Friday, June 23, 1978

Sirius blinked in the bright afternoon sunlight as he strolled across the grounds, heading for the lake. He drew to a stop in front of a beech tree and sat down, resting his back against the trunk and pulling his pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Faint snatches of conversation drifted through the air, and the sun warmed his face as he lit a cigarette and took the first satisfying drag. The smoke dissipated into the air as he closed his eyes, savoring the lazy contentment of the day.

"You're supposed to be packing," Mary remarked, sitting down beside him and helping herself to a cigarette. Everyone else is all packed up already."

He shrugged and exhaled a long stream of smoke into the air. "I'll get it packed. Or I won't, and I'll have to leave some things behind. Either way, life will go on." He draped an arm around her and pulled her close, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair. "Are you all packed, then?"

She grinned. "Fuck, no. But I don't have as much stuff as you do."

He raised his eyebrows, chuckling. "Rubbish. You have ten times more things than I do. You own about fifty pairs of pants."

"Are you complaining?"

He shook his head. "Fuck, no."

They lapsed into companionable silence, watching the breeze make ripples on the lake as a huge, fluffy cloud obscured the sun. Sirius thought about his things scattered around the dormitory – he really should go and pack, but the sun felt so nice and the breeze was so refreshing and it was so relaxing to sit here with Mary, smoking and not doing much of anything. It reminded him of another June day much like this one, when he had also been avoiding packing, but for very different reasons.

"Do you remember that day two years ago, when we sat in this same spot and smoked together and spilled our guts?" he asked, flicking a bit of ash onto the ground and turning to look at Mary.

She took a drag on her cigarette, her lips forming a tight, seductive circle around it as she drew in, then exhaled her smoke into the afternoon air.

"Of course I remember that," she said, tossing her hair out of her face. "That was our first real conversation." She twirled a strand of hair around her finger, then shook her head. "I can't believe that was two years ago. God, I can't believe we've been shagging for almost two years."

"You mean, you can't believe you've had the pleasure of shagging me for the past two years?" He grinned, then pressed his lips to the top of her head, brushing against the strands of her hair, warm from the sun.

"Sure, that's what I mean." She rolled her eyes, then tapped her cigarette against one of the beech tree's roots and looked up at him. "I can't believe we're leaving tomorrow for good."

He nodded. "I know. I liked it here better than my own home, when I lived at Grimmauld Place."

"Me too. Here, there's no chance of your electricity being shut off for not paying the bill." She watched smoke curl from the end of her cigarette, then added, "When I was young, I kept the electricity going with my magic. Except back then we didn't know magic was even a thing, so I didn't realize I was doing it, and Melanie assumed someone had paid the bill for us. We kept giving our neighbors the side eye, trying to figure out who it had been. When I finally figured out it had been me the whole time, I couldn't decide whether it was funny or sad. I suppose it's a little of both."

He laughed, leaning his head back against the tree trunk. "It doesn't surprise me at all. You're stubborn, and don't like accepting help from anyone, and your magic is powerful in a sneaky sort of way."

"Oh, shut up. You're just flattering me."

He tilted his head sideways to look at her. "Are you joking? When have you ever known me to flatter you? I tell the truth, Macdonald, whether or not people want to hear it."

She grinned and ran her fingers through his hair. "I guess that's true." She rested her head against his shoulder, pressing her lips close to his ear to murmur, "Lily and James will be engaged in a few days."

He blew out a long drag. "You think there's any chance she won't say yes?"

Mary laughed, her breath warm against Sirius's neck. "Not a chance. Do you?"

"Nah." He took another drag, then stubbed his cigarette out against the tree's twisting roots. "Prongs is going to cry. I'm sure of it."

"I think Lily's going to cry." She blew out a mouthful of smoke, then laughed. "Who are we kidding? They're both going to cry."

"And we're going to stand there, sipping champagne and laughing at what a couple of sentimental sods our friends are."

She dropped her cigarette and ground it out beneath her foot. "Yes we are. And then we're going to get drunk and dance like lunatics."

Sirius tapped his fingers against the tree root and thought about James proposing to Lily, and their eventual wedding, and his relationship with Mary. There were all sorts of things he wanted to say, like how happy he was to have Mary in his life, and how grateful he was that things had worked out after he had been such an arsehole to her, and how terrified he was that something would happen to her in the war and he would be left to carry on alone. But of course, he didn't express these kinds of thoughts, particularly not sober, so instead he tightened his arm around her shoulders and chuckled.

"Yes, we are. I told Prongs it didn't matter what they did for their wedding, as long as they do an open bar and you wear a low-cut bridesmaid dress. These stipulations are non-negotiable."

Mary giggled, sliding down to lay on her back under the lush branches of the tree. A few blades of grass tickled the side of Mary's face, and her hair spilled across the ground and onto Sirius's lap. He reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze before he could stop himself. Words hovered on his lips, begging to be spoken, but he shoved them back.

"Black?" Her wide, dark eyes were heavy with emotion, and Sirius took a deep breath, afraid of what she was about to say. "Things are scary and fucked up and absolutely mad, but I'm glad I'm in this with you."

He hesitated, fiddling with her curls as the sun filtered through the branches and warmed the top of his head. His first instinct was to laugh and dismiss her statement as sentimental bullshit, but there was something about the sunlight streaming through the leaves, and the hair falling into her face, and the way this conversation paralleled their conversation two years ago that made him silence his initial response. Instead, he bent to kiss the top of her head.

"Me too," he murmured.

She looked up at him, and he could tell she understood everything he wanted to communicate with those two words, everything he had left unspoken that hovered in the air between them. Down by the lake, a frog jumped into the water with a soft splash, while over by the Quidditch pitch, someone laughed and called out to a friend. Sirius's hand stayed wrapped around Mary's, warm and reassuring and solid. He tried to memorize every detail of this moment so he could revisit it later when the walls were crumbling down around them.

"Alright," he said, giving her hand another squeeze before releasing it and getting to his feet. "That's enough of this sentimental bullshit. We have a lot of shit to pack, and we should probably drink some of the firewhisky so we don't have to lug it back to London." He offered her his hand and pulled her to his feet. "Smart thinking, right?"

She laughed. "Genius. They should give you Harold Minchum's job, with all the good ideas you have."

They strolled back to the castle together, leaving the beech tree and the lake and their moment of shared vulnerability behind.

The dungeons were even more deserted than usual, and Lily shivered in the damp, cool air. Everyone seemed to be packing or taking care of other last minute tasks before the train left tomorrow, but Lily's things were already stacked neatly in her trunk. Her unfinished business was down here, in the little workroom where she had spent countless hours brewing potions. Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside, hesitating on the threshold as she looked at the space that had become her escape over the past few months. The room was small and unassuming, with its worn work table, scarred from years of chopping ingredients, and the stone floor, discolored from one too many boiled over potions, yet it had afforded her a place of peace and calm that she had achieved nowhere else.

Now she paused beside the little hiding spot underneath the work table, her eyes scanning for a glimpse of parchment peeking out. She saw none, but that didn't mean there wasn't a folded scrap concealed inside. Her heart pounded as she stretched out her hand, her fingers brushing the smooth edge of the table leg, then pulling back at the last second.

No. I don't want to read whatever he has to say, she thought. What do I care what a bigoted arsehole Death Eater has to say, when half the time he's just making snarky comments about James, anyway? The thoughts ran through her head, fanning her anger until it burned away her other emotions. She turned to leave, her feet propelling her out the door and across the classroom. She was halfway down the corridor before she turned and sprinted back to the workroom, hands shaking and heart pounding as she knelt to pull the parchment from the hiding spot. Her fingers ran along the bottom of the table, feeling for the edge of the note…

Nothing. She checked again, tracing her hand along the entire bottom of the table, but it was empty. Straightening, she breathed a sigh of relief, because this was what she had wanted, wasn't it? Don't write me any more notes, she had scribbled in her fit of anger, and for once he had respected her wishes. Good. About fucking time.

She took a step toward the door, but she found her vision obscured by tears, and then she was sinking to the floor and resting her head in her hands as her shoulders shook with sobs. This is so stupid. Why am I upset when I told him the friendship was over? I don't need friends like him. Yet she knew she wasn't upset that he hadn't responded to her note. She grieved for the best friend she had lost to hate and prejudice and Dark Magic, and for the fragile thread of hope she had allowed to grow during their months of exchanging notes and brewing potions together, and for her own failure to make any progress on the cure Remus desperately needed. Somehow she had always known they couldn't rekindle their friendship, not permanently, but she had let herself enjoy a temporary reminder of what it had been like, back before they made their own separate choices. Those choices tore them apart, increasing the distance between them until nothing could bridge the gap. Just like her relationship with her sister, she and Severus were too different now, and no amount of shared history and inside jokes would change that.

Fuck you, Sev. She missed him. Even after everything, she missed him, and that made it so much worse. It would be easier to hate him, and in some ways she did. At the same time she missed sitting in the library together, making snide comments about the people they didn't like; spending hot summer days in the park, lying side-by-side in the grass or drifting back and forth on the swings; competing against each other in Potions to earn the top grade or an admiring remark from Slughorn or the perfect shade of lilac in their Draught of Living Death. Thinking about this made her chest ache with sadness, because they would never be that way again, and the memories were tainted by the venom in his voice when he had spat Mudblood at her that day by the lake.

Taking a shaky breath, she wiped her eyes and got to her feet, then strode out into the classroom. Slughorn kept spare quills, ink, and parchment at a table near the door, and she helped herself. She scrawled a brief message, then carried it back to the workroom, holding it with care to allow the ink time to dry. For a moment she hesitated, considering writing more, but then she folded up the parchment and stashed it in the hiding place beneath the table, rushing away before she could change her mind or dissolve into tears again.

Goodbye, Sev, she thought, echoing the words of her note. With that thought she walked out of the classroom and out into the corridor, leaving behind that aspect of her life for good.

The Great Hall was decorated with blue and bronze Ravenclaw banners when James and his friends made their way in for the Leaving Feast. As they passed the Ravenclaw table, James nodded at Donald Fawcett, Stacy Tremblay, and Eddie Edgecombe.

"Nice one," he said, gesturing at the Ravenclaw decorations. "Maybe now that I'm leaving, Gryffindor will actually have a chance at the House Cup."

Donald Fawcett grinned. "You might've won if you hadn't lost all those points for the Polyjuice shenanigans."

"Worth it," James said, shrugging and waving to them before heading over to take a seat at the Gryffindor table. "Hey, Evs? I'm thinking as Head Boy and Girl, we should make a speech."

Lily's eyes widened in alarm. "What? Head Boy and Girl don't give a speech."

"Not traditionally, but we're not exactly the traditional Head Boy and Girl, are we? I'd like to say a few words to thank everyone for seven excellent years, and for putting up with all my nonsense." He slid his arm around her waist. "You should come up with me. United front and all that."

She didn't relax into his touch, but remained rigid, her face white. "I'm not giving a speech. I haven't prepared anything. Even if I had, I wouldn't give a speech to the whole school. I'll drop dead right there, and Filch will have to carry my body out, and it will bring down the whole mood of the feast."

He frowned. "Why would Filch carry you out? I'd carry you out before I'd let Filch touch you with his grubby hands."

"Well, thanks for that, but that's not really the point."

He reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. "I know you don't like public speaking, and I don't want to force you to do anything you don't want to do. I just think it would be quite nice if you came up there with me, even if you just stand there and hold my hand and don't say anything. Because honestly, I think we're the most adorable Head Boy and Girl Hogwarts has ever seen, and I think everyone should see us being adorable together one last time. And also, we have lots of great insights to share, and if Dumbledore gets to blather on every time we have a feast, I think it's only fair we get a few minutes at this one."

Lily sighed. "I guess I'll have to agree, because otherwise you'll never stop bothering me about it." Her face was pale and her body was tense, but James saw the hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

"Good evening," Dumbledore said after holding his hand up for silence. The chatter died away, leaving only the occasional cough or shuffle of feet against the floor. "We've reached the end of another school year…"

James looked around at his friends, their faces illuminated by the flickering torchlight as they sat listening to Dumbledore. He thought about all of the feasts they had enjoyed together throughout the years. Once they had hidden Dungbombs under the Slytherin table, and one went off just as Dumbledore cleared his throat to begin his welcome speech. Another time, Sirius had spent the entire feast throwing Bertie Bott's at Bertram Aubrey; he had gotten through half the box before McGonagall marched down to confiscate the rest of the beans. One memorable Halloween, Nearly Headless Nick had left the Great Hall in a huff because Sirius had told him he was "shit at being beheaded." "But he is!" Sirius kept insisting, indignant, until Remus laughed so hard he fell out of his chair.

As his gaze traveled over his friends' faces, James was overcome with affection for them all. He had come to Hogwarts an only child, and somehow his group of friends had become an extension of his family. They meant so much to him, and they had shared so many happy memories together and gotten each other through the bad days. Now they were headed out into the world to fight a damn war, and it all felt so big and momentous and terrifying, but he knew they would make it through somehow because that's what they did – they got each other through…

I'm being a sentimental sod, he thought, smiling to himself and realizing Dumbledore was wrapping up his speech.

"Come on, Evans," he said, sliding out of his seat and waiting as Lily did the same. They walked hand-in-hand together up to where Dumbledore stood, and James flashed his most charming smile when Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at him.

"Can I help you, Mr. Potter?"

James ran a hand through his hair. "Well, we've prepared a brief speech as Head Boy and Girl. We ran it by Professor McGonagall – surely she mentioned it to you? She said it would be in the staff memo…"

Lily elbowed James, but he continued to grin at Dumbledore, waiting in polite silence.

"Hmm, I don't remember anything about a Head Boy and Girl speech," Dumbledore said, the hint of a smile on his lips. "But I suppose we can squeeze it in. Keep it short, though, because I've been thinking about this feast all day, and there's a nice pork chop calling my name."

He nodded at them, then headed back to the staff table with a sweep of his long robes.

"We didn't prepare a speech," Lily hissed as they stepped forward and turned to face the four house tables.

"Nope. Didn't run it by McGonagall either. But I figure we'll just speak from the heart." James gave her hand another squeeze, then pointed his wand at his throat and muttered "Sonorous." After a moment's hesitation, Lily did the same.

"Hi," he began, looking at the hundreds of curious faces gazing at him. A few people turned to their neighbors and began to whisper. Up at the staff table, McGonagall's lips formed a tight, thin line, and Dumbledore had his fingers steepled under his chin as he watched James with polite interest. "I know you're all hungry, but I wanted to say a few things, because I'm a sentimental sod and I'm a bit sad to leave this place, to be honest." His eyes traveled around the room, picking out friends, acquaintances, even people he would consider enemies. "I've sort of made it a point to make myself known around here, by doing things like standing on top of the Gryffindor table to sing happy birthday, or charming clouds to dump confetti and glitter on all of the Slytherins."

Someone at the Slytherin table booed, and James raised his hands in a gesture of helplessness.

"And a lot of you know me from Quidditch, which might be a good or a bad thing, depending on whether or not you're in Gryffindor, but I've also flown my broom around to throw water balloons at some of you, or chucked a Quaffle at some of your heads, and I wish I could say I'm sorry for all of that, but honestly, I'm really not." He shrugged and flashed them all a grin. "Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I really appreciate you all putting up with me and giving me a place to do all of my shenanigans, because Hogwarts really has been like a second home. And even if I've hexed you or called you stupid nicknames, most of you are pretty alright. Even you, Bertie Botts."

He waved to Bertram Aubrey, who rolled his eyes and sank down into his seat.

"And I also wanted to say thanks for giving me a chance to redeem myself a bit – because I know I used to be a bit of a prat, and if you'd told me even two years ago that I'd be Head Boy, I'd laugh in your fucking face." He glanced at the staff table and flashed them an apologetic smile. "Sorry for swearing, but sometimes you need a well-placed expletive for emphasis, you know? And the emphasis is definitely needed in this case, because I was really, really not Head Boy material." He glanced over at Lily and grinned. "This one here was destined to be Head Girl. Born for the job, really. But me?" He shook his head and laughed. "Sometimes it still boggles my mind. But a kind soul or two saw potential beneath all the rule breaking and showing off and this stupid thing I do with my hair." He ran a hand through his hair, and a few people laughed. "Thanks for taking a chance on me. Obviously I still do some silly, ridiculous things, but I think I've come a long way."

He thought about the James Potter he had been two years ago, when Lily had shouted at him for bullying Snape, and he had gone home and mulled over her words all summer. Even the version of himself at the start of this school year was far different from who he was now, and he marveled at the difference a bit of self-reflection and responsibility could make. I was convinced I'd been sent that badge by mistake, and now I'm about to do the most adult things I can think of. Maybe he wasn't as prepared as he should be – maybe he wasn't the mature adult he needed to be to make these decisions and do this job, but he would rise to the occasion. He would grow into the person he needed to be, because that's how he operated, and he always made it through somehow.

"So thanks, all of you, for giving idiots like me a place to be idiotic and have fun and get into trouble, but also for giving me the chance to grow up a bit and believing I'm capable of doing so. Because that's what Hogwarts is for, I suppose. And I guess I want to encourage you all to take a chance on yourselves, even if you think you can't learn the Patronus Charm or perfect the Wronski Feint or get a date with that girl you like – because if I can become Head Boy, you can do impossible things, too."

He swallowed, thinking of the task that lay ahead of them as soon as they left Hogwarts.

"And the way things are going, more people need to start believing they can do impossible things, because the only way we're going to turn things around is by realizing that most things aren't actually impossible if you have the gobstones to try and the right amount of stubbornness to keep going until you succeed. So if things get worse – and let's be honest, they're going to – remember that I asked Evans out no fewer than thirty-two times before she finally said yes, and I served over fifty detentions and still became Head Boy. Don't give up. You'll get through somehow – we'll get through somehow. We always do."

"Prongs, shut the fuck up. I'm wasting away over here!"

James turned his gaze to the Gryffindor table and waved at Sirius, then held up a finger. He looked over at Lily and raised an eyebrow; she nodded, a reluctant smile spreading across her face.

"Now I'm going to shut up, because I've rambled on for so long that you're probably all plotting ways to murder me so you can finally eat. And if I'm not mistaken, I think your esteemed Head Girl has something to add."

She laughed and rolled her eyes. "I don't have much to say, because surprise surprise, James already said most of it." Her hand shook in his, but her voice was strong, and James took a step closer for encouragement. "I just wanted to say, thanks for taking a chance on me, too, because I'm not the same person I was even a year ago, and Hogwarts has really made me into the person I am now, and I'm really going to miss it here." She glanced over at James, her eyes earnest and bright, reflecting the light from the candles floating above their heads. "And also, you know, being Head Girl forced me to spend a lot of time with the Head Boy, who turned out to be alright, and he also taught me that sometimes you need a fun distraction when things are looking bleak. So don't be afraid to do something silly once in a while, even if you're a prefect or you have piles of homework to do or you're afraid McGonagall's going to give you detention, because sometimes you just need to throw a Dungbomb or sled down the grand staircase on a mattress before you start crying or throw the Daily Prophet across the table. Anyway, thanks, and, er, good luck to you all."

She fell silent and glanced over at James, her cheeks flushed. James leaned over and kissed her – he couldn't help it. Students cheered and catcalled and laughed, and he could feel McGonagall's disapproving frown bearing down on him, but he didn't care. She was no longer trembling, and her hair shone in the torchlight, and in less than two days he was going to slide that diamond ring onto her finger, and he was overcome with happiness. When they broke apart, he flashed a sheepish smile at the crowd.

"Thanks for listening – well, thanks for everything, really. Enjoy the feast, and enjoy your summer, and make sure you thank Minnie for a year of excellent Transfiguration lessons, and maybe if you ask nicely she'll play you a tune on the ukulele."

With that he took Lily's hand and strode back toward the Gryffindor table amid applause and more laughter.

"You're an idiot," she said, beaming. "Absolutely mad."

"I know. You were brilliant, though. You'll be addressing the Wizengamot in no time."

She threw her head back and laughed. "I really would die if I had to do that." She paused a few steps away from the Gryffindor table and took his other hand. "Thanks for making me do that. You get me to do things that scare me, but you're always there to hold my hand through it. I like that." She reached over to straighten his glasses, then kissed his cheek. "Now come on. I'm really hungry."

"Can we go to the reading spot for a bit before bed?"

As they headed back to the common room, sleepy and full from the feast, Remus slipped his hand into Seven's and leaned close to murmur into her ear. She turned to look at him, her face set with a determined nonchalance, but he could see the hurt lurking in her eyes. Remus's chest tightened with guilt, but he took a deep breath and dug his fingernail into his cuticle to keep from changing his mind. There was no other way – he had to do this.

"Yeah, alright," she said before heaving a sigh and biting her lip.

She didn't speak for the rest of the walk, and when they stepped through the opening hidden by a tapestry into the little room beyond, she sank down onto one of the piles of cushions with a stony, resigned expression clouding her features. Remus took in the bits of hair pulling free from the end of her braid, her thin shoulders draped in her baggy jumper, her dark eyes fixed on his, and he was so choked with regret that for a moment he couldn't breathe. It's for the best, he reminded himself. It has to be done.

"Seven," he began, sitting down beside her and stretching his long legs out in front of him, "we have to talk about what happens now that I'm leaving Hogwarts."

She looked over at him, her fingers twisting the bit of hair at the end of her braid. For a moment she didn't say anything as she fixed him with a piercing, searching look. Then she sighed and took his hand.

"Do we have to?" she asked, a hitch in her voice although she had pasted a smile onto her face.

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I know what you're going to say. I know how you feel, and why you feel that way, and I understand why you feel that way, even if I hate it and would give anything for things to be different. So I was just thinking, why spoil our last night together by having a conversation that's going to make me cry?"

Her words sent a stab of pain through his chest. He worked at the ragged bit of cuticle around his thumbnail, wondering if embracing her would make things better or worse. "Seven–"

"No, it's okay." She reached over and rested her free hand on his knee. "I'm not saying that to make you feel guilty. I'm just saying, why don't we have one last really good night together, and skip the heartbreaking conversation. Tomorrow, we can say goodbye, and go about our lives with no hard feelings, but tonight I don't want to think about that. Tonight I want to enjoy the time I have left with you."

Remus turned her words over in his head as he watched her expressing growing more and more desperate by the second. She needed this, and he realized he did, too. What was the point of hashing everything out, when they both knew what he was going to say? Wasn't it better to have one last good night to look back on? Exhaling the speech he had been rehearsing all day, he reached for her other hand. His cuticle was bleeding – of course it was – but he wiped it on the inside of his jumper sleeve and laced his fingers through hers.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice hoarse and heavy with emotion.

She nodded. "I'm sure." Frowning, she turned their hands sideways to examine his thumb, which was still oozing blood. "You're bleeding."

"Sorry," he muttered, but before he could wipe it on his sleeve again, she pulled out her wand and conjured him a plaster. He reached for it, but she was already unwrapping it and peeling away the backing.

"Hold still," she said, smiling, and then she wrapped it around his thumb, smoothing out the edge.

He stared at the tiny smudge of blood on the pillow underneath him and the neatly-applied plaster now covering the raw, bloody evidence of his anxiety.

"Thanks," he said, feeling the inadequacy of the statement before it even left his mouth, but there was nothing else to say, so instead he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. As their lips pressed together, he told her everything he had left unsaid. And this time, when she shut the light off, he whispered, "It's alright," then flicked his wand to turn it back on. He had nothing left to hide from her.

"I can't believe it's our last night here," Peter said, stretching out on his bed and rolling onto his side to face the others. All of their decorations had been taken off the walls, save for Sirius's poster of the busty brunette now attached with a Permanent Sticking Charm. All of James's Quaffles and Snitches had been packed away, along with Remus's books and all of Sirius's clothing that usually littered the floor. Peter had packed his own things into his trunk that afternoon, leaving his bedside table empty and desolate without his clock and the framed photograph of the four Marauders at James's beach house.

"I know. It's the end of an era," James said, sitting down on the edge of his bed and gazing around at the room where they had lived for the past seven years.

Sirius lifted his head from his pillow to scowl at James. "Prongs, if you say it's the end of an era one more fucking time, I'm going to end your era."

Lily frowned. "I'm unsure if that makes sense. Remus would have an opinion about it." She perched on the bed beside James and glanced at the door. "I thought they'd be back by now. Do you think they're okay?"

"They're probably shagging one last time," Mary said, glancing at Sirius and smirking. "It's what I'd do."

"Me too," Sirius said, patting the mattress beside him until Mary lay down and pulled the covers over both of them. "Poor Moony."

"Poor Moony," Peter agreed. He couldn't imagine ending it with someone who liked him as much as Seven liked Remus, but then again, he couldn't imagine doing half the things that Remus managed to do. Come to think of it, he couldn't imagine anyone like him that much in the first place, so he supposed it was a moot point.

"I can't believe some random first years are going to have this room next year," James said. He pointed at the opposite side of the room, then at a spot by the window and at the floor right in front of Sirius's bed. "Moony puked over there, and there, and there."

"And I fell asleep there at least five times," Peter said, gesturing at the braided rug.

"And Macdonald and I have shagged here, I dunno, too many times to count," Sirius added.

"And let's not forget that Lily and James made love in this room for the first time," Mary said, laughing when Lily glared at her.

"I feel like we should do something to leave our mark on this room," James said, running a hand through his hair. "Like a legacy, you know?"

"Well, technically Padfoot's Miss December poster will be here for people to remember us by," Peter pointed out. He studied the poster, then blushed and looked away when Mary caught him looking. Say what you will about Padfoot, he thought, but he has good taste. An image of the red cowboy hat flashed into his mind, and he smiled to himself. Good taste in girls, anyway.

"Do you really want a poster of a naked girl to be your legacy, though?" Lily asked, frowning.

"Well, it wouldn't be, if you hadn't kept trying to take her down," Sirius said, throwing back the covers and reaching for his wand on the bedside table.

"What are you doing?" Mary asked.

Sirius made a slow circuit of the room, then stopped in front of a stretch of wall beside Peter's bed and began twirling his wand between his fingers.

"I'm leaving a legacy that Evans the Miss December hater will approve of," Sirius said, drawing a wide circle on the wall with his wand. A golden light lit the stone for a moment before fading to a faint glow and disappearing. Sirius frowned, tapping his wand against his legs until sparks flew from the tip.

"Don't start a fire, Black," Mary said, eying his wand. "That's an even worse legacy than Miss December."

"I don't appreciate the way you lot are talking about my girl," Sirius said without taking his gaze away from the wall. "She's been with me longer than you have, Macdonald. And you know what, she never makes rude comments or steals my clothes."

"Yes, well, you're welcome to date her instead of me, if you like," Mary said, rolling her eyes. She propped herself up on her elbow to study the poster. "She is quite good looking. I'd kill for hair like that, and also, well, obviously she's got great–"

"Eyes?" Lily interrupted, giggling.

Mary pushed a strand of hair out of her face and grinned. "Yes, that's it. She has big, round, beautiful eyes." She narrowed her eyes and continued to peer at the poster. "But she seems like the sort of person who would enjoy Madam Puddifoot's, don't you think?"

"How can you tell that just from looking at someone?" Lily asked.

Sirius turned to face the poster and nodded. "You know what, you're right. Fine, Macdonald, I suppose I'll keep you around." He turned back to the wall and traced a shape with his wand, carving it into the wood, then he drew another circle in the air and the shape disappeared. When he reversed the circle and the shape reappeared, he nodded in satisfaction before turning to the others.

"Right, come and carve your names into the wall," he said, beckoning to them with his wand and sending more sparks into the air.

Peter grinned and reached for his wand, then crossed the room to join Sirius. "Padfoot, did you not learn the wand safety song as a kid?"

"Will someone please teach me the wand safety song?" Mary said as she threw back the covers and padded across the room, followed by Lily and James.

"It's not a very good song," Sirius said, dragging his wand over the surface of the wall until Sirius Black appeared, carved into the stone in his handwriting. "Besides, wand safety is overrated. I'm extremely unsafe with my wand, and I haven't died yet."

James went next, scratching his own name under Sirius's, and then it was Peter's turn. He took his time, forming each letter with painstaking strokes, but his name still came out more crude and untidy than the other two. Bloody engraving spell, he thought. I'm no good with those precise movements.

"You, too," Sirius said, looking at Lily and Mary. "You're part of our merry band of idiots, whether you want to be or not."

Lily added her name below Peter's, and Mary was finishing up when Remus and Seven walked in. Seven's hair was pulling free from her braid, and Remus had the light, carefree air that he carried with him after trips to the reading spot. Peter met his eye from across the room, and Remus grinned and gave a tiny nod of his head. Nice.

"Moony, you're just in time," Sirius said, waving him over. "Put your name right there." He jabbed the space above his own name.

"Why does my name get to be first?" Remus asked as he followed Sirius's instructions.

"Because let's face it, you're the most responsible out of all of us. You keep us from being too idiotic, and you're, you know, our voice of reason–"

"The voice of reason nobody listens to," Remus said, chuckling as he finished his name and stood back to survey his work.

"Yes, well," Sirius said, shrugging. "Seven, you can put your name below Macdonald's. You're basically an idiot, too. An honorary idiot, anyway."

Peter saw a flicker of sadness cross Seven's face, but then it was gone and she was laughing as she added her narrow, loopy signature below Mary's. He noticed that she wrote Seven instead of her given name, Beth.

"I've set it up sort of like the map," Sirius explained. "I think I have, anyway. We were so sleep-deprived and loopy when we made the map that I can't remember half the steps we took to make it. But anyway, these will disappear, and they'll only show if someone activates them. So we need a phrase. Any ideas?"

Lily grinned. "What was that one you wanted to go with instead of Mischief Managed?"

"Fuckery accomplished," Sirius said, giving Lily an appreciative nod. "You're right, Evans. That'll be perfect." He drew a circle with his wand again, then spoke the phrase again. He repeated the circular motion, and then all the names faded away, leaving behind a blank stretch of wall. "You test it, Pete. You just have to tap it – don't bother with the circly bit."

"You said circly on purpose," Remus said, glancing sideways at Sirius. "You knew I'd hate that word, if you can even call it a word."

Sirius shrugged. "Annoying you brings me joy."

Peter laughed, then tapped the wall with his wand. As they watched, the names appeared again.

"What do you think, Evans?" Sirius asked. "Is it a better legacy than Miss December?"

Lily nodded. "I like it."

Peter frowned. "Wait. What's this weird thing above Moony's name?"

"Oh, I just drew that to test out the spell."

Remus sighed. "You drew a dick to test out the spell? You could've drawn literally anything."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "That's not a dick, Moony. That's a spaceship. I learned about them in Muggle Studies."

"That's not a spaceship," Lily said, shaking her head.

"Definitely not," Mary agreed.

"You're just uncultured," Sirius said, striding across the room to flop onto his mattress with a sigh.

` They all drifted over to their beds, and James turned out the lights. Peter drew the curtains shut around his bed and lay there, listening to the slow, steady breathing as his friends fell asleep. He thought about the first night they had all spent here, when he had been afraid he would never be able to fall asleep in this strange room with three strange boys. Now he preferred their muffled breathing and occasional snoring to the silence of his bedroom at home. He wondered what it would sound like to fall asleep in the cottage he would be sharing with Remus. James had said the house was in the middle of nowhere; Peter guessed it would be even quieter than his bedroom at home, although he supposed he would get used to it, just as he got used to everything else.

"Good night, tossers," James murmured before a squeak of springs announced that he had rolled over.

"Good night," Peter whispered, closing his eyes and drifting to sleep, glad for one last night in his second home with his second family.

Saturday, June 24, 1978

James lingered in the common room as his friends filtered out of the portrait hole to go down to breakfast. He had made some excuse about forgetting something, but really he wanted to sit in his armchair by the fireplace one more time. It was silly and sentimental, yet as he passed the cluster of armchairs on his way out, the sight drew him in, and he found himself settling into the chair as younger students rushed around looking for misplaced belongings. Something soft brushed against his legs, and he looked down at Kath's ginger cat purring beside his chair. He reached down to pet her and spotted something wedged underneath the corner of the rug, then reached further until his fingers closed on the smooth surface of a Chocolate Frog card.

"Anyone lose an Agrippa card?" he called, waving the card in the air. When nobody responded, he slipped it into his pocket for Peter, although he couldn't remember if he still collected the cards.

"Are you not going down to breakfast?" Seven asked. She had just descended the stairs from her own dormitory and leaned against the back of Sirius's empty chair, twisting the end of her braid.

"I'm heading down in a minute." Her face was pale, and the movement of her fingers against her damp hair was faster and more frantic than usual. "Are you okay?"

She bit her lip and blinked once, twice, three times – then tears welled in her eyes and ran down her cheeks.

"James, why would you ask me if I'm okay?" she said, collapsing into the chair across from him and wiping her eyes.

He frowned, running his hand through his hair. "Er, sorry? Next time I'll be more inconsiderate."

She sighed and sank down further into the chair. Kath's cat hopped onto her lap and curled up, and Seven released the end of her braid to stroke the cat's velvety ears.

"It's okay. I'm just trying not to think about it or talk about it, because if I do I'll get upset, and I don't want Remus to know I'm upset because then he'll feel bad, and he already feels bad enough." She dabbed at her eye with the back of her sleeve until the cat butted her head against her arm, protesting the sudden interruption of the attention.

"He's an idiot," James said, shrugging. "I love him, and I know he's doing this because he thinks it's the right choice – and maybe it is the right choice, in the long run – but either way, he's an idiot."

Seven smiled and shook her head. The cat began kneading her leg, its purrs growing louder. "No he's not. It's for the best. I still hate it, though." She wiped her eyes again and sniffed. "I'm sorry – you hate when people cry."

He pulled his wand from his pocket and conjured her a handful of tissues, leaning across the table to hand them to her and startling the cat. She hopped down from Seven's lap and darted across the room to lurk beneath the sofa.

"It's okay," he said, laughing as the cat's paw shot out at a passing third year. "I'm getting more comfortable around crying." He lowered his voice and added, "Evans cries rather a lot. Also, you had to watch me cry after we won the Quidditch Cup, so it's only fair."

Her face brightened. "True. I wonder who will cry when we win next year." When James raised his eyebrows, she laughed and tucked her legs under her. "Is that too bold?"

James shook his head. Over by the window, someone dropped a bag of coins that spilled across the floor with a clatter. A Knut rolled under the couch, and the cat started batting it around.

"Nah. You're going to win. I bet you'll be an even better Quidditch Captain than I was." He plucked cat hair from the front of his t-shirt, and as his fingers found the lump of his whistle that was tucked around his neck, he had a sudden burst of inspiration. Grinning, he pulled the whistle from around his neck. His skin had warmed the metal, and he smiled as he ran his thumb over the tiny engraved letters on the side of the whistle. The comforting weight of it around his neck grounded him, and he had taken to wearing it most days to give him something to hold onto.

"Here," he said, holding the whistle by the chain and offering it to Seven. "You might need this."

Her eyes widened, and James worried more tears were going to leak out. "But this is your lucky whistle. I can't take this."

He shrugged. "Sure you can. I don't need it anymore. Although…" His stomach squirmed with nerves as he thought about what he was about to do. "I might need some luck tomorrow."

"No you won't. She's going to say yes." She took the whistle, dangling it in front of her face as she admired it. "Are you sure? Lily gave you this."

He remembered Lily presenting him with the whistle for his birthday last year. Every detail was vivid in his mind: the shy smile on her face, the burn of the firewhisky, the pure joy that had washed over him when he had unwrapped the whistle. But there would be other gifts – a lifetime of birthday gifts and Christmas gifts and anniversary gifts. Besides, Seven needed a boost, and he wouldn't have much use for a whistle anymore.

"She would want you to have it," James said, nodding at it. "Put it on."

She dropped it over her head, then put it to her lips and gave a shrill blast. The cat shot out from underneath the sofa with a yowl and darted up the stairs.

"I feel more like a Quidditch Captain already," she said, smiling sheepishly as Kath bounded up the stairs to retrieve her startled cat.

"You're going to be a brilliant Captain."

The whistle glinted around her neck; it looked right, like it belonged there.

"I learned from the best." Her fingers traced the words engraved along the shiny metal. "Rule #1: Never fucking give up."

He shrugged. "Sometimes you need a well-placed expletive for emphasis." He got to his feet and stretched. "I'd better get down to breakfast. You coming?"

She shook her head, still clutching the whistle. "I'm going to sort of keep my distance today. It'll be too hard not to."

"Yeah, I get it. Well, if I don't see you again before then, I'll see you at the wedding."

She frowned. "The wedding?"

"Yeah. My wedding," he said, grinning and pulling her into a hug. The whistle pressed against his chest, poking him through his shirt. "Good luck, Seven."

"You too," she murmured.

Her expression was still downcast, but there was a determined set to her mouth, and her shoulders had lost the weary slump. James grinned and waved, then strode out of the common room. There were all sorts of things to worry about these days — James could think of ten things without batting an eye — yet he would not have to worry about Seven. She was going to be just fine.

After breakfast the seventh years filtered outside and made their way down to the underground harbor while the rest of the school headed toward the carriages. The air had a damp chill that made James shiver, and he put an arm around Lily's shoulders to warm her. An unexpected hush had fallen over the group, and their footsteps echoed in the cavernous space punctuated only by a few of them speaking in low, excited voices.

The rowboats bobbed and bumped against each other, making ripples in the dark water. James gazed at them, marveling at how big they had seemed when he was a first year. Now he wondered if four seventh years could squeeze into the tiny boats.

James was going to sit with Sirius, Remus, and Peter. They had agreed on this ahead of time — well, James and Lily had proposed it, and Sirius had scoffed at the need to discuss such minutia. "What the fuck do I care where I sit?" he had demanded, rolling his eyes. "Sit me on Hagrid's lap if you like, so long as I can pop open a bottle of champagne when we pass through that curtain of ivy."

"I'll see you on the other side," James said to Lily, kissing her cheek before she and Mary went off to share a boat with Donald Fawcett and Eddie Edgecomb. He settled in beside Sirius, shifting his leg to accommodate the bottle of champagne Sirius had placed beside the narrow wooden bench seats. They grinned at each other as Hagrid gave an order, and then the oars started to propel the boats forward. Droplets of icy water splashed onto James's shirt and clung to his glasses. Tendrils of ivy tickled his face and the back of his neck, and then he squinted as they emerged into the bright June sunshine

"Don't fall in, Pete," Remus said, chuckling as Peter ducked to avoid the champagne cork Sirius had shot in his direction.

"He'd be fine," Sirius said as he wiped champagne from his mouth and passed the bottle to James. "He'll float."

"Hi, Black!" Mary called from a rowboat behind them. "We're feeling a bit thirsty over here, just saying."

"That's too bad. You should have brought yourself a beverage, then," Sirius said, turning around to grin at her.

"Look," Remus said in a hushed voice.

James followed his gaze and saw the teachers standing at the top of a hill, smiling and waving. He squinted, then laughed and nudged Sirius when he saw that Dumbledore was wearing a purple cowboy hat for the occasion. A lump formed in his throat, and he craned his neck until his eyes found Lily's. Her eyes were bright, and water had splashed up from the oars to leave dark splotches on her shirt. I love you, she mouthed.

"I love you too," he murmured, smiling.

"No need to get so sentimental, Prongs," Sirius said, plucking the bottle of champagne from Remus's hands and taking a long pull.

James turned his face up to the sun and sighed. The champagne warmed his chest as the light breeze plucked at his hair; from the boat beside them he heard Stacy Tremblay giggle as Donald Fawcett splashed her with the icy water. He turned his head to get another look at the castle, looming at the top of the cliff and silhouetted against the clear blue sky. Some of the turrets and towers were obscured by clouds, but he thought he could make out Gryffindor Tower and smiled to himself as he said a silent goodbye. His gaze lingered for another moment, drinking in the sight that he had grown to take for granted and experiencing a pang of sadness that he might never be back. I'll come back for a Slug Club party or something – me and Evans. Slughorn will love that. The thought cheered him, and the melancholy faded as he turned back to face his friends. I'll be back.

When the boats reached the bank of the lake, the students clambered out and filed along the narrow path to the station. James and his friends lagged behind the others because Sirius insisted on offering Hagrid a sip from his flask.

"I'm workin', Black!" he said, laughing, before he gave in and drained the rest of the flask.

They stumbled over rocks as they climbed the steep path; twice James grabbed Lily's hand to keep her from tumbling forward into Mary. Sweat pricked his forehead, and he could hear Peter panting behind him until they finally reached the top and joined the other students milling around the platform. James led the way onto the train and along the corridor to their usual compartment, where they all crammed in and settled their things on the racks before Sirius dealt out the cards for a round of Exploding Snap.

"Last trip on the Hogwarts Express," James mused as he sorted his cards. "It's–"

"–the end of an era, yes, Prongs, we know," Sirius said, laughing as he threw down the first card.

"Be nice to him," Lily said, passing Sirius a box of Bertie Bott's and putting her hand on James's leg. "This is a lot for his sentimental little heart."

She kissed his cheek, bracing herself against his shoulder as the train started to move. His eyes were drawn to her left hand, where tomorrow, hopefully, a diamond would sparkle on her ring finger. Once again, the thought filled him up with such strong, pure joy that it washed away the bittersweet sadness.

"I think I'll be alright," he said, slipping his hand around her waist. "But you should probably kiss me every so often, just to be sure."

He helped himself to a handful of Bertie Bott's and offered a green one to Lily, then stretched his legs out in front of him and settled in to enjoy the train ride.