Disclaimer: I am still not J K Rowling. I am just borrowing her lovely,
lovely characters.
Rating: PG
A/N: More like the last chapter; little vignettes of the Marauders. Incidentally, if anyone knows how to make italics come up on the site, I'd be grateful. I know I've seen them on other fics, but mine never seem to stay there and it's starting to bug me. Asterisks are all very well, but they spoil the effect sometimes (or I think so, anyway). I write in Word, if that makes a difference.
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Remus was packing again, though with rather more care than last time. All of his belongings did not quite fit into one suitcase any more; he had already selected which books he would take and which he would have to leave behind. Hanging on the door to the wardrobe he left the clothes he would wear tomorrow; all the rest were neatly folded and ready to go into his case. The Hogwarts Express left at eleven, and he had to get down to London first. It would be an early start.
The letter had been from Dumbledore, of course. He had always written occasionally, even when he ceased to hear from the rest of the Order, from anyone else he had thought of as friends back then. Oh, Sturgis Podmore popped round every year or so, to check he was still alive - Sturgis said that was not the purpose of his visits, but it may as well have been - and Hestia Jones turned up on the odd occasion, usually with a present of something useful. She still seemed to feel guilty that she had not been able to cope with him, that full moon so long ago.
He did not blame her; he never had. It had always surprised him when people *did* manage to deal with what Sirius had termed 'the werewolf thing', rather than when they did not. He had friends in the village now, but they were all Muggles, and what they did not know would not hurt them, or so he prayed.
He looked at his suitcase. He had not used it for, what, twelve years now, but those few months of swapping spare room for spare room and couch for couch had taken their toll. It looked much the worse for wear, and he was not sure it would stay shut once it was full.
He ran his fingertips sadly over the peeling writing. Professor R J Lupin. Had they guessed, when they gave it to him, that their joke would turn out to be true? It had been a gift from James, Sirius and Peter, when they left Hogwarts after their N.E.W.T.s. From James and Sirius, just because they felt like it, but from Peter to say thank-you. That was why they had added the Professor to his name; he had always tutored Peter, helped him when he struggled to keep up with James and Sirius. And when he had been made Prefect, he had helped the younger Gryffindors, too; those who had been brave enough to ask for the help.
He still remembered the day he had got the Prefect badge along with his usual Hogwarts letter. As had become tradition by then, the four of them had spent the last two weeks of the holidays with James and his parents. James' mother had brought their letters in, pausing to tell James off for singing raucously at the breakfast table.
"You know what they say," she had said solemnly. "If you sing before breakfast, you'll cry before night." She had always been one for the old sayings. She came out with two or three a day.
They had opened their letters, and James, Sirius and Peter had begun comparing the new books they would need. When they had noticed his silence, they looked around to see him staring in shock at the red and gold badge on the table.
"Prefect," he had said hoarsely. "He made me a Prefect, even though..." He did not have to say even though what; they always understood. James and Sirius had both hugged him, the sort of spontaneous gesture they were always making and he had always treasured.
"You see," Sirius had said with his arm still around Remus' shoulders. "He doesn't see a monster, either."
Remus sighed, and shook himself out of his reverie. No, none of them had seen the monster hidden behind the handsome face and laughing blue eyes of Sirius Black. He opened the case and went to begin stowing his books carefully inside it, but it was not empty. Curiously, he took out the old, leather-bound book left in its base.
The bottom fell out of his stomach when he opened the book and saw his fifteen-year-old best friends waving up at him from the first page. He and James had both got cameras for Christmas that year, and had both brought them to school the next term, meaning to record their lives to look back on later.
Here was Sirius, devastatingly handsome even at that age, acting up for the camera. Here was Peter, concentrating on some essay and not noticing that his photo was being taken. James and Sirius; one of their frequent wresting matches that inevitably disturbed the whole common room. James playing Quidditch; Peter eating candy in Hogsmeade; Sirius and his girlfriend of the week; Sirius and Peter playing chess; James laughing at him from behind his own camera.
One of him; his friends had borrowed the camera, claiming he couldn't have an album of their term and not be in it himself. One of all four of them sprawled sleepily across various sofas and chairs by the fire after a night of running through the grounds. Another of all four, but they had known that one was being taken and were all smiling and waving to the camera. Who had he cornered to take that photo? It might even have been Lily; even when she and James had been at their worst, she had always been civil to him.
He knew he should not torment himself with these windows into yesterday, into the happiest times of his life, but he could not help it. Something made him keep turning the pages. Here were his parents, before their estrangement, though you could still see the tired, stressed lines of the years of worry and fear he had caused them. He and James had both stopped taking the cameras to school after that first, obsessive term, but there were still a few photos from the holidays. Sirius fishing. None of them had ever imagined he had the patience to sit still for so long, though it was true that his attention wavered even then. He talked James into trying it for himself; here he was, looking thoroughly bored and plainly mocking his best friend.
They were getting older. Christmas at the Potter's house; that had been in their seventh year, hadn't it? Yes, because there was Lily, with her arm around James. And, ah yes, the cameras had made a reappearance at school for their final term.
The leaving feast, oh, that had been a fun day. There they were (Lily behind the camera again), all four of them raising their glasses in salute. The Marauders had been determined to go out with a bang; they had bought Hogsmeade's entire stock of fireworks for the occasion. How they had laughed, seeing the Slytherins duck and curse as Catherine wheels and rockets zoomed over their heads to the ceiling, James and Sirius standing on their seats to conduct the explosions. They had lit up the Great Hall for hours.
And then, of course, an over-enthusiastic firecracker had zoomed straight at Sirius, knocking him from the chair. He had taken Remus and several innocent bystanders with him as he toppled over, much to James and Peter's amusement. There they were, laughing their heads off, their cheeks flushed. And here was Sirius, helping him back to his feet. Overcome with end-of- school spirits, perhaps, he had kissed Remus soundly in front of the entire school. Yes, Lily had got a picture of that too. And of James cheering.
How had he forgotten that day? Even without the photos, he would have thought it would have stuck in his mind.
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The whole school was watching as Sirius made a spectacle of them both. Remus felt his cheeks burning. The other three people who had been knocked from the table were goggling at them as they got to their own feet. He thought he could hear James cheering. Yes, he realised as Sirius pulled away, leaving him trembling slightly, yes, that was definitely James cheering. And - oh God! - the click click of Lily using his camera.
"Um..." he managed. "Not that I didn't enjoy that, but..." He gestured helplessly at the packed hall. "I was under the impression we were going to be discreet?"
"Oh, I don't care!" Sirius sounded gleeful, pushing his dark hair from his face. At least he seemed to have gone a bit red as well. Often nothing seemed to faze him. He pulled Remus into one of his fierce hugs, and gave him another kiss, though thankfully - both for his embarrassment and his knees - this one was much briefer. "I love you, Moony, and I don't care who knows it."
Remus had not been sure he heard right, over all the noise from the fireworks and their audience, but later he had gone over it in his head and realised that he had not been mistaken. Sirius had just said he loved him.
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He shut the album with a snap and sighed, not going on to the photos of his days after Hogwarts. Reminiscing, he scolded himself. You *must* be getting old. What good would it do him? If he ever did meet Sirius again - unlikely - there would be no conversations about the old days. It was Sirius' fault those days had ended, and he would see Sirius pay for it. Even if it broke his heart to do so.
Rating: PG
A/N: More like the last chapter; little vignettes of the Marauders. Incidentally, if anyone knows how to make italics come up on the site, I'd be grateful. I know I've seen them on other fics, but mine never seem to stay there and it's starting to bug me. Asterisks are all very well, but they spoil the effect sometimes (or I think so, anyway). I write in Word, if that makes a difference.
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Remus was packing again, though with rather more care than last time. All of his belongings did not quite fit into one suitcase any more; he had already selected which books he would take and which he would have to leave behind. Hanging on the door to the wardrobe he left the clothes he would wear tomorrow; all the rest were neatly folded and ready to go into his case. The Hogwarts Express left at eleven, and he had to get down to London first. It would be an early start.
The letter had been from Dumbledore, of course. He had always written occasionally, even when he ceased to hear from the rest of the Order, from anyone else he had thought of as friends back then. Oh, Sturgis Podmore popped round every year or so, to check he was still alive - Sturgis said that was not the purpose of his visits, but it may as well have been - and Hestia Jones turned up on the odd occasion, usually with a present of something useful. She still seemed to feel guilty that she had not been able to cope with him, that full moon so long ago.
He did not blame her; he never had. It had always surprised him when people *did* manage to deal with what Sirius had termed 'the werewolf thing', rather than when they did not. He had friends in the village now, but they were all Muggles, and what they did not know would not hurt them, or so he prayed.
He looked at his suitcase. He had not used it for, what, twelve years now, but those few months of swapping spare room for spare room and couch for couch had taken their toll. It looked much the worse for wear, and he was not sure it would stay shut once it was full.
He ran his fingertips sadly over the peeling writing. Professor R J Lupin. Had they guessed, when they gave it to him, that their joke would turn out to be true? It had been a gift from James, Sirius and Peter, when they left Hogwarts after their N.E.W.T.s. From James and Sirius, just because they felt like it, but from Peter to say thank-you. That was why they had added the Professor to his name; he had always tutored Peter, helped him when he struggled to keep up with James and Sirius. And when he had been made Prefect, he had helped the younger Gryffindors, too; those who had been brave enough to ask for the help.
He still remembered the day he had got the Prefect badge along with his usual Hogwarts letter. As had become tradition by then, the four of them had spent the last two weeks of the holidays with James and his parents. James' mother had brought their letters in, pausing to tell James off for singing raucously at the breakfast table.
"You know what they say," she had said solemnly. "If you sing before breakfast, you'll cry before night." She had always been one for the old sayings. She came out with two or three a day.
They had opened their letters, and James, Sirius and Peter had begun comparing the new books they would need. When they had noticed his silence, they looked around to see him staring in shock at the red and gold badge on the table.
"Prefect," he had said hoarsely. "He made me a Prefect, even though..." He did not have to say even though what; they always understood. James and Sirius had both hugged him, the sort of spontaneous gesture they were always making and he had always treasured.
"You see," Sirius had said with his arm still around Remus' shoulders. "He doesn't see a monster, either."
Remus sighed, and shook himself out of his reverie. No, none of them had seen the monster hidden behind the handsome face and laughing blue eyes of Sirius Black. He opened the case and went to begin stowing his books carefully inside it, but it was not empty. Curiously, he took out the old, leather-bound book left in its base.
The bottom fell out of his stomach when he opened the book and saw his fifteen-year-old best friends waving up at him from the first page. He and James had both got cameras for Christmas that year, and had both brought them to school the next term, meaning to record their lives to look back on later.
Here was Sirius, devastatingly handsome even at that age, acting up for the camera. Here was Peter, concentrating on some essay and not noticing that his photo was being taken. James and Sirius; one of their frequent wresting matches that inevitably disturbed the whole common room. James playing Quidditch; Peter eating candy in Hogsmeade; Sirius and his girlfriend of the week; Sirius and Peter playing chess; James laughing at him from behind his own camera.
One of him; his friends had borrowed the camera, claiming he couldn't have an album of their term and not be in it himself. One of all four of them sprawled sleepily across various sofas and chairs by the fire after a night of running through the grounds. Another of all four, but they had known that one was being taken and were all smiling and waving to the camera. Who had he cornered to take that photo? It might even have been Lily; even when she and James had been at their worst, she had always been civil to him.
He knew he should not torment himself with these windows into yesterday, into the happiest times of his life, but he could not help it. Something made him keep turning the pages. Here were his parents, before their estrangement, though you could still see the tired, stressed lines of the years of worry and fear he had caused them. He and James had both stopped taking the cameras to school after that first, obsessive term, but there were still a few photos from the holidays. Sirius fishing. None of them had ever imagined he had the patience to sit still for so long, though it was true that his attention wavered even then. He talked James into trying it for himself; here he was, looking thoroughly bored and plainly mocking his best friend.
They were getting older. Christmas at the Potter's house; that had been in their seventh year, hadn't it? Yes, because there was Lily, with her arm around James. And, ah yes, the cameras had made a reappearance at school for their final term.
The leaving feast, oh, that had been a fun day. There they were (Lily behind the camera again), all four of them raising their glasses in salute. The Marauders had been determined to go out with a bang; they had bought Hogsmeade's entire stock of fireworks for the occasion. How they had laughed, seeing the Slytherins duck and curse as Catherine wheels and rockets zoomed over their heads to the ceiling, James and Sirius standing on their seats to conduct the explosions. They had lit up the Great Hall for hours.
And then, of course, an over-enthusiastic firecracker had zoomed straight at Sirius, knocking him from the chair. He had taken Remus and several innocent bystanders with him as he toppled over, much to James and Peter's amusement. There they were, laughing their heads off, their cheeks flushed. And here was Sirius, helping him back to his feet. Overcome with end-of- school spirits, perhaps, he had kissed Remus soundly in front of the entire school. Yes, Lily had got a picture of that too. And of James cheering.
How had he forgotten that day? Even without the photos, he would have thought it would have stuck in his mind.
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The whole school was watching as Sirius made a spectacle of them both. Remus felt his cheeks burning. The other three people who had been knocked from the table were goggling at them as they got to their own feet. He thought he could hear James cheering. Yes, he realised as Sirius pulled away, leaving him trembling slightly, yes, that was definitely James cheering. And - oh God! - the click click of Lily using his camera.
"Um..." he managed. "Not that I didn't enjoy that, but..." He gestured helplessly at the packed hall. "I was under the impression we were going to be discreet?"
"Oh, I don't care!" Sirius sounded gleeful, pushing his dark hair from his face. At least he seemed to have gone a bit red as well. Often nothing seemed to faze him. He pulled Remus into one of his fierce hugs, and gave him another kiss, though thankfully - both for his embarrassment and his knees - this one was much briefer. "I love you, Moony, and I don't care who knows it."
Remus had not been sure he heard right, over all the noise from the fireworks and their audience, but later he had gone over it in his head and realised that he had not been mistaken. Sirius had just said he loved him.
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He shut the album with a snap and sighed, not going on to the photos of his days after Hogwarts. Reminiscing, he scolded himself. You *must* be getting old. What good would it do him? If he ever did meet Sirius again - unlikely - there would be no conversations about the old days. It was Sirius' fault those days had ended, and he would see Sirius pay for it. Even if it broke his heart to do so.
