A/N: Just letting you know that three Ravenclaws aren't the only houses I've changed. :D Eileen Prince is one that's already been pointed out. Andromeda may be one (since Sirius does claim his entire family was in Slytherin at some point – but that may also have been an exaggeration) – and I can think of one other character it may be significant for (you'll find out in due course :D). But the three Ravenclaws are the main ones, and who the story largely follows.

The House of Solitude

Chapter 2
The Train

Lily marched to the back of the carriages, dragging her trunk along and Severus followed, listening to her rant. It was somewhat amusing, considering all of what she knew about the houses came from either him or Hogwarts: a History and her opinion would probably change once she got to school. But just hearing her talk was enough, and all he had to do was nod and make noises in turn and she continued on.

Finally, she stopped at a door. 'This one's only got one kid in it,' she said, 'and he looks like a first year. Try our luck?'

Severus just shrugged. He'd rather an empty compartment, but finding one of those after the train started moving was unlikely. And this guy didn't have anyone to get into a conversation (or an argument for that matter) with.

He left Lily to knock on the door, then poke her head in when the boy inside looked up. 'Hi.' She smiled kindly, but not over the top. 'I'm Lily, and this is Severus. May we sit here? We've…sort of had an argument with the people we were sharing a compartment with.' That was an understatement as far as Severus thought, but there was no need to explain the situation in detail. Short and succinct explanations generally worked best. Especially when the question was: 'where the fuck have you been?' and, on occasion, a can or glass thrown. His answer was, without fail, 'out'.

The boy looked at both of them, then nodded and ducked behind his book again.

'Thanks.' Lily smiled, then dragged her trunk in. Severus followed and, together, they got their trunks on to the overhead rack. The other boy didn't get up to help, though, if Severus wasn't mistaken, he was peeking around his book. And Severus thought it was unlikely. He recognised the tense neck and hands, and the way the book was held. His mother did the same thing when he watched him. Like she couldn't risk or bear looking at him face on.

His lips unconsciously formed a scowl. He hated that look.

The boy withdrew further in to his magazine.

So he noticed.

Lily however seemed oblivious. 'Tell me more about magic,' she urged.

Severus looked at the other boy again. His eyes were focused on his page, not blinking. He looked back at Lily. 'What about magic?' he asked.

She hummed a little. 'What comes after Hogwarts?' she asked.

His mother had collected pamphlets too, and Severus had read them. Pamphlets for jobs in the magical world, jobs that required OWLs or NEWTs or just graduating. His mother had taken them all but pursued none of them. He'd looked at them anyway.

'There's becoming a Master or a Mistress in any field,' he started. 'An expert: doing research, capable of the most difficult and obscure bits of magic in that area…'

'Like a PhD?' Lily questioned.

Severus shrugged. He might have grown up in the muggle world, but he wasn't too familiar with life after high school and his knowledge of high school was minimalistic at best. Lily, whose parents were well educated and who'd been the sort of student who aspired to something great – and she was still that sort of person; she only had a larger field to play with now. She was eager. She had support. She had a future. It was only information she lacked – but he didn't doubt she would be fast in obtaining that knowledge. Not only from him – because he was almost at his limit with what he could tell her about the wizarding world – but from books, other people…and from her own experiences.

He wondered if he had that as well. She would support him, probably. Unless she found other friends, better friends. Unless she drifted away from him – and, at Hogwarts, there were far too many things to separate them. The thing that had separated Eileen Prince from her noble family had been her Sorting that first afternoon at Hogwarts. That same Sorting could split them up as well. Both of them could easily go to Ravenclaw – but they could also just as easily not. He could go to Slytherin. He didn't think Lily would. The Lily he knew, anyhow. She was too bold. Too confronting. And too nice. What he knew of Slytherin didn't suit her.

Gryffindor, the arch-enemy of Slytherin however, could call her…and keep her fiery spirit alight.

Whether that meant that Severus, if sorted into Slytherin, would be kept apart, remained to be seen.

.

They were talking about the future, Remus noted. Light conversation: just talking about the routes one could take in study, the routes that led to professional degrees, to places in the Wizarding world. But a future he could never have. Even the present was so flimsy and fragile a thing that it could vanish without firmly ingraining itself into his life. That he could be discovered and turned back before even reaching the school, or any time within. Or Professor Dumbledore or one of the teachers could change their mind and send him on his way – or someone could inform the Ministry and drag him away in chains –

He shivered. The other boy – Severus – was still explaining things to the girl, Lily. They didn't seem to have noticed…but Severus had been looking at him earlier. Had he realised something? Remus had found his nervousness increasing but, luckily, Lily had drawn his attention way, inviting him in to conversation. But as the nervousness faded, melancholy settled in. None of those options were viable for him. The label of a werewolf was not something he'd be able to hide forever. It was too early to know what his strengths and weaknesses would be – or even if he'd have the chance to develop them – but they still wouldn't be viable. He'd have to register once he reached adulthood and no Ministry department would take him. And anywhere he worked, he'd have to miss at least three days a month and they would tire quickly of him or note the pattern and cast him aside. And being a Master in any area – assuming he could maintain the façade of a normal student that long, once it came to apprenticeships he would have the same issue as any work. The Muggle world might accommodate him. It might not. Chances are he'd be like all the other werewolves still alive and living in the colonies full time. Like animals, wild and unrestrained. Slowly becoming less human with every transportation.

He shivered again. This time, silence fell. They'd noticed. They were both staring at him. His breath caught, and he raised his book so it covered his face and fought the instinct to peek around it. He couldn't; he couldn't see the surprise on their faces, or the suspicions in their eyes.

But he could block out voices that easily. 'Are you okay?' Female. Lily's voice.

He remained silent a moment, just breathing, just listening to his heart beat so treacherously loud. The silence grew. He felt awkward. Hot. And it was rude to not answer a simple question like that. He knew it. He took a deep breath and answered: 'I'm…okay.' He lowered the book a little as well, so he could see. That battle he'd lost. They both stared at him, one face worried, the other impassive.

Severus snorted and climbed on his seat. Lily gave him a curious look but seemed to understand something. She got up too, coming over to him, feeling his brow. He flinched at the touch but she seemed to think it was only because her hands, to him, felt cold.

The truth was she was a stranger and he was not used to strangers touching him. They reminded him far too much of nightmares: of unknown hands coming to drag him away, of chains, of a silver axe swishing down, of fur bursting from his body and other such forms, all howling on a cold night, howling their humanity away – and he always wondered, in warmer and calmer nights when the moon wasn't full or even close to full, why the idea of being surrounded by other werewolves was more frightening than being executed for being one. Was it a grim acceptance? Or did the final scene suggest something…more.

The other boy was standing next to him too now. Severus, Remus reminded himself. For the moment he only had to learn two names – and maybe he wouldn't need them once he got to Hogwarts as well. Who knew. Remembering names was the least of his worries after all – though it wasn't something he'd ever had to do for a long time before.

And he'd tried to make himself forget those ones he'd remembered earlier. They'd done him no good. They only made him feel lonely – and he was lucky his father was still there: the only figure in his life he needed. Or so he told himself. He knew it was a lie, just like his father knew it was a lie. That was why he sat on this train now, on the way to Hogwarts and far away from him, even with all those fears and insecurities.

Severus thrust something in to his hands, taking his book in the same movement and leaving him exposed. Cold air stung, though that was an impossibility. There were no windows open in their compartment and the door was closed. Remus looked. It was a small phial of something. 'Pepper-up potion,' Severus explained. Lily smiled encouragingly too. 'It'll make you feel better,' she said.

Potions were expensive, and yet this stranger was just giving one to him. He stared at the phial, then flushed. They were still staring at him, and he hadn't his book to hide behind this time. He wanted it. But he wouldn't always have a book to hide behind, so he had to fight it. Fight the scrutiny. Appear normal.

'T-thank you.'

Severus looked sullen. Remus stared at the phial some more. 'It's not poisoned,' Severus snapped.

Remus turned even further red as Lily laughed. 'Don't tease,' she scolded – though it was a playful teasing. They were obviously close friends. 'It'll make you feel better,' she coaxed. 'And Sev is brilliant at making potions. It's one of the things that we can do in the summer holidays, you know.'

'Lily is good at potions too.' Severus turned away, and Remus relaxed a little as one pair of eyes moved away from him. 'Potions is easy.'

'It is rather boring though,' Lily remarked.

'It isn't.'

And now both their attention was off of Remus, and he carefully sniffed at the vial. It smelled like Pepper-Up potion, the few times a year he needed it. They didn't use potions often. His father explained that his body could become addictive and ineffective if used after every moon so they only used it on particularly bad ones. It was the same with most potions: spells were better because they were less lasting, and the body forgot faster. It applied for a good number of spells, even the unforgivable. His father explained it was why the Avada Kevadra never left a mark; it never needed to hit more than once.

Though he hadn't had a Pepper-Up in quite a while, so that argument was a little moot.

But potions were expensive as well. To buy, in any case. To make was a different story. If he could become proficient in it, they could narrow the cost down to just ingredients. His father was a hopeless potion-maker, though a proficient wand-caster particularly when the situation called for it. He could learn to be good, to make up for that. And become chained to something other than the moon as well.

He shivered and recapped the potion, holding it at arm's length. The pair broke off their playful argument and stared at him. 'It's made correctly.' Severus was frowning, first at the vial, then at him.

Remus stuttered unintelligibly a moment, before swallowing and saying: 'I had one before leaving home. I just…almost forgot.'

Lily's face lit up in understanding and she took the potion and replaced it in Severus' trunk. Severus gave him an odd look and Remus tried to control his face. Did he notice the lie? Was he hurt? Offended. Or suspicious?

But then Severus tossed his book at him, turned around and sat back down, and Lily mentioned something about a nap and Remus found himself nodding minutely and turning to a random page – because he hadn't really been reading – and hiding behind it again as Lily coaxed Severus back into a conversation.

But they were still casting looks at him and he at them, and when he thought his poor nerves couldn't take any more, he closed his eyes and recited the lunar calendar: the one thing he hadn't wasted any time in committing to mind.

.

Severus was used to people thinking they were above him, but there was something different about this boy. He had come with only his father, he remembered – provided that man with him had been his father. It might not have been. He'd come to the station with a man and a woman that weren't his family after all. But he'd come with Lily…and that sister of hers. There hadn't been anyone else with those two. But single parents were rare – but rarer still was both parents not coming to see their child off for their first day of Hogwarts. Or so the station had told.

He hadn't seen any other single-parent pairs. And his behaviour wasn't stand-offish in the sense that he was above others – not like the two they'd left behind. Rather, it was as though he was inferior in some way, and apart from slightly worn clothes (which were still in a better condition than his own) and a slightly feverish expression, Severus could see no reason why. But most reasons why one felt inferior were below the skin and below physical appearance.

And his pride was smarting a little at the refusal of his potion. He'd felt awkward enough offering it – though there was a trial of reasons why someone wouldn't want to accept it. They were expensive to buy (though not so to make). It could have been brewed incorrectly – and he hadn't had any official training after all though he'd digested his own potions many a time. Then again, the boy sitting across from him didn't know that.

Or he might be telling the truth in that he'd had a Pepper-Up potion, but Severus didn't think so. He wasn't sure why he didn't think so either. It wasn't like he had any particular talent at sniffing out lies. Just sniffing out discomfort. Just sniffing out servitude, weakness. But if it had been his mother, she would have drank it at a glare from him. She wouldn't have handed it back.

Severus decided to himself that it didn't matter. There were a lot of students, and he didn't need to know all of them. He might get away with not knowing any of them. Just Lily.

But that was a naïve idea and he recognised that.

Hogwarts was a place where he could grow. Where he had to grow. Some things he did want to grow in. Others he did not. He wanted to grow in power and age. He didn't want to grow in the sense that he lost the few scant things he already had – or lost their value. Like Lily. Like this sweet innocent sense of going to school for the first time, despite all else.

He didn't want to lose those.

Lily suddenly smiled at him. 'Your smile's beautiful, you know,' she said. 'You really should smile more often.'

He touched his own lips. They were smiling too.

'So you tell me,' he said steadily.

No, he didn't want to lose those at all.

'We'll stay friends, no matter what House we're in, right?'

'Of course.' And her grin grew wider than any he'd ever given in his life.

And he relaxed a little. How could he not believe her with a radiant smile like that?

.

Remus looked between his…companions, if he could call them that. They were engrossed in conversation again. Lightly teasing. Smiling at each other. They'd forgotten all about him perhaps, and it was good like that. If they saw too much…

But, at the same time, he was a little jealous. He didn't have anyone like that. He couldn't have anyone like that: someone close to his age and a friend. Someone to comfort him. Someone to chat with. Someone who wasn't his father who had to be everybody to him because there was no-one else. No-one who would want to help a werewolf. Remus often wondered whether his father would want to help him if he wasn't his son – but that was a silly thought. His job was to find and help creatures like werewolves. That's how he'd invoked Greyback's wrath.

In that sense, Remus had been remarkably lucky that it was John Lupin that was his father and not somebody else. Because John Lupin had worked with enough werewolves to know them, to not recoil in disgust, to not sign off the papers for a silver axe with a flourish – and it would have only been too easy… But no. John Lupin knew the hardships but he also knew what to do to get them through it. He wasn't going to abandon Remus to what he saw every day through his work.

'You're going to live at home with me and get a decent education and be happy,' his father would say fiercely. 'I swear it.'

But things hadn't gone that way, Remus reflected. And not the alteration they'd expected either. It wasn't the Ministry dragging him away because his luck had finally ran out and he'd toed some invisible line. It was the chance for something he'd never even dreamed he'd have. He was lucky. He knew he was. No other werewolf had set foot in Hogwarts and, if things worked out, perhaps all werewolf children would walk through those walls – and be free to do so. They wouldn't have to guard their secret like he. Perhaps, there would one day be a world where it wouldn't even matter any more.

He was lucky, and it was incredibly selfish of him to wish for more.

But watching those two – that girl and that boy – sitting across from him, interacting so sweetly as only close friends could, he couldn't help but wish he didn't carry this ugly secret and its ugly scars with him, so he could be free to find a friend like that as well.

But it would never be. And he told himself that fiercely, blinking back tears.

And then he froze. They were staring at him again. He must have let out some noise.

'Are you okay?' Lily called. 'Are you sure you don't need anything?'

He gulped. He held his breath, then breathed deeply. Once, twice. Okay, no need to make them more suspicious. 'I'm okay.' Damn it. His voice quavered. He quickly fished for an excuse. 'This is just my first time at boarding school.' Yep, that should be reasonable.

'It's scary, sometimes,' Lily said sympathetically. 'Trying new things. Going new places. I suppose I'll miss my family a lot as well.'

Severus snorted. 'Not Petunia.'

Lily hit his arm. 'Of course Tuney too. And she'll come around. Don't you worry.'

Severus muttered something that sounded like: 'I'm not worried.'

Remus watched them both.

'Tuney – Petunia – is my older sister,' Lily explained. 'I'm Muggleborn and the only witch in the family.'

'Oh…' Remus wondered if he was supposed to say more. Now that they were paying attention to him again, his footholds were unsteady.

Severus was scrutinising him again as well, and he shrank behind his book.

'She really wanted to come to Hogwarts,' Lily continued. She didn't seem to notice – or else she was used to it. 'Hey, do family ever visit the castle?'

'Muggles can't see Hogwarts,' Severus said. 'I don't know about wizards visiting.'

Remus didn't know either. 'How about you?' He started. Stared at Lily. 'Siblings,' she clarified.

'N-no.' Then, seeing the look she gave him – was it encouraging? Or offended? – he added: 'My mother died giving birth to me.'

'Oh.' She stifled a gasp. 'I'm so sorry.'

'Yeah…'

Remus looked at Severus. He knew that tone. The tone when one had no idea what to say. The tone he'd been using all train ride.

A knot in his stomach relaxed. He had no idea why, but that uncomfortableness made him feel a little more comfortable.

'It's okay,' he said. 'Dad tells me lots of stories about her.'

And there was a safe topic, because nothing about his mum has to do with werewolves.

But that topic comes to a standstill too, because all Severus has to say about his mother is that she was a Hufflepuff.

'She's weak,' he added, after a moment of awkward silence.

'I think she's strong,' Lily offered after another one.

'What about your father?' Remus asked, hoping to break it. Now that sound had settled, silence felt even more a stifling thing.

But he'd missed the signs – or he hadn't recognised them. Severus' face darkened and his reply was vehement.

Remus, whose own father was the centre of his universe, could not even begin to understand that hatred expressed.

They didn't talk for the rest of the trip – except Lily, trying to coax words out of both of them.

'He's not angry at you,' she comforted. 'His father is just a touchy subject, you see.'

No, he didn't see. He also didn't see why she continued to try and talk to him. Why Severus had offered the potion. If they knew –

There it was, he realised. They didn't know.

He had to keep it that way.

He raised his book and Lily frowned and returned to her own seat, taking the dismissal. And she seemed to have taken the dismissal to heart because the only times she spoke to him after that were to ask him if he wanted anything off the trolley – he didn't – and to ask where the bathrooms were, because Severus didn't know. Unfortunately, Remus didn't know either.

And Severus didn't say a word to him.

.

He was being childish, but he couldn't care less. He didn't want to talk about his father. He didn't want to think about him. Here was a place where Tobias Snape couldn't reach, couldn't ruin.

Apparently he could. His mouth now had a bitter taste in it, despite the chocolate frog Lily had given him.

And he didn't like chocolate, usually. But he'd thought it would wash the taste out. It didn't. He almost wished he'd asked for Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. Surely there was something revolting enough in there.

But he decided he didn't want them. Certainly not enough to go up to the front where she'd be with the driver. Though he might have passed a bathroom along the way if he had. Then he would have been able to answer Lily's question.

Though a reasonable part of his mind pointed out that they would have probably noticed one if they'd passed it when stalking away from Potter and his friend.

But Lily would find them. She was good at finding things. And Severus didn't need to know where there were. It didn't matter to him that there was a scrawny little boy on the other end of the compartment.

He stood and pulled the robes down.

.

Remus realised that they were approaching Hogwarts when Severus pulled out his robes. Of course, they had to be in uniform when they arrived. He'd totally forgotten that.

He had scars all over him. He couldn't disrobe in front of the other…but there was no way to explain that he couldn't. He would have to –

His father's calm words echoed in his mind. He clung to them thankfully. His wand was in his sleeve. He pulled it out, behind the book so that no-one would notice the smell. A Notice-Me-Not spell, ironically enough. Though he'd had to whisper. Severus' shoulders stiffened, but he didn't look around.

He whispered them again, tracing his scars. He couldn't reach the back ones. He'd have to make sure his back was always to a wall. Something that couldn't be suddenly removed to surprise him. As for the front – the charms should keep anyone who didn't know they were there from noticing. Carriage-mates. Dorm-mates.

What did one call not-friends then, he wondered? Mates seemed too casual a term. Too endearing.

It wasn't made for people like him.

He quickly changed before his spells were put to the test.

.

Sirius' official introducing to James Potter had gone surprisingly well. Maybe it helped that he'd more or less sworn of Slytherin.

James looked thrilled at the idea of corrupting the Black's heir to Gryffindor. Sirius had a feeling the senior Mr Potter wouldn't be seeing it that way if the news ever reached him. Nor would his own parents be seeing it that way – but he'd more or less dug his own grave already, so why not make a friend out of it.

'You're making damn sure none of my relatives put up that horrid slow music at my funeral,' he said, stabbing a finger in James' direction, 'because, mark my words, I'll be going home in a coffin once they hear I've been sorted into Gryffindor.'

They had a good laugh about that, because Sirius was mostly joking. He wondered if James would be laughing if there was more seriousness in his tone. More seriousness in his heart.

But he couldn't allow himself to be more serious, because then he really would be doomed.

'It'll be fine,' James said dismissively. 'Pureblood society today isn't like the old days. Your parents can't kill you and string you over their gate for being sorted into the wrong House.'

Which was a small comfort, because if that had still been acceptable in Pureblood society, he was sure his parents would have done so.

'At least Ravenclaw would have saved my hide,' Sirius said mournfully – though he quite liked the idea of Gryffindor. He always had. That was his problem – and why he couldn't deny Gryffindor in the end. If the Hat put him anywhere else, it was because it had screws loose. 'But I couldn't sit still in front of a book. It'd kill me.'

'Unless you were plotting a good prank.' James nodded solemnly. 'There's an idea. Hogwarts is going to be great for pranking.'

'You'll have to catch me up on pranking education. I've been on my best behaviour since my Hogwarts letter came.'

Sirius was being serious that time, but James still laughed. But the idea was amusing, so there was no reason not to laugh. 'Let's trade stories,' he suggested. 'That's a sureproof way to make sure we're both caught up on our pranking education.'

And they did. And Sirius had to admit that James had a vast repertoire that Sirius had never scraped. And the pranks were far kinder. Gentler. Things he wouldn't have thought were pointless – but maybe, faced with the entire student body that hadn't really done anything to him at this point, it was okay. Maybe some of these would be good for Regulus too. Goodness knew that boy was so high-strung, he couldn't do any of his usual pranks on him.

On James' part, he might have found the stories a little frightening because he fell a little quiet, and Sirius wondered if he'd succeeded pushing a potential ally away –

But then the boy grinned. 'Sounds like a war at your place.'

'Something like that.' And Sirius was relief.

Yes, it was a war over at his place, but here was someone his mother would absolutely hate but still had to accept (because being Pureblood reigned above all else) and they were on the way to being partners in crime. The first crime would be being sort into Gryffindor. The second crime would be to prank the whole school.

'Let's get this party started,' he said with conviction. There was still that awful feeling in his gut, but it was dripping away. He had new ideas for his cousins. They probably wouldn't work on his parents – but how wonderful would it be if they did? It would be a glorious world, where the child didn't have to be a slave of the parents: of their thoughts, of their teachings. Where he could be a lovely white pigeon flying off to join birds of his own colour – other white birds, instead of the black crows…

It was unfortunately Ravenclaw with the bird on their emblem, but the Ravenclaw eagle was brown, not black. Snakes actually weren't that suitable, he reflected. His mother's screeches were more akin to banshees – or crows, as it were. Snakes only hissed. Low, quiet sounds that made even the bravest man without anti-venom wet his pants. But his mother hadn't been a bird. She'd been a snake.

Of course, that was before the school had been "polluted", as she claimed, by one Albus Dumbledore.

That was enough to give Sirius a highly favourable opinion of the man.

Especially when he found a chocolate frog with his name on it.

'You think he likes pranks?' he wondered contemplatively.

'Dumbledore?' James peeked over his shoulder. 'I'd say so, mate. Granddad went to school with him, you know. He was a Gryffindor too.'

And that was the clincher. 'I'd better get into Gryffindor,' Sirius said. 'Who knows. Maybe I'll get his bed.'

'Or me.'

And that was a hilarious idea.

'Wonder if we can charm those curtains somehow. I hear they're horrid.'

'Charming's easy, mate. Charming how is the question.'

'Indeed it is. Indeed it is.'

And until they had to change into their robes, they plotted exactly what they should do with the infamous Gryffindor curtains.

It made that knot in Sirius' stomach loosen, then disappear almost completely, to be replaced by stitches.