Chapter 1.5: Tea House

"Not much to working it, is there?"

"Well, not if you work it like that, it isn't."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Children, move aside, I'm the one who will be using a wand here," Mr. Potter said with a hint of a smile on his face. Sirius and James moved aside to make room for him while eyeing each other, sizing up the opposition. Remus rolled his eyes as Peter grinned at the battle-like exchange.

"Look, she's waking up," Peter said suddenly. Ten eyes (which became twelve when Mrs. Potter walked in) trained on the girl's face. They suddenly opened wide, then shut after half a second, her body suddenly arching as if in pain. Not a sound left her mouth though, and all things happened too fast that nobody was sure what they had just witnessed.

"That was…" Peter trailed off.

"Was that a…convulsion of some sort?" James asked, the question directed to the air.

"We really should've taken her to the hospital," Remus said, settling back more comfortably into the pillow cocoon the Potters had placed him in. He hadn't realized he'd been holding a breath until he released it, afraid of the pain that would come with expanding and contracting his chest as he breathed.

"And how would we have explained that? 'Hi, we found this girl in a closed park in the middle of the night and we think that it has something to do with the fact that our friend is a werewolf'? Yeah, that would've gone swell," Sirius said a bit sharply. He was still a little grumpy about the previous night, not about any particular thing, but about the whole situation. It was unfair that Remus was a werewolf, a truth that had been hard for Sirius to accept. Remus didn't deserve such a thing, with his quiet demeanor and easy-going acceptance. Werewolves were vicious, angry, and unrelenting, a fate not compatible, not meant for Remus. It was also unfair that because of this curse, a girl was now in the living room of the Potter house, injured and semi-unconscious—and it was this part that nobody really dared to utter. It pained them all to realize that all the evidence pointed to one attacker, the culprit being Reginald (as the Marauders have dubbed the werewolf-Remus).

"That's enough, Sirius," Mrs. Potter said quietly but firmly. She moved closer to the girl's side, rearranging the blankets covering her.

"It's okay," Remus said, bowing his head slightly.

Sirius stood there for a second, looking at the ground, and the hard line of his mouth softened as he let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, Remus," he said, running a hand through his knotted hair. He moved to sit by Remus' bandaged foot, placing a hand on it as he leaned back into the sofa. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Remus reassured him, a small smile on his face as he observed Sirius' fingers tapping the bandages, "I know you don't mean it."

"That's touching, Remus, but we've got larger issues than Sirius' lack of filtering," James said jokingly.

"Really? I think Sirius' lack of filter is a fairly big issue. That needs to be addressed soon, or else I don't know what kind of trouble he's going to get into," Mr. Potter chimed in with a grin. "Tea, anyone?" he said as Sirius gave a good-natured scowl.

"I could do with a cup," Peter said.

"Me too."

"And me."

"Love you, dear."

"Thanks for the offer."

"Five orders of tea it is." Mr. Potter swung into the kitchen, three teenagers in tow.

"It was lucky that Mr. Tover took over park duties," James said as his father grabbed the kettle.

"Otherwise we would probably be building an iron cage in the basement, right Dad?" Sirius said cheekily.

"This kid," Mr. Potter admonished, nudging Sirius in the back of the head. The boy only grinned.

"Let's get him a thank-you card," James continued.

"I don't think he needs one of those," Sirius said, his head resting on his hands.

"Fine, then what do you suggest?"

"How about you get him some dragon-scale gloves? I think he needs them for when he's taking care of the herbs in his greenhouse," Peter suggested. Suddenly there was a short-lived scream and then, whimpering, whispering.

"Guys?" Remus called, his voice tinged with a slight nervousness.

"What happened?" Mr. Potter asked in an urgent but calm voice, striding into the living room. The rest of the Marauders were close on his heels.

So, I know it's not much, but...I'm working on it. There's just no inspiration and holy crap I didn't realize that I published the first chapter almost two years ago. My bad. =/