Chapter Thirty-One: There Are Lines

The couple of days before the next full moon seem to crawl by until Sirius is just about ready to burst. To be fair, he almost makes it the whole month without doing anything rash—almost. But when he and Snape find themselves alone in a corridor on Sirius's way back from dropping Moony off at the Hospital Wing, and he pictures the way Snape's been looking at Moony the last few months, and Snape comments that it's a beautiful full moon out tonight before he asks Sirius where Moony's gone off to—

Maybe he does it because he hasn't had sex in a month. Sirius hadn't thought he could manage it—he'd thought for sure that this Mandrake month would be just like the last two, with him and Marlene doing everything but kiss—but somehow, he's pulled it off. He's celibate. He's not sleeping with Marlene. He and Marlene—they're not even friends, and going without her feels like he's missing a limb.

Maybe he does it because he misses Andromeda. Maybe he does it because he misses Emmeline. Maybe he does it because he misses the way Moony used to look at him—like he respected him.

Maybe he does it because seeing Snivellus cozying up to Sirius's brother day in and day out has been making him see red. Regulus will talk to the slimy little git who's got Dark Magic coming out of his eyeballs, but he has a problem with Sirius? Sirius doesn't understand why Regulus can't see that people who like the Dark Arts are bad. Then again, maybe he does understand—because this is exactly what their whole family is like—and just doesn't want to admit to himself that he could have seen this coming.

Maybe he does it because Moony is the best person Sirius knows, and the fact that somebody like Snivellus would turn Moony's affliction into some kind of sick joke, something so dehumanized and disgusting—

"You want to know where Rem goes when he says he's sick? You really want to know?"

Snape's mouth is hanging open. He clearly wasn't expecting Sirius to actually let him in on any secrets tonight. "I…"

"There's a knot at the base of the Whomping Willow. Wait until ten o'clock tonight, then go out there and poke it with a stick. The tree will freeze, and you'll be able to get into a tunnel. Just follow the tunnel, Snivellus—it'll lead you straight to what you want to see."

xx

"I'm going to be a mutant."

"You're not going to be a mutant."

"Yes, I am."

"No, you're not, Pett. James and I won't allow that to happen, okay?"

"Easy for you to say," Peter mutters. "You and James are brilliant at Transfiguration, and you're both getting Os and Es in Potions. I suck at Potions, and I'm only doing okay in Transfiguration because the three of you coach me through it."

"Give yourself some credit," says Sirius carefully. "You don't suck at Potions. You're passing, aren't you? You pass your exams every year."

"Yeah, barely. If I want to become a proper Animagus instead of a half-human mutant, I need to do a lot better than just satisfactory work."

"Well, it's not like the spells or the potion is complicated, is it?" Sirius tries to console him. "It's not like you have to—to brew it super precisely or anything, and the spell is just tapping your heart and chanting. As long as we don't miss sunrise or sunset on any day, we'll all be fine."

It's just the two of them in the dormitory at the moment: Moony is probably in the Shrieking Shack by now, while James, even though Quidditch practice is long over for the night, is still out on his broomstick on the pitch, blowing off steam. Over a year later, it still amazes Sirius that he and his school-owned broomstick made it onto the Gryffindor team with the likes of James, who owns the latest Nimbus. If anyone ought to be getting in extra practice, it's Sirius—but James copes with his stress by flying, and with their third Mandrake month almost over, he's probably got a lot of tension to release.

Peter is as good as a brother to Sirius, but the two of them may never have been quite as close as Sirius has gotten to James or to Moony. He's got the most in common with James, and with the possible exception of Regulus, Sirius has never wanted anybody's approval as desperately as he wants James's. Moony, on the other hand, is the best person Sirius knows, and even when things between them get weird and strained, there's an intensity underlying their every interaction that somehow reminds Sirius of the way he feels around Marlene—the way he used to feel around Emmeline. Peter, on the other hand—Sirius would die for him, but they don't really talk, not like Sirius talks to Moony or James.

So it catches Sirius off guard when Peter says, "I just… can we be honest here for a second?"

Sirius raises his eyebrows. "Sure."

"I… does Moony even need me to do this?"

"What do you…?" Sirius starts, but he has a horrible feeling that he knows exactly what Peter is talking about.

"It's just… he's never needed me like he needs you or even James. He'll already have the two of you to stay with him; does he really need a third? Me and him, we're…"

"Hey." Sirius gets up and crosses to Peter's bed so he can put his hands squarely on his shoulders. "You are an essential part of the Marauders, okay? I dunno what we'd do if we didn't have you to take care of us and keep us all grounded. Trust me: Moony wants you to be there on full moons just as much as he wants me or James."

Peter doesn't look convinced. "But—"

"But nothing. Do you need me to list off all the reasons we love you? You're so smart, Pete—I don't mean book smart; I mean you pick up on things; you figured out that Moony is a werewolf, and you barely even knew anything about werewolves. You're—the nurturer, okay? You make us feel like we matter. You make us feel like somebody gives a shit."

"But you already know you all give a shit about each other. You don't need me to—"

"Yes," says Sirius firmly, "we do. This—this thing is going to change all our lives, okay? I don't want to go through that change without you. I don't want to know what it's like to be an Animagus if I don't go through it with you. That's the truth."

And he's not lying. He and Peter may not have had the heavy talks Sirius has had with James or Moony, but—the thought of living without Peter still makes Sirius feel like somebody's ripped his heart clean out of his chest.

"I… you really mean that?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I really do."

Peter is blushing. "Come here," Sirius mutters, and he moves his hands from Peter's shoulders around his back and clutches him into an embrace. "I'm not going to let you become a mutant. I promise you that. One more hour, and these leaves will be out of our mouths, and we'll be one step closer to helping our friend survive full moons, yeah?"

"Yeah," says Peter again. "One more hour."

Now that it's been a minute and he's gotten some distance from Snape, Sirius is starting to doubt himself—to wonder what the hell possessed him to send Snape after Moony when Moony's the wolf. If something happens to Snape—

He'll be fine, Sirius tells himself. Snape knows more Dark Magic than anybody in this school: he can take care of himself. It's a laugh, that's all, and it'll put Snape in his proper place—teach him to be snide about werewolves to the Marauders' faces ever again.

James stomps back into the dormitory, freshly showered but still looking pissed, about half an hour later. "How long until the Portkey goes off?"

"You're just in time. We've only got about ten minutes."

Peter passes James his phial; James disgustedly tugs his leaf out of his mouth and sticks it in, along with one of his hairs. "Thank god. I was starting to think it was going to fuse to my cheek. Has either of you got anything to eat or drink?"

"Here," says Peter, reaching under the bed and pulling out an aluminum tin.

"You're awfully quiet tonight, Sirius," James comments as he takes off the lid and pulls out a biscuit. "You look like you've seen a ghost or something."

"Please. I go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ghosts are old hat around here."

"What's on your mind, then?"

Well, there's no use hiding it—Sirius has put the gears in motion now, and James and Peter are going to find out what he's done soon anyway. "Just picturing the look on Snivellus's face when we see him tomorrow."

"Oh, yeah? You didn't pull a prank without telling me, did you?"

"I might've." He allows a smile to play at his lips.

"You tosser! What did you do to him?"

"Told him how to get under the Willow," says Sirius casually.

James freezes midway through chewing a bite of biscuit. The tin of them drops from his hands onto the mattress with a dull clank. "You… you sent him after Moony?!"

And then James is looking at him like he's never done before—like Sirius sickens him. Like Sirius is twisted and evil and broken. Hot shame coils in Sirius's stomach, but he stands his ground. "He'll be fine, James. The man knows how to defend himself, and—"

"Moony is a werewolf! He doesn't have control over himself like this! If he bites Snape—if he kills him—there are lines, Sirius. You tell me that I cross lines, and then you go and you get Snape attacked by a werewolf?!"

"He knows what he's getting himself into. He's been dropping hints all month. He knows that—"

"Whatever he thinks he knows, he's not prepared for—for that. God, Sirius, what the fuck is wrong with you? How could you do this to Moony?"

"To—?"

"To Moony!" James erupts. "You're taking advantage of him—turning him into a murderer or, worse, making him become the very thing that made him into a werewolf in the first place—making him do that to somebody else. How could you use him like that? How dare you? How bloody dare you?"

"James—"

He shoves his phial back at Peter and marches toward the door.

"Where are you going? The Portkey—"

"I'm going after Snape. I'm cleaning up your mess. You'll have to collect the dew without me."

"But—"

"Don't test me, Sirius. You better hope to god I get there in time—that Snape is okay."

The door slams behind him on his way out. Sirius and Peter look at each other.

"You shouldn't have done that, Sirius. James is right."

"Right, because you're such good buddies with Snape."

"I think… I think you shouldn't come to the cave tonight. I should just go on my own."

Sirius gapes at him. "Right," he says again. "Tell me, who is it talking: your morals or your blind obsession with James?"

He regrets saying it as soon as the words come out of his mouth. Peter looks totally wounded, and Sirius—Sirius is an arse, dragging this right on the heels of promising Peter that he's integral to the group.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I—"

"Just… don't come with me. I'll get the dew."

"Peter—"

"Give me your phial." Wordlessly, Sirius hands it over. Peter pockets it. "Get out of my bed, please," he says quietly.

The second Sirius backs away, Peter shuts the curtains on him, and Sirius—

—Why did Sirius have to go and send Snape to the Shrieking Shack? Why did he double down to James, and how could he take out his frustration on Peter like that?

But like with most of the questions Sirius asks himself, he already knows the answer. He's a Black through and through, and Blacks don't give a shit about consequences that hurt other people.

And Sirius feels—

—Basically like he's throwing up inside his head. The thoughts and guilt and desperation keep flooding past the dam, and there's not a thing Sirius can do to curb them, and even if there were, it's not like he would deserve to feel better—not when everything is entirely his fault. All he wanted was to feel accepted, to be with the people who complete him—for James to want him as much as he wants James—and now—

If Moony doesn't turn him away in the morning, when he finds out what Sirius dragged him into, Sirius will be shocked. He's blown it. The more seconds pass, the graver the situation seems—the more Sirius convinces himself that Snape's going to get himself bitten or killed down there, and for all he knows, so is James. If James dies—if James becomes a werewolf like Moony—

He's got to tell somebody, he suddenly realizes. James is fifteen years old: he's a good wizard, maybe even a great one, but he's no match for Moony on a full moon. Even two against one—werewolf always trumps wizards.

He's got to go now, and yet Sirius is standing frozen in place, his vision going blurry around the edges. The second he leaves this dormitory, it's real. The second he turns himself in—

But it's already real. It's already real, and there's nothing Sirius can do to change it.

He fishes the Map out of James's bag and scans it for anyone he can talk to. Dumbledore's in his office—Sirius doesn't know the password to get in—but McGonagall is in her quarters with Vector, and she'll hear if Sirius knocks on the door.

There will be time for him to hate himself later. Right now, he has to go.

xx

When he told them the whole awful story, they leapt into action: McGonagall gathered her wand and practically flew out of her quarters after instructing Vector to escort Sirius to Dumbledore's office. "Professor McGonagall—"

"The headmaster will deal with you," she said curtly, and then she was gone.

So here he is now, sitting across from Dumbledore and praying that James is going to make it out of there safely. "I must impress upon you the gravity of what you've done," says Dumbledore in the most disappointed voice Sirius has ever heard from him, and he wants to just—sink through the floor.

"I understand if you need to—to report me to the Ministry," Sirius says quietly. "Just—please don't tell my parents why, if you do. If they find out that Remus is a werewolf—what they could do to him—his livelihood—"

Something Sirius doesn't understand flashes in Dumbledore's eyes. "If Mister Snape and Mister Potter are all right, it will be Mister Snape's decision whether to press charges. If he does not… ordinarily, for a situation this severe, I would enforce a suspension, but doing so would alert others—your parents included—to the nature of Mister Lupin's situation, and I am sure you wish as much as I do to protect his privacy."

"I'll do detention," says Sirius immediately. "Every night. You can dock as many points as you'd like. And I'll—"

Dumbledore raises a hand, and Sirius falls silent. "We may discuss punishment when we know more—whether the victims survived and whether they'll be involving the Ministry."

The victims. It sounds so clinical laid out like that—and yet—

"I didn't mean for anybody to get hurt," Sirius says weakly. It sounds feeble, even to him.

It's a long-arse twenty minutes before the door swings open again. McGonagall enters, followed closely by—

Sirius feels so relieved he could cry.

James looks at him like Sirius is worth rubbish to him, and Sirius deserves it.