Disclaimer: Everything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, and am making no profit.

Setting: This story starts a couple of weeks after the end of GoF, but after that goes a little AU.

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Chapter 17: Red Curtains

Sirius returned to the dormitory in defeat.

Why, oh why, had he given James the Marauder's Map? He should have snatched it from Remus and used it himself. Instead, he'd let James be the one to talk to Fred. James, who had no idea what was really going on and would never in a million years get Fred to reveal anything useful.

Sirius had given them a little time - at Remus's suggestion - before going to find the room they'd met in empty. He'd then made a mad search for the pair, gripped by the sudden certainty that time was running short, but had - not surprisingly considering the sheer volume of hiding places within the castle - been unsuccessful.

Sirius hadn't had to search the castle for anyone in over a year - the map had always been available - so the unfruitful search had him doubly frustrated. He'd always suspected there to be a good reason for keeping James happy, and now he knew it was to keep him from running off with the Marauders Map.

He sank into his four-poster with a sigh and stared at the ceiling, unsurprised to find it spinning. He was drained and clearly his head had now given up for the night. He'd missed dinner. He closed his eyes and let the room turn, allowing blissful darkness to take his mind. Everyone had a limit and Sirius had reached his.

"Um … Sirius?"

"Gah!" Sirius leaped up, his bed bouncing under his weight, his wand flying into his hand to be pointed at … Peter … whose wide-eyed face was poking out between the red velvet curtains of his own bed.

"Are you alright?" he asked, concerned.

Sirius felt very stupid. He lowered his wand. " How long have you been here?" he asked tiredly. He'd thought the room empty. "And where have you been all afternoon?" he added, suddenly feeling Peter's absence from the afternoon's events.

"I came in at curfew," Peter answered helpfully. "I was here when you walked in. McGonagall gave me a wand. I came back ages ago to see if anyone found Harry, but you were all off somewhere, so I went to the Library. Where is everyone?"

Sirius settled back down on his bed and closed his eyes, feeling the tension slide from his body as blankness took him again. "Remus is with Harry," he slurred. They're at Hagrid's. James is with Fred … maybe."

"Oh," said Peter, sounding disappointed. "I was hoping someone got my wand back." He seemed forlorn. Caught up in his own problems, Sirius found himself unsympathetic. "Are you sure you're alright?" Peter asked again, and Sirius realised Peter was feeling out of the loop, digging for a narrative of whatever it was he'd missed.

"No - " Sirius admitted.

The dormitory door swung open, saving Sirius from needing to elaborate, and in came Fred, his gaze flying over the room to rest coldly on Peter. "Sirius, I need to talk to you," he said abruptly, his eyes never leaving Peter's face.

"Where's James?" asked Sirius rudely, forgetting momentarily his desperate need to speak with Fred. He was tired now, and not in the mood for Fred's accusing stares, whomever they were directed at.

"No idea," said Fred. "But we should talk. Elsewhere."

Peter was nonplussed. "You can talk to me too," he said defensively, and now Sirius was sympathetic. Fred had been perfectly amiable with Peter before this moment, but was now regarding him like something best squashed. Realising that the focus of Fred's apparent hatred seemed to have shifted, Sirius suddenly found himself very curious as to what Fred might have to say. He nodded and stood.

"Sirius!"

"I'll be back Peter."

They left a disgruntled Peter behind.

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"Isn't that a broom closet?" asked Fred with furrowed brows.

"No," Sirius replied, emphasizing the word as though Fred were slow, "It's the Butterbeer room."

Sirius sauntered in first, snatched a bottle from the closest shelf and guzzled half of it down in one go. Fred locked the door behind them and turned to regard Sirius apprehensively.

"So," said Sirius, crossing his arms, smugly inviting Fred so say his piece. Something about Fred's manner was telling him he had the upper hand here, and he was planning to milk it for all it was worth.

To his annoyance, Fred ignored him for a moment, casually lifting a bottle and examining the ingredients on the label. Then he looked Sirius in the eye. "I owe you an apology," he said frankly.

"For what?" asked Sirius. "Specifically."

"I had you wrong," Fred admitted. "I can't say why - timelines and all that - but Harry said some things that put you in different light, so I'm sorry."

He held out a hand, obviously hoping Sirius would forgive and forget without a full explanation. Sirius just stared at it. "If you're sorry," he said slowly, "Tell me how James dies."

Fred withdrew the hand. "Can't," he said in a tone that brooked no argument, reminding Sirius, quite infuriatingly, of his brother Regulus when Sirius has suggested that they defy their family together.

"Tell me why you had me wrong then," he said bitterly, choosing to come back to James in a moment - if Fred was going to put up a brick wall on that topic, Sirius would try attacking it later from a different angle - "You owe me that."

"I can't say."

Sirius now had the distinct impression he'd somehow lost his upper hand, or had perhaps never really had one to begin with, and that made him angry. "What would you do if someone told you your twin was going to die?" he huffed harshly.

"I'd try to save him of course," said Fred, in an infuriating reasonable way. "I understand - "

"Do you?" Sirius interrupted bitterly, taking another swig of butterbeer, choosing to ignore for the moment that Fred, despite his apparent calm, had turned quite pale. Somewhere in the back of Sirius's tired mind, he registered that Remus's words about James dying for a greater cause seemed to be ringing true. And just then, another rather horrible piece of the puzzle fell into place.

"What about Peter?"

Fred stiffened. "What about him?"

"You had it wrong," said Sirius. "Whatever you thought I did, you had it wrong. It was Peter. Peter's done something. The way Harry reacted to him before, it wasn't just dislike, it was instinct, and he was looking at that picture of James and Peter. Peter did something that led to James's death! Fred. What did he do?! What did you think I did?!"

He'd lunged forward to grip Fred by the collar of his robes and Fred now looked to be somewhere between panic and fury. "Get off me!" He shoved Sirius away. "Stop asking about this Sirius," he said. "Just leave it alone." He fled the room before Sirius could say any more.

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Peter was feeling hardly done by. What had happened? He hadn't done anything wrong, but for some reason he was being left alone in the dormitory while the rest of them were out, presumably changing history without him.

Something told him it was Harry's fault that he'd been cut from the loop. Harry had said something to Fred. Fred had been nice enough before, but now?

The dormitory door creaked open to admit - as though conjured from Peter's own musings - Fred, who dragged himself wearily to his bed, pulled off his shoes and jumper as though planning to go to sleep, but then stopped in order to stare at Peter in a most disconcerting way, as though was unpleasantly surprised with his appearance and couldn't tear his eyes away. The silence was deafening.

The door creaked open again, this time revealing Harry in the doorway. He peered around the room before also settling his eyes on Peter - those cold eyes. He then exchanged a dark look with Fred. "Where's my Dad?" he demanded.

"I … had a talk with him," said Fred hesitantly. "It shouldn't effect the timelines, but he said he needed to think about … things." He looked as though he wanted to say more, but a significant look at Peter made it clear why he would not.

Harry nodded, accepting this, and wandered to Sirius's bedside table from which he took parchment and quill. He then began writing even as he walked to his own bed, propping himself up on the headboard and closing the curtains to hide himself from view.

Peter grunted. He didn't like being left alone in the room with these two. It didn't feel safe somehow, and now Fred had gone back to staring at him. He shifted uncomfortably, then drew his own curtains and snuck beneath his covers, pulling the blankets to his chin. He fancied he could still feel Fred's gaze on the curtains however, and continued to fidget, unable to relax.

A minute later the door creaked open again.

"Fred," Peter heard Remus say in acknowledgement.

"Lupin," said Fred.

"Did Harry get back alright?"

"Yeah. He's in bed."

"James? Sirius?"

Silence. Then - "I expect they'll be back any minute now."

"Right." Remus yawned loudly. "Well, I'm for bed."

"G'night"

"Night."

Peter listened as the curtains closed around two beds and let out a relieved sigh. Remus was here. As long as Remus was here, Peter was safe. He drifted off to sleep.

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Half an hour passed before the door opened again, and if anyone had been watching they might have wondered at the remarkable way in which it opened and closed on its own.

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Half an hour more and James and Sirius were creeping quietly in, having found each other in the commonroom on their way back to the dormitory.

"They're all asleep," James whispered.

"Mmm," Sirius replied. "Well, it's late. I think I'll collapse now too."

Neither moved toward his bed. Sirius just stood there looking miserable, and James found himself compelled to say something comforting, floundering about for words that might close the uncomfortable distance that had come between them since their earlier argument. Sirius got in first, however, lunging at James and gripping him in a hug so tight that James's thought his ribs might break. A little overwhelmed, James put his own arms about his friend's shoulders and realised, with a sense of growing confusion, that Sirius was shaking. Then, without looking James in the eye, Sirius released his hold, retreated to his bed and drew the curtains.

James stood alone, feeling more than a little lost. Sirius knew something - something terrible beyond anything Fred had hinted at to James. The last person Sirius had hugged like that was Remus, right before his trial before the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Magical Creatures.

The room was quiet. A high contrast to the night before during which Peter had snored, Fred had tossed and turned and Harry had been crying out through his nightmares. James closed his eyes as he realised Harry had most likely been revisiting whatever it was he had experienced at Voldemort's hands, and decided he was glad he couldn't hear his son now.

He sat up and gazed at Harry's closed curtains, suddenly afraid of what he would find if he opened them. Harry, or some twisted, scarred version of Harry who would turn to James and tonelessly accuse him of leaving him to Voldemort?

Needing to dispel the creepy vision from his head, he abruptly moved to Harry's bed and pulled the red curtain aside. He stared. The bed was empty. A note lay on the pillow.

Dad,

I've taken your cloak and broomstick. I'll be gone awhile. Can't risk changing the timelines any more. I'm tempted too much. I'll be back when the potion is ready.

I love you.

Harry.

Lily awoke to a high-pitched beeping. "A few more minutes," she mumbled, trying to roll away. She then remembered that she was at Hogwarts, where no one had alarm clocks, and that James had charmed her hand mirror to beep when he wanted to speak to her.

She blinked the sleep from her eyes and reached for the offending object, ready to rip into James for his thoughtlessness waking her at this hour, but the words died in her throat as she flipped it open, her heart twisting painfully as she saw that James's eyes were red and puffy. It was a shocking sight. She'd never seen him cry before.

"Meet me in the room of requirement," he choked out before snapping his own mirror closed, leaving her staring at her own reflection, still half asleep and trying to comprehend.

Then, quietly donning cloak and shoes, she slipped from the room.