'Life is like a play: it's not the length but the excellence of the acting that matters' – Seneca
0o0o0o0
He watched them walking into the Great Hall, hand in hand. He'd been worried about them – when they'd hurried past a few minutes before, Eleanor had looked ready to kill someone, and given the unexpected appearance of her mother, he imagined that it would be Minister Buchardt whose life was on the line.
He was glad they'd sorted themselves out – although from what Wormy had been hinting, it had all been even more complicated than he'd thought. He looked forward to giving Moony a good grilling in the morning (well, afternoon). Padfoot too…
He glanced at his other best friend, who was talking to that Dorothy from Ravenclaw; after all the hell they'd gone through trying to figure out how to prevent the melt-down of the century, he'd only been protecting Eleanor as a friend. A slightly over-bearing friend, but a friend, nonetheless.
James sighed, and continued to lean against his pillar.
Sirius could be such a pillock sometimes, for all that he loved him. Dorothy wasn't the type you'd expect to see him chatting up (although, he conceded, Sirius's 'type' was mostly anything that walked past and had roughly two legs)… he thought back to that evening the year before when they'd discussed their 'types', and a smile spread across his handsome face. Sirius had said at the time that he liked Remus's description, and Dorothy certainly fitted it.
The sly git. All this time, they'd got the signs right, and misread the direction. Dorothy Cottingley, eh? He'd have to ask Lily what she was like…
Lily.
He looked over at where she was standing with her parents and her awful sister. She didn't look comfortable. His mum and dad were still talking to Professor Sprout (not really a bad thing, as such, but he was still a little worried about what she might say)…
Perhaps it was time to introduce himself…
0o0o0o0
Her dad was looking around with obvious admiration; she had to hand it to her teachers, they really knew how to put on a show. He looked a little uncomfortable in his muggle suit, surrounded by all the dress robes, but he wasn't the only one. He'd given her a big hug when she'd come out from backstage, and told her that he was proud of her, and he genuinely seemed to be enjoying himself. He was chatting with Professor Flitwick, and hadn't even done a double take when he'd met the diminutive choir master.
She hadn't seen him this happy since she'd started at Hogwarts – since her mother had left he'd been so quiet, and then with her going off to school in another country (well, sort of; it's joined on, but it is another country), another world, even… She worried about him. But today he was ok, and that made her happy.
Peter was chatting with his parents over by the big fireplace, and she didn't want to disturb them. He was beaming, exhilarated as they all were from the play, and Claire felt her heart melting. It was extraordinary, really, the power that boy had over her: able to reduce her to a blithering mess just by smiling, or make her feel like she could conquer the world just by giving her a hug. She shook her head, slightly. He really was one in a million.
He was also beckoning her over. Oh, Merlin, she was going to meet his parents…
She'd seen them, briefly, over the summer, of course, but hadn't been properly introduced. They looked friendly enough… and anyway, she could wreak her revenge later on in the evening by introducing him to her Dad. She could practically hear the 'I'm-not-trying-to-be-overbearing-but' speech running through his mind.
She brushed herself down and smiled brightly.
Well, it was now or never…
0o0o0o0
He'd been happily chatting to Dorothy for a good half hour when he felt the eyes on him. He froze, and Dorothy moved away to get a drink. There were very few people who had a stare like that, and (thankfully) neither his parents nor his cousins were here tonight… They would probably have tried to hex him onstage, assuming they could think of a convenient excuse to diffuse any possible scandal.
No, it had to be Regulus.
He finally spotted him lurking by the doors to the Great Hall; he raised an eyebrow, coldly. Regulus indicated, with a jerk of his head, that he wanted to talk: outside.
Great, he was probably about to be murdered by his little brother and everyone else was too busy to notice…
He drew himself up, ignoring how much this coldness hurt, and followed Regulus out into the Entrance Hall.
"What?" he asked, with no preamble. To his surprise, Regulus looked nervous, almost edgy. He was fiddling with the hems of his sleeves.
"I just wanted to say," said Regulus, in a small voice. "Good show."
Sirius stared at him.
"I know you hate hearing it, but if our parents were less… well…" he glanced up at him. "They would say that you had done us proud."
"They could go to hell," said Sirius, though with much less force than he'd intended. He glanced around, suddenly worried that Bellatrix would spring out from nowhere and hex him.
"Very well then," said Regulus, tersely. "Then I say that I'm proud of you."
Sirius's mouth fell open.
"Thanks," he managed.
The two boys looked at one another – really looked.
"You look well," said Regulus.
"You don't," said Sirius, with real concern. "You don't look like you've slept in weeks."
To his surprise, Regulus laughed, hollowly.
"Mother says that I'm 'glowing with respectful ardour for the cause'," he said.
"Well she always did have a few screws loose," said Sirius, and then winced, expecting his brother to snarl at him, but Regulus nodded – actually nodded.
"She's not the only one," he said, quietly. "I was so proud of myself… getting to be a Death Eater – I thought I was doing the right thing – the best thing possible for the family, for me…" he looked up, miserably. "I was wrong."
Sirius searched for something comforting and big-brotherly to say (that wasn't 'I bloody well told you so').
"Well…"
"I should have listened to you," said Regulus, in an exhausted rush. "But I thought I was being so clever… and now there's no going back."
"No way out?" Sirius asked, frowning.
"No," said Regulus. "I've seen what happens to the people who try…"
Sirius had never seen his brother look younger, more vulnerable; something deep inside him clicked, and suddenly he knew what to do. He put an arm around his shoulders (in a manly way, of course).
"Is there anything I can do?"
Regulus smiled, weakly.
"Only if you can destroy the Dark Lord and all his supporters except me in one fell swoop," he joked, and Sirius smiled. Their faces fell in unison. "Look," said Regulus, quietly. "I know that what's coming to me isn't going to be pleasant, and is likely to be…" he met his brother's eyes for a terrible moment. "… permanent, but I wanted you to know that you were right, and… I'm sorry… for not believing you…"
"It won't come to that," Sirius growled, taking his brother's shoulders, and Regulus looked taken aback by his brothers' ferocity. "I won't let it!"
"I don't think there's much you can do… I don't think there's much anyone can do. So I've made a decision…"
Sirius waited as patiently as he could; was his brother really telling him that death was the only option?
"I'm more or less doomed either way," he said, quietly. "So I want to go out doing the right thing. I'm not very high up in the ranks, but there is information that I can pass to Dumbledore…"
Sirius stared at him, open-mouthed.
"But I don't think he'll trust me. Will you go with me?" he asked, the last sentence coming out all in a rush, as if he didn't really want to have to ask.
"Of course I will, but –"
"There's no other way, Sirius," Regulus sighed, looking horribly old and all-too-young all at the same time.
"I – we just – we shouldn't be having to make plans like this," said Sirius, hotly. "We should be talking about girls and sneaking Firewhiskey from the kitchens!"
"I know," said Regulus. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault," said Sirius. "Ok, you willingly became a Death Eater, but you are fifteen – and don't give me any crap about being old enough to make that kind of decision, I know you are. I also know that when I was fifteen I nearly killed three of my best friends." Regulus looked up, suddenly curious, but Sirius carried on. "And the fact you're taking responsibility for your actions is brilliant, but it's not your fault that the world's gone stupid." He paused, and sighed. "I'd give anything for you not to have to do this," he said, quietly.
"Me too."
Sirius nodded.
"I'll do anything I can to help," he said, firmly. "Friday lunchtime, we'll start a fight so spectacular that we'll have to go to Dumbledore."
Regulus nodded, expression grim.
"Thank you."
"Don't mention it…" he looked at his brother. "You have no idea how proud I am of you," he said.
They regarded one another soberly, for a moment.
"So," said Sirius, with the air of someone who has absolutely no idea what to say. "You got a girlfriend yet?"
Regulus stared at him for a few moments before cracking a rare grin.
"Tosser."
0o0o0o0
She forced everything she was feeling about her mother and 'the gentleman' out of her head as Remus led her towards the dance-floor; this time was just for them.
He whirled her around in a practiced manner, leading Eleanor to once more wonder whether the younger years of students were forced to attend some kind of secret dancing classes. She could feel several pairs of eyes on them, probably including their respective parents and guardians; but they (and their associated high levels of mortification) could wait.
She smiled up at him as they danced; they felt so right like this, their bodies fitting together perfectly as they swayed and waltzed to the music. His eyes were sparkling with laughter and delight as they completed their circuit of the room, revelling in the acceptable proximity the dance afforded.
When it ended, Remus kissed her hand gently and gave her a small bow, making her laugh. They moved out of the dance-floor and retreated to the drinks table.
"Here's to many more," Remus said, happily, and raised his goblet in a toast.
She lifted her own cup to meet it.
"Although hopefully in more comfortable shoes," Eleanor remarked, and he chuckled. "Ow."
"You could always take them off," he said, his arm resting comfortably about her waist.
"I'd lose them," she replied. "Or Sirius and James would make off with them and make them do something awful the next time I have to wear them."
He presented a stung expression, though Eleanor could see the laughter just behind it.
"I'd stop them," he said.
"And then do something less dangerous but equally annoying."
"I'm offended."
"No you aren't," she said, giving him a playful shove. "You're secretly pleased that somebody knows about your nefarious streak. You can't let Sirius and James have all the credit for your evil genius, after all."
Remus appeared to reflect for a moment.
"True," he said. "And it's fairly obvious I'll never be able to hide anything from you."
Eleanor grinned.
"Good."
Abruptly, his face changed.
"What?"
"I don't know," he said slowly. "I…" He frowned, and looked around. "It doesn't matter…"
"You'll tell me later?"
"Yes," he said. "Look, I'm going to nip to the bathroom…"
She watched him walk off, still looking around suspiciously. Boys, she thought, and went to join her guardians at the other side of the room.
"So, mon petit roitelet, you 'ave a beau?" Estelle asked, as soon as she was within earshot; behind her, Severus was grinning evilly with a gleeful look that clearly said: 'Your turn!'
0o0o0o0
He had watched them dancing, Eleanor and the young werewolf, and was still smiling from the image. He'd known that she had a paramour – there were always little tells, little tricks of behaviour to watch out for… Poppy and Violetta had been just the same. He'd tried to work out which one of them it was when he'd met them in the summer, somewhat unsuccessfully – although, once he'd dismissed the possibility of it being Severus he had wondered about that quiet, polite boy with the scars.
Even then he'd reminded him of Antoine, even in they way he moved…
He was happy for them. These young people, always having time to fall in love.
He looked over to where Estelle was teasing her young charge and smiled, warmly. They had been just the same, and had, in his opinion, chosen one another very wisely indeed. Growing old disgracefully with Estelle was excellent fun… he fervently hoped that Eleanor and the young werewolf would have just as much luck, wisdom and courage as they had needed…
And considerably more luck than Violetta had had.
Henrì frowned and glanced at the huge doors at the end of the Hall; she was still yet to appear, as was her awful husband. He hoped that she would be alright… something like this could shake her considerable fortifications…
Fortunately, he reflected, in place of luck she had been gifted an inordinate amount of cunning, which seemed to have set her in good stead thus far…
He ran his hand through his sparse, white hair.
He was getting too old for this. Perhaps, given that their charge was now of age, it was time to consider retirement…
A nice cottage on the south coast, perhaps… closer to Antoine and Monique, and their growing brood of hearty young children… somewhere warmer than the mountains in winter…
It would be sad to leave the chalet, of course, but it hadn't really ever been theirs, as much as they had loved it… perhaps Eleanor would take it over… assuming she didn't stay in Britain now.
He looked over at the young lady, now glowering at Severus, who was looking like he was thoroughly enjoying the conversation. He remembered when she had first arrived at the chalet: a tiny ball of blankets that seemed determined to scream the house down. He'd thought she was beautiful, even then…
His petit chou had grown up so quickly, and so gracefully…
He would miss her dearly.
0o0o0o0
It had, perhaps, been a little mean of him to spring a sudden meeting on Claire, but she was managing it beautifully – and he had no doubt that she'd repay him with an introduction to her father before the evening was out. His mum and dad liked her very much, which, as far as he was concerned, was a Very Good Thing. He watched her chattering with them, somewhere between elated and nervous, and remembered all over again why it was he had fallen for her in the first place.
He couldn't help but smile at her, particularly when she looked so happy; he'd always had a bit of a thing for her, and he was infinitely grateful to Eleanor for talking him into asking her out. He'd never have done it without her gentle prodding, and he was sure now that he would have regretted that for the rest of his life.
Letting his eyes wander about the room, he glanced at each of his friends in turn, all of them talking with parents or dancing happily about the Great Hall. Who would have thought it?
If someone had told him a year ago that he would number Severus Snape among his closest friends, he probably would have laughed so hard he'd be sick, but now…
And two years ago, if someone had said he'd be with Claire, or James would be with Lily, or Remus with, well, anyone... or Sirius with Dorothy Cottingley, for Merlin's sake (he really hadn't seen that one coming, but it did kind of make sense in a Sirius sort of way).
He'd felt himself drifting away from Sirius and James, back then… even Remus and Frank had been a little distant at times, but he realised now that it was just a part of being stuck as a teenager, with so many thoughts and emotions rattling around your brain that you didn't know what to do with any of it…
He looked around again, fondly.
His friends…
His family…
Nothing would ever come between them again, he'd see to that.
0o0o0o0
She watched Sirius come back into the Great Hall, looking strangely closed off, like he was carrying an even heavier burden than before, and shook her head. He was a tricky one, that boy… he seemed determined to take the weight of the world upon his shoulders, even when there were people about to help share the load. She'd have to have a word with Eleanor about him.
She was glad that Eleanor and Remus had finally got together… she'd been watching them since the night the Tower had nearly exploded and they'd held hands by accident… Eleanor had always been nice to her, and from what she could tell about Remus, he was a nice, kind, boy…
She'd remembered the way his face had looked after Eleanor had been attacked back in May and smiled, grimly. There was a man who would never let her down. Their friends, too.
For all their horsing around, the strange family that had solidified around them would always be there when they were needed…
She glanced at her brother, who was stood looking bored by the buffet table, his friends having gone off to get themselves in trouble. He was trying to stay out of it this year, she knew… their mother had given him quite a severe talking-to at the end of the summer… He scuffed his shoes, sulkily.
She glanced around… it wasn't really time yet to begin her campaign of mischief – the current troublemakers were still in residence, after all…
But Corin looked so lonely, over there on his own… and no one was paying attention to the punch bowl, which his friends had been trying to spike with something… She fingered the bubble potion in her pocket, thoughtfully, and came to a decision.
"Corin," she greeted him, walking over.
They wouldn't mind a bit of competition, just for one night…
0o0o0o0
She just couldn't work him out. She'd been trying to understand him for the better part of two years, to no avail… for a boy whose emotions tended to be painted all over his expressive face, he had a knack for keeping parts of himself hidden. She didn't blame him, really… he'd told her about his family, and she couldn't imagine how much it must have hurt to have been so thoroughly cast out.
Perhaps she could help to make it better.
He'd been so angry lately, and she'd heard about his little 'misunderstanding' about his best friends. His loyalty was commendable, of course, but he really needed to think a little more before plunging so completely into situations he didn't fully understand…
She smiled, wryly, at herself. But of course, that was the Ravenclaw in her talking, and he was, after all, one fourth of Gryffindor's 'golden boys'. Convincing him to take a steadying breath before throwing himself forward would take a long time… time that she was, she realised, more than willing to give him.
And then there was the question of her.
She'd had a crush on Sirius for years, and it still made her blush when he was around (though she felt she'd managed to keep a lid on it recently, which had taken some practice), and who really wants to be so obviously enamoured on someone with a well-earned reputation like his? She'd been so sure that he loved Trixie (he went off with her all the time, after all), and had had a horrible few weeks at the start of last year where she'd thought he'd fallen for the new girl, Eleanor, but she'd been wrong.
So she'd decided to just be a friend to him, if he needed her… and he'd started opening up to her at the strangest moments, and about the strangest things.
For example, she knew that he loved peanut butter and hated coffee; that in his old room at home there was shoe-box under his floorboards that he hadn't been able to go back for; that his favourite colour was, against all outward signs, blue; that he hated that squeaky noise balloons made sometimes; that he and his brother had had a race with giant snails when he'd been six, and got snail goop all over their parents' dining room… he hadn't told her what their reaction had been, but from his expression she'd made an educated guess…
That he wanted kids one day.
She wondered why he'd told her these things at the time, but put it down to his generally open nature. It was only recently, having watched him become so guarded in the play, that she'd realised how little he let on to people these days. It bothered her.
Particularly as he seemed determined to tell her everything.
She'd nearly hit him when he'd asked her to Hogsmeade that afternoon. She'd been so sure he was playing a particularly cruel prank on her (and even now, she was a little uncertain), but he'd stayed close to her for most of the night, and even asked to dance with her later on…
It didn't make any sense.
He was good looking (well, gorgeous, actually), boisterous, loud, brave, and generally considered to be one of those kids who would do well whatever, whereas she…
Whereas she was short, dumpy, quiet, miserable and had had to fight for everything she had. It hadn't been easy, coming to Hogwarts as a muggle-born so shy that it took a whole year for her to work up the courage to even look at her class-mates. If Frank Longbottom hadn't silently challenged her to a chess match at the end of the term, and then refused to accept 'no' for an answer, she wouldn't have come back for second year…
It didn't make any sense…
Across the room, Sirius glanced over at her and smiled – that wide, unstoppable grin that made her heart beat faster and louder than she thought it should.
No sense at all… and, she realised, for probably the first time in her life, she didn't mind that.
0o0o0o0
Things were looking up, Frank decided. Alice was looking even more lovely than ever (despite the fact that every time he thought it, he marvelled at its impossibility), Sirius and Remus were friends again and Remus had apparently got his act together and kissed Eleanor. All around the Great Hall people were laughing, smiling, dancing… you could forget, for the moment, that the world was at war.
He watched James and Lily dancing together as if they'd always been together; Peter introducing Claire to his beaming parents; Sirius pulling a startled Dorothy out on to the dance-floor (well, and why not?); Severus and Eleanor poking fun at one another; Remus talking to one of the guests he didn't recognise…
It was difficult to imagine life without them, which came as something of a surprise…
He looked at Alice, chattering animatedly with her parents and his mother. The world that they would be walking out into in a year's time was every day a colder and crueller place, and yet, he could not bring himself to worry. Not here, not now.
Not tonight.
Not with Alice smiling like that.
He fingered the small, square box in the pocket of his dress-robes. He had been carrying it around for weeks now, ever since he'd sneaked away from his mother in Diagon Alley in the summer. He'd been trying to think of an appropriate way of approaching her, an appropriate time.
They were of age now, after all, and less than a year away from 'growing up' and leaving school…
He watched her as she laughed and smiled, knowing with his whole being that his future was with her: by her side, in her arms, wherever she needed him to be. It made him feel humble and powerful and reckless all at the same time, and he smiled as she did (he loved the way she smiled).
Dimly, and although he thought that divination was about as useful as knickers on an avocado, he could see a future together: both of them Aurors, working with the Ministry to keep people safe. A homely cottage somewhere leafy, the smell of Alice's cooking (which, he knew without having sampled it, would be mouth-watering)…
And perhaps, one day, a tiny wizard and witch, chasing one another around the garden.
He grinned at his vision, and left the box in his pocket.
Maybe tomorrow.