Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
A/N: I know I that said that I wouldn't publish this. Obviously, I changed my mind. I still need a beta reader, though, and any offers would be deeply appreciated. Suggestions for a new title are also more thanwelcome; I can't stand the one I've got, but I can't really think of anything else.
Lily Evans sighed, and reached up to tuck a stray hair back in her bun. She had finally finished her column, and it well before the deadline. She stood up from her desk and stretched, moaning as her lower back, cramping after hours hunched over a keyboard, protested. Glancing around her flat, she smiled. She may not have done as well as some of her friends, but she was free and clear; she had no debts, no unpaid bills, no financial worries. She knew exactly how her paycheck was spent, the same month after month. Her parents frequently offered to pay for somewhere larger for her to live, but she never accepted; the idea of charity grated on her nerves. Lily never even spent the thirty sickles she was sent every month by the Ministry; she had been honored to serve as an Auror, and wanted no recompense. She was proud of what she had accomplished on her own; she'd gotten through college, she had a nice place to live, and a job as a journalist, a profession she adored. She was so happy that there were some days she thought she might burst.
Staggering from fatigue, she made her way over to the bathroom, and turned the shower on, casting a discreet charm to make the water heat faster. Stepping under the steamy spray, she let her hair down, and sighed in bliss. She picked up the shampoo bottle and smiled, as she always did, at the moving picture on the label. 'Snape Cosmetics Company', it said, and the picture of Snape leered at her, blatantly licking its printed lips. It was something which never failed to amuse her, the idea that Snape, the only prudish Slytherin she'd ever met, would allow such an image of himself to be seen in public. Of course, some of the articles in the tabloids, which she would never admit to buying, did suggest that he had lost that particular trait, especially the ones about him and Dora Tonks, the movie star. They were, according to Witch Weekly, screwing like crazed rabbits.
The idea of Snape doing anything like a crazed rabbit was enough to make her laugh heartily, and she inhaled a mouthful of soapy water. Grimacing, she spat repeatedly and rinsed out her mouth, then turned off the shower, wrapping herself in a towel. She dried herself off, and put on a pair of sweatpants, then settled on the sofa with one of her favorite books. 'In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit...'
Remus gave himself a once-over in the mirror, then made a face of mild distaste. He was getting slightly chubby, and there were streaks of grey through his hair. On the one hand, his weight gain was slightly embarrassing. On the other, it meant that he was making enough money to eat well, an idea which he would once have dismissed as impossible. Before the cure for lycanthropy was discovered, he had been unable to find work; it just wasn't economical to hire someone who would be out sick a week of every month. His lips quirked in something like a smile as he thought fondly of Dr. Weston. The great doctor had won the Nobel Prize some years back, and had, during his speech, praised Remus for being the first to even consider the possibility of a cure. His co-workers at the library had razzed him for weeks about it, and had given him a cheap stethoscope as a gag, calling him 'Dr Lupin'.
When he thought about it carefully, he realized that the last time he had been this healthy had been during the year he'd been an Auror. Remus have never expected to be an Auror; in fact, he hadn't even bothered to report for service. After all, werewolves had never been allowed into the Auror Academy. He'd been lucky to escape Azkaban; the only thing that kept him out was having Headmaster Dumbledore testify on his behalf. He looked over at his bedside table, and the medal displayed there. 'For courage in the face of overwhelming odds', it said. He snorted; the only overwhelming odds he'd ever faced were the ones against a werewolf living past the age of twenty. He blessed the NHS every day, for paying for the treatments that had cured him; they were the only reason he was still alive, he was fairly certain.
He shrugged. There wasn't really any point in dwelling on the past; he was a reference librarian in his late twenties, and as far as most people were concerned, that was all. No point in talking about Hogwarts, or the Marauders; the government had taken over Hogwarts years ago, and mentioning the Marauders would garner him no more than a few blank stares. The Marauders... He hadn't thought about his old friends in ages. He knew that Peter had starred in several movies that had done well at the box office, and that Sirius had had a certain amount of success as a musician. He played in bars and clubs, and had a reputation as being a very good guitarist. Early on in his career, Sirius had invited him to one of his shows. Remus had been very impressed, especially by the way the drum set had exploded at the end. Come to think of it, that was the last time he'd seen Sirius.
He couldn't even remember the last time he'd seen James. Actually, he could. It was at the Three Broomsticks the night after the war ended. Everyone was celebrating but him; Lily had turned down his proposal. He'd been drunk off his head, and saying some truly unflattering things about her, of which 'Merlin-damned bluestocking' was the mildest. He wondered what had become of Lily; he knew that a girl like that would go far. She was nearly Slytherin in her ambition to be more than just a housewife, he mused fondly. He'd always been half in love with her; they all had. Even Snape had sent her more than just a few longing glances, which at the time had amused him. Upon reflection, though, he'd felt bad for Snape. With the clarity of hindsight, he'd realized that Snape must have been at least as in love with her as James, if not more. He himself had only wished that he dared ask her for a date, but between James' possessive streak concerning her and his own 'illness', he'd never dared. So much for Gryffindor bravery.
Sirius grinned, and took a theatrical bow. He'd just finished a performance, and he was exhausted and drenched in sweat, but the adrenaline in his veins made him feel like he was on top of the world. This was one of his favorite clubs to play at; there were always free drinks for the bands, and the barmaids were all pretty and flirtatious. Of course, he couldn't flirt with them anymore; he had a girlfriend now. He smiled at the thought of Nicola. She had a bit of a temper, but she was one of the most beautiful women he'd ever met. Tall, brunette, with bright blue eyes and a lopsided smile, she made his heart race and his palms sweaty. He felt like a schoolboy every time he looked at her, and occasionally still wondered what she saw in him.
He sat down at the bar and lit a cigarette, waving away the bartender. He wanted to be perfectly sober when he got home; Nicola would be waiting. He briefly wondered if he was completely under her thumb, then decided that he probably was, but wasn't it a lovely thumb to be under? He might even be as whipped as James would have been. His smile faded slightly at the thought of James. They still talked once in a while, had talked just last week, and James was obviously miserable. He'd never gotten over Lily; her rejection had damn near destroyed him. Sirius knew he was usually oblivious, but even he could tell that James had never let it go. He shuddered to think what might happen if the two saw each other again.
He shrugged it off, and tried to think of happier things. He'd finished writing three new songs, Nicola had been promoted and their first anniversary was next week. He was planning to take her to the Ritz to celebrate. How would James and Lily have celebrated- No. Must think of better things, he reminded himself. Like how Remus is doing, for example. The last time he'd seen Remus, he'd been part way through his treatments, and sick as a dog. He'd have to call him some time, catch up with each others' lives. After all, it was practically his job to make sure his friend was as happy as he was. Resolved to a course of action, Sirius smiled, and got up to go home.
Peter smiled. He'd just looked over a script, and it looked like a part he might enjoy playing. It was an action movie, rather unusually for him; he almost always did comedies, but this was too good a part to turn down. He'd been asked to play Mad-Eye Moody in a movie about the war with Grindelwald, a highly inaccurate movie, but it looked like it would sell well. He wondered briefly if he'd be allowed input on some of the more technical parts of being an Auror, and about some of Mad-Eye's quirks. He remembered being trained by him, along with Snape and Remus. They'd been one of the most successful Auror teams on record, between Snape's ability to think sideways, Remus' supernatural strength and some of his more dubious talents, such as forgery and lock-picking. They'd been the ones to sneak into Malfoy Manor, and erect anti-magic wards, to prevent anyone from escaping before the missile was launched to destroy the Death Eaters who'd been using it as a base. They'd even bagged the Dark Lord himself in that operation; he'd been in Malfoy Manor with everyone else, a move that Severus had condemned as extremely sloppy.
His smile turned into a full-blown grin at the thought of Severus. During their training together, they'd gotten to be quite good friends, much to James' and Sirius' horror. They still saw each other every day, not unexpected, given that they both lived in Bel Air. Severus owned a cosmetics company, something that still slightly bewildered Peter. He would never have expected the cynical, sarcastic man to do anything of the kind; if anything, he would have expected him to stay an Auror. He'd taken a positive glee in dueling with his ex-housemates; it had made Peter wonder just what they'd done to anger him that much, and made him thank his lucky stars that he personally had never done anything more than charm Severus' hair into a blue mohawk.
Remus hadn't gotten off so easily; Severus, showing his usual slightly odd sense of humor, had gifted him, while keeping a completely straight face, with a package of flea bath and a leather collar and leash set. He'd also made perpetual barbed remarks about lapdogs, which Remus had taken surprisingly well; at least, it had surprised Peter. He didn't know if it had surprised Severus. He'd have to ask him the next time he saw him. He'd also have to ask about the Warren Zevon record; that had been a trick worthy of the Marauders. Peter grinned; here he was, rich and famous, and all he could do was think about the good old days, when he'd been broke and in constant danger. Maybe he needed more excitement in his life; he'd have to think about it.
Severus nodded thoughtfully. He didn't know and didn't care what his assistant had just said, but he needed to at least give the appearance of listening or she'd storm off in a huff again. He wondered how the hell he'd gotten where he was; he'd never wanted to be the corporate type. It had been his dream to own an apothecary shop, and he had, for a while. But then it turned into two shops, then a chain, and he was too busy managing them to spend time in the labs. Now, of course, he was rich enough to do as he pleased; but somehow, that didn't make him feel any better. He was stultifying bored with his life; the only fun he had anymore was arguing with Peter; Pete was always good for a session of bickering about insignificant things. He'd tease Pete about the tabloid rumors, and Pete would tease him right back about the same thing, then screech at him for calling him Pete, which he hated.
His assistant cleared her throat in annoyance, and Severus looked up guiltily. She was glaring at him, and holding the second quarter earnings report under his nose. He blushed slightly and accepted it, glancing over the figures. Sales were up in Europe, that was good, and the stock price had gone up again. He sighed deeply, making his assistant glare at him even harder, which he ignored. It just wasn't fair, that at the young age of twenty-nine he'd turned into a corporate drone. He was owner and CEO of his own company, but he still felt like a drone. He wore suits, for Slytherin's sake! Grey wool suits! With neckties!
Feeling hysteria approaching, Severus dismissed his assistant, who was still glaring, and turned to look out his window. It was early afternoon, and the California sun bathed LA in a warm glow. It was really quite beautiful, now that the infamous smog had been magicked away. He hated to be in the office on a day like this. He loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves. Screw work; he was going to go get lunch and eat it on the grass in the park.
James groaned, and slumped over his desk. He was working late again, like usual, and he was only leaving because they were about to lock up the building, also like usual. He hated going home; he had a spacious flat, paid for by the Bureau of Magical Control, but it was so damn empty. By all rights, Lily should be waiting there, with their children, but no, she'd wanted a career! Instead of marrying him after their terms as Aurors were over like she should have, she'd turned him down and gone off somewhere! Turned him down! The Gryffindor Quidditch captain! The most popular boy in school, and she'd turned him down. Obviously there was something wrong with her, to choose work over him, but he'd have overlooked it for her sake.
While he was ruminating on the injustice of life, the security guard had come to the door. He looked up and waved him off, signaling that he'd just soon as he got everything in his briefcase. He finished packing it, and strode out of the office, a false smile on his face, pretending that he wanted to go home. He'd already been made to take one mental health vacation, and he didn't want to have to take another. They meant that he had to stay home and stare at the walls, waiting until they said he could come back. He couldn't stop himself thinking if he didn't have something to do, and he'd grown to hate thinking. He could never stop wondering about what might have been, and what was going to be. He knew he was going to live a neat, empty little life and die a neat, empty little death, and there was nothing he could do about it.
He unlocked the door of his flat and dropped his bag just inside the door, then collapsed on the sofa and turned on the television, looking for something mindless to distract him. He soon found a marathon of some sitcom, and settled down for the night. He fell asleep three hours later, a laugh track still running through his head.
"Arthur!" called Minister Millicent Bagnold, recently re-elected Minister of Magic.
Her aide, Arthur Weasley, poked his head through the door. "Yes Milly? Did you need something?"
"Could you find me those reports about Dark activity in Wales? I've just heard some worrying news, and I'd like to check something."
"Certainly." Arthur pawed through a filing cabinet, and brought her a thick folder. "What did you hear?"
Millicent sighed. "Someone claims to have witnessed a manifestation in Dinas Emrys. The witness, one Mundungus Fletcher, says he saw the shade of Vortigern."
Arthur winced slightly. "Do you believe him?" It was obvious Arthur hoped that Fletcher was mistaken; he knew that shades required the darkest of sacrifices to summon, and he dreaded learning that someone was delving that deeply into the Dark Arts.
"Unfortunately, he does seem credible." Millicent looked through the reports quickly, and her shoulders slumped. "Holy Merlin. There have been disappearances, desecrations and thefts of artifacts. I don't think I've ever seen this many incidences of Dark Magic in my life, Arthur, not even during the war. Someone even tried to summon a demon!"
"Fuck." said Arthur succinctly. "What are we going to do?"
Millicent looked sternly at him over her glasses. "We are not going to do anything. You are going to go home to your family, and I'm going to call the Aurors."
Arthur looked at her uncertainly. "But Milly, the Aurors were dissolved after the last war. We handed all our law enforcement over to the Muggle half of the government."
Millicent sighed. "Arthur, do you really trust those incompetents to deal something like this? I have no idea how big it's going to turn out to be, and I'm scared to find out. We need Aurors for a job like this. Some of the Aurors from the last war are still young enough and healthy enough. I'm going to call up the half-dozen best to start, and get reinforcements as necessary."
"Yes, Milly." Arthur said. "Is there anything you want me to do before I go home?"
"Just one thing. Could you find me-" Millicent closed her eyes and thought for a moment. "Remus Lupin's, Severus Snape's, Peter Pettigrew's, Sirius Black's, Lily Evans' and James Potter's mailing addresses? I need them here as soon as possible."
Arthur grinned, recognizing the names of some of the greatest heroes of the war. "I'll get right on it."