Mercury Lies
Chapter 12:to propagate

Remus's mind raced, past shards of words and excuses that sounded off, and flat, and untrue. He had never been in the position where he had had to explain his injuries while they were still so fresh, and terrible looking, and by the look of anger that was blossoming upon Black's face, he was clearly not making things better for himself the longer it took him to answer.

'I had an accident,' he settled on, eventually, shaping his voice into neutrality. He had never been the very best at lying, but he could always manage to, if he gave it his best effort. This time, though, it was proving to be a bit more difficult, and he carefully slid his hands under the comforter, to prevent the two of them from noticing the fact that they were trembling.

Potter sucked in a sympathetic breath. 'Did you fall or something?'

Because his mind didn't seem to be able to supply him with anything else that seemed remotely credible, Remus nodded, happy for the excuse. 'I was in the garden and just smashed right into –' he tailed off, lifting one of his hands out from under the blanket again and making a vague pushing motion forward, as if to prompt them to make up that part themselves.

'A wall? A tree? A door?' Potter supplied, helpfully, his eyebrows arching higher and higher on his forehead with each passing word.

'Yeah,' Remus admitted, not really choosing between the three. He was starting to sorely regret not having seen this situation coming after what had happened earlier today, but he felt that he was, at least, getting somewhere. Doubtlessly, the best way out of this would be to change the subject as fast as he could. 'Anyway, had a fall, smashed my face. I spent most of the day reading upstairs.'

Potter nodded, appearing to believe him, but Black, who had been silent during the exchange, was a different story. He was looking at Remus with a cool, calculating look in his eyes, and Remus tilted his face up, meeting his gaze with a flare of defiance. In response, the look on Black's face intensified, and his jaw clenched, his cheekbones becoming oddly prominent in the process. It was then, in that very specific moment, that Remus realised why his parents had been so very intent on him not making friends. Because, while he chose to invest his time in pulling pranks and making the map, Black was obviously incredibly clever, and if he were ever to figure out what had really happened, Remus would lose his place at Hogwarts, Head Boy or not. After a moment or two, Black seemed to arrive at some sort of conclusion. 'You're lying,' he said, perceptively. 'Your dad could've healed you in a second.'

Remus raised his eyebrows. 'My Muggle relatives were here all day celebrating Christmas,' he lied, putting pointed, albeit unnecessary, stress on the second word. 'I can hardly have my face be injured one minute and be perfectly fine the next when they all saw me fall.' It was the furthest he had ever gone from the truth in relation to his condition and the feeling it produced in the pit of his stomach was unsettling, although he didn't really know why.

Black pulled his lips in, thoughtfully. 'So you thought it best to go to bed with your face all messed up?' he continued, unbelieving.

Remus gave him a look. 'I've had worse,' he said, without thinking about it too much, and almost missed the nearly identical looks of horror that flashed across their faces. He sighed. 'I'm fine,' he stressed. 'My dad will heal it in the morning.'

'Explains why he didn't want us to see you,' Potter said, leaning forward to inspect Remus's injuries, and shaking his head sympathetically. 'Sorry, mate.'

'Does it, though?' Black asked him, sharply. 'Because we agreed that he was acting well weird.'

Remus looked down at his duvet. 'He doesn't really –' he began, but stopped, because his father's words from earlier this evening suddenly crossed his mind, and he found that he didn't know how to finish that sentence, properly.

'He doesn't really?' Black prompted, voice just on the very edge of polite, leaving the question hanging in the air. Remus avoided looking at him and kept quiet.

'Let's not,' Potter advised. Remus looked up and saw, much to his surprise, that Potter and Black were looking at each other, and seemed to be communicating in some unspoken way. In the end, Potter appeared victorious, because Black shut his mouth, pressing it into a thin line, and he looked away. 'We got you a present,' Potter continued, as if nothing had happened, and reached into his pocket, pulling out a neatly wrapped, bronze-and-blue package. Remus took it from him, looking down at it in surprise. A heartbeat later, he realised that he hadn't thought to get them anything.

'I –' he began.

As if reading his thoughts, Black rolled his eyes. 'Just open it, Lupin,' he interrupted, making a gesture with his hand that was obviously meant to hurry him along. Remus did as he was told, gently prying the bow loose, and putting it neatly down next to him. Then, he carefully began to lift up the wrapping paper from where it was stuck down with Spellotape, ignoring Black's sarcastic, 'No rush, we've got all day.'

The striped wrapping paper fell away to reveal a beautiful, black leather-bound book, which, when Remus frowned and opened it, turned out to be a diary, with dates ranging from the first of January all the way until December of the following year. The pages were thick, the paper smooth and creamy, and when he turned it over, he found gold embossed letters in the very bottom left corner, which spelled out "RL". His throat felt dry.

'We noticed you kept drawing up calendars on spare pieces of parchment,' Potter said. 'This seemed more practical.'

'Thank you,' Remus whispered, not quite meeting their eyes.

Black grinned at him, readjusting his position so that his back was leaned against the slatted, raised foot of the bed, and his feet were near Remus's hands. 'It's from Pete as well. So,' he began, and Remus looked at him, not knowing what was coming next, 'aside from the fact you smashed your face into a tree, how was your Christmas?'

The sky outside was just beginning to lighten, shades of blue fading into startling hues of purple and pink, and it was only then that Remus, who had felt sleep tug at him for a while now, realised how late it had become. A glance at his alarm clock revealed that it was just about eight in the morning.

Potter followed his gaze, and caught Black's eye, gesturing his head towards the window. 'We should be off,' he told Remus, through an enormous stretch. 'It's getting late and Mum said not to hassle you too much. She'll be up in a few, I expect,' he added, sounding a lot brighter, sitting up straight with a magnetic grin.

Remus peered at him sleepily, unable to follow where that sentence was supposed to go, and was grateful when Black noticed this and clarified, 'The Potters always host a massive dinner party for New Year's. Mrs Potter is in the kitchen with the house elves until New Year's Eve, practically.'

'That sounds amazing,' Remus said wistfully, suppressing a yawn.

'You could always come,' Potter offered hospitably, stretching his arms above his head, and wincing when his back gave a horrible crick. 'Mum won't mind.'

Remus, distracted by the yawn that overtook him, which he artfully covered with his palm, didn't hear him. 'Sorry?' he asked around another yawn, rubbing sleepily at his good eye with his fist.

'You're welcome to join us for New Year's,' Black repeated. He didn't look half as sleepy as the two of them, and he was sitting calmly with his back still against the foot of the bed. He tilted his head forward slightly and scrubbed a hand through his shoulder-length hair, adjusting it so that part of it was combed backwards, and part of it fell, messily, to the side of his head. He appeared to be growing it out.

'Oh,' Remus said, surprised. 'I don't – I'd have to check with my parents.'

'Sure,' said Potter, getting up off the bed, and walking towards the window. 'Just let us know before New Year's, all right?'

'I will,' Remus replied, with a small smile.

Black returned his smile, and pulled himself up from off the bed as well, his movements startlingly fluid. Potter, meanwhile, had clambered up onto the desk, and was fiddling with the fastening of Remus's window, and Black made to join him. On his way there, however, he seemed to notice all of the books that had been shoved to the floor when they came in, and he turned round. 'Sorry about that.'

'That's okay,' said Remus, who had now gotten out of bed as well. He was, thankfully, wearing both his button-down and a set of pyjama bottoms, which effectively covered the bite-wound on his thigh. He drew in a breath, and slowly made his way over to the desk, suppressing a grimace as the now-familiar pain shot down his leg. He noticed Black was watching his movements carefully, and he raised his eyebrows in question.

'Fetching pyjamas,' Black commented, as if that was what he was thinking, and then he leaned forward and began to gather the numerous books that were spread out over Remus's chair and the carpet.

'No, don't –' Remus attempted, alarmed. '– don't. I can pick those up.'

Black gave him a funny look, but otherwise ignored him, gathering all of the books in his arms and even reaching under the desk to retrieve a quill Remus hadn't even realised he was missing. He got up, and put all of the things onto Remus's chair, so that they wouldn't be in the way when the two of them would be climbing out of the window.

'Thank you,' Remus murmured.

Potter had managed to open the window, and pushed it open with a triumphant breath. A bitter wind blew into the room, and Remus shivered when it bit through his thin pyjamas, rubbing his hands over his arms.

Potter gave him an apologetic look. 'See you around, Remus,' he said, using Remus's name for the first time. 'Hopefully we'll see you for the party.' He leaned out, and positioned himself so that he was able to climb back down.

'Thanks,' Remus said, and meant it, possibly more than he could imagine. 'Happy holidays,' and, after a pause, he added, 'James.'

Potter grinned, saluted, and slid down the leaden drain pipe, letting go just before the end, and landing with an audible thump on his haunches in the garden.

Black silently clambered up to the desk, and then hoisted himself out of the window, lowering his body onto the pipe with a caution Remus hadn't expected to see from him. 'How did you know where I live?' Remus asked him, softly.

Black, who had been focused on steadying his grip, whipped his head up, and grinned. 'Ah, that would be telling,' he said, with a roguish wink, and followed James down before Remus could say anything in response. Remus stepped closer to the desk and leaned over it, sticking his head out of the window to follow his progress, and just caught Black landing on his feet. He slung his arm around Potter's shoulder and together, they followed the slightly overgrown stone path past the shed, and headed towards the very back of the garden. Remus watched the two of them climb over the stone wall, and waited until he could no longer see their silhouettes against the early morning sun.

When he came down for breakfast, an hour or so later, he found his father, who would usually already be at work by now, sitting at the breakfast table, reading the Daily Prophet. His mother was stood by the stove, and offered to make Remus eggs with soldiers, which he accepted. Seemingly by tacit agreement, none of them mentioned the argument from the previous day, as Remus tucked into his breakfast.

A little while later, his father stood up, and wiped the crumbs off his robe. 'Remus,' he said quietly, and Remus looked up, his mouth full. 'Did you need me to look at your eye?'

Surprised, Remus nodded, and dutifully stood while his father pulled his wand out. His father tugged him, by his sleeve, over to the ceiling light in the middle of the room, and tilted his head back, tracing his wand over the wound. 'I can't fix it entirely, but I can take down the swelling,' his father said, and murmured a healing charm. The magic from his wand flowed free and sunk into Remus's skin, who felt the heaviness of the swelling disappear.

'Thanks,' Remus said, after swallowing.

His father gave him a look, and was about to say something – offer him an apology, maybe – but then there was a tap at the kitchen window. His mother, who had been just about to slide two new eggs into a pan of boiling water on a spoon, dropped all three in in shock, and stepped back from the stove as the water splashed upwards. In a far more controlled movement, Remus's father stepped over to the window and opened it, letting in a handsome barn owl, which dutifully dropped a letter onto the breakfast table, and then flew out the way it came.

Remus's father shut the window again, and headed over to the table, grabbing the letter. He slit it open the side with his wand, and unfolded the white, fancy parchment, his eyes glancing over the words. After a while, he looked up, and maybe Remus imagined it, but he seemed to have grown a little paler.

Remus's mother, meanwhile, had returned to the stove, and was attempting to fish the smaller, silver spoon out of the pan with a larger, slotted spoon.

'We've been invited to the Potters' annual New Year's party,' Remus's father said weakly.

There was a splash, and then Remus's mother looked up, her hand free of spoons, shock written clearly into her features. 'We what?' she demanded.

Remus calmly returned to the breakfast table, sat down, and dunked one of his soldiers into his yolk. His father gave him a look that seemed to say that he knew exactly what Remus had to do with this, but he said nothing, instead looking at his wife.

'We have to go,' he said, sounding pained. 'We sent the Potter boy home yesterday when he was at the door and – and Mother's really close to them.'

'But we hardly know them,' his mother said, her voice high and slightly squeaky.

Lyall Lupin looked at his son, rather pointedly. 'Guess that doesn't matter.'

Thus, on the very last day of the year, Remus and his parents made their way up the gravelled path of a large farmhouse somewhere in Gloucestershire. The three of them stood under the roofed porch, and then his father rang the bell, looking nervous in his best robes. The door was opened not a breath later by Fleamont Potter, who was wearing a gold paper crown on top of his head, and somehow managed to look festive, instead of ridiculous.

'Ah, the Lupins!' he greeted. 'Good to have you. Come in, come in,' he said, stepping aside and making a sweeping, downward motion with his hand.

The three of them stepped through into a hallway that was low-ceilinged and white-washed, making the wooden structure of beams on the ceiling stand out. It was lit up, majestically, by strings and strings of fairy lights, and Remus would swear, later on, that one of the fairies by the staircase giggled and winked at him as they stepped into the parlour. The room was modestly sized, but filled with people, most of whom were gathered around the fireplace, drinking from expensive glasses, and dressed in the fanciest robes Remus had ever seen.

'The Lupins!' declared Mr Potter, to no one in particular, but yet everyone in the room looked around and smiled; some even raised their glasses in greeting. It made Remus feel suddenly, self-conscious, and he nervously rubbed the cut in his eyebrow, which had only just begun to heal, and was still slightly itchy. 'Drinks?' Mr Potter asked them, rubbing his hands together.

Outfitted with drinks, they had found three free seats next to the grand piano when Euphemia Potter appeared in the doorway. She clapped her hands to make herself heard over the soft chamber music that was playing from the charmed radio in the corner. 'Hello!' she announced, genially, once she had everyone's attention. 'Welcome everyone. Dinner is served, if you would follow me through.'

She gestured behind her and Remus and his parents followed the crowd of people into an amazing dining room, which had been spelled to expand in width, flowing neatly into the garden. Remus was seated, much to his relief, next to James, who was nowhere to be seen and, to his left, next to Sirius Black, who was also missing. His parents had been, thoughtfully, placed in-between one of dad's colleagues from the Ministry, Septimus Weasley, and his wife, Cedrella, whom Remus knew only vaguely. However, his father seemed pleased, and even his mum was smiling.

By the time the penultimate course, a shoulder steak in a pesto sauce, had disappeared, Black and Potter were still missing, and Remus shot a nervous glance at Mrs Potter. He found her smiling, and she rolled her eyes upstairs, before returning to the conversation with the man sitting next to her, her emerald earrings sparkling. Remus put his knife and fork away, and excused himself, pushing past chairs until he was out of the room. He closed the door behind him and the dinner chatter faded abruptly, as if he had performed a Silencing Charm, and he found himself in an empty hallway.

With some effort, he made his way up the stairs, the bite-wound on his thigh stinging painfully with every step he took until he reached the landing. He pulled at the sleeves of his robes, and looked around the first floor, which seemed to consist of more than nine rooms. There was always a sort of nervousness that came with being in other people's homes, and he wasn't sure he was ready to start snooping. Thankfully, at that moment, he heard voices coming from one of the rooms closest to him, and he knocked on the door, stood back, and waited.

The conversation stopped, and he heard footsteps approach the door, before it opened. 'Lupin!' said Potter happily. 'Took you long enough.' He swung the door open further and, oddly, the first thing Remus noticed about what was obviously his bedroom was Black, who was sitting on a temporary bed with his knees drawn up, a cigarette hanging, limply, between the fingers of his left hand. His hair was messy, falling in his face, but he, like Mr Potter, was sporting a gold crown. Black winked at him, and Remus, a bit awkwardly, broke eye-contact, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

'I take it you don't actually attend the party?' he asked, although he suspected he knew the answer.

James dove onto the enormous four-poster bed in the middle of the room, and then rolled over onto his back, glancing at Remus with an incredulous look. 'A five-course dinner with old and boring people?' he said. 'No. We usually make ourselves scarce and wait until they start setting off the fireworks.'

'Or until they play Sardines,' said Black, and something in his voice was different, because it was deeper and slightly hoarse. 'That's always fun.'

'You only say that because you always win,' Potter said. Without looking, he felt around the bed until he found the glittering orb that was lying down by his side. He threw it up into the air, and caught it deftly with one hand when it fell back down.

'You're just jealous because you're fucking shit at it,' said Black, matter-of-factly.

Wisely, Remus said nothing, and looked around for a place to sit. Black gave him a weird look, and scooted to the side, making room for him on the fold-up bed. Remus headed over, and gently lowered himself onto the sheets, gritting his teeth in an attempt to ignore the sharp jolt of pain that his bite-mark sent, resentfully, down his leg at the movement. He readjusted, slightly, until he was sitting with his back against Potter's wooden desk.

When he looked up, he found that Black was watching him, cigarette clenched between his teeth. Without taking his eyes off Remus, Black took a deliberate, deep drag of the cigarette and breathed out a cloud of smoke through his nose, before pulling the cigarette out of his mouth and holding it out to Remus. With a shake of his head, Remus refused, and instead looked to the bed, where Potter was still tossing the glass ball up in the air, alternating between catching it with his left hand and his right hand when it fell back down.

There was a moment of silence.

'It's almost time for dessert,' Remus offered, and wished he could take the words back as soon as he'd said them.

Black snorted, but said nothing.

'Something with fruit?' Potter guessed.

'Raspberry and vanilla bavarois,' Remus replied.

'Raspberry and vanilla bavarois,' repeated Black, with sarcastic awe. 'Imagine we'd've missed that, Jim. Life would've never been the same.'

Remus was spared a reply when Mrs Potter's sing-song shout of 'It's time for Sardines!' echoed through the house, her voice magically enhanced to reach every corner. Remus blinked, surprised. He figured that the dessert portion of the evening would've, at least, taken a little bit more time, but evidently, it hadn't.

Black was up like a shot. 'Brilliant,' he said, banishing the cigarette with a wave of his wand, and then he was out of the door before Remus had as much as blinked.

Potter threw the orb, which Remus only now realised must be the Remembrall he had read about in the Daily Prophet the other day, carelessly into a corner of the room. Then, he rolled over onto his stomach, and grinned. 'Ever played?'

Remus shook his head.

'You'll like it. There's a prize if you win,' said Potter, a competitive gleam in his eye, and together, they walked out of the room, down the stairs, and into the parlour, where everyone had gathered. Remus's father gave him an exasperated look, having apparently noticed him sneaking off during dinner, but Remus pretended not to see, and stood between Potter and Black, shoulders pressed together.

'Now that we're all here,' Mr Potter said, looking around the room. 'Sardines is quite a simple game. One person is selected to hide and the rest of us go search for them. If you find him or her, you hide in the same spot. If someone else finds you, they also hide in that spot, and so on and so forth. You will lose the game if you are the last person to find everyone. But, more interestingly,' he paused, his eyes dancing, 'you win the game if you've found a hiding place where no one thinks to look for you. Young Sirius Black here is our reigning champion.'

Black, for the first time since Remus had known him, beamed.

'I shall act as arbiter,' said Mrs Potter, with a small smile, handing out small, lion-shaped badges for them to take. 'These badges will track your movements and help decide the winner. Please pin them on your robes. And if you are, in any way, shape or form, hurt, distressed or maybe simply bored –' some people laughed, and she gave a charming grin, which Remus realised was exactly like James's – 'you can return to the parlour any time you wish and hand me your badge. You will automatically forfeit and I will automatically hand you the drink that is no more than your due.' More laughter. 'The game is over when everyone is found or if the clock hits twenty minutes to midnight, which gives everyone enough time to gather back here for the fireworks and the prizes. Any questions?'

There were no questions. Remus pinned the badge onto his chest and watched, slightly mesmerised, as the lion lit up with a green hue. Mrs Potter waited patiently until everyone had put on their badges, and then took out her wand. 'Ready?' she beamed. 'Three, two, one, off you go!' Her wand let out an enormous bang, and the room was filled with laughter and confusion as people ran in different directions.

Just before Remus left the room, he caught the eye of Mrs Potter, who had sunk down into a chair by the fire, drink in hand. She held up her glass in cheers, and Remus grinned back, heading out into the hallway.

In the end, he decided to go outside, and followed sets of unfamiliar and partial footsteps through the gravel. The sound of the gravel nagged at his ears, scratchy and loud, but it matter little, and he was still grinning by the time he skidded into the garden. He looked around. There was a low building to the left of him, with white-painted French doors, some of which stood open, curtains billowing in the sharp winter breeze. Two of the rooms still had the lights on, and Remus could see trunks and bags stood by beds, which would make these the guest quarters.

He could already see swishes of robes and silhouettes gathered inside, so he, instead, took a left, and ventured deeper into the garden, the gravel crunching faithfully beneath his feet. There were buildings upon buildings that filled the grounds and, what felt like hours later, Remus's eye fell, oddly, upon what was arguably the smallest one, a stone cottage made of a darker brown brick. He snuck towards the front door, as quietly as he could, and tried it. It gave way immediately, and opened noiselessly into a cosy living room.

Remus pressed the door shut, and let himself in. For a few seconds, he allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness, and then looked around. The living room was small and sparsely decorated, sporting only a cream-coloured sofa and a sitting chair next to an empty fireplace. In front of him was a small, rickety staircase, which led into a landing which appeared to only have two doors, both easily visible from where he was stood.

He ran his hand over the mantle above the fireplace, which was empty save for two giant silver candlesticks, and peered into the kitchen, which consisted of an Aga, wooden countertops, and a deep, porcelain sink. The door in the kitchen led into what Remus presumed to be the scullery and when he glanced out of the small window inside, he could see a part of the garden. The only light in the cottage was coming from the badge on Remus's chest, which emitted, with every beat of his heart, a soft green light.

Eventually, Remus decided that the best place to hide would be in the upstairs bedroom. Silently cursing the sheer amount of staircases the Potter farmhouse insisted on having, he made his way upstairs, and found that, despite what he had previously thought, there were more than just two rooms. Hesitating for only a second, he pushed down the handle of the door closest to him, and almost missed the sharp intake of breath when the door fell open.

There was a moment of quiet, during which Remus deliberated getting his wand out and checking to see if he had imagined it, but then his badge lit up, changing to blue, and the curtain at the far end of the room, which hid a magnificent ceiling-to-floor window from sight, was pushed back.

Remus made his way to the window sill, which was barely wide enough to fit two people, and clambered onto it with some effort. The badge on the robes of the person sitting next to him flared into life, too, and then it glowed upwards, bathing the face of Sirius Black in blue light.

'Figures you would be the one to ruin my streak,' Black said, resentfully, but there was a smile tugging at his lips.

Author's Note: Oh my goodness, but was this chapter was a beast to write. It has stood open on my computer for the last five days and went through as many different versions, including, memorably, one wherein Remus didn't even attend the party, which is slightly blasphemous, if you think about it too long.

Thankfully, even though this chapter has now firmly steered this story into a course which is entirely different from the one I had so far planned, I do like it - and I hope you do, too.

For those who would be curious to know, the Potter farmhouse is based on a real-life Gloucestershire home called Ampney Knowle, which is easily one of the most beautiful homes I've ever seen, although I did take some liberties.

I wish to close by saying that all of your lovely comments and messages make me feel so appreciated and loved, so thank you so much for taking the time to reach out. You're the best!