It's been years since I've published something, and I've been sitting on this one for a long time. So here's the beginning of a new work, based on Shakespeare's Love's Labour's Lost. Let me know what you think!
Chapter One
Several important things happened in 1978. This is a story of those important events, but looking back, a few in particular set circumstance in motion, presented choices that otherwise would have slipped past unimagined.
The world was in a state of flux. Inventors and artist raced to see who could overturn life faster. Memory of wars turned into fear of another, and the total devastation it would bring. Haunted by their mortality, young men sought either oblivion or to etch their names into history. It would be years before anyone remembered this story. In 1978, no one even noticed when the world changed right before their eyes.
I suppose that's why this story needs to be told.
And now, the beginning:
On the sixth of February 1977, Mrs. Dorea Potter died in her sleep after a long deterioration of her health. The next day, a muggle London magazine complained of the decline of true punk music.
While the death of his mother was not unexpected, its effect on James Potter was significant. Maturity doesn't appear overnight, but circumstances have a way of making it suddenly evident. James and his father, Charlus, were both present at Dorea's passing, granting them the small mercy of a farewell.
Outside the mint-green room at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, in an uncomfortable wooden chair, Sirius Black sat alone. His fingers twisted in the hair that he wore long simply because it made him look like a delinquent and not the pure-blood heir he was. He wasn't related to the ailing Mrs. Potter, so no matter how much of a second son he was to her, he was not allowed in.
The year 1977 moved forward. The school year came to an end in June. James and Sirius' marks dipped after the tragedy, but they passed, as did their friend, Peter Pettigrew. As for the fourth member of the Marauders, Remus Lupin passed easily and found the time to help his struggling friends with their work.
On the same day the Hogwarts Express brought them home, Sirius packed his things and left the Potters' house. He couldn't bear to stay there.
James met him at the door, blocking his way out. "Come on, mate. You don't have to leave. Just cause you can support yourself now doesn't mean you have to."
"I don't want to be a burden," Sirius said.
"You're not one and you'll never be." James crossed his arms. "Don't start that bullshit with me. I'm your brother."
"Please, James. I need to do this." It wasn't often that Sirius would plead. With a sigh, James stepped aside and watched until his best friend reached the property line and Disapparated.
Remus was the first and most frequent visitor at Sirius' new flat. He thought his friend was a fool to give up his place with the Potters, but he also understood why he had to. Sorrow was something Remus knew intimately. So he sat with Sirius late into the night, supplied chocolate and tea—more for his own benefit—and argued over the cathartic merits of The Beatles versus Led Zeppelin.
Those visits didn't last long. In early July Remus managed to get a job working in a muggle coffee bar, serving hopeful poets and ignoring whatever they added to their drinks. He poured his heart into the work, knowing he'd need the money in the years to come.
For nearly two months, the four friends saw little of each other as they each become immersed in their separate worlds. Letters were written in cramped handwriting in the dead of night and sent with over-rested owls. And as the year began to wane, the Marauders prepared for their final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.