TWO: Eclipsed

You know it's really not surprising
I hold a force I can't contain

Somebody get me out of here
I'm tearing at myself
Nobody gives a damn about me
Or anybody else

--Garbage, "Medication"

Remus Lupin was a true Gryffindor. He knotted his own thumb into his tie eight times before giving up, and then only out of frustration. He knew it was an easy thing. Or that it should be. Muggles did it all the time.

"You're quite sure," said the dark-haired boy over his shoulder, "that you simply must wear this thing?"

James Potter had elected to go a much less formal route, skipping the notion of a tuxedo altogether. Although his burgundy velvet bell-bottoms were probably going to cause far more of an uproar than Lupin's crooked finger trap of a tie.

"Yes," Lupin huffed. "What's wrong with it? Enlighten me, O Disco Maestro."

"Oh, nothing," said James. "If you're one of those blokes in black that wear mascara and powder and sing whiny songs about how lousy their lives are."

Lupin blinked. So what if most of his clothes were black? They were easier to clean when they were only one color. The idea of mascara frightened him. He did wear powder, now and then, but only to even out the mottled, blotchy appearance that settled on him just before or just after the full moon. Very few people realized he was a werewolf, and he wanted to keep it that way.

And he was not. Into "new wave" or whatever it was James kept teasing him about. That was more Muggle insanity.

"Here," said James, going after Lupin with the powder brush from his kit. "You'll need more of it than that."

"Stop it!" He swatted at James in a rare display of temper, snagging the brush. "I'm serious."

"So I see," said James, mollified, brushing his hair out of his eyes. His cufflinks—outrageous acrylic knobs meant to look like diamonds—clattered a little as he did so. "I meant nothing by it. Sorry, mate."

"Me too," Lupin said. "Just nervous, I guess."

"Are you both going to fiddle with that all day?" Sirius was tetchy—he hated proper dress shoes, they hurt his feet—and when he got tetchy, he paced. "Look!" He jabbed a finger at the windows. "Sunshine! Sky! Happy little woodland creatures!"

James snorted at that one. "Fancy a spot of squirrel chasing, is that it, Padfoot?"

"Very funny. I want," griped Sirius, "to go outside, and do something interesting, and I want you to come along."

"What kind of interesting?"

"Mischief interesting," Sirius said shortly. He looked affronted. "As if there were some other kind of interesting."

"Yes," mumbled Lupin as he shrugged out of the tie. Again. "Yes, there is."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "She hates you," he said. "She hates me. She hates Gryffindor, and Quidditch, and mischief. I fail to see what's interesting about it."

James was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was standing directly between Sirius and Lupin. And that the subject of Narcissa Black was never neutral ground for very long. Remus had been interested in her since second year, and almost being trampled by her in the hall this morning hadn't done anything to quell his curiosity.

For his part, James wasn't afraid of an argument, but he wasn't eager for a shouting match, either. This stupid dance thing—Snowflake Festival, they were calling it--was supposed to be a chance for a bit of fun. Maybe they'd pull pranks once they got there, maybe they wouldn't. He might even try to find Lily on the dance floor at some point.

Provided, of course, that they all arrived in one piece.

"Right then," Lupin said. "I'm supposed to drop it and come along like a good boy because she's your cousin."

"She is in Slytherin." The words were soft and final. It was the wrong tone to take with Lupin at that moment.

"Jealous?" asked Lupin softly.

"What?" Sirius closed the distance between them in two long strides and hissed in his friend's ear. "You know perfectly well that this is a very bad idea. Lucius will rip you apart."

"Lucius is a pile of twigs in a fancy shirt. He's frightened of his own shadow."

"He couldn't beat you with his hands, no. But with money. With influence." Sirius gritted his teeth. "What if you did fight him? If you really got into it, let it all go, and he found out. Suppose word got 'round about your condition?"

Lupin went very pale. He hadn't considered that.

"Oh hell," Sirius said gruffly. Remus looked strangely fragile whenever he was scared. Like a kicked puppy. It was a feeling Sirius himself was too familiar with. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Yes, you did," said James. As the peacemaker of the group, he felt obligated to say something, even if it was just a wisecrack.

"Well," Sirius acknowledged with a smirk, "maybe."

"It worked," said Lupin, a little too withdrawn to smile. The color hadn't come back into his face yet, and he was getting that damnable faraway look that Sirius knew meant Lupin was feeling bitter with himself again.

With a small sigh, Sirius reached over and plucked up the abandoned swatch of cloth Remus had been wrestling with earlier. Sometimes, getting a thing done right meant doing it yourself. Even if you didn't particularly want to, and it was a fool's errand, and your best friend was going to get his heart broken for sure no matter what you did.

"Come on, mate," said Sirius. "Let's get you into this thing."