Chapter 9: The Game

Mysterious disappearances: a pack of werewolves, a tribe misplaced. Apologies: withheld. Public works: walls and fences. Political climate: better to stare at the sun.


9:30 pm

Lily fidgeted next to Darian Mulciber, trying her best (and likely failing) to not look as nervous as she inexplicably felt. He, for his part, looked a little unsettled himself. He was being just as abnormally quiet as he'd been around her for the majority of the year, but he kept reaching up to fidget with his tie, his Prefect pin, his collar—anything, really, she judged, frowning.

Only half an hour, she reminded herself. Just a sweep through the castle and then back to our rooms. Just about half an hour.

Not that she really had much to worry about; Darian hadn't spoken a word, barely even glancing her way. They'd run into classmates who were heading off to bed, but he'd said nothing, given no indication of seeing them; almost like he'd looked right through them, his thoughts entirely elsewhere.

She took another glance at Darian, at the severity of his expression and the agitation of his fingers, and felt a familiar (albeit surprising, given the subject) compulsion flutter in her chest; the same inadvisable softness that compelled her to comfort a crying first year, or soothe a frazzled friend.

Saint Lily, Severus called her, and she fought a smile at the smile he would wear. Always finding good in people.

Distinctly different from Petunia's assertion, of course. You don't care, Lily! her sister had yelled, tearfully shoving her away. You aren't kind, Lily, you're not nice—you just get off on everyone thinking you're perfect.

She bristled.

"Sickle for your thoughts?" she offered to Darian quietly, shoving aside her own unpleasantries in favor of his.

Darian's dark eyes, which had been staring absently out the window, now settled on hers with a jolt of surprise, like he'd momentarily forgotten she was there.

"I think you'll find you're overspending," he remarked in a low voice.

"Ah," she murmured, watching him bring his hand to his pin, straightening it for the hundredth time.

Don't pry, Lily. She heard her mother's admonishment in her mind. Don't be nosy—

"Do you worry much about your soul, Evans?" Darian asked suddenly, masking a dry swallow.

She glanced at him sharply, feeling her eyes widen in disbelief. He's said nothing for weeks, and now this?

She couldn't put a finger on it—on what particular feature of the statement might have made her spine go rigid in alarm—but she felt uneasy at the words.

"No," she replied slowly, frowning. "Should I?"


9:35 pm

Severus walked quickly through the castle, trying to remember what Lily had told him about her Head Girl duties.

"Oh, it's basically the same thing every time," she'd mumbled indistinctly, her dainty brow furrowed as she dug through her school bag for something. "We start at the library, since that's usually where people are, if they're not in their common rooms yet—"

He raced up the stairs.

"—and then usually people know to be in bed," she'd continued, "so by curfew—"

"Ten?" he'd interrupted, confirming, and she'd glanced up at him, brushing a lock of auburn hair away from her face.

"You say that like you haven't lived here for almost seven years," she'd remarked, laughing a little and leaning up to kiss his cheek. "Yes, so—by ten o'clock, people are pretty much"—she paused, making a generic, sweeping gesture—"somewhere within the four corners of the castle."

She'd turned back to her bag, still distracted.

"I assume they'd know better than to be in the middle of the castle," Severus had commented, trying desperately to be casual. "Away from the common rooms." Which means that's where Darian would go, he very deliberately had not said, but made a point to remember.

"I assume so," she'd agreed, her pretty lips curling up in an affectionate smile. She'd paused then, giving him a brief, searching glance before shrugging it away, rejecting her suspicions.

"Thinking of breaking curfew, Sev?" she suggested, blessing him with a playful smirk.

He heard her little laugh in his mind and resolved to take off faster.


9:40 pm

"Got everything?" James asked, peering over into the common room from the doorway of his bedroom as the other three climbed through the portrait.

"Of course," Sirius called back, raising his schoolbag. "Undetectable extension charm."

"I still don't see why we had to resort to that," Remus sighed. "It's illegal, you know."

"Said the secret werewolf to his unregistered animagus friend," James commented regally, grinning as he descended the stairs.

"Where's Lily?" Peter chirped, looking around.

"Rounds," James supplied, then frowned. "We were keeping an eye on her, right?"

"I checked the map earlier," Remus assured him, falling back into one of the armchairs. "Seems fine."

James sniffed his disapproval, nudging his glasses further up on his nose. "I had envisioned something a little more—"

"Invasive?" Sirius prompted, settling himself on the floor at Remus' feet. "Should we chase after her, then, yelling something about rescuing her from our own imaginations?"

James offered him his most impatient scowl. "Where's the map?" he demanded, holding his hand out to Remus. "Give it."

"Wormtail's got it," Remus said lazily, glancing over as Sirius began to unload the contents of his bag.

James whipped around, presenting his expectant hand to Peter. "Map?"

"What do you say, Prongs?" Peter prompted, smirking.

"Please give me the map," James groaned, and Peter complied, unfolding it and moving to stand by James.

"There," Peter said, pointing to her. "With Mulciber." He looked up, frowning. "Mulciber?"

"Right?" James exclaimed, though he didn't look up, still attempting to follow Evans' movements through the castle. "Hm."

"Hm what?" Remus pressed.

"This isn't Evans' usual route," James noted, watching her name as it traversed through the courtyard. "She's doing it backwards."

Remus looked up. "Let me see," he said, gesturing, and James moved over, pulling Peter with him.

"Hm," Remus agreed, frowning. "This isn't Mulciber's route either."

"How do you know?" James asked, conscious of the way his voice was just a touch too high.

"I've been a Prefect two years longer than you've been Head Boy," Remus reminded him curtly. "I've done rounds with Mulciber before, and he takes the same route I do."

"I don't like this," James declared, shoving the map—and, by extension, Peter—away from him. "I don't know what's happening, but I don't like it."

"Go after her, then," Remus suggested, with an underlying hint of amusement in his tone that James did not appreciate. "It'll be just what your love story needs."

"Don't you fucking dare," Sirius snapped, suddenly joining the fray as he leapt to his feet, taking hold of James' shoulders. "This is my last fucking Halloween here, Potter, and I'll be damned if I don't have my best mate here with me—"

"I'll go," Peter offered quietly, and they all shifted to look at him.

"You'll go?" James echoed.

"Sure," Peter agreed, his tone at an almost James-esque level of amiability. "Just to keep an eye on her, right?"

"Right," Remus instructed, nodding; James, for his part, was hesitant.

"Well," he began, "maybe I can just—"

"Wormtail's got it handled," Sirius reminded him firmly. "Right?" he promoted, turning to look sharply at Peter.

"I've got it," Peter assured them smoothly. "I can borrow the cloak, Prongs?"

James swallowed, still slightly uneasy.

"Sure," he agreed faintly, as Sirius clapped him on the back.


9:45 pm

"Thanks for agreeing to go this way," Lily commented. "I guess I should have assumed there'd be pranks on Halloween."

Darian took a brief reprieve from staring vacantly into space to glance at her, shrugging with neutral benevolence. "One bathroom with a dungbomb means there's usually another," he offered sagely, and they shared a conspiratorial eye roll, a look between seasoned Prefects who'd seen it all, or so they imagined.

"True," she mused, nodding, and noted immediately that she had already lost his attention.

There was never anything to worry about, she reminded herself, letting her gaze travel over Darian's stiff profile as he repeatedly adjusted his collar. You were always being foolish.

"Do you have any plans?" she asked cautiously. "You know, for—"

"We don't have to do this," he interrupted sharply, turning suddenly to look at her.

"I—" she stammered, taken aback. "I was just trying to—"

"There's no need for you to try to woo me, Evans," Darian said coolly, smoothing his hair back. He looked a little flushed—his shoulders ever so slightly tensed—but she was distracted by the statement, feeling her cheeks burn at the implication. "In fact," he determined, as if the idea had just occurred to him, "I can take it from here."

"What?" she echoed blankly.

"Fuck, Evans, I'll never understand your appeal—just go home," he instructed, and despite the firmness of his tone, she was no less confused, watching his eyes flick nervously over her shoulder.

"We're not done," she reminded him, checking her watch. "There's fifteen minutes left, and then—"

"I'll do the rest of the castle," he cut in, and though it was technically an appealing offer, she did not feel particularly grateful for it. It was, in fact, such a jarring change from his earlier persona that she merely squinted at him, looking for the source of his sudden shift in mood.

"Um," she managed.

He jutted his chin out. "Take the big stairs," he suggested. "I'll finish up on this floor."

She frowned, eyeing him closely for any indication of disingenuity. It was an oddly unselfish gesture coming from him.

Suspiciously unselfish.

But, she sighed, watching him draw a hand up to straighten his Prefect pin yet again, there was probably no harm in taking the offer.

"Okay," she agreed slowly, feeling a strange, warning chill run through her as she turned her back to leave.


9:50 pm

Darian waited until she was out of sight and then quickly spun on his heel, retracing his steps—or at least, the steps he would have taken if they'd gone her usual route.

How unfortunate, he remarked inwardly, still feeling a rush of nerves every few seconds that made him tug at his tie, struggling to free his airways. How terribly inconvenient it would be, if someone were to have expected her to do something different.

He made it all the way to the trophy room before he saw him.

"Good evening, Severus," Darian said pleasantly, forcing a smile as the other man turned around.

How unfortunate, indeed.


9:52 p.m.

"Oh, Peter," Lily said breathlessly, clutching her chest as she rounded the corner into him. "Sorry, didn't see you there."

"No problem," he said cheerfully. "They're waiting for you in your room."

"Ugh, are they?" she echoed, making a face. "I wanted a quiet night."

Peter gave her an oddly consoling grimace. "Aim lower," he suggested.

She chuckled a little at that. "Alright." She made for the dorm, then paused, glancing back at him. "You coming?" she prompted.

He looked hesitant, and she felt her brow furrow in confusion. It was a singularly rare occurrence when Peter Pettigrew wasn't rushing to follow his friends around.

What on earth was everyone on about? she wondered, recalling Darian's twitchy skittishness. It was about as out of character as Peter's quiet ambivalence.

"In a bit," he suggested. "Just have to run back for something first."

She thought for a minute to press him; but after the unsuccessful attempt with Darian Mulciber she merely gave a silent, inward sigh. "Suit yourself," she told him, then proceeded to make her way back to her room.


10:00 pm

The moment the portrait opened, James popped his head up to look.

"Wormtail?" he asked, straining to see the intrusion.

"No," he heard Lily say, and he turned to Remus, scowling.

"Well," Remus said in a low voice. "At least we know she's fine."

"What is this?" Lily demanded, stomping gracelessly into the common room. "Are you—" she looked down at them, sniffing the air, and then placed her hands crossly on her hips. "Are you drinking, James Potter?"

He cocked his head at her, squinting. "No?"

"He means yes," Sirius clarified.

"Funnily enough, I'd worked that out for myself," Lily replied coolly, before returning the flames of her ire to James. "This is what you were so busy doing that you couldn't be bothered?"

"Oh, don't blame him," Sirius assured her, rising to his feet and swaying slightly. "It's me. I wanted a night of fun." He reached his arm over her shoulder, kissing her soundly on top of her head. "Eh, Evans?"

James glanced quickly at Remus, who was watching delightedly; it seemed he was holding his breath, hoping for an explosion.

Sadly, Lily only sighed, throwing an arm lazily around Sirius' waist in a motion that caused James a moment of breathless confusion.

"Disappointing," Remus pronounced curtly, turning back to his drink.

"Going to have one, Lils?" Sirius offered, and she gave him another dainty little sigh, a prim indication of her weighty disapproval.

James paused abruptly at that. He had never seen Lily drink before, and imagined it to be a spectacular rarity; but she had not said no, and James found he was holding his breath again, waiting for her response.

"Fine," she permitted after a moment, a faint half-smile twitching at the corners of her lips, and James felt sure he experienced a moment of rapture.


10:05 pm

"You shouldn't be here, Severus," Darian drawled casually, though Severus thought he looked a bit unsettled. "Wouldn't want to be written up for being out past curfew, would you?"

"Where's Lily?" Severus asked instantly, glancing purposefully behind Darian.

"I have no idea why you think she'd be with me," Darian proposed silkily. "Unless there's something you'd like to tell me?" he prompted, his measured glance a little too informed for Severus' liking.

Severus lowered his wand, realizing his mistake.

"No," he insisted stubbornly. "I just—"

"Still not going to admit to it?" Darian lamented. "Poor thing. Lovestruck," he sighed, making a wistful gesture.

"Don't," Severus growled testily, striding forward to exit the darkened corridor. "If you're not with her, then—"

"Why would I be?" Darian asked, his tone dripping with a detestable false innocence as he followed. "Oh, Sev—surely this isn't some sort of accusation—"

"Severus."

The voice was unfamiliar, and Severus paused, turning slowly at the source of his name.

"Yes?" he asked uncertainly, and promptly ducked as a spell flew at his head.


10:08 p.m.

"Take a shot," James chanted obnoxiously, and Sirius joined in, "take a shot, take a goddamn shot—"

Remus tossed his glass back, pausing to accommodate a horrific shudder as it went down, then wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist and joined them.

"—if you can't take a shot like a Gryffindor can—"

They paused, looking expectantly at Lily, who sighed.

"Then you shouldn't have a goddamn shot in your hand," she concluded lamely, and they cheered as she raised the glass to her lips.


10:10 pm

"Stebbins," Severus gasped, leaping out of the way of a second curse. "What the—"

But Grant Stebbins was strangely transfixed, his eyes vaguely unfocused, and Severus watched his lips move as he cast another curse; it was Darian who sprang to action first, covering them both with what even Severus could admit was a fairly impressive Protego.

"Something's wrong," Severus managed, a little bit dazed. "Something—something has to be wrong, this can't be—"

"Need me to save you again, Sev?" Darian panted. "Or would you maybe consider getting in on this, seeing as—"

"Expulso!"

They leapt apart as Grant Stebbins aimed another curse at Severus' head, forcing Severus backwards and trapping him within the confines of the trophy room.

"Darian," Severus shouted, "what the fuck—"

He could see from the doorway that Darian had entered the room after them, and Stebbins turned quickly, aiming a curse at Darian's chest.

"Petrificus Totalus—"

"Locomotor Mortis!"

Neither curse had been as successful as the casters intended, but both were momentarily winded; Darian was blown sideways by the ricocheting of Stebbins' curse off a nearby wall of picture frames, ducking to avoid the blow of shattered glass.

"Geminio!"

At Stebbins' curse, the objects in the trophy room began to multiply, cutting off their exit. Severus stumbled against a trophy case—which promptly became two trophy cases, and then several, and then the trophies and medals themselves began spilling out until he felt he was swimming in them. Countless items crashed to the ground as Severus heard the unmistakable sound of Darian swearing loudly, attempting to struggle to his feet.

"Crucio—"

Severus paused—an Unforgivable. From Grant Stebbins? Surely not—

"Severus," Darian shouted, struggling to climb over yet another multiplying trophy case, "fucking do something!"

He looked around, panicked, but could see no way out; short of besting Stebbins, there would be no other exit.

I'm sorry, Lily, Severus thought briefly, savoring her name like a prayer, and aimed his wand at Stebbins.

"Sectumsempra!" he yelled, and only then did Stebbins collapse to the floor, his veins bursting open as he fell.


10:12 p.m.

"You know," Lily said, feeling the burn of the liquid against her throat and squeezing her eyes shut, "this isn't exactly what I thought you idiots had in mind for tonight."

"Is that so?" James drawled obnoxiously. "Listen to that, Padfoot, we've not lost our mystique yet."

"Never," Sirius roared, lifting his glass. "Mystique forever!"

"Hush," Lily admonished them, pouring herself another glass of firewhisky—to drink slowly, this time, she hoped, though it seemed unlikely. She was doing a distinctly catastrophic job of pacing herself. "You'll wake the whole house, Potter."

"You'll wake the house, Evans," James sniffed.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, well done," she retorted, applauding him clumsily as some of the whisky spilled from the lip of her glass and sloshed onto her. "Expertly crafted retort, Lord Potter," she added, pausing to lick the excess alcohol from her hands.

"Hey," Remus mused, sitting up and grinning vacantly. "Where's Wormtail?"

"Such a gross nickname," Lily commented, wrinkling her nose. "What's wrong with Pete?"

"Nothing's wrong with Pete, how dare you," James declared, jabbing a finger into her shoulder. She lurched back for a moment, then returned, shoving her palm into his face and pushing him away as she turned her head for another drink.

"He said he had to fetch something," she told Remus, feeling her insides begin to warm.

"Oh." Remus smiled again. "Sad."

"Yes," Sirius declared, crawling from his post at James' side to fall against Remus, resting his head in his lap. "A tragedy to shame all others, that."

"You're drunk," Lily giggled, feeling the warmth in her stomach flutter up towards her head.

"Nah," Sirius replied, reaching a hand up to caress her cheek. "Sounds fake."


10:20 pm

"Did—did you fucking kill him?" Darian asked, white-faced as he approached them.

"No," Severus muttered, "no—no, no, there's a countercurse—"

He hadn't had to use it before; he tried to concentrate, tried to slow his thundering heartbeat.

"Vulnera Sanentur," he murmured, fighting the urge to retch. Blood on the floor, blood on his robes, blood on his hands—

He repeated the spell over and over, songlike in its repetition, until all of Grant Stebbins' blood had returned slowly to his body; save, of course, for that of it which remained on Severus, and which stained him, and would surely haunt him—

"What happened?" Darian asked, crouching next to him. "He was out for you, Sev."

"Impossible," Severus croaked. "Not him. He wouldn't."

"He clearly did," Darian pointed out, and upon glancing at him, Severus could see that he was genuinely shaken up.

"You had nothing to do with this," Severus ventured slowly. "You had nothing to do with this?"

"Of course not," Darian snapped, but there was something incongruous to the thoughtless ease of his defense. Severus intuitively raised his wand, pointing it at Darian.

"What happened here?" Severus gritted out, the words slipping between clenched teeth. "Why did he come for me?"

Darian's eyes narrowed, his gaze fixed and unimpressed.

"Might want to lower that," he suggested coolly, gesturing to where Severus' wand was pointed at his chest. "Wouldn't want me to share the details of our encounter with your girlfriend, now would we?"

"So much for being my friend, then," Severus growled.

"I'm not not your friend," Darian retorted, glaring at him. "In case it escaped your notice, you just nearly killed a man. Without any help from me," he added tightly.

Another wave of remorse hit Severus and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to forget what he had done. What he'd done, he realized shakily, that nobody would ever forgive.

What Lily would never forgive.

"You swear it?" Severus whispered. "You swear this was not your doing?"

"You saw me, Sev," Darian reminded him. "You watched me this whole time. You know this wasn't me."

Severus looked pained. "But—but Lil- " he coughed. "Evans—"

"I have a job to do, Severus, and it's to recruit you," Darian said simply. "That's business. But any consequences you draw from this—" He waved to gesture to the body before them. "That's on you."

It was a harsh truth, and Severus flinched. That's on you.

It's evil, Sev—I don't understand—

Severus shoved her voice aside and bent to hastily check Stebbins' pulse. "He's alive," he said breathlessly, pausing to thank every deity he knew to name. "He'll be okay."

"What now, then?" Darian asked, standing abruptly. "What happens now?"

Surely you feel it, Sev—

Severus closed his eyes, trying to force the chatter of his brain to cease.

Surely you know it doesn't feel like magic you're meant to use—

"We obliviate him," he said slowly, letting his eyes flutter open. "Clean up this room. Clean everything up, wipe his memory, and then—"

People will get hurt, Sev—

He swallowed. "And then leave him."


10:45 pm

"You can't tell her," Severus said, fidgeting as they walked. "You can't tell anyone."

There it is, Darian thought, sighing with satisfaction. There's the opening.

"I wouldn't," he offered soothingly, gripping Severus' shoulder, and the other man nodded his relief. "That is," Darian amended, suppressing the perverseness of his pleasure as he slowly twisted the knife, "provided we are able to come to a sort of… understanding."

Severus stopped abruptly; he was a man who knew a threat when he heard it.

"What sort of understanding?" he asked, voice strained.

"The sort where I remain quiet on certain events," Darian proposed, "if you agree to be helpful when I require it."

"No," Severus said instantly, his face colorless with something Darian suspected might be anger; he was, after all, not a man who enjoyed being outsmarted. "No. I won't do it."

Darian made a face of languid disapproval. "Seems like you've already dug that hole," he remarked smartly, "so I'm not sure refusal is in your best interest."

Severus, wisely, fell silent. Darian might have felt sorry for him, but he couldn't.

He didn't have time.

It had been messy, after all; messier than he'd anticipated. Severus' method of choice was gory, and it hadn't been easy to clean. Darian was glad, at least, that he'd thought to cast a Muffliato in the corridor, and again when he'd entered the trophy room. Saved him the trouble of witnesses, which would be one more trouble than he needed.

Particularly seeing as his job for the evening was not yet over.


11:00 pm

"Fuck, Evans," James grunted, flinging her arm over his shoulder and lifting her up to sit her on the sofa. "You're a real fucking lightweight."

"I—" she paused, hiccuping, "am not."

"You are," he informed her, though secretly, he was hardly that inconvenienced. "It's quite interesting, really," he mused, "finally seeing Head Girl herself be quite a disaster at something. It's like watching a unicorn in the wild."

"Rude." She squirmed, pulling away from him to sit up on her own. "I'm not a disaster," she admonished, reaching for his drink and taking a sip, ignoring his protest. "I'm a saint."

"A saint." He let out a loud, barking laugh, and Sirius and Remus looked up at him, squinting from where they were curled around each other on the floor. "You are hardly saintly, Evans."

"I'm more a saint than you," she reminded him, making a face. "You're a big bully, James Potter," she added, swaying a little. "You're a magnificent swine."

He paused, making a mental note of magnificent, and then offered her his most aristocratic smirk.

"You bully me, Evans, in case you weren't aware," he told her. "And I let you get away with it," he continued, taking a long pull of his firewhisky as she watched him raise his glass to his lips, "because I am a gentleman."

"That's not why," she told him, and he chuckled.

"Why then?"

She looked stricken for a moment—hesitant, at least—and then leaned in to whisper, "Because you're just as shitty as I am," in his ear, the warmth of her voice spreading to a flush in his cheeks as she backed away with a giggle.


11:07 p.m.

Darian left Severus at the dungeons and quickly strode back to the trophy room, careful not to run; if anyone asked questions, his Prefect badge was answer enough, but there was no reason to draw unnecessary attention to himself.

He caught sight of the golden curls and swallowed hard, trying not to spend too long in the doorway worshipping the sight of him.

"Caleb," he said, managing an edge of impassiveness to the name despite the abominable confection of it on his tongue.

Caleb turned, smiling at him. "Darian," he said.

The body was gone from the floor.

"That was well executed," Darian commented drily. "I'm impressed."

"I'm handy with an Imperius—and not too bad with transfiguration, either," Caleb added, grinning as he patted his schoolbag.

"Not too bad," Darian echoed. "Not bad at all."

"Nowhere near the caliber of your theatrics, of course," Caleb offered, pausing to stand near Darian.

Too close. Far too close.

"I know how to do things," Darian agreed, anticipation catching in his chest.