Snapshots for Life
Some things don't change with the generations. Taking snapshots of life is one such thing.
AN: A two part story that is three-quarters fluffy and one quarter melancholic. No spoilers; the Marauders are in their seventh year at the time; Harry and the gang probably around the same age in theirs. For Shaz and Sixuan
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.
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Snow trampled underfoot, muffling the tired steps Remus Lupin took as he trailed away from the Whomping Willow and back to the castle.
He was tired, deep and bone weary, and it didn't help that he had to constantly stop to sweep away evidence of his footsteps lest some curious student (and Hogwarts students were certainly full the to brim with that substance, obviously deciding that the phrase curiosity killed the cat only applied to overly nosy felines and not amateur wizards and witches) came across it and traced the prints back to its origin. Remus didn't know why anyone would be out of grounds in this weather, risking being caught and freezing to death, much less bothering to follow snowy foot prints in the blistering wind. Chances were that the falling snow would soon cover up all traces of the journey Remus was forced to make every month, but it was always best to err on the side of caution. Professor Dumbledore had shown him great trust in allowing him to make the journey past the Whomping Willow into Hogsmeade without supervision, and Remus wasn't going to throw all of that away.
Besides, normal rules just didn't apply when it came to Hogwart students.
Grumbling quietly to himself, Remus shot a heartfelt glare at the almost-full moon, the celestial body having just waned the night before. What an inconvenient time for his wolfish transformation to come! Wormtail had disappeared on holiday somewhere, and the other three quarters of the Marauders were some of the few students who had chosen to stay over the Christmas holiday. Normally, Remus' serious code of conduct and general commonsense was enough to restrain James and Sirius to a certain extent; becoming seventh years had brought a sense of maturity to the other two boys, but honestly, Remus had his work cut out for him dealing with their crazy antics and so called "adventures."
He wondered what James and Sirius might have done to the Gryffindor common room in his absence and winced.
As if echoing his thoughts, Remus heard a call of impending doom.
"Mooooony!"
Remus swung around quickly, one hand flicking instinctively to his wand before something big, furry and heavy slammed into him.
"Oof!"
He went down like a stone, snow flurrying everywhere, the thick layer of snow somewhat cushioning his fall. He laid there for a moment, half dazed and out of breath before trying to pull upright, his efforts impeded by a lapful of squirming, excited dog. Silken hair was everywhere and a pair of large, liquid eyes stared up at him happily as a pink, wet tongue came up to lick his face.
"Arghhhh! Padfoot! Ger'off!"
"Woof!"
Somehow managing to wrestle his way out from under a very determined canine Sirius, Remus gathered his fallen cloak and whatever remained of his pride and rapped the still leaping dog sharply across the nose.
"Bad dog! Sit!"
The canine gave him a reproachful look before melting back into Sirius, his black hair ruffled and eyes twinkling with suppressed mischief. "That was low, Moony," he told Remus, who was trying to decide whether yelling or just hitting the man would give him the most satisfaction.
"You aren't exhausted and you didn't get knocked over by an overexcited mutt," Remus retorted, shivering slightly as he tried to brush the clinging snow off his clothes.
Sirius' eyes flickered. He pulled off his scarf, and before Remus could protest, had secured the woolly material around his throat. Then, he grabbed one arm and bodily dragged the slighter boy into the castle, not halting and seeming to pay any heed to Remus' stutters of protest until they reached the common room. Sirius parked Remus before the great fireplace with a bark to "stay there, and for Merlin's sake relax!"
Remus sank deeper into his armchair and tried to suppress his smile as he watched Sirius loping around, apparently trying to brew some tea. Sirius was crazy but that didn't mean he didn't have a large heart. Honestly, one might not quite expect it but Sirius was more like his animagus form than anything else. Noble, stealthy, and fearsome when provoke, but in the end Sirius was still a wiggly puppy only searching for attention. In this case, Sirius' pride wouldn't allow him to back down and apologize, but his actions spoke louder than words.
Amongst them four, actions always spoke louder than words.
He accepted the cup full of hot tea and smiled at Sirius in silent acceptance of his apology. They lay sprawled before the fire like that in companionable silence. Remus had almost nodded off to sleep, lulled by the warmth and safe ambience when Sirius spoke up.
"You know, I've been thinking of what to get Lily. You know, as a sort of Christmas present welcoming her to the Marauders. She's pretty much one of us, now."
Remus peeled one eyelid open. "Doesn't James have a present of his own for her? Speaking of James, where is he?" Pulling himself upright, he gazed around at the very common looking room. No sign of fire, scorches or transfigured objects. No traps that he could discern, at least. No heavy duty, non-removable tinsel strewn maniacally across the room; James and Sirius did that in their fifth year, and the Gryffindor common room had remained Christmasy well into the summer term before the charm on the tinsel had been dispelled.
Amazing.
"James is mooning over Lily, of course. It's the first time they've been apart since they got together," Sirius snorted. "Best friend though he is, I can only stand so much lovesickness. That's why I came to find you on the grounds."
"Thank you, Sirius, that's touching."
"And because you're such genial company, of course. Anyway," Sirius continued on, "I have it all planned out. I know Lily loves James and all but I decided that she'll probably enjoy some physical evidence of James' brooding. Just to prove how much he misses her. It's flattering, I'd think."
Alright. Not so amazing.
"What?"
Sirius produced a camera out of nowhere, a gadget Remus was quite surprised Sirius knew how to manipulate. "I'm going to snap some photos of our unsuspecting James, get someone to develop them for me and stick them in a book for Lily. If anything, it'll mortify James, and he'll only get more frustrate when he finds out it's for Lily because he can't destroy something we made for her!"
The evil grin Sirius displayed was quite terrifying. Maybe he'll be able to wiggle out of this somehow…
"And you'll help me, of course!"
Too late.
Remus just sighed and gave Sirius his best authoritative glare to no avail. The other boy just grinned at him and dragged him off to find James. Remus didn't really resist. Honestly, there was only so much he could do; he wasn't a miracle worker, and it would certainly take a miracle for Sirius not to go through with his surprisingly well thought out but insane plan.
Merlin forbid that he have a moment's rest.
----
Somehow acquiring James' invisibility cloak, Sirius managed to snap half a dozen photos of James lying despondently on his bed, head turned slightly to gaze out the window. There was an out of focus look on his face, as if his mind was a thousand miles away, and by the looks of it, James was a thousand miles away. All his thoughts, as they had been lately, were with Lily.
It was quite touching, Remus thought. Too bad Sirius was taking shameless advantage of the situation.
The older boy had managed to coerce him into casting a Silencing Charm over the cloak, the camera and themselves to hide the tale-telling click each time Sirius took a snap shot. Now the two of them were crouched uncomfortably in a corner of the room behind a dresser, Sirius sticking the nose of the camera out from underneath the invisibility cloak.
Sirius had been snickering nonstop since they began this scatterbrained activity. Luckily the Silencing Charm worked just as well on snickers as on camera clicks. Padfoot, you're enjoying this too much, Remus thought, and resisted the urge to stomp on Sirius' foot.
A poke in his side made him look up. "Moony, go over and talk to James," Sirius mouthed to him, the spell cloaking all sound.
Remus shook his head vehemently.
Sirius shot him a wounded "kicked puppy" look. He waved his camera at Remus, holding up eight fingers to show the amount of photos he had taken. Remus could almost hear his voice whining "I only have eight photos. Go on, Moony, go talk to him so I can get some shots of him in another position!"
Frustrated because he didn't have the ability to convey his protest in mere looks alone, Remus glared and mouthed back. "You are more trouble than you're worth, Padfoot!" before slithering out from under the cloak.
"James," he called softly, "James?"
He heard a rustle as the boy shifted across his bed and then the answer, "I'm here, Moony."
Shifting the draping back further, Remus sat down at the foot of James' bed. He studied his friend carefully; now that he was aware of someone's presence, James' melancholy had faded. Still, there was a wistful look in those dark eyes that tugged at the soul as he sat up to face Remus.
Sirius, you idiot, you had better captured that look because honestly, that was a shot worth a million words.
"Are you alright? When you weren't downstairs being all festive, I was a little worried," he said out loud.
"I'm fine, Remus. I just miss Lily, that's all."
James said this as acceptingly as someone might speak of the weather. Falling in love, Remus noted, had certainly changed James. For one, he was more accepting of his inner emotions. For another… it seemed as though James had finally grown up, both mentally and physically.
"You'll be alright, Prongs," Remus said, letting silence fall between them, and in that silence, he heard a very distinct click.
The Silencing Charm!
"And," Remus hurried on, trying to distract James, "I'm sure Lily misses you too."
Click!
Sirius!
Too late. James' sharp hearing had already caught the sound.
"That," he said slowly, staring intently towards the dresser, shoving his black hair from his eyes, "sounded like a camera."
"And indeed it is!" Sirius chuckled, throwing the cloak in a very surprised James' face as a distraction and once again Remus found himself being dragged away. "And it's for Lily, Prongs, so don't you dare do anything!"
Remus caught a fleeting look of mixed surprise and growing realization on James' face before the door slammed shut and he was pulled down the stairs at neck breaking speeds.
"Sirius, you just had to give yourself away, didn't you? Now James probably thinks I was involved as well!" Remus growled.
"Well, you were involved, but don't worry. James knows it's all my idea."
Sirius had dragged them back into the common room and stood behind Remus, one arm dangling the camera before their faces. Sirius stuck his head over Remus' shoulder, the other arm looping around Remus in a half hug as he smirked.
"Sirius, what are you do-"
"Smile for the camera, Moony!"
Click!
--- ---
Harry was making a perfect nuisance of himself that Christmas holiday. Having acquired a camera from somewhere, he embarked on a mission – to snap as many candid photos in as many angles in as many different lighting as possible. Ron had woken up to a bright flash and a grinning Harry; since then, that camera became one of the symbols of his nightmares.
"Where on earth did you get a camera?" he demanded of the Boy Who Lived, eyeing said object, hanging safely around Harry's neck. Unfortunately, such a location prevented Ron from hexing the machine – in case he hit his best friend – and he couldn't unsuspectingly step on it if it was on Harry. At this rate, he wouldn't be able to crush it with his bare hands either.
"Borrowed it from Colin Creevey," Harry replied lightly, and cheekily snapped a photograph of Ron's disgruntled face, almost choking from holding in his laughter.
Hermione had accepted Harry's out-of-the-blue antics with a surprisingly calm air; she allowed him to take various shots of her on the condition that he told her he was doing so. She even mellowed enough to tackle Ron down, scolding and finally, at wand's end, managed to coerce Ron into the spirit of photo-taking.
Personally, Hermione liked this change in Harry. He had been so serious and melancholic the past few days that she would do anything to rouse – and keep him from falling back – into the dark moroseness he had been struck with. If photography was the way to go about it, than she wholeheartedly encouraged that activity.
Ron thought it was positively annoying. Hermione thought it was rather sweet, and requested copies of her favorite photos after they had been developed.
"After all, we don't have many photos of the three of us, do we?"
Harry didn't stop with just his best friends – strategic spots around Hogwarts earned his attention, from the Great Lake, Hagrid's hut and the Quidditch grounds to the owlery, the Great Hall and the Gryffindor common room. Even the Whomping Willow received a shot, although it was taken from a long way off.
Still, it was Harry's best friends that held the camera lenses the most.
As evening fell, Harry dragged Ron and Hermione to the edge of the Forbidden Forest and managed to catch the castle in most of its glory, silhouetted magnificently against a setting sun. Lastly, Harry had tugged his two friends to his side and snapped a photograph of the three of them, gauging the angle with a happy air.
"Harry, this is getting ridiculous," Ron growled. "You're turning into Colin Creevey! And I always thought you hated being photographed; said it was unwanted fame and publicity."
Smiling softly, a bittersweet tinging those curved lips, Harry merely said softly. "We're going to war with Voldemort soon. Don't you want to make – and keep – some memories of everything?"
In light of such words, Ron could not protest.
-----
Later that night, Harry and Hermione sat ensconced before the common room fire, Hermione with her new Christmas gift – a thick, fat spell book, full of advanced and practical magic, just the way she loved her books – and a purring Crookshanks warming her lap, and Harry merely staring into the fire as if he could view the future in its flickering flames. Ron had disappeared up the stairs to the boy's dormitory, announcing that he was actively hiding from Harry and that any cameras he saw left lying unattended was going to self-combust in some mysterious way.
"Harry," Hermione's voice was gentle. He turned his gaze upon her, fiddling lightly with the leather-bound photo album lying opened on his lap.
"I know why you went through this whole photo fiasco, but what gave you the idea? Cameras have never been very popular with you."
Harry smiled wryly, "And here I was, waiting for you to ask." Carefully, he slid the album across the top of Hermione's armchair so she could look at it without jolting the ginger cat from her lap. With careful fingers – Harry never allowed others to handle this precious object lightly – she turned the page he had indicated towards the firelight.
It was a splash page, a ripped out piece of stiff parchment paper that was carefully attached in between the last pages of the photo album after all the formal photographs Hagrid had managed to gather.
Up in the top right corner was a photograph of a familiar figure, untidy black hair ruffled and untidy, looking like a split image of Harry, except for the color of his eyes. Under the silver rim of his glasses, this figure had wistful dark eyes that spoke of a vast love and sincere emotions. A fond half smile lit the boy – who looked about seventeen –'s lips, and as Hermione looked on the figure within the photograph merely gazed steadily back at her, a silent tableau.
So this was Harry's father.
The second photograph was placed diagonally from the first, in the bottom left corner of the parchment. In sharp contrast to the image of Harry's father, the two figures within the photo's frame were quite active.
In the forefront was a brown haired boy, obviously forced into the photograph, if the pained, resigned look on his face was any indication. A slightly blurred hand hovered at the side of the photo, the arm attached to a broadly smiling boy in black, eyes deep and mischievous. He was obviously the one taking the photograph. The photographer's free arm was thrown across the smaller boy's shoulders and as he posed for the camera, Hermione caught a small, beautiful smile upon the brown hair boy's face, almost hidden as he ducked his head away from the camera lenses.
"Sirius," Hermione whispered, recognizing the youthful faces and cross-identifying them with the adults she knew so well. "And Remus?"
For a shot taken candidly, the photograph was remarkably in focus, the two figures boxed into the frames in perfect proportion. Like the first photograph, the two boys exhibited powerful presences.
There were souls in these photographs, a sliver of time, a memory captured forever.
Harry gestured her to look further on. Ducking her head, she read the short captions written under the second shot.
In Sirius' loopy, almost unreadable scrawl: The conspirators at work! The only two who have been able to capture James Potter in a vulnerable moment. Fear our prowess!
Under that was a neat, carefully penned script – Remus'.
Padfoot, otherwise known as a devil on the loose with a camera. If seen, do not confront – merely run far, far away.
Hermione couldn't help smiling at her former professor's words. Noticing that she had finished reading, Harry closed the photo album and cradled the precious bundle to his heart.
"That was a page out of Remus' personal scrapbook," Harry said, his head turned away from the fire so all Hermione could see were the shadows upon his face and hooded eyes. "He owled it to me, saying that Sirius and my father would have wanted me to have it, especially since Sirius lost most of what he truly owned after being sent to Azkaban."
Producing his camera from nowhere, Harry brought the gadget to his eye and snapped a quick picture of Hermione, limed in firelight, ginger hair aflame. Grinning a little at Hermione's mildly affronted look, he merely said –
"Some things don't change with time, 'Moine."
..end..
AN: I apologize if I mistook any photography terms. I think Hermione would have known the two well enough to call them by first name, instead of calling Remus "Professor Lupin." Feedback and con/crit is always much beloved.