Chapter 3 of 6: The Hangover
The next morning, Sirius Black woke to an empty bedroom and a hellish hangover. By the time he had hauled himself out of bed and donned his trademark biker jacket, he was late for breakfast and in a foul temper. Heads turned as he stormed into the Great Hall and, whether it was looks of hatred, amusement, lust or admiration that came his way, he glowered at everyone equally. Though his leather jacket, tight black jeans and Muggle tattoos on his wrists attempted to prove the opposite, no one witnessing Sirius' countenance that morning could be in any doubt what family tree he had sprung from.
Each pound of his leather boots on the flagstones made his headache pulse more intensely. He headed towards the Gryffindor table - where Peter Pettigrew was eagerly flapping his hands at the empty space beside him - and pointedly ignored the dangerous look being shot his way by Professor McGonagall. After last night, he'd had enough of her righteous scolding to last him a lifetime. Sirius sat down heavily at the long table and noted with irritation that, despite the lateness of the hour that Saturday morning, breakfast had not yet materialised.
"Thanks for waking me up, pricks" Sirius growled at his friends who, like a significant proportion of the other students in the hall that morning, looked considerably worse for wear.
"Sorry man" Said James who was massaging his temples, his hair sticking up even more wildly than usual. "I had to get up early for one-on-one training with the new seeker. And it was bloody awful, if you want to know. Lucinda was still drunk. She ended up dive bombing the ground thinking a dropped galleon was the snitch"
"I went to see Irene" Peter burst out, eager to exonerate himself before James began one of his customary Quidditch rants. Peter's voice sounded hoarse and scratchy which, Sirius presumed, must have been from all the spewing up he'd done the night before. Peter sat with his shoulders hunched - as if making himself as small as possible would save him from the wrathful glances that McGonagall was still shooting at them.
"I had to check in with Madam Pomfrey" Remus whispered. His pale, exhausted face was troubled as he contributed his excuse. "I woke up with…with…scratches all over"
"Again, mate?" Said James, frowning. "At this rate, we'll have to transfigure your hands into carrots or something before you go to bed"
Sirius snorted at this image and was about to contribute his own idea for how Remus might solve this predicament, when a hush fell over the room. Dumbledore had gracefully stood up and approached the lectern. It was not usual for the Headmaster to make a speech at what should have been a normal breakfast. Sirius groaned inwardly. This was a bad sign…
"Well" Dumbledore began, genially. "I trust you are all feeling fresh and wholesome this fine June morning" His periwinkle blue eyes twinkled as they travelled over the amassed faces of the mussy-haired and bleary-eyed teenagers that peered guiltily back at him. "I confess I had rather a turn this morning when I was informed that history was made last night in our dear castle"
James' eyes caught Sirius' and they quickly looked away from one another, biting their cheeks to keep themselves from grinning: setting records was their speciality.
"Yes indeed" Said Dumbledore as a murmur - part confused, part nervous - started to spread through the assembled students. "The largest sum of house points deducted in a single night since the great House Cup riot of 1899. After conferring with Professors McGonagall, Sprout and Flitwick, I'm afraid to report that we were unanimous - a 50 point deduction for every student present at the Gryffindor Common Room…shall we say…rave last night. And 200 apiece for the three organisers"
There was an explosion of noise from the Slytherin table. Jeers and whoops of triumph rang out across the hall, with some students even standing on their chairs to yell their gleeful insults over to the Gryffindors - to two Gryffindors in particular. James and Sirius responded with some choice hand gestures. As he did so, Sirius caught sight of Snape: eschewing the noisy displays of those around him, he was instead sat perfectly still. A look of serene satisfaction was spread over his pallid face and it made Sirius clench his jaw with loathing. Snape had been wearing the same look of smug victory last night when he'd leered around the Gryffindor portrait hole, determined to watch his enemies' downfall with his own eyes before McGonagall shooed him away.
Dumbledore raised his hands sternly to quell the cacophany and a pregnant silence over the room in its place. The dejected younger years of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff - denied both a good party and a shot at the house cup - huffed unhappily and put their chins on their hands.
"I take no pleasure in punishing students. Indeed, I have the good fortune to be able to delegate such unseemly tasks as house point deduction to my esteemed colleagues. However, these are strange times that we - as a school, as a country - find ourselves in and I felt it incumbent upon me to speak to you all personally" Dumbledore looked down at them over his half-moon spectacles, as if wishing to catch the eye of every student present before he continue.
"The life of a young person is always a battle of instincts. And the life of a young person in the midst of a war even more so. I understand that, when the world outside becomes an ever-darker, ever-more unpredictable place, it is hard to resist the tantalising nihilism of hedonistic pleasure"
The silence in the room was even heavier now. Mentioning the war always had that effect. There were few students present who did not hold grief, trauma, anger or anxiety in their hearts as a result of the conflict outside the castle. Sirius wished he could block his ears. He was in no mood to be lectured on morality, doom and gloom. He looked over at Peter who was biting his lip and fiddling with his cutlery. Then to Remus who was listening intently and taking in every word - as he always did whenever Dumbledore spoke - but he was white as a sheet with shadows around his eyes. Full moon tonight, Sirius remembered. The rush of excitement that accompanied this though was swiftly and bitterly extinguished by the thought of the detention that waited for he, James and Peter instead that night. The highlight of Sirius' month was now to be replaced with scrubbing the trophy room, washing the Slytherin Quidditch players' kit, de-fleeing Mrs Norris…or whatever other delight Filch might have cooked up for them this time.
Dumbledore continued:
"So though your first preference might be to wallow in Dionysical urges and drink the poor village of Hogsmeade dry, I must ask you instead to respect yourselves and to respect this castle. Hedonism is but passing comfort in a world of terror. Please try to choose compassion and bravery instead"
Though he knew he was supposed to feel humbled - particularly as Dumbledore's eyes had unmistakably flicked to he, James and Peter on his final words - Sirius was instead irked by the concluding note of the speech. What he wanted more than anything was to choose bravery. But Dumbledore's insistence on the prohibition of underage wizards fighting in the war meant that he was stuck - useless and powerless - at school.
"Well…that was intense" Said James.
"We're definitely coming last in the House Cup" Said Peter dolefully. "The whole school's gonna hate us now"
"The whole school has bigger things to worry about than the bloody House Cup" Said Sirius.
As Dumbledore took his seat, breakfast finally appeared on the table and the relieved students fell ravenously to the feast before them. As Remus gulped down a great mouthful of tea from the giant mug before him, Sirius noticed that his friend's hand shook. Remus always went to breakfast on the morning of the full moon. Every time, he insisted that he could handle it; determined to limit the amount of time he spent 'off sick' in order to lower the risk of suspicion. Sirius didn't know why he bothered: he looked like death warmed up on the day of the full moon and that was suspicious enough in itself.
"So what happened with McGonagall last night? What's the damage?" Remus was now asking them hurriedly. "How many detentions did she give you?"
"One every night until the Summer holiday starts" Said James, his mouth full of bacon and egg.
"A final warning for my place on the Quidditch team" Said Sirius, with sipping his strong black coffee.
"Oh" Said James, with a huge gulping swallow. "And a 10% deduction from each of our eventual OWL grades"
"What?'" Remus choked and spluttered on his tea.
"Yep" Confirmed Sirius. "Apparently detentions, letters home and house points just aren't getting through to us so they've no choice but to dock our exam results as well"
Remus looked aghast.
"That's just me and Padfoot though - I think they concluded that we were the ringleaders and Wormtail was, like, our assistant or something" James applied liberal amounts of ketchup to his hashbrowns. "No offence, Wormtail mate" He added.
"None taken" Said Peter, brightly. 'If I lost 10% of my OWL marks I don't think I'd make it through to NEWTs"
"Sorry we can't join you tonight, Moony" Said James, giving Remus' slim shoulder a pat.
"I'll be fine" Remus replied quickly, but he had developed that haunted look he so often wore. His dry toast lay untouched on his plate. Sirius shook his head as Remus, the ultimate masochist, now pulled out his transfiguration textbook and began scanning a heavily annotated chapter.
"I can't believe they're going to dock your OWL grades" He said, flicking a page.
"Pfff. We'll still ace the exams" Sirius winked at James who grinned back at him.
"Maybe so. But you should still consider coming to the library with me ahead of transfiguration on Monday" Remus said.
Sirius mimed aiming a killing curse at his head with his wand.
"What's the fucking point?" He exclaimed, putting his coffee mug down hard on the table. Remus' eyes flicked up from his page.
"I mean, who gives a shit about exams? Really?" Sirius continued. "You don't need good OWLs to kill Death Eaters"
"I thought that to be an Auror you did need - " Peter piped up.
"I'm not talking about being a bloody Auror" Sirius found himself snapping over Peter. "I'm talking about the anti-Death Eater resistance. Dumbledore's hand-picked team. All they care about is whether you're a good fighter or not - not if you're a fucking book worm"
Peter pouted and went back to his pancakes. Remus closed his book slowly, forcing his face to be neutral.
"Regardless" He said tiredly. "I don't think it's a good idea to host any more parties"
"For fuck's sake, Moony. That badge is turning you into such a bloody killjoy" Sirius snapped.
"Wind your neck in, Padfoot" Interjected James. He hated any bickering within the group.
Remus sat back in his seat and opened his book up again, head resting on his hand, clearly too exhausted to argue.
"Besides, I've already thought of the next party idea!" Exclaimed Sirius, feeling his mood shift from tetchy to manically determined as the idea for a new plan struck him. Pulling out his wand - with a quick glance to check McGonagall was no longer watching - he cast a muting charm around the four of them. With satisfaction, Sirius saw intrigued smirks spread across the faces of James and Peter.
"What is it?" They asked in unison.
"Marauders…picture this - "Sirius held up his hands for dramatic effect. "Pool party. We conjure a massive tank inside the common room, fill it with hot water, foam and then -
"If I was to turn up to a party wearing only swimming trunks, I think there would be something that our school mates would notice about me" Remus interrupted dryly, unable to help himself.
Peter let out a wild giggle whilst James and Sirius sniggered.
"Heads out of the gutter, please" Said Remus, smiling ruefully. "I was talking about my scar"
"Girls love scars on a man. It makes them look…rugged" Said Sirius, who relished being contrary.
"I think that turning into a fur-covered physical manifestation of evil once a month is a little too rugged for most girls" Said Remus.
"Wear a goddamn wetsuit then, mate. Whatever makes you relax for once"
Remus sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I'm just saying…let's focus on getting this exam out of the way first"
"For fuck's sake, Lupin" Sirius wasn't able to stop the harsh tone that entered his voice, replacing the gentle teasing that usually accompanied any discussion of Remus' condition. Remus' lack of co-operation was bothering him intensely, though he couldn't have explained why exactly. "It's never easy with you is it?"
There was an awkward pause during which Peter looked nervously between the two of them. Remus' face was impassive as he stared back at Sirius, but Sirius recognized the signs of hurt behind his light brown eyes.
"Padfoot - take that back" Said James, filling the silence. "He doesn't mean it, Moony, he's just being a grumpy bastard this morning. Right?" This last word was directed at Sirius and accompanied by a particular James-the-Quidditch-Captain look of authority that Sirius knew was supposed to induce him to apologise. But Sirius didn't feel like playing happy families. He sat stubborn and unspeaking.
"I'm sorry that my lycanthropy is such an inconvenience for you, Sirius" Remus said, with softly dignified sarcasm, after it was clear that no such apology was coming. "I'm going back to bed"
"Alright mate, we'll be up to see you soon" James called towards the slim retreating figure, sticking his head out of the silencing bubble to do so.
"Yeah - feel better!" Called Peter.
"Padfoot - " James rounded on Sirius.
"I know, I know" Sirius put up his hands. "I'll say sorry to Moony later. I promise"
James shoved a slice of bacon into his mouth and munched exasperatedly. "You two are like an old married couple sometimes, I swear"
"But come on, Prongs…" Said Sirius, eager to bring the conversation back to less guilt-inducing territory. "Just picture it….Evans in swimwear?"
The blood rushed to James' face. Loud and crude though he could be in all other aspects of his life, James hated anyone talking about Lily in that way. It was one of the only methods Sirius had to truly wind James up and he rarely lost an opportunity to do so.
"As long as Snivellus is nowhere nearby this time" James replied darkly.
"How did Sniv rumble us anyway?" Said Peter, perplexed.
"Fuck knows how" Said Sirius. "Destroying the greatest party Hogwarts has ever had will probably be the highlight of his pathetic little life"
"I could see his eyes darting all over the room when they raided us last night" Said James, with a venomous glare over to the Slytherin table. "I'd bet my broomstick he was looking to see if Evans was there. He probably doesn't approve of her going to parties. The creep"
"Slimy git" Agreed Sirius.
"He needs to be taught a lesson. He can't get away with this" Said Peter, to nods of agreement from the others.
"He'll become a Death Eater the day he graduates and then we'll finally be able to fight each for real. To the death" Said James, enthusiastically stabbing a sausage with his fork.
—
After breakfast was finished Sirius instinctively headed for the grounds, craving fresh air and wide open space.
"Aren't you coming to check on Moony?" Asked Peter. The three of them were in the entrance hall: James and Peter turned towards the staircase, Sirius with one foot pointed out towards the bright sunlight.
Sirius hesitated. He knew he should go up to Remus and make up for biting his head off. But the thought of their dorm - hot, darkened and full of the suffering of his friend - repelled him. The urge to stretch his legs was impossible to resist.
"I'd rather go for a walk, to be honest" Sirius replied, kicking his boots on the stones impatiently. "I'll check on him later though" He added at the sight of James' raised eyebrow.
"Alright. Come back when you've blown off some steam" Said James.
The grounds were bright green and resplendent in the sun but the relief Sirius felt in leaving the castle didn't last long. He was so rarely alone that it felt strange to be a singular entity in the vastness of the grounds, without three others at his side. His bad temper had left him longing for solitude but, now that he had it, he realised that may have been a mistake. Without his friends there was no distraction from his thoughts. From his memories.
How dare you abandon the house of your forefathers? How dare you befoul our bloodline?
Sirius picked up his pace, despite the heat from the direct sunlight that was bearing down on him. The silver studs of his leather jacket were burning hot to the touch.
"Hey!"
Sirius turned sharply to see Regulus standing a few feet away from him. Despite clearly having had to run to catch up with Sirius, his younger brother looked as coolly polished as ever. Every inch of him the quintessential respectable Slytherin. Or, as Sirius preferred to see it, the presentable face of bigotry and prejudice. Looking at Regulus sometimes gave Sirius an unsettling feeling of uncanniness. He was a smaller, slighter, plainer version of himself: the cheekbones not quite as pronounced; the chin that little bit weaker; the neat, sterile haircut sharing only its colour with Sirius' rebellious straggle. But the look of defiance in both their eyes matched exactly.
"What do you want, you little freak?"
Sirius' ferocity made Regulus blink, but he quickly recovered himself.
"You've been ignoring Mother's letters"
"You call those filthy-worded diatribes letters?" Sirius said, bitter condescension dripping from each of his words. Then he gave a cold, humourless laugh. "You call that pureblood-obsessed lunatic a mother?"
Regulus' eyes flashed and a muscle jumped in his tight jaw.
"And I haven't been ignoring them actually" continued Sirius. "I've been ripping them up, exploding them, dropping them from a very tall height - "
"If you'd actually read them, you would have known that father is ill" Regulus cut across him. "We got the news from St Mungo's a month ago"
Sirius stood stock still for a moment, glaring down at his brother. "What's wrong with him?" He demanded flatly.
"Dragon Pox. Mother's beside herself" Said Regulus. Taking advantage of Sirius being disarmed by this information, he stepped towards him and began urgently: "Look, I'm not asking you to move back in - "
Sirius snorted at this. He couldn't imagine anything worse.
" - because I don't wish you to!" Regulus finished, a touch of colour in his cheeks. "But if you'd just reply - "
"Our parents forfeited their right to communication from me when they donated money to the fucking Death Eaters" Sirius had broken out of his hesitation now and his voice was low and dangerous. Regulus narrowed his eyes, recognising defeat.
"You're choosing the wrong side, brother" He said.
"The wrong side? So, the right side for you is the one murdering innocent people?"
"The right side for me is the one that's going to build a better world for wizards! That won't let our culture be diluted - "
"Oh you are the perfect little boot licker, aren't you?" Sirius said, incensed. "You've eaten up all of that lovely propaganda, haven't you? Merlin, the Death Eaters are going to love you. That is if they even let you join….you know they only take skilled wizards right?"
"Maybe I know more magic than you think!" Regulus exclaimed, fists clenched. Always far slower to anger than Sirius, it sometimes seemed that he was the only member of the family without the famous Black temper. But now Regulus was scowling up at his brother and words burst from him quickly and passionately:
"Muggle-loving fools like Dumbledore barely scratch the surface of what is possible with magic. The Dark Lord will achieve things that no one else has before. You're just afraid that I'll become more powerful than you! That I'll eclipse you entirely and you'll just be some…some…poser…a forgotten loser"
"There's more chance of Voldemort becoming the lead singer of a hair metal band than of you eclipsing me"
"Don't you dare say his name like that!"
"Oh, I do apologise. Did I get the special language of your little club wrong? You prefer the Dark Lord, right? Is that what your pathetic little pamphlet told you to say?"
As they glowered at each other, memories of the previous Christmas flickered behind their eyes. Sirius had tried everything to avoid spending the holiday at Grimmauld Place. He had thought himself safe too until, immediately after the bell for the final class in December had rung out, McGonagall had come to find him. She wore an odd expression on her face as she informed him that his parents were waiting in her office and were insisting on escorting him personally back to London. When he'd raged and argued at this news, McGonagall hadn't scolded him. She'd just said softly: "It's out of my hands I'm afraid, Black. We can't keep students here against their parents' will".
On Christmas Eve he ran away. Sirius had spent the week leading up to it either holed up in his room or prowling around the streets of Camden Town. But a confrontation had been inevitable. And it had begun, as they so often did, over the newspaper. A story of government incompetence had led his father to mumble "too many Mudbloods in the ministry" and Sirius had seen red. His brother got involved and, amid a flurry of accusations, Sirius leapt upstairs and began turning Regulus' room upside down. It only took a minute to find what he was looking for. Slipped beneath Regulus' pillow was a shimmering, silver piece of parchment with a bold title in green ink: Help Us Purify Our World. Regulus' eerily cold face had watched him from the doorway as he madly ripped the document apart. Sirius had then proceeded to chase his brother down the stairs and into the main hall.
"You fool" His father had boomed at Sirius as he'd pushed himself between the two brothers. "Don't you know it was Black money that helped fund those pamphlets? The same money that keeps our noble house in its glory? The same money in your very pocket?"
A steely determination had settled on Sirius then. He knew what he had to do. "You will never see me again" He said steadily and, raising his wand, he summoned his never-unpacked trunk.
The final seconds of his time at Grimmauld Place were filled with noise and chaos. His mother started shrieking and Kreacher dived around his ankles, his sharp fingers drawing blood, crying viciously "I'll stop him, Mistress!". A great hoot came from the owl that had soared in to deliver a letter from the Improper Use of Magic Office and, at the clatter and tumult, the creature had started to flap and squawk. Regulus attempted to wrestle the trunk out of his grasp but Sirius had it in a vice grip and easily shoved past his brother. Sirius' father, despite claiming to despise all things Muggle, favoured his hands over his wand when it came to discipline. He roughly grabbed Sirius' hair in an attempt to force his son away from the door. But Sirius at sixteen had grown to be the both the tallest in the family and muscular from beater training. He was finally a match for his broad father. Sirius shoved him back against the mantelpiece, knocking hideous ornaments off to smash on the floor. A decisive kick dislodged Kreacher and sent him skidding across the floor to hit the wall with a thump. Sirius' mother's desperate calls "My son! My son!" were muffled by the slam of the door behind him. As soon as he was out in the cold air of the street, Sirius didn't hesitate. He stuck out his arm for the Knight Bus.
Wrenching his mind back to the present, Sirius looked at his brother now - still trapped in Grimmauld Place, determined to pursue a twisted ideology - and felt something stir inside him. Other memories were worming their way into his head now. Of a summer long ago. Of two little boys, feet dangling in the water of a canal, giggling together. Of racing through long grass hand in small hand. Of the older boy wiping away the tears of the younger after scraping a knee.
"Regulus, what will happen is that they'll sacrifice you to the cause, without a second thought. Voldemort doesn't give a shit about you - don't you get it? All he wants is willing pure blood bodies to join his death cult"
"As if you care what happens to me. All you care about is yourself!"
"Listen to me - you'll be nothing, Regulus!" Sirius was shouting now, filled with a furious urgency. "Just another dead kid on page four of the Daily Prophet with only Mother and Father to mourn you!"
"You're the one who's nothing!" Regulus' lips had turned white now. His face was frozen in fury. "You've turned your back on your family. You're a blood traitor. And you'll live to regret it"
With these words, the images of the little boys vanished. Instead, Sirius saw a hole burnt into a tapestry as Andromeda was obliterated from the family tree. He saw his mother's long fingers close over his wrist as she entreated him to meet yet another prospective pureblood girlfriend. He saw his father's amused smile when reports of Muggle-baiting came on the radio. And, ever-present in all these memories, was Regulus watchful face: his blank acceptance and allowance of it all.
Sirius leaned close to his brother and spoke slowly. "You're not my family"
His throat was hot and tight as he walked away. He struggled to wrestle back his composure, to force his face and body language into the uncaring, arrogant style he was known for. But sweat seeped through his t-shirt and he breathed heavily. When he finally looked back, his brother was long behind him. As were the groups of students congregated on the grounds. Now that he had walked almost as far as the Hogwarts gates, he was utterly alone.
The letters from his mother arrived most mornings. They were manic, foully worded rants written in wildly looping handwriting. Sirius would immediately destroy them without a word to his friends. Any time that James, Remus or Peter gently questioned him about his family he would shut down the conversation with a sharp, flippant joke and change the subject. Since Christmas Eve, Sirius had thrown himself into plotting with the Marauders with more vigour than ever. He was determined that each full moon would be bolder and more adventurous than the last. That the Marauders' Map be made bigger and better than they'd ever thought possible. That each prank be as outrageous and as scandalous as their imagination could allow. Every other spare second was filled with whacking bludgers, duelling practice and taking handsome dates into the castle's dark corners. Not even James knew the details of exactly what had happened with his family. Talking soberly and honestly with his friends about his feelings on his former home required a level of weakness that that Sirius wasn't prepared to give. But sometimes he wanted to.
Remus was the best listener. He was wise beyond his years. Sirius knew that, even if laid up with pre-full moon sickness, Remus would calmly and thoughtfully listen to everything without judgement. For someone who bottled up their own pain so much himself, he was never short of kindness and empathy. Sirius admired him for it, but had never told him so. Peter was the best comforter. He always knew what to say to make a person feel good about themselves. His unconditional admiration had a warming effect on the heart. James, however serious the situation, would always be able to crack the perfect joke to make them all collapse into laughter. But his relationship with James went deeper than that too, deeper than any other relationship in his life. James and Sirius could communicate with each other without words. One look from James was enough for Sirius to feel safe and understood.
That's what it had been like on Christmas Eve when Sirius had arrived, disheveled and shaken, at the door of the Potters' grand country house. Inside, the dining table had been gloriously decorated in Gryffindor red and gold. The three of them had been in the middle of dinner when Sirius had arrived and each were wearing a different novelty hat. The brightness of the candles, the rich colours and inviting warmth were shocking after the murky gloom of Grimmauld Place. The Potters had insisted he sit down to join them and, before Sirius knew it, a tall admiral's hat was on his head. When he'd looked up, he'd seen hanging above the fireplace two stockings. One with James stitched on and another with Sirius. They dangled there side-by-side as if they'd always been like that. As if James and Sirius had been born brothers all along. Sirius hadn't allowed himself - or been allowed - to cry in his living memory but he'd had to blink furiously as Fleamont and Euphemia beamed at him. James had put a hand on his shoulder and said "You're home now, mate".
As he stood in the sweltering grounds, Sirius felt overwhelmed. It was too much. As soon as his front paws hit the ground, he started running: pelting through the thick grass at top speed, feeling the rush of air through his fur. Instantly, the bitterness and anxiety in his stomach from his conversation with Regulus disappeared as did the intense emotion of his memories of Christmas. All he could feel was the exultation of movement; the strength of his powerful paws on the ground; the glorious stretching of his legs. He reached the forest and pelted through the trees at its edge. It was only when he reached the part of the forest close to the Whomping Willow that Sirius finally crashed down to rest. He lay panting with his front paws stretched out in front of him, relishing being amongst the cool leaves and in the dappled shade.
A string of angry swear words suddenly made Sirius' ears prick up. Someone was close-by. Crawling low to the ground, Sirius stalked over the forest floor until he saw the source of the speech. Snape was standing, barely an inch out of the range of the Whomping Willow's furious branches, with his wand raised. Frustration was etched on his face as he, sweating and sunburnt, cast spell after spell on the tree's powerful branches. Sirius changed back to his human form and put his back to a tree trunk, leaning around to watch Snape. Snape was hellbent on his task, his greasy black hair bouncing around his face, and the Willow was getting more and more riled up in response. Sirius let the hatred wash over him. Snape was always one step behind them. Determined to ruin them in any way he could. A parasite. As Sirius emerged from the trees, James' words echoed in his head: He'll become a Death Eater the day he graduates.
"Black!" Snape jumped at the sudden appearance of Sirius. He turned his wand away from the willow and pointed it directly at him instead. "Following me are you?"
"I'd say you're the one creeping around, Snivellus"
"Where are your pathetic mates? Hiding are they? Like the overgrown children you are?"
Snape's voice was fierce but Sirius noted with satisfaction that there was an edge of fear to it. His movements were tense and jerky as he looked around; obviously expecting to be jumped by the others, not wanting to cast the first curse in case it was a trap. Sirius didn't speak and didn't draw his wand. He was enjoying Snape's confusion.
"What do you want?" Snape spluttered when Sirius didn't reply, unnerved by his uncharacteristic stillness.
"Oh, I'm just enjoying watching you fail" Sirius replied. "I'd recommend stepping a tiny bit closer though, witnessing you getting your arm ripped off would be even more entertaining"
"Highly amusing, Black" Said Snape. "But you're wrong. I'm not failing. I'm just getting closer"
"The only thing you're getting close to is castration by a tree" Said Sirius, carefully goading Snape.
"I know there's a passageway" Snape's eyes gleamed, clearly believing this to be his trump card; his way of proving to Sirius that he should fear him. Snape tightened his grip on his wand, preparing himself for a fight. But Sirius stood unmoving.
"Wow, you've worked out our dark secret" Sirius deadpanned. He shot a bolt out of the end of his wand which perfectly struck the knot at the base of the tree. The willow's branches were instantly frozen.
Snape's mouth fell open. He looked from Sirius to the rigid tree, nonplussed at this flippant confession from one of his worst enemies. Sirius stepped closer to Snape and his next words fell from him with a fervent inevitability. His hatred for Snape, for his parents, for every dark wizard pushed a mad viciousness into his words.
"But are you too much of a Death-Eater-loving quivering coward to come back after sundown?"
Snape forced an unpleasant laugh at these words. "You think I'm stupid, Black? That I wouldn't get ambushed by you and Potter as soon as my back is turned?"
"As much pleasure as ambushing you would give me, we've got detention tonight. Thanks to you."
As he turned away, he caught sight of Snape's eyes widening in recognition as the truth of this statement sank in. Sirius walked back to the castle under the afternoon sun without looking back.
