"Hogsmeade tonight? I want butterbeer," Sirius asked, interrupting James in the common room, who was busy drawing new sections in the marauder's map. He'd been deep in thought, with parchment papers and quills and bottles of ink strewn all around him. There were previous versions of the map, notes from explorations, schematics, and a list of glitches- things that weren't quite right yet. But it was getting close now. James was proud of it; the map was their masterpiece, dedicated to their rule breaking. He was sure there were secrets that they hadn't found, places they hadn't been, but they knew more than the other students. And they knew more than the caretaker; that was the important thing. What a waste it would be to let the knowledge die with them.
Remus was sitting next to him at the long wooden table, helping Peter to translate runes. James had long since tuned them out.
"Yep," James responded immediately to Sirius without thought, rolling up his parchments to stand. He'd stash it all in the secret compartment in his trunk, and then they'd set off into the night.
"It's the first week of classes! Are you really going to disregard every single school rule in your time as Head boy?" Remus asked, but it was a half-hearted protest and mostly amused. He'd learned over the years just how little James and Sirius listened to sense when they wanted to be up to no good. James and Sirius were standing there now, side by side, both slender and broad shouldered. Sirius was just a shade taller, and his features were more refined and classically handsome than James's, but they shared identical, idiot grins.
"Likely yes," James said, responding to Lupin. "But listen, if I see any students out in Hogsmeade, I will definitely give them a detention," he said with fake solemnity. "I take my role as Head Boy very seriously. It's true for anyone I see out in the hallways, too. Detentions all around." Lupin shook his head at that, smirking despite himself.
"You coming with us?" Sirius asked, but Lupin was shaking his head. "I have to help Peter with this essay."
"Just copy mine. I wrote it during history of magic."
Peter perked up at this only to shrink a moment later under Remus's stern gaze. He sighed and shifted his gaze to look at Sirius. "Padfoot, he'll never learn if you give him the answers all the time. How's he supposed to pass the end of term examinations if he doesn't learn anything at the start of the semester?"
Sirius shrugged but didn't say any more about it, apparently unconcerned. "We'll bring you back a few bottles, if you're still up later," he said over his shoulder, as he and James walked upstairs to their rooms to put on shoes and their cloaks.
James and Sirius were old hands at moving through the castle at night. He couldn't count the number of times they'd sneaked through the empty corridors, avoiding the panes of moonlight reflected on the floor. Usually Remus was a reluctant sidekick by their side; he'd come along with enough cajoling, but James knew he'd be happier tonight helping Peter in the common room. As prefect, he'd always had much more at stake if they were caught than James or Sirius, although that was different now that James was Head Boy. Theoretically, James mused, he could always tell any interested professor that he was just out patrolling the hallways. He wouldn't even have to use the invisibility cloak at all. But the danger had always been what made sneaking around the castle fun. And out of the castle, too.
"It shows everyone in the castle, but they're all labeled as me. We'll have to figure out what that's about," James was saying as they exited the tunnel from Hogwarts into the refreshing September air. Twilight was just setting in, and a bat fluttered above them erratically, picking off insects. There were a few early stars, soon to be drowned out by a waxing moon. The wind whipped through the tree branches, rustling the leaves above them as they walked. The streets were eerily quiet, James thought. This wasn't at all what he had expected. Hogsmeade wasn't a large town, but part of the reason they loved sneaking off to it was that something was always happening. Adults holding hands on their way home from a romantic dinner usually walked along the lane, while witches in brightly colored cloaks exclaimed about the price of beetle wings outside the nearest shop. They were used to Hagrid, tipsy on a gallon of ale, roaring with laughter that was audible even from the street. There were always people around, always lights on in the shop windows. Activity. Bustle. Life. A glimpse of the real world outside of Hogwarts. It was what they always looked forward to.
But James and Sirius had stepped out into a deserted, dark town. The street lamps were still glowing, but all the doors were shut, and the windows were fastened where they used to hang open. Worst, the pub was that way too. Quiet and deserted. No goblins, no boisterous witches. James felt the same feeling as at the train station: a balloon with its air slowly leaking out. And there was that sense of dread that he felt but couldn't articulate, back again. The families had been scared at the station. In the village, they were nonexistent.
"Bloody empty, isn't it," Sirius said calmly, and James could tell that he'd been hoping for a different scene as well. He played it off as a joke, but James could see the questioning look in Sirius's gray eyes: where was everybody and why was it like this. At least they were on the same page.
Tables that were usually crowded with townsfolk were empty. The old wood of the tables looked clean and polished, and the floors were newly scrubbed. It looked like idle hands were filling time where they used to fill drinks.
They were greeted by the young waitress who had a very pretty face, brown curls, and a smattering of freckles across her nose. She'd originally been their draw to the pub, as they'd been smitten with her around their 6th year. But they'd learned that she was vapid. Kind, but dull. Pretty, but not very interesting conversation. The real fun came from interacting with the buxom woman with frizzled gray hair behind the bar named Celina. She even had a large mole on her chin, looking every bit the witch from Muggle fairy tales. But she could fill the whole room with her energy and her wit.
But tonight, she was different too. She looked happy to see them as they sat at the bar, but she was wary. She hadn't expected to see them, and it seemed almost like she didn't want to see them. James tried to puzzle it out.
"I'll get these," Sirius said, sliding onto one of the stools at the bar. It seemed foolish to sit anywhere else in the nearly empty establishment. A wizened old barfly sat at the far end of the bar. There were two wizards packed together in a booth. But that was it.
"What's the occasion?" James asked. He was usually the one picking up the tab, not being overly concerned with money. His family was wealthy and he'd never paid much attention to the cost of things. Especially now that Sirius was on his own, James tried to pay for as much as Sirius would let him, so this was unusual.
"You've got detention, and I don't," Sirius said, by way of apologizing for earlier in the week. They both ordered a firewhiskey and a butterbeer, and the old woman slid the full drinks down the bar to land in front of them.
Sirius suddenly snickered, the laughter coming from nowhere while James looked at him quizzically. "Never seen anyone that bald," he said in explanation, still laughing. "It was brilliant." He was really getting going now, throwing his whole head back as he laughed.
And James couldn't help laughing a little too, though he looked pained at the end. It had been funny, but it certainly hadn't made Lily think any better of him. Technically, it could have been worse, but not by much.
"Cheer up, mate," Sirius said, clapping him on the shoulder after getting a glimpse of his expression. "She's warming up to you."
James snorted into his drink. "If this is warming, I'd hate to know what before was."
"Nah," Sirius said, drawing out the word. "I was right there too, and just as much to blame, and you're the only one she bothered with. Shows she thinks more highly of you than me, anyway."
"That's not comforting, Padfoot."
But maybe Sirius was right. She'd even smiled at him after he'd apologized. Maybe there was hope for him yet. He'd settle for her not hating him.
Celina returned from the backroom, moving to stand in front of them. "You lot. School back in session already?"
"And Prongs here has already been beaten up by a girl. The Head Girl, no less." As Sirius told the story, Celina burst out laughing, nearly in tears by the end of it. The night didn't seem so oppressive anymore. The pub filled with laughter, if not with people.
Celina was a good bartender. She asked all the right questions and was a good listener. Sirius gushed about his new motorcycle to her and the modifications he'd made. How angry it had made his family.
But even with the laughter, the night didn't feel quite right. With no one around, it made sense to end the night early. He remembered to order a few extra butterbeers, as they'd promised. He and Sirius stood from the stools to leave.
Celina pulled out the bottles slowly, the mirth gone from her face. "You know that I love you boys, the stinkin' troublemakers that you are," she said fondly. "But things are different now. People are different. Come see me on the weekends with all your classmates, but don't come here at night anymore. You should be safe in the castle. You shouldn't be out here. You're just kids. I don't know what I would do if something happened. It's not safe." Her hands were cold on top of James's, and her eyes stared deeply into his. She was heartfelt almost to the point of tears, and James was surprised by that. She wasn't joking and she wasn't exaggerating. So this was changed now too, ruined by the political climate and the death eaters, just like everything else. "Go on, now," she said with a gentle pat on their hands, and they made their way back to the castle and their common room, James deep in thought again.
It was not a good day, James thought, scowling. He rolled out of bed and began to get ready for his detention, not bothering to brush his unruly hair. He pulled on an old pair of jeans and a flannel, knowing that whatever they did would probably be messy. He'd had more detentions that he could count. He thought he should be excited at the thought of seeing Lily, but his mood was too dark with the thoughts of last night and Celina's warning playing over in his mind.
Lily and James arrived outside McGonagall's office at nearly the same time. Lily had obviously come from the dining hall as she was still finishing a piece of toast with jam. McGonagall nodded curtly to both of them, and then walked them down the hall to a classroom filled with small cages and bright, beady eyes.
"Rats for the 5th years to transfigure," she explained. "Clean the cages and then put in new clean shavings for them. No magic. And if I have to come back in here because you're fighting..." She didn't finish, but her look said that she was not in the mood to be crossed today. James was feeling the same way. Tired, moody, and out of sorts. The sky had been a sullen gray with heavy clouds when he woke up. The threat of rain hung over the day. A dampness in the air seemed to get into his very bones, and it did nothing to help his mood. He should have gotten breakfast too, but he'd woken up too late. Now he'd be starving by lunch. If they were even done by then.
McGonagall turned on her heel and left the room, and James and Lily looked at each other in resignation. He sighed, opening the lid to the first cage, picking up the tiny warm body and placing it into a temporary holding pen before beginning to clean it out. He didn't mind handling the rats, but their poop was another story. The smell made his lip curl in disgust, and he prayed that he would soon be habituated to the smell. Looking around the room, there seemed to be endless number of cages. How many rats did they really need? he thought, thinking of his own transfiguration class. The chore would take hours, he knew, even with the two of them working together.
He didn't know why he was in such a foul mood. Or, actually he did.
Today was his father's birthday. Had been his father's birthday, he corrected. He hadn't realized how pissed off it would make him: his dead father's birthday and the whole country going to shit around him just as he was about to enter the real world. The glimpse of Hogsmeade had made him wonder what was really happening out there. They were sheltered from it at school, and he'd led a sheltered life overall. But it had to be terrible. He'd heard about the deaths. Muggle-borns were being murdered all the time; it had been almost daily as they neared the start of the term.
He picked up a handful of clean shavings for the cage, tossing them in. These, at least, smelled nice and like cedar. The pub had been so empty and then Celina almost begged them to not go out at night. She'd had tears in her eyes. He dropped another handful of shavings, this time with more force. Dumbledore's speech at the welcome feast had been new this year and pointed: he'd said that love and kindness would bind them together and unite them. It was the only thing.
But they weren't united, he thought, tossing another handful. Snape and those other pieces of shit were participating in the injustices, training to be a part of this madness. He turned to a new cage, a new rat, and another handful of clean shavings, this one angrily tossed. Good people were being hurt and were living in fear. He tossed another handful, this one even angrier. And his father was dead. Gone.
Though maybe it was a good thing. Maybe his family would have been in more danger if he were alive. His father had had the money and the status: someone like that coming out publicly against what was happening... It would not have taken long for there to be retribution. And it would have been retribution against their entire family, James knew. There would have been no mercy. James pictured fighting off the death eaters and felt a fierce anger and sense of protectiveness. He knew he father wouldn't have stood for any of: none of the murders or the shadow government. So maybe it was a good thing that he was dead, he thought bitterly. His mother was safer that way.
He couldn't help feeling the impotence of it all. How limited he was. What had he been doing with his time? Nothing worthwhile, that was for sure. He'd been selfish and self-centered his whole life. His parents had indulged him, he knew. James didn't think of himself as a bad person, but he certainly hadn't been kind, not in the way Dumbledore spoke of at dinner.
And what was he doing about it now? Nothing. Cleaning out rat poop all morning. Not a good day.
"We're just going to go the whole time in silence then?" Lily asked, drawing him out from his thoughts. She held a rat calmly in her hands while she looked him over, her expression thoughtful. Her long hair was in a loose braid, the strands in the front falling out to frame her face. She had on jeans as well and a warm sweater. She gave the rather fat rat a stroke on the head before placing him into a clean cage. "No quidditch stories?" she asked, loftily. "No new pranks on the Slytherins? Nothing about how brilliant you were at transfiguration when we were 5th years working with these rats?" She looked him over critically. "Honestly, I think this is the first time we've ever been alone together. Not going to ask me out?"
That at least caught his attention. He looked at her, eyebrows raised in interest. "Would you say yes?"
"Course not," she said with a cheeky grin. "But that's not the point."
She paused again, moving a lid on a closed cage and looking serious. "Is everything okay? I've just never seen you quiet before. It's a little worrying."
If there was one person who was kind, it was Lily, he thought. Even in the way that she moved the rats so carefully from one location to the next, giving each one a little pat or stroke. It wasn't fair for one person to be so many good things all at once. So clever. So kind. So beautiful.
"Today is my father's birthday," he finally said. He didn't know how to convey the depth of what he'd been thinking, or that so many things felt wrong and his father's death and absence was just one of them. How could he talk about the dread, and the fear, and the confusion in a way that made sense to anyone but him. But watching her register the information of his father's birthday, he thought maybe she understood anyway, without him having to say anything more. He remembered that her mother had died too, sometime during their third year at Hogwarts. He could see a look of sad understanding in her expression now.
"I'm so sorry, James. I'd heard last year... Anyway, it's never a very good day, is it. Especially with detention."
"Nah, it's probably good. Otherwise I'd just be moping around the room." He played it off as best he could, but she had made him feel a little better. And somehow his tongue was loosened. He found himself telling her about his father, how strong of a person he was and how good. That his father had told Sirius's mother to her face how wrong she was about her son. That he hadn't been afraid of doing the hard things in life, and that James hadn't appreciated that until after he was gone. That James wanted to be that way too, but didn't know how.
"Do you still feel sad about your mum?" he asked her, looking over her face and those green eyes.
Lily thought about that for a moment. "Yes. Not all the time. It's not as sharp. I spend a lot of time thinking about the good times now. It's hard not to miss her, but in a way I'm almost glad. I don't know how I could explain what's been happening, or what's waiting for me out there because I'm her daughter, or how many people are dying. I hope it's not as bad as I think, but it seems so bleak lately. It seems like a good thing that she doesn't have to witness any of it or be scared for me. She was supportive of this world, but she didn't understand it. I don't know how I could explain all this."
He found it strange to hear his own thoughts coming from her mouth. Lily had been less forthcoming than James had, had spoken more haltingly, but it was still more than he'd ever heard her say about her family before. It was maybe the most he'd heard her say ever. And they'd been having the same kind of thoughts. She'd noticed the dread in the air as well.
James wanted to comfort her. In a way, it was nice to know he wasn't the only one thinking and feeling those things, but he didn't like to see her mouth turn down into a frown. He wanted to pat her shoulder or even give her a hug. However, he knew that she would take any attempt of his to comfort her the wrong way, so he settled for words instead.
"It's the old wizards holding us back. Old prejudices. They're scum. It's not going to last; it can't last. We'll get out of Hogwarts and we'll change things. We'll stand up for the Muggle-borns." He was earnest, meaning every single word of it. "And you have to know that your mother would be so proud of you if she could see you. You're ten times as good as any death-eater."
Her eyes had gone surprisingly teary, and James was shocked. He'd always thought of her as totally invincible. She'd seemed so fearless. He searched for something clever to say to make her smile again and to lighten the dark mood.
"Plus you have surprisingly hard fists. No death eater stands a chance."
She did laugh at that, heartily, her face happy again. And then she looked him over, calculating.
"I remember what it was like for me, when it happened. If you ever do need someone to talk to about your dad, or anything..."
"Evans, are you asking me out?" he interrupted. He was pleased to see the slightest blush creep across her cheeks.
"No, I was just-"
"Thank you," he said, cutting across her sputtering. He tried to be as sincere as possible. He'd been joking before, but he really did appreciate her kindness and her offer to listen. "It means a lot to me that you'd even offer. All joking aside."
She nodded, still a bit on the wrong foot after his comment, but they went back to the work, close to being done now. What little sun there was in the sky was making its way across the windows of the classroom. His stomach was grumbling for lunch and he hoped there'd be something good today: a stew to warm him up from the inside. Lily looked at him every now and again, seeming to rearrange some things in her mind. What exactly she was thinking, James couldn't guess. But she wasn't mad at him, and that was almost a first. James noticed her glances, but pretended he didn't, feeling secretly pleased. Maybe it wasn't such a bad day, after all.
