
the sight of the memories that lay there but not really seeing them. “How many times did I do that?
How many times did I lie next to him? How many times did I joke with him on patrols? I thought I
knew who he was, and I was so wrong.”

“I don’t know,” Kingsley replied slowly. “I think you probably knew a lot of who he was.”

“Not the parts that mattered,” Hestia said bitterly.

“Maybe you knew the only parts that mattered,” Kingsley said.

Hestia felt another few tears leak from her eyes, but brushed them away frustratedly. She looked up
at Kingsley, who had a sad expression on his face as he observed her. Still, he wasn’t looking at
her like she was a terrible person, so that was something.

“If I’d never told him, Dorcas might not have been killed,” Hestia said. “She could’ve told us that
he was the spy and kept him from getting any of the rest of them killed. Marlene would still be
dead, but Lily and James, Dorcas, Benjy, the Prewetts, Edgar Bones and his family…they could all
still be alive. Sirius could’ve never gone to prison, and Remus…Remus wouldn’t have been alone.”

“It’s possible,” Kingsley said, meeting her gaze openly. “But you must know it’s also possible that
everything would still have happened, and it would just have happened another way.”

Hestia swallowed and nodded, but she didn’t really believe it.

Kingsley reached out and took his hand in hers again, holding her gaze the whole time. “He used
you,” he said. “He used you in the worst way. He hurt people you loved, and left others with the
guilt.”

Hestia started to shake her head, opening her mouth to protest, but Kingsley held up his other hand
to stop her.

“I’m not trying to say that you did nothing wrong. You did,” he said, with a shrug that felt far too
small to Hestia, far too forgiving for what she’d done. “But it wasn’t you who got her killed, at the
end of the day. It was Peter. It was Voldemort.”

“It’s the same with Sirius, you know,” Kingsley plowed on, not allowing her to protest. “He trusted
Peter and told Lily and James to make him their Secret Keeper, and they died because of it. He
blames himself for it, for trusting a friend, just as you blame yourself for trusting someone you
loved. Maybe neither of you is completely faultless in the whole of it, but there are so many others
that deserve to feel more guilt than what either of you is carrying. Ask yourself, too: how do you
think Peter got all his other information about the Order that helped him get all the others killed?
I’m sure he got it from countless other members of the Order, dead and alive, who didn’t know
they were doing anything wrong by telling him, either.”

This, for the first time, gave Hestia pause. She thought about it for a moment and realized that it
was true. She deserved guilt, sure, but maybe she alone wasn’t to blame. Maybe there was enough
blame to spread around, and maybe, if someone else had come to her with this same admission, she
would’ve told them exactly what Kingsley had told her. There were so many parts that clutching at
just one string wouldn’t prevent the rest of it from unraveling. Maybe trusting wasn’t a crime.
Sirius had thought that, after all, and his refusal to trust Remus had helped the series of events that
had gotten Lily and James killed roll into motion, too. And there was that other thing…

“I don’t know if Peter ever really wanted to be part of the Order,” Hestia said softly, her thumb
tracing over the back of Kingsley’s hand. She looked up at him, a frown on her face. “Dumbledore
wasn’t even going to ask him initially to be a member since he didn’t take Defense Against the
Dark Arts with us to N.E.W.T.s.”

“Why did he join, then?” Kingsley asked, his brows furrowing slightly, gaze tracing across her face
as he held her hand.

“James told Dumbledore to invite him,” Hestia replied, sighing out a long, regretful breath.

Kingsley frowned and shook his head. “James always saw the best in everyone,” he said heavily.

Hestia nodded, her eyes filling with tears. “Lily was more cautious,” she remembered, with a small,
watery smile. “She was more prone to believe the worst than the best of people. Except for those
closest to her.”

“Was that why she trusted Peter?”

“No,” Hestia said, wiping her eyes a little angrily. “No, she trusted Peter because she trusted
James, and James trusted Peter. They were never close.”

Hestia understood, then, that there was blame to go around. It didn’t make it better, what she’d
done, but it made it easier to carry.

“Seeing Diana today was horrible,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “I just kept feeling like she
shouldn’t look at me like I was good when she was talking about Sirius like she hated him. I wish I
could just give her closure, tell her how it happened, but I don’t think she’d be able to hear it.”

Kingsley shook his head, too, the expression on his face solemn. “For better or for worse, Diana
has coped with her loss through anger toward Sirius for too long for her mind to be changed,” he
said.
“You didn’t tell me that she tried to get Tonks removed from the program because of it.”

“I didn’t know that was why she did it until Tonks told us that he was related to Sirius at the
Quidditch World Cup,” Kingsley replied. “I never connected the dots, and Tonks doesn’t advertise
that he’s related to her for that exact reason, I’m sure.”

“Do you think it’ll end badly?” Hestia asked, scanning Kingsley’s face anxiously. “The meeting, I
mean, if it ever happens.”

Kingsley hesitated, then shrugged. “I’ve never met Andromeda,” he said. “And it wasn’t as if
Sirius and I were very close when I was in school, either. We just played on the same Quidditch
team. I never heard him speak about her, not that I can remember, anyway.”

“They were close before everything happened,” Hestia said. “Andy and Sirius, they were the only
born family the other had left who would speak to them after their uncle died. The way Sirius
would talk about her made it seem like they were more like siblings, rather than cousins.”

“Well, then,” Kingsley said thoughtfully, “perhaps it’ll be good for both of them.”

“I just want to do something good,” Hestia said, frowning. “I know it’s partly my guilt talking, but I
feel like if I helped take everything away from Sirius, even if I didn’t know it, maybe I can help
give something back, too.”

Kingsley raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles softly. “I think that even if you’re
doing part of it because you feel guilty, it can still be good,” he said. “Making amends is never
easy. Many people aren’t brave enough to do it at all.”

Hestia settled into Kingsley’s arms, leaning gratefully against his chest as she thought about his
words, about all the ways there were to make amends, all the things she could try to fix, to heal,
now that she knew what she’d broken. She continued thinking about them as the sound of his soft
breathing lulled her into sleep that night.

....

The next morning, Hestia walked into St. Mungo’s Hospital for work feeling both afraid and
determined as she always did when she set her mind to an idea. She took the stairs to the third
floor, wanting to use some of her anxious energy, but by the time she reached the door of the
Antidote Research Center, it hadn’t worn down in the slightest. Hestia pushed the door open,
steeling herself and putting on a mask of neutrality to cover her anxious state as she entered.

Inside, there was the usual bubbling of cauldrons and smells of various potions drifting up from
them. Beside a lime green potion that matched Hestia’s Healer robes sat a woman with olive skin
and circles under her large, brown eyes. When she looked up at Hestia, Hestia realized she knew
her as one of the people Lily had once worked with, though she couldn’t remember her name.
Hestia never came to this floor much, these days.

“What can I do for you?” the woman asked politely, her eyes flitting over Hestia’s robes and
badge.

“Do you have a stock of Wolfsbane Potion?” Hestia asked, trying to fill her voice with confidence
and authority, not allowing it to shake with the question.

The woman raised her eyebrows slightly but nodded. “Yes, follow me,” she said, standing and
walking toward a door on the far side of the room.
Taking a deep breath, Hestia followed her. Perhaps she was doing it out of guilt, or perhaps it was
for good reasons, but Hestia thought that in this situation, it might really not matter. Hestia thought
she might’ve always owed Remus this bravery, even if she hadn’t known it before.
 1995: Back to Grimmauld Place
Chapter Notes

cw: descriptions of past abuse, unpacking of trauma

me: *points to Sirius*

me: this bad boy can fit so much projected trauma in him

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The sound of the old door creaking open felt louder in the silence of early morning, echoing in
Remus’ ears until the door stopped, knocking against the wall with a soft thump as it did so. He
peered inside, down the dark hallway within, and could smell the scent of abandonment: dust,
mildew, and something rotten underneath. Perhaps the something rotten was imagined because
Remus knew the evil that lurked in the very foundations of the place.

Remus glanced beside him at Sirius, stock still on the doorstep and staring inside as though he was
staring down the gallows. He reached out to take his hand, and Sirius flinched briefly before
calming as Remus laced their fingers together.

“You don’t have to do this,” Remus said not for the first time, knowing that there was a note of
pleading in his voice.

There was a moment of silence, where Sirius didn’t look at him, just seemed to brace his shoulders
as he stared down the empty hallway. Then, he shook his head.

“No,” he said. “No, I’m alright.”

He placed one foot over the threshold, cautiously at first, then took another step when the house
didn’t immediately eject him. Remus followed him inside reluctantly, glancing behind him at the
empty street before closing the door and locking it, throwing them into darkness. Quickly, Remus
lit his wand and let the light trail over the walls.

Remus could admit that he’d spent many hours thinking about what Sirius’ home looked like back
when they’d been teenagers, when those flat, brooding expressions stole over Sirius’ face just
before he was due to return to it. In recent years, however, Remus hadn’t thought of it much. He’d
read the news when Walburga Black had died, four years after Sirius had been put in prison and six
years after her husband and younger son had both passed. He’d wondered, then, whether she’d
been proud of Sirius in the end, upon receiving the news that he’d become a Death Eater. The
thought had made him sick.

Still, here it was: the cage Sirius had spent eleven years in, then returned to every summer for five
more. The wallpaper was dark, peeling in some places, and the walls were lined with portraits.
Some were empty, their occupants no doubt having other, better places to spend their time rather
than this musty, abandoned house, but most seemed to be sleeping. Remus’ eyes fell to the floor,
where the carpet lay thick with dust, though he could still see that it must’ve once been a sight to
behold, ornate patterns showing through the layers of grime.

Remus raised his wand higher, his gaze following the carpet into the entrance hall beyond, which
was still shrouded in shadow. A movement from Sirius at his side made Remus tear his eyes away
from the house’s features to look at him in concern. In the dim wandlight, Sirius appeared frozen,
his eyes staring blankly ahead into the darkness as if he was looking into an infinite chasm.

Remus squeezed his hand, and Sirius tore his gaze from the hall beyond to him almost unwillingly.
Remus could see the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, but he gave Remus a small,
grateful smile.

“I’m alright,” he said again, as if he was trying to reassure himself as much as Remus, his voice
barely a whisper. “I can do this.”

Remus let Sirius lead the way down the hallway, though he kept his wand aloft to illuminate their
progress. Their footsteps were muffled by the dust on the carpet, but Remus sensed that Sirius was
making an extra effort to keep his footfalls soft on the floor, too. He wasn’t sure why, but he
copied him nonetheless.

When they reached the entrance hall they stopped, following Remus’ wandlight with their eyes as
they looked around at the closed doors that lined the hall and the ornate staircase. Just like the
hallway, everything here was covered in dust, and it was deathly quiet. Remus looked around at
the portraits on the walls, his eyes lingering briefly on one which depicted a woman in what looked
like a bright fuchsia dress—the color visible even through the grime—wearing a wig teased so tall
that it almost reached the top of her frame, who was snoring softly.

Sirius released Remus’ hand and stepped away to examine the walls, too, stopping next to a large
frame covered by a set of velvet curtains. Remus watched him, seeing how Sirius’ eyes narrowed
slightly, his hand going out as if to touch the frame but hovering an inch away instead, as if he was
afraid it would bite him. Remus considered that this might actually be a possibility, given what
Sirius had told him about his family.

“This wasn’t here when I left,” Sirius whispered, still examining the large picture frame on the
wall. Remus frowned and joined Sirius beside it, tilting his head at the covered picture.

“Wonder why it’s covered,” he returned, his voice low to match Sirius’.

Sirius shook his head in slight puzzlement, too. “I don’t know,” he replied slowly. “But I’m not
about to look and find out. You never know with my family.”

Remus nodded, glancing at Sirius. After a moment, he asked the question he’d been wondering
about since arriving here, mostly just to fill the silence: “Why are we whispering?”

Sirius glanced sideways at him, his grey eyes dark in the gloom, and shrugged. His gaze trailed
across the walls of the entrance hall, then down the front hallway again.

“I don’t really know,” he replied, still keeping his voice as low as ever. “I just feel like we
might…” He trailed off, looking back at Remus as though he was trying to find the right words.
“...wake something.”

Remus glanced around, feeling a slight prickle at the back of his neck at the ominous words, but
only nodded, glancing back at Sirius. “Where should we go next?” he asked, wanting to let Sirius
take the lead.

Sirius’ gaze was on the staircase, and, without answering, he began to climb it, Remus following in
his wake, looking behind them every once in a while. He had a strange feeling that someone might
be watching them.
They made their way through the floors quietly, sometimes entering the rooms on each level,
sometimes bypassing them. Each room seemed almost the same as the last: dark, desolate, and
cold. Remus could tell that, even without the dust and feeling of abandonment the place now had,
it would’ve always been dark and gloomy. Sirius was quiet beside him, though he very
occasionally interjected a comment in a low voice, and Remus could sense that a part of him was
trying for the lightness he’d used to cover up the anger and fear the place had elicited when they’d
been kids, but not quite managing it. Sirius’ shoulders were tensed beside Remus, and his quiet
made him seem smaller than usual, too.

Remus hated it. He’d hated the idea as soon as Sirius had presented it, but Sirius had wanted to do
something so badly. Remus knew that Sirius felt helpless, knew he hated feeling as if he couldn’t
do anything but wait. Perhaps he’d wanted, too, to have the satisfaction of turning this place on its
head, of transforming his blood-elitist family’s old home into the headquarters of the anti-
Voldemort movement. Still, now that he was here, Remus could tell that Sirius wasn’t feeling as
powerful as he’d hoped.

Remus remembered how Sirius had looked the day after he’d run away from this house when he’d
been sixteen. He’d appeared pale, sickly, and shell-shocked, maybe, but there’d also been
something else in his air, Remus had thought then, something like joy. There’d been hope in his
eyes, something that said: Maybe it won’t be like this forever. Remus had tried so hard to put words
to that look, tried to use it in their arguments over the past few days, to make Sirius remember the
life that this place had taken out of him, the hope. It’d still not been enough to convince Sirius not
to come back.

When they reached the landing of the top floor of the house, Remus’ knee was aching slightly, but
he didn’t mention it. Sirius was looking between the two doors on either side of what must be a
bathroom, his expression hard, and Remus didn’t have time to read the letters on the front of each
before Sirius strode toward the one on the left, pulling out his wand and pointing it at the doorknob
in a swift movement. The lock clicked open and Sirius twisted the knob almost savagely, making
Remus worry briefly that it would break in his hand.

When Sirius strode through the doorway, Remus followed curiously, wondering what this room
was to inspire such venom in him. For a moment, as Remus looked around, he thought it might be
Sirius’ old room. When he saw the green and silver hangings, the family crest on the wall, and
finally, the newspaper clippings above the bed, Remus realized who truly had lived here.

There was still an empty owl cage sitting on top of the wardrobe, and the bed was still made. The
desk was neat and tidy, quill and ink pot pushed near the wall, both covered in dust, like the rest of
the room. It looked like a room that someone had expected to come back to, Remus thought,
though even after all these years, he still knew no more now about what’d happened to Sirius’
brother than when he’d first disappeared.

“What a fucking idiot,” Sirius said, his voice no longer a whisper, and when Remus looked over at
him in surprise, he saw that Sirius was examining the news clippings above Regulus’ bed.

Remus walked over to him, reading the clippings, too. They contained what he’d expected from his
brief glance at them from across the room: early stories about Voldemort’s rise to power. He
supposed Regulus had started following his movements before he’d become a Death Eater.

Still, Sirius’ tone surprised Remus. They hadn’t spoken at all about Regulus since Sirius had been
back, and, admittedly, he’d not been brought up much in the years since his death when they’d
been younger, either.

“What do you mean?” Remus asked, raising his eyebrows at Sirius.

Sirius didn’t look at him, just waved a hand to the rest of the room, an uncharacteristic look of
disgust on his face.

“This fucking shit,” he said, shaking his head. “I spent so long when I was younger trying to keep
him from being this, and he was still stupid enough to go down this road anyway. Got himself
killed, all because he never bothered to question any of it until it was too late, and then it was
probably just because he was too cowardly to follow through. Wanker.”

Remus’ eyes stayed on Sirius’ face as he ranted, scanning across it, trying to solve the problem that
was his expression and his words. Remus thought that it was similar to the looks that had flashed
across Sirius’ face whenever Peter was mentioned, but that Remus understood better. Remus had
spent years, after all, compartmentalizing his love for Sirius, so it’d been easier to do the same for
Peter when he’d found out that he’d been the traitor all along. Sirius hadn’t had that time.

Now, however, Remus realized that perhaps that hadn’t been the whole of it. Perhaps Azkaban had
stripped away more from Sirius than Remus had realized.

He didn’t ask Sirius why that day, didn’t question his anger as he looked around his brother’s room
with fire blazing in his eyes. Remus thought he might try to tear it apart for a moment, tear down
the newspaper clippings from the walls or shove the furniture over in his anger, but he didn’t. After
a long moment, Sirius just turned out of the room, Remus following, and locked the door behind
them. Remus didn’t need to clarify the unspoken rule that no one would be entering this room,
ever.

It was only then that Sirius turned toward the other door, his movements slower this time, less
angry. He looked a bit calmer, turning the doorknob and stepping inside, his shoulders slightly
more relaxed, but there was a hesitancy there, too. Just like with Regulus’ room, however, Remus
didn’t ask, just followed him inside, thinking he knew what he might find there.

Remus may not have been able to admit it to himself fully when he’d been a teenager, but much of
the time he’d spent wondering about what Sirius’ house might look like had been occupied by
dwelling on an invented image of his room. Of course, he’d been able to fulfill that particular
curiosity after seeing Sirius’ room at the Potters, once Sirius had decorated it to his liking. This
room, however, was a bit different.

Remus stared around the walls with his mouth slightly open, taking in the faded Gryffindor banner,
and then, much more scandalously, the posters of Muggle girls in bikinis, alongside a Bowie poster
and a poster of a motorcycle. He almost wanted to smile at the thought of a younger Sirius here,
picking and choosing what precisely would make his parents the angriest and plastering them up
carefully. When Remus’ eyes fell to the wall next to the bed, he saw a photograph covered in a
layer of dust, but which he could still make out as that of the Marauders. Remus wondered if Sirius
had placed it there to feel less alone in his younger years.

When Remus’ eyes finally fell on the other features in the room, he wasn’t surprised to see that it
was messy. This, unlike Regulus’ room, showed the signs of the previous occupant packing and
leaving in haste. There were still books and clothes strewn across the floor from long ago, pieces of
old parchment and mess on the desk. A quill stood there next to an open bottle of ink as if Sirius
hadn’t bothered to cap it again after scribbling a letter. It was strange to think that it might’ve sat
there like that for nineteen whole years, forgotten.

“I suppose my parents never wanted to touch this room once I left,” Sirius said, his voice echoing
in the room. He was looking around at everything, hands loose by his sides, an unreadable
expression on his face. Glancing over at Remus, he shrugged. “I’m not sure if I’m surprised or not
that everything’s the same as I left it. I half expected them to have burned all my things.”
Remus gave him a small, shy grin. “I like it,” he said, a slightly teasing note in his voice.

He wasn’t sure if it would go over well or not, but he hoped it might get Sirius to smile, too. Sirius
didn’t quite smile, but there was a ghost of something like amusement over his lips, all the same,
and perhaps that was the most he could do for the moment.

“You like it?” he echoed, raising his eyebrows as he turned fully to face Remus.

Remus shrugged, nodding. “It looks like I always expected it would, I think,” he said. That was
true about the house, too, but he hoped Sirius could just take it to mean only this room for now.
Remus remembered Sirius saying in a letter to him, once, that when his door was closed he
sometimes felt like the room could belong somewhere else, as if it wasn’t tethered to the rest of the
house. Perhaps Remus could make him feel the same, now.

Sirius really did smile, then. “Spent a long time thinking about it back then, did you?” he asked, his
voice teasing too, a flicker of familiar mischief in his grey eyes.

Remus smiled, shrugging again. “Maybe,” he admitted.

Sirius kept grinning and opened his mouth to speak, taking a step closer to Remus, but at that
moment, they both heard an unmistakable creak of floorboards from outside the door. Both men
snapped their heads around to look at the closed door, and they were silent for a moment as they
waited for something else to happen. When nothing did, Remus glanced back at Sirius, and Sirius
narrowed his eyes at him, clearly as confused and alarmed as Remus was.

Both wizards raised their wands in unison, turning toward the door. Remus, who’d been standing
closer to it than Sirius, reached it first, opening the door cautiously to peer out onto the landing. It
seemed to be empty, and Remus glanced back at Sirius with his brows furrowed for a moment.
Sirius moved past him out onto the landing, shining his wandlight around toward the doors and
then the staircase.

At first, Remus thought that there was nothing to be seen, but Sirius obviously felt differently, as he
whirled toward the door of the loo and directed his wandlight at it, pushing the door none-too-
gently as he called out: “Who’s there?!”

Sirius’ voice echoed down the stairs and through the big house, and Remus had the strange sense
that a ripple passed through it, as if it was waking, just as Sirius had been worried about earlier.
Still, Remus focused on the spot where Sirius was directing his attention, peering inside the loo
alongside him. Again, he first thought that there was nothing to be found there, but after a moment,
there was another slight rustling sound, followed by a few scuffling footsteps. Into the doorway
crept a small figure, squinting in the wandlight and looking up at them.

Remus made out the shape of the house-elf’s bat-like ears, the large bulbous nose, and the slightly
bloodshot eyes. The rag he was wearing around his middle was grey with dirt, and though Remus
had only met a few house-elves in his life, he didn’t think most of them had been this filthy. The
most noticeable thing about this one, however, was the malevolent glare he was giving the pair of
them, his large eyes filled with utter hatred.

“Master Sirius,” he croaked out, his voice hoarse and low, each word etched with clear disgust.
“Back again in disgrace,” he muttered, even more quietly.

Remus glanced at Sirius and found that his face was mirroring the disgust back at the elf.

“Kreacher,” he said slowly, his jaw clenching as he looked down at the elf. There was a pause,
which only seemed to serve to give both wizard and elf a chance to glare at each other even more
distastefully than before. Then, Sirius asked: “You’ve really stayed here, all these years?”

Kreacher bowed his head in a mockery of respect. “I live to serve the most noble and ancient house
of Black,” he said.

Sirius snorted, shaking his head. “Figures.”

Remus felt Kreacher’s eyes drift up to him, his gaze clearly following the line of one of the scars
on his face malevolently, then flicking to the ground. Sirius glanced next to him at Remus then
away again quickly, and Remus realized that Sirius couldn’t bring himself to meet his eyes in this
moment, when faced with a living, breathing reminder of all his family had been.

“What have you been doing here, then, all alone?” Sirius asked, glancing around the landing and
then back at Kreacher.

The house-elf paused for a moment, raising his gaze slowly up to Sirius, and Remus felt the
resentment oozing from his stare, his distrust palpable. “Kreacher has company,” the house-elf
replied, his tone holding an eerie note in it.

Sirius narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. “My mother died almost a decade ago,” he said.
“And, as I understand it, Uncle Cygnus bit the dust last year, too. I doubt any of my cousins have
been paying you visits.”

“Kreacher doesn’t know how master would know that,” Kreacher replied, his lip curling. “When
master’s been in prison.”

His voice sounded almost gleeful, and Remus’ hand shot out to grasp Sirius’ wrist, worried he
might lunge at the elf. Sirius’ pulse thundered under Remus’ fingers, but he didn’t move, just
glared down at the house-elf with hatred written all over his face.

“I wasn’t the only one there, Kreacher,” he taunted. “If you knew that I was in prison, you must
know darling Bellatrix is still there, along with her other Death Eater friends. Was mother proud
when she found out, I wonder?”

Kreacher didn’t seem perturbed by Sirius’ words, rather, a wide, horrible smile spread across his
face, his lips pulling back to reveal several rotted teeth.

“Prouder that you got caught,” he said. “My mistress heard all about how Master Sirius got
dragged off to prison, dragged off by those Aurors who he called friends. Caught. Caught like a rat
in a trap. Paying for all his mistakes, after all these years.”

Then, Kreacher began to laugh, loud and malevolent and mocking, and even in the low light,
Remus could see the color drain from Sirius’ face.

Kreacher’s laughter seemed to set off a signal as it rang through the house because the sounds of
other voices started up as he continued to cackle, other laughter and screams and unintelligible
words filling the empty space. One rose louder than the rest, however, her words carrying up to
them clearly from the entrance hall, and from her words, Remus knew that she must’ve been
listening all along, or else Kreacher had informed her of their presence.

“Filthy blood traitor, how dare you return here! How dare you come back to bring shame to our
name again! Vile, twisted, rotten—”

Sirius’ wrist was yanked from Remus’ grip as he bolted down the staircase, leaving the cackling
elf in his wake. Remus didn’t wait to follow him, taking the stairs two at a time as he ignored the
ache in his left knee, determined not to lose Sirius as he followed the sound of the voice. When
Remus skidded to a halt in the entrance hall, he found Sirius staring in horror at the large ornate
picture frame that he’d been examining earlier. The curtains were open now, no longer obscuring
the image of the woman painted there.

Though Remus had never actually seen the real Walburga Black in person, he knew her at once,
because the memory of how Sirius’ boggart had transformed into her in their third-year D.A.D.A.
classroom was forever seared into Remus’ brain. She looked much older now, however, aged by
something more than just time, skin yellowed and eyes bulging, brandishing clawed hands at them
as she continued to scream at her only remaining son.

Remus stared on in horror, not even processing the words that came flying from the portrait. After
a moment, Remus glanced over at Sirius, and something inside him tore apart at the sight because
Sirius was standing just staring at her, too, his face pale as death.

At that moment, Remus saw a flash of Sirius at thirteen, shoulders hunched and eyes wide and
terrified, standing in front of the boggart version of his mother with his wand held loosely at his
side. Remus’ instinct was the same now as it’d been all those years ago. He stepped in front of
Sirius.

“Shut up!” Remus yelled into Walburga Black’s livid face, and her eyes popped at the sight of him,
at his nerve to speak to her. Before she could turn her madness onto him, however, he continued.
“You’re dead, you old hag! You’re dead! No one cares what you think, or what you have to say, so
just shut up!”

With that, Remus slashed his wand savagely at the curtains, and, with more of an effort than it
should’ve taken, they snapped closed, drowning out whatever words Walburga had been about to
say. Despite her forced silence, however, the other portraits continued to babble over one another,
words unintelligible, but Remus ignored them, turning to look at Sirius. He was as still as he’d been
moments ago, staring straight ahead. His grey eyes looked hollow, as tired as they’d been when
Remus first saw him after he’d escaped from Azkaban.

In earlier years, when this sort of expression came over Sirius’ face, Remus might’ve backed away.
He still wasn’t sure he knew how to decipher it, still wasn’t sure what the right thing to do was
when he saw the shutters come across Sirius’ eyes and his expression grew dark. Now, however,
he suddenly felt that it was important to try to bridge the gap.

“Hey,” he said softly, though his voice echoed in the large entrance hall, still audible over the
racket the portraits were making.

Sirius didn’t respond, however, his eyes still staring blankly at the curtain over Remus’ shoulder,
looking lost. Remus reached out slowly, not sure if it was the right thing to do, but when his fingers
brushed the fabric over Sirius’ shoulder, his hand squeezing it gently, Sirius’ gaze became less
hazy.

“Come back to me,” Remus said, his voice still low, and miraculously, Sirius’ eyes finally fixed
back on his. It was like seeing a door open in Sirius’ eyes, and Remus knew right then that this was
something new for them. Perhaps it was being in this house. Perhaps this had been what the inside
of Sirius’ mind looked like whenever he retreated from the world, where no one could reach him.

Sirius didn’t seem to have done it on purpose, as he stared up at Remus, looking shell-shocked and
younger than usual. Remus didn’t hesitate this time, however, didn’t question whether it was the
right action to take or not when he wrapped his arms around Sirius and pulled him into a hug.
When Sirius’ hands linked behind his waist in response, Remus thought that perhaps he’d spent far
too many years giving Sirius space when he got like this.

Remus held Sirius for a long time after that, long enough for the portraits to get bored with their
screaming and quiet down and for Kreacher to slip down the staircase and cast them a malevolent
glance before disappearing into a door at the edge of the hall. Sirius didn’t cry, but he was
trembling slightly, and Remus could feel the short breaths against his neck, calming the longer
they held one another.

It was Sirius who drew back finally, taking a deep breath. “I—” he started, glancing around at the
hall again before looking back at Remus. “Maybe I can’t do this after all.”

There was a shake to his voice, a note of shame in it, and though all Remus wanted to do was pull
him out of this house, he couldn’t let it stand. He couldn’t let Sirius leave with the belief that his
family had beaten him once again.

“They can’t hurt you anymore,” he said. “Fuck this house, and fuck them. We can leave right now
if you want to, or we can stay and turn it into something better. But you’re strong enough to do
either—I know you are.”

Sirius shook his head, his eyes flicking back to the portrait behind Remus. “I don’t feel very strong
right now,” he said. The faraway look in his eyes flickered back into place for a moment, but when
his gaze settled back on Remus, it left as soon as it’d come.

“When I was a kid, I used to fantasize about setting her on fire,” he said, gesturing a helpless hand
to the closed curtains. Sirius shook his head, giving a sardonic smile. “I imagined she’d just go up
in flames, all of her with just one match, and then burn this place down with her.”

He turned slowly on the spot, eyes moving across the doors on the sides of the entrance hall and up
the stairs again. Suddenly, he was moving again, striding toward a door on the far side of the hall
and opening it, Remus on his heels. As they entered, Remus registered the long table, high straight-
backed chairs lining it, a dusty chandelier in the middle of the ceiling. Sirius opened his arms wide
as if to gesture to the room, then turned to Remus again.

“I’d sit here for meals with my family and just picture tearing everything apart with my bare hands.
I’d imagine ripping the wallpaper off the walls, throwing the dishes on the floor, getting up on the
table, and just grabbing onto the chandelier and pulling until it came crashing down. It was the
only thing that kept me from screaming,” he said.

He didn’t smile this time, just looked sad as his eyes raked over the tapestries on the walls, the
fireplace set behind the end of the table.

“At the end of the day, though, it was always her who had the power, no matter how much I
imagined doing all of it. And guess what?” He looked over at Remus again, his gaze dark and
bitter. “She still does.”

Remus knew better this time than to say that it wasn’t true. Sirius looked exhausted, his limbs
slumping. He moved to sit against the wall next to the table, and Remus followed him, sitting
down beside him and hoping that his nearness would be enough to comfort Sirius.

“My mother put the Cruciatus Curse on me for the first time in this room,” Sirius said. His eyes
focused on a point on the carpet, and he pointed it out to Remus, gaze not leaving it as he did so.
“Right there. Christmas dinner, 1972. I fell right onto a pile of broken glass from where my Uncle
Cygnus threw his glass at the wall during dinner.”
Remus’ fists clenched as his gaze focused, too, on the empty patch of carpet that Sirius had pointed
to. He took a deep, calming breath, and unclenched his fingers, reaching out to take Sirius’ hand in
his instead. He didn’t speak as he threaded his fingers through Sirius’, just let Sirius continue.

“This was where Bellatrix put the curse on me, too, the night I left,” Sirius said, his voice barely a
whisper now. “The times in between blur together, but those two stand out.”

There was a long silence, where Remus waited to see if there was more that Sirius needed off his
chest, but Sirius didn’t speak.

“We can eat in the kitchen,” Remus said simply.

Sirius looked over at him, slight confusion in his gaze, and Remus squeezed his hand, giving him a
small smile.

“When the Order gets here, I mean,” he added. “We can take our meals in the kitchen. It’s in the
basement, right?”

“Yeah,” Sirius replied, looking surprised. “Yeah, we can eat there.”

His posture slumped further, then, as if an immense weight had been taken off of his shoulders
with the possibility that he might not have to go into this room again. His eyes flicked between both
of Remus’ as if he was trying to find something in them to tell him whether he should turn and run.
Remus held his gaze in silence for a moment before speaking again.

“You can tell me anything you want, or nothing,” he said. “And we can figure it out if you still
want to do this, or we can leave this house and tell Dumbledore it wasn’t an option after all. It’s up
to you.”

Sirius nodded and glanced around the room again, a contemplative look coming over his face for a
moment. He nodded again, then stood, pulling Remus up after him. Without releasing Remus’
hand, Sirius walked toward the door and they left the dining room together. Sirius shut the door
behind them then pulled out his wand and locked it magically, the lock clicking into place with
finality. When he turned back to Remus, there was a determined look on his face.

“I want to do this,” he said. “I want to help.”

“Alright,” Remus replied. “We’ll figure it out, then.”

The look Sirius gave him then was something familiar, but familiar in a distant way, as if Remus
was looking at him from another world. It was like looking at the Sirius he’d been before the world
had crashed down on both of their shoulders, back in their seventh-year dormitory after that party,
when he’d looked up at Remus in awe and told him he knew what he wanted then. Sirius didn’t
kiss Remus this time, but Remus hadn’t expected him to, not here, not with his mother’s covered
portrait only a few yards from them. Instead, they set to work.

....

The rediscovery of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place was a long, difficult process. There were
practical measures to take, sure, but most of the difficulty was just having to go through each room
and uncover each memory that came with it. It happened over hours and days, and sometimes
Sirius would be silent through it, though during many other moments, he’d narrate the flashbacks
that came at him from every corner of the house.

Most were difficult to hear. Many made Remus want to tear the house apart with his bare hands,
just as Sirius had talked about wanting to do as a kid. He was strong for Sirius, though, as he made
stories out of the dust and cobwebs that covered every inch of the house. By the time most of the
dust was cleared and they were able to assess the house for its capabilities, as well as flag the areas
that needed more work, other stories emerged, too. Sirius began to speak about times of their
shared youth, not just those contained in these walls, and Remus joined him.

They spoke of James, the mess of his hair, and the way he’d laughed. Of Lily, the glint of anger in
her eyes when Sirius had ticked her off in their early years and her encyclopedic knowledge of
hexes. Of Marlene, the twinkle in her blue eyes and her signature crooked smile. Of Dorcas, her
genius and the way she’d cared so deeply about everyone even an inch deserving of it.

They told stories of the living, too. Of Hestia, her knowing smile and the slightly annoying air of
nosiness that she’d carried around ever since they’d known her. Of Emmeline, her young shyness
transforming into more steady certainty as they’d grown up. Of Mary, the blazes of sudden
courage that would come off her, unexpected and incredible to behold.

They argued one day after Remus had told a story of Peter along with the rest because Remus
knew Sirius still wanted to forget, and Remus didn’t. Sirius would stiffen, too, if Remus ever
mentioned Regulus. Still, Remus refused to censor himself when it came to them. He’d sensed the
way that the years between them, and Azkaban, had sharpened Sirius’ emotions to a knife’s point,
had bound everything so tight that so much complexity had been lost, and he wanted to help him
untwist them. Sometimes, Sirius would forget things, moments that had fallen down a deep hole in
his mind after spending twelve years with the dementors. Remus helped him remember.

One day, they stopped talking about just their friends. One day, Sirius smiled at Remus with an old
sparkle in his eyes and began to tell a story about a little boy with wavy brown hair who’d sat under
the Sorting Hat in their first year, shaking ever so slightly, a serious look in his eyes. He told the
story of the first time Remus had snatched a parchment detailing a prank plan from Sirius’ hands,
rolled his eyes, and berated every stupid aspect of it before telling him exactly how to make it
better.

Remus only smiled and returned the gesture in kind, talking about the stiff posture Sirius had shed
quickly upon his arrival at Hogwarts, and the false confidence and arrogance he’d never shaken.
He talked about their first flying lesson, and how Sirius had tried to escape on his broomstick to the
rest of the grounds before Madam Hooch had summoned him back with an easy flick of her wand.
He talked about the narrowed-eyed looks Sirius had given him when he’d been trying to find out
Remus’ secret with the full moons, about the smiles over meals in the Great Hall, and about
chocolate slipped onto his side table when Remus got back to his dormitory after a long day.

They didn’t talk about the present. They didn’t talk about the way their arms found one another
when they needed it most, after long days of processing memories, digging up old hurts and
burying them again, better this time. They didn’t talk about the way their lips found one another,
about the ways their hands searched each other’s bodies greedily as they’d done years before. They
didn’t have to talk about the fact that when they returned to the flat, Sirius was no longer sleeping
on the couch. Perhaps it was just too much, for now, to talk about it, or perhaps it was unnecessary.
Remus wasn’t sure which.

This was the way they went through the house, making room for the good memories they
uncovered to counterbalance the bad. Sometimes the bad still won. Some feelings weren’t
recovered, after so long buried. Some memories had turned sour over the years and couldn’t be
retrieved in their original forms. And yet Remus knew when he felt Sirius shake against him with
tears in bed at night, then get up the next morning and smile, that he’d come further than anyone
might’ve thought possible.
 Then one morning at the flat, before they were set to head over to Grimmauld Place for the day, an
unexpected yet wonderful thing happened. There was a short buzz of the intercom downstairs,
someone waiting to be let in.

Remus, confused, pressed the intercom, asking: “Who is it?”

A pause ensued, making Remus wonder if it’d been pressed by mistake, but finally, a voice spoke.

“Remus?” the woman asked, her voice sounding nervous but familiar. “Remus, it’s—it’s Andy. I
—I came to see—” There was a pause, with the crackle of the intercom still going as Remus
strained his ears for her to continue, eyes wide in shock.

“I came to see Sirius,” Andromeda said, her voice now very quiet, his name coming out in barely a
whisper. “Hestia told me that he’s here.”

Remus glanced over to Sirius, who was standing in the kitchen without a shirt on, a mug of tea in
his hands, and his eyebrows knitted in confusion as he looked at Remus. He mouthed, ‘who is it?’
but Remus didn’t reply, turning back to the intercom and saying quietly into it: “You can come
up.” He released the button for the intercom and pressed the button that would buzz her in, then
turned back to Sirius.

“What’s going on?” Sirius asked, confused.

Remus shook his head, not sure how to tell him who was about to arrive on their doorstep. Instead,
he just said: “You might want to get dressed.”

Chapter End Notes

I considered having Walburga’s portrait be uncovered when they got there because it’s
a distinct possibility that the Order put up the curtains to hide her, but given that the
curtains are described as “moth-eaten,” it seems like they might’ve been there all
along, and maybe Sirius’ mother just wanted her portrait covered with velvet curtains
*for the drama.*

So, yeah, I know this chapter was a lot. I hope I did the Kreacher/Sirius interaction
justice to express their complicated relationship and how it all shook out in the end.
Also, I hope this was clear, but I had Kreacher say the line about the rat because I
wanted to express that, yeah, Sirius’ family did know that when he went to Azkaban
that he wasn’t actually a Death Eater and he was framed. I’ve seen a lot of speculation
about whether Walburga was proud of Sirius or thought he’d really gone over to
Voldemort, and aside from the fact that I just deeply deeply hate that idea, I think it’s
way more likely that she knew the truth because multiple family connections were
Death Eaters or Death Eater-adjacent.
 1995: Things Lost and Found
Chapter Notes

cw: discussions of past abuse/trauma (similar to the last chapter)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Sirius was still pulling his shirt over his head when he heard the knock on the door outside, quiet
but managing to ring through the flat nevertheless. His heart started to beat faster, impossibly, as he
was already half freaking out. Remus hadn’t told him who it was, had seemed almost hesitant to
get the words out, but the look on his face had been enough to tell Sirius that he ought to be
nervous.

Sirius didn’t wait to hear the door open before racing back out into the sitting room, knowing as he
did so that his hair would be a mess and there was definitely a frazzled look on his face, but he
couldn’t bring himself to care. He didn’t know what to expect, but there was a combination of
nerves and excitement coursing through his veins.

When he caught a glimpse of the two people standing in the doorway of the flat, however, Sirius
stopped dead in his tracks. One of them was taller than the other, bright pink hair catching Sirius’
eye first as they stood protectively in front of the other. Still, his gaze quickly fell on the second of
the two, the woman with medium brown hair who was looking nervous but who had her big grey
eyes fixed intently on Remus all the same, as he stood in the doorway, greeting them. For a
moment, she didn’t notice Sirius’ presence, though the person beside her did, their gaze flicking
past Remus to fix on him.

Then, almost in slow motion, Andromeda’s gaze flicked up, and the two pairs of grey eyes met.
Her mouth fell slightly open, and her grey eyes filled with sudden tears. Sirius just stared back,
shock filling him as he took in the sight of her. She looked older than when he’d last seen her, more
troubled, but still, she was here.

“Andy?” Sirius managed to choke out, his voice sounding small to his own ears.

Andromeda’s face broke into a smile, and then she was running past Remus, throwing her arms
wide even as tears slipped down her cheeks. Sirius caught her as she flew at him, wrapping her in
his arms and holding on tightly. At that moment, he felt that they were no more than kids, just
cousins reuniting after a long time apart, a long dark time where they’d had to endure more than
any kids should.

Andromeda’s breath came out sharp in Sirius’ ear as she gasped out a question: “Is it really you?”

“It’s me,” Sirius replied softly, not letting her go.

“And you were never really the spy?” Andromeda asked, head still buried in his shoulder.

Sirius felt tears fill his own eyes, and he gave a quick, small shake of his head into her shoulder. “I
wasn’t,” he confirmed.

Andromeda let out a tearful laugh and clung to him tighter. “I knew you couldn’t have done it,” she
said. “I knew you weren’t capable of it. Not you. Never you.”

Sirius let tears slide down his face into her sweater, let her hold him like a big sister, like she had so
many times before. She’d never believed it of him. Merlin, she’d never believed it of him. A knot
of tension in his chest he hadn’t known he’d been carrying loosened, and relief spread through him.

When they finally pulled back, Andromeda’s eyes didn’t leave Sirius’ face, scanning it like she
wanted to reassure herself that he was really there. He didn’t look away from her, either, a smile
that he thought might never fade making his cheeks hurt.

“How do we know it’s really him?” another voice came from the edge of the room, and Sirius
finally tore his gaze away from his cousin to take in her companion. As his gaze flitted over the
bright pink hair, heart-shaped face, and dark eyes, which were fixed on him suspiciously, Sirius
saw what he hadn’t the first time he’d looked at them.

“Nymphadora?” he asked in disbelief, his eyes wide as he stared at her.

The last time he’d seen Andromeda’s kid, she’d been eight. The person standing before him was
decidedly not a child, and Sirius made a quick mental calculation in his head that told him that she
must now be in her twenties. Her hair was spiky, her t-shirt was slightly ripped, and she wore a
thick belt that completed the rather punk look.

Nymphadora shifted uncomfortably under his gaze but didn’t look away, meeting his eyes with her
chin raised almost defiantly. Sirius smiled. He knew that look well.

“It’s Tonks,” she replied. “I like to be called Tonks, now.”

“Tonks,” Sirius said, giving her a tentative smile. “I’m Sirius.”

“That’s what you say,” Tonks replied, lifting her eyebrows as if to cast doubt on the assertion. “But
where’s the proof?”

Andromeda glanced at her daughter, then back to Sirius, looking thoughtful. He felt a moment of
panic, wondering if, after all of this, she’d leave.

Then, she simply asked: “Sirius, what book did I catch you with when you were eleven and I was
sent up to tell you to come down for dinner?”

Sirius scanned his memory, pressing back through the years, worried for a moment that he
wouldn’t be able to identify it. So many of the good memories were hazy these days. Surprisingly,
though, the answer drifted to the surface after only a moment, and Sirius smiled.

“The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe,” he replied, and Andromeda beamed.

She threw her daughter a smile and said: “It’s really him.”

Tonks looked a little mollified but continued to examine Sirius rather suspiciously. “How do we
know he’s telling the truth about not being a Death Eater, then?”

“You’ll have to forgive her, she’s an Auror,” Andromeda said to Sirius, but Sirius shook his head.

“It’s a fair question,” he said, directing his answer to Tonks. “I don’t know how much you know
—”

“Hestia told me some of it,” Tonks said, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest.
Sirius glanced at Remus, and he shrugged, obviously confused as well.

“Hestia?” Sirius echoed, glancing at Andromeda with a question in his eyes.

“She said you wanted to meet,” Andromeda replied, furrowing her brows.

Sirius smiled and shook his head. “I didn’t ask her to do that,” he said. “But I’m glad she did.”

He looked over at Tonks, still hovering by the wall, and then to Andromeda, who was looking at
him with a hesitant question in her eyes.

“Come sit down,” he told them. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

He did tell them everything, then. First, there was the story, which was long and winding and full
of detours when he had to go back to clarify a detail because you couldn’t understand it unless you
understood about the four boys and something that’d happened to them long ago. Before this
moment, Sirius hadn’t really understood how hard it’d been for Remus to tell the story, that night in
the Shrieking Shack, but he fully appreciated it now. Sirius told them things that he’d never
actually gotten around to telling Andromeda before then, too, things about James and Peter and
Remus.

Sirius hadn’t planned to tell Andromeda and Tonks about Remus being a werewolf, but Remus had
interjected that detail himself. Sirius had only paused for a second when Remus added it, sharing a
glance that said: Was that really a good idea? But Remus had just shrugged, and it was done, then.
Neither Tonks nor Andromeda batted an eye, anyway. They just let him continue.

After the story came the questions, of which there were many. Surprisingly, most came from
Andromeda at first, while Tonks just sat quietly and let her mother go on. Sirius sensed that she
was waiting for the gaps to present themselves to her once Andromeda was done with her questions
so that she could fill them with her own interrogation.

Sirius couldn’t help but study Tonks, his gaze flitting to her even as Andromeda asked him
question after question. Sirius wasn’t sure how he’d thought his niece would grow up, back when
she’d only been a kid, but he hadn’t really expected it to be like this. Still, he kind of admired it. In
Tonks, Sirius could see the little girl she’d been, but the upward, proud tilt of her chin reminded
him of Andromeda when she’d told her parents about Ted, and about being pregnant. It reminded
him of himself, a bit, too. And there was someone else…someone he didn’t like to think about
these days, but who he couldn’t get out of his mind whatever he did: Regulus. The unreadable look
in Tonks’ eyes as she studied him reminded him of his brother. Maybe that was why a part of him
didn’t trust her, and another part trusted her more than anything.

When both Andromeda and Tonks finished asking their questions, it was nearly noon. Tonks had
relaxed a bit, her posture becoming less rigid, and when she volunteered to pick up lunch from the
deli down the street, Sirius knew that she trusted him, or else she wouldn’t leave him alone with
her mother. Remus, after sharing a communicative glance with Sirius, stood up to help, too, giving
Sirius and Andromeda a few minutes alone together.

When the door shut behind Remus and Tonks, Andromeda reached out and took Sirius’ hands in
hers. She gave him a soft smile.

“How are you holding up?” she asked. “After everything, I would think that coming back to
everyday life would be jarring.”

Sirius shrugged, not expecting the question. He’d been bombarded by so many in the past weeks
from many different people, all about the past, not about the present. “I’m not sure,” he admitted.
“I—I suppose it’s difficult, sometimes. I wouldn’t say I’m back to everyday life, though. I’m
trapped inside, after all.”

Andromeda nodded, concern written all over her face. “Hestia said something in her letter about
you trying to turn the old family house into a headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix,” she said.
“Is that true?”

Sirius nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, it’s true.”

A wry smile split her face, and she shook her head. “You really went back there?” she asked,
disbelief in her voice. “After all this time?”

Sirius shrugged again. “It’s about the only thing I can do other than sit here, Andy,” he said, but
there was a pit in his stomach he couldn’t deny. “So yeah, I went back.”

“I suppose that’s why you were sorted into Gryffindor,” Andromeda said. “You’ll never get me
through those doors again, nor into my family’s house.”

Screams seemed to echo in the space between them, the memory of Andromeda’s last night in
Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place flashing before Sirius’ eyes. She hadn’t been there the night he
himself had left home, three and a half years later, but he’d told her about it afterward. She’d been
the only one who he’d told the whole story to, at first, because he’d known that she wouldn’t give
him a look of pity or shock. Maybe that was why Sirius admitted what he did then, in the silent
absence of Remus and Tonks.

“My mother has a portrait in the middle of the entrance hall, mad, screaming, and foaming at the
fucking mouth,” he said. “Every time I walk past it, even when the curtains are closed and she’s
quiet, I think about what she did to me. I thought about it for twelve years, locked up in Azkaban,
because she put me there. She taught me that no one could ever love me, and then I didn’t trust
Remus because I didn’t trust that he loved me, and I got my friends killed because of it. I got
locked up, and I think I might’ve deserved it, but really, it was all her fault, wasn’t it, for breaking
me like that?”

Andromeda looked at him with sad eyes for a moment, then gave his hands a squeeze. “I still
dream about the night I left sometimes, you know,” she said after a moment. “It’s been more than
twenty years, and I still dream about it. I still hear my father in the back of my mind sometimes,
telling me—well…” She looked away, closing her eyes for a brief second before turning back to
Sirius. “I’m not sure it’s something that’ll go away, but we grow around it. We found ways to
survive it, you and I, or else we wouldn’t be here.”

“I just wish the ways I found to survive weren’t so shit,” Sirius replied bitterly, looking down and
shaking his head. “I wish they hadn’t fucked up my whole life.”

Andromeda’s grip tightened on his hands, forcing him to look at her full in the face. “You had a
normal reaction to an abnormal situation,” she told him firmly, holding his gaze. “You have to stop
blaming yourself for things you had no control over. You didn’t deserve any of it. Not when you
were a kid, and not when they locked you up for something that you didn’t do. None of it, Sirius.”

Sirius stared at her for a moment, not releasing her hands, mulling her words over in his mind.
Finally, he spoke again. “What do I do now, then?” he asked. “It can’t happen again, Andy.”

Andromeda nodded and gave him a smile. “It won’t,” she said, the certainty in her voice seeming a
bit overconfident to him. “You’re aware of it now. Now, you can push back against it.”
“How?” Sirius asked, feeling a little hopeless at the prospect.

Andromeda smiled and glanced toward the door. “Trust him, Sirius,” she said. “Trust the people
that care about you. And whenever that little voice of doubt comes in, shove it down as hard as you
can. You can always come to me, too. I can listen and help.”

Sirius thought for a moment about her words and was surprised by the smile that came onto his
face. He nodded and gave Andromeda’s hands a squeeze. “I missed you,” he said.

Andromeda smiled. “I missed you so much, Sirius,” she said. “You don’t even know.”

When Andromeda and Tonks left that day, it was with promises to write. Tonks had even said she
might come over another time to hear about the Order, something Sirius credited Remus’ influence
for. Tonks still seemed cautious around Sirius, which Sirius understood, even if it hurt a little.
They’d been friends when she’d been a kid, Tonks always excited when Sirius arrived at the house
for a visit, but he supposed it must’ve been hard for her, all those years of growing up hearing
awful things about him.

Not thirty minutes after they left, another surprise arrived on their doorstep, one in the shape of a
tall wizard with a long beard and star-spangled robes. Remus didn’t say anything before stepping
aside, and Sirius noticed the rather stiff expression on his face as the headmaster entered the flat,
giving an apology for not letting them know of his visit ahead of time. Remus had told Sirius that
he and Dumbledore hadn’t left their last interaction on the best terms, Sirius remembered.

“Sirius,” Dumbledore acknowledged him as he entered, giving him a small smile and peering over
his half-moon glasses to fix him with his signature light blue stare. “You look well.”

Sirius was sure he hadn’t mistaken the hint of amusement in the headmaster’s voice, but he
decided not to examine that at the moment.

“As do you, Headmaster,” Sirius returned, giving a polite nod. “Enjoying your summer vacation so
far?”

Somehow, he felt like a student again, trading banter with the headmaster after being sent to his
office for drawing mustaches onto all the portraits in the Slytherin common room at two in the
morning.

“Very much so,” Dumbledore returned with a smile, clearly not about to mention the heavy-handed
slander he was currently enduring at the hands of the Ministry of Magic and the Daily Prophet. “I
am here to discuss the case of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Your last correspondence led
me to believe that it would soon be ready for inhabitants?”

Sirius glanced at Remus, who gave him a sheepish shrug. They’d debated when they’d start
bringing Order members to the house, and it’d been Sirius who’d been hesitant, but clearly, Remus
had decided spending hours after hours on their own there cleaning for any more time wouldn’t
make Sirius feel more ready. He was right, but Sirius still wished he’d consulted him before
writing the headmaster.

“There’s still a lot to be done there,” Sirius admitted. “But we’ve cleared out some things from the
kitchen and most of the bedrooms, and have a pretty good idea of what the most dangerous areas
are.”

“I am sure the Weasleys will be happy to aid in the rest of the work when they arrive,”
Dumbledore said with a smile. “As will the other Order members, when they have time. I would
like to see the house before I decide, however. Is now an opportune moment?”

Sirius’ eyes widened, and Remus looked surprised, too, at the sudden request, but after a second of
silent communication through glances, Sirius nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “We can go there now.”

“Excellent,” Dumbledore said, giving a smile. “Shall I meet the two of you there? You usually
arrive at the house using apparition, correct?”

“Yes, that’s the best way,” Remus confirmed, speaking for the first time. “You can’t apparate
inside the house, though. Just to the doorstep.”

“Ah,” Dumbledore said, turning to Remus and nodding, his eyes thoughtful. “And do either of you
use any sort of disguise?”

“No,” Sirius answered. “We make sure to get inside quickly, and there’s never anyone on the
street.”

Dumbledore nodded but didn’t say anything, his gaze, which had flicked to Sirius, still
contemplative. “Lead on, then,” he said finally, and Sirius looked toward Remus, the other man
nodding.

When they landed on the doorstep of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place together a minute later,
Sirius immediately reached for the doorknob. It clicked open without a key, recognizing him as the
heir to the place, and Sirius stepped into the hallway beyond. A moment later, they heard a small
pop on the doorstep behind them, and Dumbledore appeared, upright and regal-looking, glancing
around at the street as if he was seeing the sights. He smiled slightly, giving an apparently satisfied
nod, then stepped inside, inclining his head gratefully to Remus, who’d been holding the door for
him.

When the door shut behind them, Sirius flicked his wand, and the lights along the hallway
flickered on, illuminating the gloomy house. He didn’t speak as he stepped forward again, leading
the way toward the entrance hall, head held high. He tried not to let the dread he always felt when
approaching his mother’s portrait overcome him, Andromeda’s words echoing in his head, and
turned when they reached the open space, opening his arms to gesture to the house as he looked at
Dumbledore.

“This is it,” he said, watching the headmaster as he looked around the hall carefully, his gaze
trailing over the portraits on the walls and the closed doors lining the space.

His gaze fell on the large one of Sirius’ mother, covered with her velvet curtain. They hadn’t been
able to get the portrait down, or Sirius would’ve ripped it to shreds by then, and he suspected that
his mother had put a permanent sticking charm to the back of it before her death. He was grateful
for the curtains that hid her from view, however.

“So it is,” Dumbledore said, his voice full of a detached sort of academic interest.

“I can show you around,” Sirius said, heading first toward the door that led to the kitchens. “But
we have to be pretty quiet in the hall. If we don’t—” he looked around at the portraits darkly, “—
we might wake someone.”

Dumbledore nodded, his gaze lingering on the covered portrait of Sirius’ mother for a moment
longer before following Sirius toward the kitchen. After a moment, Sirius heard Remus’ soft
footsteps fall into step behind them as they descended the stairs, and somehow the sound was
comforting. At least Sirius wouldn’t have to face this alone.

As Sirius led Dumbledore through the rooms of the house, first the kitchen, then the library,
drawing room, and up to the bedrooms, he rambled his way through an explanation about what
they’d found in each room, what they’d managed to clean out, and what still remained to be done.
They didn’t encounter Kreacher until they reached the third floor, finding him hiding in the closet
of the master bedroom. He scurried away with a few insults under his breath, Dumbledore looking
after him with interest.

“Your family’s house-elf, I presume?” he asked when the creaking of the stairs in Kreacher’s wake
had subsided.

Sirius nodded. “That’s Kreacher,” he explained. “He’s been with my family for as long as I’ve been
alive. He’s always been nasty, but I don’t think he’ll be any trouble for the Order.”

“If he is to live alongside the Order here, we must be sure to treat him with kindness and respect,”
Dumbledore said, looking thoughtfully toward the door. “If we do not make a friend of him, he
may prove himself an enemy, and that could be dangerous to us all.”

Sirius failed to see how a house-elf who hadn’t left the house in years and wouldn’t leave unless
instructed to could be a danger, but he nodded dully before heading to the door, not wanting to
spend any more time in this room than he had to. He’d already shared his plan to keep Buckbeak
here with Dumbledore, which the headmaster seemed to agree with. Sirius wasn’t sure he could
stomach anyone sleeping in this room, or whether it would be entirely advisable to. They’d cleaned
it of any obvious dark magic, and cleared a nest of spiders out from under the bed, but still, there
was a malevolent air to the place. Also, Kreacher might well throw a fit if he was ousted from this
room, too.

When they reached the fourth-floor landing, Sirius hesitated, not sure he wanted to show
Dumbledore the contents of either his own room or Regulus’. His was private, after all, and he’d
already decided that he wanted Regulus’ to be off-limits. That door would remain locked, both
physically and in his mind, with any luck.

Dumbledore didn’t seem to feel the need to go into either room, though he did examine the sign on
the door of Regulus’ room. “Your younger brother, yes?” he asked, his voice neutral in a way that
made Sirius’ skin prickle.

Sirius didn’t reply, just nodded, though the headmaster was turned away and couldn’t see it, and
when Dumbledore looked back to him with eyebrows raised, it was Remus who responded, a harsh
note in his voice.

“Sirius doesn’t want anyone in that room.”

Dumbledore nodded, his gaze flickering to Remus for a moment then to Sirius, looking thoughtful.
“A strange case,” he said. “No one ever discovered what happened to him, did they?”

Sirius shook his head once, his voice catching in his throat, and saw Remus’ gaze harden further as
he glared at the headmaster. Dumbledore looked pensive for another moment, ignoring Remus’
glare as he looked back toward the room, his fingers brushing over the words etched there. Sirius
had a sudden urge to step forward and wrench his hand away, anger rushing up inside of him
alongside a deep ache he tried to ignore.

When Dumbledore looked back at him, his gaze softened. He stepped away from the door and put
his hand on Sirius’ shoulder, making him flinch slightly.
“I quite understand,” he said softly, then moved past Sirius toward the staircase once more,
descending toward the entrance hall again.

Sirius’ gaze locked with Remus’ for a moment, and he saw molten anger in the other man’s blue
eyes, which faded slightly to concern as he looked back at Sirius. Sirius shook his head and turned
to follow Dumbledore down the stairs, thinking that neither Dumbledore nor Remus could really
know what he was feeling about his brother, nor did he particularly want to share.

It was a peculiar thing, Sirius thought, to know that his feelings surrounding Regulus weren’t
entirely clear. It’d been Remus who’d made him realize how much Azkaban had distorted his
perception of some memories, erasing others completely. He knew, therefore, that something had
shifted in him in all those cold years in a cell, and part of that shift had involved Regulus, after
years of seeing the shadowy face of his brother in his hallucinations. Still, even though he knew
that it’d been altered, Sirius didn’t know how to get back what he’d once felt for his brother. He
didn’t even know if he wanted to.

He thought Remus did. He saw it sometimes in the other man’s eyes as he looked at Sirius, the
confusion of realizing how Sirius had changed. It was prominent in the few moments when Sirius
spoke of his brother, or when he spoke of Peter, the traitor. Sometimes, they even fought about it.

Remus had yelled at Sirius one day: “Sometimes I feel like I don’t even recognize you!” The words
had felt like a twisted knife in his gut, but Sirius also knew it was true. Sometimes he didn’t
recognize himself either. Still, Andromeda had recognized him, and in other moments, Sirius knew,
Remus still did see him, and found the man he’d once loved inside. Sirius wondered if Remus
could still love him, now. He hadn’t said it, but Sirius found he didn’t mind. He wasn’t sure he
even wanted to hear it anymore.

When Sirius reached the entrance hall again, stopping before Dumbledore, who was standing there
and looking around once more, the headmaster waited a few moments before speaking. Remus
stopped at Sirius’ side, and for a moment, Sirius wanted to take his hand. He didn’t.

“I believe that you were right, Remus,” Dumbledore said, his gaze fixed on the man next to him. “I
would say that we are ready for the Order to start holding meetings here.”

Sirius felt himself deflate slightly, feeling a combination of relief and dread wash over him. He was
both glad that the house had been given Dumbledore’s stamp of approval and terrified of what
would come next.

“What now, then?” Remus asked, echoing Sirius’ thoughts.

“I have decided that although there are already many protections on the house, I wish to put some
further precautions in place,” Dumbledore said. “Especially given the fact that at least a few of
Voldemort’s most loyal Death Eaters know the location. I have decided to cast the Fidelius Charm
upon the house.”

Sirius flinched, and he sensed Remus tense beside him, too.

Dumbledore looked from one to the other calmly. “I will be the Secret Keeper this time,” he said,
and Sirius was almost positive he heard a rebuke in his words.

He wanted to curl in on himself but settled for looking away from Dumbledore’s piercing gaze.
Unfortunately, his gaze landed instead on the portrait of his mother. Fuck.

“Molly and Arthur Weasley will come to London in a few days’ time to move in,” Dumbledore
continued. “They wish to be of help, and having them at Headquarters will be the best way to do
this. Other Order members will come and go. We have managed to recruit a few new members to
our ranks, in addition to the old crowd. Kingsley Shacklebolt has agreed to be our eyes and ears in
the Auror office. The two eldest Weasley siblings, Bill and Charlie, have also agreed to be
members. Bill will inform us of the goings-on at Gringotts, while Charlie will work abroad to
spread the word of Voldemort’s return to foreign wizards.”

Sirius finally tore his eyes away from his mother’s portrait and looked back to Dumbledore.
“Good,” he said. “The more, the better.”

Dumbledore’s gaze moved to Sirius and pierced him for a long moment before he spoke. “The
additional protection around the house makes headquarters an optimal safehouse,” he continued.
“And I believe that you, Sirius, should remain here with the Order for as long as it takes to clear
your name officially.”

Sirius felt something freeze inside of him, and he stared at Dumbledore. It was like his heart had
fallen through a trapdoor, straight into his stomach. There was a ringing in his ears. It was Remus
who spoke first.

“What?” he demanded from beside Sirius, stepping forward so that he was slightly in front of
Sirius.

Dumbledore looked at him finally, dragging his gaze away from Sirius.

“It is the safest option, Remus,” he said, his voice calm. “The trips between your flat and this house
are risky at best, suicidal at worst, especially if you take no precautions to hide your identities. We
would be foolish to think that Death Eaters are not observing our movements even now, and since
your old friend Mr. Pettigrew is at Voldemort’s side, he will know the exact location of the flat. It
would be easy for a Death Eater such as Lucius Malfoy to send in a tip-off to the Aurors that Sirius
may be hiding there.”

“Then we’ll find another safehouse for him to stay in!” Remus nearly shouted, and Sirius was
terrified for a moment that the curtains surrounding his mother’s portrait would open and she’d
join in. They stayed silent, however. Remus pointed back at Sirius, who was still staring at
Dumbledore silently.

“He can’t come back and live here! He can’t be trapped here again,” he said, and his voice was
lower, now, but full of urgency. “You don’t know what that will do to him.”

Sirius wished he could pull up a retort, wished he could tell them that he’d be fine, but he felt
small.

Dumbledore didn’t look at him but kept his gaze fixed on Remus. “He will be alive,” he said. “He
will be out of prison. Would you like to see what the Dementor’s Kiss would do to him instead, I
wonder, Remus?”

The words made Remus jerk back slightly as though Dumbledore had slapped him, and his hands
clenched into fists. He looked like he’d like nothing better than to break Dumbledore’s nose for the
second time in the old man’s life, but he didn’t move, just glared. Sirius didn’t speak, either, not
sure he could find the words. When the silence stretched too long, Dumbledore seemed to take it as
agreement.

“It is the safest thing for everyone,” he said, finality ringing through his voice.
Sirius was reminded, then, of what Remus had said about the way Dumbledore had told him that
he couldn’t see Harry after Lily and James had died. Sirius had been angry for a while, hating the
idea that Remus had just left Harry alone. Remus had tried to explain, telling him about the years
he’d searched, and the tone Dumbledore had used, that held no room for objections. Perhaps this
was it, and Sirius could feel it, now, too, the look on the old headmaster’s face bringing the picture
of a door being slammed in his face to mind, shutting out the light of hope at the end of a dark
tunnel.

There was a long silence, and Sirius knew that Remus was waiting for him to object, too, but he
couldn’t bring himself to. Then, Dumbledore spoke again.

“There is something else I must bring to your attention,” Dumbledore said. “I am sure that you
have not forgotten about the prophecy Sybill Trelawney made some fifteen years ago, regarding
our very own Mr. Potter.”

Sirius felt as if he was being pulled out of icy water, and he blinked once as he came back to
himself, gaze focused as he stared at Dumbledore. The prophecy…of course he hadn’t forgotten.
It’d been the thing of his nightmares for too long to ever leave his head. Azkaban had only made it
clearer, unlike many other memories.

“What about it?” Sirius asked, his voice slightly croaky. He cleared his throat hastily.

Dumbledore sighed. “As Lily and James no doubt told you, only a portion of the original prophecy
was overheard by the Death Eater in question when Sybill made it that night in 1980,” he
explained. “That has always been much to our advantage. Unfortunately, Voldemort has clearly
realized in his time since rising again that his incomplete knowledge of the contents of the
prophecy has been to his detriment. He has made a move toward capturing it.”

“Capturing it?” Remus asked, and when Sirius glanced over to him, he found that he was giving
Dumbledore a suspicious look, his brows furrowed. “How would he get to it? It’s a prophecy.”

“The Ministry of Magic keeps physical records of all prophecies in the Department of Mysteries,”
Dumbledore explained. “There lies a record of Sybill’s prophecy, and there, Voldemort may be
able to gain access to it.”

“You told the Ministry of Magic about the prophecy?” Remus hissed, anger pulsing in his voice.

Dumbledore shook his head. “The Department of Mysteries has their own ways of detecting
prophecies made,” he said. “I would have kept it from them if I could have.”

“So if Voldemort gets into the Ministry and hears what the prophecy says,” Sirius said, his mind
going into overdrive as he imagined the possibilities. “What do you think will happen?”

Dumbledore hesitated but shook his head. “I do not know,” he said slowly. “But I am convinced
that while the prospect of the unknown prophecy looms over Voldemort, he is afraid to act,
knowing that there is a piece of the puzzle that he does not have. Once he seizes it, his true plans
begin. Thus, we must exert every effort to keep it from him for as long as possible.”

“What about Harry?” Sirius spoke into the silence that fell after Dumbledore’s pronouncement.
“Will he come here, too? What will we tell him?”

Dumbledore shook his head. “He will remain at his aunt and uncle’s for as long as possible,”
Dumbledore said. “And remain ignorant of his destiny for as long as possible, too. I believe that it
would be unwise to lay another burden on his shoulders, not in addition to all the ones he already
 has.”

Sirius opened his mouth to argue, but Remus beat him to it. “He deserves to know what he’s in
for,” Remus said. “We can’t treat him like a kid and then expect him to save us. It isn’t right.”

Dumbledore shook his head, the same look of finality settling onto his face. “He should not know
more than he needs to,” he said.

“Lily and James would’ve wanted him to know,” Sirius broke in. He looked at Dumbledore when
he said it, but his eyes drifted to meet Remus’ for a moment before flicking back. As he looked
back into Dumbledore’s eyes, he thought how much warmer Remus’ blue ones were. “They
would’ve wanted him to be prepared. They wouldn’t have wanted him to be in the dark.”

There was an echo there, he thought, of a conversation he himself had had with Hagrid so many
years ago, and of another, a conversation he’d not been party to, which Remus had had with
Dumbledore. What Lily and James had wanted…over the course of many years that had proved to
be inconsequential to the headmaster. It didn’t mean that Sirius wouldn’t keep fighting for it,
though.

Dumbledore shook his head again. “No more than he needs to know, for now,” he said again.

He waited patiently in the entrance hall for a moment, waiting for them to protest once more, but
both Remus and Sirius had fallen into a silence that was thick with their frustration, unsure of how
to continue. When they didn’t speak, Dumbledore gave them both a nod.

“I will meet you and the Weasley family here in two days’ time, Sirius,” he said. “We will cast the
Fidelius Charm shortly after. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

With that, he swept out of the house. Sirius looked around, thinking of how much the words had
felt like “enjoy your last two days of freedom.” He thought of Secret Keepers and prophecies, and
how the past seemed to be repeating itself. He thought of how James and Lily had been trapped in
their house, hiding from Voldemort, before everything had fallen apart. That had been to keep them
safe, too, but they’d still died in the end. Perhaps the same would happen to him. Perhaps that was
how this was all supposed to end.

Chapter End Notes

Guess which line was a literal quote from my therapist :P

Also, I’m super relieved because recruitment for the study I’m working on has just
ended and now we’re just doing follow-up, which is less work and also just way less
mentally draining for me than having to cold-call people. I’m gonna have more time,
so I’m tentatively planning on finishing editing and posting this fic by the end of the
month!! The last chapter will likely be up on Halloween, because how could I not take
advantage of the saddest day of the Marauders fandom? So yeah :) Posting schedule
will be likely a little erratic from now on, so count on Sunday chapters but maybe also
others during the week as well.
 1995: Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix
Chapter Notes

cw: descriptions of past abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Sirius was quiet after the meeting with Dumbledore and during the following two days as they
packed up the few belongings Remus had acquired for him, ready to move back to the house on
Grimmauld Place. When he’d noticed Remus packing some of his own things, too, and asked what
Remus was doing, Remus had simply replied:

“What, did you think I was going to stay here and leave you in that haunted fucking house with just
the Weasleys?” He’d scoffed at the prospect, and the smile that came across Sirius’ face at that
moment was enough to brighten even the gloomiest of London days.

Remus had gotten used to it, the way their lives had settled like that: bright sun through many
clouds, Sirius’ moments of anger and depression interspersed with brilliant joy. Remus was
familiar with the pattern, of course, from the years after the first war. Now, with all the reminders,
he, too, had to wrangle his own moods. Sirius took them in stride, dealing with the bouts of Remus’
anger as they came, knowing when to talk him through the periods of cold silence he’d fall into
and when to leave him be, and, of course, savoring each moment of sunlight together.

Remus had almost forgotten how it’d been when he and Sirius had been together in the good years,
and even before that, when they’d only been friends and yet known each other like no one else
could. He’d almost forgotten how it felt to be known like that, even as they both had to navigate
relearning each other’s new scars, both physical and emotional. He’d almost forgotten that he
could let go with Sirius, who’d always been able to hold Remus’ anger when no one else could,
and how, in return, Remus had been able to see the cracks in Sirius when everyone else would look
away.

Remus felt, too, how they loved each other more carefully this time. He knew it was because it was
the second time around and because they both had felt the loneliness that resulted from them letting
it break the first time. Remus could feel the way that Sirius loved him on purpose, the way he
hesitated sometimes, even when he was angry, mulling over his words before saying them. He
could feel the way Sirius took all the trust he could possibly give and shoved it toward Remus,
could feel that it was almost too much for Sirius to handle, but how he did it anyway. He loved
Sirius for it, but he still wasn’t sure how to say it again.

Neither he nor Sirius had asked what they were in the days since they’d kissed for the first time,
since they’d slept together and started to sleep in the same bed, started to smile at one another in a
familiar way, and make up from fights with kisses. Somehow, after all those years, Remus felt
strange calling Sirius his “boyfriend” again. It felt too trivial of a word for what they were to each
other, and nearly always had been.

Remus remembered, so many years before, Dorcas telling him about how Marlene had called the
two of them “permanent,” because if they couldn’t be married, maybe they could be that. Perhaps
that was more accurate to what he and Sirius were to each other, too. Perhaps “permanent” was a
word you could use for two people who’d spent fourteen years apart but who’d loved one another
the whole time, and who’d learned how to fall back in love with the new versions of each other
after all those years like it was breathing.

The move to Grimmauld Place was anything but quiet, which Remus was glad of. The Weasleys
were a rowdy bunch, which he had, in theory, remembered from the months he’d spent teaching
five of the seven children, but in practice, his memory seemed to have toned down the chaos. Still,
Sirius seemed to enjoy it.

“Don’t go into the drawing room if you don’t want to be swarmed by doxies and cursed by about a
dozen dark objects,” he told the twins as he gave them directions for the bedroom they’d share
upstairs. “Oh, and you should stay out of the master bedroom, too. Buckbeak is in there, and I
don’t trust you two to approach with caution.”

The twins pulled identical expressions of offense, but Sirius just laughed. He’d clearly gotten the
measure of them as soon as they’d greeted him, eager grins on both of their faces as they demanded
to know how he’d escaped from Azkaban, absolutely unperturbed by his reputation as a notorious
mass murderer. Remus, who had a sneaking suspicion that it was the twins who’d found and given
Harry the Marauder’s Map, thought that the twins had only just started hero-worshiping Sirius, and
once he told them more stories, there would surely be a Sirius Black fan club in the works at
Hogwarts. Remus found that he liked the thought.

“Ginny, the bedroom on the first floor should be enough space for you and Hermione once she gets
here in a few days,” Molly said, ushering her daughter toward the stairs with a rather harried look
on her face. “Ron, you can take the bedroom on the second floor, and Harry will join you when he
arrives!”

“Is there any word from Dumbledore for when he’s coming?” Ron demanded, glancing first at his
parents, then at Sirius and Remus.

Molly glanced at the two men, too, her expression wary, which Remus interpreted to mean that
she’d already shut down this question multiple times from her kids.

“We still don’t know,” Remus answered, not looking at Sirius, who he could practically feel
frowning beside him.

Ron grunted and made a face, but began to walk up the stairs without further comment. Molly
turned to Remus and Sirius once Ron was out of earshot, opening her mouth as if to say something,
but she was interrupted by a loud yell from the floor above, which seemed to have come from
either Fred or George.

“Mum, are you and dad really taking the bedroom next to ours?” the disgruntled teenager yelled
down the stairs. “Why?”

Mrs. Weasley snapped back to attention, the worried look on her face replaced by a stern one. “So I
can keep an eye on you two!” she bellowed back, and Remus heard two loud groans emanating
from the floor above.

Sirius smirked and leaned over to mutter in Remus’ ear: “Good thing I already silenced all the
portraits, eh?”

There was a note of true amusement in his voice, unmarred for once by being in the old house, and
Remus smiled. Perhaps filling this place with the Order and all the children would really help heal
something inside of Sirius, rather than cracking it open even more.
Some days, it really did feel like it was helping. Some days there was light and sound and even the
occasional outburst from Sirius’ mother’s painting wouldn’t tarnish his mood too much. It helped
that there were jokes, helped that they kept busy, helped that there were Order meetings to attend
and old faces alongside new ones to greet.

Hestia had stepped into the house for their first Order meeting the following day after they’d
moved in, looking around curiously in that way that she did, which made it feel like her gaze was
seeing through the walls of the house into something deeper. When she looked back at Remus and
Sirius, she gave them a smile and immediately asked to speak to Remus alone.

Without much preamble, she’d shoved the box she’d been carrying into his hands, explained what
she’d done to get the potions inside, and reiterated the instructions on how to take them before the
full moon—not that he needed the reminder, really. Refusing to hear any of his protests, she’d
fixed him with a determined look and a quick smile before rejoining the rest of the group, leaving
Remus to clutch at the box and try to collect himself before following her.

When he’d told Sirius what Hestia had given him that night, Sirius’ eyes had gleamed with a sort of
fierce approval, and he’d grabbed Remus into a tight hug, steadying him as Remus shook slightly,
tremors going through his body as if the accumulated tension that’d built up in him at the prospect
of facing the next full moon was being released. The next time they’d seen Hestia, Sirius had
hugged her for a moment longer than usual, and when he’d released her, Hestia’s eyes had been
shining with unshed tears.

Tonks had come to her first Order meeting a week after they’d all moved in, too, and Remus saw
how the young wizard’s presence brightened Sirius’ mood. After dinner was finished and everyone
else had cleared away that night, Tonks, Sirius, and Remus lingered in the kitchen, and it was
Sirius who broke out the firewhiskey, pouring them all a glass each.

“It’s strange to think about my mum coming to this place when she was a kid,” Tonks said as she
sipped her drink, looking around the kitchen. “She never really told many stories about her
childhood, especially when I was younger.”

“Trust me, that was for your own good,” Sirius replied, but his tone wasn’t dark, and he gave
Tonks a genuine smile across the table. “Honestly, I’m surprised Andy even let you step foot in
this house.”

Tonks let out a snort of laughter. “She didn’t want me to, that’s for sure,” she said. “But I’m an
adult now, and I make my own rules.”

Sirius nodded, examining her over his glass with a thoughtful look in his eyes. Remus thought it
was interesting, observing the exchange as he sipped his drink—the similarity in their two
demeanors, the way their postures would mirror one another, the faces they made as they spoke. It
was like a puzzle.

“Do you get along with your mum?” Sirius asked after a moment.

Tonks made a brief, thoughtful face, and shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah, for the most part,” she
replied honestly. “It’s complicated. I love her, but sometimes she doesn’t really…get me. She tries
to understand, but we’re just different.”

“How so?” Sirius asked, his tone curious and gaze non-judgemental as he observed Tonks.

Tonks paused for a brief moment, her gaze flitting from him to Remus and back again.
“It’s like, she fought for her whole life for certain things,” she said. “Things that I believe in, too,
don’t get me wrong. But I have other things to fight for, and so I’m gonna make different decisions
than she would’ve made when she was a kid. So…I respect where she’s coming from, and she
respects where I’m coming from, but we don’t always see eye to eye.”

“What about your dad?” Sirius asked.

Tonks shrugged again. “It’s similar,” she said, then she made a face. “I love them both, but I just
wish they got it more. I mean…” She sighed, looked down into her drink, then braced her
shoulders, looking back up at them, eyes flitting from Remus to Sirius quickly again. “My parents
still call me Dora sometimes. And, like, I get it, to them I’m still their daughter and that’s been my
nickname since I was a baby, but I’m just not that person anymore. I don’t feel like Dora. I feel like
Tonks.”

Remus nodded, not at all surprised by what he thought the young wizard was trying to say. He’d
suspected it the first time he’d met Tonks, especially after walking to the restaurant on the corner
and seeing how they walked and talked, how it reminded him so much of other people he’d met
like El, people who didn’t fit neatly into the boxes they’d been shoved into at birth. People who
perhaps didn’t fit neatly into any boxes at all.

Remus glanced over at Sirius, wondering if he’d get it, or if he’d have to explain it to him. He’d
been in Azkaban for a twelve-year stretch that had encompassed a lot of social change, after all.
Still, Sirius didn’t look confused, rather, he had a look of something like pride on his face as he
gazed at Tonks.

“It’s hard to explain things like that to people who’ve never felt anything like it, even if you know
they love you and would support you,” Sirius said. “I think I know some of what that’s like.”

Tonks looked back at him, and Remus thought that this might be the first time he saw her
completely unguarded as the two made eye contact—not a glare or a fleeting glance. There was a
soft smile playing across Tonks’ lips as he looked away again, eyes darting absentmindedly around
the kitchen once more.

“You know, when I was fifteen and I told my mum that I liked more than just blokes, she told me
about you,” Tonks said. “I was a bit pissed at the time for having my coming out conversation
derailed by a talk about her criminal cousin, but what I was really angry about, I think, was that she
offered up the one relative who could understand, but I still couldn’t talk to you about it.”

Sirius grinned, and Remus was surprised but grateful for the fact that even Tonks referring to him
as a criminal hadn’t seemed to faze him. “Well, I know I’m about seven years late, but if you ever
wanted to talk to me about something you don’t think your mum would understand, I’m around
now,” he said.

Tonks laughed and clinked his glass with Sirius’. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said with a wink.

The conversation that followed was one Remus could’ve never expected to have while sitting in
the basement kitchen of Sirius’ family home but enjoyed immensely all the same, as Tonks began
to talk about how he saw himself, how she liked to be referred, and went on a rant about gender
and sexuality politics.

Sirius’ eyes were bright and he drank in every word, interjecting a comment once in a while about
how things had been in the 70s and 80s and comparing notes on terms, communities, and
underground this and that. Remus didn’t know as much, but he joined in sometimes, too, with what
he’d picked up from El and Alaric and the events and protests he’d attended over the past fourteen
years. It was strange how they all came from different places: Tonks with her involvement in all
the youth circles of the time and the up-and-coming discussions, Sirius with his knowledge of only
the old guard and all the history he’d been a part of in the 70s and early 80s, and Remus, who was
clearly less involved than either Sirius had been or Tonks was currently, but who’d been vaguely
present for all of it.

It was a conversation that made Remus think of nights spent sitting around different kitchen tables,
on couches, and on the floor with drinks in their hands, when Marlene and Sirius would get so
excited they’d practically be shouting and when Dorcas and Remus had realized it would be best to
put silencing charms on their flats. Remus still remembered Halloween in 1980, when they’d all
been sloshed in Sirius and Remus’ flat, but James had still turned the music off to hear Dorcas
better as she spent an hour explaining theories of lesbianism and identity politics to him. He
remembered how Sirius had laid his head in Remus’ lap halfway through, closing his eyes but still
listening with a small smile on his face as Remus played with his hair.

When Tonks finally announced that she should head out that night, after both Tonks and Sirius
seemed to have talked themselves into exhaustion, Sirius and Remus walked her up the stairs to the
ground floor.

“I’m glad you came,” Sirius said to Tonks as they stopped in the hallway, giving him a warm
smile.

“I’m glad I did, too,” Tonks replied, a goofy grin splitting her face.

His hair was tinged brown at the roots as if being slightly tipsy had distracted him from keeping it
bubble-gum pink. She gave a crooked smile that was all for Sirius. “Us blood traitors have got to
stick together, haven’t we?”

Sirius seemed to freeze for a moment, his eyes fixed on Tonks’ face with an expression that Remus
thought looked like a mix of fondness and heartbreak. Tonks seemed to catch it, too, and she
furrowed her brows in confusion.

“What?”

Sirius shook his head slowly, and a small smile spread across his face. “Nothing,” he replied at
length. “You just reminded me of someone.”

He stepped forward tentatively and opened his arms. Tonks smiled, though he still looked a bit
bemused, and stepped into Sirius’ arms to accept the gesture. Remus smiled as he watched,
knowing that a small explosion must be going off inside of Sirius as they hugged, which he was no
doubt trying to contain, and thinking about how Mrs. Black’s portrait was only a few yards away,
and how, despite her better efforts, something in this family was being healed at this very moment.

“Night, Sirius, Remus,” Tonks said as he departed, giving them a goofy salute before walking back
down the hallway toward the door. She nearly knocked over the umbrella stand on her way out but
managed to catch it just in time, giving them one last sheepish wave before shutting the door
carefully behind her.

When the door was closed, Sirius turned to Remus and kissed him, pressing himself into the other
man’s body as if he wanted to weld them together, his arms wrapping tightly around Remus’ waist.
Remus made a surprised noise against his mouth but kissed back, smiling slightly and thinking
again of the portrait only a few yards away. When Sirius pulled back, he was beaming, and it felt
like he could forget where he was for the first time as he led Remus up to their room on the top
floor.
 ....

Unfortunately, the moments of happiness became fewer and further between the longer they stayed
there. The hope that had surged inside of Remus at the reclamation of the house dwindled after a
while, as the longer they were there, the more it seemed to poison Sirius. Perhaps it was Harry’s
arrival, too, that’d soured Sirius toward it.

He’d told Remus that night, after dinner and greeting his godson with smiles and obvious relief,
that he hated that this was the place he had to show his godson. Sirius told Remus of what he’d
imagined when he’d offered Harry a new home more than a year ago, how he’d thought they might
find somewhere in the countryside, wherever Harry wanted to go, somewhere that would be safe
away from the war and the bustling city and anyone who knew them. Sirius hadn’t imagined
bringing Harry to the house he’d almost died in so many times when he’d been a kid.

Then there were the taunts from Snape, the fights with Molly Weasley, and the other Order
members trickling in and out and speaking of the duties they were busy with, which Remus knew
grated on Sirius more and more as time went on and he couldn’t do anything. On top of it all, there
was the fateful day that Remus knew had been coming, when Dumbledore asked him to go
underground more often to seek out information from the werewolves.

“There are rumors that Fenrir Greyback has re-emerged as a player for Voldemort,” the headmaster
had announced in one Order meeting, his eyes finding Remus’, further down the table. “We may
need more insight into his actions once again.”

It hadn’t been enough, then, just to be in contact with Alaric, El, and Miranda, getting sparse
information from them about what had been going on with the wolves. It hadn’t been enough to be
a regular Order member, rather than their secret weapon. Remus had always known that it wouldn’t
be, not for Dumbledore, and he didn’t resist, but there was still resentment there. Resentment for
the last time, resentment for those long years he’d spent alone without any help, forgotten by the
headmaster. Resentment that he couldn’t just stay with Sirius, because the longer he was gone, the
more discouraged and downtrodden Sirius looked when he came back. The longer he was gone, the
longer Sirius had to dwell on the memories of this place that he hated.

One night, Remus returned and looked all over the house for Sirius until he found him sitting on
the floor in the study, staring emptily into the space in front of him, one hand wrapped loosely
around the neck of a bottle of what Remus knew to be very expensive firewhiskey, given the label.

“This is where my father hid all of his good stuff,” Sirius said when his gaze had focused on
Remus in the doorway, laughing hollowly. “Lo and behold, some of it’s still here.”

Remus didn’t speak, he just closed the door and moved to sit beside Sirius on the ground, taking
the bottle away from him wordlessly. Sirius didn’t protest, just closed his eyes and leaned on
Remus’ shoulder.

“On my eleventh birthday,” Sirius said, his words slurring. “Me and Reg found his stash and got
completely drunk. Of course, we were kids, so it didn’t take much. I’d never thrown up so much in
my life.”

Remus waited, as he knew there was another part in this story, the point where it would all go bad.
He hadn’t heard Sirius call his younger brother by his nickname since he’d been back.

“When my dad caught us—” Sirius continued, and Remus braced himself inwardly for what would
come next. After many years, he still had a difficult time hearing about Sirius’ childhood. The
horror of it never truly went away. “—it was the angriest I’d ever seen him…at that age, anyway. I
told him it was all my idea, but he made Regulus watch him belt me, to teach him a lesson, too, I
suppose.”

“That’s horrible,” Remus said into the silence.

Sirius shrugged, eyes still closed.

“I can’t escape them, Moony,” he said after a moment, his voice sounding tired more than anything
else. “I can’t escape the memories here. I just want to escape them.”

Sirius fell asleep on Remus’ shoulder, and as Remus carried him up to bed, he wished with all his
heart that they’d never come here. He’d been wrong to hope. The wound had been too deep after
all.

....

One day in September, when the house was much quieter than it’d been over the summer, the kids
all off to Hogwarts again, Remus found Sirius in the drawing room. He was standing by the open
window, staring out at the backs of the surrounding houses, none of which could see them at all.
There was a lit cigarette in his hand, and he drew from it, looking almost thoughtfully out the
window.

The sight of Sirius smoking tugged something deep inside of Remus, and he felt nostalgic, not for
the first time, for the memory of Sirius doing just that in their dormitory in Hogwarts. He
remembered the feelings that’d begun to blossom within him back then, unrecognized for what
they’d been, when Remus would walk in on Sirius smoking, and Sirius would throw Remus a smirk
as he put out his cigarette quickly, vanishing it with a swish of his wand.

Back in the present, Remus moved into the room, closing the door softly behind him. “Those will
kill you just as much as any war,” he said, though he couldn’t conceal the smile on his face.

When Sirius looked around at him, he didn’t smile, just raised his eyebrows at Remus as if to ask a
feeble, amused question, one which Remus answered when he strode across the room to him,
taking the cigarette from Sirius’ fingers and bringing it to his own lips. As he took a drag, he
could’ve sworn that the corners of Sirius’ lips tugged up slightly.

“I suppose they’re more likely to kill me than this war,” Sirius replied after a moment, when Remus
had given him back his cigarette and he’d taken another drag before extinguishing it on the
windowsill and tossing it out of sight. “Given how much I’m actually able to do in all of this,
now.”

“So is that what you want, then?” Remus asked, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from
Sirius’ eyes unnecessarily.

It was a new thing for them, the fact that Remus felt confident enough to reach out to him across
the void between them in this moment. When they’d been teenagers, and even in their early
twenties, he might not have dared. No one had been able to brave the closed-off look Sirius would
sometimes get, but now, Remus could. He could reach out and touch his skin, say gently, with
word or action: come back to me. Sometimes Sirius would, and sometimes he wouldn’t. But Remus
had learned that despite all the evidence to the contrary, he really didn’t want to be alone in these
moments.

Sirius shrugged, looking back at Remus, his eyes full of sudden vulnerability. Then he looked over
at the Black family tree on the wall, and his expression hardened again. “You know, sometimes I
think it’s crazy that I grew up here. This old fucking house, with all the dust and the dark and
cursed objects. Not even a fucking garden, and we barely ever left it. I always felt trapped here,
until I was nine and I started to leave on my own. Now, I can’t even sneak out.”

“I’m sorry,” Remus said, and he really meant it. He hated that Sirius was here, hated that Remus
could leave and Sirius couldn’t, hated that he even agreed with Dumbledore that it was the safest
thing for him. Still, he didn’t think it was the right thing. There was more than one kind of safety.

When Remus reached out this time, he pulled Sirius toward him, lacing his fingers with Sirius’ and
using the grip to gently reel him in, pressing a kiss to his forehead as Sirius let out a sigh and rested
one hand on Remus’ waist.

“I don’t know how to fucking cope, Moony,” he said into Remus’ collarbone as they stood
together, his breath warm against Remus’ skin. “I thought this was a good idea, offering this place
as headquarters, but now I’m trapped here again. I left this place, never thought I’d come back, and
I forgot what it felt like. I feel like a fucking child again, Remus, with no control over anything in
my goddamn life. I can’t handle being stuck in here alone with only Kreacher to insult me and my
mother’s screaming portrait and my own fucking thoughts.”

Remus pulled him into a hug, and Sirius buried his face into Remus’ shoulder, his arms wrapping
around Remus’ waist and clasping behind his back. Remus rested his chin on the top of Sirius’
head, quite at a loss for words. He didn’t have a solution. He didn’t have an answer. He hated that
he couldn’t make it better.

A bad idea popped into Remus’ head, as bad ideas often had when he’d attended Hogwarts and
planned pranks with the rest of the Marauders. He knew it was ill-advised, dangerous even, but he
couldn’t just hold Sirius in his arms and watch him break over and over again without doing
anything.

“Hey, Padfoot,” he said tentatively. “What if I snuck you out?”

....

Remus knew that if anyone found out about this they’d both be in for the scolding of their lives.
Molly would gripe at him for weeks, he imagined, saying things like you were supposed to be the
responsible one and now what kind of example does this set for the children? Remus had heard that
all before, though, back in his years at Hogwarts when he’d been the prefect and everyone had
thought that his friends were corrupting him. No one would ever believe the things that had really
been his idea, and they still wouldn’t, even now. Still, Remus didn’t care, not when Sirius needed
it. It reminded him of the weeks before term ended in their first five years at Hogwarts, when Sirius
would get restless before having to return to this house and his family, and all of the boys would
suggest more prank ideas than ever before, all just hoping to distract him.

This time, though, it wasn’t a prank, it was an escape, and it wasn’t planned, it was just done. That
afternoon, Sirius and Remus slipped out of the empty house, disillusionment charms placed on both
of them. On the doorstep, hand in hand, they apparated to the top of a familiar hill in the West
Country, a place that felt as if it belonged in a long-ago dream. Concealed in the trees, Remus took
the disillusionment charms off of both of them, and Sirius transformed into the shaggy, black dog.
Then, they walked together down the hill toward the house.

Even from a distance, Remus could see that the place was abandoned. The back garden was
overgrown—so different from when it’d been carefully tended to by Mr. Potter—but there were
still flowers growing there, dots of blue forget-me-nots visible through the weeds. Clearly, no one
new had moved in since its last inhabitants had moved away and died, which Remus had expected,
 and was grateful for even, but it did make a twinge of sorrow go through his chest as he
remembered the home it’d once been. Laughter in the sitting room, loud music reverberating off
the walls from an upstairs bedroom, the delicious smell of spices wafting from the kitchen…these
were all gone, now, and the house stood empty and silent before them.

Remus turned the handle of the backdoor and found it locked. He pulled out his wand and
muttered a quick Alohomora under his breath, and the door swung open under his touch. Sirius, at
his side, seemed to hold back, so it was Remus who stepped into the house first, looking around,
the Animagus on his heels, tail low and nose sniffing the air.

Everything in the Potter house was now covered in a layer of dust: the furniture, the countertops,
the cabinets, and the floorboards. Remus and Sirius walked through the house room by room,
examining their old haunts with the air of two wary explorers wondering if they’d find riches,
mortal danger, or both at the end of the journey. Upstairs, Remus found James’ room looking just
as he remembered it: Quidditch posters on the wall, bedspread intact, neat as ever. If not for the
dust, it would look like the teenage version of James—who’d moved out of this house after
Hogwarts—was about to return.

Sirius’ room was much the same, as well: frozen in time since they’d last left it, posters of artists
like Queen, Bowie, and The Clash on his walls. Sirius’ tail gave a soft wag as they entered it,
padding through the room to jump up on the bed, settling himself down onto it as if the dust didn’t
bother him, and laying his chin down onto his paws.

Remus moved around the room as Sirius stayed on the bed, trailing his fingers across the books
Sirius had left behind here on his bookshelf. There were other things, too, wedged between the
volumes—letters tucked between pages. Remus recognized his own handwriting on a lot of them,
letters he’d sent to Sirius during the summer or winter holidays when he’d stayed here. There were
a few postcards from Marlene, too, and Dorcas, sending news of their trips out of the country. They
were like dried flowers pressed between pages: beautiful remnants of another time.

“We should tell Harry about this house,” Remus said when he thought he’d uncovered enough
secrets in this room, turning toward Sirius, where he still lay on the bed. His eyes were open, and
he looked up at Remus when he spoke, blinking silently at him.

“It belongs to him, after all,” Remus added.

Sirius blinked slowly at him again, and Remus took this to mean assent.

When Sirius and Remus grew tired of the memories of the house, they left its confines for
Blacksmith Hill again. Remus locked the back door magically behind them, a feeble gesture given
that it was clear that no one had tried to break in in fifteen years. Then, Sirius took off up the hill,
bounding gleefully toward the trees he’d once spent the long days of summers in the 70s lounging
in, his best friend by his side. Remus knew by the wag of his tail that though the house had made
them both somewhat sad, it was in a fond way—the kind of melancholy that soothed even as it
ached. It’d been a good idea, after all, to come back to this place.

Remus followed at a more leisurely pace up the hill, watching the black form ahead of him dart
around the trees. When the pond came into view, Remus saw Sirius stop by its side, then, after a
moment’s hesitation, leap in. By the time Remus had reached its bank, Sirius was in the middle,
paddling around, still in his dog form. Remus simply smiled and sat down on the ground to wait.

Chapter End Notes

Don’t get me wrong, I love Andromeda, but I think it makes sense for Tonks to have a
complicated relationship with her, based on how Tonks talks about their mother in the
books. Generational gaps can make things difficult, even when there is genuine love
and care there.

I was so at a loss for what to name this chapter, consider the alternate title: “healing
generational trauma and other gay stuff”
 1995-1996: Sign of the Times
Chapter Notes

cw: major character death (not pictured, but we all know what happens)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Sirius had forgotten how cold the house on Grimmauld Place was in the winter. He’d forgotten the
way that the stale air inside grew more and more frigid as the fall months descended upon them,
becoming almost ice-cold by the time they reached Christmas. Warming spells were effective in
the short term, but the house held its chill close to its heart, refusing to stay warm for long while
the sun wasn’t beating down on the windows, as it did in the summer.

The long days that Sirius spent there alone only made the house feel colder, when there was no one
but Kreacher to keep him company, all of the Order members at their jobs or on guard duty, and
Remus off with the werewolves. That was why—though it filled Sirius with guilt to admit it—he
was overjoyed by the news that he wouldn’t have to spend Christmas alone after all.

Having the Weasleys and Harry for Christmas warmed the house like nothing else. Suddenly, it
wasn’t a holiday where he’d be left alone to remember the last one he’d spent there, decades
before. Instead, Sirius spent his time decorating the old house, draping tinsel over the banister and
placing Santa Claus hats onto the elf heads on the wall. When Remus arrived late at night on
Christmas Eve, looked around bemusedly at the decorations as he unwound the scarf from his neck
and smiled at Sirius, Sirius felt as if it was a gift that made up for fifteen years of missed
Christmases.

After gifts had been opened, and Christmas lunch had been eaten, the Weasleys and Harry left to
visit Arthur in the hospital once again, and Sirius and Remus were left alone. When Remus turned
to Sirius and gave him a mischievous smile, Sirius couldn’t help but laugh.

“Do you know what that look reminds me of?” Sirius asked, leaning back in his chair and beaming
at Remus.

Remus shook his head, blue eyes alight with affection as he looked back at Sirius. “What?”

“Back in school, when a Slytherin ran their mouth or something, and you wouldn’t react, but
afterward you’d turn to us with this wicked smile on your face and we’d all know that they were
going to regret it later.” Sirius grinned and raised his hand to cup Remus’ cheek, then brushed a
thumb along his lower lip. “I always looked forward to that smile.”

Remus caught his hand and used it to tug Sirius forward, pressing a short kiss to his lips before
standing and pulling Sirius upwards with him. “Where do you want to go this time?” he asked.

They didn’t have to say it anymore when they left to explore some hill in the middle of nowhere, or
else a place they’d been before, long forgotten by the rest of the world, like the Potter house on
Blacksmith Hill. It was a constant now, that whenever Remus would return, be it for a day or for a
week, at some point, they’d sneak off. No one had yet discovered their excursions, though Sirius
thought that Tonks might have a shrewd idea, but he trusted that she wouldn’t share it with anyone.
This time, they apparated to the middle of the Cornish countryside, to a cold, deserted moor that
Sirius had been to only once, fifteen years before. For once, when they landed in the middle of the
field and took off the disillusionment charms, Sirius didn’t turn into the shaggy black dog, but
stood still and looked out over the moor for a moment, savoring the sight of the empty expanse of
land.

“I told you there’d be no one here, not on Christmas,” Remus said, giving Sirius a smile.

Sirius breathed in the fresh air, which smelled like grass and water and a bit of peat, and grinned.
“I’m glad you were right,” he said. “I’m tired of hiding.”

With that, he linked his hand with Remus’ and they began to walk down the path toward their
destination. It took several minutes for them to reach the lake, and neither spoke, just walked in
comfortable silence. Sirius didn’t mind the silence out here. It wasn’t the same oppressive kind that
existed in Grimmauld Place, as this wasn’t really silence. There were signs of life all around, and
they made Sirius feel alive, too. It was strange how that worked.

When they made it to the pool, Sirius felt both over and underwhelmed. It was smaller than he’d
imagined when he’d been a child, yet at the same time, it was somehow magnificent, just in its
presence.

“You’re really starstruck over this, aren’t you?” Remus asked, grinning and glancing over at Sirius
as they stood at the water’s edge. “You going to take a swim to see if you can find Excalibur, or
—?”

“Shove off,” Sirius said, though he was smiling, and looked out at the expanse of blue,
contemplating it. “This was a big deal for me as a kid.”

“I know,” Remus said, an affectionate note in his voice. “That’s why we’re out here, remember?”

Sirius felt a drop of warmth expand through his chest, but didn’t look at Remus, continuing to stare
out across the lake. It’d been a project of sorts after Remus had gone through Sirius’ book
collection—many of them pilfered from the local Muggle library—and found some of the rare
books that had been stolen from Sirius’ own library in the Black house: books about Arthur and
Merlin, and the Knights of the Round Table.

“You really loved this stuff, didn’t you?” Remus had asked him one day, holding up one of the
tomes.

Sirius had smiled back sheepishly. “It was a nice dream,” he’d replied. “Good and evil, quests, and
bravery always saving the day. I always imagined that I was Arthur when I wanted to be brave, so I
could stand up to them.”

That same day, Remus had taken Sirius to Tintagel Castle in Cornwall. They’d gone to other places
after that, like Slaughter Bridge, and the town that still made Sirius think of the night when
everything had fallen apart. They visited Muggle locations and wizard ones, all associated with the
legend, and all felt like little pieces of joy to Sirius, like meeting old friends.

“Say the name of the last place again, Moony?” Sirius asked, turning his head to look at Remus’
profile and grinning mischievously. Remus rolled his eyes, turning to meet Sirius’ gaze with an
unimpressed expression on his face.

“Do I have to?”

“Yeah, I want to hear it,” Sirius replied, grinning. “It’s Christmas, come on.”
“You’re so annoying,” Remus said, but he sighed, tilting his head up to the sky before saying:
“Dinas Emrys.”

“Again.”

“Jesus Christ—”

“Pleaseeee?” Sirius begged, giving Remus a wide-eyed look.

Remus’ cheeks flushed slightly at the look, and he snorted out a laugh. “Dinas Emrys,” he
repeated slowly and loudly, holding Sirius’ gaze as he said it.

Sirius groaned and smiled wide, and Remus laughed.

“You’re ridiculous, Padfoot,” he said, but there was a distinct note of affection in his voice. “If I
spoke French or something, I’d understand, but Welsh? Really?”

“What can I say? Competence gets me going, Moons,” Sirius said, giving him a wink that made
Remus burst into laughter, a sound which was whipped away from them by the wind into the
silence of the moor, as if it was shushing them. “I like hearing you speak your native tongue.”

“I barely know Welsh, you do realize this, right?” Remus asked through his laughter.

“You have an accent,” Sirius said, shrugging. “That’s good enough for me.”

Remus smiled and shook his head, eyes twinkling as his laughter died, but when he turned his gaze
back out toward Dozmary Pool, he wrapped his arm around Sirius’ waist and pulled him closer.

“Is it all you imagined it to be?” he asked softly after a moment.

Sirius smiled and nodded. “Lived up to my wildest dreams, I think,” he replied.

He wasn’t sure he was joking any longer, and he smiled when Remus pulled him in front of him,
wrapping both his arms around Sirius and pressing him back into his chest. Sirius smiled and
closed his eyes, inhaling the familiar scent of wool and bergamot that hadn’t changed after all these
years. It was moments like this that made him feel like they were going to be alright. He told
Remus so, and Remus hummed assent, Sirius hearing the smile in his voice as he did so.

When they got back to Grimmauld Place hours later, they only had a few minutes to try to act
normal before the Weasleys trooped in after them. Sirius was eternally grateful for the fact that
he’d already taken off his coat and boots when Molly gave him and Remus a rather suspicious look
for standing in the entrance hall.

Before she could say anything, however, Sirius’ attention was diverted from her onto Harry, who
had a troubled look in his green eyes, and then to the other teenagers surrounding him, who all
wore expressions ranging from guilty to sad. Sirius furrowed his brow, and when Harry’s gaze fell
on him, he seemed to understand that Sirius was seeing right through the façade they’d all put on
for Molly’s benefit. Harry looked away from him again quickly, and Sirius was reminded
irrefutably of Lily, because the expression on his face, and the way that he was biting his lip,
tugged at a memory, though Sirius wasn’t able to identify which specific one it was anymore.

Still, Harry didn’t say anything as Molly told him and Remus of their visit to St. Mungo’s, and
Sirius vowed to try to speak to him later. Later arrived that evening in the drawing room, where the
large Christmas tree blocked the Black family tree from view, much to Sirius’ relief. Everyone
trickled out to go to bed, but Harry lingered still, sipping his glass of butterbeer slowly as he sat on
the sofa they’d conjured there to make the space more homey, looking troubled once more.

After Hermione had left, bidding them all goodnight with a yawn, Remus glanced over at Harry,
eyes slightly narrowed, then to Sirius. There was a moment of unspoken communication between
them, then he rose to his feet.

“I should get off to bed, too,” he said, and Harry looked up. Remus gave him a smile as he headed
toward the door. “Happy Christmas, Harry.”

“Happy Christmas,” Harry repeated back, clearly making a valiant effort to hitch a smile onto his
face as Remus departed.

Remus glanced over his shoulder as he shut the door behind him and caught Sirius’ eye, giving
him a small smile before leaving. Sirius was grateful. It was still unclear to him why Harry had
latched onto him more than Remus, given that they’d both known his parents. Perhaps it was just
the label “godfather” that made it different, and because Remus had been Harry’s professor, and
still felt like it in some ways. Sirius also wondered, though he’d never say it to Remus, whether
Remus was still a bit afraid of being close to Harry, like he’d do it wrong, or because he still felt
guilty whenever he saw him for not being able to fulfill Lily and James’ wishes to help raise him
when he’d been a child. Sirius understood that. Still, he didn’t mind being the one that Harry
looked to for guidance, not in the slightest.

“You alright?” Sirius asked after a few moments of silence passed between them.

Harry glanced over to where Sirius was sitting in the armchair across the coffee table and shrugged
noncommittally.

“Did something happen at the hospital?” Sirius guessed.

Harry hesitated, then shrugged again. “Sort of,” he admitted at length. He glanced up at Sirius, his
gaze suddenly adopting a rather desperate gleam to it. “Did you know the Longbottoms?”

Sirius’ eyebrows shot up, and he took a moment to process the question. It was the last thing he’d
expected Harry to ask, and his mind searched for a reason Harry would’ve thought of the topic
now.

“I knew them,” he confirmed, taking a sip of Butterbeer for something to do, the familiar taste
calming his nerves slightly. “Not very well, I will say, but I worked with them in the Order. Your
parents knew them better than I did.”

“They did?” Harry asked, taken aback, and Sirius remembered with another jolt how little Harry
knew about James and Lily. How painful it was to have to tell him these things when he should’ve
known them all along.

Sirius nodded slowly. “Your father and Frank went on a lot of Order missions together,” he
explained. “Lily and Alice corresponded for a while when you were a baby, too. We knew each
other from Hogwarts before that. Alice and Frank were a year older than us, Alice in Hufflepuff
and Frank in Gryffindor, and they were Head Boy and Girl in the year before your parents were.”

“Oh,” Harry said, nodding and looking back at his still partially full glass for a moment before
glancing back up at Sirius. “We saw them—” He broke off, taking a deep breath. “—at St.
Mungo’s. We were just going up to get tea, but we ended up in this ward, and…” He trailed off,
making a strange gesture with his hand that Sirius couldn’t interpret.

Sirius swallowed. It hadn’t been until he’d gotten out of Azkaban that he’d found out about Alice
and Frank’s fate. It’d been a delayed blow, along with the news about Caradoc Dearborn and
Mary’s long silence from them. They were names on that list: the list of people lost but not lost.
There, but out of reach. Sirius hadn’t liked to think about them in St. Mungo’s, presumably
spending the rest of their lives there, and what they’d be like. He didn’t know what to say to Harry
to make it better.

“It was horrible what happened to them,” Sirius said softly.

He thought of Bellatrix, then, whose name was covered by the Christmas tree in the corner, still a
proud member of the House of Black. Suddenly, it was choking him, the knowledge that this house
was complicit in all of it. Did that make him complicit, too?

“How did you—” Harry began to ask, then broke off, looking hesitant for a moment before starting
again. “How did you cope with it all during the first war? I mean, people getting killed and tortured
left and right, and well…you must’ve known some of them, right?”

Harry was looking at him again with that look of desperation in his eyes, and Sirius let out a long
breath as if it would loosen the tightness in his chest, though it didn’t. He knew that this wasn’t just
a throwaway question, knew that he needed to at least try to give Harry a good answer because
Harry needed something to hold onto. Still, he suddenly wished that Remus hadn’t left, that Sirius
could drag him back in there and hope that he could give a more encouraging answer than Sirius
could.

“There are things that keep you going,” Sirius said after letting out a deep, shaky breath. “It’s
different for everyone, but for most of us, it was remembering what we were fighting for, and who
we were fighting for.”

“Us?” Harry inquired, gazing at Sirius with a question in his eyes, a curiosity that was again more
desperation than anything else, and Sirius remembered that last night of the summer—the picture
that Moody had shown Harry.

Sirius had wanted to throttle Mad-Eye for showing it to him, for the way that he’d no doubt told
Harry about all those people, people who’d been lost, and people who were so much more than
what their deaths had been. Still, Sirius hadn’t had the bravery back then to talk to Harry about it.
The look on Harry’s face told him that it’d been haunting him, however.

“The Order back then was a mixed group of older wizards who’d been Dumbledore’s allies for a
long time, and people just out of Hogwarts, like your parents and I,” Sirius explained, his stomach
sinking at the prospect of telling this story, though he resolved himself to do so. “Of the younger
ones, all ten of the Gryffindors in my year joined the Order after we graduated. To different
degrees, I was close with all of them.”

“Who were they?” Harry asked eagerly, though, from the look on his face, Sirius knew that Harry
was aware that this wouldn’t be a pleasant story.

Sirius drained the rest of his butterbeer and put it aside before beginning to list off names, counting
each on his fingers. “Me, James, Lily,” he said first, striking down the first three. “Peter and
Remus, of course.” Two more fingers down, and though Sirius had prevented himself from
twitching at Peter’s name, he saw the flash of anger that crossed Harry’s face as he said it.
“Emmeline Vance and Hestia Jones, you’ve also met already.”

Harry nodded, though he looked a little awed at the conclusion he must be coming to, that the two
women had known his parents, and had indeed spent seven years sharing a dormitory with his
mother.
Sirius had to take a deep breath to list the last of them off. “Dorcas Meadowes and Marlene
McKinnon,” he said heavily, striking another two fingers down, and for a moment, he hesitated,
wondering if he had to say that they were dead, but from the stillness that suddenly came over
Harry’s face, he knew that it was unnecessary.

“And Mary Macdonald.” He put his last finger down, thinking of the girl who was missing but not
missing, lost but not lost.

Harry’s expression flashed confusion at the first unfamiliar name for a brief moment before
clearing.

“My mum and dad were friends with them all, too?” Harry asked, seeming to contemplate the list
of names for a second.

Sirius nodded, giving him a small, sad smile. “James, Dorcas, and Marlene all knew each other
from when they were kids, even before Hogwarts,” he said. “Bonds unbreakable, those three.
Sometimes I still can’t believe I managed to nudge my way into their group.”

Sirius smiled wider now, more genuinely, as he remembered the summers he’d spent at the
Potters’ house with James and the two girls, playing Quidditch and swimming in the pond. He
shook himself back to the present to continue his explanation.

“Dorcas and your mum had been good friends since their first year at Hogwarts, even when the rest
of us still thought Lily was a bit of a stick in the mud,” Sirius said, and Harry actually smiled at
that, letting out a slight snort of laughter at the comment. Sirius smiled at his reaction.

“Lily and Marlene clashed a bit early on, but they made up in later years and worked together a lot
for the Order,” he said. “Really, Lily was friends with all of us, especially later on, but it was Mary
who she was closest with, besides your dad, of course. In their last few years of school, it was like
it was never one without the other.”

Sirius smiled reminiscently, deciding to leave out the lead-up to it, as well as all the conflict with
Snape. He guessed that Harry didn’t know that his most-hated Potions Master had been friends
with his mum when they’d been kids, and he wasn’t about to be the one to break that news. He was
sure that Dumbledore wouldn’t be overpleased with him if he did.

Harry nodded, his smile slipping slightly, looking thoughtful. He looked up at Sirius, expression
hesitant, and Sirius thought he knew the question that was forming in Harry’s mind before he
voiced it.

“Where’s Mary now?” he asked. After a moment’s pause, his expression darkened, and he added:
“Is she dead?”

Sirius shook his head. “No, she’s not,” he replied carefully. He shook his head again, glancing over
toward the Christmas tree and the window, then looked back at Harry. “She cut ties with everyone
after the war, after—after your parents died. From what I heard later, she was too—” He cleared
his throat before continuing. “It was too hard for her, after losing so much.”

He didn’t know how to say that it wasn’t just Lily she’d lost, not just Marlene and Dorcas, or any
of the rest who’d died. He didn’t know how to explain to Harry that it’d been him, too, that they’d
all lost. He didn’t know how to explain the feeling that’d ripped into Sirius when he’d had to watch
Hagrid take Harry away that night, just after losing James and Lily. He didn’t know how to explain
to Harry the way that Remus had searched for him for years, the fact that a big part of the reason
he’d accepted the job at Hogwarts was to know Harry. He didn’t know how to explain the image
Remus had put so vividly in Sirius’ mind when he’d asked about what happened to Mary the first
time: the image of her sobbing and clutching at Remus’ shirt as she’d said again and again that
she’d promised Lily to take care of Harry, and how she couldn’t, and how that was what had
broken her.

Harry couldn’t ever understand—and perhaps it was better that he didn’t know, really—how much
he’d meant to all of them. He didn’t know the family he’d lost, not just Lily and James, but the
extended one who’d all been his aunts and uncles honorarily, if not his godparents. He didn’t know
how much it hurt Sirius to have to tell him about them, because while Sirius knew that Harry
couldn’t possibly remember Marlene bouncing him on her hip around the sitting room, or Dorcas
singing him a lullaby, it still hurt that he didn’t, nevertheless.

“You came back, though,” Harry said stubbornly, and there was a gleam in his eyes that reminded
Sirius of Lily again, a sort of righteous anger that Sirius had been well used to bringing out in her
himself. “You lost people and you still came back to the Order. So did Remus, and Hestia, and
Emmeline.”

Sirius shrugged. “I need the Order,” he explained. “I’m still wanted for murder, after all, so I need
Dumbledore’s protection. I have you to look after, too. Remus, Hestia, and Emmeline all chose to
come back for their own reasons, but don’t think that it was an easy decision for any of them.”

“Why?” Harry asked, his brow furrowing. “Because it’s dangerous?”

“Because it’s painful, Harry,” Sirius replied, shaking his head sadly. “It’s a reminder of everything
we lost last time. We…we were just kids back then. We believed in something bigger than us, but I
don’t think any of us really knew what we were getting into, and it tore our lives apart. I don’t
blame Mary for not wanting to do it again. I really don’t.”

Harry nodded, but there was a thoughtful, somewhat confused look on his face, and Sirius could
tell that he was still not convinced.

“I just wish—” Harry said after a moment, taking a deep breath and looking away. “If she knew my
mum best, well…I want to know more about her. Everyone tells me about my dad, but I feel like I
hardly know who my mum was at all.”

Sirius felt a surge of guilt go through him. “I’m sorry for that,” he said. “I sometimes forget how
little you know about your parents. I’m no Mary, of course, but I did know your mother well. I’m
happy to tell you anything you want to know about her, as I’m sure Remus, Emmeline, or Hestia
would be, too.”

Harry nodded, looking mollified. “I’d like to know about them all,” he added after a moment of
hesitation. “Marlene and Dorcas and the rest, too.”

Sirius couldn’t help but inhale a sharp breath at what Harry was asking, and why. That Harry
wanted to know about the friends he’d lost, and what they’d meant to him, and maybe it was
because Harry already knew what it was like to lose someone that way. Sirius hated it. He hated
that after everything they’d gone through back then, Harry still wasn’t safe. He was the furthest
thing from it.

“I can tell you about them,” Sirius replied after a moment, hating himself a little bit for not being
able to refuse. “Not now, though. Now, it’s time for bed.”

Harry nodded and stood, Sirius following suit. He walked with Harry up to the second floor and
they stopped on the landing. Sirius wanted to say something to reassure him, something to ease the
gnawing feeling in his stomach that it was all going to get worse, and that he had no control over it.
After a moment, he just pulled Harry into a hug, one which Harry returned gladly. Stepping back,
Sirius put a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“When all this is over, we’ll be a proper family,” he told Harry, the hundreds of similar promises
that’d been made long ago echoing in his ears as he did so, none of which had been kept. “You’ll
see.”

Harry nodded, and Sirius watched him disappear into his room, watched the door close behind him,
and stood there for a long moment before mounting the rest of the stairs to the fourth floor. When
he opened the door to his room, Remus was laying on the bed, a book in his hands, which he
lowered when he saw Sirius.

Sometimes, Sirius still marveled at how similar the room looked to when he’d been sixteen, and
yet how different he felt. Still, he knew that his sixteen-year-old self would’ve been absolutely
overjoyed at the idea of Remus waiting for him in his bed, whether he’d been ready to admit it to
himself back then or not. Remus looked up at Sirius now with a familiar concern on his face, and
when Sirius walked forward to slump headfirst onto the blankets, Remus’ hand went to stroke his
hair comfortingly.

“What did you talk to Harry about?” he asked softly, and Sirius shifted slightly so that he could
speak, though he didn’t look up at Remus, rather, he leaned his head on Remus’ chest, relaxing
against the familiar beat of his heart in Sirius’ ear.

“The kids somehow found their way into the ward where Alice and Frank live in St. Mungo’s
when they were there,” he explained.

Remus tensed under him, his hand stilling for a moment. “Oh,” he said after a pause, resuming his
stroking of Sirius’ hair. “How’d they do that?”

“No idea,” Sirius said, sighing. “But Harry was obviously torn up over it. He wanted to know
about them, and—and all the rest.”

Remus made a soft humming noise, which Sirius took to mean understanding. “And you told him
about them?” he asked gently.

Sirius gave a slight shrug against Remus. “As much as I could get out, for the time being,” he said.
“He wants to know more. I said I’d tell him later.”

Remus nodded. “I can help,” he offered. “You don’t have to face that conversation on your own.”

Sirius nodded. “Thank you,” he said, his voice a whisper. “I still can’t—talking about them is still
hard. Especially to Harry.”

Remus nodded, his chin brushing the top of Sirius’ head as he did so. “I know,” he said. “It is for
me, too.”

Sirius sighed out a long breath, and thought about all the memories that’d risen to the forefront of
his mind during the conversation with Harry: all the laughter shared, all the dreams quashed, all
the promises that’d been made and never been fulfilled. What was one more?

“Remus?” Sirius said, raising his head slightly to look up at him. Remus raised his eyebrows,
beckoning him on. “Will you promise me something?”

“Depends on what it is,” Remus replied after a moment of careful study of Sirius’ face, wearing an
apprehensive expression as if he knew exactly what was going through Sirius’ head at that moment
and didn’t want him to voice it aloud.

“Promise me that if something happens to me, you’ll look after Harry,” Sirius said, ready for
Remus’ reproach even as he spoke the words.

Remus looked at him for a long moment, then pulled him up enough so that he could press his lips
to Sirius’. Sirius felt everything in the kiss that hadn’t been spoken aloud between them, the words
that Sirius had only ever had the courage to whisper when he thought Remus couldn’t hear him,
these days, the words which Remus hadn’t spoken to him in more than fourteen years.

“Nothing is going to happen to you,” Remus said after he broke the kiss, tugging Sirius back to lay
across his chest again. As Sirius began to protest again, Remus interrupted him. “But I promise to
look after Harry if anything does. You know I would’ve without you asking, for you and for James
and Lily.”

Sirius closed his eyes, sighing out a long exhale of relief as he relaxed against Remus’ chest, the
sound of his heart beating steadily against his ribcage still comforting even though Remus’
heartbeat was a little fast at the moment. “I know,” he said, “I just needed to say it, anyway.”

Remus said nothing but resumed stroking Sirius’ hair, and after a long while, the feeling lulled
Sirius to sleep, though he was still in his day clothes, neither of them caring.

....

The conversation with Harry stuck in Sirius’ mind, carving its way through his dreams and waking
hours alike. They hadn’t had the chance to talk the following day, but Sirius spent a few hours on
Boxing Day nevertheless sorting through some of his old things, boxes that Remus had brought
from the flat but Sirius had never opened. Inside them were letters and photographs, as well as
keepsakes from those lost, too.

Many of them hurt to look at, like the letters he’d exchanged with Lily and James during the end of
the war, when he hadn’t been able to visit as often as he might have liked to. There was joy to be
found in the box, too, though, mostly from earlier memories—pictures from their time at Hogwarts,
a few retained letters from summers when he’d been apart from his friends.

At the bottom of one of the boxes, there was a t-shirt Sirius remembered as being Marlene’s, an
Aerosmith shirt she must’ve left at their flat when she’d been staying over one time and never
retrieved. When Sirius pressed it to his nose, he imagined that it still smelled like lemons, below
the must of the years.

Sirius became lost in the contents of his old life over the following days, and though he told himself
that he was just looking for things to make telling Harry the story easier, the longer it went that
Harry didn’t approach him, the more he had to admit to himself that that wasn’t his main
motivation. Sirius just wanted to be lost in it. Remus had gone off on another mission with the
wolves and the rest of the people in the house were getting ready to leave. What else was there to
do but wish for a better time, anyway?

Some of the contents were things that Sirius didn’t want to remember, though that didn’t stop him
from perusing them. He found things he hadn’t even realized he’d kept all those years ago. One
day, he found a set of letters he knew he’d written in the year after running away from home and
never sent, all to his younger brother. He read every one with a strange feeling that there was
something that didn’t fit right in his brain, the feeling of remembering something that you’d
convinced yourself was all a dream. He’d hated that day, hated the moment when he’d finished
reading all the letters, dug around more in the box, and found the piece of torn parchment that held
Regulus’ last apology. Perhaps Sirius hadn’t wanted those memories back, or the complexity of
hurt rather than hatred.

Pictures helped, even when they hurt. Sirius found many from over the years, more from after
Hogwarts when they’d spent hours at one of their flats taking midnight polaroids of each other
while either tipsy or just finding solace in one another. Sirius remembered how he’d loved those
days, with late-night conversations and the best music in the world playing over a stereo. Even
when it’d been bad, they’d found comfort in one another—a family despite everything.

He used the photographs to piece together the memories of who they’d all been before they’d
fallen apart. For some, it was easier, with less to reconcile. For others, there was more hurt. Peter,
smiling at a camera, head poking out over James’ shoulder as the latter gave him a piggyback ride.
Peter with a slight smile on his face as he watched the person behind the camera, natural and not
posed, the label on the back reading ‘October 1980’—just before he’d betrayed them all. Sirius
thought he understood for the first time why Remus had kept photos of them all around, now,
because in some ways this helped as much as it hurt.

Sirius studied photos of Mary, too, from the rare moments when her friends had gotten her out
from behind the camera and managed to take a shot of her. Some were of her smiling, her arm
around one of the girls or Remus. Some were of that intent, serious face she got whenever they
talked about the war, the fire that Sirius hadn’t recognized in her when they’d first met when
they’d been kids, but grew to know over time. Some pictures of her were harder to parse—
expressions that he either couldn’t read or couldn’t be sure he was reading right, with all the years
in between. Things he might never make sense of.

Harry’s question of why she’d left stuck in Sirius’ mind, too, as he examined her in these old
photos. Sirius thought he’d understood parts of her back then, and yet she was still a mystery
sometimes, so much hidden behind her brown eyes. Perhaps he’d never know the full story of
Mary Macdonald, never know the point at which the grief and pain had become too much,
overpowering her righteous anger and sending her running. Sirius wondered who she was now,
what her life was like, and whether it resembled anything like who she’d been. The war had killed
them all in one way or another.

The day that Sirius found the set of two-way mirrors, it felt like an answer to the problem he’d been
presented with by Snape. The anger that his words had sparked in Sirius was still nothing
compared to his worry about Harry, and how Snape would choose to take all his pent-up
resentment out on him. Handing Harry the mirror, wrapped and unassuming, as he watched his
godson leave again, offered little relief, however.

“I want you to use it if you need me, all right?” Sirius asked him, holding eye contact and trying to
communicate all he couldn’t say in front of Molly Weasley as he did so.

Something flickered in Harry’s eyes, then, a doubt that Sirius wished he could undo, but wasn’t
sure how to begin to do so. A worry that he couldn’t soothe.

“Okay,” Harry replied, stowing it away in his inner pocket.

Sirius watched it disappear, thinking of how he couldn’t tell Harry then, but wanted to share so
badly, that it’d once belonged to his father. Of all the conversations they’d shared over it. All the
jokes. They still hadn’t been able to find the time to talk about his parents again, but Sirius swore
to himself that he would. He wanted to keep this promise. He wanted to be a family for Harry. One
day soon, he thought that he might even tell Harry about him and Remus, because what was the
point of keeping it quiet anymore, really? What was the point in hiding?
 ....

Sirius should’ve known that he wouldn’t have time for any of that. He should’ve known that
whenever he made promises that suggested a future, they were always destined to go awry. He’d
promised himself at sixteen that he’d never set foot into this house again and it’d gotten him
anyway. He’d promised Lily and James to take care of their son, and he’d been trapped in prison
for twelve years, unable to fulfill that vow. Despite that fact, he was still trying.

“I’m going,” he said, and his voice held no room for argument as he looked stubbornly back at
Kingsley, who’d been the one to tell him of Harry’s departure from Hogwarts to the Ministry of
Magic.

They stood in the entrance hall of Grimmauld Place, Tonks leaning against the wall a couple of
feet away, polishing his wand, while Remus stood silently near the staircase. Kingsley merely
looked at him, his expression a little resigned and tired.

“Snape said to leave someone to tell Dumbledore what happened,” Kingsley replied, though there
was no conviction in his voice.

Sirius glanced around, and his gaze landed on Kreacher’s form skulking by the kitchen door,
observing the mayhem. “Kreacher,” he called, and the elf turned to give him a malevolent stare
before shuffling sulkily over to them.

“Yes, Master?” Kreacher asked, glaring up at Sirius.

“When Dumbledore arrives in half an hour, tell him where we’ve gone,” Sirius ordered, and
Kreacher gave a slight, creaky bow at his words.

“Yes, Master,” he said.

Sirius wasn’t sure if he was imagining the slight, wicked smirk that crossed the elf’s face for a
moment before he turned and walked away again, disappearing past the door to the kitchen and
down the stairs.

Sirius turned back to Kingsley, raising his eyebrows, and Kingsley sighed. “You’re still wanted,
Sirius,” he pointed out. “The Ministry has still authorized the Dementors to perform the Kiss on
you if they find you. You do remember that, don’t you?”

“I won’t be caught,” Sirius replied, a note of urgency making its way into his voice. There was
adrenaline sparking in his bloodstream, too, not only from the fear of Harry facing Death Eaters
and Voldemort alone but also at the prospect of a fight. He hadn’t had a proper one in so many
years. He wouldn’t be sitting here while the others did the dirty work for him.

Kingsley rolled his eyes but turned away, which Sirius took to mean that he wouldn’t stop him. A
ghost of a smile crossed Sirius’ lips before he remembered the urgency of the situation, and turned
to scan the rest of the party. Moody was still upstairs, apparently looking for something he needed
before they set off, but they should be able to leave in a few minutes, Sirius hoped. His gaze caught
on Remus, who was leaning against the banister and observing him, an unreadable look on his
face.

Sirius braced himself for another fight as he walked over to him. “Don’t start, alright?” he said,
crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m going, and you can’t stop me.”

Remus observed him for a moment, then shook his head. “I wouldn’t think to try,” he replied
evenly.
 Sirius’ eyebrows shot up, and he let his arms unfold and drop to his sides. “Oh,” he replied, feeling
a little dumb at his confrontational words now. “Why are you looking at me like that, then?”

Remus gazed back at him for a moment, the unreadable expression turning into a slight smile that
tugged at his lips. He lifted one shoulder, as if in a shrug.

“I love you,” he replied simply, his voice low but strong, still looking at Sirius as though he was a
marvel, blue eyes steady on his.

Sirius’ lips parted in shock at the words, as a thousand moments flashed before him, other times
that Remus had said the same thing to him so many years before, which all culminated in this one.
It was the first time Sirius was hearing it in almost fifteen years, and it made him want to cry, no
less because he knew why Remus was saying it. He recognized the expression on his face then, the
look that’d become familiar to him in the first war, on nights when Sirius would leave for a
mission. It was the sort of “I love you” that you had to give someone just in case it would be the
last chance you had to say it to them.

So instead of giving in to the tears that sprung into his eyes, Sirius reached out his hand and latched
onto the nape of Remus’ neck, pulling him forward into a kiss. And maybe there were Order
members standing around them, maybe Kingsley smirked and Tonks ducked her head with an
amused smile, but Sirius didn’t care.

He didn’t care that this felt like the most public kiss that the two had ever shared, given the fact
that there were about a dozen silent portraits lining the hall. He didn’t care that they were both
thirty-six now, standing in the middle of the entrance hall of his childhood home, and that his
mother’s silenced portrait hung only a few yards away. He didn’t care about any of it when he
pressed his lips to Remus’ and Remus’ lips parted slightly in surprise but formed a smile
nonetheless. They kissed chastely, but it felt like the best kiss Sirius had ever had. It only lasted a
moment, too, because Sirius heard the clunk of Moody’s wooden leg on the floor above, which
made him remember where they were about to go. Still, the moment lasted eons.

When Sirius finally pulled back, he rested a hand on Remus’ jaw and smiled at him. “I love you,
too,” he said. There was a pause, and the smile on his face grew slightly melancholy. “Always
have. Never stopped.”

Remus let out a long breath as if in relief, and he smiled. “Neither did I.”

Sirius had always thought that the house on Grimmauld Place would kill him. When he’d been a
kid, he’d imagined it suffocating him slowly, poison seeping from the walls and into him. He’d
imagined falling asleep one day and not waking up, and those were the imaginings that’d made
him run away the first time. He hadn’t wanted to die like that.

The second time Sirius escaped the house after being trapped there, he knew better than to declare
that it would be forever. He’d been proven wrong the first time, after all, and if all went well, he
should return there, though he detested the idea. Still, it felt somehow final when the door swung
closed behind Sirius and he took a deep breath of the clean air outside. Remus looked over at him,
and Sirius turned his head to meet the other man’s blue eyes for a moment before he took his
offered hand to disapparate together. For that moment, he felt free again.

Chapter End Notes

Yes, I’m crying. Yes, I’m an absolute slut for repetition and parallels in writing (re-
read ch.1 or ch.24 if you don’t know what I mean). Yes, my brain goes zing every
time I mention the title of this fic in a quote. No, I will never emotionally recover from
that one scene in the fifth movie with Sirius and Harry, and I had to incorporate that
line into the fic somehow. That’s pretty much why I named this fic “When It’s All
Over,” anyway, that and it’s also sort of after the song by Raign. And no, I’m not
including Sirius’ death scene, because even I am not that sadistic.

On a separate note, I'm sure most of us have either seen or heard about JKR's most
recent spewing of hate on Twitter, along with her tweet about the royalties she
continues to receive because of the Harry Potter fandom. In light of this, I'd just like to
remind everyone to please not buy Harry Potter-branded stuff. You can buy the books
or other merch second-hand, as well as find them online (just search "[book name]
pdf" on google) or borrow them or their audiobooks from a library. In addition, there is
an abundance of amazing small Etsy sellers that make high-quality merch that does not
in any way give money to JKR, and I would say the quality is often far better than
anything you could get from the Wizarding World shop. Please continue to consume
stuff in this fandom mindfully. I think I speak for many of us when I say that it's so
painful to see the creator of something that has gotten me through so many hard times
openly hate the identities I've struggled so hard to be proud of, as well as fight for a
world where people like me are not safe. We have to fight back however we can.
 1996: Love of My Life
Chapter Notes

cw: major character death (the aftermath), arguably unhealthy relationship with
drugs/alcohol

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Remus was woken by the sound of knocking. It was persistent, a steady rhythm coming from the
front door that seemed to go on and on. He groaned and his eyelids fluttered open, then slid shut
again. The daylight that streamed in from the windows of the flat hurt his eyes. The knocking
ceased for a moment, and Remus hoped that whoever it was would just go away. He turned his
head to press his other cheek to the pillow he was laying on, turning his face away from the
windows, into the side of the couch.

“Remus,” a voice came from the front door, accompanied by another few tentative knocks.
“Remus, can I come in?”

Remus closed his eyes tightly, trying to ignore it. He didn’t want to talk, didn’t want whatever
platitudes the person at the door could offer him. He wanted nothing.

“Remus, if you don’t answer in the next two minutes, I’m going to blast the door open,” the person
said after a moment’s silence, and Remus registered that it was Emmeline’s voice for the first time.
“I’m not leaving until I see that you’re alive in there.”

Emmeline followed her words with another set of fast knocks, much louder and more forceful than
before. Remus groaned again, shifting on the couch and accidentally rolling himself to the floor
with a thump. The knocking at the door paused for a moment at the sound. He climbed to his feet
slowly, rubbing his eyes before he blinked them open, the bright sunlight from the windows
making his head ache. Then, sighing, he walked over to the door and unlocked it, swinging it open
to reveal Emmeline standing there, waiting for him.

Her brown eyes scanned Remus up and down, taking in the rumpled clothes which he hadn’t
changed since the previous day, as well as his bloodshot eyes and pale cheeks.

“Good morning,” Remus said, hoping that his tone conveyed his annoyance at being woken.

Emmeline didn’t look remotely abashed and raised her eyebrows at him, a look of concern settling
onto her face. “It’s one o’clock in the afternoon, Remus,” she said. “I owled you yesterday and said
I’d be over today, remember?”

Remus racked his mind but came up blank. There was a stack of unopened letters on his counter,
however. Probably her note was one of them.

“Can I come in?” Emmeline asked.

Remus’ gaze fell to the grocery bag in her left hand, then flicked back up to her face. He wanted to
find an excuse to send her away. He really wanted to. Still, his stomach rumbled, and he wasn’t
sure when the last time he’d eaten was, given that it was apparently midday, and he was still
searching for his memories of the last one. Remus opened the door wider, stepping aside and
allowing her to cross the threshold.

Emmeline didn’t say anything as she made her way to the kitchen, setting the grocery bag down on
the counter and beginning to remove items to put in the fridge. Remus saw a carton of eggs and a
pitcher of milk. His stomach rumbled again. He saw Emmeline’s eyes drift around to examine the
state of the sitting room as she worked once or twice, then to the stack of unopened mail on the
counter. Still, she didn’t comment until she was finished putting away her purchases.

“I can make some food if you’re hungry,” she said, turning to him with a quizzical look on her
face.

“You don’t have to,” Remus said quickly, though his stomach had clearly betrayed him before.

Emmeline gave him a small smile. “Don’t worry about it,” she said.

As she turned to the stove and grabbed the eggs again from the fridge, Remus tried to remember
how long it’d been since she’d been there. Maybe a week? Time had felt hazy these past two
weeks.

“Did you just get back from France?” he asked, hoping the location that came to his mind was the
right one. He had a hard time keeping track of where she traveled for work at the best of times, and
this was certainly not that.

“Mm-hm,” Emmeline murmured, not looking back at him. “Day before yesterday. I came back for
the Order meeting yesterday, and to meet with Dumbledore, but I have to head back out again
soon.”

“There was an Order meeting yesterday?” Remus asked, glancing again toward his stack of letters
only slightly guiltily. He wasn’t sure if he would’ve attended even if he’d known, if he were honest
with himself.

“Yeah,” Emmeline replied. “At Hogwarts. Don’t worry. You didn’t miss much of anything
important.” She snorted. “Snape is worried about losing his credibility with the other Death Eaters.
Personally, I can think of a few places where he can stick that credibility.”

Remus didn’t reply right away, the words processing sluggishly in his brain. After an elongated
pause, he asked: “And did you tell him that?”

“I may have mentioned it,” she said, and Remus could hear a slight smile in her voice. In another
time, he might’ve told her to be careful. He might’ve warned her. That day, however, he couldn’t
muster up the energy to do so.

“Remus,” Emmeline said, and Remus realized that she’d slid a plate across to him, two sunny-side-
up eggs staring back at him.

He started, then took up the fork and knife she’d passed him, avoiding her watchful eyes on him.
“Thank you,” he muttered after he chewed and swallowed the first bite. Despite his hunger, the
eggs felt like rubber in his mouth and tasted like nothing. These days, everything did.

Emmeline didn’t speak as Remus ate, and when he’d finished, she took his plate away. He felt
vaguely guilty for letting her act as his caretaker, but he didn’t have the energy to do it himself or
pretend that he would when she left. He hated that he wanted her to leave. She’d gotten him food,
after all, and come to make sure he was still alive. He should be grateful. He was grateful. Sort of.
“How have you been holding up, Remus?” Emmeline asked, her brown eyes resting carefully on
him as she leaned back against the counter and examined him.

Remus’ stomach sank. He hated that question. Hated the feeling of being observed. Hated that she
thought he’d break apart. That she knew he was already broken.

“Fine,” he muttered. “I’ve been holding up fine, Em.”

Her gaze flickered around the sitting room behind him again, and part of Remus resented the
concern in her gaze, her easy detection of his lie. Of course, anyone would see through that lie. It
was like tissue paper.

“Have you been smoking again?” Emmeline asked, not bothering with tact, her gaze flickering to
the coffee table, no doubt, where there lay the remains of a joint.

“It was a full moon the day before yesterday,” Remus defended quietly, not meeting her gaze. “It
helps with the pain.”

“I know,” Emmeline said, though her expression told him that she understood too well, that she
knew that the pain was less with the Wolfsbane Potion Hestia was continuing to give him, and that
there was another sort of pain he needed to soothe.

“You don’t,” Remus replied, closing his eyes briefly before gaining the courage to look back up at
her, his gaze now accusing. “If you knew, you wouldn’t ask it like that. I’m not going to apologize
for how I’m surviving this, Emmeline.”

“I’m not asking you to apologize, Remus,” Emmeline returned evenly, not matching his
confrontational tone. “I’m just worried about you. I don’t want you to let yourself drown in it.”

“Don’t act like you know better than I do how to deal with grief,” Remus said, and his voice was
louder now, angrier, which he hated himself for a bit, but here finally was someone to loose the
anger on. He couldn’t stop it. “I’ve done it just as many times as you have, alright? I just need
time. Space. Can’t you just leave me be? Can’t you and Hestia just stop coming here like I’m
going to die if you leave me alone for a week?”

“Leave you be?” There was disbelief in her voice now, a kind of anger, like when she’d told him
she’d break down the door if he didn’t open it. She shook her head, a look of slight disgust on her
face.

“No, Remus,” she said bitterly. “We’re not going to leave you be. I’ve given people space. I gave
Dorcas space. I gave Mary space. I’ve lost enough friends to space.”

Remus flinched away from her words and their meaning, and another wave of shame rushed
through him, banishing the anger as quickly as it’d come. “I’m not Dorcas,” he mumbled, avoiding
her gaze again, which was suddenly too piercing when he had nothing to defend against it. “I’m not
going to get myself killed trying to get revenge. I’m not Mary, either. I’m not going to run away.”

“No, you’re Remus,” Emmeline said, a note of sorrow in her voice. “And you’ll let yourself
crumble. I saw you do it before, and I won’t sit back and just watch you do it to yourself now. We
did it wrong last time, Hestia and I. We let the grief tear us apart. I won’t do that again. I’m not
going to let you face it alone, Remus.”

Remus had nothing to say to that. He wasn’t sure how to handle the kindness, the care. He didn’t
know how to handle anything. Instead, he just nodded, and let Emmeline give him that look, the
look that said she understood, the look that said she knew how he was drowning, the look that said
she’d pull him above the water for as long as he couldn’t bring himself to swim by himself.

After a long stretch of silence, Emmeline spoke again. “I heard Sirius left Harry everything in his
will,” she said, her voice tentative. “Do you need—”

Remus simply shook his head. “Sirius already transferred about half of all his gold into my
Gringotts vault before he died,” he replied softly. “Didn’t bother to tell me. I only found out a few
days ago.”

He felt his eyes begin to burn at the memory of visiting his vault, ready to withdraw the few coins
left there, only to find heaps of gold looking back at him. He’d buried his face in his hands then
and there and begun to weep, much to the discomfort of the goblin who’d accompanied him.

“Oh,” Emmeline said, and Remus heard the weight of grief in her words. “That’s a very Sirius
thing to do.” Remus nodded, a smile tugging at his lips even as he tried to blink away tears.

“Bastard,” he said. “Making me think about how much I love him, now that—” But he couldn’t
finish because his throat seemed to have closed off, only allowing a small, broken noise to come
through.

Emmeline moved around the counter slowly, as if she didn’t want to startle him by making any
sudden movements, and wrapped her arms gently around him from the side, burying her head in his
shoulder. A small part of him wanted to throw her off, but more of him needed her warmth, her
touch. He needed something to ground him.

This was what the two weeks since Sirius’ death had been like for Remus—people waiting on his
doorstep, demanding to be let in. Once he did allow them inside, they’d drag the grief out of him.

After he’d finished taking care of people, after Remus had assured himself that Harry was alright
(physically, at least) and he’d at least succeeded in the first few hours of keeping his promise to
Sirius…after all of that, he’d gone back to the empty house. He’d realized upon his return that he
couldn’t stay there, even before Dumbledore had declared that the Order would abandon it as
headquarters.

So Remus had returned to this flat instead—the flat he’d spent so many years alone after Sirius had
disappeared from his life before. It was strangely appropriate, really. He’d left Sirius’ old room in
Grimmauld Place behind, bringing some of his old keepsakes with him, but leaving the rest. There
were so many things left behind, remnants of that last day that they thought would be a normal one
but turned into an ending no one had expected. A book still laying on the bed, open to the spot
Sirius had left off at. A small jar filled halfway, with the blue petals of forget-me-nots poking over
the rim, taken from the Potters’ garden the last time they’d visited, only days before, left on the
desk. Sirius’ scent still lingering on the sheets. Things that’d been comforting once now turned to
nightmares. Remus was well familiar with that progression.

The first people to arrive were Emmeline and Hestia, the following morning, with some questions
but mostly sad gazes and held back tears and warm hands on his shoulder, anything they could do
to try to comfort him. Then there was his father, who Remus hadn’t told what’d happened, but
who’d seen it in the paper. He just turned up on the doorstep, a reversal of the last time, ready to
hold Remus as he’d done before. But Remus hadn’t wanted to be held, not at first. He hadn’t
wanted to fall apart. He’d done so anyway.

Then there was Alaric and El, and Remus’ hollow joke of: “You’re not going to kiss me again, are
you?” This had earned him a confused look from El and a smack on the back of the head from
Alaric, which he’d quickly followed by pulling Remus into a rare hug, which had made Remus
freeze at first before he’d wrapped his arms around Alaric in return, clinging to him.

The thing was—the thing was…Remus didn’t think that any of it made him feel better. He felt
hollow, and it seemed that everyone was trying just to make him feel, but every time, after the tears
were shed and the words spoken, he just went back to that hollow feeling. He didn’t know if it
would ever go away. Experience told him it would, but his heart told him that it would go on
forever. It was hard to bring logic into that.

When Emmeline left that day, she did so only after she’d helped him clean the flat, which basically
meant her cleaning and him telling her where something went in the rare case where she didn’t
already know. Backing out the door, she declared that she or Hestia would be around sometime in a
few days to check on him again, and he didn’t protest, just nodded. Perhaps in a few days, Hestia
would get the same treatment from him, but neither woman seemed to mind.

Remus wasn’t exactly sure what to do with himself after she left. He sat on the couch for a while,
looking out the windows at the sunny August weather. He tried to find a book to read but only
ended up coming across a sketchbook of Sirius’ and flipping through the pages, ice surrounding his
heart. It’d been one of the few things he’d retrieved from the Black house, and now Remus had it to
remember the last year of Sirius’ life. The drawings were lighter toward the beginning, outlines
rather than the ones with thick charcoal and dark shading toward the end. By the end, it felt like
Sirius had been drawing more the negative space around figures rather than the subjects
themselves, most of the pages covered in grey and black. Remus hated to see it. He hated to
remember what the last months of Sirius’ life had been like—being consumed by the house that’d
tortured him in his youth.

He snapped the book shut and turned to his room to find another joint. He smoked it out the
window, sinking gratefully into the hazy high feeling that took him away from himself. Then, he
fell into another deep sleep.

Hours later, Remus was woken for the second time that day by a rapping on the door. He woke
more quickly this time, oddly enough, given that he was still high, and registered the dusk light
filtering in. It wasn’t the next day yet.

Still, as Remus rose from the couch and moved toward the door, he thought he already had a good
idea who it would be, despite the lingering fuzziness of his mind. Sure enough, when he opened
the door, Tonks was standing on the mat.

“Hey,” Tonks greeted Remus, a note of attempted cheerfulness in her voice, which only thinly
veiled the sadness in it. He lifted the six-pack of beer that he held in his left hand: an offering.
“Can I come in?” She asked it like she hadn’t been over almost every night during the past week,
as if Remus might refuse her this time when he’d allowed her in every other.

“Yeah, ‘course,” Remus said, allowing Tonks past and closing the door behind him.

Tonks lingered slightly in the hallway, narrowing her eyes as she peered into Remus’ face. “Shit,
you’re already high, aren’t you?” he questioned, raising his eyebrows in something like mild
surprise or perhaps even slight admiration, unlike Emmeline’s earlier worry.

Remus shrugged, not denying it. “Still a bit, yeah,” he admitted. “Coming down, though.”

“That’s a shame,” Tonks said, and Remus smiled a little. It was barely even forced.

Tonks’ hair was now a light brown color, rather than the bright pink shade he usually sported. She
looked tired, just as she had the first day when she arrived at the flat, a week after the fight at the
Ministry. Remus hadn’t asked Tonks why his appearance was less vivid than usual, but Tonks had
offered up the explanation readily anyway.

“The Healers say it’s just because of the injuries,” she’d said on that first day, sipping a beer
disconsolately. “But I fell down a whole flight of stairs in my fourth year of Hogwarts and got a
concussion, and it only took a day or two for me to be able to use my powers again then.”

“I’m guessing the injuries from dark magic would make a bigger impact,” Remus had pointed out,
trying feebly to console him.

Tonks had shrugged tiredly. “I’m beginning to think it’s not even that,” he’d said, gazing blankly
out the window. She’d turned to Remus with a desperate look as if he’d been the only person who
might understand. “That’s the first time I’ve ever met my aunt, you know? And she tried to kill me,
which I guess wasn’t even the first time. And she did kill—”

Tonks had cut herself off then with a sharp inhale of breath, but Remus had understood. He still
understood. Perhaps it was the intake of breath, the breaking off before uttering Sirius’ name that
made him continue to let Tonks in, time after time, because it was the kind of raw pain he, too, felt
to his core. Tonks hadn’t come to coddle Remus. She came because she needed someone, too.

In the present, Tonks shucked off his clunky boots, which he insisted on wearing even in the heat
of summer, and walked over to the couch, slumping down onto it like it’d been the most exhausting
day of his life. Remus followed, sitting down silently and waiting for Tonks to break it. That was
another nice thing about Tonks: she never had to be prompted, never played a game with
information, as so many people did, as if she needed to know that someone wanted it enough
before she shared. Instead, he just handed it over readily.

“They officially cleared his name today,” Tonks said.

Remus glanced over at her. “Officially?” he asked.

Tonks shrugged. “Well, all the top Aurors finished the paperwork to properly close the case, and
Fudge held a press conference about it, so…yeah,” he said. “Officially.”

“Oh,” Remus said. He thought back to the article in the Prophet just after the battle had taken
place, just after Sirius had died. There’d been a short explanation of Sirius’ death along with the
information that he’d been vouched for by Dumbledore as innocent of his supposed crimes, though
they were still waiting on more details. Apparently, this was the follow-up. Well, Remus supposed
it was good to have a warning before the next day, where there would no doubt be a long article in
the Daily Prophet about him.

“They tried to interview me,” Tonks said, a note of anger in her voice. She grabbed a beer bottle
from the six-pack and uncapped it quickly with an attachment on the keychain she kept at her belt,
then leaned back and took a long sip before speaking again. “My head of department—Scrimgeour,
you know—was really leaning on me about it. I suppose it’s because the reporters are still being
met at my parents’ door by a stinging hex if they come too close.”

“I assume you told them to shove it, too?” Remus asked wryly.

Tonks snorted. “Yeah,” he replied. “I mean, as much as I could do with Scrimgeour. Looks like he
won’t be around the Auror office much anymore, though.”

“Why not?”

“Because he might take over for Fudge,” Tonks replied, a slight smirk on her face as she looked
over at Remus.

Remus raised his eyebrows in surprise, then leaned over and grabbed a beer for himself, holding it
out for Tonks wordlessly for him to uncap it. He did so without comment, still smiling slightly.

“So he’s really resigning, is he?” Remus asked, taking a thoughtful sip of the beer. It was cheap
stuff, a little gross, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind at the moment.

“Looks like it,” Tonks said. “The public’s getting angry, and within the Ministry, there are
stirrings, too. It’s only a matter of time. Like I said, people are even starting to plan for who’ll take
over.”

“Damn,” Remus said, shaking his head in slight bemusement. He wouldn’t pretend to feel bad for
Cornelius Fudge, despite the haphazard way he was being chucked out of office. Remus wasn’t
sure he could think of even one positive thing that the man had done in his years of being Minister,
and he’d definitely done plenty of damage, that was for sure.

“So why do you think Scrimgeour’s going to be the one replacing him?” Remus asked.

Tonks shrugged. “That’s just what they’re saying,” she said. “I suppose it looks good to the public
to have an Auror at the head of the fight against Voldemort.”

“Do you think he’d be good?” Remus asked.

Tonks thought for a moment, then shrugged. “He can be an arse,” Tonks said. “But he’s a pretty
good head of the Auror office, all things considered. Who knows how that’ll translate to Minister,
though.”

Remus nodded, only hoping that if anything, he’d just be better than Cornelius Fudge. These days,
it didn’t feel like the question was “who can get things done in the Ministry?” Rather, it felt like
the question was: “Who will be the least incompetent and cause the least problems while we try to
fight this war?” He supposed that that was politics.

As Tonks lost interest in the conversation, she moved over to Remus’ record collection, thumbing
through it. Remus was used to this, as Tonks had done it almost every time he’d come over since
Sirius’ death, going through most of the collection before selecting some vinyl or other to place on
the stereo.

Tonks had remarked jealously many times that she wished she could’ve had the original of many
of the records he owned, or asked about the bands. It was clear that Remus’ first impression of the
young wizard had been very much correct: he idolized the music scene of the 70s and 80s and had
even talked about getting a Time-Turner to attend concerts at that time. Remus had to admit,
though, that Tonks’ taste ran much more metal than his had when he’d been around then, though
she definitely still had a liking for the softer aspects, too, especially the ones she’d grown up with.

This time, he fixated on the Queen albums.

“Did you ever get to see them live?” Tonks asked, holding up a vinyl that Remus recognized
immediately as the first Queen self-titled album.

He nodded, smiling at the jealous groan she made as she put the record back, looking for another
one.

“Only once, in 1979,” Remus explained. “We didn’t even get tickets, just snuck into one of their
last shows in London. A Confundus Charm works wonders for that sort of thing.”
“You and Sirius?” Tonks asked, still flipping through albums carefully rather than looking up.

Remus hummed assent. “Marlene, Dorcas, and Hestia came, too,” he recalled. “But it was Sirius’
idea. James was right pissed when he found out where we’d gone the next day after he got off his
shift.”

Remus could see Tonks’ soft smile even from his profile as he finally pulled out the record he
seemed to have been looking for. A Night at the Opera. Of course. Tonks placed it on the turntable
and started it, grabbing her beer and moving back to the couch with a satisfied look on her face.

“This is their best album,” he declared. Remus shrugged, not responding, only taking another sip of
his beer. “What, you disagree?” Tonks asked, studying him.

“No, you’re probably right,” Remus said. “But I just remember that the newest one that came out
always felt like the best one, when I was younger.”

“Don’t rub it in,” Tonks said, rolling her eyes.

Remus let a soft smile play across his face, and indeed, the songs seemed to soothe something in
him as much as the beer had. They spent the first side of the record listening with interspersed
chatter when Tonks felt like saying something. It felt comfortable, Remus thought, a comfortable
companionship that didn’t demand something from him. They were both sad, it was true, but they
didn’t need to declare it, as they were both already aware.

They could talk or they could not. They could sit in silence or listen to music, and Tonks could talk
about her day at the Ministry putting out fires—sometimes literally—and Remus could listen, and
he could tell her that he didn’t have a job or anything to do except lie there and sink further into his
depression, or he could stay silent. Tonks didn’t press him. Remus didn’t press Tonks to talk,
either, but he talked nonetheless. Sometimes about nothing. Sometimes about Sirius, about his
family, about his childhood and Andromeda and Ted and how it’d all been in those years in
between, about how he’d thought that he’d found something again in Sirius, and then promptly lost
it. Whatever they said or didn’t say, too, it was alright. Remus enjoyed that alright feeling, like it
was a moment of calm in the midst of a storm. As if they understood each other, even when they
didn’t say it. It reminded him of how he’d felt around Sirius, sometimes.

Tonks stood to flip the record after a while, and the B side came issuing out of the speakers. It was
only a few minutes into “The Prophet’s Song” that a chill ran down Remus’ spine, his mouth
suddenly dry as he tried not to concentrate on the lyrics, which struck a little too close to home at
the moment. The quiet formed something thicker between them, and Remus knew that Tonks must
be thinking something similar to him as she listened to the song, judging by the slight frown on her
face. The pleasant buzz of the fading weed and beer had turned to cold clamminess inside of
Remus. Still, neither of them moved to switch the song until it faded, replaced by the next.

The brief relief inside of Remus at the change, however, was stamped out as soon as he heard the
first notes of the next song after the silence. Tonks smiled and began humming along, but Remus’
insides froze. He should’ve expected this, been prepared for it, but he wasn’t. It was strange that
most of the songs that’d ever meant anything to Remus and Sirius’ relationship were by Queen.
This one, though…

“Love of my life, don’t leave me,” Freddie Mercury sang from the stereo plaintively. “You’ve taken
my love, and now desert me.”

Remus’ grip on the beer bottle tightened, and for a moment he thought that it might break, that
shards might spiral outwards, and maybe one would hit the stereo. He didn’t even care if the
record that Sirius had loved so much, that they’d played together, was scratched. He just wanted it
off. He didn’t move, however, and then he was thinking of an argument he and Sirius had had, both
of them just teenagers, when Sirius had exploded a glass behind Remus and the shards had lain like
droplets of water on the floor while Sirius stormed off.

“You will remember when this is blown over, and everything’s all by the way,” Mercury sang over
the stereo. “When I grow older, I will be there at your side to remind you how I still love you…”

It was a perfect metaphor, really. Promises that couldn’t be kept. The fantasy of a love that would
last cut short by a life ending, someone who thought they’d have all the time in the world, all the
time that everyone was supposed to get…

“Remus?” Tonks had stopped humming and was now peering at Remus over her beer bottle, a look
of concern blooming on her face. “You alright?”

Remus swallowed, tearing his eyes from the spot in the distance he’d been staring at and looking
back at Tonks. He gave a short, small nod, and Tonks narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, tilting his
head to look at Remus, but he didn’t press him further. That was an unspoken rule between them.
They didn’t press for what wasn’t freely given.

Still, part of Remus wanted to say it. He wanted to speak it aloud. He wanted to say how this had
been their song, in a way that hadn’t felt like a cliché, though it probably had been. Still, he wasn’t
sure how to, since neither he nor Sirius had ever said it, not to each other, and, as far as Remus
knew, not to anyone else, either.

They hadn’t been Lily and James, after all: proudly sappy—mostly from James’ influence—and
happy to share with the world how much of the future they truly saw in each other. No, Sirius and
Remus had been different. Maybe they’d been afraid of jinxing it, scared that it would fall apart and
then they wouldn’t be able to take back those words, to get another try. Maybe that was why it’d
taken Remus so long to tell Sirius that he loved him the second time around, why he’d only said it
once. He’d thought about that constantly since Sirius had died: how he could’ve told him it every
day, every hour, every minute, but he hadn’t. And now Sirius was gone. He hoped Sirius had
understood nonetheless.

“Back, hurry back please, bring it back home to me, because you don’t know what it means to
me.” Remus felt as if the stereo was mocking him, as if the notes were taunting him.

It hadn’t mattered, of course, them not saying it. They’d broken anyway. This song had stood to
taunt Remus over many years. It’d become a tragic one in those in-between years, the song that
might’ve made Remus feel as if he was dying if it started playing unexpectedly over the radio,
turning his breaths short and making his heart pound until he could hear it in his ears, like now.
Over time, it’d become more melancholy than anything else, though, as the feeling dulled to a
softer ache, a kind of song that would make him sad in a way that he sometimes needed because
he’d wanted to remember.

Then, when he and Sirius had put themselves back together again, a small, hopeful part of Remus
had believed that it might be true. Some part of him, probably an idealistic part left behind from
childhood, which he’d never been able to overcome, believed that Sirius could really be the love of
his life in a way that wasn’t tragic, in a way that could mean that Remus would really love and be
loved by him forever. Now, though, he knew it’d always been foolish. Sirius was gone for good
this time, and there was no bringing him back.

“Love of my life, love of my life…” The song finished with a final series of notes, and Remus
realized that there were tears on his face. He reached his free hand up to wipe them away and
 sniffed quietly. He could tell that Tonks was watching him, but his gaze was gentle, not burning,
and when Remus turned to look at him, he offered Remus a sad smile.

“You really loved him, didn’t you?” Tonks asked, a heavy, melancholy note in her voice.

Remus swallowed, feeling more tears press on the inside of his eyes, and not making an effort to
stop them. “Yeah, I did,” he replied, his voice choked.

Tonks nodded, the corners of his mouth turning down in a kind of sympathetic sadness that felt
bigger than Remus, that felt like it was for the whole world, and what it’d lost.

“I’ve never loved someone like that,” Tonks admitted, taking another sip of her nearly empty beer.
“I’ve been in love once or twice, sure, but not in that forever way, not in the way where you keep
finding one another time after time. I wasn’t even sure that really existed until I saw the two of
you.”

Tonks examined Remus almost academically across the couch as he tried to dry the tears sliding
down his face at her words, and at the feelings the song had evoked. There was a long silence, and
then she said:

“You’re lucky, y’know? I feel like most people don’t get that sort of thing, which is no disrespect
to good old standard love, but still. It’s different.”

Remus nodded, still wiping at his eyes. “I know,” he replied. And he did.

Maybe if someone else had said it, in some other tone of voice, almost scolding him for not being
grateful as if it should cancel out the pain, he would’ve taken a swing at them. But Tonks hadn’t
said it like that, because Tonks never said anything like that. Tonks never tried to make him feel
better, and maybe that’s why Tonks was one of the only people he could stand at the moment
because Remus didn’t want to feel better.

He wanted something else. Something he couldn’t have. Something from the past. But at least
Remus was used to wanting what he couldn’t have, by then.

Chapter End Notes

jkr: Sirius doesn’t leave anything to Remus after he dies

me: yeah fucking RIGHT

Okay, I didn’t realize this until much later than I should’ve, but I think I’ve been
writing autistic Tonks?? It’s crazy I was just writing him as how I saw him and saying
to myself, god, I love writing Tonks so much, it’s just so fun. I thought at first it was
just because she’s genderfluid and so am I, but I just had an aha moment that was
like…ohhhhhhhhhh. Yeah. I’ve just written an autistic character. I’m pretty pumped
about it, actually.

Also, if you’re wondering, yes I do know other music from the 70s and 80s other than
Queen. I just love Queen so much, so why on earth would I try to diversify my music
references when I can literally just talk about Queen songs over and over again?
That’d be boring :)
 1996: Knocking on Heaven's Door
Chapter Notes

cw: major character death

See the end of the chapter for more notes

On the morning of the coldest day of July 1996, Emmeline woke early, grey light filtering through
her window. The curtains were open, letting the light fall over her face on the bed, and when
Emmeline blinked her eyes open after several moments of coming hazily back to waking, she
wondered why she would’ve left them that way the previous night.

As she raised her head to look out the window, Emmeline made out a dark shape just outside the
windowsill. As she blinked, it came into focus, and Emmeline realized that there was a crow
staring back at her, its beady black eyes intent, head cocked slightly to one side. It gave the glass of
the window a rude tap with its beak as she focused on it. She raised her eyebrows sleepily at it.

“It’s rude to stare, you know,” Emmeline told the crow blearily, and, as if offended by her words,
the crow made a loud caw, then took flight, disappearing from her line of sight.

Leaning back on her pillows and closing her eyes, Emmeline tried to recall what she’d been
dreaming about before she’d woken. There’d been a confused haze of shapes, bursts of light, then
something that had felt like a gust of cold wind blasting over her, freezing her from the inside out.
Perhaps that was just the cold morning, however.

Emmeline shivered, unable to cast the wakefulness away, and opened her eyes once again, sitting
up in bed and yawning. She’d just returned from France again the previous day and was back home
for only a week before she’d head off again, resuming the dig for the still elusive rune carving that
her department was fixated on at the moment. So far, all she’d found were beetles.

Emmeline threw her legs off the side of the bed and stretched, then stood slowly, looking out the
window again as she did so. Outside on the telephone lines, there was a line of crows sitting and
staring at her, as if the one she’d shooed earlier had come back with all of its friends. Shaking her
head in bemusement at this odd occurrence, Emmeline turned her attention toward the dresser and
grabbed a pair of trousers and a shirt to pull on. She tied her hair back before heading to the
bathroom to get ready, running into Hestia on the way.

“You’re up early,” Hestia said cheerfully.

Emmeline made a face. “Against my will,” she said.

Hestia laughed and patted Emmeline’s shoulder sympathetically, moving past her down the hall.
“I’ll make tea, don’t worry,” she said, moving toward the kitchen.

Emmeline cracked a slight smile as she went into the loo to get ready for the day.

When Emmeline finished in the bathroom and strode out toward the kitchen, Hestia handed a mug
of tea to her, allowing her to stir her own sugar in. Emmeline gave her a quick thank you, stirring in
the sugar happily as Hestia sipped her cup and looked out of the window thoughtfully.
“Do you have a shift today?” Emmeline asked as she popped two slices of toast into the toaster.

“Nope,” Hestia replied, popping the ‘p’ satisfiedly. “Completely off today, if you don’t count
Order duty. If all goes well, though, and no disasters happen, I should be lazing around.”

“Kingsley coming over?” Emmeline asked, taking another sip of her tea, feeling like it was
warming her insides, which still felt cold. She blamed her dream.

“He said maybe,” Hestia said, shrugging, a worried crease coming between her brows. “The
Aurors are swamped with work, of course, with the disaster the Death Eaters and the giants that
work with them made in the West Country.”

Emmeline hummed worriedly. “They making any headway in trying to find the giants involved?”

“None whatsoever, last I heard,” Hestia sighed, shaking her head in disappointment. “And
Dumbledore hasn’t had any luck either, given what he said at the last meeting.”

“Isn’t this the kind of thing that Snape is supposed to help us with?” Emmeline griped, taking
another sip of her tea.

Hestia sighed and crossed her arms. “You’d think,” she replied. “Honestly, what has he done for
us, really?”

“Apparently lots that Dumbledore won’t tell us about,” Emmeline returned, shaking her head in
frustration. The toaster pinged in the background, but Emmeline ignored it, looking back at Hestia,
anger surging within her again.

“After the way he treated Sirius before he died,” she said angrily. “And how he apparently treats
Harry and Neville, and all the rest of the kids at school, for that matter, you’d think that
Dumbledore wouldn’t be so convinced that he’s on the right side.”

“I know,” Hestia said. “But Dumbledore isn’t so easily swayed.”

Emmeline frowned and shook her head. “I don’t understand how Dumbledore can forget who he is,
and what he’s done. What he did to Mary, and to Remus, both when we were in school and when
he was a teacher…and what he did to Lily.”

Hestia gave Emmeline a sad smile. “We learned long ago that Dumbledore won’t change his mind
because of us, remember? There’s nothing we can do but hope that he knows what he’s doing.”

Emmeline sighed and nodded, though inwardly she still rebelled against the idea. It was a lifetime
ago, she recalled, that she’d said almost the same thing to Hestia, that all they could do was try to
protect one another if Dumbledore wouldn’t. Now, she balked at the words. They hadn’t been able
to protect one another back then, and they were fools if they thought they could now. Hopeless
fools.

She turned back to the toaster, grabbing her slightly-burnt pieces of toast and dropping them on a
plate, then turning to the fridge to grab butter and jam. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash
of black from the window and looked up in time to see the wing of a crow ducking quickly out of
sight. A strange feeling came over her, like she was staring at a question on an exam that she knew
the answer to, but which couldn’t quite come to her mind nevertheless. She tried to shake it off as
she spread butter and jam on her toast and thought about her day ahead. She was going to visit her
mother and have lunch with her and her two brothers. Benjamin was in town with his family, and
Noah had weekends off, so it’d be a cozy gathering.
The sound of three careful knocks on the front door drew Emmeline out of her reverie, and she
furrowed her brow at Hestia before moving toward it. “Expecting anyone?” she asked.

Hestia looked up in surprise as Emmeline passed, shaking her head. “Not this early. Why?”

Emmeline didn’t bother to think about the strangeness of her answer as she looked through the
peephole. There didn’t seem to be anyone on the doorstep, so she swung the door open, looking
first at the doormat to see if anything had been left there, then up and down the hallway. It was
empty.

“That’s odd,” she said to herself as she shut the door.

“What’s odd?” Hestia asked, sounding puzzled behind her.

Emmeline turned back. “There’s no one there.”

“Should there be?” Hestia asked, her tone very confused now, head tilted as if she was trying to
figure out what she was missing.

“The knocking on the door—” Emmeline started, but the confused look on Hestia’s face stopped
her in her tracks. She returned her best friend’s puzzled look. “Didn’t you hear it?”

“I didn’t hear anyone knocking on the door, Em,” Hestia said. She glanced around. “Maybe it was
just the wind?” She looked a little worried, and Emmeline nodded slowly.

“Must be,” she said.

Hestia appeared suspicious, but Emmeline’s expression must’ve settled back to something neutral
because she didn’t inquire further. Inside Emmeline’s head, however, there was something more
brewing. There was a slight ringing in her ears that seemed to grow louder, and underneath it, she
could hear the ticking of a clock, the sound louder than it should’ve been given that the nearest
clock was across the room, sitting innocently on the wall above the sofa.

Outside the window, Emmeline spotted another crow flying by, its black feathers glinting in the
cold light filtering through the fog that blanketed London. She swallowed, walking back over to the
kitchen where she’d abandoned her toast, and took another tentative bite. It tasted like chalk all of a
sudden.

Emmeline had never considered herself a particularly superstitious person, but she was, after all, a
witch, and she knew that superstition and magic were often two sides of the same coin. There was
the fact, too, that Death had come knocking on their door far too many times for Emmeline to be
able to react calmly to these kinds of signs, and in this case, they were presenting themselves to her
more obviously than she’d ever seen them before.

Emmeline glanced across at Hestia, who was gazing at her with a slight, thoughtful expression on
her face.

“Is everything alright, Em?” she asked after a moment.

Emmeline met her gaze, swallowed, then nodded again. “I’m fine,” she tried to reassure the other
woman.

“Are you sure?” Hestia pressed.

The worried look in her dark eyes spoke of years of losing people, years of comforting words being
the last words she ever spoke to someone. Still, Emmeline couldn’t bear to share this. The ringing
in her ears seemed to grow louder, along with the insistent ticking. She recalled the cold of her
dream, and icy fingers seemed to crawl down her spine at the thought. She refused to shudder.

“I’m sure,” she replied, pulling on a smile.

....

A few hours later, however, Emmeline had abandoned the pretense of “fine” as she walked down
the London street away from her flat with Hestia, leaving Kingsley and Hestia to share the few
hours that Kingsley had managed to scrounge up. Emmeline frowned as she ignored the people
around her, letting her knowledge of the city lead her to her destination, the ringing in her ears as
prominent as ever.

Emmeline had plans of her own that day, plans that didn’t involve the knocking on her door, the
crows, or the ticking of the clock in her ears. And yet, perhaps these plans involved all of those
things more than she wanted.

Her mind drifted back to a memory she’d thought of many times over the years, one that’d always
seemed to mock her, in hindsight. The conversation had taken place on a sunny, cold day in April,
when she’d been just fifteen, only a week before the first really terrible thing had happened—the
attack on Mary.

She and Hestia had been sitting out on the grounds, in the shade of a large rock they’d found next
to the lake, and playing a game of questions. They’d been dodging Dorcas that day, avoiding a
study session they probably needed but desperately hated the idea of, and just having fun, as kids
did when they still felt as if they might live forever, despite all evidence to the contrary.

“Okay, last day on earth,” Hestia said, snapping her fingers at Emmeline. “What do you do?”

Emmeline grinned and shook her head, looking up to think for a moment.

“Quickly, Vance, quickly,” Hestia prompted impatiently after a moment, her smile belying her
words. “We don’t have all day.”

Emmeline snorted out a laugh. “I don’t know, probably tell Sarah Flemming to fuck off with
copying me on Runes tests.”

Hestia doubled over in a fit of laughter. “You should be doing that anyway!” she said between
giggles, covering her mouth with her hand. “Is that really the best you can come up with?”

Emmeline shook her head, smiling and sighing. “Well, it’s just the standard, innit? I’d tell the
people I love that I love them, spend some time with my family…go for a fly on my broom. What
else?”

Hestia shook her head, apparently despairing again at her friend’s lack of imagination. “No last
items to check off a bucket list? No declarations of undying love? Expressions of last regrets?
Come on, Em, give me something to work with!”

Emmeline smiled and gave a short shake of her head. “I’m sorry it’s so disappointing to you, Tia,
but I’m not missing anything from my life right now, and if I had been, I wouldn’t wait until I was
dying to do them.”

Hestia smiled. “You’re so rational, Em,” she said. “How is it that we’re friends, again?”
“As you’ve said many times: I ground you, and you help me have some fun,” Emmeline said.
Hestia merely rolled her eyes, so Emmeline smiled and continued. “But I think it’s really because
I’m the only one your superpowers don’t work on. I’m too mysterious for your psychic abilities.”

She dodged Hestia’s indignant push, laughing, and Hestia flicked her hair back, raising her chin
haughtily. “No one is immune to my powers of deduction,” she declared. “You just don’t have any
secrets.”

Emmeline smiled. “Maybe so,” she conceded. “Well, then, what would you do with your last day
on earth?”

Hestia didn’t hesitate. “I would pants Severus Snape, of course,” she declared. “No question.”

“Then it really would be your last day to live!” Emmeline laughed.

In the present, Emmeline felt the dregs of the memory fade, the giggles of the two girls collapsing
into silence. Over the years, the question had haunted her more than she ever could’ve imagined it
would, at fifteen: What would you do if you knew you were going to die? What would you do with
your last day?

Emmeline had reflected on the question every time someone she loved had died. For many of
them, it’d been unexpected, a book cut short in the middle of a page, nothing but a bloodstain and
silence to complete the story. For others, like her father, she’d known that it’d been coming, and
yet the day that he’d stopped breathing, she’d still wished that she’d known, wished she could’ve
treated the last moments like they were the last moments she’d have with him. Knowing made all
the difference, and yet knowing was its own curse.

Out of the corner of her eye, Emmeline saw a flash of white and turned her head so quickly that she
cricked her neck. Still, she only caught a glimpse of what’d caught her attention before it seemed to
flicker out of existence: the brief vision of a woman dressed in all white staring at her before she
evaporated. Emmeline wondered briefly whether she might be going crazy. She supposed that it
was better than the alternative because the alternative was that she was dying. And Emmeline
didn’t want to die, not yet.

When Emmeline reached her mother’s door, she only had to knock twice before the door flew
open, and, instead of Esther on the doorstep, she was greeted with the sight of two six-year-old
girls, one hiding behind the door and one standing with her hands on her hips, in superhero pose,
beaming.

“What’s the password?” Samantha Vance demanded as Eleanor giggled from her spot in hiding.

Emmeline pushed away her troubles and smiled, pretending to think for a moment. “I’m not sure I
was provided with a password,” she said seriously. “Could I perhaps bribe my way in instead?”

Reaching inside her bag, Emmeline pulled out two sugar quills, and both her nieces squealed in
delight, Samantha’s hand reaching out immediately to grab one. Emmeline scooted past her into
the house, handing the second to Eleanor as Samantha happily locked the door behind her, already
sucking on the sweet. Emmeline crouched to their level and spread her arms wide. Both girls
immediately jumped on her, allowing her to pick them up, one in each arm, and spin them around
once before setting them back on the floor.

“How are my favorite girls?” she asked them, grinning.

Both started to babble at the same time, telling her about their trip to the city and all the things
they’d seen, while she smiled along. After a moment, another voice came issuing down the
corridor.

“Are you holding your Auntie Emmy hostage, girls?”

The man made a joking tut-tutting noise, and Emmeline turned to see her elder brother smiling
behind her. She grinned and stood to give him a quick hug.

“I see you’ve put them on the path to a sugar high already,” Benjamin muttered in her ear,
amusement in every syllable, and Emmeline chuckled, clapping him on the back as she released
him.

“Your problem, not mine, I’m afraid,” she said.

Benjamin rolled his eyes, ushering Emmeline and his twin daughters into the kitchen, where the
rest of the family were.

Noah, Emmeline’s younger brother, turned to give Emmeline a smile from where he was standing
at the stove, stirring a pot of what she hoped would be his signature stew, as she entered. Susan,
Benjamin’s wife, gave Emmeline a smile as she walked in, though her two daughters rushed at her
before she could say hello. Therefore, it was her mother who stood to hug Emmeline first, raising
herself slowly to her feet and examining her daughter for a moment with a smile on her face before
wrapping her arms around her.

“You’ve been working too hard,” Esther said, planting a soft kiss on her daughter’s temple, and
Emmeline felt tears spring into her eyes at the scent of her mother’s familiar perfume, though she
blinked them away before anyone could see.

“I know,” she whispered and didn’t pull back from the hug until her mother did, giving Emmeline a
soft pat on the cheek again and a smile that spoke of slight worry, despite her obvious joy for all
her children to be in the same place for the first time in months.

Emmeline gave her mother a smile that she hoped would assuage her worries, and glanced around
the room. This one thing was still true from her fifteen-year-old self—Emmeline knew that there
was nothing missing in her life, nothing she wanted and didn’t have, and that these were the people
she’d choose to be with if she did have to say goodbye.

She walked over to Noah by the stove and gave his shoulder a soft nudge with hers, making him
turn and smile at her. “What’re you making?” she asked, moving to look at the pot on the stove
hopefully.

“Your favorite,” he replied, and she smiled, reaching up to ruffle his dirty blonde curls— still her
baby brother, as always. Perhaps there was something strange in her expression as he glanced over
at her, as his expression fell into the same slight worry that her mother’s had shown.

“Everything alright?” he asked, his voice lowering slightly, raising his eyebrows in a way that was
just so like their father that it made Emmeline want to laugh—or cry.

She smiled and nodded. “Everything’s fine,” she said.

Noah raised his eyebrows further, giving her a look that said clearly: We shared bunk beds for eight
years. You can’t hide anything from me.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Emmeline amended, though she knew she still wasn’t being
particularly truthful.
Noah gave her a suspicious look, though he turned back to the pot he was stirring.

“Is it something with the Order? Or Dumbledore?” he asked. There was a casual note in his voice,
one which Emmeline had learned over many years was part genuine and part a façade, a play he
was putting on to show her that he was alright with not being part of the world they’d both been
born into, even though he’d thrown a hundred tantrums over the unfairness of it all as a child.

“There’s always something with the Order,” she answered. “But nothing much today. I’m really
fine, Noah.”

Noah glanced over at her again, his brown eyes, so like her own, searching her face for a moment.
Then, he nodded. “Okay,” he said, and Emmeline knew that this was the kind of “okay” that
meant: I don’t believe you, but I’ll let you be.

It made her happy and sad and made her want to hug him tight for as long as she could, but she
didn’t do that because it’d only make him more suspicious. Instead, she allowed herself to lean her
head on his shoulder as he stirred, and they fell into a familiar, comforting silence that Emmeline
wished could last forever. She knew that keeping this to herself was selfish, but she just wanted
these moments to hold onto if this really was to be her last day. Because it was her last day.

....

When Emmeline walked home that evening, after a long but rewarding day with her family, she felt
lighter than she had on the way over. The ringing in her ears had faded to the background,
seemingly drowned out by the chatter of her family, and the ticking of the phantom clock no longer
unnerved her as much as it had before. As she moved through the streets, she ignored the flashes of
white cloth out of the corner of her eye, dismissing the sight of the woman who seemed to
disappear as soon as Emmeline would catch sight of her as old news. She’d decided in the warmth
of the kitchen of her family home when laughing with her loved ones that there was no point in
dwelling on these omens, nothing she could do about them even if they were what she thought they
were.

As she unlocked the door of her flat and pushed it open, Emmeline found Hestia standing in the
kitchen and eating from a container of leftovers. She smiled at Emmeline as she entered.

“How’s your family?” Hestia asked.

Emmeline gave her a soft smile. “They’re good,” she replied, taking off her jacket and placing it on
a hook. “Sammy and Ellie are even more of a handful than I remember, but that may have been
partially my fault for giving them sweets. My mum’s good, same as ever.”

“And Noah?” Hestia asked.

Emmeline couldn’t help but grin at the purposeful omission of her asking about Benjamin or his
wife. Hestia had never quite forgiven Emmeline’s older brother for all the stories Emmeline had
told her about him, back when they’d been in school, about how Emmeline had always been the
one to take responsibility for the family when he hadn’t, despite being a decade older. Emmeline
had long forgiven Benjamin for all of that—she hadn’t ever been angry about it much if she was
honest—but in some small way, she appreciated that Hestia still held a grudge on her behalf. It
made her feel cared for.

“Noah’s good,” she said. “He’s starting a new teaching job soon at the local secondary school.
Seems pretty excited about it.”
Hestia made a face. “Not sure why anyone would be excited about teaching snotty eleven-year-
olds, but to each their own,” she commented.

Emmeline grinned, chuckling softly at Hestia’s comment before asking: “Kingsley off working
again?”

Hestia snorted out a laugh and nodded as she took another bite of her food. “He never stops,” she
said after chewing and swallowing. “And unfortunately now I have to go and work a night shift
since someone called out sick, so here we are.”

“Is that why you two won’t get married? Too busy to get your shit together?” Emmeline joked,
walking into the kitchen and grabbing a glass, filling it with water.

Hestia choked on a noodle and coughed before looking up at Emmeline, her eyes watering.
“Merlin, Em, are you trying to imitate my mum?” she asked. “Marriage isn’t something I’m
concerned with.”

“You’ve been together for like, ten years now,” Emmeline pointed out. “Why not get married?”

Hestia furrowed her brows and gave Emmeline a suspicious look, lowering her Tupperware.
“You’ve never bothered me about my love life before, Em,” she said. “Why are you asking me this
now?”

Emmeline shrugged, feeling caught under Hestia’s gaze. She knew this look, the piercing one
Hestia liked to use to get answers, even when the people involved weren’t immediately
forthcoming. Usually, Emmeline was good at making her face a neutral mask and escaping it, but,
of course, Hestia had known her for most of her life, and it wasn’t always possible to hide her tells
from her.

“I just want you to be happy,” Emmeline said. “I just want to make sure you’re not holding
anything back that you’d regret later. You never know what could happen, right?”

Hestia nodded slowly. “I am happy,” she said. “I’m happy here, alright? I’m happy with my life as
it is now, as much as I can be at the moment, at least. I’m not holding out for anything, I promise
you, Em. I learned my lesson on that front from last time.”

Emmeline knew what she meant. She’d done it, too, during the last war: thought to herself how
things would be different when the fighting was over, when they could live their lives the way they
wanted to. When that day had come, she’d realized the world she’d been holding out for no longer
existed. She’d grieved for more than just her friends that day.

“Are you happy, Emmeline?” Hestia asked her after a moment, peering at Emmeline again with
that searching look.

Emmeline refocused her gaze, looking back at Hestia with a slight hesitation, trying to figure out
how to answer, how to say that she had everything she wanted, but perhaps that she just wanted
more time. The ringing seemed to grow louder momentarily in her ears, as if as a reminder of what
she might lose.

“I think I’m happy,” Emmeline answered finally. “I have everything I want, you know? I never
wanted anything more than this. Except…well, the people we can’t get back.”

Hestia nodded and put down her container on the counter, moving forward to wrap her arms around
Emmeline, pulling her into a hug. She rested her head on Emmeline’s shoulder, and Emmeline
sighed into Hestia’s hair, the same familiar scent enveloping her. She knew that Hestia understood,
 had understood without her having to really tell her ever, though she’d tried once or twice
fumblingly. She understood that Emmeline had never wanted what everyone else seemed to want,
had never pictured her life in terms of finding one person to share all of it with. Somehow, Hestia
had still become that person for her, in a way that Emmeline much preferred to the kind of love
others searched for. Emmeline had only ever wanted family, and she had it. She’d lost a great deal
of it, too, but she still had it.

“I love you,” Hestia said, giving Emmeline an affectionate smile as she pulled back. “Even if
someday Kingsley and I decide we do want to get married, I’ll still never leave you.”

Emmeline smiled back. “I love you, too,” she said easily. “And I should hope not.” A twinge of
guilt rose up in her as she joked lightly with Hestia, and Hestia seemed to see it, a look of concern
passing over her face.

“If there’s anything bothering you, you should tell me, you know?” she said tentatively, more of an
offer than a question.

Emmeline swallowed and nodded.

Her lips were sealed on this matter, however. She told herself that she’d wake up the next morning
and realize it’d all just been a fleeting bout of nerves. If she didn’t…well, maybe it was best that
this would be her last goodbye to her best friend, rather than something far sadder than she could
stomach.

“I’m fine, Tia,” she said. “I promise.” Emmeline couldn’t help but think of broken promises and
hoped this wouldn’t be one that Hestia had to forgive her for.

Hestia nodded, though her expression was still a little concerned. She finished her food, bade
Emmeline goodbye with a hug and a cheery wave, and left. Emmeline was left alone in the silence,
waiting. Waiting for a message. Waiting for something to go wrong. Waiting and hoping that the
sunrise would come again and that she’d see it.

At a quarter to midnight, the clock stopped on the wall, and the silence became more absolute than
it’d been already. Emmeline knew before the creak sounded on the floorboard outside, knew
before the lock clicked open. She knew before all of it because it’d happened before: a chill
running down her spine, a flash of light, and cold. A memory of a dream.

Emmeline closed her eyes and took a deep breath, a wave of realization crashing over her, even as
she gripped her wand tighter in her hand. Oh, she thought grimly as she rose to her feet, turning to
face the door, her mind going to Dorcas, to James, to Lily. So this is how it’s going to happen.

She still raised her wand to fight as the door burst open, but of course, it was no use. She died
anyway, as they all had. As she perhaps had always been meant to: a story cut off in the middle of
a page, all that remained a bloodstain and silence. Her body would tell a story now, but who could
say if it would be the right one?

Chapter End Notes

A bunch of the things that Emmeline experiences in this chapter are death omens from
various cultures, which include but are not limited to: dreaming about one’s death,
seeing crows, seeing a woman in white, a ringing noise in one’s ears, three knocks on
a door with no one there, etc.. That’s why she knows she’s going to die before it
happens, as Emmeline is very much a scholar, and given the fact that she took History
of Magic to N.E.W.T.s and just had general knowledge from growing up in the
wizarding world, I think that she would’ve been familiar with them.

I’m so sad to say goodbye to Emmeline, but this chapter feels like the goodbye she
deserved. I just thought it fit with her character to know when she’s going to go and be
able to go out with dignity and without regrets about the life she lived. I hope you
agree.
 1996-1997: Déjà Vu
Chapter Notes

This may be an opportune time to remind you all that this fic is mostly, but not entirely
canon compliant, and pretty much the only exception to it being canon compliant is
that Tonks and Remus’ relationship is not what it was in the books (i.e. they don’t
have a romantic relationship and don’t get married). I refuse to write it because I hate
how their relationship is written in the books to diminish Tonks as a character and to
try to erase the queer coding of both Tonks and Remus (my thoughts about it can be
pretty easily summed up with this article).

I am NOT looking to start discourse about this. Whatever your feelings about this ship
are in canon, please don’t air them in the comments. The TikTok Remadora shitshow
of 2021 was enough for me to never want to talk about it again in my life. This is just
me expressing why I’m writing what I’m writing.

That being said, I used to read (and write, but we’re not talking about that because I
was a young teen and it was horrendous) lots of next-gen Harry Potter fanfiction, and
so it would fully break my heart to erase Teddy Lupin, thus the unplanned pregnancy
warning. You’ll have to read on to see how that plays out.

Anyway, hang onto your hats, because this chapter is kind of a rollercoaster.

cw: unplanned pregnancy, major character death, mention of HIV/AIDS, panic attack

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Remus had never been the one to find the bodies. In that one terrible year of losing people to the
war, Remus had never been the one to come upon them after the fact, had never been the one to
search for a pulse that wasn’t there, nor the one to close eyelids over a blank and staring gaze. He
hadn’t been the one to watch as bodies were taken from a room, only the one to stare at someone’s
lifeless form once they were cleaned and dressed for their funeral.

This time, it was different. This time, Remus had been with Tonks when both of their phoenixes
burned against their skin, when they both read the message and looked up at one another in horror.
It felt like time had gone in slow motion after that, the way that they raced each other to the door,
Remus barely even checking up and down the hallway before apparating to the flat that Hestia and
Emmeline shared. When he appeared in their hallway, it was still empty and quiet, yet the silence
felt oppressive, shielding whatever must be going on within the flat from Remus’ ears.

The door was unlocked when he turned the knob—Tonks appearing behind him as he did so—and
swung it open to take in the scene. And as Remus watched it unfold before him, he had a fleeting
feeling of déjà vu that he knew didn’t belong to him, from a scene that he’d only heard about rather
than witnessed. Still, it was strong, the picture of Hestia holding the limp body of another woman
in her arms, shaking and sobbing as she begged Emmeline Vance to wake up.

Perhaps Remus had absorbed some of the scene from Sirius’ haunted eyes fifteen years before
when he’d come upon the same thing, but with Dorcas in Hestia’s arms instead of Emmeline. Still,
Remus couldn’t have imagined how truly horrible it’d been, and some part of him knew that this
time, it was more bloody than the last. Or perhaps it was just the haunted look in Hestia’s eyes as
she looked up at him when he reached her, the look that told him that she was praying that this was
all a nightmare, that she’d wake up safely in bed and that Emmeline would be just a wall away,
sleeping soundly. There was no waking from this, however.

Many people crowded into the flat after them, Order members and Aurors alike. Tonks spoke to the
people around them, seeming to take partial charge of the situation, while Remus stayed with
Hestia and with Emmeline on the floor. Hestia spoke to no one and had a blank gaze that looked
straight ahead, as if she wasn’t truly there at all. Even when Dumbledore put a hand gently on her
shoulder and asked her in his usual measured voice if she could tell them what’d happened, she
didn’t move, didn’t speak. Still, as the headmaster finally moved away, Remus saw her eyes
refocus for a moment to follow him, and there was anger in her gaze. Then, they flickered to
Remus.

“She knew,” Hestia said in a voice that was barely a whisper, and Remus thought she might be
seeing something more than him, something bigger, a lost and hazy look in her eyes. “Why didn’t I
know?” Her voice shook and then broke, and she let out a slight sob. “How do I always know
everything except when it matters? How are those the only things that slip through?”

She shook her head and lowered it to gaze down at the woman’s body she was still holding, which
no one had dared to take away from her yet. A tear fell from her cheek to Emmeline’s, falling there
next to a drop of blood. Hestia reached down carefully and wiped both the blood and the tear away
in one, then reached up to close Emmeline’s eyes, the soft brown gaze gone forever. She shook her
head and looked up at Remus, her gaze more focused now.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she whispered. “I can’t lose anything else.”

Remus knew what that meant, how it felt. He knew what it felt like to lose the one thing he thought
he’d gotten back, as if Sirius had been a gift from the universe in return for his earlier losses. That
gift had been snatched away in turn, and it’d been snatched away with such rapidity that it’d made
his head spin and dropped him into such a state of shock and grief that he hadn’t been able to
escape it for the past month. He wondered if Hestia felt the same, as Emmeline had been one of the
only friends she’d had left after what’d happened in 1981, and her best friend to boot.

After that night, after losing another of the dwindling number of people who Remus had known
when he’d been a child, he’d been dropped into the role of caretaker, though up until that point
he’d only been the one cared for. He found it helped him deal with his grief, however, helped him
wake up from the haze he’d been in ever since Sirius’ death. It wasn’t as if he had to find a job
anymore, not with Sirius unceremoniously dropping thousands of galleons into his Gringotts vault
before his death without a word, and Remus’ duties with the werewolves didn’t take up the whole
of his time. He’d spent much of it before Sirius’ death with the other man, and now he spent it
looking after Hestia.

It’d taken her a few more days, after everything that’d happened, to tell the story, which Remus had
relayed to Dumbledore. There wasn’t much to tell, really, just that Hestia had received the message
of alarm that activated if ever someone broke into their flat and rushed back from St. Mungo’s to
find Emmeline on the floor, not quite cold but already past saving. From the scene, Remus
deduced that Emmeline had likely been tortured for information before she’d been killed.

“It wasn’t like finding Dorcas,” Hestia had told him hollowly. “With Dorcas, it was as if she
could’ve been sleeping.”

Remus hadn’t asked anything further of her. He didn’t ask for details, but she gave them voluntarily
at random over time, like they’d been at the tip of her tongue and if she left them there, they might
consume her. She knew he’d tell Dumbledore what was important and keep the rest to himself, and
she didn’t seem to care as long as she didn’t have to speak to the headmaster herself.

“What I told him before didn’t help Dorcas,” she said. “It didn’t save Lily, or James, or Sirius. I’m
tired of hoping I can trust him, then losing people. I’m tired of it.”

Remus, for his own part, hadn’t been able to help thinking back to Emmeline’s words to him the
week before she’d died, the angry gleam in her eyes as she’d spoken about Snape, and his quest to
gain credibility among the Death Eaters. Maybe he now had.

The weeks bled into months as Remus found a new pattern for his life in the way that he survived
it all. He spent days and sometimes weeks with the werewolves, resurfacing to share news and
check on the people left behind. He didn’t avoid his grief, but he plodded through it, finding solace
in the blank expressions and occasional, unfocused looks that he saw on Hestia’s and Tonks’ faces.
There was something about a shared knowledge that none of them were alright with what had
happened to them that was comforting.

Remus didn’t know how to keep his promise to Sirius about looking after Harry. It was the thing
that nagged at him in the minutes or hours before he fell asleep, when he lay awake in bed staring
at the ceiling, still missing the warmth of the person who’d lain beside him with a physical ache.

A part of him hated himself for it, the way that he hadn’t been able to reach out. He’d spent many
years wishing he could fulfill his promise to Lily and James, after all, and not been able to, and
now it was as if he was choosing not to. Of course, he still kept tabs on Harry, made sure he was
safe, and drank in news from Dumbledore and the Weasleys about his wellbeing, but he never
knew what words to put to paper whenever he tried to write to him. Sirius had been so good at it,
after all, so good at being the parental figure Harry so clearly needed, yet Remus just felt lost.

But what business did Remus have feeling lost when the world was crashing down around him?
What business did he have trying to figure out how to get through each day one by one when at one
point, there was an abrupt drop, when again the carpet was tugged out from under him, and there
was another loss? He expected them now, but each one was a blow, and he’d never expected the
next to be Dumbledore, and even more than that, never expected it to happen how it had.

Standing in the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts, more than a year after he’d lost Sirius, the survivors of
a battle none of them had expected around him, Remus felt the shock wash over him like the caress
of a familiar hand. Again, he tried to make sense of a world that’d been turned on its head, as he
looked down at the face of a man—a boy, really—who’d been torn apart by the monster who’d
done the same to Remus as a child.

“Remus?” came a soft voice at his side, and he looked down to see Tonks, a hand on his shoulder
with a concerned expression on her face. “Are you alright?” he asked Remus.

At that moment, there was something in Tonks’ voice and face, something that’d always struck
Remus, but never quite as much as this moment, that felt like Sirius was staring back at him. And
there, in the background, was another person declaring that they didn’t care what’d happened to the
boy in the bed, didn’t care what he would or wouldn’t become, that it made no difference, and all
Remus could think about was that group of twelve-year-old boys in the upstairs dormitory, so close
and yet so far away, and Sirius with a stubborn look on his face as he’d declared that Remus wasn’t
a monster.

“It’s going to be alright,” Tonks said, apparently not needing Remus’ response to know the turmoil
in his mind. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll make it through, alright?”
Remus shook his head, closing his eyes briefly and wishing that Sirius was there, that they all
were. He wished for James and for Lily, for Emmeline and Mary and Dorcas and Marlene, and
even for Peter. He wished that the people who’d told him first that he wasn’t a monster were there
that day still to fight with him, that he didn’t feel so alone, and more by the day. Still, when he
opened his eyes, he found Tonks there, steady and looking back at him. He took a deep breath.

Something in Tonks’ gaze flickered, and she glanced from him to Bill and Fleur and back,
something like understanding and sadness dawning in her eyes. He gave Remus a small nod, a
sympathetic furrow between his eyebrows, and Remus felt like crying. Tonks reached up and
wrapped him in a hug, and Remus clung to her, not caring as a few tears slid into her shirt, or that
Mrs. Weasley was watching them with interest in her gaze. The best part of it, Remus thought, was
that Tonks knew that who Remus needed in this moment was Sirius, and he didn’t resent Remus
for it in the slightest but allowed it.

....

They spoke about it later, after the dust had settled—as much as it ever settled these days. Sitting
alone in Remus’ flat one day in early July, the sun low in the sky, both of them nursed a glass of
firewhiskey as they tried to make sense of their new reality together.

That was when Tonks told Remus: “I don’t mind that I remind you of him, you know. You don’t
need to worry.”

Remus looked over at him, at the way the low light illuminated Tonks’ face, the shadows that
crossed it, and saw Sirius sitting in the same place, looking out of the windows in the same haunted
way, which he’d done many times in the few short weeks he’d stayed there before they’d moved to
Grimmauld Place.

“Why not?” Remus asked. A part of him felt guilty at the way he sometimes looked at Tonks and
saw Sirius.

Tonks looked over at him and gave a shrug and a smile. “You loved him, and I loved him,” he
answered simply. “In different ways, obviously, but if it comforts you, why should I mind? We’re
both grieving him, after all.”

Remus nodded, meeting her gaze with a searching look for a moment before nodding. “I miss him
so much,” he said quietly, looking down into his glass of firewhiskey, then taking another slow sip.
Remus saw Tonks nod in the periphery of his vision, and when he looked back at him, he wasn’t
surprised to see tears in Tonks’ eyes.

“Me too,” she said. “I missed him for so long when I was a kid, when I didn’t even understand
what was happening. Then I found him again and lost him again, too.”

Remus thought of Hestia again, and how the three of them had all lost people in that same way:
with the feeling of relief due to a reprieve that only made the pain worse when the reprieve turned
out to only delay the inevitable. Tonks had lost her uncle, Hestia had lost her best friend, and
Remus had lost his…he’d lost Sirius.

Later that evening, when both of their drinks had been finished and set aside on the coffee table,
Remus didn’t know who moved closer first. He wasn’t sure if it was Tonks who put his hand on
Remus’ arm, or if it was Remus who reached out to grasp Tonks’ waist first. He didn’t know who
leaned forward to brush their lips together, or who removed which item of clothing, only that at the
end of it all, they pressed together with slow deliberateness, a contact that made him feel less alone
at that moment, at least.
Afterward, it was Tonks who began to dress first, sitting up on the couch and pulling a shirt over
his bare chest, searching for the rest of her clothes in the pile that’d accumulated beside them.
Remus sat up next to him, slowly dressing, too, as his mind worked over what had just happened.

“I’d never done that kind of thing before,” he admitted to Tonks as she buttoned up her trousers,
standing over him and running a hand through her spiky hair.

He looked down at Remus, gaze refocusing for a moment, and an amused smile passed over his
face, seeming to understand what Remus was fumbling over saying.

“You don’t need to have a crisis about it,” he said. “The way I see it, I’m just as much a man as
I’m a woman, or any other gender, for that matter. It’s like…anyone of any sexuality can be
attracted to me. I’m universal.” Tonks gave a mischievous little smirk at that, which made Remus
laugh.

“And you?” Remus asked, thinking back to all their conversations in the basement of Grimmauld
Place, which felt like a lifetime ago. “Are you attracted to every gender, too?”

Tonks shrugged. “I’ve slept with men, with women, and with people who aren’t either, or are sort
of both, like me,” she said. “I’ve had relationships with an array of people. It doesn’t bother me,
really, but I don’t think there’s a word quite yet for who I am or who I’m attracted to. Maybe
someday there will be, but not now. I’m not that concerned about it.”

Remus nodded, feeling as if he understood just about as much as he could. Still, Tonks’ words
settled something within him, a kind of anxious question that reminded him of being a teenager
again, trying to figure himself and everyone around him out, and wondering if he’d made it all up
in his head.

Tonks looked at him for a moment, raising her eyebrows in a tentative question. “We’re still
friends, right?” he asked. “I hope this doesn’t change anything for you. We can talk about it if you
want, but it was just a moment. Not a big deal.”

Remus nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Just a bit of comfort. I—well…thank you.”

Tonks burst into laughter, cheeks flushed still and letting out peals of mirth, her head thrown back.
“Thank you , he says,” Tonks said once he’d subdued his giggles. “Merlin, Remus, please don’t
tell me that that’s how you end all sexual encounters.”

Remus grinned too, laughing a little bit at himself. “It isn’t usually,” he assured Tonks. Tonks
nodded, shaking her head, still grinning.

“Good,” she said. “If that were the case, I’d have more to teach you than I thought.”

He left with a wink, bidding Remus a happy goodbye from the door, and Remus was glad that it
was good and normal between them. It hadn’t been something he’d expected, nor something he
thought should really happen again, but all the same, it’d been a moment of comfort for them both
in a time of need, and he was glad of it.

....

A month and a half later, however, after they’d survived two more battles and had time to breathe,
Tonks turned to Remus on another evening when they sat in his flat alone with a serious expression
on his face that was tinged with a slight, sheepish smile, and said: “You remember when we had
sex that one time, and I said we didn’t have to talk about it because it was just a moment?”
Remus’ eyebrows furrowed as he sat up straight and looked back at her, attention officially peaked.
“What about it?” he asked.

Tonks pulled a slight grimace and shrugged his shoulders.

“We kind of have to talk about it now,” she said. “Since I’m almost positive that I’m pregnant.”

Remus’ eyes widened, and his heartbeat started a frantic thrum against his sternum. There was a
long moment of silence, where Tonks looked at Remus and Remus stared right back at him, the
only sound the blood rushing in his ears.

“You’re…what?” he asked finally, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears.

Tonks looked steadily back at him. “I think you heard me, Remus,” she replied. “I know this is…a
lot.”

Remus stood up from the couch, a nervous thrum going through his veins, unsure of what he’d
planned to do for a moment, then beginning to pace. A million and one things raced through his
mind, which all seemed to be accompanied by a high-pitched ringing sound.

“But…we used protection,” Remus insisted, turning back to Tonks, who seemed to be waiting
patiently for him to stop having a mental breakdown from where he was still sitting on the couch.
Tonks shrugged.

“Condoms don’t always work,” Tonks said, giving him a look that Remus thought said something
along the lines of: I can see that the lack of Hogwarts sex education classes really worked out well
for you.

Remus sighed, pressing his palms into his eyes. Of course, he knew that condoms didn’t always
work, and he didn’t rely upon them to protect him. It was just that getting routinely tested for HIV
was usually the only thing Remus had had to think about before, given the fact that all the sexual
partners he’d ever had in the past didn’t have the physical capacity to become pregnant, at least as
far as he’d known.

“I know this is a lot, Remus,” Tonks said again, and Remus removed his palms from his eyes,
blinking away the little stars that had popped into his vision as he refocused on him. Tonks had a
slightly nervous but determined look on her face. “I haven’t fully figured out what I want to do yet,
I’m still considering my options, but I thought you should know, and if you have any thoughts, feel
free to share them.” There was a sardonic note in his tone, though he was still looking at Remus
steadily.

Remus shook his head, swallowing before he could find his voice again. “It’s—it’s your choice,”
he croaked out, though he knew that he wasn’t doing anything to conceal the panic in his voice. “I
mean…you should decide, right? It’s not…not for me to—”

“I know it’s my choice,” Tonks said, rolling her eyes briefly. “But you’re involved, so any input
you have, I’d appreciate it.”

Remus opened his mouth, then closed it again. There was a rushing sound in his ears, and he felt as
if something was closing in on him. “If you went through with having the baby, it could be—” He
swallowed, trying to retain some semblance of logic and steadiness to his voice. “—like me,” he
finished.

“Well, that’s how genetics work, as far as I’m aware,” Tonks quipped, a slight smile on his face,
but the expression fell as his eyes flicked back and forth between Remus’, the true meaning of
Remus’ words landing.

“Oh,” Tonks said quietly, letting out a breath. “You mean it could be a werewolf.”

Remus nodded, his eyes flicking away from hers toward the floor. He thought of his early
transformations when he’d been only a child, how he remembered little except pain and screaming,
crying for his parents, who’d been just outside the cellar door sometimes, but who couldn’t have
helped him. He remembered the night he’d been bitten, those glowing eyes through his window
before the glass had shattered and the teeth sunk into his thigh. He’d sworn to himself that he’d
never be that monster, never turn another human. And yet…

“Remus? Remus , are you alright?” Tonks’ voice seemed to come from a distance, growing softer
and louder and softer again.

Remus hadn’t registered that he was hyperventilating until then, hadn’t realized that his breath was
coming out in rapid pants until he felt Tonks’ hands on him, one on his forearm and another on his
shoulder. She was trying to look into his eyes, trying to tell him to match her breathing, but he
couldn’t. There were black spots in his vision, and his hands were tingling with pins and needles.
His mouth was dry.

Remus felt Tonks guide him to the floor, felt him move Remus so that his back was leaning against
the couch, Tonks’ hands leaving his body for a space of time that he couldn’t quantify. When she
returned, Remus felt her shove something cold into Remus’ hand, and he flinched slightly at the
sensation. Still, it seemed to help, to focus on the cold and tingle of pain in his palm, as well as on
Tonks’ hand, which was also cold, gripping Remus’ other hand. Slowly, Remus came back to
himself, and when he did, he found Tonks’ brown eyes focused on him.

Remus looked down to see the remnants of what must’ve been a melted ice cube in his palm, and
then back to her. “Th—thanks,” he said, his voice shaky.

Tonks nodded, his eyes large and concerned. “No problem,” he replied. “Holding something cold
helps me if something like this happens. It calms the nervous system, I think.”

“That’s smart,” Remus said with a shaky smile.

For some reason, it made him think of Lily, and how she’d held him in their seventh year, when
he’d felt then like he’d been going insane, trying to figure out who he was and what it all meant.
Now, in the grand scheme of things, Remus felt like the seventeen-year-old version of himself had
gotten off very easy.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, shaking himself out of memories and looking back at Tonks. “Fuck,
I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be the one falling apart right now.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Remus,” Tonks said.

He stood, then offered a hand to help Remus up, too, which he gratefully accepted, hand still
slightly slippery from the cold water, allowing Tonks to help him to sit on the couch again, and
handed him a glass of water, which he gratefully drank from.

“Can I guess from your reaction that you never planned on being a parent?” Tonks asked
tentatively after a moment.

Remus sighed and shook his head. “In another life, I thought about it once or twice,” he admitted.
Another memory came to him, of Sirius laughingly telling him of the new idea that Marlene was
pushing, of having a family when the war was well in their rear-view mirrors and they were older.
 “She says that me and you and her and Dorcas should just all have a kid together,” Sirius had
recounted, a fond smile on his face. “But apparently, she doesn’t trust me to be the biological
father. She wants some superstar child, with your and Dee’s genetics.”

What had followed had been a long talk, which had felt almost like an argument at some points, but
which had ended with Sirius climbing into Remus’ lap to straddle him and press kisses all over his
face and neck, demanding that Remus say that he’d be a good father as Remus laughed helplessly
underneath him.

“And in this one?” Tonks asked, gaze trained on Remus’ face, her expression very serious.

Remus swallowed the tears that seemed to have collected in his throat and shook his head. “I—I
don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t know if I can. And if the baby is—is like me…” His voice
shook slightly, and he took a few deep breaths before continuing, determined not to fall into panic
again. “...I don’t know if I’d ever be able to forgive myself.”

Tonks nodded, gaze still steady on his face. He took a few moments, apparently thinking, then
asked: “And if I want to keep the baby?”

Remus looked back at her, a deep sadness welling up in him. It wasn’t his choice and he knew it. It
was Tonks’ choice, and it was beyond his control. “I—I need time,” he said finally. “Time to think.
Is that alright?”

Tonks nodded, though his face fell slightly even as he did so, and Remus knew that there was
disappointment there. Remus felt it for himself, too, the disappointment that he couldn’t just say
the right thing, do the right thing.

“Yeah, you can have time, Remus,” Tonks replied finally, looking away from him and around at
the flat, and Remus knew that she didn’t want to look at him at that moment, perhaps couldn’t bear
to.

Remus felt a wave of shame rise up in him. He didn’t blame Tonks in the slightest.

Chapter End Notes

Okay, for the record I absolutely know that Tonks knowing that he’s pregnant only a
month after she and Remus have sex is unrealistic (like, it can happen but usually
people realize later), but that’s unfortunately the timeline that I was given. (Teddy is
born sometime in April, meaning he was conceived around early July, Remus tells
Harry, Hermione, and Ron that Tonks is pregnant in early August, soon after Bill and
Fleur’s wedding.)

Also, I think every nonbinary person probably feels slightly different about this, but
while some may feel invalidated by having a straight, gay, or lesbian person attracted
to them, others are not, and may feel like anyone can be attracted to them, or feel like
having some people of some sexualities attracted to them and not others is
validating/invalidating. From my experience, it’s a personal thing, but I think that to
say that a gay man can’t be attracted to a nonbinary person and still be gay is a very
narrow view of the world. Tonks is comfy with Remus being attracted to them and
identifying as gay, and Remus still feels like he’s gay and not bi and this is VALID.
Honestly, I think it’s dumb how there’s so much discourse about nonbinary inclusion
in the lesbian community and so little that I’ve seen about nonbinary inclusion in the
gay community. To me, it reeks of the idea that nonbinary is "woman-lite." But
anyway, I’m genderfluid and nonbinary and personally, I feel comfy with the idea of
anyone being attracted to me and it not invalidating whatever their sexuality is.
Identity is kinda funky that way, y’all. We just gotta roll with it.

This chapter really has everything: the aftermath of Emmeline’s death, Dumbledore’s
death, me rewriting the HP canon for gayer and better purposes, an unplanned
pregnancy, tips on how to get through a panic attack, and Remus’ parental identity
crisis. lol.
 1997-1998: Teddy
Chapter Notes

cw: major character death (not depicted), non-major character death, childbirth

See the end of the chapter for more notes

It took three weeks for Remus to figure it all out, to pull himself together and muster up his
courage, to push away his shame and talk to Tonks again. Part of it had been Harry’s words, of
course. Every time Remus thought of them he felt his stomach lurch, a wave of self-hatred
threatening to take him over. Harry had been right about all of it. He’d been right when he’d
accused Remus of trying to do the reckless thing, trying to step into Sirius’ shoes, trying to be the
martyr instead of facing the things he was really scared of.

And yet when Harry had talked about how ashamed James would’ve been of Remus at that
moment, Remus hadn’t been able to see it. No, he hadn’t seen James in Harry’s righteous anger,
none of his old friend in Harry’s blazing eyes and face set with determination. That speech, those
words which had been designed to land exactly right—that had been all Lily. Remus had
remembered—hours later when the rage had faded and shame had crept into its place—the
conversation Sirius had told him about when they’d spent hours and days rehashing the past, trying
to put the things to rest between them that they should’ve years ago.

He remembered the faraway look in Sirius’ eyes when he’d told him about Lily’s anger in the face
of Sirius’ fear that Remus was the spy, in the face of his request to them to not tell Remus of the
new plan. Sirius had relayed the words to Remus as if they’d been said to him just minutes earlier,
and Remus had learned to recognize the way he said them, the look on his face as he did so, as
something that’d been repeating over and over again in Sirius’ head, something that’d haunted him
for years in a cell that’d been partly of his own creation.

Remus knew the way they’d struck, sharp, right in the place where they’d been aimed. He knew
the way that Lily had seen right through Sirius to his core, how she’d seen past all the pretenses to
the real truth underneath, to the fear and the shame there. Harry had inherited at least some of that
talent, it seemed. He’d seen Remus, just as Lily had seen Sirius so many years before, and perhaps
back then it hadn’t solved anything, perhaps Sirius had still waited too long, but Remus told
himself that he wouldn’t make the same mistake. He couldn’t.

So in mid-August, Remus showed up on the porch of Tonks’ parents’ house, shivering despite the
unseasonable heat of the day as fear and shame chilled him to the bone. All he could do was wait
on the doorstep, hoping against hope that the people inside wouldn’t hate him as much as he
thought they rightly should.

It took several minutes for anyone to answer the door, and when they did, Remus was both relieved
and overwhelmed by a wave of nerves as he saw Tonks’ brown eyes peering out at him from a
crack in the door, his wand extended ahead of him. Remus raised his hands in a peaceful gesture,
and Tonks narrowed her eyes at him for a moment before speaking.

“What was the first thing I said to you when we spoke alone for the first time?” Tonks asked after
a moment, and Remus had to smile at the memory of their silent lift ride down from the flat before
Tonks had glanced over at Remus and said, after giving him a quick once-over: “I suppose if for
nothing else, I should give Sirius credit for his taste.”

“You said that Sirius had good taste,” Remus said, shaking his head in amusement as he
remembered how his eyes had widened at that moment, and he’d turned an alarming shade of red,
glancing over at Tonks in embarrassment and seeing her crack her first smile since stepping into
the flat, then dissolve into peals of laughter.

Tonks stared at him for a moment, then allowed a small smile to play across his own lips and
lowered his wand. “And I stand by that,” he said, shoving his wand back into his pocket and
opening the door wider.

Remus took in Tonks’ appearance as she stood in the doorway, crossing her arms as she looked
back at him, one eyebrow raised challengingly in an expression that made him think of Sirius. He
blinked away the vision, focusing on Tonks again.

“What’re you doing here, Remus?” Tonks asked, his voice sounding tired. There were circles
under her eyes, and her hair was brown at the roots again. The color underneath always crept in
when she was tired or overwhelmed, Remus knew, and he felt another surge of guilt.

“I’d like to talk,” he said, giving a small shrug. “I—I’m sorry for before. For disappearing.”

Tonks gave him an appraising look, then sighed and uncrossed his arms. She gave a jerk of her
head that indicated that Remus should come inside, and he complied immediately, hurrying in and
closing the door behind him. He glanced around as he stepped inside, nervous to see whether
Andromeda or Ted were around. He’d never met Tonks’ father, and though he’d heard Sirius talk
about Andromeda on numerous occasions, he’d only met her a handful of times, too. Still, if Tonks
had told her parents anything about the situation regarding the pregnancy yet, Remus wasn’t
hopeful enough to expect them to be welcoming.

“They’re out in the garden,” Tonks replied to his unspoken question, no doubt catching his nervous
look around.

Remus nodded, feeling suddenly like a teenager, afraid of facing parents who were, humiliatingly,
less than a decade older than him. He tried not to think about that, as it made him feel slightly
dirty.

Tonks only gave Remus a slightly amused quirk of his eyebrow, then turned to lead him down a
corridor and into a room that had obviously been Tonks’ childhood bedroom. There was a poster of
the Weird Sisters on the wall next to one of the Holyhead Harpies, and next to the mirror, Remus
could see a set of moving photos that depicted a teenage Tonks laughing with a red-haired man
who he thought might be a Weasley. Remus tore his eyes away from the walls when Tonks shut
the door behind him, then moved to sit on the bed, looking up at Remus expectantly.

“Do your parents know about—about everything?” Remus asked lamely after a moment, his brain
going suddenly blank in the face of Tonks’ open gaze on him.

Tonks shrugged. “Depends on what you mean by everything,” she said. “I’ve given them the gist
of the situation. I told them that I’m pregnant, and the way that I kept trying to contact you and you
never responded gave them the rest, I think.”

Remus swallowed, nodding. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice low.

Tonks shrugged. “You’re here now,” he said. “Have you thought about it, then? Had enough
time?”
There was a slight edge to his voice, one which Remus had expected and took in stride. She’d
promised him time, of course, but Remus had said nothing about completely falling off the grid for
that time, not a message to tell Tonks whether he was alive or dead. Remus thought again with
shame about his offer to Harry, Hermione, and Ron, to accompany them on their mission for
Dumbledore. If they’d accepted, he’d have left without saying goodbye. He was glad that they
hadn’t.

“Too much time, I think,” Remus replied finally, heaving out a sigh as he sat across from Tonks on
the bed. “All I did was let myself be a coward, even after I knew what the right thing to do was.”

A crease formed between Tonks’ brows as he looked across at Remus, and he shook his head,
looking away for a moment before looking back at him, a frown upon his face.

“Don’t do that,” she said. “Don’t come back if you’re just doing it because you think you should. I
don’t want you here if you’re going to resent me for it, Remus.”

Remus stared at him for a moment, then shook his head. “That’s not why I’m here, Tonks,” he
said. “I swear.”

Tonks raised his eyebrows at Remus, prompting him to continue. As Remus seemed to not be able
to find the words quite yet, she prompted him further. “So why are you?”

Remus paused for another moment, then shook his head. “I’m not sure exactly how to say it,” he
replied honestly. “I’ve spent so much of my life thinking that certain things weren’t possible for
me, I suppose, that I never bothered to consider whether I wanted them or not. Then, when I’m
faced with the possibility that I could have them, I—” He broke off, shook his head, and gave a
small smile. “I suppose I just shut down a bit.”

Remus gave Tonks an apologetic shrug, and he looked back at Remus with an expression that was
unreadable, but Remus knew from the way that his eyes were still slightly narrowed that Tonks
was listening closely. Remus sighed, thinking back to all those years at school again, about the
boys who’d shown him that he could have more than he’d ever thought possible.

“After I was bitten as a child, my parents were terrified, especially my dad,” Remus explained. “My
dad was so scared that people would find out what I was that he moved us to a different town. We
cut ties with any family we had, and we didn’t know anyone. Until I was eleven and got to
Hogwarts, I had no friends at all, and I never thought that I could have them in the future, either.
That was what had been drilled into me: to keep my secret above all else.”

Remus sighed and rubbed his hand over his face, feeling the slight ridges of the scars that crossed
his skin there. It was difficult to talk about this, even so many years later, even after he’d processed
it and knew the truth of it all, now. There was still a pang of resentment there, too, an anger that he
knew might never fade, which he didn’t entirely think needed to. Much had improved between him
and his father in his adult years, but some things might never be fully forgiven. That was alright.

“When I got to Hogwarts,” he continued. “I met James, Sirius, and Peter. In the beginning, I tried to
keep them at an arm’s length, and even though I really liked having them around, another part of
me just wanted them to leave me alone.”

He smiled, remembering the boys as they’d been, James, especially, with his stubborn streak and
refusal to let Remus isolate himself.

“Of course, they wouldn’t have any of that, and eventually, they learned my secret, too,” he said. “I
was terrified. I thought I’d have to leave Hogwarts, that they’d expose me and have me expelled,
but they just told me to stop being dramatic and decided to become Animagi to keep me company
on full moons instead. They made things possible that I’d never thought could be before.”

He shook his head and cracked a smile, Tonks smiling slightly at the words, too, as she listened
raptly to the story unfold. Remus had never told him any of this before, and he could tell that
Tonks wasn’t exactly sure where it was going, or why it was relevant, but he seemed interested
nonetheless.

“Later on,” Remus said after a moment’s pause, looking down at his hands as he spoke to avoid
Tonks’ eye. “When I started to register the fact that I liked blokes, I refused to even think about it.
It wasn’t just about being gay. Part of me just never thought I could be with anyone, so I decided
there wasn’t a point in even thinking about who I would be with if I could. I thought that there was
no way to be with anyone and keep my secret from them, so I shouldn’t be. Sirius proved me wrong
on that account, too.”

He looked up at Tonks and found a look of dawning understanding on Tonks’ heart-shaped face.
He looked at Remus with sadness in his brown eyes, and Remus swallowed before finishing the
point of the story.

“I’d barely even considered being a parent before now,” he admitted. “I didn’t bother to think
about it, didn’t bother to want it, because I thought that the risk would be too great, and because I
was too scared to think about passing down the werewolf gene. I didn’t want to be responsible for
someone living as I do, ever . But I—” Remus broke off, a lump forming in his throat as he looked
at Tonks, searching her face.

“I think I might’ve realized how much I actually want it,” he admitted.

An image of Sirius popped into Remus’ head, dancing around the sitting room of the Potters’
house, from what seemed like a million years ago, baby Harry cradled in his arms as he sang softly
to him. Remus had captured that moment in his memory forever, not just as a memory of the past,
but a picture of the future he might’ve had if things had gone differently, a future he’d barely
allowed himself to dream of at the time, which he’d locked away firmly behind a concrete door
ever since.

Remus swallowed the tears that threatened to fall at the memory and finished his thought. “And
that might’ve scared me even more. So it took me a while to—to figure out how to work up the
courage to come back and admit it.”

He finished his little speech looking intently at Tonks, trying to read his expression as he gazed
back at Remus, brows slightly furrowed, scanning Remus’ face as if searching for something. She
seemed to find what she was looking for after a moment, as her eyebrows relaxed and she sighed.

“I understand being afraid,” Tonks said. “I’m afraid, too, but I want to keep it. Still, if you’re
committing to this, you have to promise that if you get scared again, you won’t disappear. Can you
do that?”

Remus nodded, the movement a mix of eagerness and anxiety as he met Tonks’ gaze with every bit
of sincerity he could muster. “I won’t disappear,” he said. “I promise I won’t.” For a moment, he
couldn’t help but think of how few promises were able to be kept these days and added regretfully:
“If I have any choice in the matter.”

Tonks nodded, seeming to understand Remus’ addendum to the statement. “Alright,” she said.
“That’s good enough for me, then.”
Remus sat up straighter, a cautious smile blooming on his face. For some reason, he’d thought that
there might be more words said, more questions, more resentment before it was resolved.
“Really?” he asked.

Tonks let out a short laugh. “Really,” he replied. “I’m just glad you’re alive. You don’t know how
worried I was these last few weeks.”

She didn’t even allow his face to fall into guilt again before she was tugging him forward into a
hug. Remus hugged Tonks back, arms wrapping around his shoulders as Tonks wrapped his around
Remus’ waist and held him there, burying his face in Remus’ shoulder for a long moment. When
they finally pulled back, Remus smiled.

“I saw Harry,” he admitted, his voice hushed.

Tonks’ eyes widened, and her smile bloomed big and happy across her face. “You did?” he
demanded. “Is he alright? Is he with Ron and Hermione?”

Remus nodded. “Yeah, they’re all safe, last I saw them,” he confirmed.

“Good,” Tonks said. “That’s some good news in all of this, at least.”

Remus nodded, smiling. “Harry’s smart,” he said, thinking again of the words he’d spoken to
Remus in the kitchen of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. “He’ll survive this. I really believe
he’ll help us win, in the end.”

Tonks nodded, her eyes suddenly blazing with fierce certainty as well, with determination. “We’ll
win,” she said. “There’s no other option.”

....

Remus was surprised by how well Tonks’ parents accepted him into the house, letting him stay in
the guest room most nights, with the exception of the rare occasions he had to go out for missions.
He’d expected questions and demands for explanations, especially from Andromeda. He had, after
all, been her cousin’s partner, and now he was to be her grandchild’s parent, too. If Remus had
been in her shoes, he thought he might’ve given him a well-deserved slap, but she hadn’t.

Instead, when Tonks had taken him outside that first day to talk to his parents, Andromeda had
simply given him a long look, her grey eyes both familiar and foreign to him, before saying:
“You’d better be staying.”

And he had.

There weren’t many other places to go, anyway. These days, all the Order members were
sheltering in their respective safehouses. They’d learned their lesson from last time, after all, and
with the whole Ministry against them now, it was more dangerous than ever. They were all still
fighting, of course, but everything was undercover, everything careful. The numbers of the Death
Eaters had increased to the point that the Order could do little else than track their movements, try
to cast protection spells where they could, and spread information to those who wanted to help the
resistance.

Sometimes Remus was frustrated with the lack of things he could do, with being shut up in the
house for weeks at a time, but he reminded himself that there were far worse things, such as
pregnancy, for instance. Remus wasn’t sure if he’d forgotten the misery Lily had gone through in
her pregnancy with Harry, or if he just hadn’t been privy to the worst moments, but there were
many more than he’d realized.
“I swear to fucking God,” Tonks said one day as she clutched at her swollen stomach in February.
“If this little shit doesn’t stop kicking my bladder, I will cast Petrificus Totalus on my uterus.”

“I’m not sure that’s advisable,” Remus said, handing him a bar of chocolate with raspberries in it,
which he’d learned was Tonks’ favorite the previous year.

Tonks ripped the foil open and took a fierce bite, chewing angrily as he glared at Remus.

“I’m tired again,” he complained after he’d swallowed the chocolate. “I just took a nap. How can I
be tired again? Remus, I used to be an Auror.”

Remus frowned sympathetically, knowing that Tonks’ frustration wasn’t just with the tiredness or
the constant need to pee. On particularly bad nights, Tonks sometimes knocked on the door to the
guest room after tossing and turning for hours, asking if Remus was awake and if she could come
in. Sometimes, then, he’d end up lying on his side and looking at Remus with pain in his brown
eyes. In whispers, he’d admit to Remus that he hated the way his body felt sometimes these days.

“It doesn’t feel like mine,” she might say. “It feels like someone else’s, more than it usually does,
and I can’t change it like I usually do when it feels like that.”

Remus never knew how to reply. Sometimes, he’d tell her that she didn’t have to do this if she
didn’t want to, that she could always change her mind. Every time, Tonks would shake his head
fervently.

“I want this,” he’d say. “I just sometimes hate it, too.”

In the present, Remus stepped forward and reached to offer Tonks a tentative hug. Sometimes
Tonks didn’t want contact, these days, so he allowed him to accept the gesture or not. That day, she
seemed to want it, as she stepped forward into Remus’ arms and sighed, leaning her head on his
shoulder.

....

The days and months passed more slowly than Remus had remembered them doing during the first
war, when it’d been all action and fighting. The hiding took its toll on them all, as did the news
they received periodically. Six months after Ted Tonks had gone on the run, they got the news of
his body being found. That’d been one of the hardest days, when Andromeda had shut herself in
her room and Tonks had cried for hours while pacing around the sitting room, inconsolable, and
sometimes dipping into bouts of rage that sent things flying off shelves and to the floor.

It was the quiet that Tonks fell into afterward, though, that scared Remus the most. The silence was
always the worst part of grief. It followed the tears, followed screaming and anger and breaking
things, and waited for the next surge of emotion to hit. It was the quiet of death, the
acknowledgment of the hole that someone had left in your life when they were gone.

That quiet crept up on him, too, only a few days later. It was dark outside when he unfolded the
message he’d received from Bill, plucked from the beak of the owl which flew off immediately
after. It was in code, but Remus understood all he needed to as his eyes flitted over it, taking
everything in. He lowered it slowly to the counter, letting it fall from his limp fingers as he stared
outside at the midnight blue sky, covered in dark clouds.

Harry was safe, as were Ron and Hermione. For the time being, Voldemort had been thwarted in
his mission to capture them. And Peter…Peter was finally dead.

It took a long time for Remus to stop staring unseeingly ahead of him. It was Andromeda who
found him there, in the kitchen, as she stepped out of her room on soft feet with eyes swollen from
days of crying. She spoke words that fell on his deaf ears, and eventually lifted the paper to the
light herself to read the message there. Then, after a moment’s pause, what Remus guessed was
hesitation to touch him, she wrapped him in her arms, pulling his head to her shoulder and hugging
him. He stayed silent, wrapping his arms around her in return and allowing himself to feel young
for a moment. He wondered how many times she’d held Sirius like this.

Remus didn’t cry, not in her arms in that moment and not later, staring up at the ceiling of his
bedroom in silence. It wasn’t for lack of grief, however. Perhaps it was for too many years of grief,
too many years of missing Peter and thinking he was dead only to find out that he’d been alive the
whole time. Then, what’d followed had been a different sort of grief, grief for a person who’d died
but who wasn’t in the grave, because Peter had been lost to him either way. Because of this, Remus
felt a strange sense of relief now.

A part of him felt guilty over it, thinking of the boy Peter had been: one of his best friends, the boy
who’d laughed at their jokes and rolled his eyes at Sirius’ and James’ antics, who’d blushed to the
roots of his blond hair when Dorcas had given him even a quick glance in their third year. But that
boy had died long ago. That boy had been replaced by something new, and even if a small part of
him had still existed, Peter Pettigrew had become a man who’d gotten Dorcas killed with little
second thought, a man who’d stepped aside to allow Voldemort to murder Lily and James, and a
man who’d faked his death to blame the whole thing on Sirius, putting him behind bars for twelve
long years and leaving Remus alone with his grief. Remus thought that that version of Peter was
better off dead than being as he was—a perversion of the boy he’d been. It didn’t stop Remus from
grieving for him, however.

....

It was seven a.m. on a Thursday morning in April when Remus was awoken by a scream from the
next bedroom. He bolted upright immediately, which he was almost positive he’d never done in his
entire life at that early hour, and rushed to find out what was wrong. What he found in the other
bedroom was Tonks with her face screwed up and eyes closed, standing next to her bed with her
fists clenched tight.

“Tonks? Are you alright?” Remus asked, rushing to his side but resisting the urge to put a hand on
his forearm to steady him.

Tonks took a deep breath and opened her eyes, her fists still clenched so that her knuckles were
white. “Contraction,” he gritted out. “That one was worse than the others. Sorry, didn’t mean to
wake you.”

“Didn’t mean to—?” Remus began in blatant disbelief, staring at Tonks as Andromeda rushed into
the room behind him, her eyes wide. “How long have you been having contractions, Tonks?”
Remus demanded.

Tonks opened her eyes to look at him, and Remus now saw the exhaustion and pain in them. He
lifted a shoulder in a small shrug.

“I got woken up by them around one in the morning,” Tonks admitted. “I know this shit takes
forever, though. I wasn’t going to make a big deal until it was a big deal.”

Remus didn’t have time to protest that labor of any kind was almost by definition a big deal
because Tonks’ face had tensed again and he was letting out another sound of pain, his hand
shooting out to grab onto Remus’ forearm and squeezing tightly. Remus looked over at
Andromeda, ignoring the twinge in his arm in favor of the fear now coursing through him.
Andromeda met Remus’ gaze with a steady look, another that looked familiar and yet somehow
very different from Sirius’. She took in his no-doubt panicked expression and took control of the
situation, doing everything Remus couldn’t remember to do, now that the fear was banishing all the
things he’d read in a hundred books from his mind.

Tonks had been right, of course: it did take forever. It turned out that while Tonks had been having
mild contractions for hours, there were many more hours of it to endure. Remus helped in every
way he could, but in the end, he felt as helpless as he ever had. He wasn’t so used to witnessing
pain. He’d become more accustomed to others viewing his, accustomed to their sometimes helpful
but mostly frustrating responses. He knew, therefore, that telling Tonks that it’d be over soon, or
any other platitude, would probably not be appreciated. So instead, Remus let Tonks grip his hand
as hard as he wanted to, got him everything he asked for, and hoped that that was the right thing to
do.

It was early evening by the time that Remus and Tonks’ son was born, by the time he opened his
mouth and began to wail at the top of his lungs and Tonks began to cry from both joy and relief,
and Remus could only gape. Andromeda smiled wide as she handed the baby to Tonks, and Tonks
took him with tears still streaming down her face, her eyes all for the baby in her arms. Remus just
stared down at his son, eyes wide as he took in the dark hair plastered to his head, the tiny fingers
of his hand that splayed and contracted slightly as if he was trying to figure out how to use them.
Remus was quiet, in awe, and something swelled in his chest that he didn’t know what to do with.

Tonks looked up at Remus and gave him a wide grin.

“Looks like a Teddy, yeah?” he asked with a tinge of amusement in his voice.

Andromeda, on Tonks’ other side, put a hand to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears. Tonks
looked over at her mum and reached out, taking her hand in the one she wasn’t using to hold Teddy
to her chest. Andromeda didn’t speak but laced her fingers with Tonks’, and Remus saw a few tears
slide down her cheeks.

“Yeah,” Remus said, smiling, too. “He does.”

They had, of course, talked about this months before, and decided on the selection of names that
they might choose. If the baby had been a girl, they would’ve named her Hope.

It was a while later that Remus took Teddy from Tonks’ hands, when he offered to clean him up
while Andromeda got Tonks some water and did the same for her. Remus held his son for the first
time, feeling a combination of terror and overwhelming tenderness as he cradled his little head,
walking him over to the bathroom in the hall. There, he took a damp washcloth and wiped him
carefully, then put on a nappy and a little onesie that Andromeda had ordered from a catalog. This
one had a pattern of snitches on it.

Remus thought for a short time in the quiet moments as he bundled up his son and carried him back
out to Andromeda and Tonks that perhaps he wouldn’t be as bad at this as he’d feared.
Unfortunately, Teddy began to wail again right at that moment.

It was Andromeda who shushed him, who calmed both the baby and Remus, making sure to tell
him that no, it hadn’t been his fault, and yes, it was completely normal for a newborn to scream
bloody murder in a way that threatened to rupture all of their eardrums. Really, Remus scolded
himself later, he’d been around for much of Harry’s early months, and he should’ve known better
than to panic. Still, he’d done plenty of panicking when it’d been Harry, after all. It’d always been
Sirius who’d been the calm one, the one who always knew how to soothe his godson, which was
rather ironic given the fact that he’d often joked about never being held himself as a baby.
 Andromeda, it seemed, possessed the same knack for comforting children as her cousin had.
Remus thought it was strange, two children that had been raised with so little love, to have so much
to give, but perhaps it was precisely because of that. She rocked baby Teddy in her arms,
whispering soothing things into the baby’s ear. Her gaze came up to meet Remus’, and she smiled
as he watched her with wide eyes, her grey ones large and familiar, yet still somehow foreign.

“You’ll learn to do this yourself in no time,” she said, and he nodded. He believed her.

When Remus finally felt like he could tear his gaze away from Teddy, felt like he wouldn’t
disappear if he turned his back, Remus went to Shell Cottage to share the news. He felt as if he
knew now what it’d been like to be James that day so long ago when he’d knocked so joyfully on
the door of their flat to bring them the news of Harry’s birth. Now, when he entered Shell Cottage
and looked around, it was the boy in question who looked back at him with anxiety on his face, as
Remus blurted out:

“It’s a boy! We’ve named him Ted, after Tonks’ father!”

Chapter End Notes

The last two chapters will be coming out tomorrow and Monday. It’s genuinely been a
grieving process for me, thinking about finishing this story after so long. I hope you all
will be satisfied with the ending.
 1998: By the Lake
Chapter Notes

cw: major character death, graphic depictions of violence

See the end of the chapter for more notes

It was the day after Teddy’s birth that Remus went to visit his father in Wales and Lyall came to
meet his grandson for the first time. Remus had been hesitant at first about telling his father about
Tonks’ pregnancy and the baby. There had been a part of him that had a hard time remembering the
years, remembering all the steps his father had taken to make amends and all the ways that they’d
grown closer, and was just afraid. He’d been afraid that his father would yell at him, would tell him
off for being stupid and reckless, and remind him again that he wasn’t like everyone else, that he
couldn’t afford to make mistakes.

When he’d told Lyall in December, however, after his father had prodded gently several times to
see why Remus had spent the past months living with Tonks and Andromeda, his father had just
stared at him for a moment as he took the information in. Then, he’d reached across to the arm of
Remus’ chair and put his hand on his. When Remus had looked up, Lyall had smiled and pulled
Remus into a hug, Remus’ face pressing into the shoulder of his father’s sweater, making him feel
very young again. He was feeling like that a lot these days.

So when Remus handed Lyall his son for the first time and Lyall adjusted Teddy in his arms,
Remus felt a combination of relief and the urge to burst into tears as his father’s worn face broke
into a sunny smile. He began to hum a clumsy melody, one Remus remembered from his own
childhood, which his mother had always sung to him in Welsh before bedtime. He remembered,
too, her humming it after all words had been spoken, just before she’d breathed her last breath.
Remus had to wipe his eyes and look away for a moment at that memory.

“He’s got your eyes,” Lyall said after a moment, looking up at Remus and smiling.

Remus smiled sheepishly in return, deciding not to point out that if Teddy did indeed grow up to
have blue eyes, they’d be as much like Lyall’s as Remus’.

“They might change after a while,” Remus said. “Most babies have blue eyes when they’re born,
right?”

Lyall hummed in agreement and laughed to see Teddy give a small sneeze, his hair turning from
brown to bright turquoise as he did so. “Does he do that often?”

Remus smiled down at Teddy fondly, stroking a hand over the tuft of turquoise hair. “All the
time,” he said as it slowly faded back to brown when Teddy’s eyes fell shut, beginning to doze off.
“So far it’s only the hair color that he’s changing, but based on what Andromeda’s said about
Tonks as a baby, he’ll probably graduate from that to other things in the next few months.”

Lyall smiled down in amusement at the sleeping baby. “Magic really is funny sometimes,” he
remarked.

Remus nodded, but the comment made him think about a fear that’d been nagging him consistently
ever since the previous day, which he’d been trying to push to the back of his mind for the past
months of waiting, and which was now making itself known once more.

“Full moon tomorrow night,” Remus said, trying for an off-hand tone, but when Lyall’s eyes
snapped up to his, he knew he’d failed.

Lyall held his gaze for a moment then nodded slowly. “Yes, it is,” Lyall replied when the silence
proved that Remus wouldn’t be able to elaborate.

Remus swallowed and nodded, mostly because he wasn’t sure what else to do. His father looked at
him expectantly for a few moments of silence, as Remus looked down at his hands, tracing a scar
on the back of one of them with his finger absentmindedly.

“Andromeda’s made the Wolfsbane Potion for me like always,” he said, still not looking up at his
father.

Andromeda had been brewing it for Remus since he’d been staying at the house, as Hestia was no
longer able to provide him a supply from St. Mungo’s, and Andromeda had waved away all his
protests about the cost or trouble.

“Potions were my best subject in school,” she’d told him firmly. “And you know better than
anyone the size of my inheritance. Don’t be a martyr, Remus.”

“But we can’t give it to him,” Remus continued, looking down at his son in Lyall’s arms
helplessly, a rush of terror going through him. “We don’t know what it’d do, and it’s too soon
before the moon for it even to work anyway. And he’s just—just a baby, after all.”

Lyall nodded, and Remus, still not looking into his father’s face, saw him readjust his arm which
was holding Teddy’s head up, as if he was holding him a little tighter, a little more carefully now.
This was what made Remus look up at his father again.

“Dad, I don’t know—” Remus said, his voice cracking. “I don’t know what I’ll do if—”

He couldn’t continue, but he knew from his father’s look that he didn’t need to. There was so much
concern in Lyall’s eyes, so much sympathetic pain, and he readjusted Teddy in his arms again
slightly so that he could get a free hand, which he reached out to grasp Remus’ shoulder.

“Look at me, Remus,” he said, his voice steady, and Remus met his father’s eyes head-on, looking
into the same blue as his own. His father blinked at him sadly, his mouth curved slightly
downward in a frown.

“You’ll figure it out,” he said, his grip on Remus’ shoulder just tight enough to be grounding, but
not so tight that it hurt. “It will be okay, whatever happens. I’ll be here to help you, but let’s face it,
you’re going to be a much better father than I ever was.”

Remus felt tears fill his eyes at that, but Lyall just gave him a smile.

“I’m so proud of you, son,” he said, and Remus nodded, blinking away the tears and sniffing.

The following night, Remus holed up in his room in the house as he always did, awaiting the
transformation and trying to push away the panic that he was imbued with every time he thought of
Teddy in the other room with Tonks. Teddy, who was no more than a few days old. Teddy, whose
cries for food or a change of nappy already made Remus want to cry himself. He didn’t know what
he’d do if Teddy was a werewolf, if he had to endure that pain, too.
Remus’ transformation was quiet, pain reduced by the sedative effect of the Wolfsbane Potion. He
curled up in the corner, feeling hazy yet trying to strain his ears to hear any sound outside the
room. He couldn’t. Eventually, he fell asleep and woke up in the morning to the return of his
human body.

Remus rose and dressed as quickly as he could, still exhausted and aching, and hurried out of the
room. It was very early, and Remus expected that Tonks might still be asleep, but he found
Andromeda in the sitting room, rocking Teddy in her arms carefully as she hummed a tune under
her breath. When she turned to see Remus in the doorway, she smiled. It was a little tired, a little
creased with worry, but it was a real, genuine smile.

“Nothing,” she said, answering his unspoken question. “Nothing happened.”

Remus sunk to the floor then and there, buried his head in his arms, and began to weep. Choked,
relieved sobs wracked his body, and after a while he felt Andromeda’s hand on his shoulder,
crouching down beside him with Teddy and rubbing soft circles into his shirt. He looked up at her,
snot and tears running down his face, and gave her a brilliant smile through swollen eyes. She
returned it.

“He missed you, I think,” she said, holding Teddy out to Remus.

Remus let out a mixture of a laugh and a sob and took his son in his arms, holding him close to his
chest as he snoozed on, letting out a soft, sweet gurgling sound in his sleep as his hair changed
from pink to blue. Remus pressed a wet kiss to Teddy’s forehead and didn’t prevent the tears from
continuing to fall, though he tried to keep Teddy dry as best he could.

....

In the three weeks that followed, Remus learned how to comfort Teddy, just like Andromeda had
promised when he’d been born. He learned what each cry meant, when his son wanted a bottle of
milk, when he needed his nappy changed, or when he just wanted to be held. Remus learned the
best things to comfort Teddy when he cried: the pacifiers and toys that helped, the certain way to
rock him to quiet him, but above everything else, Remus learned that music was the best soother of
all. The soft hum of a lullaby helped lull his son to sleep, and Remus singing whatever song came
into his head in that moment would soothe even the worst of Teddy’s cries.

Remus had taken to responding to Teddy’s wails in the night, his body becoming accustomed to the
primordial alarm bell that was triggered by his son’s voice. Sometimes Tonks would wake, too, but
when he did, Remus often told him to get back to sleep if he could. Tonks needed the rest, and
despite the sleepless nights it caused, Remus liked being the one to rock his son in the sitting room,
singing him a soft song as he fell back into dreams.

Some nights, Remus fell asleep in the sitting room with Teddy draped across his chest, woken only
by Andromeda’s early morning trip for tea and her fond smile. On other nights, Remus would stay
awake longer even than Teddy, continuing to hold and watch him after he’d dozed off. He was a
little miracle, Remus thought. A small burst of joy to interrupt whatever sadness was floating
around. And, of course, lots of screaming to drown out any thoughts before they could get too dark.

Remus had spent many a night casting a Muffliato spell on the sitting room while singing Teddy
the lyrics of anything from Bowie and Queen to the Beatles. Every time he did so, he thought of
Sirius. He’d never had Sirius’ voice, nor his penchant for performing whatever song came on the
radio or record to whoever was in the vicinity. Still, Remus’ slightly off-key singing voice was
enough for Teddy.
“Love of my life, you’ve hurt me,” Remus sang softly to quiet Teddy’s cries late at night on the
first day of May, three weeks after Teddy’s birth. “You’ve broken my heart, and now you leave me.
Love of my life, can’t you see? Bring it back, bring it back, don’t take it away from me because you
don’t know what it means to me.”

“Remus,” Tonks said, making him cut off the song and turn to look at her, where she was sitting on
the couch, woken by Teddy’s cries, too, and unable to fall back asleep this time. He pointed out of
the window, and Remus turned to look in time to see a silver magpie Patronus fly in and settle onto
the kitchen counter, before opening its mouth to speak.

“Just got the news that Harry’s at Hogwarts, so You-Know-Who can’t be far behind,” said Fred
Weasley’s breathless voice from the mouth of the bird, excitement and fear of equal measure clear
in his tone. “Come join in on the fun, if you want.”

With that, the bird dissolved, leaving Remus and Tonks to stare at the place it’d been in shock.
Even Teddy had opened his little eyes from where he’d been dozing to blink in awe at the bright
light that the Patronus had left behind, quickly fading into blackness. Once it had, Remus and
Tonks turned to one another, their voices overlapping predictably.

“I’m going,” Tonks said, at the same time as Remus uttered: “You can’t.”

Tonks narrowed his eyes at Remus, and Remus sighed. “Tonks, you gave birth only three weeks
ago,” he said. “You’re still recovering, still tired.”

Tonks crossed her arms, though Remus could see in her eyes that she wouldn’t dispute his claims.
“I have to fight,” he said instead. “I can’t just sit here and wait for news, and you know it.”

Remus felt guilt surge through his stomach, knew exactly what he was asking Tonks to do, and
how horrible it felt. “Teddy needs at least one parent safe,” he said softly after a moment. “One of
us has to stay behind.”

“Then you stay with him, Remus,” Tonks said, though Remus could hear the pain in his voice as
he said it. “I know he needs us, but he needs the world to be better, doesn’t he? I have to fight for it,
for all of us.”

“I can’t stay behind,” Remus said, and he felt tears well up in his eyes as he looked down at Teddy,
who was now snoozing on his shoulder.

He hated this, hated to look at his son in his arms, smell his distinctive baby smell and feel the
desire to do nothing but be near him, to protect him, and yet he knew that he had to leave. There
were other promises he had to keep, too, and there was another boy who, in what felt like another
life, he’d sworn to take care of. Even if that boy was almost a man and everyone was looking to
him to save them all, he still needed protection.

“He’s not the only one I need to protect, Tonks,” Remus said finally, and he could hear the crack in
his own voice, hear the pain. He knew that she could, too, and hoped that she understood. “You
know why I have to go.”

Tonks looked at him for a long time, brown eyes searching and finding something he couldn’t
deny. He sighed and shrugged. “I’d ask you to be safe, but I don’t want you to make any promises
that you can’t keep,” she said finally.

Remus nodded. “I won’t ask you to promise to stay behind, then,” he said.

Tonks gazed back at him with an open, honest expression. “I’ll try,” he said. “Will you try, too?”
“To stay alive?” Remus asked, giving a small smile. He glanced again at Teddy, brushing a hand
over his head, smoothing down his tuft of turquoise blue hair. “If I have any choice in the matter, I
will.”

It was the only promise he could make, and he knew he’d fight like hell to make it come true. He
had a very good reason to come back.

....

It wasn’t enough. It was never enough, Remus knew, as he stood on the battlefield that’d been
made out of the castle of Hogwarts, the wreckage of a place he’d once called home. If Remus had
learned anything from war, it was that when curses were flying and people were screaming, when
the crowd threatened to overwhelm him, and when bodies lay on the floor with their eyes wide and
unseeing, promises meant little. Trying meant little. It was down to luck, sometimes skill, and
often timing.

So as Remus scanned the group of fighters, trying to see where Harry had disappeared off to and
avoiding looking at the bodies which already lay on the ground for fear of recognizing one, he felt
the futility of his words to Tonks, and of the kiss he’d pressed to the top of Teddy’s head before
leaving.

In the crowd, Remus spotted a man with dark hair aiming his wand toward a student who must’ve
snuck back into the grounds, as he looked no more than fifteen. Remus raised his wand and shot a
Disarming Charm toward the Death Eater, who seemed to sense it coming and turned just in time
to deflect it. Still, it’d stopped him from aiming at the kid, so Remus counted that as a success.

“Evening, Dolohov,” he spat out as he raced toward the Death Eater, wand raised to deflect any
curse that might come his way. “I see you’re back to targeting children. Tell me, does it make you
feel powerful, or is it just that you know you can’t beat anyone over the age of sixteen?”

Dolohov’s twisted face split into a sneer as he recognized Remus. “Lupin,” he said, raising his
wand lazily, though anger showed on his face. “Should’ve known you’d be here. Gave up your
half-breed bastard for a bad job already, did you?”

Remus’ blood rushed in his ears at the words and he raised his wand, shooting another spell at
Dolohov as they began to duel, both wizards’ wands moving fast as they shot out jets of light and
dodged the other’s.

“Don’t worry, Dolohov,” Remus retorted through gritted teeth. “I’ll have time to kill you and be
home to my son by the time he wakes.”

Dolohov let out a laugh, an exhilarated, mad sound as he shot spell after spell at Remus. “And I
always thought you were a weak one, Lupin,” he cackled. “Maybe Greyback was right all along,
and we should’ve tried harder to get you on our side.”

Fury rushed through Remus at the sound of the name, at the thought of the man attached to it, who
must be here even now, preying on the innocent. The idea supercharged Remus’ energy, made him
slash his wand harder against Dolohov’s, and a cut appeared across Dolohov’s forehead, oozing
blood. Dolohov snarled at the pain, anger forming a mask across his features.

“Nothing you could ever say would get me to join Voldemort,” Remus retorted, taking the
advantage of the blood dripping slowly down Dolohov’s face and stepping forward, crowding him
into a wall.
“No?” Dolohov demanded, his voice rough, though Remus could see his snarl falter somewhat,
betraying fear. He was like a cornered animal, however, and Remus knew that he was still as
dangerous as ever. “Your friend Wormtail was easy enough to crack, as I hear. A little torture and
whispers about his family’s safety were all that did it.”

Remus’ wand shook slightly in his hand as he tried to block out the man’s words and continued to
shoot spell after spell at Dolohov, the man still deflecting them, even as he began to pant with the
effort. Dolohov had seen the weakness he’d brought out in Remus, however, and an evil grin
spread across his face.

“He was just a coward, though, and we all knew it,” Dolohov said triumphantly. “Push came to
shove, he didn’t care which of you died as long as he survived. Smart of him, if useless in the end.”

His smile spread wider, and Remus let out a strangled shout as he sent a stunning spell for his
chest, which Dolohov dodged away from with an ease Remus hadn’t thought him capable of in his
state. Remus breathed heavily as he turned to face Dolohov again, who was panting but still
grinning, wand raised in wait for him.

“Stop talking, Dolohov,” Remus said, gathering his calm again in the brief moment of reprieve.
“Stop talking like you can hurt me. I don’t care about anything that comes out of your worthless
mouth.”

“That right?” Dolohov asked, a mocking note to his voice. “You seemed bothered there for a
second. Sure you like me talking about your old pal? He died of his cowardice, you know. Died
because he was too scared to die fighting for the side he picked years ago. Died for nothing, just
like how you’ll die, Lupin. Just like how all your little friends did.”

For some reason, the words didn’t make Remus angry. Instead, they seemed to strengthen
something inside of him, pushing away fear and replacing it with something he didn’t think he’d
had for a long time: certainty. He thought of Marlene and Dorcas, resisting until the end, of James
and Lily, who’d died protecting their son, of Sirius, who’d known what he stood for all his life and
never waivered, and of Emmeline, who he was certain had been steady and defiant until her last
breath.

Remus smiled. “No, Dolohov,” he said as he raised his wand again. “None of them died for
nothing. If I die here, I won’t have died for nothing. That’s how you’ll die, whether it’s today, or
years from now in a cell in Azkaban, cold and alone.”

His words seemed to incense Dolohov, as the smirk fell off of the Death Eater’s face. Still, he
raised his wand in unison with Remus, and as Remus aimed a spell at him, he dodged away
quickly, slashing his wand toward Remus and shouting a curse that Remus had never heard before.
Remus tried to move away, but the jet of purple flame that emitted from Dolohov’s wand went
through his chest anyway, the force making it feel as if something inside of him was being torn
apart.

Remus was hardly aware of his hand falling loosely to his side, his knees buckling as he fell to the
ground. He briefly registered Dolohov’s shout of triumph as he fell, but it was quickly lost in the
sounds of the crowd around them. For a moment, Remus felt as if he was drifting, the sight of the
battle coming in and out of focus, the sounds growing softer and louder and softer again in his ears
like a badly tuned radio, then his eyes fell shut, and everything went black.

Remus wasn’t sure how long he existed in silence and darkness. It could’ve been moments or
hours. His awareness of himself was strange, as he felt disjointed, disembodied. It was like the
moment before falling asleep, or perhaps the moment before fully waking, where his consciousness
would ebb and flow slowly, like the tide of the ocean. Like the passage in and out of sleep, too,
Remus felt tugged in opposite directions, as if in limbo, one part of him moving toward something
and another part resisting.

After a long while, however, the silence became less absolute, and Remus’ ears began to register
sound. It came in and out, just like the sounds of the battle had, as if he wasn’t tuned into the right
station yet. As he listened, however, the sound became more distinct, louder, and Remus realized
that it sounded as if someone was saying his name, again and again. It was only a whisper, the soft
caress of a voice on the syllables guiding him out of darkness, pulling him toward the light.

“Remus,” the voice said again and again, not urgently, but with a gentle insistence placed upon the
syllables. “Remus.”

Remus began to register other sounds. They became louder in his ears, as though he was entering
wherever he was going through a tunnel, and the light and sound became louder and more vibrant
as he moved into it. He began to register the sound of soft laughter in the background, the chirping
of birds, and the wind rustling through trees. And was that the sound of the lapping of water
against a shore? Light began to shine through Remus’ closed eyelids and he registered his own
body for the first time. It seemed to materialize as he brought attention to it, as if it, too, was
waiting for him as he approached it from a distance.

Slowly, as everything around him seemed to solidify, Remus opened his eyes. He seemed to be
lying on his back on grass, the blades of which tickled his skin softly. The first thing he registered
as he opened his eyes was blue sky, and he blinked confusedly up at it until his gaze focused on the
face of the man above him.

Remus only registered individual features at first: the grey eyes, the color of his lips, his hair
falling into his face, and the angle of his jaw. Then, these features came together to form a
coherent image, and Remus was suddenly looking up at Sirius, who was propped on one elbow
beside him, his face hovering a few feet above Remus’. This wasn’t the Sirius he’d last known,
however. This Sirius was young, and his eyes weren’t as haunted as they’d been the last time
Remus had seen him. This was the Sirius that Remus had known seventeen years previously,
before Marlene and Dorcas or Lily and James had died, before Azkaban, before their world had
completely fallen to pieces.

Sirius was smiling at Remus, his face young, vibrant, and free, and Remus drank him in, relishing
in the sight, still not quite sure where he was or how he’d come to be there, the memory of the
events that’d come before not yet developed in his mind. It was only then that Remus realized that
Sirius had been the one saying his name, as he opened his mouth to say it again.

“Remus,” Sirius said, the name on his lips both a greeting and something much more in the way
that his voice clung to the syllables, the way Remus hadn’t heard in two years.

His hand went to cup Remus’ jaw, his fingers brushing across his cheek. As his touch landed,
Remus felt more present than he had a moment before, like Sirius was drawing him out of sleep.
His mind cleared slightly, but it still felt hazy, and making sense of the sight of Sirius above him
took up much of his brain power.

“Sirius,” Remus replied quietly after a moment, holding Sirius’ name on his tongue like a blessing
that he’d never let go of.

Remus made to sit up, and Sirius moved to help him, the hand falling from his face to grasp
Remus’ hand as he pulled him forward. Remus registered when looking at his own hands that they,
too, were young again, without any of the creases or scars he’d picked up over the past seventeen
 years.

As Remus sat up, his eyes wandered around to survey his surroundings, and what he saw took his
breath away, because there they all were. Every single one of them, laid out on the grass, watching
him as he took them all in, and smiling in greeting. There was Lily and James, sitting side by side
on a blanket, his arm around her. Next to them, Dorcas and Marlene, grinning at his astonishment
to see them there, their hands intertwined as they sat facing him. Next was Emmeline, young again,
too, beaming at him as she sat with her back against the tree at the water’s edge, a book resting
open on her lap, as if she’d been reading it while waiting for him.

Remus took a moment to realize, in his shock at seeing his old friends, that they were sitting on the
grass next to the Great Lake, in the spot they’d claimed as their own when they’d been in school. A
memory floated up to him through his still hazy mind, of a day that they’d spent here at the end of
their sixth year at Hogwarts before the war had properly started, and all that’d been on their minds
was celebrating the end of their exams. That last perfect day.

It was like the recreation of a scene captured in a snow globe, a scene that’d been captured in a
mural on baby Harry’s nursery wall before it’d been torn away, just as a dream was torn apart by
waking. Remus turned his head to see the castle in the distance, which was whole and untouched
by the battle Remus now remembered leaving. He looked back at his friends sitting there as if
nothing had changed between that day and this one, as if Remus had fallen asleep in the sun by the
lake and had a bad dream, a dream where they’d all gone away and left him. He knew that it hadn’t
been a dream, however. That much was evident by the people who were still missing from their
group, some of whom Remus knew would never rejoin them again. Still, they were here now, as if
they’d been here all along.

Remus turned back to look at Sirius, feeling dizzy with wonder at the fact that he was sitting there
in front of him, grey eyes drinking in his appearance. Their gazes met, and the look communicated
what they both knew—that it was all over, at least for them. The knowledge hurt like the curse
Remus had been struck with before everything had gone black, hurt with the understanding of all
that he’d lost. He wouldn’t be able to raise his son. He wouldn’t be able to speak to his father
again, or to Tonks, or Alaric, El, Hestia, Harry, or any of the rest he’d left behind, at least not until
they joined him. Still, there was a comfort, too, a sense of relief and rest. Never again would they
worry about the other not coming home. Never again would Remus lose someone he loved.

Tears sprung into Remus’ eyes as he gazed at Sirius, and he saw that tears had slid down Sirius’
cheeks, too, but he was still smiling through them. Remus reached up to cup Sirius’ jaw in his
hand, his thumb brushing under the other man’s eyes to wipe away the wetness there. He leaned
forward tentatively, slowly, though he knew in his bones that Sirius wouldn’t pull away. When
their lips met, Remus tasted salty tears in the kiss, and in some strange way, he thought it tasted
like victory.

They separated after what could’ve been hours or only a couple of seconds; it wasn’t as if time
mattered here. Sirius smiled again, their faces still close, and then pulled back from Remus, saying
as he did so: “Come on. We’ve been waiting for you.”

END OF PART III

Chapter End Notes

This is the closest to a happy ending I can give you all and I needed it, too. Really not
trying to glorify death, but I just needed them to reunite so I won’t cry for the rest of
my life over them. I’ve had this planned since the very beginning of writing this fic.
I’m bawling my eyes out as I write this note so…yeah. Hope you enjoyed.

Just so y’all know, I don’t see the wizard afterlife or whatever as a religious thing, I
see it as related to being a wizard/having magic more than anything else. I’m not trying
to push some weird, religious agenda here, I promise. This isn’t heaven, it’s just a
neutral afterlife. The reason Peter isn’t with them isn’t because he’s burning in hell or
something, I just can’t see any of them forgiving him and reuniting with him after all
that happened, as what he did to them all was way too big for forgiveness, I think.

The final chapter is an epilogue of sorts. I planned on posting it tomorrow but I

decided to post it today instead because it just felt like it needed to be there to read
right after this chapter.
 Epilogue: When It's All Over
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

As the sun rose over the horizon on the second of May, its rays finding their way over the trees of
the Forbidden Forest and toward the castle, illuminating it in a warm glow, Mary stepped out of the
entrance hall to stand in the doorway, the oak front doors long since blown off their hinges. They
lay like so much wreckage now, outside of the crumbling stone walls, one propped up slightly, the
other laying flat across the grass like another fallen warrior.

Mary took a deep breath as she looked out, out from the wreckage of the castle that she’d once
considered her home, her whole world for nine months out of the year, the world she’d shared once
upon a time with her friends. The grounds didn’t look so bad, not as destroyed as the castle itself.
And yet Mary knew that this place would bear the scar of this night for many years to come,
decades and centuries probably. But now that Voldemort was dead, now that his body lay
abandoned and uncared for in the Great Hall, where he could do no more harm, it wasn’t such a
bad notion after all.

Without thinking about it much, Mary stepped out of the castle doors and walked slowly down to
the shore of the Great Lake, breathing in the fresh air as she did so. There was still the slight tang
of smoke on the air, leftover from explosions and spells alike, leaving a sort of electricity behind.
After a few minutes of walking, Mary finally reached the place that she hadn’t known was her
destination until she got there. This had been their spot by the lake, the spot where so many things
had happened, for better or worse, so many years before.

It was where she’d watched James and Sirius humiliate Snape from a safe distance in their fifth
year, where she’d felt that surge of guilty satisfaction, watching him get a small taste of what he
and his friends had inflicted upon her. It was where, the following year, Lily had apologized to
Mary for how she’d acted after that incident, the moment that had marked the beginning of their
real, true friendship, after years of distant familiarity. It was the place where she’d first felt herself
falling for Lily, even if she hadn’t known it then. It was the place where they’d spent their last
carefree days before the war had overwhelmed all else in their lives, at the end of their sixth year,
back in the days when they’d still been children, despite the trials and tribulations they’d already
faced, when they’d still partly believed that they’d never grow old, never die, never leave one
another’s sides.

Other memories resided there, too, unbeknownst to Mary. It was where James had first transformed
fully into his Animagus form, before running back to the castle to exclaim to his friends in their
fifth year. It held the site where Remus had first remembered seeing the reflection of the full moon
in the water’s depths, where he’d found himself not hating it for a moment, surrounded for once by
friends. It was also where Emmeline and Hestia had had that conversation about what they might
do with the last day of their lives, so long ago, the conversation that had haunted Emmeline to her
end.

It was where, in seventh year, Marlene and Sirius had walked after Sirius’ uncle’s funeral, when
Sirius had finally admitted his feelings for Remus and what that might mean for him. It was where
Remus and Lily had had a similar talk, only a month later, when Remus had cried into Lily’s
sweater and she’d told him that he was going to be okay. It was from there that Dorcas had waded
into the lake’s icy depths in December 1977, and Marlene had watched from the bank, feeling a
combination of exasperation and absolute love at the sight.
All of that Mary couldn’t know, had never been told, but she felt the memories there. She felt the
presence of her old friends as she looked out, the sounds of people in the castle fading into the
background. She hoped they knew what had happened on this day, of how they hadn’t all died in
vain.

As Mary looked out, her mind drifted not only to the memories that lived like ghosts in this place
but also to the path that had brought her here, gazing out at the familiar water on this day.

It’d been only the previous evening, after all, that Mary had received the message from Augusta
Longbottom, her vulture Patronus appearing in the middle of the flat that Mary and her family had
been hiding in in France for the past six months, after her and Reg’s narrow escape at the Ministry.
Due to Mary’s involvement in Neville’s life over the course of the past sixteen years, the
Longbottoms had been some of the few who’d known where her family had been hiding, but Mary
still couldn’t help but be shocked that Augusta had thought of her when her stern voice came
issuing from the mouth of the vulture, telling her of the upcoming battle, of how Neville had told
her that Harry was at Hogwarts and that they were preparing to fight.

There’d been a note of impatience in the older woman’s voice, Mary thought, a demand that it was
time for her to step up again, to stop running, to fight for what she believed in, and to return to her
old self. And Mary, after all those years, after the letters that had stopped coming from Hestia and
Emmeline, the pokes and prods that had faded into silence when she’d never responded, had
finally had the bravery to act.

Yet it wasn’t just the silvery animal appearing in the middle of the cramped sitting room in front of
her children’s wide eyes that had kicked Mary into action. Perhaps it would’ve done nothing if it
hadn’t been for what had happened six months before, that moment in the bathroom stall after their
escape from the Ministry, when Mary had glanced over at the man who she’d thought was
Runcorn.

In that moment, when he’d yelled to his companions and turned to her, not really seeing her, Mary
had registered the way that his eyes had changed from dark brown to a startlingly familiar green.
And while his gaze barely seemed to register her presence at that moment, Mary still felt as if his
eyes were piercing her. Mary hadn’t seen those eyes in almost sixteen years, but she’d known them
immediately, and it was that moment that had sprung her into action. Lily’s eyes, gazing out from
her son’s half-transfigured face, had saved Mary.

Mary had felt ashamed of herself that day, ashamed of the person she’d become in the years since
the first war, the person who’d run rather than fought, who’d resigned herself to her fate and cried
in the face of the Ministry inquisitors instead of fighting back. She’d been so preoccupied for so
many years with shoving it all away, with only focusing on keeping her life as normal and happy as
she could make it—focusing on the husband who she’d fallen for when she’d least expected it, on
the family she’d made despite everything that had happened in her past—that she’d convinced
herself that it was alright to bury her head in the sand.

If Mary’s teenage self could’ve seen her, Mary knew that she would’ve been ashamed. That’s what
happens when you start running, she would’ve told herself. You can’t stop. But perhaps it was
Lily’s voice who’d said that, as it was Lily who’d woken her up in the end, returning the favor that
Mary had given her at fifteen, laying in a hospital bed and demanding for Lily to wake up and face
the truth.

After the split-second realization, Mary had watched as the three young wizards apparated away, as
the Ministry officials began to crowd out into the stall, and yelling filled the room. Under cover of
the officials’ haste to catch Harry and his friends, Mary had come to her senses and grabbed onto
Reg’s hand, apparating away with him before any of the wizards surrounding them could stop
them. Using the quick thinking she’d learned during the first war, she’d overseen her family
packing up the things they needed and took them on the run. In the following months, Mary finally
admitted the truth to herself about who she’d been, who she was now, and how those two people
shouldn’t be so separate as she’d acted like they were for so many years. She’d admitted it to her
family, too, finally telling her children the watered-down stories of her life before everything had
been stripped away, stories Reg had wanted to tell them for years, but which Mary hadn’t been
ready for.

Then, in the eleventh hour, she’d bade them all goodbye, explained to her children where she was
going, and told them that she loved them. She’d done up her shoulder-length hair in a ponytail, the
hair she’d kept short for so many years before they’d gone into hiding and she hadn’t had time to
worry about keeping it any particular way, and then she’d kissed Reg goodbye. He’d held her hand
and looked into her light brown eyes, and she’d seen the thing that had made her stay for sixteen
long years. It was the steadiness and understanding that had kept her grounded when she’d sat on
bathroom floors and had panic attacks in her twenties, clutching his hand, and on nights that she
still woke from nightmares with a scream on her lips. And he’d let her go because he knew as well
as she did that she’d needed to do this.

Mary had fought for the first time in years, and it’d been as awful as she always remembered it. It’d
made her think of nights she’d wanted to forget, nights that she’d killed people and saved people
who now were well past saving, despite her efforts. Nights that she’d ended up staring into the
bathroom mirror and wondering how anything could ever get better again. Yet somehow, fighting
had felt wonderful, too, in some strange, twisted way that told her that she’d been hiding from this
part of herself for too long. In the end, they’d lost so much and gained so much in this one battle,
more than Mary ever had in all those nights of fighting so many years before.

Mary was so lost in thought that she didn’t hear the person approach behind her until they were
only a few yards away, but she turned sharply as she heard the rustle of the grass as footsteps
approached, still fearful that some threat would come back to attack her, despite all evidence to the
contrary.

It wasn’t a Death Eater in a mask, however, who stood behind her when she turned; it was just a
woman. A woman with long, dark brown hair and deep, chocolate-colored eyes, which were
familiar but long since stripped of their signature sparkle. A woman whose face looked more worn
than when Mary had last seen it, seventeen years before, with the corners of her eyes and her
mouth slightly indented with lines that Mary knew would deepen if she smiled. Hestia wasn’t
smiling now, though. She had flecks of blood across her olive skin, a cut on her cheek, and her eyes
were wide as she stared at Mary as if she’d seen a ghost, like Mary was an apparition that had been
conjured by the castle, the grounds, and all that they’d gained and lost that day.

Mary’s eyes filled with tears at the sight of her, and she swallowed a lump in her throat before
opening her mouth to speak. “Tia,” she said, the old nickname rolling off her tongue despite the
years between this day and the last time they’d met.

“Mac,” Hestia returned, her eyes still wide with disbelief as she scanned Mary’s face. Mary knew
that she was tracking the changes there, too, just as Mary had found them in her old friend’s face.

It was impossible to look at someone she’d known for so long and not compare the Hestia of that
day to the rosy-cheeked, laughing-eyed girl she’d known in her youth. Hestia had been alight with
life back then, every movement showing off the energy within, just brimming to the surface. That
kind of light couldn’t survive a war, Mary knew. It couldn’t survive watching most of your friends
die over the course of a few months, then losing the rest years later after you’d thought it was over.
However, perhaps some of it still lived in Hestia, deep within, because after a moment of silent
staring, her face broke into a smile and she began to cry all at the same time.

Hestia rushed toward Mary, and Mary didn’t have a chance to register what was happening before
Hestia’s arms were around her and she was pulled into a hug, her face unceremoniously pressed
into the junction between Hestia’s shoulder and neck.

“You’re back,” Hestia choked out into Mary’s hair, and Mary could hear the tears in her voice.
“You came back.”

Mary felt tears prick in her own eyes, and she wrapped her arms around Hestia in return, turning
her face to the side to press her cheek more comfortably against Hestia’s shoulder, nodding into it.

“I came back,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She whispered the apology into the air between
them, and Hestia cried harder, shaking slightly.

Mary didn’t have words to adequately convey her regret, as there were no words for the guilt and
shame she felt for running away from them all and not looking back, for not contacting any of them
even after she’d returned to England. But Hestia must know, she must know.

“Please don’t leave again,” Hestia sobbed, and Mary shook her head as much as she could, caught
up in the hug.

“I won’t,” she promised, her voice choked, but at least this was a promise she thought she could
keep. At least now that the war was over, promises weren’t just things to toss out and hope that
they wouldn’t catch the wind and fly away.

“I never should’ve left,” Mary whispered, and Hestia, if it were possible, seemed to tighten her
hold. Mary knew why.

Emmeline was gone, Sirius was gone, Remus was gone, and Hestia was alone. Out of the ten
witches and wizards who’d joined the Order of the Phoenix together after graduating Hogwarts—
ten people who’d been family for that time—there were only the two of them left. They were the
only two in the world who knew what they knew, who’d shared what they had. Mary knew she
couldn’t leave again, and she wouldn’t.

After several long moments of clinging to one another, they drew back, holding each other from an
arm’s length now, looking at one another. Hestia’s dark gaze, Mary noticed, was just as intense as
she’d always remembered, even if her eyes were sadder than she’d ever seen them before.

“I didn’t blame you for leaving, Mary,” Hestia said softly, shaking her head, her eyes still filled
with tears. “I knew you loved Lily, and I saw the way you broke when she died. I just missed you.”

Mary bit her lip, feeling tears cascade down her cheeks now, too. She’d never told a single soul
how she’d felt about Lily back then, had barely even told herself, for that matter, but of course
Hestia had known. And of course now, so many years later, Hestia was still looking at Mary with
understanding in her eyes for all she’d lost and all the pain it’d caused, all the scars it’d left.

“I never stopped believing in the cause,” Mary said, hoping to justify herself, hoping to express
what she’d always been ashamed of in all those years in between when she’d done nothing. “I
always believed Harry, but I was afraid. I should’ve come back to the Order, but I was so afraid to
face it, afraid of it all happening again.” Afraid of not being enough to protect the people I love
again, she thought but didn’t say. “I was a coward.”

Hestia gave her a tearful smile and shook her head, her hands squeezing Mary’s tightly as she met
her gaze. “You’re no coward, Mary,” Hestia said firmly. “You came back in the end. That’s what
matters.”

Mary held her gaze, trying to believe her, trying to force back the tears as she stood in this familiar
place and tried to reconcile the teenager she’d been, not knowing what she was facing but staring it
down all the same, to the adult she’d become, terrified and having to force herself to stand and
fight. Perhaps one day she might forgive herself for all of it, just as she’d forgiven Lily right here,
all those years ago.

Hestia was watching her carefully, gaze scanning Mary’s face as if she was trying to read all the
secrets that lay there. Mary knew that there were so many years to catch up on, seventeen years
worth of change that they had to understand before they could really know one another again. And
yet the only question Hestia asked was: “Are you happy?”

Mary considered the question for a moment. It was hard to feel happy, of course, at that moment,
with the ruins of the castle behind her and the memory of the last few months. Then, Mary thought
of her children, of Reg, of seeing her sister Clementine again, now that they could both come out of
hiding. She thought of the job that she’d be able to go back to now that the war was over, and her
face broke into a small smile.

“I will be,” Mary responded simply. “What about you?”

“I don’t know,” Hestia replied, a deep sadness settling into the lines of her face. “I’m not quite sure
what happiness looks like for me now. It’s like at the end of the last war. Everyone was
celebrating, and I was just sitting there, trying to figure out how to go on, trying to believe that
anything could ever be alright again. I’ve lost so many people, so many things that made me happy
before.”

“I know,” Mary said, nodding in understanding. “I know exactly what you mean.”

Hestia let go of Mary’s hand to turn to look back out at the lake. Mary turned, too, and they stood
still, side by side for a moment, just staring across its depths, which were unmoved by all that had
happened on that day.

“At least it’s over now,” Hestia said, her voice sounding distant as the breeze that had picked up
from behind them blew it across the water.

Mary didn’t look at her, just nodded, tears filling her eyes again, but she smiled as she looked out at
the lake. All the people they’d lost would live here forever, she thought. This was where she’d
remember them, safe in a moment far away from this one. In this place, they’d live forever. In this
place, they’d never die.

It really was over, though, and not just the war. The family that she’d found here and lost, the
happiness of youth that she’d never get again. Their dreams were completed, too, all the things that
they’d wished for back then, because they’d wished for more than just love or happiness or the
usual things that teenagers wanted. They’d wished for a world where they’d all be safe, and now it
looked like that world would be able to be built painstakingly from the ground, even if it was too
late for most of them to live in it.

“It’s all over,” Mary affirmed after a moment, leaning to rest her head on Hestia’s shoulder. She let
the tears fall, for the grief of all she’d lost. For the things she’d found again. For the life she’d
imagined, and never got to lead. And in joy, too, for the one she led now.

Mary wasn’t sure how long they stood there, staring out at the lake, both lost in thought, but it was
 Hestia who broke the moment finally, gently disengaging herself from Mary and giving her a
smile, chin jerking up toward the castle.

“Come on,” she said, holding out her hand for Mary to take.

Mary took it hesitantly, allowing Hestia to lead her back up the path, away from the lake and all
the memories it held. “Where are we going?”

Hestia glanced at Mary next to her and gave her a small smile. “It’s high time that Harry was
reintroduced to his godmother,” she said simply.

Mary’s eyes widened for a moment, then her face broke into a grin, a helpless, goofy thing that
made Hestia laugh.

“What will I say to him?” Mary asked, excitement and fear battling in her chest as they drew closer
to the ruined castle.

Hestia shrugged and gave her a sympathetic smile. “I expect after all these years, all he wants is the
truth,” she said. “Maybe when the dust settles, he’ll want the whole story, not just the fragments
that he’s gotten from various sources over the years. I’m not sure there’s any better person to tell
him than you.”

Mary nodded, and as her eyes focused on the entrance of the castle, doors torn off their hinges and
people milling about inside, she thought about the first day she’d entered it, and the jumbled mess
of memories she’d gained there along the way, the ghosts of the people in them that haunted her to
this day. She thought about how to tell the story, how to explain it to Harry, how she could
possibly wade through it all and form it into a narrative that made any sense whatsoever.

Sirius’ voice echoed back to her then, through all the years in between them, from an old, rickety
car in the Cornish countryside in 1980: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…”

Mary’s heart ached for him, the boy contained in those words, whispered in silence and fear in the
dead of night. Sirius, who she’d never gotten to say goodbye to, who existed still in her memory as
the twenty-one-year-old he’d been before everything had fallen apart. Perhaps, Mary thought, this
was where she could start.

Chapter End Notes

I like to think that Mary tells Harry lots of stories about Lily and all the rest, and the
parts about Snape and Dumbledore lead to Harry choosing a nice, sensible name for
Albus Severus, because I think Mary would think of it as her duty to Lily to keep
Harry from naming his son after the absolute fuckwad that was Severus Snape. I also
like to think that Harry found out about the house on Blacksmith Hill and settled down
to live there with Ginny and his kids.

If you're a regular reader/commenter please tell me what you think of the ending
because I'm dying to hear your reaction. Also, you can come to say hi to me on TikTok
@lesbianevans. I don't post a lot but I'm there :)
End Notes

Okay, this is going to be long and sappy so bear with me.

I want to thank everyone who has been reading all this time. What I thought this story
would be when I started writing is definitely not how it ended up (I expected this to be like
100-200k and it obviously spiraled out of control), but I love what it became. I fell in love
with these characters, at first with the ones I knew, then with the ones I made, or discovered
along the way. It’s hard to tell in what ways you shape the characters, and in what ways the
characters shape you. I’ve been bawling my eyes out these last few weeks, knowing that it’s
coming to a close, but I’ll never really leave these people behind. Writing them has taught
me a lot about myself and about the world.

Starting this story during the summer of 2020 was like taking a breath of clean air after
suffocating for a long, long time. I hadn’t written creatively like this in years, and I think I
was a bit scared to. This story made me remember how much better I feel when I write and
made me fall back in love with writing fiction. I started this story at a point in my life where
I was overwhelmed with grief for how my life had been and how well I’d been doing before
the pandemic started. I grieved so much over the course of writing it, too, for all the things I
missed, for the version of my life I thought I’d get to have, for the version of myself I had
to leave behind, and for the relationships destroyed in the process. I think writing this story,
which is so much about grief, not only for people lost, but for time lost, opportunities lost,
and dreams lost, helped me to express something I needed to. I’m grateful for that, and for
all of you who came along with me on this journey.

I’m going to start trying to write a novel soon, and I’m terrified but hopeful. Still, I’ll never
leave fanfiction behind, and I have more ideas that I might make into much much shorter
stories within this universe, as well as others not related to this fanfic. I don’t have a
timeline for when I’ll be writing/publishing those yet, since I kind of want to give myself a
break after this 2+ year-long rollercoaster of a fic I took on. I’ve also been going back and
doing some editing within this fic, too (no major plot points changed, don’t worry). Partly, I
think I’m just doing it because I’m scared to let this fic go. It’s been a constant in my life
during a period when so much has changed. (As of 12/13/22, I’m done making edits.)

The beauty of fanfiction, and of fandoms, is the sharing of ideas. I hope that this story, and
the version of this world that I created, makes people happy. It’s mine, but it also belongs to
all of us, and is a patchwork of ideas of many, many people in this fandom. My story is not
isolated, as I’ve been influenced by many authors that have come before me, as well as
people in many different forums sharing ideas, like Tumblr, TikTok, and more. I credit
everyone reading this for helping to make it happen. Thank you.

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