A/N: I couldn't sleep the other night and this sort of came to me. It's harsh and a bit rough and un-beta'd, so sorry for any mistakes. I quite like it though.
Warnings: strong language and smoking. If that doesn't float your proverbial boat, don't read it.
Disclaimer: Um, still not Jo Rowling. I keep checking, it's actually quite disheartening.
"What's it like?" she asks. Smoke curls in tendrils from the cigarette between her lips, barely visible in the half light.
He assumes she must be talking to him since they're the only ones awake, and when she speaks to James she touches his chest or his arm or his cheek or a hand winds round his neck, fingers in his hair.
"What's what like?"
Lily hands him back the cigarette. There's a faint red stain around the end from where it's been against her lipsticked mouth, and although he's slightly disgusted to be doing something as civil as sharing smokes with her, he shrugs and takes a drag from the thing anyway. He's sure he can taste strawberry or cherry or whatever flavour her lip salve was amongst the tobacco.
"Having it all," she says, and he's still mystified. He raises an eyebrow. She blinks at him and sighs. Finally: "Being a Pureblood."
Sirius lets out a bitter laugh. "I'm not sure having pure blood equates to having it all, Evans," he scorns, but she doesn't cower under his words. She lets them sink in and puts her hand out for the cigarette that he reluctantly hands over.
"Maybe not," she decides. There's no sound as their housemates sleep around them, the faint snoring from the boys beside him the only indication that the two have company.
"Do you want to know what it's like being Muggle-born?" Lily asks, and he feels like he's under interrogation.
"Look, Evans, no offence but...no. I don't. All I want is to smoke in peace, with only the outraged portraits for company, thanks."
She returns the cigarette and exhales.
More silence. Sirius takes the final drags and stubs it in a nearby half-empty glass.
"Is that why you hate me?" she says later, in a quiet voice. Sirius starts, thinking she'd fallen asleep. He can see her silhouette from here: the curves of her face and chest, her hand meeting James' hand that rests on her stomach, the smoother outline of her legs and feet under the blanket.
"Because you're Muggle-born?" he says, to clarify.
She notes that he doesn't deny hating her and nods.
"Nah."
Lily turns her head toward him, and now her face is in darkness; the half-moonlight filtering in from the window illuminates his features but not hers. She can see him perfectly.
"It's not that, Evans."
She hums, but he can't tell what she means by it.
"You must be one of the only ones, then."
Ah. That's what it means.
"Look, it's three am. I don't want a discussion about how fucked up our society is, alright? I want to sleep."
"If you wanted to sleep, Sirius, you would have done so hours ago." For the first time this evening, she sounds agitated. Annoyed.
He's pleased.
"What about what I want?" Lily presses. "I can't ask James, because he won't give me a straight answer. He'll just spout all this equality bullshit and tell me I'm beautiful."
Sirius snorts. "Right."
She waits to see if he's going to roll away from her and fade into sleep. He doesn't. Lily scoots nearer to him and he knows, even though he can't see them, that her eyes are bright and excited.
"What's it like?"
"Truthfully? I wouldn't know. I'm not exactly your average Pureblood."
"You're a Black, Sirius. Toujours Pur. You're exactly the person I should be talking to."
He sighs and rubs a hand over his face.
"You're bloody annoying, you know that?"
"Cut me."
"What?"
"Cut me, cut us both, and you'll see. The blood that runs in my veins is no different to yours, but yours is pure and mine -" she scoffs. "Mine is muddy. Why?"
"I already told you, Evans: I'm not in the mood for politics."
"I don't care. What's it like? I want to know. I want to know what I'm missing."
"Magical ancestry," Sirius supplies. "Will that do?"
He hears her sigh. "It won't fucking do, Sirius."
Beside him Peter lets out a raspy snore and turns over. Across the room, Mary snuggles closer into Reg.
"I know," he says, and there's a sense of incompleteness. Because if the darkest hour is just before the dawn, it seems fitting that they should be discussing this now, but he doesn't want to talk about it with her. Lily's too understanding, too willing to play friends, and he doesn't want to let his guard down and give her the ammunition.
"What's it like to have everything handed to you on a bloody plate?" Her tone is sharper now, more desperate. Somehow they both know they won't have this conversation again. "What's it like to be treated with respect just because of your bloody name, or - or, to not have to need to work a bloody day in your life because you've got old money to pay for everything? What's it like not to have to defend yourself on your morals or behaviour, because of something you said or did, but because you have to fight for your right to survive every fucking minute of every fucking day? Sirius?" He tastes smoke, tastes her words. "Fuck!"
She's angry now; he's made her angry with his refusal to answer and he hears the harshness of her whisper.
"Forget it," Lily says, and turns on her back again. He can finally see her face once more and the tear he can see rolling down her cheek almost - almost - makes him set down his first brick. Merlin knows she's put down many, but a bridge can't be built from one side.
It's so long before he's formulated an answer that he hopes she's gone to sleep. "Evans?" he tries tentatively. "It's - it's not what it seems. There's pressure, and expectation, and history, and -" he breaks off. "So many fucking skeletons in the closet you're afraid to open the door."
She faces him again, expressionless.
"It's cold. Most of them are heartless, and prejudiced beyond fuck."
She raises an ironic eyebrow. "Really?"
Sirius stops, and she chides herself for breaking his flow. She moves closer to him again, the darkness curling around them from both sides till all that's left is him and her and discussion.
"I'm not ashamed, you know." She whispers it boldly, and he believes her. "I love my parents so much, and they gave me a happy childhood. To refuse them now would do them a disservice, so I refuse to be ashamed."
He's slightly in awe of her but mostly he wants to roll his eyes.
"Take off your rose-tinted specs, Evans. There's more to the war than your parents."
"Not to me there isn't."
There's such passion in her voice and he recognises a streak of loyalty that he's only seen once before, in Prongs, and he looks at her for a long time.
James stirs and rolls over, kissing her bare shoulder before closing his eyes once more.
"I come between you, don't I?"
"Evans -"
"No, Sirius. Fuck, even lying here I'm between you. I'm not like that, though. I know you'll have to trust me on that, but - I mean, he does. Isn't that enough for you to go on?"
Sirius doesn't answer. "You're lucky, Evans. Luckier than you'd think. You didn't grow up in a house of hate where everyone has this internalised prejudice against everyone else. My cousin Bella used to practice the Cruciatus curse on me and one time my dear old Mum got so angry she set the sitting room on fire. Purebloods're mental, all of us."
Lily chews the inside of her cheek. "I just wanted to know." Her voice is small, uncertain. "I'm sor -"
"Don't fucking apologise. It's not your fault any more than it is mine, so I hope you aren't expecting anything from me."
There's been a shift and they can both sense it. Not just in the light; the moon's glow is fading and the sunrise is spreading a hopeful light into the room; but also between the two of them. It's infinitesimal and undefinable, but they can both feel it.
"I won't," Lily says suddenly. Pax. A truce. She reaches over and her fingers squeeze his briefly, then she lets go and rolls over so she's facing away from him.
Sirius waits for her breathing to even out and the rustling of the covers to stop before he falls asleep, and maybe, he thinks, just as he drifts off, his first stone has been set down.
Reviews would be lovely. :)
