To be honest, I miss the level of interactivity provided by this website, so I'm going to cheat a bit and post the opening, non-offensive chapters of some of my old stories (that are still being worked on - sign - it never ends) with a link to my website if you want to read the jucier bits. Please be responsible in your reading. I write extremely graphic slash with quite a bit of angst, violence, and language thrown in, so please avoid my work if that sort of thing offends you. Otherwise, read away, enjoy, let me know what can be better, let me know what makes you happy.
Thanks,
Patricia.
Chapter One: It's Only Rock n' Roll (But I Like It.)
Would you think the boy is strange? Ain't he strange?
I said I know it's only rock 'n roll but I like it
I know it's only rock 'n roll but I like it, like it, yes, I do
Oh, well, I like it, I like it, I like it
I said can't you see that this old boy has been a lonely?
-The Rolling Stones (1974)
A Year Before the End of it All
"Fuck!" Sirius yowled, drawing his hand from the bowels of the Muggle radio on the table before him. He'd been trying to reconfigure and enchant the guts of the damned thing for months now so that it would actually work at the school. Two terms without his music would be unbearable. And now the ungrateful thing had gone and bit him. Blood dribbled down his thumb and he scowled at the deep gash there.
"Did Padfooties get a boo-boo?" James trilled from the bed, not looking up from his Transfigurations text.
Sirius swirled around in a halo of hair and slouch and glower, "One more time, James, one more time and I'm removing your face."
"Does Padfooties want a kiss to make it better?" James asked in the same sickly tone, his face practically wedged into the center of the book to keep Sirius from seeing his delighted grin. Tormenting a frustrated Sirius was always a cause for celebration.
"Not from you; I'd probably become diseased. The places that mouth has toured . . ."
"Yeah, let Remus lick it instead," Peter said from the bed on the far side of the room, "He's the other dog, after all."
"Wolf, thank you!" Remus spluttered. He was half under his own bed, scrounging around for heaven knew what, "As if a creature as noble as a wolf would stoop to consorting with a mangy, flea-ridden-"
Gesturing to Peter and James to keep quiet, Sirius rose to his feet and slunk across the room, eyes glittering with wicked delight. Remus kept up his anti-dog diatribe, completely unaware that Sirius Black was at it again.
Sirius crouched over his hapless victim, twitching as he tried to hold back helpless laughter. He had to wait for exactly the right moment . . .
"And even if I did lick his stupid boo-boo, he'd probably insist on licking me back, and with Sirius it turns into biting, it always turns into fucking biting, and the last thing I need is another-"
"RABIES!" Sirius howled, then lunged and, true to form, bit the patch of salty skin that showed above Remus's Muggle jeans.
"OW!" Remus roared, "You BITCH!" There was a solid thump as his head cracked into the underside of his bed, and Sirius was off him, whirling like a dervish at his own cleverness, eviscerated finger forgotten.
Remus wriggled out from under the bed, curly brown hair festooned with dust bunnies, scowling at the other boy. "Not funny," he said, rubbing his offended head, "That's the third time tonight."
"Does Moony-Woony have a boo-boo?" James cooed from the bed. Sirius and Remus locked eyes, then attacked as one, diving onto the dark haired boy and bearing him off the bed and onto the floor with a loud thud.
"Transfigurations text in the back, Transfigurations text in the back!" James shrieked, trying simultaneously to remove the book and fight his way out from under Sirius and Remus, "I'm losing feeling in my legs! Peter, some help here!"
"Forget it," Peter said, "I still have the bruises from last time." He hopped onto James's bed and peered cheerfully at the scuffle, "Besides, this is much more of a spectator sport anyway." James aimed a kick at his head but missed and Peter gave him the finger.
Sirius growled warningly, the devilish light still in his eyes. "No," James said, "No, no, no."
"Oh yes James," said Remus, "You have tampered with forces you do not understand. You have awakened the beast."
"No, no, no, no," James begged, "No, I won't tease you anymore."
"He lies," Remus said, "How does that made you feel, Padfoot?" Sirius growled even more loudly, trying to make himself look especially maniacal. James was caught somewhere between begging for his life and laughing hysterically as he twisted on the floor, trying to escape. "Tragic," Remus sighed, "You're dead Prongs, for you have awakened the fury known as . . . Old Yeller."
James yowled and Sirius lunged, nailing him good on the shoulder. "DAMMIT!" James hollered as Remus and Sirius leapt up and took refuge on Peter's bed, "Why me? Why do I get stuck rooming with a biter, a shapeshifter, and . . . and . . . a useless second whose American cousin sends him shite books about rabid dogs!"
"You forgot Chas O'Shea," Remus said in a matter-of-fact tone, "He lives here too."
"I liked Old Yeller," Peter said reflectively, "Especially when the dog died in the end."
"Presence of two canines!" Sirius yelled from the bed.
"I'm not a common canine, you cur!" Remus said with indignation, knocking Sirius to the floor. Sirius laid there in a tumble of long legs and dark hair before snaking a fine-fingered hand around Remus's ankle and dragging him off the bed with a howl of triumph. Remus scrambled for purchase but wound up landing on Sirius's ribs instead.
"Bugger!" Sirius yelled, "I need to breathe, you know!" Deeper around him - gods help me he smells so good, Sirius thought a little bit desperately as they tussled, And his eyes . . .dammit, Sirius, think about something else. Think about Alice Groan. Those incredible eyes, that hair, she has Remus beat. He stopped fighting Remus to think about his girlfriend, to picture her unwaveringly in his mind's eye before he proceeded to kick Moony's ass. Unfortunately, it was taking a while to get that mental picture nice and clear.
Remus took advantage of his distraction and pinned him. "Ten points for the wolf," he said in Sirius's ear, and Sirius turned his head to glare. Regrettably, that brought Remus into sharp proximity, also known as snogging distance, and every thought in Sirius's head about green eyes suddenly evaporated. Brown, he thought, brown with a lot of moss green and little gold flecks, yes, that's definitely the way to go. They were breathing hard, way too hard, and James appeared over the top of Sirius's bed to investigate the sudden silence.
"Are you two oh . . . uh . . ."
"The most deadly form of combat," Remus said, "Staring contest. Any second now I'll be vaporizing Sirius's brain with my glare . . . or what passes for Sirius's brain, anyway."
"Hey!" Sirius yelled, and they were at it again, rolling and thudding into whatever piece of furniture happened to get into their way, Remus coming out on top again by somehow managing to stuff most of Sirius's upper body under his bed.
"Remus," Sirius said,suddenly calm, "However can you hope to find anything when all the shit you own is stuffed under your bed?"
"Because if I put it in my trunk, I have to fold it. See a bottle of ink anywhere?" Remus asked, and a second later it shot out from under the bed and bounced off his knee. "Thanks."
Sirius emerged from under the bed, disheveled and grinning, sporting his own collection of dust bunnies. "Two wins," he said with an exaggerated yawn, "Not bad, for an elitist bitch."
Remus narrowed his eyes dangerously. "Stray."
"Snobbish prat."
"Mongrel."
"Children, children," James sighed, "In case you've forgotten we have work to do this term."
Sirius let out an ungodly shriek. "Oh not the bloody O.W.L.s again!" he howled in his most melodramatic voice, "Anything but the O.W.L.s!"
"Well," James admitted, "The O.W.L.s too. But," he held up his Transfigurations text, "Padfoot's idea about the map was fucking brilliant, and I'm determined we'll have it by the end of term. Sneaking around under the Invisibility Cloak is just too risky."
"But I thought you liked it when Remmie copped a feel," Sirius said in a falsetto voice.
"If anyone cops a feel, it's you," Remus snorted, "You're all hands and hair and mouth, Padfoot."
There was a moment of startled silence, and Sirius regarded his friend closely. That had almost had the feeling of a confession to it. But Remus was as straight as the day was long, at least as far as Sirius could tell. They'd passed Godwin Goyle and . . . who was it? . . . Evans Rosier, that prissy, prancing little bitch, locked in a deep kiss in the hall.
"Sickening," Remus had hissed as soon as they passed.
"What, the kiss?" Sirius asked, "Or the guys?" Of course, men on men disgusted him too; it was unnatural, as his father had told him so many times. Seeing Goyle and Rosier like that turned his stomach.
"Crap like that makes me ill. Take me out behind the castle and toss me a death curse if you ever see me doing anything like that, okay?"
"Avada Kedavra and a shoddy burial in Hagrid's vegetable patch. Only the best for you, my love."
"You're a real pal, Sirius."
Yeah . . . and real pals don't think what I'm thinking right now. Sirius sighed dramatically, "All hands and hair and mouth," he said, "If I were a girl, I'd fuck me." Everyone laughed at that, and Remus's passing strange comment was forgotten. They were the Marauders, and they would be bound together through everything, through hell and high water. Far be it from me, Sirius thought, to let Remus know exactly what's going on in this head of mine. I can't risk losing all this; I can't.
But unfortunately, Sirius was born and made to take risks – it was his modus operandi. The biggest risk of his young life would arrive one year later, in the eyes and throat of a delicate, brutalized boy named Severus Snape.
Chapter Two: Alabama Song (Whiskey Bar)
Show me the way
To the next whiskey bar
Oh, don't ask why
Oh, don't ask why
For if we don't find
The next whiskey bar
I tell you we must die
I tell you we must die
I tell you, I tell you
I tell you we must die
-The Rolling Stones (1974)
One Year Later
Sirius Black was at it again. He banged into the dorm past eleven, half-hysterical, emotions on the border between laughter and fury. "Luminae!" he snapped, turning on the lights and shutting the door before storming over to James's bed. "Wake up," he said, yanking the curtains open, "We're going out."
"Huh?" James said sleepily.
"Out, you know, someplace that isn't here."
"What time is it?"
"Early. Late. I don't care. We're going out." Sirius got up and disappeared into the darkness of their dorm. James sighed. He knew better than to argue with Sirius when he was like this – when he got riled up over something he could turn very nasty. Lily had probably pissed him off again. James didn't know why they bothered; they hardly seemed able to stand one another. Not to mention the fact that you want her for yourself . . . dammit. He shook the thought away and climbed from his bed, groping for his glasses at the same time. The edges of the blurry red velvet curtains came into sharp focus. Across the room, he could hear the hiss of Sirius's voice and Peter's tired murmur. Just Lupin to collect, then they were gone. Where, I wonder? "Out" is pretty disturbingly ambiguous. Sirius went to Remus last; with the others awake, he was less likely to do something stupid. His head was in the bad place tonight, the place that left him regretful in the morning. This is a sick little infatuation, Sirius baby, he told himself, and if you don't watch it, you'll fuck everything up.
Sick, bad, mad, stupid, but he couldn't help himself – he woke Remus up the way he always did when he decided a nighttime foray was in order. He lifted the corner of the duvet and slid into bed beside him. He moved his head on the pillow until they were nose to nose, Remus's breath ghosting across his mouth. "Wake up Moony," he said softly. The bed was dreamily warm and comforting, and it would have been a lot nicer just to stay here, just to dream himself out of this world for an hour or two. Maybe in his sleep he wouldn't have to lie so stiff, wouldn't have to keep a paranoid three inches between Remus's body and his own. I think . . . I think I just might feel safe that way, if he would hang onto me for a while and keep me from thinking about the bad place. Oh dammit Sirius! No infatuations! Remus does not like boys, and you do not like boys . . . you've had a ton of beautiful girlfriends, you'll have a ton more, and you like it . . . you like it with women, you don't want boys . . .( well . . . except this one) . . . Deanna Brown, you haven't had her yet . . . dated her yet . . . she's beautiful . . . (but not as beautiful as he is; her mouth doesn't have that cupid's bow upper lip and her lashes don't lay like that on her skin) . . . oh please make this a passing thing . . . I can't be in this place . . . if he ever finds out . . . Shut up, Sirius! Just shut the fuck up! Don't think about it, don't think anything at all . . . "Come on, Moony. It's wakey-wakey time."
"Hmmmmmm?" Remus opened his eyes and smiled a little bit, rubbing his head tiredly against the pillow. "What're you doing, Pads?"
"Collecting you. We're going out."
"Mmm-hmmm." Remus drifted back into sleep, and Sirius sighed with annoyance. Remus was a notoriously deep sleeper, and when he had a cold his snores threatened to rattle the castle down. He was also infamous for being extremely grumpy upon awakening, and everyone in Gryffindor had learned to give him a wide berth first thing in the morning. But tonight, Sirius was agitated enough to risk Remus's wrath. He needed him to come along tonight. It was a keen, sharp sensation, utterly unpleasant. Sirius took it out on his hapless roommate.
"Werewolves don't hibernate, Moony! Get up!" He punctuated his remark with a vicious poke to the ribs.
Remus roared, starting from bed so suddenly that Sirius was almost knocked to the floor. "What the hell are you doing?" Remus demanded, "That hurt! I was fucking asleep, you know."
"I told you," Sirius said, sliding out from under the covers and rising to his feet, "We're going out."
"I'm not going anywhere but back to bed," Remus snapped, "And sleeping people don't know it when you tell them you're going out, idiot."
"You responded. You said, 'What are you doing in my bed, you sexy bitch?'"
Remus froze. "Really? I said that? I talk in my sleep sometimes. I told you that, didn't I? Mom used to have whole conversations with me and I'd never remember a word. I must have thought you were someone else."
"What?" Sirius pouted, "I'm not sexy?"
"I'm not having this conversation," Remus said haughtily, "Because I'm going back to bed."
"What's all the noise for?" Chas O'Shea asked, poking his head between the drapes of his own bed, "It's hard for a man to sleep with all your flopping about."
Four's good, five's great, O'Shea's Irish, he's in. "We're going out," Sirius said, turning to face him, "Wanna come?"
"Lost your minds, haven't you?" Chas asked, "McGonagall's on the prowl tonight, and she's still in a wicked temper over the last bit of sneaking around you lot did."
"So are you coming?" Sirius asked, shaking back his heavy hair and resting his hand on his hip. Chas always responded well to the 'come hither' look, even if he was utterly straight. Sirius had that effect on a lot of people, men and women included.
"Yeah, all right," Chas said, then he was up and yanking off his pyjamas, completely unselfconscious. Sirius, James, and Peter whirled to face the opposite wall.
"Must you?" Peter asked in a pained voice.
"Prudes," Chas retorted.
Upon turning around, Sirius realized that Remus had taken advantage of Chas's diversion and slipped back into bed, pillow clapped firmly over his ears. With a growl of mock-rage, Sirius dove on him and commenced to beat him around the head. "You belting Remus?" Chas asked, jerking his robe over his head, "Not wise. He's going to be a right ogre if you keep it up."
"He's cutting into our drinking time," Sirius explained, then went back to trying to wrench the pillow from his friend's grasp.
"We're going drinking?" Chas cried enthusiastically, "Out of my way!" He leapt onto Remus's bed, sending Sirius thudding to the floor. Remus let out a muffled howl at the fresh assault.
"Wake up, amadàin!" Chas bellowed, "We're off to get bolloxed!"
"Brilliant!" Sirius said, "Holler!" He scrambled back onto the bed, beckoning to James and Peter. "Marauder emergency. All hands on Remus!" James pounced cheerfully and Peter followed, flattening Remus's kicking feet. Tangled up in his sheets with four not-precisely-dainty boys on top of him, Remus snarled with frustration.
"Get the hell off me, you bastards," he howled.
"Don't insult me mother!" Chas said with mock indignation, "Go gcreime cúnna ifrinn do bhall fearga!"
"Gaelic insult?" Sirius asked with delight. Luminitsa, his nanny, collected insults from other languages as a sort of hobby, and she'd passed some of the better phrases on to her ward, though well away from his parents' ears. Chas's phrase was a new one though.
"'May the hounds of hell gnaw your manly part,'" Chas said with a grin.
"I'll have to remember that," Sirius said, trying not to associate hounds with Remus's manly part. "My turn. Remus! Prende il suo obiettivo su, perra!"
"I don't think I can add anything," Peter said to James, "I only know English."
"Me too," James said with a grin, "But that's good enough for me. Moony! Move your bloody arse, you great wanker!"
Remus stopped struggling and pulled the pillow from his face. "Please," he groaned, "Get off me. I just want to sleep . . ."
Sirius slithered over him until his face was beside the other boy's ear. "Lily broke up with me," he said softly, "I just want to get out of here. Please, Moony?"
Remus made an annoyed sound. "Fine. Fine. Get off me." Everyone scattered and Remus rose to his feet, looking dignified and put-upon. "Since when do you speak Italian?" he asked Sirius, moving to scrounge in his trunk for his some Muggle clothes. Obviously, if they were going drinking, robes weren't going to cut it. "I thought you only spoke Yankee slang and poofey bitch."
"I am a master of many tongues," Sirius said airily, "Most of which are none of your business. However, I picked up the Italian from my nanny. She was half Italian and half Romani, you know. So very dramatic."
"I should have known you were raised by gypsies," Remus said, smirking and shrugging into a t-shirt, "And here we all were thinking there was no excuse for you. What was it you said to me?"
"Get your ass up, bitch."
"I should have known," Remus groaned, "And you, Chas. One more word about my genitalia and I'll rip your arm off and beat you to death with it."
Sirius winced. Remus must have caught the same implication I did . . .
Remus shucked off his pyjama bottoms and yanked on his jeans, no pants, Sirius noticed, politely pretending to look away, there's not going to be anything between me and Moony except denim. Scratch that. There's not going to be anything between me and Moony at all. We're Marauders. Marauders like girls. I like girls. I like Lily. Too bad she had to go and end it. Oh well. One more for the Sirius Black's Ex-Girlfriends Club. He wondered if such a thing existed. One more and I'll have enough for three Quidditch teams, he thought sourly.
"Chas," Remus said, pulling Sirius from his dark thoughts, "You can't go drinking like that."
Chas looked down at his emerald green robes with dismay. "I can't? But they're me best dress robes."
"Everyone will think you're wearing a dress," Remus said, "And this is going to be dangerous enough without drawing extra attention. It's not like we're going to Hogsmeade. Right, Sirius?"
"London," Sirius said firmly. He was dressed in a pair of faded old jeans gone soft as cotton that slouched around his waist and an equally worn t-shirt. Wearing robes made him miserable – his father had seen to that. During the week he was forced into the purgatory of black student robes, but on the weekends he insisted on Muggle garb, the rattier the better. People still gave him odd looks in the halls, Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, or whatever wizarding place they happened to be in, despite the fact that they'd seen him at it for six years. Sirius didn't care; he was used to being looked at. It got him into a few snarling matches with the prissier Slytherins, but nothing the Marauders couldn't handle. There had been hexes exchanged a time or two and genuine fights more often than that. Sirius was more likely to go in with his fists than his wand. James had a wicked right hook and Remus fought like a deranged Viking when one of his friends was threatened. Peter, smaller than all of them, clung to the edges of the group and shot curses at the Slytherins who looked tempted to fight unfairly. Peter probably knew more nasty little spells than the rest of them put together, but from what Sirius had heard, he was nothing compared to that wretched Slytherin, Snape. Rumor had it that Snape started at Hogwarts knowing more malicious tricks than most Seventh Years, and he was some sort of Potions prodigy as well. Gods, but I hate Slytherins, Sirius thought wearily, oh well, only one more year after this one and I'll never have to endure them again.
"Sirius!" Remus said, grabbing his arm, "You still with us?"
"Yeah," Sirius said, "Sorry."
"We need Muggle clothes for Chas. I got him my other jeans, but my t-shirts are all smelly."
"Argh," Chas said, "No smelly Lupin shirts for the likes of me, thanks."
Sirius opened his trunk and scrounged. Naturally the only thing clean was his Sex Pistols t-shirt. He tossed it to Chas with a dangerous glower. "Get one drop of Guinness on it, rip it, snag it, or even breathe on it wrong and the hounds of hell will be after your manly parts, Chas." Chas didn't know that Sirius himself had the ability to be that hound. The Irish boy was charmingly dense sometimes. He slept through most of their full moon outings, and no one seemed to find it necessary to tip him off.
"I can't wear this," Chas said.
"It's clean!" Sirius said indignantly.
"It's not that!" Chas said, flushing a bit, "I can't go walking around with the word sex across me chest."
"You'll go starkers in front of all your roommates but you can't have the word 'sex' across your chest?" James asked.
"No," Chas said, "I have standards and me Mum would kill me."
Sirius pointed to the Doors t-shirt he wore. "Look, this is your other option," he said, "James and Peter are wearing the only t-shirts they own, and Remus and I are fresh out of alternatives."
Chas perused the t-shirt with pursed lips. "Eh, he's not a bad lookin' bloke," he said, "Toss him over here."
Sirius skinned the shirt over his head, hoping it didn't smell like Lily's perfume. She'd hugged him goodbye in a comradely sort of way after breaking up with him. "I'd like to stay your friend," and all that. And with Tiger Lily, that might actually happen, Sirius thought, She was one of the good ones. Especially if my little intuition about who she's really interested in is right. He'd have to be stoned or stupid not to be with her, and she'll be just enough of a handful not to get boring. Set that aside for working on later . . .
Chas tossed the Sex Pistols shirt to Sirius, who yanked it over his head. Remus was looking at him with a strange expression on his face, and Sirius wanted to ask him what it was all about, but Chas turned off the lights at that moment and opened the door.
"How're we doing this?" James asked, eyes glinting.
"Floo powder," Sirius said, "I overheard McGonagall telling Flitwick that the fireplace in dungeon four is hooked into the network."
"I hate traveling by Floo Powder," James said with a grimace.
"Ah, the sacrifices we make for drink," Remus said, swinging a chummy arm around each of them. "Shall we go?"
There was no possibility of the five of them fitting beneath the Invisibility Cloak, so they used the Marauder's Map to avoid roving Professors and restless ghosts. "Peeves," Peter said, glaring at the trophy room on the map, where the tiny dot labeled with the poltergeist's name spun in circles, "I'm really going to do him in one of these days." The annoying ghost had picked him out in the hall and starting singing a song that included his name and the phrase, 'right buttery pig, nearly a squib.'
"You can't do in a ghost," Remus reminded him, "And James got him good, remember? Flicked that wad of gum right out of Deanna Brown's mouth and into Peeves' nose."
"I did tell you that was brilliant, didn't I James?" Sirius asked.
"Only about a hundred times," James said, "But I don't mind hearing it again."
"Conceited," Sirius sniffed.
James laughed. "Whatever you say, princess."
Sirius squawked in mock indignation before knocking three times of the chest of a suit of armor. The armor jumped aside with a noisy clang, revealing a tunnel that the boys darted through. This was by far the fastest route to the dungeons, but Argus Filch, the castle caretaker, had been awakened by the armor one too many times. He hadn't found the tunnel of course, but that was no reason to linger.
"Wait!" Peter said, stopping them suddenly, "I don't have any Muggle money."
"I do," James said.
"Me too," Remus and Sirius chorused.
"I always keep some on hand for emergencies like this," Sirius said, "I've got you covered, Pete. Don't worry. Besides, there's nothing like spending Mummy and Daddy's galleons on Muggle contraband and tipple. They'd be so proud."
Awkward silence followed Sirius's acid words, then Remus broke the silence.
"I'll get-" "I've got Chas," James said, drowning him out. He knew Remus's financial situation was a bad one, and his own family had more than enough money to spare. He would have gladly given Remus half the money in his personal vault, but Remus had that obsessive streak of pride that accepted no charity. Sirius's family came from old money and older traditions, something Pads despised. With his ratty Muggle clothing, wild hair, and too-slender build, he threw everything his parents offered back in their pointy, prejudiced faces. Still, the money kept coming and Sirius kept spending it gleefully on the things that would annoy them the most. Fat envelopes filled with galleons and drawn-out, tedious letters arrived every month or so by Owl Post. "They'll cut me off eventually, but not until I get my money's worth," Sirius said gleefully, "Let them think that they can buy me and mke me their little cash whore." Harsh words, but the rest of the Marauders knew the harsher words that Sirius endured from his father. Where his mother used guilt, his father used cruelty and the back of his hand.
Look at you. I can't even strike you like a real man. I have to beat you like a woman, a weakling, like the faggot that you are . . . Sirius shivered, his mouth remembering the taste of blood and bile. "Sirius?" James said, touching his arm.
"I'm fine, James," Sirius said quietly, "Are we off then?"
"Only if you let me buy a round," Remus said staunchly, determined to do his part. But he'd seen the darkness flicker across Sirius's face, and he exchanged a quick glance with James and Peter.
"Byron," Peter mouthed, and the others nodded. The night was going to be wild. Unbeknownst to Sirius, the other three Marauders developed "Byron" between them as a code word for Sirius when he embraced his dark side. Lord Byron,the poet, once described himself as mad, bad, and dangerous to know. Sirius, in his moments of darkest excess, frightened and exhilerated them all. James smiled to himself, but his smile hid hard edges. Sirius had a talent for being so wicked and fey and gorgeous that no one could resist him, and his unearthly looks and elbow-length tangle of wild hair only completed the package. Mad, bad, and dangerous; no wonder he gets everything he wants, James thought with a rueful smile, I'd be powerfully jealous if he wasn't my best friend.
"Can we please just get on with it," Chas begged, "A pint of Guinness is calling me name."
"Damn Irish and their chewable beer," Sirius said with a sigh as they set off down the tunnel.
Everything went as planned. They stepped from the fireplace in the storeroom of The Leaky Cauldron and slipped through the bar as casually as possible, heads down and moving fast. No one in the jocular crowd noticed them, and soon they were out on the streets and searching for a Muggle pub. "Lowers the chances of getting caught," James explained as Chas looked back at The Leaky Cauldron with longing, "Someone we know might've been there."
A few seconds later Sirius gave a yell of triumph and led them into The Rollicking Badger, which was doing a decent business. "If anyone makes any comments about our ages," Sirius muttered to the others, "I'll do a Confounding Charm on 'em."
Chas shook his head. "Underage magic performed in the Muggle world where it's also against the law to have a drink. I have to give you credit Sirius. You don't do things by halves."
Sirius favored him with a flourished bow, then they bellied up to the bar. Chas got his Guinness with a look of warm delight. James, Peter, and Remus took beers as well, but Sirius, after much lip-pursing and hair-tossing that made the barmaid blush, ordered a Snakebite and Black.
"What's that?" James asked.
"Half lager, half cider, and a touch of black current liqueur," Sirius said.
"Sounds wretched," Remus commented.
"It is," Sirius said with a grim smile, "But they get me tanked pretty fast." His drink, which had a pinkish tink to it, arrived a moment later. "Thanks, love," Sirius said to the girl, fixing her with his best smoldering gaze. She stammered a reply and hurried away.
"You're awful," James said with a chuckle.
"But of course," Sirius replied. He held his drink out to Remus. "Want some?"
Remus took a small sip, grimaced, and handed it back. "Wretched as predicted," he said, then swilled his mouth with beer.
They swung from pub to pub, Sirius downing drinks at a rate of two to one and staggering more and more every time he tried to stand. At the third bar he told them about the break up with Lily. "She said she'd had enough, whatever that meant," Sirius said with a scowl, "Threw out the 'friends' card too. Miserable. I was actually fond of her."
"What brought it on?" James asked, "Do you know?"
Sirius took a deep draught of his Snakebite before replying. "Something about how I seemed interested in her for all the wrong reasons and she wasn't up to being another hit on my list."
"Smart girl," Peter said and Sirius glared. "Well, you've had most of the Gryffindor girls above the age of fifteen, at least three quarters of Hufflepuff, about half of Ravenclaw, and a Slytherin or two."
And one professor, Sirius thought and shuddered. But he wouldn't say that out loud. It wasn't something he was proud of. "What's your point, Peter?"
"Lily knows better. She's seen the crash and burn of her predecessors."
"Yeah," Sirius said, "Smart girl. Let's go find another pub."
"We have to head back to school soon," Peter hissed to James. "Sirius is getting far too Byronic for us."
"I know," James said grimly. Sirius reeled down the street in front of them, one arm around Chas's shoulders, who was almost as bad off as him, and the other around Remus. He could barely walk at all, and the people who passed them started with a mixture of amusement and contempt. "Hey, Sirius," James called, moving to catch up to the others with Peter on his heels, "You ready to call it a night?"
Sirius whirled around, nearly sending Chas to the ground and making Remus stagger. "Jim!" Sirius said enthusiastically, "Just the man I was looking for!" He let go of Remus and took an unsteady step towards James, catching him around the neck and laughing hysterically.
"Sirius, we've got to get back to school," Peter said a little desperately.
Sirius ignored him completely. "About Lily," he said to James, poking him in the chest, "Told me she was interested in someone else. Didn't mention a name, but I think she was talkin' about you."
James turned red. "Oh no, Sirius, she couldn't have been. We've never said two words to one another."
"Nah, I've seen it," Sirius said cheerfully, "You look at her, she looks at you . . ." He chuckled, pushing himself upright. "She smiles at you, you smile at her . . ." He spun away and burst into song. "And we're on our way/No we can't turn back, babe/Yeah we're on our way/And we can't turn back."
James looked at him, startled. Sirius sang a little bit in the dorms sometimes - he was unrepentantly addicted to Muggle music – but hearing him like this, head thrown back and singing to the sky with his hair streaming down his back was something completely different. His voice was good, rich and deep with a slightly haunted tone to it.
"Jim sang that," Sirius said, stopping abruptly, pointing to Chas's shirt. "Jim, he's a genius."
"Genius or not, we've got to get going," James said, reaching for Sirius's hand.
Sirius avoided him more nimbly than his drunkenness should have allowed. "Oh show me the way to the next whiskey bar," he pealed into the night, "Oh, don't' ask why/Oh, don't ask why . . ."
A few people stopped to listen and clapped when Sirius paused. It was the worst thing they could have done; Sirius loved nothing more than an appreciative audience. A grand bow almost send him onto his head, but Remus steadied him, laughing as hard as Chas. A Muggle girl, stunningly pretty, caught Sirius's eyes and he was off again. "Hello, I love you/Won't you tell me your name . . ." He moved forward and caught the girl's hand. She wore flowers in her hair and she laughed delightedly as he swept her into his arms, snugging their hips together and rolling against her suggestively, the song still falling from his lips. He dipped her while her boyfriend glared, shooting a nasty smile at the hapless chap.
"He's going to get us in a fight," Peter moaned, "I can sense it. I left my wand at the castle, too."
"Sidewalk crouches at her feet/Like a dog that begs for something sweet/Do you hope to make her see you, fool?/Do you hope to pluck this dusky jewel?" His face was a millimeter away from the girls; he was practically singing the words into her mouth.
"If he kisses her, its over," James said with dismay. Remus was watching the show with narrowed eyes, Chas with frank amazement. Sirius danced as well as he sang.
With a mocking laugh, Sirius returned the flustered girl to her boyfriend, leaving her with a wild grin and a finger brushed against the tip of her nose. The boyfriend looked ready to kill, but James caught Remus's eye and they grabbed Sirius and hurried him away. The echoes of more clapping followed them down the street.
Sirius was completely gone, staggering, laughing, his mouth gone to mush as he tried to tell James and Remus how wonderful they were, his best friends, the Marauders. James walked with steady determination, helping Sirius up and down the curbs, grinning as he tried to make sense of the nonsensical words pouring from Sirius's his throat. "If nothing else," he remarked to Peter as they trundled along, "We have some wonderful blackmail now." Sirius gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek, still babbling. "Right," James said, turning to him, "You're completely right, Sirius. Keep walking; there's a good drunk." He hoped Sirius wouldn't make some comment about them being Animagi or about Remus being a werewolf. That would take a lot more explaining to Chas than he was willing to do. Chas, however, didn't seem to be absorbing much information. He was singing in Gaelic, a drinking song most likely, voice a pleasant tenor as he trailed them down the near-empty streets.
Sirius was babbling to Remus now, the two of them laughing hysterically, and Sirius went to bestow the same sloppy kiss on his other best friend. Remus was facing him, however, and Sirius kissed him square on the mouth. Everyone froze and James winced. Any second now, Remus was going to go ballistic.
Sirius let out a long, low moan of sheer desire, twining his arms around the other boy. Remus's eyes widened as Sirius pressed his tongue into his mouth. Oh shit, James thought, this is going to be bad.
He never could have predicted what happened next. Remus growled, wrapped his arms around Sirius, and closed his eyes, kissing back for all he was worth. Sirius caught Remus's hips and ground into him hard, tangling his fingers in Remus's hair. Remus bore them back against the wall beside James, Sirius's back meeting it with a thud. Neither one of them seemed to notice. Peter's mouth was hanging open and Chas had stopped singing.
"Holy shite!" he cried.
James had no idea how he got everyone back to The Leaky Cauldron. Remus and Sirius stopped to kiss every few feet, clinging to each other, legs tangling together, falling every few minutes. The door to the pub was locked, and James somehow managed to fish Sirius's wand from his back pocket (even around Remus's clinging hands) and unlock the door. "Alohomora!"
James cast the Floo Powder for them and called out the name of their destination, shoving them into the green flames. Please don't let one of them get knocked bloody unconscious – none of us are in a fit state to do any carrying. He saw Peter and Chas safely into the fire before jumping in himself.
The mouth on his was warm, soft, pliant, sweet, clever little tongue turning tricks and Sirius sucked it, felt its owner gasp. He had no idea who he was kissing, but he wanted it to go on and on. Something tickled in the back of his mind about the incongruous anatomy pressed up against his own, but the alcohol and kisses conspired to make that little tickle shut up. Another person's mouth on his had never felt so good before. He was going to keep this kissing up forever, lick out the mouth pressed on his until the day he died, accept the warm surge of tongue until . . . Sirius blacked out.
He woke up the next morning with a warm person spooned around him, heavy sleeping breaths on the back of his neck. This wasn't his bed; the sheets smelled like Remus. He eased carefully onto his back and turned his head to look at his companion. It was Remus. Oh fuck! They were still dressed, thank the heavens for that. Sirius struggled to lift Remus's heavy arm from his chest, the sudden movement making his head shriek with agony. He groaned and held still, trying to relax. Oh, you really botched it last night, didn't you Sirius? I don't even remember what the hell happened. Singing . . . some girl . . . kissing . . . what did I do?
Beside him, Remus mumbled and opened his eyes. His face broke into a wide, warm smile, despite his splitting head. "Hi," he said softly.
Sirius scowled. Remus didn't seem the least bit surprised to find him there. This can't be happening. Remus is straight; I know that for a fact. No matter how much I want him to want me, it's not going to happen. I don't really want it to happen. It's a stupid infatuation. I'm asking Deanna Brown out tonight. "What the hell happened last night?" he said, a little more harshly than he intended to. Remus stopped smiling, and for a second Sirius could have sworn he glimpsed the Wolf peering out of Remus's eyes.
"You got drunk off your arse, in mourning for your failed relationship with Lily," Remus said at last, his voice rimmed with frost, "You made a right fool of yourself too, singing in the streets and there was some Muggle girl-"
"Did I kiss her?" Sirius demanded, "I remember kissing someone."
Remus looked at him for a long moment. "Yeah," he said finally, looking away, "You kissed her."
"Did she ask me to call her?"
"No."
"Was she pretty at least?"
Remus shrugged. "Pretty enough," he said acidly, "You wouldn't have touched her otherwise."
"Why are we in bed together?"
"You passed out. We got you this far, then you collapsed on the bed and started snoring."
"Why didn't you sleep in my bed?"
"You collapsed on top of me."
"Oh. Sorry."
"You really don't remember anything else about last night? Not coming back by Floo Powder, trying to get through the passageway, getting caught by McGonagall-"
"McGonagall caught us?" Sirius groaned and closed his eyes, "How many detentions do we have?"
"Just one," Remus said with a grim little smile, "But it's in about half-an-hour. We're beating all the rugs today. Every rug in the castle. Out by the lake."
Sirius went pale. "Outside? But it's so bright . . ."
"No magic either."
Sirius whimpered. "I'm never drinking again," he muttered.
"Could you two keep it down?" Peter asked weakly. He was ashen-faced and pale, "I feel ruddy awful."
James sat on the side of his bed, his swimming head in his hands. "You should have seen McGonagall's face when she caught us," James said, "Sirius, you wouldn't stop singing. Then you asked McGonagall to dance. We lost about fifty house points last night."
"Only fifty?" Sirius asked, turning to look at him suspiciously.
"Yeah, you always were her favorite," James said with a wan smile.
"Please," Chas said hoarsely from the bed behind James. "Everyone go back to sleep."
"We have detention, remember?" James said.
Chas groaned. "Na ceithre rud is measa amù; ceann tinn, béal seirbh, intinn bhuartha, agus poca folamh. The four least useful things; a headache, a bitter mouth, a worried mind, and an empty pocket. I'm never drinking again either."
Later, as they slipped down the stairs bleary-eyed and headachy, Remus hung back to talk to James. "What happened last night?" James asked softly.
"We were drunk," Remus said, "And I have a feeling that . . . well, I have a feeling that if Sirius knew he was kissing me, he'd be pretty damn mad about it. You know how he is about . . . guys like that."
"Yeah," James said, "I'll talk to Chas and Peter, make sure they know not to say anything."
"Thanks."
"Come on," Sirius said irritably, waiting for them to catch up. "Too bad I blacked out," he continued as they walked down the hall, "I wish I'd asked for that girl's number. I could have called her next time we go to London."
"Why?" James asked, "She was just some girl you met in the street."
"Yeah," Sirius said, "But she was the best damn kisser I've ever met."
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