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'The tempter or the tempted; who sins most?'

William Shakespeare, Measure For Measure (Quote thanks to Lullaby Lily)

"I honestly think there's something wrong with that boy."

The voice that had floated out of the pantry was followed by an emphatic crunch – as though someone had bitten into an apple that had, quite clearly, been pilfered from the stores. Several tins rolled out of the small room, and a small packet of herbs followed – flying through the air to land with a quiet slap and skid next to Sinn, who simply rolled his eyes, nudging the packet to one side with his foot.

"Which boy is this? You think there's something wrong with at least one of your pupils nearly every day of the week. Not that you'd be able to judge – you'd hardly win the 'World's Sanest Wizard Award' yourself."

"Who else," the voice replied, as another packet hurtled across the room and Sinn had to duck as it hit the kitchen cabinet where his head had been an instant earlier, "but Sirius Black?" There was a scuffle, and Mars emerged from the pantry, carrying a small sack of flour, several eggs and a rather alarming number of different vegetables. He grinned as Sinn looked up at him from his cross-legged position on the floor, and settled down gracefully next to him. Juggling several items, he eventually managed to free a hand, and waved one of the vegetables under Sinn's nose.

"Carrot?"

"No," Sinn said dryly. "Thank you."

Mars shrugged and bit into the unfortunate vegetable with a rather alarming amount of vindictive relish. He paused for a moment, chewing thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on Sinn, who frowned, and glanced away.

"I mean, one minute the little bastard's causing as much havoc as he possibly can, the next minute he's as docile as a lamb," Mars said, returning to his original topic. "The only bloody teacher he behaves for is Remus – and even then I could swear he's probably up to something. He's never good unless it benefits him in some way."

"Honestly, don't you think you're being a little paranoid?" Sinn absently picked up one of the packets of herbs and stared at it, dubiously. "Incidentally, why did you volunteer me to help make dinner this evening? I'm meant to be a guest."

"I'm never paranoid," Mars retorted, standing up and beginning to collect his ingredients together. "I just say things how I see them. And I volunteered you, because you're no guest, and Annie doesn't trust me to make anything without burning the house down. But for some reason, she trusts you." He snorted and began peeling a potato, occasionally glancing at Sinn, who rose as well.

The Divinations teacher scowled, and began measuring flour out with unnerving accuracy and speed. "Sirius always behaves in my lessons," he commented eventually.

"Yes, but that's because you're too fearsome to contradict."

"Fearsome? That's a word I've never heard associated with me before." Black eyebrows rose. "Don't tell me I'm really fearsome."

"Oh, you are," Mars replied cheerfully, absently eating a piece of potato. "Scared the hell out of me the first time I met you." He grinned and returned to his chopping, as Sinn frowned. "I mean, even now, most of the members of staff wouldn't exactly call you friendly. Except for Maple, of course; but she's nearly as bad as you. Never cross that woman. I learnt the hard way – she actually boxed my ears once, you know?"

Trying to ignore the mental image Mars had provided, Sinn rolled his eyes. "If I'm that frightening, why on earth do you talk to me?"

"Oh, because you're not actually frightening." Mars waved a hand dismissively, and then promptly sliced his thumb on a kitchen knife. "Fuck!"

Sighing, Sinn picked up a dishcloth and ran it under the cold tap. Gently prying the knife from Mars' fingers, he held the cloth against the cut. "Fool. You should be more careful. Honestly, you're worse than Apollo when it comes to the kitchen." He continued scolding, absently noting that Mars was eating all the potato slices he'd just cut. Unwilling to remove his hand from where it was putting pressure on the wound, he resorted to glaring up at his friend, who was busy crunching his way through his fifth piece.

"Stop that! We're meant to be eating those for dinner!"

Mars grumbled, but complied, sulkily dropping the half eaten piece back on the chopping board. Sinn pursed his lips and changed the topic before the Sports teacher could continue to sulk.

"Did you know Remus has agreed to keep a closer eye on Sirius? Dumbledore asked him to. Apparently that boy needs 'stability' in his life – something I'm sure he's unaccustomed to. Anyway, Remus has said he's going to Hogsmeade with Sirius this weekend – something about making sure he doesn't scare any more old ladies. Personally, I think the Headmaster had a hand in that, too."

"Really?" Despite himself, Mars looked interested.

"Mm. I think it'll be nice for the boy to have some kind of good influence. It's fine us being nice to him, but we're not exactly able to relate to him – we're of a different generation."

"In the name of the gods, Sinn! You're making us sound ancient!"

"Well –" Sinn began, his lips twitching; but Annie, who stuck her head around the kitchen door, interrupted him.

"How's dinner coming along?" she asked, clearly expecting to see smoke pouring from the oven.

Sinn dropped Mars's hand as though it was suddenly red hot, and cleared his throat loudly. "I'm doing very well with my half, thank you," he reported, turning back to his measuring. "Mars, on the other hand, has been eating all the vegetables." He smirked down at the tabletop as an indignant grunt sounded to his left, then he carefully edged around the kitchen to try and find some eggs.

"I was not," Mars protested, as his sister glared at him. "I tried one piece of potato to make sure it wasn't…mouldy."

"You'd have been able to see the mould!" Annie snapped, pushing the door open and stepping into the kitchen. "And the potatoes would have smelt. Nice try."

"Oh come on, Annie, one measly piece of potato…"

Sinn retrieved the egg and cracked it into a bowl. "Five, actually," he reported with carefully disguised amusement.

"Five? FIVE?" Annie's voice was getting louder. "My children have to EAT this evening! You'd better make sure they've got something by the time I get back from picking them up! I swear you're going to be the death of me." She scowled, and for one moment looked remarkably like her brother who, although he was significantly taller, was managing to cower in a corner of the kitchen.

"Oh, Annie, don't be like that…"

"Don't be like WHAT, Pyrrhus Anthony Fogarty?"

There was a choking sound from Sinn, who was slowly turning red as he vainly attempted to hold in his laughter. He'd only ever heard Mars being called by his true name once before, and that had been by a rather elderly aunt, who had had a tendency to forget who he was anyway, and had insisted his name was actually Andrew. Smothering another chuckle, the Divinations teacher glared hard at the eggs then decided it wasn't worth breaking them the manual way. Tuning out Annie's loud tirade, he murmured a quiet charm under his breath, then watched as the eggs marched one by one up to the bowl and cracked themselves.

His attention was drawn back to the other situation at hand when Mars finally gave up trying to protest his innocence and resorted to throwing a dishcloth at Annie, telling her to get out of the kitchen. Normally, this would have only enraged her further, but she caught sigh of the clock, and realised she had to pick Apollo and Ganymede up from school.

She apparated out with one last threat, leaving the kitchen in relative peace once more.

"Well done," Mars huffed eventually when Sinn declined to comment on the spectacular row, and the silence in the kitchen had lengthened significantly. "You got me into trouble with Annie and landed me with dinner duty for the rest of the week." He scowled and viciously stabbed a potato with a kitchen knife.

"Well you were the one who thought it was wise to argue with your sister." Sinn's voice was unforgiving and remorseless. "Anyway, I don't know why you let her bully you so much."

"Because she lets me live here free of charge?" Mars suggested, his natural good humour already starting to restore itself. "And if she didn't I'd have to live at Hogwarts in a pokey little room? Because unlike some people, I couldn't claim Divinations rights and get a whole flat out of the school in the Divinations tower. Or…" he paused, tapping his bottom lip with the point of the knife, "…I'd just have to live with you."

"You'd do no such thing!" Sinn snapped, nearly cringing at the thought of Mars and the chaotic impact he'd have on his neat flat. "I'd make you sleep on the tower roof."

"So cold. You wound me, Sinn, you really do!" Mars tightened his ponytail – an automatic gesture that came from spending half of his life being blown about on a broomstick and thus having to retie his hair every five minutes. Setting the freshly peeled potatoes aside he sidled up behind his friend and peered over his shoulder at the eggs, which were still marching up to the bowl and committing suicide over the edge.

Sinn twitched, disliking the invasion of personal space. "What are you doing?" he snapped, trying to turn his head to see Mars.

"Watching the egg parade." The voice came right by Sinn's ear, and he nearly jumped at the closeness of it. Pursing his lips, he opened his mouth to retort sharply, when one of Mars's hands came into view, sliding slowly across the counter towards the line of eggs.

Sinn slapped the hand.

"Leave them alone, Mars. If you muck up my egg count, I'll kill you in the most creative way I can think of."

"Is that creative good or creative bad?"

"Good for me, bad for you," Sinn snarled. "I'd enjoy watching your untimely demise, but I'm sure you wouldn't enjoy experiencing it. Now leave them alone and get back to your vegetables, will you?"

"Hope I'm not interrupting this lovely domestic scene," an amused voice interjected. Both teachers turned to see Remus standing in the doorway, a large black cat in his arms.

"Remus, oh thank Merlin," Sinn stepped heavily on Mars's foot, making his friend wince and jump back. "I was afraid Mars would ruin the dinner with only me here to watch him." He smiled briefly. "What brings you here?"

Remus shifted the cat and nodded back towards the hall. "I came to bring Mrs Fogarty – Davies' Christmas present. It was quiet up at the school, and although my marking awaits, I thought a walk would do me good."

"Alex likes you," Mars murmured, nodding towards the cat, which was purring contentedly. "That's pretty unusual; he hates strangers."

Sinn pulled a sour face, reflecting on the first time he'd met the cat. The experience had been singularly unpleasant, involving a spitting Alex attached to his leg. He'd resorted to kicking his leg until the cat's claws had loosened, but unfortunately, he had jerked a little too hard. Alex had gone flying, but had fortunately landed on the sofa. Needless to say, the beast had despised him ever since.

"Oh." Remus blinked down at Alex, who was still purring contentedly.

"I heard you've been assigned to baby sitting Mr Black," Sinn commented, changing the subject as he began dicing the vegetables – a job Mars was supposed to be doing.

"Oh? Where did you hear that?" Remus, even to himself, sounded overly casual. He swallowed and tried again. "I, er, only learnt about it myself yesterday."

"Professor Maple heard it from Professor McGonagall," Mars said around a mouthful of potato, ducking as Sinn through the dishcloth at him for stealing the vegetables. "McGonagall heard it from Dumbledore himself. Oh, and Maple told me. And it therefore logically follows that I can't keep anything from Sinn, because if I did, and he found out about it, he'd murder me."

"Except you won't tell me what you're wearing to the Christmas dinner," the Divinations teacher commented – acid in his voice.

"I've told you, it's a surprise."

"Well, as long as you're not coming as the Whore of Babylon, I don't suppose I'll care much," Sinn retorted, throwing the chopped vegetables into a saucepan of boiling water. "Have you got a costume yet, Remus?"

Relived that the subject had been changed, Remus shook his head. "I was thinking I'd just throw something together the night before," he admitted. "Or maybe just buy a costume instead."

"Well don't take too long," Mars warned, "you've only got a week." He smiled, then snagged a piece of carrot off the chopping board and chucked it at Sinn's head. "Oy, Sinn, what about you? Have you got a costume?"

"That is absolutely none of your business," Sinn said, carefully sprinkling a small amount of salt into a pot of boiling water. "Remus, I did tell you that the students are coming in costume as well, didn't I?"

Remus nodded his confirmation, and smiled as Mars absent-mindedly tied an apron around his waist – one that, unfortunately, had pink ruffles. Sinn turned around and blinked, shock creeping into his eyes at the sight, before he pursed his lips and shoved past Mars, reaching for the spice rack. Remus watched, faintly amused, as Mars stared at his friend, shook his head despairingly, then looked down and realised what he was wearing. He went a rather alarming shade of red.

Over the noise of Mars choking in embarrassment, Sinn smiled pleasantly at Remus.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" he asked, already chopping more vegetables. "I won't listen to you if you say no," he added, and behind him Mars shook his head, still faintly pink with humiliation. Remus laughed and shook his head, but not in denial.

"If Mrs Fogarty-Davies wouldn't mind having one more."

"I'm sure she won't," Sinn said blandly, tossing a piece of carrot at Mars's head. "Besides, there's good food to be had here; I know, I cook it." The last was said with deliberate emphasis as he glared at Mars, who stared very hard at the ceiling, his lips twitching. "Anyway," Sinn continued, turning away from the Sports teacher with an exasperated look, "you need to build up your strength for…" he waved a hand, vaguely, uncomfortable with the topic. "Saturday."

"Saturday?" Remus frowned, suspicion beginning to dawn.

"What he means," Mars said bluntly, "is that we need to feed you up before you rip yourself to shreds in an attempt to go on a manic killing spree." Never one for subtlety he simply shrugged as Sinn shot him a furious look. "Look, I'm definitely not comfortable with it – no offence Remus – but there's no use beating about the bush, Sinn, is there?" He eyed Remus warily. "What's the matter? You look rather, er, pale."

"Probably your shocking lack of tact," Sinn snapped, furiously chopping vegetables.

"No, it's not that." Remus waved a hand impatiently, carefully placing Alex on the floor. "It's just…I said I'd look after Sirius on Saturday, didn't I?"

"Oh." Mars frowned. "Oh dear."

"I suggest," Sinn said, still chopping with a rather alarming amount of savagery, "you come up with an excellent excuse."

AaAaAaAa

"So," James said with the careful air of a man who is walking through Dangerous Territory.

"So," Sirius repeated, idly flipping through his Potions textbook before dropping it on the floor with a loud thud. He raised an inquisitive eyebrow at James, who did his best to look as though he wasn't afraid of getting his throat ripped out.

"Are you going home for the Christmas holidays?" James's voice was overly casual as he sat down on his bed, absently tugging at his shoelaces in a vain attempt to get them undone. "I mean, Pete and I are staying, but we weren't sure if you had to go home for a…family thing." He tensed, expecting Sirius to become defensive, but was pleasantly surprised when his friend merely shrugged, yawning.

"No. To be honest Mother made it perfectly clear I wasn't expected home until the end of the summer term. Looks like I'm stuck here."

James and Peter exchanged faintly surprised, but relieved, glances. Sirius was taking this topic rather well. Deciding not to push his luck, James changed the subject with his usual lack of grace. Peter buried his head in his hands and mutter uncomplimentary things about James, the tact of elephants and several questions about the actual parentage of his friend – who remained oblivious throughout.

"Where were you yesterday at dinner? Pete and I waited but you never showed up." James wiggled his eyebrows. "Meeting some girl?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"That we try to be friends. I'm sorry, Sirius. I can't do this. Not here, not now. This job means everything to me."

Irritably shaking his head, as though to clear it of the echoes haunting his thoughts, Sirius blinked at James. "How did you reach that conclusion, pray tell?"

"Well, normally when a bloke's being secretive, it's because of some bird," James said, authority clear in his voice.

"Oh, what, you mean like you were about Lily?" Peter said sarcastically.

"Look, it's not a girl," Sirius said, leaping in just as James opened his mouth to retort angrily. "And before you ask, James, no it's not a prank, either. You know I'd tell you if I was going to hex the Slytherins or something."

James, who had been about to ask that question next, shut his mouth with a snap and folded his arms. "Then what is it, mate? No offence, but you're being pretty secretive about the whole thing." Peter, who despite his irritation agreed with James, nodded and settled back more comfortably on his own bed, his gaze fixed curiously on Sirius, who looked from one to the other, his expression slightly trapped.

"Well…" And here it came, Sirius tensed. The lie. "Professor Dumbledore has apparently been on about getting me a mentor. Something about me not being mature enough." He laughed, but it sounded slightly hollow and forced. "So he's asked Professor Lupin to keep an eye on me. Lupin, er, just wanted to have a chat about it last night, so I stayed behind after you blokes left. Apparently he's coming to Hogsmeade with us this weekend."

"You…" James said, his voice bordering on disbelief, "…have managed to get a teacher monitoring our every move? I'm a good boy now! I shouldn't have to put up with this! I thought Dumbledore and I were past all of that mistrust thing!"

"Be fair," Peter said, far more reasonably than he felt, "he's only monitoring Sirius, not us."

"We can't have people being suspicious about us. Dumbledore's asked me to keep an eye on you, but I know he only meant as a teacher to a student."

"Well, there's our excuse. We just tell everyone I'm a wicked hellion who needs watching."

A faint, grim laugh – despair striking a strange almost tragic note within it. "You are, Mr Black."

"It's time to go to Divinations." Sirius stood up abruptly, hauling his schoolbag over one shoulder and frowning at Peter and James, who still looked somewhat put out about the whole situation. "Look," he added, as the other two scrambled for their bags before they all made their way out of Gryffindor tower and off towards the Divinations classroom. "If you really feel that worried about a teacher tagging along, why don't you two push off for the day?"

"You sure?" James enquired dubiously as they clattered up a flight of stairs. "I for one would feel bad about just deserting you." Peter, unseen as he was lagging behind, nodded in agreement.

"Yeah," Sirius waved a hand airily, hitching his bag up. "Look, its not like Lupin's much of a problem, is it? He's hardly older than us. I'm sure I can charm my way into getting him to give a good report to Dumbledore, then he won't have to monitor me, and the teachers will think I'm a good boy. Everybody wins." His voice was casual, but James frowned; something in his friend's manner seemed slightly…off.

"Anyway," Sirius continued blithely, "I need you to get me some things, and I can hardly go shopping with a teacher in tow, can I?" Not waiting for a reply, he pushed open the door to the Divinations classroom.

"Ironic that it's Professor Lupin, eh?" Peter muttered to James, who nodded, still somewhat nonplussed. "I mean, what with that stupid bet, and him teaching us Defence Against the Dark Arts…" he chuckled, sitting down at the table, next to Sirius, who was now busy rummaging in his bag. "Personally I think we should be teaching him."

"Teaching who, what?" Sirius asked, having missed some of the conversation, but emerging triumphantly from the depths of his bag with a leaky quill and a scrap of parchment.

"Teaching Professor Lupin 'Defence Against Sirius'," Peter said cheerfully, and James flopped down in the seat next to him.

"Oh ha bloody ha," Sirius said, resorting to childish retorts and poking his tongue out. "Very funny, Pete. Look, I don't know why you two are making such a big fuss about this. Ickle Lupin can protect himself from me quite well, I assure you." Sirius missed the sharp look James shot him again, as a strange note of bitterness crept into his voice. Peter failed to notice it, but he felt the warning kick James directed at his shin, and said no more.

Sirius poked moodily at the crystal ball that was resting on their desk. The fog in the middle of it shifted slightly, but otherwise remained resolutely thick, so he sat back and glanced up just in time to catch Snape staring at him from the opposite end of the classroom.

"Slimy snake," he muttered darkly to James, who glanced in the direction he was looking and rolled his eyes.

"This year, you two really seem to be at each other's throats," he commented.

"Yeah, well you were last year, until you became responsible, because Lily wouldn't go out with you otherwise." Sirius's words were said with casual, but unintentional, cruelty, and James frowned at him.

"Right, that's it. What's bothering you, Sirius? You're not normally this…sour. Is it the Lupin thing?"

Sirius stiffened. "What do you mean, 'the Lupin thing'?" he snapped, body tense.

"The teacher-monitoring thing. Is that what's bothering you?" James explained patiently, exchanging a curious look with Peter, who was trying to remain as unobtrusive as possible.

"Oh." Sirius relaxed somewhat. "No. Look, I'm fine. It's probably just…life that's getting to me." He smiled then sank instinctively lower into his chair as Professor Sinn emerged from his office and sat down at his desk, gaze taking in the room and lingering, just for a moment, on the table they sat at. The teacher's lips thinned, but he said nothing, instead nodding to the crystal balls placed at each desk.

"A warm up exercise first, I think. Will each of you please take it in turn to report to the other members of your table what is likely to happen over the course of the next week? I hope all reports will agree. Of course," And here James could have sworn Sinn glared directly at Sirius and himself, "some people will have to put in more effort than others. Begin."

"I nominate Peter first," Sirius said, leaning back in his seat and absently glancing out of the window, watching several sixth years practice Quidditch.

"But we all know I'm terrible at this," Peter protested, poking dubiously at the crystal ball. "Why can't James go first?"

"Oh no…" James held up his hands in a useless gesture of self-defence. "Last time I predicted that Sirius would make a decision that would change his life, and nothing happened. Then I predicted you would get eaten by one of Maple's special plants, and I was wrong about that, too. Sorry, Peter, but I'm just as bad as you are."

"Then why can't Sirius go first?"

"Because I nominated you!" Sirius said triumphantly. "Now hop to it, there's a good lad. Reveal what the stars hold for us today."

Peter sighed and stared dubiously into the crystal ball, his eyes half screwed up in concentration. He frowned and bit his lip, his fingers twisting together nervously. James leant forwards, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and curiosity. Sirius merely frowned, tapping one thoughtful finger against his lips as Peter thumped the crystal ball a couple of times with his hand, then began to talk.

"There's…Sirius. He's talking to someone." Peter squinted. "Can't see who. He looks angry…no, furious…he's shouting, waving his arms. Now he looks upset. I think he's alone. Yes – no! James is there." James and Sirius exchanged bemused looks. "You're both talking. There's…the music competition."

"What!" James and Sirius shouted, leaning forwards, their expressions eager.

"Can you see who's going to win?"

"Is it Slytherin?"

"Is it us?"

"Ssh!" Peter waved a hand impatiently. "No, now it's gone again. Your excitement probably clouded the…psychic waves, or something."

"Psychic waves," Sirius said, somewhat proudly. "You hear that, James? Psychic waves. I think Pete is finally showing his true talent. Now," he turned gleaming eyes back to Peter, who was looking faintly exasperated. "Tell us what you can see about the music competition, oh great seer."

"I'll try," Peter said dryly, as around their desk, the rest of the class got on with the exercise, and Sinn marked essays at the front of the classroom. Rubbing his eyes, Peter stared at the crystal ball again. James leant forwards, and Sirius tried desperately hard not to fidget as Peter frowned, clearly trying to make something out. Seconds ticked by, and James began holding his breath, sure that Peter was about to reveal that Gryffindor would win the music competition.

"I see…" Peter began, somewhat dubiously.

"Yes?" James let out his breath in one excited whisper.

"You, er, Jamie. You're um, getting hit by a quaffle."

"Are you sure?" Sirius looked thoughtful. "He gets hit with quaffles all the time – comes with the job of being a Chaser. Peter, that's not very helpful."

"I see a quaffle," Peter said again, more firmly this time. "I…see it COMING TOWARDS YOU RIGHT NOW!" His yell startled the class, most of whom jumped and turned to look at their table, just as, true to Peter's words, a quaffle smashed through the window, narrowly missing Sirius, who fell off his chair in surprise. It zipped past Peter's nose, and hit James squarely between the eyes with a loud and incredibly painful-sounding thud.

There was a long pause, as the rest of the class stared breathlessly at James who, for a heartbeat, remained utterly still. Then, slowly, he toppled sideways onto the floor, unconscious.

"Well I'll be damned." Sirius's voice interrupted the thick tension of the room, and he crawled over to where James lay, sprawled. Ignoring the shards of glass scattered around them, he poked his friend's shoulder, then shook his head, wonderingly. "Out cold." He raised his head, and grinned at Peter, who let out a muffled squeak, but otherwise remained frozen. "And you saw this coming," Sirius added.

"It seems we'll make a seer of you yet, Mr Pettigrew," Sinn's dry voice cut in. "But I really think it's rather urgent that we get Mr Potter down to the hospital wing, don't you?"

AaAaAaAa

James Potter emerged from darkness to the sound of soft voices at the other end of the room, and a cold breeze brushing his cheek.

"I'm telling you, Madame Pomphrey, he'll be fine, honestly!"

"And I'm telling you, Mr Pettigrew, that he will not be going anywhere for the next couple of days."

"But…Hogsmeade…"

"Will still be there after Christmas," Madame Pomphrey said firmly, and James cracked his eyelids open to peer at her face. She looked resolute. "I assure you he will be well in time for the end of term, and your precious music competition, but before that, I want to keep him in. He has concussion." She scowled. "I always knew Quidditch was a dangerous sport, but really, when you're not even playing it and you can still be injured? Ridiculous."

She stomped back to her desk at the far end of the ward, and Peter came over to sit beside James, who opened his eyes completely.

"Hello, Pete."

"Hi." Peter sat down on the edge of the bed, shooting James an apologetic glance as the slight movement of the mattress set the dark haired boy's head pounding. "How much did you, er, hear of that?"

"Enough." James grimaced and shut his eyes again. "No Hogsmeade, eh?" He frowned, eyes still shut. "Where's Sirius?"

"No Hogsmeade," Peter confirmed. "And Sirius has gone to Quidditch practice. You've been out of it nearly all day, you know. He said he'd be back later to tell you how everything went, and he promised he'd try and bring some Butterbeer." He smiled weakly, and James, opening his eyes, sensed there was something more that the shorter boy wanted to say. He nodded slightly, ignoring the pain in his head.

"Ok. You…alright, Pete?"

"Mm." Peter frowned, looking down at his hands, which were fiddling nervously with the material of his robes. "James…there's, something you should know."

"Oh? What?" James shut his eyes again, blocking out the suspiciously bright light of the room.

"I…wasn't telling the truth, earlier. I, er, saw something else when I said that, um, Sirius was yelling at someone."

James cracked open one eye to peer up at Peter, who was still staring fixedly at his hands. When no more information seemed forthcoming, he frowned and managed to move his leg, nudging his friend with it. Peter jumped slightly, and seemed to come back to himself somewhat. Looking up, he refused to meet James's gaze, instead fixing his eyes on a point just beyond his head.

"Well?" James prompted.

"Sirius was shouting at Professor Lupin," Peter said quietly.

"So?" James looked puzzled. "Sirius gets into arguments with teachers quite a lot of the time. What's so special about this? Although," he added somewhat gleefully, "this definitely proves you're improving in the foresight department."

"Yes, well." Peter took a deep breath. "Shouting wasn't the only thing Sirius was doing."

AaAaAaAa

Mud squelched under Sirius's boots, and he grimaced, repressing the automatic shudder that came from being raised to loathe untidiness of any kind. Sniffing, he rubbed the back of his hand across his nose, and shouldered his broom. Ignoring the rest of his teammates he pulled his sodden robes tighter around his body and shivered. Stomping past several students who had been brave enough to venture out to watch the practice, he slid around the Slytherin stands and headed for the changing rooms.

"Well, well. A drowned rat." The voice was low and unpleasant, and Sirius stiffened, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"Get lost," he snarled, not turning around. He shifted slightly, though; his boots sucking at the mud.

"You'd better be more polite to me." Snape's voice had a singsong quality to it – it quite clearly said 'I know something you don't'. He snickered and stepped out of the shadow of the stands, perfectly dry, having been sheltered by the seats above his head.

"And why should I do that?" Sirius stared at him, coldly. Behind Snape, in the gloom, he could just make out another figure, but couldn't decide who it might be. It didn't matter. Audience or no, he was not going to be polite to Snape, particularly when he was smirking at him so maliciously. 'I,' Sirius reminded himself, 'am a Black. And he's merely a pathetic lower class piece of...of filth!'

"Oh, I don't know," Snape was saying casually. "Maybe because if you don't start being nicer to me, I'll reveal your disgusting little secret?"

"What are you on about?" Sirius stared at him, his lips twisting into a nasty smile. "I think you're deranged, Snape, you clearly need help if you think you know anything about me." He laughed, grimly.

Instead of becoming angry, Snape merely raised an eyebrow. "Oh? So you wouldn't mind me informing anyone of your sudden…interest in Defence Against the Dark Arts?" He smirked as Sirius went pale.

"What…" Sirius's voice shook, then seemed to smooth out, becoming completely flat and without inflection. "What are you talking about?" He stared at Snape neutrally, clearly refusing to rise to the bait when the other boy smirked, his expression one of malicious satisfaction. "If you've nothing truthful to say, Snape, get out of my way." Sirius moved to walk past, but was stopped by Snape's hand, which shot out and grabbed his arm.

"I know what you are, Black. Gay. Queer. You and Lupin…"

"Get off of me." Sirius's voice was icy and he shook himself free from Snape's grasp, grey eyes hard. "You know nothing." Shoving past Snape, he walked quickly towards the changing rooms, refusing to turn around, even when he heard the other boy laugh behind him.

"I wonder what your family will say?" Snape's voice floated after him, mockingly, carrying on the clear evening air.

Gritting his teeth, Sirius shoved open the changing room door, then slammed it behind him, blocking out the sound of Snape's voice. Leaning against the door, he buried his head in his hands, trying to shut out the rest of the world. He remained utterly still, trying to think of nothing but his breathing and the steady dripping of the leaky tap, which no one could ever turn off completely. He knew the rest of the players would be arriving soon, wanting to shower and change before they all trudged off for dinner, and it was vital that he looked calm. Nothing was meant to upset a Black, but more importantly, Sirius wanted no suspicions about his behaviour.

'It's fine,' he told himself. 'Snape's just trying to wind me up as usual. There's absolutely nothing going on anyway – at least, nothing important.' Even to him, the words sounded hollow. 'Anyway, he can't prove anything, and if he were to tell my family, I doubt they'd believe him. Yes,' he drew a deep breath, closing his eyes and dropping his hands to his sides. 'There's nothing he can prove and he can't tell anyone.'

The sound of footsteps approaching the changing rooms made him move away from the door. Hurriedly stripping off his Quidditch robes, he arranged his expression into one of boredom as several of his teammates clattered into the room, chattering loudly. Sirius nodded to a couple of them as he quickly changed, stuffing his clothes under one arm before bolting from the room and out into the cold air.

AaAaAaAa

"You mean…" James said, eyes wide.

"Yes."

"Really…"

"Yes."

"And Lupin…"

"Yes." Peter rubbed his forehead in frustration, resisting the urge to hit James with his textbook, which he'd brought to the hospital wing in the hope of getting some work done. The only thing stopping him from beating James into coherent understanding was the fact that his friend still had concussion, so a brutal repartee would probably knock him senseless. Peter was still sorely tempted.

"But…" James seemed unable to complete a sentence, although his mouth continued to open and shut. It reminded Peter rather unpleasantly of a goldfish. "But…Sirius…really?"

"YES!" Peter snapped, dropping the textbook on the floor, lest he do serious damage to James – something the Gryffindor Quidditch team would not approve of.

"But Sirius is only eighteen!"

"Precisely, he's an adult. In fact, he's nearly nineteen; he'll be leaving school in two terms, and Lupin is barely a year older. It's not that shocking, James. When you think about it, anyway. Which you're clearly not doing."

"But Lupin's our teacher!" James all but howled, and Peter silently thanked his lucky stars that Madame Pomphrey had left earlier. "And Sirius isn't gay! He would have told us! He's my best friend, I know everything about him." He degenerated into broken sentences again, clutching his aching head and muttering to himself. Peter watched him for a while, then shrugged and picked up his textbook. If James couldn't manage coherency, there was absolutely no point in talking to him until he did, so instead Peter immersed himself in the art of Divinations.

"Maybe you were wrong?" James said eventually. "I mean, your skills aren't exactly known to be up to par. No offence," he added quickly, when Peter peered indignantly at him over the top of his book.

"James, I know what I saw. Believe it or don't, it's your choice. Sirius might have kept quiet about the whole thing because he knew you'd react like this." He forestalled James's protests with an upheld hand. "I mean, you didn't exactly react well to his…family problems."

"Neither did you," James pointed out, determined that if he was to be blamed, Peter should at least share some of the guilt. "Anyway, this is completely different."

"Is it?" Peter demanded. "I don't think Sirius has made a conscious decision about this either, you know."

"I still say," James said weakly, sinking back against his pillows "you could be wrong." His eyes lit up hopefully. "In fact, you could be seeing back to that incident with the bet. Remember? Where you said you saw them kissing?" He smirked triumphantly. "So really there's nothing to worry about. The bet's over, and if anything had really been going on, Sirius would have told us."

"James," Peter explained patiently, "Divination is about seeing into the future. I don't think I'd experience flashbacks via a crystal ball. Besides which, I very much doubt my flashbacks would consist of Sirius and Professor Lupin snogging, do you?"

"But Sirius isn't gay!" James wailed, sitting up again then clutching his head. "Ow. I feel like someone just poked a red hot spike through my eye socket."

"That's because you're not lying still." Peter snapped his textbook shut, and watched with a small flash of pleasure as James winced visibly at the sound. "And you're getting agitated. Really, it's nothing to worry about. Besides," he added comfortingly, "surely even Sirius isn't stupid enough to get involved with a teacher. It could get him kicked out of school for good."

"Peter, when you say it like that it makes perfect sense," James moaned. "It is exactly what Sirius would do for the thrill of it. I hate you," he added without any real malice. "You've made me feel worse. Thanks a lot, Pete. From now on you are dead to me. Dead, do you hear? And when we get out of here I'm stealing all your textbooks because you won't need them, what with me ignoring you and not helping you with your subjects." He whimpered and curled up into a ball as Peter rolled his eyes. "In the meantime," he continued, "before I do that; maybe I can confront Sirius about this?"

"Yes, because your last confrontation with him over something potentially dangerous went so well," Peter said sarcastically. "No, James Potter, you leave well enough alone, and this time I'll do the questioning, alright?"

"Fine, fine." James pulled the covers over his head. "I hope Sirius turns you into a frog."

"You're in seventh year, not a seven year old," Peter snapped. "For goodness' sake, act your age."

"Peter," James said mournfully, emerging from beneath the blankets. "You used to be such a nice boy. What happened to you, eh?"

Peter couldn't fight back the wicked smile that spread across his face. "I met you and Sirius," he said with utmost honesty.

"Ah." James nodded sagely, settling back against his pillow and reaching for a sugar quill. "That explains a lot."

AaAaAaAa

Remus watched Sirius pace his office, flicking a sickle from one hand to the other.

"So I won't actually be able to come this weekend," he explained quietly. "I'm afraid Hogsmeade will have to wait until another time." He smiled hesitantly as Sirius paused, staring at him with sharp grey eyes. "Still, it doesn't matter too much, does it?"

Sirius shrugged, resuming his pacing. "It's fine." His voce was carefully bland and Remus frowned, wondering why the student was acting so oddly. After he'd arranged to go to Hogsmeade with Sirius, it had Sinn and Mars to remind him that the full moon fell on the same day and that he'd be in no state to go traipsing around the village in the cold. It had been a matter of minutes to come up with an excuse, but he felt guilty – lying had never been one of his strengths and Sirius was acting as though he knew Remus wasn't telling the truth.

"I'm sorry my mother's ill," he said quietly, "but it can't be helped. There's always next time."

"Yeah." Sirius tossed the coin up again, and Remus suppressed a purely reflexive shudder as he watched the silver catch the light for a moment, before Sirius's long fingers closed around it, obscuring it from view.

"Are you…" Remus swallowed, desperately wanting to appear normal, and keep the conversations within the bounds of friendship. "Are you upset? I'm really sorry if that's the case, but…" he trailed off as Sirius waved a hand. Carefully, the dark haired boy placed the coin on the surface of the desk and leant against the table, arms folded. His black hair gleamed in the light of the candles, and his expression was hidden somewhat in shadow.

"I talked to Snape today." The admittance was low; barely audible, and Sirius remained immersed in shadow, although Remus saw his eyes gleaming, reflecting the flames of the candles in a strange, demonic way. He stared, almost afraid of this mysterious, dangerous boy.

"Oh?"

"Yes. He…said something you might be interested in." Sirius's voice hadn't changed, but Remus noted how his hands suddenly gripped the edge of the desk tightly, his knuckles turning white under the pressure. "He said that he knew what I was. That I was gay. He also said," Sirius shifted, dark hair swinging forwards, obscuring his face still further as he stared hard at the ground. "He also said that he knew about us."

Remus's breath caught in his throat as he felt a cold trickle of panic begin to work its way down his spine. "How…" he croaked, and had to swallow before trying again. "How did he know? Not that there is anything…I…there isn't." The last words were almost a plea, and Sirius looked up quickly, the light catching his face and highlighting the surprise that was evident there.

"I don't know, Remus." For once, Sirius was sincere. "You said we should be friends, and I…" he frowned and rubbed his forehead, trying to order his thoughts. "I don't…know if I want that." The words were coming out slowly, almost reluctantly, and Remus stared at him, breath coming more rapidly as Sirius absently picked up the coin again, tossing it distractedly from hand to hand. "I just…I'm not gay. I can't be gay, and all this started out as…" Sirius shrugged, refusing to meet Remus's gaze. "Well," he said abruptly, making the teacher jump as he stood upright. "I just thought I'd tell you about Snape."

Remus nodded, ruthlessly squashing the part of him that wanted to know what Sirius might have said had he not interrupted himself. He was so distracted, that he almost missed Sirius pushing his hair out of his eyes a hesitant smile lighting his face.

"So," the student said. "You're missing Hogsmeade. Never mind." He moved past Remus towards the door, fingers almost-accidentally brushing Remus's. Turning, he smiled at the teacher, who shifted uncomfortably, aware of the lie, and the fact that Sirius might know he was lying. The clear grey gaze met his own, and he nearly flinched, but Sirius only tilted his head, still smiling. The sombre young man of moments ago had vanished to be replaced by a cheerful, somewhat brash boy, who smirked teasingly as Remus stared at him, momentarily nonplussed. Here, again, was a clear remnant of Sirius's childhood – the ability to cover up emotion with an arrogant demeanour.

"I'd best give you some money so you can get home then." Sirius tossed the coin to Remus, who caught it reflexively, without thinking. As his fingers closed around it, he hissed, dropping it abruptly as the silver burnt his hand. Hoping Sirius wouldn't notice anything amiss, he looked up immediately and smiled.

"Sorry, I'm a terrible catch."

Sirius stared at him, eyes wide. "Let me see your hand," he demanded abruptly, holding out his own to take Remus's. Remus flinched and clenched his hand tightly into a fist, shaking his head. Sirius dropped his own hand, looking thoughtful. "Your fingers were burnt," he said. "I saw." He frowned. "What caused that? You can't have been cooking – there's no need. And," he continued, as Remus shifted uneasily, "you've no need to be making potions, either."

Remus stared at him, mutely, unable to think of a single thing to say. Sirius was talking half to himself now.

"So there's no way you could have burnt your hand. Anyway, you weren't favouring it earlier." There was a long pause, during which Sirius stared hard at Remus, who in turn stared hard at the ground.

"Oh god…" Sirius's hoarse whisper made Remus's head jerk up. The student was pale, his eyes wide as he stared fixedly at Remus. As the teacher watched, he noticed Sirius was starting to shake as he took a hesitant step backwards. "No…you can't be…they wouldn't let one teach here." Grey eyes flared with sudden anger, and although Sirius wasn't making much sense, he didn't need to. Remus knew what he was talking about. "Those scars," Sirius snapped, still moving backwards. "I saw them! I didn't think anything of them at the time! And you're always ill. Quite regularly, in fact." Venom began to replace fear.

"Sirius…" Remus stepped forwards, reaching out pleadingly.

"Stay away from me, werewolf!" Sirius snarled, stumbling back a few more steps until he hit the door. Wrenching it open, he stared accusingly at Remus, who had frozen, pain flickering across his face. "You! You're a fucking werewolf, aren't you!" Sirius's voice was getting louder by the minute. "And to think I –" He made a disgusted noise and Remus winced.

"Sirius, please."

"No." Sirius pointed a shaking finger at Remus, his expression grim. "I don't want you coming near me, do you hear? You stay away from me, and you stay away from my friends. I don't ever want you near me again!" He spat the last sentence in disgust, his expression vicious. "You're a liar and a dark creature."

Not waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and fled down the corridor, leaving Remus standing shocked and trembling in his office.

To Be Continued...
CB: Several of you mentioned you couldn't view the Mars/Sinn stories linked to last time. That's because I was stupid and put the URL in incorrectly. Here, for your reading pleasure, is a new URL:
http/ www. livejournal. com/tools/memories.bml?user cobalt(place underscore here)violet (remove all gaps)