Title: A Sleep Like Unto Death (1/2)
Author: Kicks (kick_flaw@hotmail.com)
Archive: fanfiction.net under Kick Flaw, my site:
http://www.angelfire.com/grrl/kick_flaw/ (eventually)
Pairing(s): Remus/Sirius, James/Lily, Peter/OC
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: angst, lots of Marauder-centric parts
Feedback: Please.
Disclaimer: Is there any cross-dressing in Harry Potter? No? Then I still
don't own it.
Summary: When Sirius messes up a potion mortally, can Remus find it in
himself to admit his feelings and save the boy he loves?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


A Sleep Like Unto Death

James finished his weekly clean-up with an exasperated sigh. Clean-up, of
course, meant stuffing anything out of place under his bed, but that
ever-so-trying task wasn't the cause of his fraying nerves. The cause was
cross-legged on the floor at the far end of the room, and was fully ignoring
the mess in his cordoned area as well as their impending Double Potions
class. "Sirius, you haven't even dressed yet!" James huffed.

Sirius, utterly absorbed in his newest experiment, failed to respond. Vials
clicked, liquids combined, solids dissolved and formed, that was all that
mattered to his distracted best friend. James tugged his bed curtains shut
and went to work on Sirius' space.

"You know, Double Potions starts in ten minutes. If you stop now you *might*
be able to get there on time. I'm not going to wait for you this time. Last
time you did this we were twenty minutes late! And may I remind you that
that incident was just last week? Professor Thatcher will have your head!
It's not like your chemicals won't be here when we get back. Sirius!"

Sirius blandly clicked a timer on and hooked a thin tube between two of his
strange nozzles. All the years James had spent as the muggle-born boy's best
friend and he still didn't grasp the 'fine art' called Chemistry. He did
like it though, when it wasn't threatening his schedule.

"Relax, Prongs." said Sirius, a bit late. "Thatcher adores me. She didn't
give us a detention last week, remember?"

"Only because you did that smile thing to her."

"Then I'll do 'that smile thing' again. You're missing the point. I can't
leave this to boil unsupervised. Do you have any idea what that could do to
my beaker?" he shuddered.

"Merlin help me. Double. Potions. Hello? Double Potions!" James emphasized
his very good point by throwing a quill at Sirius' head. The boy had a
buggered priority system.

"Hey." protested said boy as he half-heartedly rubbed where the sharp end of
the writing instrument had hit, then promptly forgot about it. "Quit it. I'm
trying to concentrate." Another clink, bubble, whoosh accompanied his
nonsensical mumblings. Something about hydrochloric whatsit and catalystic
reactions, whatever. James viciously kicked various muggle clothing
underneath his friend's bed and tugged those curtains closed too, not
bothering to tidy Sirius' pile of blankets. Four or five at least tangled up
in what resembled a snowball fort or a bird's nest. If anyone needed extra
blankets it was Remus, with his below-average body temperature. Remus, who
was probably half-way to class. A glance at the mechanism that magically
clocked each Marauder, designed by Sirius himself in a fit of genius,
affirmed that Remus and Peter were indeed safely on their way.

"Padfoot!" James snapped.

"Go on, already! I won't be long."

"Fine." he shouldered his bag and headed for the hall. "Remember to change.
And try brushing your hair? You're welcome."

"What?" but the door had banged shut. Sirius shrugged, returning to his
work. James would eat his words when they smoked out the Slytherin's
Quidditch practice. Ah, the joys of chemistry.

*

The Potions room was a wide, large, square place, with shelving over all
available wall-space and a small platform at the front for the teacher to
use in demonstrations. Three rows of four-person desks stretched from the
entrance to the platform, black, scarred from use. The floor was blackened
in some areas, but never dusty, and the jars crowding each shelf were always
full. Extra cauldrons cluttered the corner to the left of the platform;
High-light candles illuminated the entire room. The classroom reflected its
teacher -neat, open, and intelligent. Remus made himself comfortable at the
middle-row table he and the Marauders shared, almost looking forward to
today's brewing session.

A bag dropped next to the empty chair at his side.

"Uh oh." he said when James took his seat alone. Not good.

"Yup." intoned the wild-haired wizard, doom in his voice. "He's at it
again."

"And you left him?! Are you crazy?"

James held his hands up defensively. "Hey, I have a team to train, I can't
afford to risk any more detentions than I do regularly."

"You trust him?" Remus looked doubtful, sitting forward to lay out his fresh
notescroll and quill. James, shaking his head, mimicked his actions.

"There was nothing I could do. You *know* how he gets." they shared a
knowing look. "Besides, the best stuff is born when the process goes
uninhibited. Who can fight inspiration?"

Remus arched one sarcastic brow. Sirius was notorious for his 'inspiration'.
When it struck nothing got through that black head. Scribbled napkins,
bizarre symbols scrawled on the back of his hand, parchments of notes that
sporadically trailed off into disorganized ideas and mapped equations,
drawings of hypothetical results on desktops -all a part of that mysterious
force they loosely dubbed 'inspiration'. Over the years they'd taken to
lugging a scroll and quill with them everywhere, just in case; If Sirius
couldn't jot that muggle intricacy down he tended to get a little twitchy.
And, like James had stated, Sirius thought up some marvelous things, things
they didn't want to miss for lack of proper supplies. It was endearing.
Frustrating, but endearing. To Remus anyway.

Still, common sense made him wary. Sirius had a bad habit of blowing things
up when no one was around. "Remember what happened the last time we left him
alone? A quick trip to the common room and boom! Up went the whole back half
of our room. He was lucky to survive." Horrible thought, that.

"The scariest part is that he was laughing." James muttered, and Remus
nodded in total agreement. "Let's not jinx it, ok? Where's Pete? The clock
said he was here."

"Oh..." Remus winced. "He and Ronnie had a fight." he pointed to the slumped
bundle at his other side. "It's not pretty."

James gaped. "A fight? But Pete and Ronnie don't fight! Everybody knows
that!"

"Apparently they do."

Peter and Veronica Springhip had been dating for two years, two disgustingly
perfect years. The whole sixth year class maintained a healthy state of awe
at the sweetness and maturity and understanding that passed between them.
Not only was it an inter-house relationship -Ronnie was a Hufflepuff- it was
a marriage of exact likenesses, and everyone in the wizarding world knew
that those dulled and ended quickly. Yet somehow they'd become a staple, a
constant, something to rely on, especially for the Marauders. Mainly due to
the fact that James, their intrepid leader, thrived on security and routine,
and that that very same boy was embroiled in a rollercoaster of a
relationship with the famous Lily Evans. Besides, people had expectations.
They counted on Sirius to be anti-sexual, Remus to be asexual, James to
fighting and/or making up with Lily, and Peter to be wallowing in
near-domestic bliss. That was how it worked.

James really hated when a screw came loose in the well-oiled machinary of
his life. "Damn it." he growled. "This is shaping up to be a terrible day."

Remus patted him on the head.

"No kidding." moaned the disconsolant lump they called Wormtail.

"Oh come on, guys, it's bound to get better."

"Thanks, Remus. You just jinxed it."

"I hate optimists."

Professor Thatcher called class to attention, otherwise Remus would have
taken offense at Peter's optimist comment. The sixth year Gryffindors and
Slytherins shuffled their notescrolls into use as a lecture on various
sleeping potions began. Thatcher always did a brewing on Double days, so she
tended to launch straight into those lesssons. They served as an effective
conversation stopper. Her concise, unrepetitive teaching method left a
student confused if he or she didn't catch everything. Sirius was definitely
in trouble.

Fortunately for the black-haired boy the only one who topped him in Potions
was Severus Snape. He just had a knack for brewing things, chemically or
magically.

Remus smiled and doodled a large, black dog in his margin. He had such a
hard time paying attention when Sirius was dancing around in his head. The
picture was drifting into a pattern of stars and hearts when the class door
thudded open and he jumped, whispering a quick erasing spell. James and he
shared another knowing look out of the corner of their eyes.

"Well." Professor Thatcher ceased her lecture mid-word, gesturing with an
expectant hand. "Mr. Black. Good morning. So nice to see you."

Sirius struggled to keep his books balanced. "Good morning, Professor."

"You're a fright, young man."

"Yeah." sheepishly -he really was. Blue-violet eyes darted out from beneath
mussed bangs, alert, but his shoulder-length hair was uncombed, his shoes
were only half on, and his robes were disheveled enough to expose the muggle
jeans and t-shirt he wore underneath. The books he carried barely stayed in
his arms. "I took a tumble down one of the staircases and everything
scattered. That's why I'm late. Sorry, Professor Thatcher." he lied smoothly
and-

-Smiled.

No matter how violently Sirius espoused the negatives of dating, that smile
still sent hopeful hearts aflutter. It was wide and a twinge lop-sided and
his lips had a way of parting that echoed the painted mouths of showgirls,
painfully charming. Small, white teeth gleamed. An endless line of girl
melted for him when he smiled, sought his heart, his arm, always ended up
disappointed. Because Sirius Black -breath-taking, clumsy Sirius Black-
didn't date. Ever.

Thatcher shook her head tolerantly, affected. "Clumsy, as ever. Are you
hurt?"

"Oh no. I wasn't up very far. Thanks."

"Sit down then. Let me know if you begin to feel unwell. You may need to see
Madame Pomfrey."

"Sure thing." Sirius teetered to the empty spot next to James and dropped
his load of books loudly before seating himself. The sleep-inducing lesson
on sleeping potions resumed; the class' attention shifted from Sirius, who
was searching for his notes, back to Thatcher. Amidst the scuffling, Snape's
snide insult went unheard by all but the Marauders sans Peter, who was too
busy grieving to care.

"So, how many galleons did you pay her not to give you a detention this
time? Oh that's right, you only have *muggle* money, and little at that. My
apologies. Did you sleep with her as recompense?"

"If I say yes will it feed your sick fantasies long enough to keep you away
from me for the rest of the day?" Sirius replied, though one wouldn't know
it from the cheerful expression he plastered on.

Snape hissed. "The only fantasies I have involving are the blood kind,
Black."

"Oooh, kinky."

"You're disgusting."

"No, actually, I wash regularly. I can teach you if you want. You certainly
need the lesson. No offense."

"None taken. I learned early on to ignore the idiocy of the smaller-brained
species."

Remus rolled his eyes and tried to focus on whatever it was Thatcher was
spouting. Their skill had to be lauded, as childish as it all was The entire
battle took place without them so much as glancing at each other. In fact
both looked attentive, positive even. It was a wonder that they heard each
other, with the isle between them and their voices so low. Remus didn't have
a problem, being cursed with heightened senses, but they certainly should
have. Perhaps they had a built-in insult-radar that allowed them to pick up
any derogatory remark clearly.

Oh, nice, I'm thinking in mechanical terms, Remus thought. I'm thinking like
Sirius.

But it was better to think like him than of him. It was hopeless, after all.

*

Peter caught the batwing slices before they could ruin the potion the
Marauders were working on. Such speed was unlike him -he was the solid,
plodding type- but he saved their concoction nonetheless. For once.

"Thanks, Pete." Remus let out a relieved breath as he recorded the latest
component. Thatcher insisted that all groups keep a list of their
ingredients and measurements exactly as they went into the cauldron as a
safety precaution. That way if something went wrong she could trace the
mistake and brew a proper cure. He was always saddled with writing it
because his handwriting was by far the best. Had James or Sirius or Peter
been in charge it would have been chaotic. "I thought we were goners."

"We should be so lucky." James glowered. "More like our *grades* would have
been goners."

"What's this about gone grades?" Asked Sirius as he plopped the bottle of
chrysanthemum root he'd gone after down.

"Snape knocked batwings over our cauldron, but Pete caught them in time."

"Mmm." a smirk quirked his lips. "Your grades. Not mine."

"Shut up." growled James.

Professor Thatcher had asigned the class a variety of sleeping potions which
they were to sample when complete. Each group had a different drought, and
one of each group had to take on the dubious chore of sampling whatever the
amateurs had brewed. All of the antedotes had been prepared prior to class,
unfortunately, so any enterprising student hoping for an excuse to sleep
away the afternoon was disappointed. The Marauders had gotten a fairly
unchallenging Easy-Rest Potion, to Sirius dismay. He'd been yearning for one
of the stronger Somnomnis ones, though the others had been gracious enough
to assuage his wounded intellect by allowing to him to be the sampler.

Remus smiled to himself. It was all so normal.

"We need rock salt."

"Padfoot, fetch!"

"Watch it, Hornhead."

"Ha ha." James nudged Remus smugly. "He went. All I need now is a leash."

Remus laughed. "I dare you."

"Bad idea."

"It'll be funny. I can see it now. You dragging him to one of those prissy
dog shows, all done up, growling. We could have Tori dress him in her bows.
Pink ones!"

Peter and James practically fell over cackling as Remus pantomimed the
event. Their amusement increased twofold when the light-haired wizard threw
a pretend-leash around Sirius' neck upon the boy's return. Sirius, to his
credit, remained bewildered only long enough to decide to pretend it hadn't
happened. The potion called.

"I hope you boys have a good reason to be slacking. I don't see any work
being done." Thatcher interloped on their game. But her voice wasn't
condemning, unlike Professor Cigel, the doom-and-gloom Divinations teacher
whose very posture forbade human emotions. One too many visionary nightmares
had soured him -he had a way of staring at Peter that unnerved anybody
nearby.

Remus, James, and Peter went quiet. Even if Professor Thatcher was in a
lenient mood it was unlikely she'd let them get away with careless brewing.
Potions were too dangerous for anything but intense concentration. That was
why they let Sirius do all the work. It was only fair; They all rode on each
other's strengths in one class or another.

"Actually, Professor." Sirius pinched in a bit of rock salt and saved his
friends at the same time. The potion turned blue. "We're done."

"Hmmm." Thatcher began her usual check-over of Remus' list while Sirius
filled a vial with Easy-Rest to drink. The other boys relaxed. Another
successful Double Potions. Remus had been leery of letting Sirius handle the
brewing, after all he'd missed most of the lesson, but the other boy had
assured him of his ability, and once again it seemed he'd pulled it off.

He mimicked the leashing again; James and Peter snickered.

"This isn't right..." the Professor said suddenly, green eyes narrowing.
Then horror suddenly, frighteningly dawned. "Wait! Sirius! No!"

But it was too late.

*

James leapt up, but it was Remus who caught Sirius as he fell. Though he
lost his own balance to the awkward catch, the werewolf's lightning-fast
reflexes saved Sirius from smashing into any number of deadly corners.
Together they plunged to the floor. Chairs skittered beneath their combined
weight, knocking tables and crashing noisily out into the isle. Cauldrons
spilt. Shrieks rang out from the surrounding tables and instantly students
were flocking to the scene of the commotion, slipping on hot potions and
bumping into each other heedlessly.

"Oh my god!" cried the first one to see.

Sirius lay limp, sprawled in Remus' lap like a lifeless bag of flesh and
bone. There was no color to his skin. He wasn't breathing.

"Sirius!" Panicked by the death-still form of his friend, Remus frantically
pressed his hands to Sirius' neck. "Sirius! Shit!" Fingers sought a pulse
and found none.

James dropped to his knees and did the same with his wrist. "Sear!" Nothing.
Brown eyes met amber wildly. "He's got no heartbeat!"

Peter stood, hand over mouth, stunned.

The classroom erupted.

Thatcher had to use a magnifying spell to make her voice heard over the
chaos. "Someone get the Headmaster!" she yelled. The sound of it rocked
through the room like thunder. "Now!" As soon as she saw a pale head dart
out the door she shoved her way through the throng and knelt with James and
Remus, eyes scanning Sirius intently.

"Professor!" Remus begged. "Help! He's not breathing! He's got no pulse!"

"Please." She thumbed the pulse-point. "Just...calm down." Her voice
quavered.

"Calm down?!" screeched James. "Calm down?! That's my best friend! I won't
calm down!" But he forgot her then and focussed on the fallen wizard with
all his will. His strong hands cupped Sirius' drooping head, turning it to
face him; he stared at the slack features achingly. "Please." he whispered.
"Don't be dead. Please."

"He can't be dead." Remus whispered. "He can't be dead." He fisted his own
hands in the wrinkled robe covering Sirius' shoulders. There was no attempt
made to hide the terror he felt.

Professor Thatcher leaned back, head down.

"He can't be dead." James repeated, meeting Remus' gaze, equally
terror-stricken. Loosing Sirius would destroy him. The aggravation he'd felt
that morning seemed petty and useless. He couldn't leave Sirius with those
words. He couldn't.

"He's not dead." She touched both gently on the shoulder. "Don't worry,
boys. He's not dead. In a way."

Both snapped their eyes to her. "In a way?!" Remus echoed and clutched
Sirius harder. A pale hand fell lifelessly to the floor.

"It's hard to explain.

"Just explain!"

"I-"

"Professor!" called the student who'd run for Dumbledore. "The Headmaster is
here!"

The message spread like a balm on the upset students. Clamoring voices
quieted, breath came slower. It was all right now, Dumbledore could mend
anything. He strode rapidly through the room, tranquilty followed as he
passed. The very sound of his robes brought security. Peace in the simple
whoosh of heavy velvet.

"Marigold, what happened?" his serious, uncondemning eyes took in the scope
of the disaster immediately.

"A sleeping potion went wrong, Albus." Thatcher said, standing. "Mr. Black
has drunk a Fairy Tale Potion, I fear."

Dumbledore closed his bright eyes and didn't speak for a long minute.

Then, having steeled himself, he dropped a steady hand on James' shoulder.
"Be at ease, Mr. Potter." James sagged. "You as well, Mr. Lupin. Your friend
is fine."

"But, Professor." Remus wiped at his eyes. "He's-"

"Asleep. Deeply, deeply, deathly asleep. And he can be awoken."

Remus tried to force himself to trust the man who'd done so much for him.
Dumbledore wouldn't misled him. But his instincts screamed against it. He
cradled as much of Sirius as he could fit in his lap, not quite believing.
It was too unreal. No pulse, no breath, no life. The wolf inside was howling
a dirge.

"I understand your doubt, Mr. Lupin. But tell me, he's still warm, right?"
The Headmaster could sense his disbelief. And Sirius was warm, he was. Remus
felt something uncoil and leave him gasping.

"Yes."

"Well then, perhaps we'd better get him to a bed." Dumbledore smiled. With
surprsing strength and agility, the aging wizard bent and scooped Sirius'
limp form into his arms. Robes askew, hair tangled, pale and corpse-like,
Sirius hardly looked like a bride, but that was the image that sprung to
Remus' mind.

No time for fantasies, he chided himself. Not so close to losing him.

James stood, helped him to his feet and gathered Peter, always the leader.
Without asking permission they trailed behind their encumbered Headmaster
whereever he may hed, so long as he possessed something so sacred to them.

The Marauders first loyalty was to each other.

*

Gloriously soft marroon pillows and slick, black hair framed the white,
still face of Sirius. The bed he lay in was Dumbledore's own, a king-size
affair with thick curtains and blankets silken to the touch. Deep red,
almost ruby, and trimmed in silver, it dominated the Headmaster's bedroom.
Sirius' slender form was nearly overwhelmed by the luxury, but he appeared
peaceful. Dumbledore had stretched him out straight on his back and arranged
his hands gently across his stomach, just like the sleeping princess of
childhood tales. Double Potions had been dismissed early -now Dumbledore,
joined by the Marauders and Professor Thatcher, sat in dark-wood chairs
around the extraordinary bed.

James had not yet ceased his demands for an explanation.

"My dear boy," the Headmaster smoothed the blanket over Sirius' form. "If
you would be silent, perhaps I could explain." It was as close to a
reprimand as he'd ever come to giving the wild-haired boy.

Remus jabbed James. "Shut up."

"Ow. Fine. I'm just worried, ok?" James snapped. Anxiety marred his brow the
way it would a captain's when one of his troop went down.

"I understand, Mr. Potter, I really do, but you must believe me when I say
Mr. Black will be all right. He just tripped his way into another bit of
trouble." the bearded man chuckled. "A little more than he could handle,
unfortunately."

James' eyes narrowed. "It's not funny."

"Stop it!" Remus hissed. "You're being an arse."

"I'm. Worried!"

"So am I, but I'm not losing control!"

"Bugger control, I'm scared. I'm bloody scared! What if they're wrong?"

Peter lifted his head, finally, and glared at the them from the place he'd
silently taken across the bed. "You're both out of control. Would you just
be quiet?!" he snarled.

"Boys." Dumbledore was all seriousness as he swept them each up in his
bright blue eyes. "I'm not wrong."

James and Remus looked away, ashamed.

"No, he's not." Affirmed Thatcher. "Mr. Black drank a Fairy Tale Potion, and
while it's not the easiest thing to remedy, it *can* be done, if the proper
steps are taken."

"That's where we need your help." Dumbledore said.

They spoke at the same time. "Anything."

"What can we do, Professor?" Peter asked.

"First allow me to enlighten you about Mr. Black's condition. It's a bit
messy, so no interruptions. Ok?"

All three nodded.

Dumbledore relaxed slightly, making himself more comfortable before
beginning. The lights in his room dimmed in time to his mood, no longer the
glaring starkness of when they'd entered. It didn't help the boys. Remus
wrung his hands and James gripped the armrests so hard his knuckles were
white. Unnaturally pale, like Sirius' bloodless flesh.

"Fairy Tale Potions were first discovered in the late 1400s by a man named
Florencio Masciangelo in Italy. He was a dark wizard, notable for more than
just his potion-making abilities. His skill was combining love-magic with
other kinds to create especially dangerous enchantments. The Adoratus charm
is credited to him as well, which I'm sure you studied in Defense Against
the Dark Arts. The three Fairy Tale Potions were of later design, perfected
close to the end of his life, when he was markedly more insane. He called
them 'I Baci di Amore Allineare'. 'The Kisses of True Love'.

Each potion holds true to his usual style, a melding of love-magic and
potent curses. Whoever drinks the potion falls victim to whatever curse it
involves, and can only be cured by exactly that, a Kiss of True Love. The
first is called 'Beast's Kiss', which turns the drinker into a monstrous
beast. The second is 'Sea's Kiss', which turns the drinker into a creature
of the waters, like a frog or a mermaid. The third is the most dangerous,
because the curse is extremely subtle, and, without the necessary knowledge,
can be mistaken for death. That is 'Sleep's Kiss', which spells the drinker
into a 'sleep like unto death'.

The Kiss of True Love is the only antedote for any of these potions. Because
they toy with love and form and time they have been expressly forbidden
since their creation. The few instances of their use have been terrible.
Even the muggle world was affected, though that history has long since
passed into myth. That is how the name 'Fairy Tale' came to distinguish them
-because of the fairy tales muggles have based on their influence. 'Beauty
and the Beast', 'Snow White', 'The Frog Prince', 'The Little Mermaid', and
'Sleeping Beauty' are some of those legends. 'Sleeping Beauty' fits quite
nicely our mishap, if any of you are familiar with it. Mr. Black as fallen
victim to an accidental 'Sleep's Kiss' Potion."

Finished, Dumbledore leaned forward and stroked a stray strand of hair off
of Sirius' cheek. Thatcher was nodding to herself, satisfied with the gieven
explanation. But James, Remus, and Peter could only stare at their
slumbering friend and try to absorb the implications. It hit James first,
vocally.

"But -if -that means...that the only thing that can wake him up is a Kiss of
True Love." he said, aghast.

"Merlin..." Peter breathed, wide-eyed. "Unreal."

Remus sat still, very still, and silent. The hazel-gold of his gaze alighted
on Sirius' black lashes, sweeping gently his porcelain cheek, and seemed
numbed. Intense and numbed.

"That is why we need your help." continued the Headmaster. "You know Mr.
Black better than anyone I dare say. Is he involved with anyone? Is there
anyone who may love him truly?"

Slow terror flooded James' face. "No. He refuses to dat, to even *like*
anybody. He absolutely doesn't love anybody like that. I'd know if he did
and..he doesn't! There has to be another way!"

Thatcher shook her head. "I'm afraid there isn't any other way. He'll sleep
until he receives the right Kiss, and it that's never, he'll sleep
eternally, never aging, never dying." she brushed the dark-haired boy's
hands with her fingertips sadly. "This Fairy Tale Potion suspends life
completely."

"Wait." Dumbledore's wuick intervention prevented James from having an
emotional meltdown. "You misunderstand the idea, Mr. Potter. Mr. Black
doesn't have to love the Kisser, the Kisser has to love Mr. Black. Requital
has nothing to do with it."

"But nobody is in love with Sirius! He won't let anybody!"

A grave smile curved Dumbledore's lips. "Nothing can stop a love from
existing if it was meant to exist."

Pangs wracked Remus suddenly, as if his heart were spasming, starving.

"Surely someone has made as advance for him." Professor Thatcher insisted.

"Well, yeah. Plenty of girls have asked him out. Lots claim to be in love
with him, half of the Gryffindors at least, and some from other houses too.
How do we tell who truly loves him?" asked James.

It only it had been him under the spell, this would have been so much
easier. For all that he and Lily fought, the love between them was true. Or
Peter, because Ronnie would have kissed him awake regardless of whatever
disagreement had sundered them. But Sirius was surrounded by such a
maelstrom of crushes. Proclamations of undying love came to him all the
time, and there were numerous girls who swooned over him regularly. His
looks, his wit, his brilliance, even his clumsiness drew romance to him like
a magnet. No one stood out as a True Lover in the swarms. It would be
impossible to determine which girl wanted to spend her life with him and
which just wanted to claim him. If anyone really did.

"We'll have all of them try kissing him then."

"But what if none of them truly love him?" was James' question to that.

Dumbledore stood. "So many questions, young Potter. I highly doubt that will
be the case." he pulled his long wand out of his sleeve, and the others
stood as well; James' mouth opened around another worried inquiry, undetered
by the Headmaster's comment, but Dumbledore preempted him. "And if that *is*
the case, he will sleep."

"But-"

Th white-haired wizard struck his wand upon the air. With a sound like
earth-crashing the bed disappeared and Sirius with it. The room shuddered.

"He will sleep."

*

The day had passed.

The sun was barely above the horizon -pinks, oranges, purples had just begun
to paint the clouds. Sunset. Remus curled up on the wide windowsill, alone
in the room he shared with the Marauders, and watched, feeling the moonrise,
reveling in the tingles that pricked his nerves. This was familiar, and
suddenly, next to the thought of losing Sirius, not so scary anymore.

Remus stretched a hand out until his fingers knocked the glass. He pressed
his palm into its cool comfort, and oh, how he wished he could touch the
sky. To steal its blossoming color and smear it into bone-white
corpse-flesh. To kiss such flesh red, living.

And oh, how he wished Sirius wasn't so untouchable, so like the sky.

*

TBC