Title: Famous Last Words
Author: Nydevon
Summary: "I wouldn't go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid" (OotP, 647). How did the infamous Lily and James unite in an increasingly dangerous time? A hopefully canon story about one of the most celebrated couples in the wizarding world.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author Notes: This is the second posting of an old story I wrote. Many thanks to Angel (WinglessFlight) and the UR Review Team for inspiring me to keep writing this. Hopefully it's a little better than the first time (although I still hate writing adults). If you have any comments or constructive criticism please review. I love to read what you have to say. I'm also trying to keep the characters/events/wizarding world as true as possible to how JK Rowling created them. If there is a blatant mistake in cannon, please tell me what it is so I can check up on it. Thanks and enjoy!
Prologue
Sirius Black tapped his fingers against the desk. He could vaguely hear McGonagall's voice as she demonstrated the correct wrist placement of a well-done Anamorphic spell. He resisted rolling his eyes as she intoned yet another warning about the dangerousness of such transfiguration. Yawning, he tapped his fingers again. The material, simply put, was child's play.
Glancing around the classroom, Sirius could see that his fellow Sixth Years, with the exception of Lily Evans and Jay Patel in the front row, were slumped in their chairs in the same weary manner. It was one of those rare spring afternoons; the sky was a brilliant blue while the sun seemed to brighten even the most remote corners of the castle. Most of the Gryffindor First Years lay sprawled across the lakeshore, a small group shrieking at the nosy tentacles of the Giant Squid. Sirius stared longingly at them through the window. In a few hours time, he too would be roaming the grounds—although in a less lawful fashion. Perhaps they would even go to Hogsmeade tonight. He had wanted to pay another visit to the lovely Madam Rosmerta for some time now...she always knew where to scratch him behind the ears. He smiled saucily, remembering the last time, but then examined his watch. How he loathed double Transfiguration in the afternoon.
The classroom door flew open, knocking everyone out of his or her pre-weekend stupor. Sirius almost bared his teeth at the sight of the greasy-haired Slytherin. "Mr. Snape," McGonagall said, peering inquisitively at him from behind her spectacles. "How nice of you to join us."
Snape's eyes darted across the sea of curious faces until they rested on Sirius. Scowling, the Slytherin tugged at his left sleeve and turned towards McGonagall. "I was finishing an assignment with Professor Slughorn."
"Yes, Miss Evans was explaining to me that you are brewing Draught of the Living Death in N.E.W.T. Potions."
Sirius leaned back in his chair smoothly. "Too bad he didn't use it on himself," he said. Some nearby students twittered. Wormtail, reliable as ever, guffawed behind him.
His smile grew wider when he saw Snape's hand tighten into a fist. It had been far too long.
"That's enough, Black," McGonagall snapped, motioning for Snape to sit down quickly. She then narrowed her eyes at Sirius. "But as you appear so eager to exhibit yourself, perhaps you would like to demonstrate the lesson. You must be an expert seeing how you slept through it."
Sighing at the rather bothersome request, Sirius hauled himself up and sauntered over to the desk in front of the room. A small, white Persian was perched on its edge, its amber eyes glowering. It growled as Sirius approached. "What would you like me to do, Professor?" Sirius asked sweetly.
"Impress me."
Pointing his wand at the ugly fur-ball, Sirius murmured, "Animorpho," and smirked when the pinched, hairy face morphed into a vulture's. The class, excluding the Slytherins of course, burst into applause. Sirius looked over at McGonagall. "Satisfactory, Professor?" McGonagall gave a curt nod, eyes twinkling as she attempted to hold back a proud smile.
"Ten points to Gryffindor. You may be seated, Black. Try to stay awake next time."
As Sirius made his way to the back of the room, he caught Prongs winking at him. He cocked an eyebrow. This ought to be entertaining.
"Professor?" Prongs called out suddenly, barely raising his hand. "Can I give it a go?" Without waiting for a response, James Potter raised his wand and shot a jet of white-blue light at Snape. A moment later, the Slytherin's drawn, sallow face changed into a cockroach. "Personally, I think it's an improvement," James said. Wormtail burst out laughing while Sirius allowed a small smile. Snape's domed head hissed angrily.
Livid, McGonagall instantly waved her wand at Snape's face. "Homorpho!"
Unfortunately, Snape returned to his original unattractiveness. It didn't help that he was practically snarling at Prongs either.
McGonagall strode to the back of the classroom, towering over her brightest students. "Mr. Potter! Do you remember what I told you and the rest of your classmates the first day of Transfiguration?"
Making sure he had everyone's attention, James mussed his hair and offered casually, "Not that I recall, Professor. But I suppose you complimented me on something or another." He beamed as Sirius sniggered.
"That Transfiguration is one of the most complex and dangerous magic you will ever encounter at Hogwarts. I find it very disappointing that someone from my House does not heed that warning to this day. Detention, Potter." Ignoring the boy's protests about quidditch practice, McGonagall added smoothly, "Saturday and Sunday. Perhaps next time you won't take the safety of a fellow student so lightly."
Sirius laughed at him. "Bad luck, mate. Appears she wasn't too impressed."
McGonagall whirled around. "And since you feel so keen on the subject, Mr. Black, you can assist Mr. Snape on the material he has missed."
Sirius groaned loudly, immediately raising his hand in protest. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Prongs, unaffected by McGonagall's strict tone, grinning at him. "Professor, I can't work with Snivell—I mean Snape."
McGonagall scowled. "And why not?"
He stared pointedly at Severus "Snivellus" Snape. It was a well-known fact that the two sixth years despised each other and Sirius had no qualms in showing so—in or out of class. "It's Snape," he stressed again, shrugging.
He was unsurprised to hear all the Gryffindors laughing—Prongs the hardest. Not even Lily Evans, "Defender of the Masses," came to his rescue. Snape was, to say the least, unpopular.
Sirius smiled brazenly at McGonagall, knowing it would rattle her. They had an interesting relationship, the pair of them. Just last week he had celebrated his one hundredth detention with the woman. In response to his comment, however, she merely pursed her lips. Obviously the warm memories had been one-sided. "Well, Black, it appears your continual insolence has landed you in detention with Mr. Potter. I assume you know where by now—do not be late this time." Her slightly purple face only made Sirius' smile grow. He strongly suspected that every premature grey hair in McGonagall's tight bun was caused by either Prongs or himself over the course of their six years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Sirius even had an honorary washcloth to polish the trophy room during detention. "Now the rest of you, get to work. You will be assessed next class." Ignoring the collective groan, McGonagall circled the classroom, pausing only to prevent Mary McDonald from searing off her own eyebrows.
However, Sirius did not get to work. In fact, he merely leaned in his chair again, succeeding, as usual, in looking cool and haughtily attractive. The momentary diversion Prongs had supplied had long dissipated, leaving him bored and restless. He didn't bother looking at the textbook, A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration; he knew it by heart. And he especially did not need to review the introductory section on Animagi transformations.
Sirius surveyed his classmates as they strained over the rather elementary spell. He stopped at Prongs, who, like Sirius, ignored both the feline and open textbook before him. Instead, he had his eyes trained on the front of the room. Sirius rolled his eyes. The boy was still smitten with Evans.
From his seat, Sirius could see her chatting with Marlene McKinnon, her cat already transfigured. He supposed she was attractive—in a neat, prim sort of way (nothing at all like the smashingly leggy Veelas in the magazines Wormtail stashed under his pillow.) Her red hair was always carefully plaited, her tie perfectly straight. She reminded him of a younger, far more temperamental McGonagall. Scary, really.
Sirius snorted as the Gryffindor Prefect suddenly stopped talking and shot a look of pure disgust in James' direction. Evans had shot down every one of Prongs' "overtures" since Fifth Year after deeming her the greatest female specimen he had ever encountered (this was, of course, after he had accidentally peeked up her skirt one morning and was slapped with a nasty boils curse in return.) Unfortunately, there was no chance in Hell for the bloke. Evans had a stick so far up her arse, Sirius doubted it would ever see the light of day again.
Next to Prongs sat a Peter Pettigrew—or "Wormtail," as they called him. He was engrossed in the textbook, trying in vain to imitate the instructions. Sirius almost felt sorry for him. He and Prongs had understood that passage in their Third Year. However, it always went like that for Peter. He was a monstrosity at quidditch, a hopeless dueler and still, even to this day, managed to fall through the trap staircase. Despite this, the boy was loyal and perfectly affable, although a bit overeager. Nevertheless, Sirius imaged Prongs rather enjoyed Peter's unadulterated admiration, especially on days Evans knocked him down a peg or two.
He laughed as Peter's cat snapped at his wand hand, resulting in Prongs trying the pry open the little bugger's jaw. Normally, it would be Moony helping. However, since it was the day of the full moon, Remus Lupin was in the hospital wing. It would be only a few hours before the other boys would see him.
By their second year, Sirius and James had confronted Remus about being a werewolf. It wasn't difficult figuring out his condition; every month, their reserved dorm mate would come down with some mysterious disease or disappear to visit his chronically sick grandmother. Coincidentally, his absencescoincided exactly with the full moon.
So as overly ambitious Second Years, the two boys took it upon themselves to find a solution. There was no cure for the lycanthrope condition (or, according to Prongs, Moony's furry little problem) but one night, under the anonymity of James' invisibility cloak, the two boys founds something that appealed to their rebellious natures much more: Animagi transformations.
Apparently, a werewolf could only harm humans during its change, not animals.
And so began the three long years of researching and midnight trips to the Restricted Section of the Library. It was exciting and highly illegal. By their fifth year, they, Peter included, became the Marauders: Messers Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, werewolf and unregistered Animagi. Their full moon exploits were some of his happiest memories.
All of a sudden, Sirius felt a hard kick to his chair, pitching him violently backwards. He jerked his head around, coming face to face with a silver and green tie. Snape.
"What do you want?" Sirius spat, righting himself.
"We're partners, aren't we?" Snape proceeded to sit down, robes billowing strangely like some sort of bat. "Where's Lupin? Sick again?"
"Keep that abnormally large nose of yours in your own business." Sirius pushed some hair out of his eyes, determined to ignore the Slytherin. He found McGonagall scrutinizing them suspiciously. He smiled in his usual, easy manner at her and flipped through his textbook quietly as not to disturb the dormant feline in front of him. The professor, apparently appeased, resumed her attentions to McDonald and her partner.
"Are you so dimwitted, Black,you can't come up with something more creative?"
Sirius chuckled, not sparing him a glance. "Why bother with common vermin?" He smirked when he felt Snape stiffen.
Pausing, as if to restrain himself, Snape quieted for a moment and then asked, "He's not really sick is he, Black?"
Sirius stretched languidly, winking at a girl staring adoringly at him from across the room. The lie came easily. "No, as a matter of fact, he's not. He is visiting his ailing grandmother, as relatives are oft to do. But then again I guess you wouldn't understand. Family loyalty doesn't appear to be your strong suit." He had heard many stories about the Snape household. It was a wonder how the little berk hadn't turned out worst than he had.
For a brief moment, Snape's eyes smoldered but then returned to their usual stoniness. "Nor is it for you. You really are the black sheep of the family," he sneered.
"At least I don't worm my way into where I don't belong. Tell me, Snivellus, do Avery and Mulciber know that you're only half-blooded? Snape's not that popular a name for a wizard; they couldn't possibly have gotten you confused with some other greasy-haired git."
Snape ignored him pointedly but Sirius was still pleased by the slight resentment he heard in his voice. "Well, as we're on the topic of family secrets…tell me, Black, how is it that none of your followers know about mummy kicking you out last Christmas?"
Sirius tensed but made sure his voice was steady as he eyed the Slytherin warily. "Push off. You don't know anything."
Encouraged, Snape leaned forward, "Tsk, tsk. Always the disappointment. What would your family say? First a Gryffindor and now cavorting with half-breeds?"
Sirius went cold. He remained silent, though, as Snape began to muse, "I wonder what it felt like being burned off the family tree, knowing your own brother would rather have you dead." He paused, smirking at Sirius' clenched jaw. "Pathetic, Black. You're just a blemish on an old name. And here you are, strutting around, thinking you're better than everyone else—"
"I am, Snape. Especially you." Sirius interrupted. He laughed but it was short and cold. "I left because I'm not like them."
Snape looked at him in unabashed amusement. His black eyes board into him, gloating. "You're more like them than you care to believe," he said bitingly.
"You sniveling bastard—" Sirius reached quickly into his robe pocket, grabbing for his wand—
But Snape's was already pointed to his chest, his other hand clamped over Sirius'. "You make a scene with your little tricks here and McGonagall will see you. Don't toy with me, Black; I just want to know where Lupin is."
Snape's left forearm seemed to burn through his, even with the long sleeve that hid it. Suddenly, an idea began formulating in the back of Sirius' mind. A small sense of relish—like when he was designing an especially wicked prank—spread quickly through his veins. The bastard deserved any scare he got. Sirius leaned forward, trying to keep his eyes from shining too brightly. "Do you really want to know where Remus goes, Snape?" With his affirmative silence, Sirius continued with an almost unrepressed glee, "Tonight. The Whomping Willow. There's a knot at the base of the tree. Press it and follow the tunnel underground. You'll find everything you want to know." He backed away and smiled. Despite his mounting anticipation, though, Sirius could not ignore the unnatural feeling of unease rising in his throat. Pushing this aside, however, he smirked and resumed his role as the audacious Sirius Black by the time class ended.