Sorry for the wait again. I take the last of my exams this weekend and after that I'm free :). Updates shouldn't take this long at that point.
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Disclaimer: this world and its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
For the first time, Sirius almost didn't want school to start. The major reason he had loved school was for the distance it provided from his family and the proximity it provided to his friends. That summer, he had had both.
He grinned at the thought, but it quickly faded when he shouldered past a couple students and caught the glimpse of a Slytherin tie. The students didn't notice him, and their voices carried. He wouldn't have paid much attention to it—he didn't, until they started discussing the one thing that had made him dread coming to school.
"Have you seen Regulus Black?"
Sirius stiffened. The students weren't speaking that loudly, but to him, they might as well have shouted his brother's name for all the Express to hear. Glancing down the corridor, where James was waiting in their usual compartment, he doubled back and swung into an empty compartment near the students.
"He looks like shit," said another student in a low voice, and Sirius thought this one seemed familiar. There was something in the tone—cool, refined, and cultured (most Slytherins liked to pretend to be cultured, even if they were bigoted bastards) that identified him as a Slytherin.
"Is he all right?" came a girl's voice, sounding worried.
"Do not ask him," returned the boy who'd spoken last. "Trust me; he's my Housemate. Let him be. If he wants our help, he'll volunteer the information himself."
"I haven't seen him," said another girl. "Although I have to say I can't imagine him looking anything less than perfect."
Sirius's head snapped around to stare incredulously at the compartment door so quickly that he nearly hit it. The voices started fading, and after a moment Sirius judged it safe to step out. He joined James several minutes later, shaking his head when James looked at him questioningly.
"You haven't seen Regulus, have you?" he asked reluctantly.
James frowned. "No," he answered, "but—"
"I have." Remus was leaning against the door, looking at Sirius. "He's a mess."
Sirius sat up worriedly. "What's wrong with him?"
Remus shrugged, sliding into a seat. "No idea. But if you saw us together, you'd never guess I was the werewolf."
Sirius's expression tightened before he looked away, but James leaned forward, watching Remus intently. "Speaking of," he said, "about the new werewolf legislation—"
The train began to move, and Remus took that as his cue to interrupt James. "I should go," he said hastily, reluctant to reopen the discussion they'd already hashed over about twenty times that summer. It wasn't his favorite topic, and it only led to even worse ones, like the political movement that was currently growing barely under the radar and would probably soon monopolize the attention of the Prophet's headlines. "Prefect's meeting."
He slipped out of the compartment just as Krish and Alex appeared out of a nearby one and grinned, relaxing when he saw them. "Fair summer?" he asked.
"Glad to be back," said Krish. "I wonder who the new Heads are. . ." He raised an eyebrow at Alex, who shrugged.
"Ravenclaw got Head Girl—it's Liv. Head Boy is Tim Brown . . . this year won't be like the last, that much is clear enough."
"Nobody could live up to Benjy and Liz," said Remus. He gave Alex a pointed look. "As for Tim, I suppose you think you could do better?"
Alex grinned. "Ah, I didn't expect to be chosen for Head," he said dismissively. "Too . . . incendiary." Remus and Krish laughed at that, remembering Alex's fondness for Gryffindor-baiting from the House-unity meetings the previous year. Remus hadn't found it particularly amusing at the time, but whatever Liz and Benjy had done must have worked because he'd developed somewhat of an appreciation for Alex since then.
"'What's the vast difference between daring and nerve?'" Remus mimicked. "Do they teach being a prick in Slytherin, or is it something that comes naturally to you?"
"Both," Krish suggested, and they laughed again. "By the way, Alex, who are the new Slytherin prefects? You mentioned the Greengrass sisters were both chosen for Slytherin and Hufflepuff."
Alex nodded. "And Regulus Black," he said fondly. "Ah—here we are." He slid open the compartment door and they stepped through.
"Remus!" Lily exclaimed when she saw him, smiling.
"'Lo, Lily," he grinned, and as he took a seat beside her he saw Liv wink at him before clearing her throat.
"Is everyone here? Where's Black?"
"I'm here." Everyone's heads swiveled to the doorway, where Regulus Black stood watching Liv. He'd clearly just arrived, and his clothes were in a state of disarray Remus found alarming on him. He didn't offer an explanation for his tardiness as he crossed the compartment to drop into the seat beside Eireen Greengrass, managing to recline in the limited space it offered.
Greengrass glanced at him, and he shook his head almost imperceptibly before his eyes roved across the compartment, finally settling on Remus.
Liv decided to forge ahead. "Good. As I'm sure you all know, Tim and I are the Heads this year. Liz and Benjy did a brilliant job last year, and we've decided to run things similarly. In that vein, we'll be continuing with the inter-House partnerships. Tim's passing out schedules right now."
Remus waited for the schedule sheet to be passed to him, shifting uncomfortably under Regulus's unblinking stare. Regulus Black had a way of turning up with unnerving frequency. It had to be a hundred times worse for Sirius, but Remus couldn't fathom what reason the younger Black might have for studying him so intensely.
It was even more unsettling in Regulus's gaunt state. He clearly had not been eating well; his face had lost all traces of fat and was angular in a way even the Black's sharp features did not warrant. His clothes, always tailored to his body, hung off him just enough to be jarring. He had dark circles under his eyes, and they looked like violet bruises against his unhealthily pale skin. Without color in his face, his eyes looked like glass, and his lips were dark where he had bitten them.
Lily nudged him. "Schedule, Remus." Startled, he tore his gaze away from Regulus, aware that he was still being scrutinized.
"Thanks," he muttered, taking the schedule, praying that his partner wouldn't be Regulus Black. To his relief, it wasn't—it was Eireen Greengrass. Remus glanced at her—dark hair swept back, and a cold, haughty expression. "This'll be fun."
Lily smiled at him. "We still have our regular patrols."
"—concludes this meeting," finished Tim, and Remus glanced up in surprise as everyone stood to leave. He caught Regulus Black's gaze again, and Regulus shook his head slightly, remaining seated. Remus waited impatiently until everyone had left the compartment and then closed the door expectantly.
"Can I help you with something?" he demanded.
Regulus studied him, as if he hadn't done so enough already. "A word of warning," he said finally. "It was an accident. She shouldn't have been there. But she was, and she has broken the law for you. Don't throw it in her face."
Remus blinked. "What?"
Regulus stood, ignoring his confusion. He let his hand settle on the handle of the door, pausing for a moment before he left. "Don't waste it, Lupin."
And then he was gone.
"Wait," Sirius said quickly, placing a hand on Regulus's shoulder to turn him around. Regulus stiffened, and then all at once the three of them spun around, Regulus jerking his shoulder violently out of Sirius's grasp.
Sirius drew back sharply at the sight of Regulus's face. "What happened to you?"
Fawley and Diaval exchanged glances and then backed away, leaving Sirius alone with Regulus, who stared at him expressionlessly.
"What do you care?" he asked tonelessly.
Sirius stared down at his brother, aware for the first time that he had gained enough height that Regulus seemed very small all of a sudden. He looked very much like he had as a little boy—hair tousled, locks falling over his forehead instead of combed back neatly and clothes he was meant to "grow into" swallowing him slightly.
"Merlin, Regulus, what's happened to us?"
Regulus looked up at that, anger chasing its way across his features. "What's happened to us?" he repeated. "What's happened to us? You happened to us, you unbelievable bastard!"
"Me?" Sirius asked incredulously. "Right, because everything's my fault, isn't it? What exactly did I do now?"
"You left me!"
Sirius drew back again. Regulus was breathing heavily, hands fisted at his sides. "You couldn't have expected me to stay there," Sirius said quietly.
"But I did." Regulus inhaled sharply. "Did you know when we were younger I used to idolize you? Of course you know. You took it for granted. But even when you were sorted into Gryffindor, I defended you because I thought you would still be the same. Except you cast off the rest of us without qualms. And since then I've spent years watching you run away, over and over and over again. And every time I've lost a little more respect for you. That wasn't brave, Sirius. That was cowardice. You had nothing to lose in running away. It's everyone else who has to bear the consequences."
"I'm not a doormat," Sirius growled. "I can't let people walk all over me out of some misplaced sense of loyalty. Surely your Slytherin sensibilities can understand that."
"Misplaced?" Regulus asked. "I'm actually nothing to you, then? I'm not even worth—"
"Our family is full of prejudiced bastards, Regulus. I can't align myself with people like that. So no, you aren't worth that. No one is."
"Father was right. You think you're better than any of us? You've deluded yourself into ignoring the darker parts of your character. The parts that don't fit well with Gryffindor ideals. Tell me—if you're so good, why do you treat Kreacher like a beast? Why do you treat Snape like one?"
"Shut up," Sirius snarled. "'Father was right.' Do you ever think for yourself? You're just like the rest of them. You still agree with his views on the Muggle world, don't you?"
Regulus fell silent. Sirius sneered. "That's what I thought. You think you have room to take the moral high ground—"
"No," Regulus interrupted, "but at least I know exactly what I am. I don't lie to myself about my own faults. And I no longer care what you think of me. You're selfish and cruel and lawless, and you're only noble when it suits you. But you have no real loyalty to anyone except James Potter, whom you seem to have an unhealthy obsession with—"
"That's friendship, though I'm sure that's difficult for you to understand—"
"No, he's just the perfect Gryffindor ideal you've always chased, and that's—"
"Shut up." Sirius grabbed Regulus by the collar and slammed him into the wall. "Listen. I came because I was worried about you, but I shouldn't have. You're perfectly fine with them, aren't you? You wouldn't have come with me even if I had asked."
Regulus stared at him. "No," he said. "I wouldn't have." He voice shook. "But do you know why," he rasped, "I look like this?" Sirius let go of Regulus, shoving himself away, but Regulus stepped forward again. "It's because of you. Word of what you did spread quickly, and our family is lucky enough to be in the thick of this political revolution that's brewing. And Father wanted nothing more than to let Bella bear the Black responsibility to it, and to let us stay neutral and unnoticed. But you drew attention to us and they had no use but to disassociate us from you—to disown you. And now I'm heir to a legacy that's being questioned by a very powerful man. What do you think they want from me now, Sirius?"
Sirius narrowed his eyes. "You can't be considering it. Joining him. Father wouldn't—"
"He's not your father anymore," Regulus said coldly. "You don't know any of what's happening."
"You're so stupid—"
"I have to do what you wouldn't. I have to make sure our family—"
"To hell with them. Regulus, listen to me, don't—"
"Why would I listen to you? You did this to me. You've made nothing but bad decisions, and now I have to pay for them."
"If I find out you've done this, I'll never forgive you."
Regulus looked at him incredulously. "I can't imagine anything worse." He narrowed his eyes. "You don't have to forgive me anything, Sirius. You've chosen your side. Congratulations on your success. You're free of us. But you can't keep crossing the line, pretending as if you always mean to come back. What's done is done. What I do now—it's none of your concern. It is the business of members of the Black family."
"So that's it, then?" Sirius sneered. "Mummy burns me off the tapestry, so you decide to ignore me as well. Godric, and you wonder why I prefer James to you. At least he thinks for himself."
Regulus didn't look even a little fazed by that. He said something else, but Sirius didn't hear it as the weight of their situation hit him in full. Regulus was done, Sirius realized, truly done caring about Sirius's approval. None of what he had said had been bluster. The tenuous tether tying them together had finally snapped, and it was irrecoverable.
Sirius might not have cared much for the person in front him, but he couldn't help but mourn the brother he remembered from their childhood. He looked at Regulus bitterly. "Good-bye, little brother."
Regulus gave him a look he couldn't begin to read before laughing darkly. "You're six years too late," he said, and then he stepped around Sirius and walked away.
"Congrats, James," said Marlene, clapping him on the back. "You'll make an excellent captain. Have you decided tryouts yet?"
"I'm holding them this weekend—"
"Slytherin's already booked the pitch," Angela cut it, coming up on his other side. James swore in annoyance.
"We need a new Keeper and Seeker," he said in irritation. "We need to get a head start this year. I will not lose in the first year of my captaincy. Especially not to Slytherin."
"You have nothing to prove, James," said Hestia, glancing up at him from her chair by the fire. "You're the best player at Hogwarts right now. This year will be ours."
"We have an advantage," he said, sitting as well. "Slytherin is at its weakest this year. Talkalot and Vanity both graduated, so no one remains of that ridiculous Montague-Vanity-Talkalot trinity. In fact, the only person left of that monster of a Slytherin team is Pucey."
"Who's now captain," said Marlene. "And Slytherin had another influx of talent. Their strongest positions are the ones we have open."
"Exactly," James agreed. "That's why I wanted to hold tryouts as early as possible. Our Keeper this year will get a good break now that Slytherin's lost two of its Chasers and the third is young, but expecting a new player to face off against Regulus Black? The kid could play for England."
"He's looking sick this year," Angela pointed out. "Maybe he won't be up to his usual performance."
"One can only hope," Marlene muttered. "That Sherwood-Fawley partnership is a fiend."
"Thankfully, so is the Black-Jones one," Hestia grinned. James exhaled at that, relieved. If there was one level Gryffindor could match Slytherin evenly on, even in past years, it was Beating. This year was the best chance Gryffindor had had in a long time of taking the Cup.
"What do we know about Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff?" he asked.
He glanced around but was met with shrugs. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had both enjoyed success on the field in their own times, but it was rare that all four Houses reached their peaks at the same time. Slytherin had crested several years ago and its brilliance was waning, while Gryffindor, too had reached a height just before Slytherin (if not as high) and then petered off gently before stagnating.
At least currently, the main competitor was Slytherin.
"We'll see what happens," James sighed, leaning his head back against the chair and closing his eyes against the warmth of the fire. The Gryffindor common room had to be the most comfortable place in the castle.
He listened to the crackle of the flames, the blistering pop of the embers and the gentle hiss of the smoke. "Is it just me or is the sound of fire one of your favorite sounds ever?" he asked aloud.
When he received no answer, he opened his eyes to find that most of the team had dispersed, leaving Peter sitting in the chair opposite him, watching him strangely.
"No," he said. There were several beats of silence before he spoke again. "Why?"
James glanced at Peter. "It feels more like peace now than it has in the past year, doesn't it? Even after this summer. Especially after this summer."
"Because Sirius is downstairs and Remus is in our dormitory?" Peter asked quietly.
James's mouth opened slightly at that. "Merlin," he laughed. "It sounds horrible when you say it."
He turned away from the fire in time to see Lily head for the dormitories with Alice beside her, and his breath actually caught. She looked better than he'd ever seen her—that summer had clearly been good for her. She seemed almost radiant, laughing with her head tossed back and unbridled joy on her face.
"Evans," he called before he could stop himself.
She paused mid-conversation and looked at him, her expression dimming slightly when she saw him. "Go out with me this year," he said quickly before she could speak. "Give it a try. Come on, Evans."
"Don't waste your time, Potter," she said, giving him an annoyed look.
James forced a smile as she turned away. "Better luck next time, you reckon?" he asked Peter.
Peter was looking at him with open admiration. "Sure," he said, and James shoved himself to his feet.
Giving the fire a last glance, he left Peter behind and headed for the dormitories.
The last thing Remus expected to see when he walked into their empty dormitory late that Friday evening was Demetria Fawley's slender form casually leaning against his bedpost. She raised an eyebrow at him when he came in, taking in his shock coolly.
"How did you get in here?" Remus demanded.
Fawley looked amused, and before she could say indulge in typical Slytherin condescension, he amended, "What's so important you decided to risk getting caught to break into my dormitory?" He narrowed his eyes. "Are you waiting for Sirius? He's—"
"At Quidditch practice with Potter, yes, I know," she said. "And Pettigrew . . . well, I know where he is. I'm not risking anything by being here." She gave him a disdainful look. "As if I'd ever sink to even touching Sirius Black. I think it's fairly obvious which Black brother I prefer."
Remus ignored that. "You're here for me?" he asked skeptically.
The smile playing at her lips vanished. "Listen to me, Lupin. This is important." She beckoned him closer, and reluctantly, he closed the distance between them. Up close, he was several inches taller than her. She tilted her head back to stare directly into his eyes, and he realized with a start that up close, she was remarkably pretty.
"After the new werewolf legislation passed this summer, the moment you turn seventeen, your life will be over." The words snapped him out of his thoughts, and Remus reacted before he could think. He slammed Fawley against his bedpost, holding her against it with one hand and pointing his wand directly at her face.
"How did you—" He froze. Fawley. "Your mother," he snarled.
Fawley watched him warily. "My mother has nothing to do with this," she said firmly, eyeing his wand. "She told me nothing, do you understand? It was my fault. I snuck into the ward and—"
"What did you see?"
"Nothing," she said. "I couldn't even tell who you were."
"So you figured it out. How?"
"I didn't," she said calmly, looking unfazed by his assault. He supposed he had more to fear from her than she did from him. "You're subtle enough, Lupin. Only someone with a reason to pay very close attention for a long time would notice."
Remus released her roughly, the realization setting in. He stepped back. "Regulus Black." He remembered the odd conversation they had had in the prefects' compartment on the Hogwarts Express. "How long has he known?"
Fawley shook her head. "I don't know. But that's not important. I saw the werewolves in that ward, Lupin. It was horrifying, the state their lives have been reduced to. If you're registered, your future is—"
"Why are you telling me this?" Remus snapped. "You think I don't know all of this? What's your aim? Blackmail?"
"I'm trying to help you."
Remus stared at her. Fawley had lost the collectedness she had displayed when he first walked into the room. The hairpins holding her hair back had been displaced when he slammed her against the bedpost, and she looked disheveled and distressed.
She held out a piece of paper to him. "There's a loophole," she said quietly. "You were born in a Muggle hospital, so you're officially unregistered in the wizarding world. As long as you keep that as proof, you can avoid registering yourself when you turn seventeen. If you're caught, they can't legally prosecute you because you're not technically a citizen of the wizarding world. Nobody ever checks birth certificates because proof of a magical education like N.E.W.T.s is proof that you're a wizard. Because of the way the law is worded, you might have a chance at a normal life."
Remus was speechless. He stared at the slip of paper in his hands in amazement, unable to express what he was feeling. He and Fawley weren't even casual acquaintances—he couldn't remember ever saying something even cordial to her—and yet she had just given him a gift as valuable as the one his friends had given him when they had pursued the animagus transformation for him.
"I won't ask how you did this," he said softly, "but why? Why would you do this for me?"
"It had nothing to do with you," said Fawley. "I didn't even know who you were until Regulus told me—"
"You're Slytherins," said Remus. "Forget me. Why would you do this for a werewolf? We're considered scum."
"So naturally, as a Slytherin, we should be glad that law was passed," Fawley sneered. She looked at him coldly. "Dear Salazar. You're the prejudiced ones, do you realize that?"
Remus scoffed. "I realize not all Slytherins are monsters. But you? Regulus Black? Don't lie to me and tell me he's the most tolerant person to ever walk these halls. Slytherins, especially purebloods, subscribe to traditional wizarding values, and you're no exception."
"Don't tell me what Slytherin values are," Fawley said bitingly. "Salazar Slytherin believed that everyone has the right to ambition. To dreams, and the ability to strive for them. Don't judge views you don't fully understand, Lupin."
"I'm sorry," he said. It was her turn to look surprised. "Krish has explained Slytherin's blood separatist views to me before. I know none of it's black and white, and a lot of it stemmed from logic. But that doesn't excuse the lengths it has evolved into today, and it doesn't change the fact that at the very least Regulus Black is a modern blood purist."
"Don't judge him too harshly," said Fawley. "He's a better person than you know. And his position . . ." She shook her head, and Remus realized suddenly how close to her he was standing. He leaned away. "I didn't come here to discuss this." She nodded at the paper. "Take care, Lupin."
Remus swallowed. "Thank you." He cleared his throat. "I mean it. Thank you. And thank him too."
Fawley gave him a long, unreadable look. "Here's the blackmail," she said. "If you tell anyone about this, I will use it to ruin you. My mother will not be implicated in this. Regulus will not be implicated in this. I will not be implicated in this. If you end up getting caught anyway, it has nothing to do with any of us. Is that clear?"
Remus nodded once and looked away, finding it difficult to breathe.
When he looked up again, she was gone.
Sirius and James found him on his bed, sitting in silence and staring at nothing. His hair was thoroughly mussed from being attacked by his hands, and he was oddly flushed.
"Have you decided on a new Seeker and Keeper?" Remus asked, looking up at their entrance.
Sirius grinned, joining him on his bed. "Rohan J. for Keeper and Keira Dane for Seeker."
"What about Slytherin's new players?" Remus asked.
"Some bloke called Kiaz," said Sirius.
"And Aneirin Edmunds is the other Chaser," James added. "Dunno how good they are yet, but Rohan's looking good for Keeper, so I like our chances. What've you been doing in here all evening?"
"I can guess," Sirius said suddenly, grinning. He snatched something off of Remus's bed and held it up to the light. Remus resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall when he recognized Fawley's emerald studded hair pins.
"Had a girl up here, Moony?" Sirius laughed.
"Er—yes," said Remus.
"Had a good evening then?" James joined in, grinning broadly.
Remus glanced at the pins and then smiled. "You have no idea."
The atmosphere was different. It had been the simple desire to be better, to know more, that had driven them before. Now there was something grimmer in the sense of purpose they displayed.
"I want this knowledge," a Ravenclaw (Quirrell?) had said last year, and entered their circle.
"I want to use this knowledge," a new Slytherin said now, his gaze fixing on Peter with a slight smile. Peter shivered. It was terrifying. Evan Rosier looked at the newcomer coolly.
"It's about time, Stefan," he said, and the new arrival—Stefan—entered the circle. Rosier raised his voice. "He's right. We should start using the knowledge we gain. We all know what's coming."
(They really didn't.)
"Amycus Carrow," Rosier drawled, spinning on his heel and meeting the eyes of the person he'd just called out. He twirled his wand deftly in his hand. "I challenge you to a duel."
Carrow's narrow features twisted into a sneer. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw the new boy, Stefan, smile fully. He didn't know how it started, but one moment everyone was still, and the next, chaos erupted.
Peter found himself in the first duel he'd ever experienced. He didn't really know what he was doing—he mostly cast protego after protego, unable to tell who exactly he was fighting. There were flashes of light all around him. Most of them weren't saying anything aloud.
A hand gripped his shoulder suddenly, pulling his out of the throng with roughly. "Hello, Peter," Malik said in his ear, and Peter yelped and turned around.
Malik raised an eyebrow at him. "Don't join in," he said. "Watch."
Peter turned back to the duels and flushed when he realized that it a lot of people had melted to the fringes of the group of fighters. The initial chaos had galvanized most people into mindless motion, but just as quickly, many of them had ceased.
The duels were not one-on-one. People like Nott, Rosier, Black, Snape, Avery, Mulciber, Stefan—almost all Slytherins, many of them purebloods—had begun one of the most inventive fights Peter could ever have imagined. The Transfiguration he had spent hours learning the previous year was suddenly being used as a defensive maneuver.
As he stared, Evan Rosier paused briefly to grin at Carrow, who had a moment of confusion before a sack of flour hit him in the head and knocked him out cold. Carrow crumpled to the ground, revealing a smirking Regulus Black, who enjoyed a conciliatory nod with Rosier before sending a curse at him that sent him flying into the nearby wall and ended with him sprawled across the floor, furious.
Someone let out a roar of pain, and a few drops of blood splattered across the ground—and somehow, all at once, everyone stopped fighting and someone muttered a healing charm.
Breathing heavily, Nott surveyed the room. It was well and truly trashed. "Real duels next time," he declared. "Clearly we need to work up to this."
From the ground, Rosier began to laugh.
"What just happened?" Peter whispered.
"There's been talk in our House that we need to learn to properly defend ourselves. Next time, we won't have a brawl, Pettigrew. Next time we'll have a dueling club."
"What are we learning to defend ourselves against?" Peter asked.
Anders came up on his other side. "What's coming." He looked at Peter closely. "What were you thinking, trying to be a part of that? You'd have ended up like Carrow."
"I wasn't thinking," Peter answered. "I still don't understand what the point of that was."
"It was experimental," said Malik. "They think that'll be us someday. But deadlier."
"So how did your O.W.L.s go?" Anders asked, changing the subject.
Peter shrugged. "Four O.W.L.s, thanks to this. I could have done worse."
From behind him, someone scoffed. "Could have done better."
Peter turned to find Alecto Carrow sneering at him. He tensed, wondering if either Malik or Anders would bother coming to his defense. They said nothing.
He said nothing.
"A word of advice," someone announced later that night, as they were leaving. "Consider your defenses in a fight. For next time."
Peter frowned, glancing at the other students leaving. Inadvertently, he found himself staring directly at Severus Snape, who looked back at him expressionlessly.
Something unnamable festering in his chest, Peter averted his gaze and turned the corner.
Remus waited impatiently for his patrol partner to arrive, a sense of déjà vu overwhelming him as he remembered rushing to meet Krish for their first patrol the previous year. It was another partner and another meeting, but he wondered if it would be half as interesting as the last.
"Remus Lupin."
Remus jumped, spinning around to find Greengrass standing behind him. "Greengrass," he greeted, offering his hand.
When she spoke, her tone held the typical faint amusement he'd come to expect from Slytherins—invariably, they acted either perpetually amused or cool when they spoke—but to his surprise, her words were friendly instead of reserved. "It's Eireen," she corrected. "There are three of us. Saying 'Greengrass' only gets confusing. Shall we?"
They began to walk. "I know you've got a sister, but you said there are three of you?"
"Right. Juliet and I are twins, but our little brother Killian's a fourth year."
"Is he Slytherin as well? Or a Hufflepuff like your sister?"
"Neither—he's a Ravenclaw." Her eyes narrowed at a nearby cupboard. "Already?" she muttered.
Remus frowned as a low growl followed by a high-pitched wail came from the cupboard. Shortly after, a sound like nails scraping across the wood sounded, and he gave Eireen an alarmed look. "Whoever they are, that does not sound like a normal s—"
Eireen flicked her wand at the cupboard door, and it flew open, stopping his speech mid-word and leaving them both staring at the sight inside.
"Oh, speak of the devil," Eireen complained after a moment.
Remus watched bemusedly as a boy stepped out, clutching Mrs. Norris at arm's length. There were claw-shaped tears in the blue lining of his robes, and the cat had been petrified in a clearly indignant state, fur fluffed up and expression outraged.
"Killian, what are you doing with Filch's cat?" Eireen demanded, and Remus looked at the boy with new interest upon discovering who he was.
Killian grinned up at his sister. Standing beside each other, they looked alike—Killian was a shorter version of his sister, but with a dark gold undercut that flopped over his forehead and much more disheveled.
"I think it's fairly obvious what I'm doing," he said impishly. "I'm doing this entire castle a favor."
"Killian, how many times have I told you not to get caught?" Eireen demanded exasperatedly.
"She means don't break rules," Remus interjected.
"I mean don't get caught," said Eireen, giving him a pointed look, "Marauder." She turned back to her brother. "Ah well. It's your House, not mine. That'll be—"
"Wait!" Killian interrupted. "Before you take points, listen to my side of the story. I've been wronged!"
Eireen rolled her eyes. "You can't just kill everything that wrongs you, Killian. I thought I taught you better than that."
"I wasn't going to kill her," he protested. "I was grooming her."
Remus laughed. None of his patrols with Krish had been like this. "Grooming her," he repeated.
"Yes," Killian said solemnly. "When I said I was doing this entire castle a favor, I meant aesthetically."
Eireen reached out and ruffled Killian's hair. "You're my favorite sibling," she said fondly. "Ten points from—"
"Wait," Killian said again. "I wasn't doing anything wrong!"
"It's after hours," Remus pointed out. "Unfortunately all grooming must be done within your common room after hours. Perhaps kidnap Filch's cat tomorrow at any time there's still sunlight."
"There's sunlight now!" Killian argued immediately. "All moonlight is sunlight. Also one could argue that just because we can't see the sunlight doesn't mean it's not there—"
"Control yourself, Ravenclaw," Eireen intoned. "Ten points from—"
"Juliet would listen to my story!" Killian complained. "I'm carrying out justice. Surely that's more important than the rules."
"Justice," Eireen scoffed. "I need to speak to Juliet about putting these ridiculous Hufflepuff ideas in your head. Nobody cares about fair, Killian."
"You can come with us," Remus suggested, highly entertained. "I want to hear your story. We'll give you a fair hearing." He shrugged at Eireen, who rolled her eyes.
"We have to go," she muttered. She gestured at her brother. "Start talking."
What followed was one of the most inventive stories Remus had ever had the pleasure of hearing. It began, apparently, with Killian and his friend innocently meeting in an empty classroom to study and evolved into a mad chase through the corridors with Mrs. Norris hot on their heels, thirsting for their blood and tears and hard-earned House points that ended with Killian luring the cat into a cupboard, his friend having suffered an unexplained disappearance somewhere during the course of the story.
"—and during all that she got dirty, see," he finished. "So naturally, I decided to groom her."
"And of course the only way to do this was a full body-bind," Remus said wisely.
"She wouldn't stay still," Killian agreed seriously. "You know what they say about cats and baths." He looked expectantly at Eireen, who appeared distinctly unimpressed.
"Right," she said. "Ten points from—"
"Five," Remus cut in, deciding the boy warranted five points for sheer creative brilliance. "Five points from Ravenclaw." He raised an eyebrow at Killian. "Not going to protest that?"
Killian shrugged good-naturedly, giving him a wicked smile. "You docked everyone else ten. Good night!" With a wink at his sister, he was off, dashing down the corridor towards the Ravenclaw common room.
They watched him go. "He's—"
"Yeah," Eireen agreed, nodding. "I know." A corner of her mouth tugged upwards. "He's told better ones," she told Remus as they returned to their starting point. "There's a game we play in Slytherin—who can invent the best lies, sell the most outrageous stories. A friend of mine can tell you the most ridiculous things with a straight face and make them seem absolutely true. Killian's like that. He's got no imaginative limit."
The affection in her voice was plain. "What's it like?" Remus asked curiously. "Having a sibling, I mean." Peter always talked about his little sister with the same affection Eireen spoke of Killian with, and he imagined the world must be a far less lonely place with a sibling—friends had to be made, but siblings were given at birth and couldn't be taken away again.
Except in some cases, Remus reminded himself, thinking of Sirius and Regulus Black.
"Best thing in the world," she told him. "We're supposed to learn about each other's Houses, right? Here's something Slytherin: we're extremely family oriented. We like belonging to tight-knit groups. Having siblings is like that. We bicker a lot and frequently their existence annoys me, but I wouldn't be an only child for all the galleons in the world."
Remus imagined growing up with Sirius and James and Peter. He'd never thought much about what his childhood might have been like with someone to share it with—he knew his parents might have had another child eventually had it not been for his condition, and the thoughts that followed that were not ones worth spending time on.
For the first time, it occurred to him that both Black brothers were throwing away an incredible privilege.
"Right," he muttered. "I'm heading off, then. See you next time, Eireen."
She winked, just like her brother had. "Good night, Remus."
He returned to the Gryffindor common room with a smile on his face, amusement at their encounter with Killian Greengrass lingering. He didn't know what he had expected Eireen Greengrass to be like, but he found himself surprised by how much he liked her.
"Lithium," he told the Fat Lady, and the portrait swung open to let Remus through. As he stepped into the common room, he nearly ran over Hestia, who was sporting a swollen right hand and a very black eye. "What happened to you?" he asked in alarm.
Hestia shook her head. "Don't ask," she growled. "I'm out of the friendly tomorrow afternoon, though." She scowled and staggered out the door, muttering something about bloody plants and bloody wigs.
Belatedly, Remus remembered the friendly the next day—it was Gryffindor versing Slytherin, for no reward other than pride. Taking the stairs to the dormitories two at a time, Remus walked through the door in time to hear Sirius say winningly, "Hello, you sexy beast," and snap his fingers, pointing at his own reflection and flashing it a charming smile.
Remus paused in the doorway. "Ah . . . am I interrupting something?"
James snorted from his bed, and Peter poked his head out of his curtains to explain, "It's a love potion. Whoever brewed it did it wrong, and now Sirius is in love with himself."
"Want to hear the best part?" James grinned, offering Remus a butterbeer. "It doesn't wear off until twenty-four hours. We're stuck with this for an entire day."
"My features are fantastic!" Sirius marveled, angling his face so he could properly appreciate the sharpness of his jaw. "All that inbreeding did something right, clearly."
Remus choked. "Merlin," he said. He crossed the room to his bed. "Does this mean he can't play in the friendly, either?"
James frowned. "What do you mean, either?" he asked.
"Hestia got injured somehow—"
James colored. "Oh, right. That. So she's really injured, then?"
"What happened?" Remus asked, taking another long drink from his butterbeer. "This is good," he added as an afterthought. "Very . . . buttery."
"Sirius thought it would be a good idea to lighten the mood with a prank," James muttered. "It went slightly wrong. We meant to turn Snape, Wilkes, and Rosier's hair into plants, but the execution was a bit rough."
Remus frowned. ". . . And?"
"And it hit Hestia instead," James said. "End of story. Sort of. There was an incident with Filch's cat, which both ended with Hestia beign injured and the cat in an extremely bad mood. I really hope nobody was breaking rules near her tonight, for the students' sake."
Remus coughed, hiding a grin. "Tell him the whole story, James," Peter said eagerly.
". . . it hit McGonagall, too," James confessed. "Her hair turned into, you know, vegetation."
"Tell him what sort of vegetation," Peter urged, looking gleeful.
James actually looked sheepish. ". . . catnip," he admitted, and Remus almost spit out his butterbeer.
"What?" he gasped, the significance hitting him all at once—McGonagall's animagus form, Mrs. Norris, Hestia's injuries. Staring at James in shock, he set his butterbeer down and then began to laugh, almost crying several minutes later when his laughter wouldn't stop. "Oh, that's brilliant."
"Yeah," said James, grinning. "We have detention tomorrow morning. You can join us. Croft and Fletcher—they're seventh years—they offered to stand in for Sirius and Hestia if she couldn't play, so we're covered on the friendly front."
"Your first friendly as Captain," Remus noted.
"We'll win," James said confidently. "The worst thing I can do is be nervous and muck it up."
"Pity the love potion didn't go to James," Peter said solemnly. "He's already in love with himself, so it wouldn't have made a difference."
Remus laughed at that, and even James let out a startled noise of amusement. "Your sense of humor has certainly been refined lately, Wormtail," Sirius noted, tearing himself away from his reflection for the first time. "Are we rubbing off on you?"
Then he grinned. "I've got an excellent sense of humor. And hair. I've got excellent hair—an excellent profile, really. Not to mention . . ."
They ignored him as he extolled his virtues. Peter had acquired an odd look on his face. "Rubbed off on me," he muttered.
He caught Remus looking at him and his expression cleared. Remus looked up at the ceiling in bemusement, collapsing backwards onto his bed and numbly recalling everything that had happened to him since school had started: Fawley (who made it very clear she wasn't doing it for him, but still) and the Greengrass siblings, whom he actually liked, and how exactly had his life gotten to the point where he dared to hope for a future thanks to Slytherins and was friends with Slytherins?
He knew for a fact Regulus Black was a bigot. Fawley, he was pretty sure, had flat out admitted it herself. So why hadn't he spilled Remus's secret? Blackmail?
Remus groaned and turned over, burying his head in his pillow. He was fairly certain that he was starting to pay more attention to Regulus Black than Sirius did.
James flopped backwards onto his bed as well, sprawling across it lazily and catching and releasing his snitch, lapsing into silence as his thoughts turned to the Quidditch friendly and his captaincy. Sirius turned away from his reflection, still stroking his jaw admiringly, already feeling slightly less enthralled with himself than he had an hour ago. Peter finished his butterbeer, looking at his empty bottle balefully as he considered his dueling skills.
And Frank walked into their dormitory to find the Marauders in various states of despair, looking as though they were attending someone's funeral.
"What are you doing?" he asked, although he knew he should stay silent and ignore them.
"We're being contemplative," Peter explained without taking his eyes off his bottle. "This is us contemplating." He sighed.
Frank knit his eyebrows, surveying the four of them one last time before wisely deciding to ignore them. "Right," he muttered, flicking his wand at the lights and finding his way towards his bed in the dark. "Good night."
"Here again," James sighed, glancing around the trophy room. "I'm getting rather fond of this place. Many a prank has been planned—"
"—and paid for—"
"—here," James finished, ignoring Remus. "And we're alone, which is as good as being alone in the dormitory, or in the kitchens—well, maybe not that—" He broke off as a trio of students walked through the door, bickering.
"Clearly, it was you," Demetria Fawley argued, and Remus felt his heart sink at the sight of her, accompanied the usual suspects. There couldn't have been a worse time for Regulus Black to appear in front of them, and it showed on all four of their faces.
Professor McGonagall entered the room, and Remus snapped out of his thoughts as she collected wands. "That wasn't us," Julian Diaval was saying. "We don't know any Muggle songs."
Remus blinked, wondering what exactly was happening. "Mr. Diaval, your mother is Muggleborn," McGonagall said flatly, looking unimpressed, and Remus's eyebrows leaped up as he exchanged a glance with James. "Mr. Black, pass up those wands."
"But I already have—" Regulus began in confusion, and Sirius cut in coldly, "She was talking to me." Regulus's shoulders stiffened very visibly as the three Slytherins turned to face them. McGonagall took the wands, turning a severe eye of the Slytherins before anyone could speak further.
"And you three," she said sternly, "do not leave until your side of this room is spotless or an hour has lapsed, whichever comes first. You will be cleaning. I do not need a repeat of that fiasco with the Muggle music."
Regulus sneered, genuine disgust staining his voice. "I don't know what that's supposed to mean," he drawled, "and I'm quite glad of it."
McGonagall's lips thinned into a straight line, and without another word, she left the room. The moment she was gone, Julian Diaval started laughing, and after a moment Fawley joined him. Remus watched them in confusion. Something about them seemed off.
After a moment, it hit him. "Are they drunk?" he asked James.
"Please be mine," Fawley burst out suddenly, and Diaval took her by the hand.
"Share my life!" Regulus said all of a sudden, and then Diaval suddenly produced a wand from somewhere. "Rafi?" Regulus asked, looking at it, and Diaval grinned.
"Rafi," he agreed. "Demi, I'm going to marry your sister one day."
"She's twelve!" Demi said, scandalized. "Give or take."
"Age is but a number," Julian intoned. He glanced at the Marauders. "You can leave. It'll hardly take five minutes to clean." He winked at Regulus, who actually grinned back at him, the shadows framing his face suddenly less stark against his skin. Remus glanced at the others in astonishment.
Sirius was determinedly looking away, ignoring what was happening. James leaned over to Sirius. "Look, mate, we're in a room with three Slytherins who are probably even drunker than they're currently acting and are offering to let us out of detention. Let's get out of here."
Surprisingly, Sirius rewarded that with a grin, and they turned towards the door in unison, Peter at their heels. Giving Regulus one last look, Remus followed, lost in thought. "You go ahead," he called up to the others suddenly, stopping. "I left something behind."
Without waiting for an answer, he turned back, unsure of what he planned to do. Fawley had made it clear they were to pretend as if nothing had happened, but—
He froze, staring in astonishment as Diaval waved his wand at something he had retrieved from his pocket and it enlarged into a guitar.
Regulus Black was now standing on a table, an empty bottle Remus hadn't noticed before in his hand. As he watched, stunned, he opened his mouth and began to sing, holding the bottle to his mouth like a microphone.
"Wise men say," he sang, giving first Fawley then Diaval looks Remus found frighteningly suggestive. "Only fools rush in." Remus's mouth fell open. Regulus Black was almost swaying on the spot, clearly pissed enough to be serenading his best mates where he might be seen by people he ordinarily wouldn't breathe humbly in front of, though he obviously thought they were alone.
And he had the voice of an actual god. His voice had the smoothness of the young, but it was low and had a quality to it that made it ring in the air long after he stopped singing, as if his vibrato was something tangible.
Remus felt his eyebrows jump up in alarm as Diaval leaped up onto the table and joined in. "But I can't help," they harmonized, both singing to Fawley, "falling in love with you." Julian laughed and jumped down again, spinning Fawley around, but a slight furrow appeared between Regulus's eyebrows and he continued, "Shall I stay?"
Before he could continue, however, Croft and Fletcher stormed into the room, Sirius, James, and Peter skidding to a stop behind them as they approached the Slytherins, who suddenly did not look drunk at all and had somehow gotten rid of the guitar.
"Black," Croft snarled, grabbing hold of the front of Regulus's shirt, "what did you tell McGonagall?"
Regulus shoved him off disdainfully. "The truth," he said archly, "for the most part. Why? Not honorable enough for justice?"
Fletcher made a violent motion. "I'm going to kill you, Black," he spat.
Sirius stood. "Hey, mate, what—"
"We can't play in the friendly!" Croft shouted, and James stood as well.
"What?" he demanded. "Why not?"
"Because of this little git—" Croft lunged at Regulus, and immediately Diaval had a wand pointed at him.
"Watch it," Diaval hissed. He turned his attention to the Marauders as well. "You attack him, you'll have us to deal with too. You think you're heroic? If you weren't the absolute scum it takes to terrorize a first year, you wouldn't be in this situation."
"Can't even fight your own battles, Black?" Fletcher said in disgust.
"Stop," said Remus, catching the look that had passed between the three Slytherins. Regulus was looking slightly feverish, and while a Slytherin in his right mind was dangerous enough, there was no telling what one without his judgment intact would do. "Let it go. We can win anyway."
"You don't even care, do you?" Regulus asked with revulsion. "Just another first year to walk all over, and all you can think about is the match."
"And what do you think you are?" Sirius asked furiously, stepping forward. "Spitting on Muggleborns just because of their blood."
"I think it's time you left," Fawley said coolly, intervening before the situation escalated into a full-blown fight. She gave a pointed glance outside, where they could see McGonagall returning.
Sirius gave her one of the blackest looks Remus had ever seen before leaving without another word, pausing ahead to retrieve their wands from McGonagall before continuing without another glance back. Remus's mind felt like it was filled with cotton—he couldn't align the behavior of the Slytherins, especially Regulus Black, with any consistency.
"Forget something again?" Peter broke into his thoughts, frowning.
Remus shook his head. "No," he muttered, following Peter out of the room. The tension seemed to follow with him, and it remained for the rest of the day, clinging to them like the damp air.
They won the friendly.
