August 1977
"Morning." James strolled into the kitchen to join his parents at the table, leaving a trail of muddy footprints from his trainers after a long run in the rain.
"Morning, love," Euphemia said, frowning at the state of her floors. "How can you stand to run in this weather? And look at the mess…" She sighed and began erasing the footprints with her wand.
Fleamont set down his newspaper and slid an envelope across the table to James. "Your Hogwarts list came." He handed his son a plate of toast and pretended not to notice the water dripping from his drenched hair and onto the floor.
"Thanks," James said, reaching for a piece of toast and taking a bite before tearing open the envelope. He gave the supply list a cursory glance, then started to shove it back into the envelope when he noticed something else inside. Frowning, he turned the envelope over, and a small silver badge landed in his outstretched palm. His eyes studied the two words etched into the metal, reading them over and over to ensure he was not simply making a mistake. Head Boy. He mouthed the words, still gaping down at the badge in his hand, before his mother jarred him from his thoughts.
"What've you got there?" she asked, nodding at the badge in his hand.
His fingers closed over the badge and slipped it into his pocket as he looked up at her and arranged his face into what he hoped was a neutral expression.
"New Quidditch Captain badge," he explained. "There was an unfortunate incident with my last one - Sirius's fault." He pushed back from his chair and stood up, stuffing his envelope into his pocket and reaching for another piece of toast. "Speaking of Sirius, I'm going to go ask him when he wants to meet up in Diagon Alley to do our shopping." He set off for his bedroom, his mind whirling too much to notice the new set of wet footprints he tracked across the floor or the sigh of exasperation Euphemia heaved at his retreating back.
"Sirius Black," he said into the two-way mirror after digging it out of the pile of clutter on his bedside table. He sat down on his bed to wait, forgetting all about his damp clothes and the half-eaten piece of toast clutched in his hand.
"Hi, Prongs," Sirius said after a moment, stifling a yawn. The bedroom behind him was dark, and from the angle of the mirror he appeared to be sprawled out in bed. "Why so early?"
"It's not even early, it's nearly nine," he said. "Listen, never mind the time. You need to get your arse over here. I have something to show you."
Sirius rubbed his eyes and groaned. "What, now? But that requires moving. And getting dressed. Just hold it up to the mirror and show me now."
James shook his head, the Head Boy badge weighing down his pocket. "No, you've got to come here now. It's fucking wild. You're not going to believe it. But, I dunno, it's got to be a mistake." He ran a hand through his hair as his mind began to present him with various explanations.
"What's a mistake?" Sirius sighed, noting the expression on James's face. "Never mind, I'll be there in a few minutes." He set the mirror down and James could hear the sound of him climbing out of bed and opening drawers. "There better be breakfast!" he called.
James grinned and set down his mirror, then pulled the badge out of his pocket and turned it over in his hand while he waited. The idea of anyone in their right mind making him Head Boy was ridiculous, and yet… He pinned the badge to the front of his t-shirt and stood to examine the result in the mirror, then tore it off and returned to his bed.
Around fifteen minutes passed before James heard footsteps and looked up to see Sirius standing in the doorway of his room, munching a piece of bacon and carrying a mug of tea.
"Right, what's the big emergency?" he asked, sinking into the armchair by James's bed and sloshing a bit of tea onto the floor. "Mum almost fell out of her chair when she saw me here this early. I told her Evans must've sent you some sort of exciting letter and you begged me to come over." He raised his eyebrows. "I assume that's what this is about? This better be good." He crammed the rest of the bacon into his mouth. "Ooh, did she send you some scandalous photographs?"
James rolled his eyes. "If she did, what makes you think I'd show them to you?"
Sirius set down his tea and crossed his arms. "I thought you were my best mate!" he said, sounding affronted. "If Macdonald sent me nude photos, you'd be the first one I'd show them to."
"Well, I don't have any photos to show you, so it's a moot point." James rose and sat down on the sofa across from Sirius, then placed the Head Boy badge on the coffee table between them. "But look what came with my Hogwarts list."
Sirius picked up the badge and examined it, a bemused smile creeping over his face. "They've sent you Moony's badge by mistake," he said, chuckling and returning the badge to the table.
"They must've, right?" James reached for the badge and traced the raised letters, frowning. "I mean, there's no way Dumbledore would actually make me Head Boy, right? No bloody way."
Sirius considered this for a moment, then burst into laughter. "Imagine if he did, though. Do you realize how fucking excellent that would be?"
"Imagine how Evans would react." James's eyes widened. "Bloody hell, if this is for real, Evans and I would be Head Boy and Girl together. We'd have to do patrols together, and whatever else the Head Boy and Head Girl have to do - they have a bloody office!" He allowed his mind to conjure the image of Lily walking beside him as they patrolled the corridors, her face breaking into a smile at something he said, her body inclining towards him as they paused in some deserted corner of the castle… He shook his head, letting his eyes linger on the badge for another moment before dropping it onto the coffee table. "But that doesn't matter, because this is obviously a mistake." He opened a drawer in the front of the coffee table and pulled out parchment, quill, and ink.
"What are you doing?" Sirius asked, stretching out his legs and resting his feet on the table.
"I'm writing to Dumbledore to let him know he sent me the badge by mistake," James explained. He dipped his quill into the ink and nudged Sirius's feet aside before beginning to write. After a minute, he folded up the parchment and placed it in an envelope along with the Head Boy badge, then sent it off with his owl. As he watched her fly away into the gloomy morning he felt an odd sense of loss, which seemed silly as the badge had never really been his to begin with. Sighing, he returned to the fantasy of patrolling the corridors with Lily for another fleeting moment before crossing the room to lean against the back of Sirius's chair.
"Well, sorry to make you get out of bed and come over when it was obviously a mistake, but now that you're here, fancy a bit of Quidditch?"
Sirius looked out the window at the steady drizzle and raised his eyebrows. "Doesn't look like ideal Quidditch weather to me."
"Oh, come on, any weather is ideal Quidditch weather." James urged, then held up a hand as an idea struck him. "What if we get inappropriately day drunk while we play? Drinking always improves bad weather."
Sirius grinned and stood. "Yeah, all right. But we're stopping in the kitchen for more bacon first."
They spent the next several hours out on the Quidditch pitch, running various Quidditch plays and pausing after each goal to take a sip of firewhisky. The drizzle drenched their clothes and the game steadily deteriorated as the alcohol began to affect their reflexes. By the time they had emptied the flask they were both leaning against each other laughing, brooms and Quaffle lying abandoned in the grass.
"Come on," Sirius said, attempting to get himself under control. "Let's go get some lunch and we can refill."
"I can't believe you two are out there playing on a day like today," Euphemia said, strolling into the kitchen to find James and Sirius devouring a plate of sandwiches. "Honestly, would it kill you boys to take your shoes off at the door?"
Sirius and James followed her gaze to the double trail of muddy footprints from the door to the table and burst into laughter.
"Are you sure that was us?" James asked, pushing back his hair and spattering Sirius with raindrops.
Sirius took a large bite of sandwich and shook his head. "Doesn't sound like something we'd do," he added, his mouth full of sandwich.
"Of course I'm sure, you're both soaked and dripping onto the floor," she muttered, cleaning up the mess and taking the chair across from them, her expression cross.
"Mum, guess what?" James asked, his voice far too loud for how close they were sitting. "It's so funny, you'll never guess."
Sirius grinned, then leaned too far back in his chair and had to grab onto James to save himself from toppling over backwards.
"Are you two drunk?" Euphemia demanded.
James widened his eyes and glanced over at Sirius, the picture of innocence. "Mum! It's not even noon. What sort of self-respecting person gets drunk before lunch time?"
Sirius snorted with laughter. "I wouldn't exactly describe us as self-respecting people."
James put his finger to his lips. "Shh. Don't let Mum hear you say that."
"I dunno how she wouldn't, seeing as you're bloody shouting."
"Anyway," James continued, ignoring Sirius and reaching for the Quaffle they had brought in from the Quidditch pitch, "could a drunk person do this?" He tossed the Quaffle high into the air, then shut his eyes and held out a hand to catch it. Unfortunately he had misjudged his aim, so the Quaffle landed on top of the plate of sandwiches instead of dropping into his outstretched hand.
Sirius howled with laughter while Euphemia shook her head, not quite concealing the smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. "You're both ridiculous," she said, sighing and cleaning up the spilled sandwiches. "Absolutely ridiculous."
"We'll take that as a compliment," James said, pushing back his chair and heading for the door, closely followed by Sirius.
"Take off your shoes!" she shouted at their retreating backs, but they were both laughing too hard to hear her.
After lunch they decided they had both exhausted their Quidditch abilities for the day and instead retreated to James's bedroom to play Exploding Snap, where they played exactly one round before falling into a drunken doze on the sofa. When they awoke hours later with stiff necks and cards stuck to their foreheads they ate a quick dinner then returned to James's room and promptly started drinking again. The last thing James remembered was rolling on the floor laughing after Sirius had attempted a somersault and knocked over a plate of biscuits. When he woke up early the next morning it took him a moment to figure out the source of the tapping noise that had roused him.
"I'm definitely still drunk," he muttered, crossing the room to let in his owl and stumbling over a discarded Quaffle. He steadied himself on his dresser before opening the window, then gave his owl a quick pat on the head before removing the letter tied to her leg. Yawning, he returned to the sofa and sat down to open the envelope and began to read.
Dear Mr. Potter,
I hope you've enjoyed your summer. Thank you very much for bringing this "error" to my attention so promptly. However, I assure you that you did not receive the badge by mistake. After careful consideration, a committee of faculty members, myself included, selected you for this year's Head Boy. I admit that the decision was a bit unusual, but I have full confidence that you will rise to the occasion and carry out your responsibilities wonderfully (and if you need encouragement, I trust your female counterpart will be able to exert a positive influence on you). Enclosed is your Head Boy badge which I am returning to you, as you will need it to wear on the Hogwarts Express in a few short weeks.
Kind regards,
Professor Dumbledore
James sat there staring at the letter in his hand for a full minute before he strode over to his bed to shake Sirius awake.
"Bloody hell, Prongs, what time is it?" Sirius threw his arm over his face to block out the early morning sunlight. "Second day in a row you've woken me up early. It's becoming a pattern and I'm not a fucking fan."
"Oh, shut up and read this," James said, thrusting the letter in Sirius's face.
"Hang on." Sirius looked up from the letter after scanning its contents. "Am I still drunk, or are you actually Head Boy?"
James grinned. "Both, apparently." He ran a hand through his hair and sat down on the bed. "What the hell was he thinking?"
"That you'll, how did he put it, 'rise to the occasion,' I suppose," Sirius said, setting down the letter and shaking his head in astonishment. "This is fucking wild."
"I know." James opened his palm and studied the Head Boy badge, still unable to believe it was actually his. "You know what this means, right?"
Sirius nodded. "You and Evans are Head Boy and Girl together." He tapped his fingers against the duvet cover and frowned. "Although, if Dumbledore's gone off his rocker and picked you, maybe it won't be Evans after all. Maybe it'll be, I dunno, what's-her-name in Hufflepuff, the one who got a T on her Transfiguration O.W.L., or who knows, maybe he chose Mrs. Norris, or the Giant Squid?"
"Merlin, Padfoot, I know I'm not exactly standard Head Boy material, but to say choosing me is on the same level as picking the bloody Giant Squid is a bit mean. Besides, it'll be Evans. It's got to be." He turned the badge over in his hand as he imagined how she would react when she saw it pinned to his robes.
"Are you going to write to her and tell her about it right away?" Sirius asked, rolling over and resting his head in his hand.
James shook his head. "I think I'm going to wait and tell her in person. I want to see the look on her face."
"She's not going to believe it. I still don't believe it," Sirius said, eying the badge and shaking his head. "You know, it is pretty brilliant, you two being paired up like this. It's almost like Dumbledore knew."
James did not reply, but let his mind return to his daydream from yesterday. He pictured Lily's hand clasped in his as they strolled down deserted corridors and peeked into empty classrooms together, imagined the two of them huddled together drawing up patrol schedules, heard her laughter as he told off a couple for snogging in a broom cupboard, only to pull her in and use the space for the exact same purpose. But of course he was getting ahead of himself, and he sighed, pushing these thoughts aside to examine later when he was alone.
"Want to go down and tell Mum and Dad?" Sirius asked. "Try to do it when they've just taken a sip of something. I bet you can get them to fucking spit tea across the table."
The clock on her bedside table read 9:47 when Lily's eyes fluttered open. She lay there for a minute, savoring the peaceful silence of the empty house, then threw back the covers and made her way to the kitchen. Duncan stood to greet her, wagging his tail and rubbing his head against her leg, and she took a moment to pet him before pouring herself a bowl of cereal and sitting down at the table. A dismal rain fell outside the window, and she decided today was an excellent day to spend curled up with a blanket and a book. She was deciding between the Transfiguration textbook and her half-finished novel when she heard a tapping at the window and looked up to see an unfamiliar owl.
Hurrying over to let it in, she cast around for something to give it for a treat and settled on a handful of dry cereal. The owl gobbled it up while she removed the letter, then fluttered away into the gloomy Cokeworth morning. Lily returned to her seat to open the letter, trying to ignore the little pang of disappointment she had experienced when she realized the owl was not James's barn owl, but one from the school. As she tore open the letter and glanced at the list of supplies, she wondered if it would be too bold to suggest meeting up with James so they could do their shopping together. She had begun to compose a letter in her mind when she noticed something small and heavy at the bottom of the envelope. Smiling to herself, she turned it over and watched a silver badge clatter onto the table.
Head Girl. What do you know, James Potter was right. She could picture that stupid grin breaking over his face and his hazel eyes filling with pride when he saw that badge pinned to the front of her robes, could almost hear him saying, "Of course it's you, Evans. Nobody else even comes close." For a moment she considered writing him a letter this very second to share the news, and she got as far as rising and walking halfway to her room for parchment, quill, and ink before she paused, shook her head, and returned to the kitchen. Writing him a letter would not have the same effect as telling him in person. She wanted to see and hear the reaction she had imagined, and for that she would have to wait until she saw him on the Hogwarts Express. Somehow she found herself more excited to share her news with James than with her parents, but she shoved this thought aside, not wanting to examine it too closely. Instead, she went to the phone and dialed Mary's number, desperate to tell someone.
"Hi!" Mary said once she had established it was Lily calling and not one of her mother's dodgy boyfriends. "Did you get your list from Hogwarts? I was thinking of going shopping on Thursday if you want to meet up."
Lily took the phone back to her seat at the kitchen table and propped it against her ear. "Yeah, that'd be great." She paused, holding the badge in her hand and savoring its weight as well as the weight of her news. "Er, something else came along with the list."
"No! You're fucking Head Girl?" There was a thump and a muttered "Shit" as Mary apparently dropped the phone and scrambled to pick it back up. "Sorry! I'm just so bloody excited. This will surprise absolutely no one, I hope you realize. What did your parents say? Did your mum cry?"
Lily grinned and set the badge down on the table, tracing the raised letters with one finger as she imagined how her parents would react. "I haven't told them yet. They're both at work."
Mary sighed. "Well, they're going to lose their minds, and I want to hear all about it when they do." She gave a sharp intake of breath. "What about Potter? Have you told him yet?"
"No, I thought I might wait and tell him in person." Lily saw the pride lighting up James's face once again, then indulged her daydream a bit and allowed herself to imagine him pulling her into a tight embrace. She could almost feel her badge poking against his chest as she breathed in the scent of his soap and felt the familiar leap of excited energy she experienced whenever they were this close.
"He'll be so proud," Mary said, shattering Lily's fantasy and jerking her back to the present. "It's going to be bloody adorable."
"Yeah, he is pretty bloody adorable," Lily agreed, then realized what she'd said and began backtracking. "I mean, his reaction, obviously. His reaction will be adorable."
"Right," Mary said, and although Lily could not see her face, she felt sure her friend wore a smug, knowing smile. "Anyway, who do you think will be Head Boy?"
"I really hope it's Remus," Lily said, glad for the change of subject. "Fawcett in Ravenclaw would be all right, I suppose, but if it's Bertram Aubrey I think I'll just hand in my badge - imagine being forced to hear him talk about himself for hours on end."
As the two girls discussed the likelihood of each Head Boy candidate, Lily's mind continued to drift back to that stupid grin and untidy hair until she forced herself to refocus on the sound of Mary's voice. She glanced over at the calendar stuck to the refrigerator, counting the days until September 1st and musing that she had never been this eager to return to school.
Remus lay on his bed, gazing at the calendar tacked up on his wall. Most of the days had been crossed off with large black Xs, and up at the top he had scrawled a countdown that now read 3 days until Hogwarts. His eyes lingered on yesterday's date, enclosed in a neat but ominous circle. It had not been crossed out like the rest of the days, because yesterday he was not in the right state of mind to even know the date, never mind be able to cross days off of a calendar. With visible effort he rolled over and reached for a quill from the desk beside his bed, grimacing as the movement jarred his bruised and battered body, then turned back to the calendar and crossed off the 28th. After a moment, he crossed off the 29th as well, deciding the day was close enough to over to make no difference.
He sighed, glad to put today behind him. The day following a transformation always seemed to drag on forever, an endless stretch of pain-soaked sleep and staring at the ceiling and the dull, nagging self-loathing that broke through his carefully-constructed defenses and made him wonder if this hell he went through once a month was even bloody worth it. When these thoughts infected his vulnerable mind his friends were usually there, laughing and joking and intent on cheering him up, but in the summer he was on his own. Lately James, Sirius, and Peter had taken to sending him letters and care packages to lift his spirits, and while it was not the same as having them there, the simple gesture was all that was getting him through.
The letter from Sirius rested on his desk on top of the enormous chocolate bar and the novel Peter had sent. Remus reached out and pulled the letter towards him with slow, careful movements so he would not reopen the deep cut on his arm, then propped it up next to his pillow and began to re-read his friend's familiar handwriting.
Dear Moony,
I was going to send you another Howler of me serenading you like we did earlier this summer (I thought "Dancing Queen" would be a good choice), but I wasn't sure if it would make you laugh or want to murder me, so I decided on a normal letter. It's almost midnight, and I was going to go to bed, but I always have trouble falling asleep when it's full moon, so I smoked a joint Macdonald gave me. I thought it might help me fall asleep, but I don't think it was a wise decision because I'm not the sleepy sort of high, more the think deep thoughts sort of high, like how you get when you want to talk about what a boggart would turn into in front of another boggart or whatever. So anyway, that's my disclaimer, and I'm sorry if this letter makes absolutely no fucking sense or goes on for ages about something completely useless.
I'm glad we're going back to school in a couple of days because I really like being able to annoy you at the drop of a hat. Speaking of hats, I think we need to get drunk and get a photo of you wearing my cowboy hat, because I think it would look great with that cardigan, you know the one I always make fun of that has the fucking elbow patches. I know you said that hat is stupid but I think you'll feel differently once you put it on. Actually, you know what would be great? You should fucking wear that hat and that cardigan and sing "Dancing Queen" on top of that table in the common room. I have the image in my head now and it absolutely has to happen at some point this year, so start practicing now.
I hope some of that nonsense I've just written made you smile a bit, but I'm at that point where I can't tell if I'm making any sense at all, so in case you're just rolling your eyes and muttering about what a prat I am, here are some random things that might cheer you up, in no particular order except this is the order they've popped into my head:
Okay remember that time in Herbology when Pete dropped his little clipper things, the name is escaping me but you know what I mean, right, those little things we use to cut leaves off plants? Fuck it's such a normal word, why can't I think of it? And bloody hell, now I can't remember where I was going with that story, so overall that was a waste of ink.
What about the ride on my motorbike we took this summer? Wasn't that brilliant, once you stopped worrying that you were about to die? I wish I could bring it to Hogwarts because it would be amazing to fly over the castle and the lake and everything. Next summer I'll teach you to drive it if you like. When I let Prongs have a go he didn't listen to my instructions at all and gave up after he fell over once, but I have a feeling you'd pay attention and give it a real shot if I could convince you to actually do it.
ALSO shh this is a secret but I stole that photo of young James in the bathtub and I'm going to threaten to show Evans if he annoys me. Or maybe I'll hide it in one of his books so when he opens it up in class he'll just see his little baby arse staring at him. Merlin, I hope you're laughing, because I'm about to fall out of my chair laughing alone in my flat in the middle of the night, and if this isn't even amusing to you then I just feel a bit silly.
And something else, Macdonald swore me to secrecy so I haven't even told Prongs but apparently Evans had a dream about him. As in, a sexy dream. Evans wouldn't give many details, so of course I used my imagination and decided it was the most filthy, wild, obscene shag fest anyone's ever dreamed up. I wasn't supposed to say anything, but now that I've told you I feel like I can't just not tell James. He bloody needs this. I also don't trust myself not to wink at Evans on the train and say something like, "Had any interesting dreams lately?" Macdonald really should've known better than to tell me something like that and expect me to keep quiet.
Bloody hell, I just looked at the clock and realized I've been working on this letter for ages, but I feel like it's barely even coherent. I'll end it here, but if none of my stupid ramblings worked and you're still in that Moony funk, put on David Bowie and listen to Rock N Roll Suicide. Play it five times in a row if you have to. It's sort of my "you're okay, get your shit together" song and it usually helps if I'm feeling down, except don't tell anyone that, because I prefer it if people think my only coping mechanisms are drinking, driving fast, and punching things.
See you soon!
Love your idiotic and extremely high friend,
Padfoot
Remus returned the letter to his desk, unable to wipe the smile off his face as he broke off a small piece of the chocolate bar and popped it into his mouth. As the chocolate dissolved on his tongue he picked up the novel and opened to the first page where a brief note had been stuck inside the book jacket.
Hi Moony,
You know I never know what to write in letters, so I sent you chocolate and a book instead. The chocolate is self-explanatory, and the book was one Evans said she enjoyed, so I thought you might like it, too. Sorry we won't be there to cheer you up in person, but we'll be back at school in a few days so next time you'll be able to watch me beat Padfoot at chess, which I know is one of your favorite post-transformation pastimes.
Feel better soon,
Wormtail
PS My mum got me this jumper that is absolutely horrible but she's insisting I bring it to school with me. I hate it and look like an absolute prat in it but you'd probably love it, so it's yours if you like.
Grinning, Remus returned the note to the book and propped himself up on his pillow to read. He managed a chapter before he found his mind wandering without absorbing any of the story, so he closed the book and reached instead for the last letter on his desk.
My Dearest Remus Mortimer Lupin, AKA Moony, AKA the sexiest bloke in a cardigan ever to grace the halls of Hogwarts,
I know you must miss our targeted campaigns to annoy you, and for some reason I was reminded of that time we told you the dumbest jokes we could think of. As a special treat I have compiled all the horrendous jokes Evans and I have included in our letters this summer. Please enjoy, and sorry in advance because some of them really are quite awful, but I hope you find at least a couple of them amusing.
Remus scanned the letter until his eyes landed on his favorite joke (What's green and has wheels? Grass - I lied about the wheels!). In spite of the injuries, and the exhaustion, and the unbearable loneliness, he found himself laughing, and he set down the letter again, absurdly grateful for these small acts of kindness from his friends that had managed to bring him back from utter, crushing despair. For a moment he considered putting on that David Bowie song Sirius had recommended, but he found he didn't need it. Stifling a yawn, he turned off the light and pulled the blanket up to his chin, letting his eyes drift shut as he let the wave of sleepiness pull him under. He fell asleep with a smile on his lips, still achy and covered in scratches and bonetired, but feeling far less alone than he had when he had woken up.
"Should we try to get the homework out of the way first?" Mary plopped down on Sirius's sofa and eyed the pile of books on the coffee table with distaste. "That would be the responsible thing to do."
Sirius sat down next to her, resting his back against the arm of the sofa and draping his legs over her lap. "That's true," he said, grinning. "But we both know we are not exactly responsible people."
She attempted to push his legs aside, but he grabbed her hands and tugged her towards him instead.
"Black," she protested. "We agreed we'd finish the summer homework. We have to finish it today, seeing as we go back to school tomorrow." She tried to pull away, but he tightened his arms around her, and she gave in and nestled in next to him, already considering the homework a lost cause.
"We'll do it on the train," he murmured, kissing her neck and driving away any last lingering academic thoughts. "We can't do this on the train."
"That's not true. We have before," she protested, hardly aware of what she was saying, and as he covered her mouth with his she surrendered to the heat of his body against hers and the press of his fingers against her skin.
Later they lay curled against each other as the late afternoon sun peeked in through the curtains and illuminated the abandoned pile of books.
"What do you think it's going to be like this year?" she asked, reaching for the Chudley Cannons blanket and tucking it around them.
He blew a lock of her hair out of his face and adjusted his arm to make them both more comfortable. "What do you mean? I expect it'll be a lot like last year, except our idiot friends will finally stop dancing around each other and just shag already."
She smiled and traced the scar on his chest as she thought. "Well, I guess I just mean, what's going to happen with us, once they start dating?"
He raised his eyebrows at her. "Macdonald, are you trying to have The Relationship Talk with me?" His face was drawn into a strange expression that she couldn't quite read. His eyes seemed almost hopeful, but she tried to convince herself it was just a trick of the light.
"Fuck no!" She laughed, focusing on his bare torso instead of on his face, because she couldn't bear to see that hopeful glint extinguished from his eyes. "I'm just thinking, you know, once they're together, what are we going to say if they, I dunno, expect us to go to Madame Puddifoot's with them for double dates all the time?"
Sirius snorted with laughter and glanced around in search of his cigarettes. "We tell them no offense but we'd rather die than be forced to sit in that smelly little tea shop and watch other people snog, and then we fuck off to go get drunk at The Three Broomsticks instead."
The package of cigarettes poked out of Sirius's trousers, discarded in a heap in front of the sofa, and Mary leaned over and retrieved them, pulling out one for each of them before handing Sirius his wand. "You're right. I dunno why I was worried. Nothing has to change." She looked around at the flat where she had spent so much of her summer and felt a sudden surge of affection for the worn wood floors, the cluttered coffee table, the sounds of Diagon Alley that filtered in through the windows. "I'm going to miss it here."
Sirius lit his cigarette, then reached over and lit Mary's for her. "I will too, a bit. But it'll be here waiting for us. You know what I'm going to miss even more?"
She took a drag on her cigarette and exhaled, turning her head to blow the smoke away from Sirius. "Your motorbike," she said, grinning at the look of absolute adoration that crossed his face at its mention.
"I wish I could bring it with me," he said, taking a drag on his cigarette with a wistful expression on his face.
"It'll be here waiting for you," she reminded him.
He sighed. "I suppose." She watched him smoke in silence, noticing the languid motion as he put the cigarette to his lips, the smoky haze that surrounded them and made him look even more appealing somehow. "This was probably the best summer I've ever had," he said after a minute.
She nodded. "Me too." They fell silent again, smoking and thinking back over the countless drunken nights and lazy afternoons and long, reckless rides on the motorbike they had experienced together over the past couple of months. After they both stubbed out their cigarettes into an ashtray and Mary tucked her arms back underneath the blanket, she let her eyes drift shut, and she was halfway to a light doze when Sirius's voice brought her back.
"Hey Macdonald? This is going to sound crazy," he began, and she felt her heart begin to pound as her mind raced to fill in the rest of his sentence. Could this be the moment she had been simultaneously longing for and dreading since his drunken confession a month ago? She waited, holding her breath and holding her body rigid in his grasp.
"Do you want to go with me to get a tattoo?" he finished, and she laughed in spite of
herself, feeling an odd mixture of relief and disappointment, because it was such a Sirius Black thing to suggest.
"All right," she said, throwing back the blanket and reaching for her clothes. "What are you going to get?"
He grinned. "I'll give you three guesses."
"Peter, love, come here and help me with this!"
The sound of his mother's voice reached Peter's ears as he placed the last few items in his trunk and shut the lid. He looked around his room, checking for anything he had forgotten to pack. The little room was always kept neat at his mother's insistence, but now it held a definite air of emptiness since most of his belongings were folded and packed carefully in his trunk. After one more glance around, his eyes fell on a framed photograph of the four Marauders with their arms around each other, laughing with their heads thrown back. The memory of that day was so vivid in his mind although it had been years ago, and he smiled to himself as he remembered the trip to Hogsmeade and James's silly comment that had made them all laugh just as Rosmerta had taken the picture. He picked up the photograph and held it in his hand for a moment, savoring the memory, before he placed it in the trunk between stacks of clothing and left the room to join his mother in the kitchen.
Mingled cooking aromas filled the little kitchen as Peter entered the room to find his mother adding ingredients to a bowl while she watched a pot on the stove. She wore a flowered apron and there was a small smudge of flour on her cheek.
"Oh, good, there you are," she said, handing him a measuring cup. "Can you finish mixing up the ingredients for these biscuits while I finish dinner?" She frowned over at the stove, where a pot was bubbling and emitting thick steam. "I don't trust that gravy…"
"It's okay, Mum, I'll finish up." Peter reached up to brush the flower from her cheek, then began adding flour and sugar to the bowl while he used his wand to stir the untrustworthy gravy before it bubbled over. "You go sit down and relax."
"Are you sure?" She peered down at the gravy, then drew her head back when the steam fogged up her glasses.
"I'm sure. It's the least I can do, since I'm leaving for school tomorrow and won't be able to help out for a while." He opened a cupboard and took out the salt, measuring some into the bowl and then adding a pinch to the gravy for good measure.
She sighed and sat down at the kitchen table, a glum expression clouding her plump face. "I
wish you didn't have to go back so soon. The summer went so fast!" She shook her head and began levitating plates, silverware, and napkins onto the table. "The house is so quiet after you leave. It's terribly lonely."
Peter felt a pang of guilt as he mixed the wet and dry ingredients together, careful not to splash any out onto the counter. "Don't be silly, Mum, I'll be home for Christmas before you know it."
"I know, I know." Smiling with pride, she watched him use magic to stir the gravy while he formed the biscuits and dropped them onto a baking sheet. "You should bring those for your friends to eat on the train tomorrow. I'll never eat them all myself."
Peter scraped the last of the dough from the bowl, then slid the tray into the oven. "Yeah, all right." He licked a bit of cookie dough from his finger and grinned. "I've never known Sirius to say no to food." He turned his attention to the stove, giving the gravy another stir before levitating a pot of potatoes to the sink to drain, then pouring them back into the pot to mash them. "Hey, have you noticed we haven't been getting The Daily Prophet lately?" he asked as he added butter and milk to the potatoes. "Did we forget to pay them or something?"
"Oh, no, I've cancelled our subscription," she replied.
He frowned and looked over at her, the potato masher forgotten in his hand. "Why?"
She adjusted her glasses and flashed him a bright grin that did not quite conceal the worry lines that formed between her brows. "Because it's all bad news and I'm sick and tired of it. Why would I waste my money on something that only puts me in a foul mood?"
A glob of mashed potato splattered onto the floor as Peter continued to frown at his mother. "But if you don't get the Prophet, how are you going to keep up with what's going on?" he persisted.
"I'm not, that's the point." She held up a hand when she saw the look of skepticism cross his face. "Oh, don't look at me like that, Peter. If I don't want to spoil my day reading the news obsessively, that's my prerogative. I'm sure you'll write and let me know if anything really important happens."
"But-" he began, but she shook her head and cut him off.
"No buts. Now, pull that roast out of the oven, would you? It smells done."
Her no-nonsense tone and the stubborn set of her face left no room for argument, so he sighed and followed her instructions, trying to put thoughts of the news out of his head so they could enjoy their last nice meal together until the Christmas holidays. As he levitated their meal onto the table and sat down across from his mother, he fixed a smile on his face and changed the subject.
"Did I tell you James made Head Boy? He was so surprised that he wrote to Dumbledore and sent the badge back - he was convinced there'd been a mistake!"