.: Chapter Two: Revelations :.
"I believe pain breeds wolves and joy gives rise to moons. We grow forests in our bones so our memories can't find us. I believe we hide and haunt ourselves." – Pavana
James Potter was on the couch in his den, lazily flipping through a Quidditch magazine, when the alarm for the front gate sounded throughout the room. He looked to his parents, silently trying to determine if they were expecting a visitor. When he was met with quizzical stares from both of them, he groaned into a standing position and ambled to the front door, stretching the kinks out of his back as he went. Without any preamble, he wrenched the front door open and was shocked by who was standing on his doorstep.
Sirius Orion Black, his best friend, stood at the threshold, looking despondent. He was leaning against the doorframe with one arm draped somewhat protectively over his chest, his black hair drenched and hanging limp in front of his face. There was a patchy shadow on his jawline where the beginnings of a beard were attempting to grow. He was clad in expensive dress robes that seemed to be casually unbuttoned, but the vacant look in his eye was off putting. Sirius opened and closed his mouth a few times, stuttering over his breath, and looking as if he wanted to say something but didn't know how.
Situations for why Sirius was mysteriously on his doorstep—at ten at night in the rain, no less—flew through his brain in dizzying speeds. But the only conclusion that seemed even remotely plausible was that, "You left."
Sirius nodded.
"Well come in then. Leave your trunk by the door and head to the living room. I'll get Mum and Dad," he said. James turned to leave, but not before he caught sight of Sirius's flabbergasted expression. He left Sirius there, though, and made his way back down the hall to the room he'd recently vacated, reasoning that, in his own time, Sirius would move through the doorway. James's parents were staring at him expectantly when he re-entered the den, and he guessed that they'd already figured out who was at the door after taking stock of his expression.
"What is it James?" his mother asked, her knitting needles resting in her lap. "What's wrong with Sirius? Is he alright?"
James shrugged his shoulders. "I have no idea. He ran out on his family, though, and he looks like he's been outside in the rain for hours."
"Did you just leave him outside?" his mother asked, getting to her feet and sounding scandalized at the very notion.
"Of course not, Mum," James defended. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. "He's in the front living room, but… you guys should come. Something was off about him."
It wasn't until James was looking at his friend curled up on the floor that he knew how much his words rang true. Sirius's head was buried in-between his knees and his breathing was labored, and James had been in this situation with Padfoot and Wormtail so many times after a full moon with Remus that he knew immediately what was wrong: Sirius was in pain.
"What are you doing on the floor?" he asked, unable to actually come up with any useful questions.
"Your furniture's too nice to stain," Sirius answered, without even lifting his head. "And even with a scorgify, blood stains never really go away."
Blood?
"Where are you bleeding?" his mother asked. Always the practical one, his mother was.
"Chest," Sirius mumbled. His voice was ragged, but he covered it up well. James only knew because he'd spent so much time with Sirius and he'd heard it before—again, mostly after a full moon spent in rendezvous with Remus.
"Well, let me see it; take your robe off and lay on your back on the sofa." His mother smiled, her voice soothing. James saw the instant that Sirius's façade shifted, his vulnerable side rearing its head. He looked defeated.
"I-I can't… um, it hurts to lift my arms to unbutton it, ma'am."
James frowned. He watched his mother walk hesitantly the rest of the way into the room and slowly unbutton his friends dress robes. Sirius let out a pained hiss when the clothing was pushed off his shoulders. His friend was wrapped in white gauze from his chest to his belly button and blood was soaked through a lot of it. When his mother eventually unwrapped him, the blood coated his chest in a red sheen, and James was worried about the darker spots before he realized they were tattoos. That was new, James thought. It wasn't any deeper than other wounds he'd seen on his best mate, but this one looked like it'd been bleeding for a while.
"Holy shit, mate! What the bloody hell did you do?" James breathed.
"My mum's a right nasty bitch, Prongs," Sirius said, lying down on the couch. They stayed silent from then on while his mother worked.
It was a half hour of painful silence before his mother broke the air. "Here, Sirius, drink this. It's a blood-replenishing potion and it'll relieve the light-headedness and the lethargy you feel in your limbs."
"Thank you, ma'am," Sirius said as he drank the dark red liquid and grimaced at the taste. James exchanged a concerned look with his father as Sirius curled his face into the couch.
"No more of that 'ma'am' business, Sirius. You've never bothered with such formalities before, and it makes me feel quite old," his mother chided, but with a loving undertone that she frequently uses with James. Sirius's signature smirk was back and he was leaning up on his elbow. James knew what was going to spew out of Sirius's mouth before he even said it.
"Yes ma'am."
James snorted and his mother messed up Sirius's hair.
"I know that you know your way around by now, but James can show you to the spare rooms and you can pick one," his dad said, speaking for the first time.
"Pick one, Sir?" Sirius asked.
"Well, yeah. You live here now, right? Don't tell us you're going back?" James asked. He was appalled at the very idea.
"Of course I'm bloody well not going back. You think I've got a death wish?" Sirius asked. "I just don't want to intrude on you lot too much. You've got summer plans and-and your going to Paris and your-um-your beach house… in Majorca! I can't—no, I won't intrude on your family time," Sirius finished. "It's not your fault my family's a load of shit."
"You're bloody mad, mate!" James laughed, unable to hold it in any longer. "We were going to take you with us anyway. There was no way I was going to leave you with your fucking–"
"Language," his parents scolded him. James backtracked even though he knew they were doing it only for the illusion of showing they cared for his speaking habits.
"With your fudgenutting demented family for a whole summer. We were going to come and get you tomorrow after breakfast!" James finished. He grinned at his best mate when Sirius looked between him and his parents and started to laugh.
"Did I tell you they were talking about marrying me off to Rosaline Avery?" Sirius chuckled.
"No way?" James smiled, indulging his friend. "You should've taken it mate, she's one fit bird."
"Fit or not, she's aPureblood, Prongs," Sirius said. "And a stuck up one at that." Sirius finished as James followed him out of his living room and towards the stairs.
"You're a Pureblood, Padfoot," James reminded.
"Exactly. I'm either not getting married at all or I'll find someone my parents would vehemently disapprove of—maybe a cute Muggleborn like you–" James scoffed, "–but I'm betting on the former… I'm not really a marriage type of bloke."
"Right now you're not, but that might change, Padfoot."
"No it won't, mate," Sirius chuckled.
"Not even with McKinnon? You've had a crush on her for years." James smirked.
"I do not fancy McKinnon, James," came Sirius's usual response.
"Funny Sirius, I don't really fancy Evans, either."
Sirius scowled.
"Sod off, Prongs. Mind if I find a room tomorrow?" Sirius asked. "I don't fancy gallivanting around your manor to find the best room at the mo'."
The vulnerability in Sirius's voice was present in the small way that he spoke. He knew that Sirius was avoiding the real question that he wanted to ask, but James wasn't going to push him after the night he'd had. James couldn't resist throwing his arm around his friend's shoulders, happy that Sirius was with him now and not somewhere where anything could happen. Sirius was tense under his arm, though, but James pretended not to notice because he knew that it was involuntary.
"Sure thing mate," James said, dropping his arm and watching Sirius deflate. James zeroed in on the new additions that he'd noticed earlier and shook his head, trying to hold in his laugh.
"What?" Sirius asked.
"Nice tattoos, mate." James chuckled.
.:..:.
James woke with a start. He was shivering and cold in the wake of his nightmare, but he wasn't sure why he was feeling this way. He looked briefly around his dark room, but it just sent another chill through his body. He was too tired to deal with anything right now, though, so he rolled over and once more succumbed to a fitful slumber. When he awoke for the second time, sunlight had replaced the moonlight streaming in through the open window and a giant shaggy dog was curled up at his feet.
Sirius.
James's heart clenched for his best mate. He couldn't pretend to understand what Sirius was going through, for he grew up in a loving home with parents who cared for him. He can attempt to distract him though and hopefully, in the end, make him feel better about the entire ordeal—reassure him that he had a place he could call home and people who loved him without the worry of it someday being torn out of his grasp.
The first step was simple: The Marauders.
James carefully extracted himself from the tangle of bed sheets and left Sirius slumbering quietly, his left ear twitching slightly. He made his way to his father's study and rummaged the drawers in search of spare parchment, a quill, and an inkwell. James sunk into his father's chair and began to write.
Wormtail,
Sirius left his family. I don't know any of the details about what went down, but he slept as Padfoot at the foot of my bed last night, which you know isn't a good sign. Find a way to get here, if by Floo or broomstick or a fucking Thestral it doesn't matter, but he needs everyone here even if he won't admit it. But if you absolutely cannot find a way here, write me back and my mum will come and get you by Apparition. (Wouldn't be a problem at all, mate.)
See you soon,
Prongs
James stuffed the letter unceremoniously into an envelope, hastily addressed it, and began to write another.
Moony,
Sirius finally left those bastards for good. He's staying at my house, but I don't think he's doing so well. He slept at the foot of my bed as Padfoot last night, and we both know what that means. I know it's close to your time of the month, and you're probably not at your best, but I know he would want you here and that you'd want to know what was going on. I just wanted to let you know about his situation. Can you foreword Wormtail's letter onto him please? (My mother's owl is out at the moment, so we only have the family one, and I wanted to get these out to you guys before Padfoot woke up.)
Rest up, Moony, and feel better.
Prongs
The scrawl was barely legible, but James's handwriting had been this way for years and it likely always would. The letters were cramped and tilted slightly to the left in his rush to get the words onto the paper. He wasn't worried though, for Remus Lupin has had years of practice trying to decipher James's writing. Without even a second thought he tied both the letters to Kingsman and sent the owl on his way. James stood there and watched the eagle owl fly until it was barely a speck on the horizon.
James stood there long after it was gone.
Thinking.
Contemplating.
Sirius Black only slept in his Animagus form when he craved attention, but didn't want, or didn't know how, to ask for it. This was when he actually physically craved it, and not the fake kind that comes from a single encounter or conversation, but an actual connection—with an arm slung over the shoulders or a solid weight on the back of his neck. It was usually right before breaks in term occurred and he was forced to return to his home. He wouldn't go home at all, but his parents required his presence for at least a couple of days to keep up appearances with Pureblood society. They would attend a few functions as a 'family,' but James knew that Sirius resented the lot of 'em.
Growing up, Sirius was force-fed the Pureblood traditions and treated like a prince because he was the heir to the Black fortune and his parents wouldn't have dreamed of treating him as anything less. He was still fairly young when his parents realized that he wasn't going to be their poster child. James still doesn't know what triggered it, as Sirius refuses to bring it up, but the little love his mother had shown him was suddenly gone. It only got worse after Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor and met people who further challenged what his parents had taught him.
James knows that it would have been tough for a child who grew up in a 'loving' home, even if it was a bigoted one, to one-day step off the train and be treated like a complete outcast. To suddenly have the constant fear that he would do something to anger his parents. It would have been an extremely difficult home environment to grow up in, but James can only empathize so much because he grew up in the most loving home he believed to be physically possible.
Childhood should be carefree, full of smiles and laughter and lightly skinned knees or elbows… not living a nightmare in a place that's supposed to be a sanctuary.
Sirius was a very reserved individual, and he covered up his pain with a mask that had only been perfected with age. When he was going through something, he used wit and sarcasm to work his way through the day, and at night… he curled up into a black ball at the foot of one of his friends' beds and then pretended nothing happened when he awoke the next day.
Or there was the other side of Sirius. The side you never wanted to face: Enraged Sirius.
Sirius would lash out and scream until he had no voice left. Things would be broken and his fists would be bloodied; there would be bits of plaster scattered everywhere, holes in the walls and smoldering curtain hangings. Sirius would be a mess. This outcome appears very rarely though because Sirius was taught to see lashing out as a sign of weakness… and some teachings never really slip away. His parents would have his head if it had ever occurred at his house despite it being monstrously hypocritical of them.
It was no wonder that Sirius was so reserved.
A small motherly hand stirred James from his thoughts and brought him back to the present. It rubbed soothing circles between his shoulder blades, but did little to ease the tension in his back.
"James… are you alright?" Mia Potter asked.
"Yeah, Mum. I'm fine," he replied.
She took a moment to respond, and James could picture the turbulent of emotions flickering across her face. James knew that she had always wanted more kids, but when she couldn't have them, she found them instead in James's friends. Sirius was very close to her heart, and he knew that she felt his pain and wished she could shoulder it herself. James was similar to his mother in that respect. Eventually, she let out a sad and tired breath before asking a question she already knew the answer to.
"Are you worried about Sirius?"
James nodded.
"He seemed fine last night when he came in… I mean apart from the obvious. That was a dangerous wound that he had. I reckon a few more minutes on his own and he would've passed out from blood loss. That wrapping saved him."
James rubbed his temples and the bridge of his nose under his glasses. He let loose a long sigh.
"We should've gotten him out of there a long time ago, Mum," James said.
"They are his family though—a very wealthy Pureblood family at that, James. There's really nothing concrete we would have been able to do about his situation—except maybe make it worse. These things are tricky, honey. I know he's not taking it as well as he's letting on, but he doesn't seem to be struggling too much with the fact that his family isn't going to be a prominent fixture in his life anymore… I wouldn't worry as much as you do, sweetheart, you'll burn yourself out," his mother said.
"But that's how he is, Mum… he puts on this mask to stop people from worrying about him. We need to worry about him, though, or he'll begin to feel that he really doesn't have anyone that does. He'll feel as if he doesn't even exist. If you don't know him though, you don't notice it… his mask that is. Sometimes you still don't notice it—hell I mess up all the time and somehow set him off—but then you wake up, and he's in your bed because he couldn't sleep alone, and…" James sighed, but his mother stayed silent so he started to spill more. "He doesn't let anyone in… ever. When bad shit like this happens to him, he shrinks into his shell and that's it. Bye-bye, Padfoot."
"He'll talk to you when he's ready, James. I think he's still processing what he did… he's in shock. Just try and imagine yourself in his shoes. His family is probably going to disown him and everyone he's related to will eventually turn on him." Mia laughed dryly before continuing. "Maybe he can just get another tattoo and you guys can take him to that pub up in the village."
"Yeah, that was a bit of a surprise, wasn't it? He didn't even owl me when he got 'em done." A few seconds passed before James chuckled. "Anyway, the pub bit sounds like exactly what we're going to do, thanks for the tip."
"Just don't have too many drinks, James," his mother warned, ruffling his hair. "I don't want you lot to go off and get in trouble with the Muggle authorities… again."
"No promises there, Mum," James smiled. He made a mental note to heed her warnings though, not wanting to take advantage of the freedom and leniency that she granted him. "And in our defense, we weren't even drunk last time, I swear it. We were just a little too loud—turns out the Muggles don't like that much."
His mother laughed lightly and then they stood in silence; with Mia Potter's chin resting on her sons shoulder, they watched the sky steadily turn from an array of reds and oranges to a light blue and a smattering of white fluffy clouds. The few birds that decided to make an appearance chirped happily from their perch on the marble fountain on the back patio. There were two brown bunnies scampering across the expansive lawn and darting between bushes in attempts to not stay out in the open for too long. James and his mother just stood, basking in the silence and each other's presence, and trying, for him at least, to put themselves in Sirius's shoes.
"What are you guys looking at?" Sirius asked. He was surprisingly close and caused both Potters to jump. "Sheesh guys." Sirius laughed. "Keep your knickers on."
"Oh shush up, you," his mother chided and once again playfully ruffling Sirius's hair. "Let's go eat with your old man."
.:..:.
James and Sirius were facing each other on the sofa, tossing a worn Quaffle between them, when the fireplace blazed green and Remus Lupin stepped out, casually brushing the ash off the lapels of his faded jacket.
"Moony!" James and Sirius chorused, barely breaking their routine of passing the leather bound ball.
Remus Lupin was a tall and gangly young man with sandy blond hair and a scarred physique. His clothes were scruffy, the cuffs were fraying slightly and the last button on the light brown jacket that he favored was missing. He looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his green eyes and he moved slowly, as if he was in actual physical pain, which, given what day it was, was not altogether a surprise.
"Hey boys, Peter should be along," Remus responded, a slight tilt to his lips.
Sure enough, not two seconds later, the fireplace roared again and Peter Pettigrew stumbled out of the hearth much less gracefully than Remus had. He was picking himself up off the floor when James and Sirius playfully tackled him back onto it, pinching his cheeks and rolling around on the rug.
"Well shit, Prongs, look at this–" Sirius began.
"I know Padfoot–" James continued.
"What are we going to do now…?"
"Well… we have four people, Padfoot. Wait! That's an even number, isn't it?"
"Maybe we should ask Moony, Prongs. He's supposed to be the smart one."
James looked innocently up at Remus as Sirius jumped to his feet. Remus first smirked down at James and then shifted his gaze up to Sirius, amusement dancing behind his pale green eyes.
"It is an even number, I'm proud… your numerical skills are improving," Remus complimented.
"You know what that means, Wormy?" James asked, throwing his arm over Peter's shoulders.
"Well, Wormy, take a gander now, come on," Sirius goaded as he softly brushed more ash off of Remus's chest.
"Hmm… I'm gonna have to take a wild guess and say Quidditch," Peter replied, snatching up the Quaffle from where it had fallen and tossing it to Remus.
"Sir right you are!" Sirius confirmed. After James pulled Peter off the ground, he and Sirius frog-marched him towards the glass French doors—all three of them with grins on their lips. Remus followed slowly in their wake, spinning the Quaffle between his fingers.
They played Quidditch for hours, switching up the pairings every fifteen minutes or when someone deemed the teams unfair and demanded they mix it up. James had watched the anxiety gradually leave Sirius's face, and he knew the others had noticed it as well. It was the fun distraction that Sirius had needed, and they only stopped when his mum called them in for dinner.
James saw Remus descend from the skies immediately and take the opportunity to rest a moment on the ground. James was content to continue to lazily toss the Quaffle and make a few more loops around their make-shift pitch before coming to rest, but when he threw the Quaffle to Sirius, his friend fumbled it and it fell to the ground.
"Well that's one way to know we're done," James yelled, laughing. Sirius didn't blush, but he looked slightly embarrassed and his insult was lost on the wind. James saw him crack a small smile, though. They landed, still laughing softly, next to Remus on the grass.
"You alright, Moons?" Sirius asked. James reckoned that his worried expression mirrored the one Sirius was wearing as he looked at Remus; but Remus simply nodded in reply and said, "Fine," a little too brightly to be considered truth.
Sirius didn't look convinced, and Peter nodded in sympathy, but none of them tried to push their friend on an issue he didn't like to talk about. James stepped closer to his friend and wordlessly slipped Remus's broom from his grip, shouldering it and carrying it with his own. Remus inclined his head in silent thanks and they continued up to the house.
They stowed their brooms in a corner, and Sirius pushed his way past everyone, successfully making it to the front of the group before he bolted. He playfully shoved Peter one more time, giving him an even larger head start as his mates stumbled up to catch Peter before he could hit the floor. Peter laughed and took off after him, but Remus and James shared knowing looks and maintained their slower pace.
"He's got ta tell us what happened last night or he'll just stew in it until he explodes," Remus whispered. "I'm worried for him, James."
"Let's get him drunk, he's more vocal when he's drunk," James suggested.
"I'm serious, James," Remus said.
"No you're not, you're Remus."
James snickered as Remus rolled his eyes.
.:..:.
James watched Sirius down his third shot in the fifteen minutes that they've been in the pub, and James's eyes flitted between his friends before sighing and throwing his second one back. Remus caught his eye and gestured silently to Sirius, giving a slight incline of his head and a look that clearly meant 'talk to him now or he'll get too drunk to comprehend.'
James sighed and leaned forward onto his elbows.
"Mate, you ready to tell us what happened?" James asked.
"Wow, you get right to the point, don't you? No sugar coating coming from you," Sirius scoffed, his voice bitter.
"Come on, Sirius, we just want to know what went down," Remus soothed, placing his hand gently on Sirius's back.
"Yeah, we just want ta' be able to help… you know you'll feel better once you tell us and get it off your chest," prompted Peter.
"Also, I'm deadly curious at heart and I need to know," James moaned.
"James," Remus warned. "Knock it off."
"What? I'm only joking."
Sirius swiveled his stool around, shaking off Remus's hand, and leaned back against the bar. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
"You guys are not aloud to fucking interrupt me, or I won't get this out and you'll be pissed and I'll be pissed and this night of drinking and 'make Sirius feel better about his shitty situation' will go to waste. So just… please let me finish before you ask questions, alright?" Sirius looked purposefully at each of his three friends and waited for their nods of consent before picking up Remus's untouched shot and downing it.
"I'd been going to Donald's pub for years, you know, whenever my parents got in a really nasty mood and I needed out. Don's a squib, and he patched up my wounds and fed me and basically treated me better than my own family ever did. Our house-elf, Milly, always covered for me when the 'rents found out I wasn't in my room… she'd give me a warning and I would run home, sneak back in and come up with some excuse as to where I was in the house and why they couldn't find me.
"But I got too cocky this summer, and I started going out every night. Even worse, is I'd take my time getting home when Milly sent her warnings, finish my cigarette and shit, you know? So when I took a little bit too long one night, my father forced Milly to tell him the truth, and since he's the head of the house, she's got to obey him— especially since he asked her such a specific question… there was no way she could avoid it." Sirius ran one hand through his curly locks and fumbled with the hem of his t-shirt with the other.
"Anyhow, they found out I was sneaking out every night without their knowledge, and my father called a 'family dinner'," Sirius scoffed. "Looking back, I should've known he'd had an ulterior motive. We don't ever spend time together like that. I managed to avoid conversation for a while, though, and not react to all the fucked-up shit they were spewing, but then they started talking about marrying me off and I had to defend myself. I'm not even fucking seventeen years old and they want me to go off and get married. It's like I'm a fucking broodmare! Then he started questioning me about 'the Muggle filth down the street.' I lied at first because honest to Merlin the look in my father's eyes gave me chills—like he was going to kill me on the spot if I said the wrong thing.
"But then I let slip that I'd been leaving since I was twelve, which I already thought they knew, and Mother blew up on Milly, cursed her, questioned her some more, and then killed her; right in front of me. She was just dead. So my mother then cursed me, I stormed out, blew up those ugly fucking trees across the street that I've always hated, and then came here."
James was still processing everything he had just heard, and the four best friends sat in silence for a couple of minutes, the only sounds breaking their calm was the softly playing Muggle rock music and the couple of old men laughing in the corner booth. James knew the story was going to be bad… just not this bad. He gave his best mate a reassuring pat on the back before motioning to the barman and ordering them more drinks—beers this time because his mother's voice floated into his ear and he knew they needed to slow down, even though Muggle liquor was different.
Sirius bowed his head and ran both of his hands through his hair again. James watched as he let out a shuddering breath before forcing tension into his muscles and giving his friends a sheepish, yet determined look.
"This is the only night you wankers get to feel sorry for me, so get your questions out now before I change my mind," Sirius said.
"Why didn't you ever tell us about Donald?" Remus asked immediately.
Sirius seemed to mull around possibilities in his head before, once again, letting out a sigh and answering.
"Because you guys all have someone that cares about you other than your best mates. You don't feel the need to tell everyone that your parents have told you that they're proud of you or that you have a father figure to look up to or any of that sappy shit. You just have one. Well, we all know my father's a bigoted piece of dung… so I found mine elsewhere and I wanted to keep him mine. I know that's confusing, but…" Sirius trailed off.
"That's not confusing, mate. I'm the same way with Henry Ethel," Peter confessed.
"Who?" James and Remus asked in unison. A small chuckle escaped both Peter and Sirius's mouths.
"He's the man who lives down the street from me and my mum," Peter said, twirling his glass. "I mean you all know that my dad's never been around, so Henry was the man who took his place. Just like this Donald bloke did for Padfoot."
"Yeah, you two," Sirius gestured to Remus and James, "just don't get it because you actually have some decent fucking fathers in the first place."
James thought on this for a second and he couldn't control the wave of pity that washed over him. How could he have been unaware that not one, but two of his best mates felt inadequate because the father figures in their lives were either non-existent or brutally fucked-up? Of course having a male-figure to look up to is important, but James had never really thought of the people that didn't have one. He had just been naïve enough to think that not everyone needed a male role model.
How fucked up was that?
James loved his parents dearly, and he would never take their love and advice for granted, but it was a luxury. Not everyone was as lucky as he was. All his thoughts from this morning came rushing back and he felt sort of shitty.
"You'll have to introduce us to these pseudo fathers some day," Remus said. "I'd like to meet them."
The soft look that flitted across Sirius's face was too much, and James had to look away. James stared into his drink for a minute before lifting his glass in the air and saying, "To Milly."
Remus and Peter raised their glasses as well, and all three turned to look expectantly at Sirius. The soft look was gone and he wore a very pained expression on his face. James watched as he bit his bottom lip before slowly raising his glass.
"To Milly," he croaked.
"To Milly," Peter and Remus chorused.
They clinked and drank before they were once more drowning in a silence that was deafening. When Sirius let out yet another sigh, James let out an involuntary chuckle, and soon all four Marauders were laughing, but they knew it wasn't a time to laugh so they all sounded like they were dying as they tried to rein it in and not be insensitive.
"Well," James said, giving up on all pretenses. "Now we're going to get fucking sloshed."
so, i actually dislike this chapter the most out of all the ones I've written? there are some soft wolfstar moments and funny marauder banter that manage to make it bearable for me, but i'm tired of agonizing over it so here you go lol
I do, however, enjoy writing from James's pov the most, so i'm really looking forward to you guys reading those chapters. next up, Lily's pov!
anyway, thanks for reading and leave a review :P
