CB: I do apologise for making you all wait so long, it wasn't fair of me, but perhaps I should have mentioned I've had hugely important examinations the last couple of months, and recently started a new job. So, apologies again, but it couldn't be helped. (Oh, and just one more thing – thoughts and flashbacks are in italics, but mucks up my formatting, even when I use the preview feature to check everything is as it should be, so you'll have to forgive me. I check, I recheck, and it's fine right up until it's uploaded.)
I would thank you all by name, but there's just too many of you! (Seriously!) Thanks next time!
'It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought
Without accepting it.'
- Aristotle (384-322 BC)
The figure on the tower top was nothing but a black huddled shape, outlined against the stars.
Sirius's lips were set in a grim line, his robes drawn tight around him against the biting cold, which he didn't even notice. His fingers were white where they were gripping his arms, which were wrapped around himself, although in comfort or anger, he couldn't tell. His eyes were fixed on the distant horizon, glittering with a strange, furious light.
He should have realised sooner. Remus Lupin: Professor; man; monster. Hell, he'd been around the teacher long enough. Sirius prided himself on his intelligence and observational skills, and the fact that he hadn't noticed anything amiss sooner was worrying. He'd been half unsure about his guess when he'd blurted it out, but the odd, fearful, guilty look of the teacher had been all that was needed for Remus Lupin to become condemned in Sirius's eyes.
'How,' he thought furiously, 'can Dumbledore have allowed this? He's a menace – a danger to society!' Sirius hissed through his teeth, furious and frightened, and more uncomfortable than he was willing to admit. 'He'd kill without a second thought. He lusts after human flesh.' The thought unnerved him: a dark, dangerous creature that lurked beneath the mask of a quiet young man. 'My teacher,' he snarled mentally, and felt an unexpected shiver run up his spine, 'and he could have killed any of us, at any time.'
The thought that he, Sirius Black, had been deceived was yet another sore spot – another black mark against the already dubious name of Lupin. At this point, Sirius was quite willing to believe the worst about the man, purely on the basis that he had lied and, quite frankly, pretended to be human, which was most definitely not the case.
The words 'filth', 'traitor' and 'animal' kept reverberating around Sirius's head, echoing and cross echoing until he uttered a small groan and buried his face in his hands, gritting his teeth. He was getting a headache and the evening had not gone the way he'd planned. He could almost feel generations of Black eyes staring at him – condemning him for even thinking of becoming involved with something so impure, so deceitful.
'I hate him,' Sirius decided, rubbing his eyes, trying to quell the furious burn of anger. 'He's a monster and I hate him. I'd be glad if I never saw him again.' He swallowed, bitterness filling his mouth. He wanted to storm back to Remus's office – confront him again. He wanted to go to Dumbledore and demand that the teacher be fired. He wanted to hate the werewolf and – in spite of it all – found he couldn't. He wanted to shout; he wanted to scream; he wanted to hurt something…
He wanted to cry, and that realisation hurt most of all.
AaAaAaAa
James Potter had always considered himself an amiable sort of bloke.
At the age of five he'd decided that when he grew up, amiable was what he had wanted to be; and on the whole he had achieved this. He didn't really have any enemies – bar the Slytherins, of course, but nobody liked them – and he got on well with most people. He was, he often admitted, probably too sympathetic for his own good, and tended to get too involved in the heat of the moment, but it was genuinely agreed that his heart was in the right place.
At this moment in time, however, James Potter was not feeling amiable.
He was feeling angry, confused, and upset because he was angry and confused. He was also feeling uncomfortable, and Peter's complete lack of interest over the whole matter was not improving his general feeling of well-being. He was also quite sure that the hospital wing was the last place he should be having this conversation, particularly at twelve o'clock at night, when he should have been asleep.
"It's not about him snogging blokes," he said, then a moment later shrugged. "Well, it is. But it's also…it's because it's Professor Lupin." He sighed, raking a hand through his dishevelled hair. "I mean, I try to be a good friend, and I've been thinking about this since you left earlier, Pete, and I want to understand, I really do, but I just feel…odd about the whole thing, you know?"
Peter chewed thoughtfully on a sugar quill, his face pale in the wand light. "Maybe it's that you feel you don't know him any more?" he suggested.
James shook his head. "It's not even that. It's like…I know I shouldn't care that he's interested in blokes and that he's my friend no matter what, and the logical part of my mind is telling me this is right, but there's something that's making me a little nervous about seeing him again now." James trailed off, raking his hands through his hair. "And the fact that you said he's going to get involved with a teacher makes me even worse. I'm worried for him, too."
Peter nodded sagely, the sugar quill finished, and handed James the packet of chocolate frogs. "There's Quidditch cards in them," he offered, and James opened one, looking curious.
"Baldric of Bulgaria again," he said sourly, and tossed the card onto the bedside table. Biting into the frog with alarming ferocity he scowled at the bed cover. "Pete…do you think we should talk to Sirius about this?"
"What do you mean?" Peter had dropped his frog by accident, and was now hanging upside down off the bed, trying to find it. "You think we should let him talk to us about it first?" He sat up again, flushed and dishevelled, but triumphant – the frog clutched tightly in one hand, the chocolate already melting slightly. "Might be an idea." He wiped his sticky fingers absently on his pyjama top.
"Do you think Sirius even knows he's gay?" James asked, wincing at the chocolate streaks on Peter's clean pyjamas.
"Doubt it." Peter shrugged and finished his frog. "He's never struck me as the most tolerant type anyway, so something like that would be a bit of a shock, I think."
"Sirius is tolerant!" James snapped. "It's just his upbringing that's messed with him."
Peter shrugged again. "Yeah, I know, but James think about it – if he's been raised to think anything that's not pure blooded in concept is wrong, how do you think he's going to react to something like this?" He paused for a moment, but James – who had opened his mouth to retort furiously – had fallen silent and was staring at him thoughtfully. "You see? I doubt Sirius would want us forcing the issue. He'll probably have enough to cope with as it is. So no, in answer to your original question, I think we should let him talk to us."
"But how do I…"
"Act? React?" Peter began clearing away the debris of the impromptu midnight feast. "As normal. I think we should just treat him as normal." He slipped off the bed. "I'll go and see if he's back in the dormitory now. When did Madame Pomphrey say you could be released from here?"
"Probably tomorrow." James yawned. "But I've been banned from leaving the castle for a while. Apparently it's just in case I suddenly…collapse, or something."
"Collapse?" Peter sounded faintly disbelieving. "After all the Quidditch injuries you've had? This was only a bump on the head."
"A hard one," James reminded him.
"Even so!"
"Nothing we can do, mate. Still, I'm sure I can trust you and Sirius to retrieve all mischief making goods for me from Hogsmeade, eh?"
"We'll try our best," Peter said dryly, and slipped from the room, just before Madame Pomphrey appeared on her nightly round, to check that James was still well.
AaAaAaAa
"You look fucking terrible." Mars chewed happily on a piece of toast. Sinn, who was sitting next to him at the breakfast table, eyed the food with distaste and sought refuge in a cup of black tea.
"Thanks," Remus said weakly, sitting down next to the Divinations teacher. "I had a bit of a rough night."
"Oh?" Mars leant across and dished a heap of scrambled eggs onto Remus's plate. "Eat up and tell us about it." He smiled, expression mildly curious and turned his attention back to his food. Sinn, who paid more attention to people, watched Remus thoughtfully. Carefully setting his teacup to one side – well out of the reach of Mars's rather sharp elbows – he tapped Remus on the shoulder.
"What's the problem?"
"I…" Remus looked around to make sure no one else was listening. His mouth was dry and the dull, sick ache in his stomach that had started last night refused to go away. Sinn's concerned expression and Mars's vague curiosity only served to highlight what he'd soon be losing. "Someone…knows."
"Knows?" Mars finished his toast and started on several rashers of bacon. "Knows about what?"
Sinn, however, understood immediately what Remus meant, and his face turned white and grim. "Who? A student, or someone at Hogsmeade?"
"A student," Remus said softly, wrapping his fingers around a mug of tea to hide the shaking in his hands. He stared grimly down at the table; trying to breathe slowly and wishing that he'd never even thought of teaching; never agreed to come to Hogwarts and never, ever met Sirius Black. He bit his lip as Mars made a surprised noise around a mouthful of food, and felt a quick brush of movement as Sinn elbowed his friend.
"Are you sure this student knows?" Sinn asked softly, and Mars paused long enough in his eating to shoot a poisonous glare at several students who seemed to be paying a little too much attention to the staff table.
"Quite sure," Remus said miserably. "He confronted me about it."
"Who was it?" Mars leant across, blue eyes sharp as he looked curiously at Remus.
"Erm." Remus flushed and shifted in his seat, his heart lurching. "Sirius Black."
There was a long pause as Sinn and Mars stared at Remus, their faces painted with identical expressions of mixed horror and sympathy. The other members of staff continued to eat their respective breakfasts with cheerful oblivion, and the noise from the students crowded in as Remus sighed and dropped his head into his hands. Nobody paid any attention to the suddenly small, morbid group of teachers at one end of the staff table.
Mars broke the uncomfortable pause by swearing fluently and at great length.
"I need help," Remus said miserably. "What should I do?"
" – little bastard I'll kill him myself if he's so much as breathed a word to anyone…"
"Mars! You are not helping!" Sinn snapped, slamming his mug down on the table and turned to Remus, his expression grim. "You need to speak to Dumbledore, I think. Perhaps he can talk to the erstwhile Mr Black – convince him not to speak of what he knows?" Sinn raised one, dark eyebrow. "I mean, if Black doesn't tell anyone, you can keep your job. Nobody will object if they don't know."
"And I'll wring his scrawny little pureblood neck if he's said anything," Mars promised. "I mean, no offence Remus, but when you first arrived I was really sceptical about teaching with a…well, you know." The Sports teacher glanced around to make sure no one was listening. "But now I'm not." He shrugged, completely unashamed. "So I'll murder the little sod if he's even hinted about your condition to anyone."
"Professor Fogarty," Sinn drawled, picking up his mug again, "I do believe you have a heart after all." He smiled at Remus, including him in the joke.
Mars stared at his friend, expression unusually serious. "Never said I didn't," he said frankly.
Sinn coughed and glanced away. "So, Remus." He nodded in Dumbledore's direction. "I suggest you speak to Albus as soon as possible." He drummed his fingers impatiently on the breakfast table. "Are you alright?"
"Yes…I'm…" Remus ran shaking fingers through his hair, his face pale. "I'm fine," he said, smiling weakly. "I just never expected anyone to catch on so soon." In truth he felt ill, but he was hardly going to tell Sinn and Mars that. The thought that Sirius could have blurted his secret out to the whole year already was enough to make him want to curl up and die, but the fact that between them they'd had…whatever they'd had, only made matters worse. What if Sirius had told everyone about nearly sleeping with a teacher? Remus could quite easily be arrested and he doubted he'd even get a trial, being what he was.
And underneath all those worries was the strange, niggling feeling that he was more upset by Sirius's reaction than by the fact that he might tell someone.
AaAaAaAa
"He didn't come back all night," Peter said worriedly as they sat down for breakfast.
James raised an eyebrow. "You sure? Maybe he got back late and you were asleep, then left early again."
"No, he didn't come back to the dorm," Peter insisted. "His bed hasn't even been slept in." He sighed and piled bacon onto his plate. When Peter was worried or upset, he tended to eat. James watched him for a moment, then helped himself to scrambled eggs and a couple of slices of toast. They both sat in silence for a few minutes, chewing thoughtfully until James broke the moment by clearing his throat.
"Here he comes, look."
Sirius slipped into the Great Hall looking dishevelled, tired and rather upset. Not bothering to do anything more than nod at one of the Quidditch players who called out a friendly greeting to him, he slid into his seat next to James. Pouring a glass of orange juice, he allowed his stiff posture to relax, slumping so that his head was on the table, dangerously close to a bit of dropped ketchup.
"Morning," James said, shoving his slipping glasses back up his nose. Frowning down at his plate, he avoided Peter's stern gaze and tried to keep his tone as normal as possible. "Peter said you didn't go back to the dorm last night."
"No." Sirius's voice was soft; drained. Neither Peter nor James could see his face.
"Poor Pete, did you have a lonely night? Me not there, Sear not there…" James paused and swallowed. "So, where were you then?"
"Thinking." Sirius rubbed his eyes but made no attempt to sit up. Yawning, he let his gaze move slowly across the surface of the table, encountering crumbs and pieces of dropped breakfast. He sighed and shut his eyes. "Sorry I didn't come and visit you. How's the head?"
"Not so bad." James attempted to sound cheerful. "I had a bit of a headache this morning when I woke up, but it's all fixed now." He coughed, nervously. "So…er…what were you thinking about, exactly? If you don't mind me asking, that is." Next to him, Peter tensed slightly, praying there wouldn't be a sudden outburst or that James had inadvertently asked the one question Sirius didn't want to hear.
"I was thinking…" Sirius opened his eyes again, but made no move to look at anyone. "I was thinking about dark creatures."
"Bit of an odd topic," Peter said lightly, washing his breakfast down with apple juice.
"Not really."
There was something very wrong with Sirius, James was beginning to realise. Even when he was in a bad mood, his friend was more likely to shout or start a fight than sit with a dull, listless expression on his face. This quiet despair did not seem in keeping with his normal character – something was clearly troubling him, and the vague undertone of bitter anger and pain that kept creeping into his voice despite his neutral expression was enough to warn James that something was Very, Very Wrong.
"What's the matter?" he asked softly, and Sirius, for the first time, met his gaze.
"James…what if…what if you thought you knew someone completely and it turned out you didn't? What if they revealed something terrible about themselves – something that changed you perception of them so utterly that you were furious with them and didn't know what to do about it?"
"Well…I don't know," James said dubiously. "I'm not sure what you mean. I think I'd have to know the terrible thing first, because doesn't it depend how bad it is?" He frowned. "This isn't about your family, is it?" He pursed his lips as Sirius shook his head, and watched as Peter leant forwards, his expression intent.
"Snape hasn't upset you, has he?"
"Ha!" Sirius's laugh was a hoarse bark – bitter, but still faintly amused. "As if that greasy git could upset me!"
James and Peter exchanged dubious glances about this, then James shrugged.
"Alright, what is it then?"
"Not here." Sirius glanced around, face pale. "Someone might overhear." He stood up and motioned for James and Peter to follow him from the Great Hall. Once outside, he looked around, spotted an empty classroom and hauled his two friends into it, shutting the door behind him. James and Peter watched him, both looking slightly alarmed by this strange, almost nervous side of Sirius.
"So," James said, as soon as the door was shut, "what's all this about?" He leant against a desk, arms folded.
"It's about…Professor Lupin." Sirius ignored the knowing look that passed between James and Peter, not even bothering to acknowledge their sudden camaraderie and conspiratorial attitude. "There are a few things you don't know." He cleared his throat, fingers knotting together nervously.
"Mate," James said gently, and Peter smiled – pleased to see that none of his earlier insecurity about how to act around Sirius was showing through. "We know."
"You do?" Sirius's eyes widened, then narrowed abruptly. "How?"
"Peter saw it in Divinations." Peter nodded his confirmation and James scratched his head sheepishly. "We've both been talking about it and decided we don't care."
"You may not care, but I do!" Sirius burst out, torn between desperation, fear and anger. "I mean how could the school allow this to happen? I'm surprised there wasn't uproar from the Governors." He stiffened, suddenly. "How come I wasn't told? Malfoy's got close links to the school…"
"Wait a minute!" James held up his hands, breaking through Sirius's furious tirade. "I don't think we're talking about the same thing here. What do you mean 'how could the school allow this to happen'?"
"How could they let Remus…Professor Lupin…Remus teach here!" Sirius drew a deep breath, looking from James's confused face to Peter's. "He's a werewolf!"
"What?" James paled and Peter let out a startled squeak. "Are you sure?"
"Quite sure," Sirius said, slumping to the floor and resting his back against a desk leg. He looked completely miserable, suddenly, and Peter sat down next to him, reasoning that he might need some comforting. "I found out last night. Everything just sort of…clicked." He smiled bitterly. "I don't think I would have realised if he hadn't burnt his fingers catching a sickle. And then I remembered he was gone every month, and I've seen his scars…"
"How – ?" James began, intent on asking how exactly Sirius had seen Professor Lupin's scars, but Peter, who was shaking his head frantically, cut him off.
"He's a werewolf and a dark creature. He's dangerous." Sirius pursed his lips, looking ill. "And I trusted him."
"And you're quite sure about this?" Peter asked cautiously. "There's no mistake?"
"None." Sirius laughed, hollowly. "He…the creature as good as told me so with his guilty expression." He looked up sharply at James, who was frowning, his gaze fixed on the floor. "Can you really believe that Dumbledore let it teach here?"
"I can." James's voice was weary. "It's like Dumbledore to give equal opportunities." He was shrewd enough to realise that Dumbledore had let Professor Lupin teach for the simple reason that he would not have found a job elsewhere. "And I think the reason he didn't tell anyone is because…well, could you imagine the uproar?" He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Merlin's balls, I didn't expect to be dealing with this so early in the morning. A werewolf…"
"A werewolf," Sirius confirmed grimly.
"Ah," said a new voice from the doorway. "I think it's a good job I've found you."
Sirius, James and Peter all jumped.
Dumbledore smiled amiably.
"A word in my office?"
AaAaAaAa
"The…er…the problem with disposing of Boggarts is of course that you will always be more successful if there is at least two of you." Remus absently shifted the papers on his desk and glanced towards the clock, which was still showing the same time as five seconds ago. "Now I'm sure most have you will have seen or heard of one before now, and I believe your last teacher gave you instructions on how to get rid of them…"
Several students shifted, bored; but Remus paid no attention to them.
'I wonder if Dumbledore's found him yet. I hope he hasn't told anyone…oh please god don't let him have told anyone…'
He bit his lip, the sick feeling of dread welling up inside of him again, choking his words. The class waited as their teacher trailed off, and when no more of the lecture seemed forthcoming, one of them bravely put up her hand and asked whether he was feeling well. This seemed to startle him, and several students exchanged curious glanced as Remus hesitated, taking a deep breath.
"No, I'm, er, not feeling well. Thank you. Perhaps we should continue this lesson tomorrow." Remus smiled weakly. "Class dismissed. Please wait in here quietly until your next lesson." Swiftly he packed his briefcase and headed towards the staff room, leaving his class to manage itself for the last twenty minutes.
Professor McGonagall was enjoying a quiet cup of tea when he entered, and she looked up, her eyebrows raised. When she saw who it was, she smiled.
"I thought you had a lesson?"
"I did," Remus said, dropping his briefcase on the floor and sinking down onto the sofa. "But I'm…not feeling particularly well."
McGonagall offered him a mug of tea, her gaze sharp. "The Headmaster has informed me of your situation," she said softly. "And if he hadn't, Professor Fogarty's rather, er, loud threats earlier this morning were enough to set several alarm bells ringing; metaphorically speaking, of course." She smiled kindly as Remus let out a small whimper, burying his face in his hands. "Are you really that worried?" she asked, settling back again. "I'm sure Albus will ensure no one breathes a word."
"It's not just that, it's…" Remus bit his tongue, on the verge of confessing everything. He swallowed and started again. "It's the fact that I was meant to be looking after Sirius – Albus asked me to – and I feel…I feel as though in some way…I've failed him." As he spoke the words, Remus realised they were true. He had failed Sirius. The boy needed someone to trust, and it might have been possible for him to find that in Remus – but not now.
"Sirius has a lot of issues that he needs to work through on his own," Professor McGonagall said gently. "I don't think even he realises quite how many. All Albus was asking was that you tried to be a…friend for him during this difficult time." She sipped her tea. "But it's not your fault that he found out."
'It is,' Remus wanted to tell her. 'It is precisely my fault that he found out. If Sirius hadn't spent so much time with me…if he hadn't began to pay attention to me in the first place…if I hadn't encouraged him…' He twisted his fingers together nervously, trying to hide the shaking.
"Don't worry," McGonagall continued. "Everything will work out for the best." But her words had a hollow ring to them, and even Remus, upset as he was, could see that she wasn't as certain as she tried to appear. She nodded approvingly as he took a sip of his tea, nearly burning his tongue, and made another stab at reassuring him. "Anyway, Sirius is an intelligent boy. I'm sure he'll realise that you're nothing to be afraid of."
"You didn't see him," Remus whispered. "You didn't see how he reacted. I've never seen him so…angry." McGonagall frowned, as he looked straight at her for the first time. His eyes were haunted, his face pale, but, strangely, there was a burning resolve in his gaze as he sat up straighter. "But…you're right. He looked scared, as well. Maybe he just needs to learn that there's nothing to be scared of."
"See?" Professor McGonagall smiled and picked up her Transfigurations book. "That's the spirit. He'll come 'round, I'm sure of it."
AaAaAaAa
Dumbledore watched James and Peter leave his office then turned to Sirius, his expression amiable.
"So," he said cheerfully, "Mr Potter and Mr Pettigrew have given me their assurances that not one word will be breathed about Professor Lupin's condition, but I notice you remained silent." He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with good-natured humour. "An astonishing feat, I must confess Mr Black. I've never seen you so quiet." He rummaged in his desk for a moment before producing a crumpled paper bag. "Humbug?"
"No. Thank you." Sirius shook his head, leaning back in his chair. Dumbledore eyed him thoughtfully for a moment before unwrapping a sweet and popping it into his mouth.
"You see, Sirius, Professor Lupin is a remarkable young man. He has struggled all his life to overcome public prejudice and do something he truly loves – teaching. I thought here at Hogwarts we could offer him that opportunity, and I must admit I very nearly had to fight Beauxbatons for him." Dumbledore placed the paper bag to one side. "Professor Lupin's condition, should it ever be revealed, will be the only cause for him being sacked. It will not matter that he is an extremely intelligent young man, and an excellent teacher; all that will matter to the hundreds of parents who will be writing angry letters is that once a month he transforms into a wolf – something he has no control over." The Headmaster leant back in his chair, the tips of his fingers pressed together. "That is why I have asked that you do not publicise his condition."
"I can understand that," Sirius said wearily, and Dumbledore noted with interest that he had slumped in his seat, "but I don't understand, Sir. I mean…why? He's…he's a dark creature; an animal…"
"Sirius," Dumbledore said gently, "Remus is no more an animal than you or I. What you are essentially saying is that we should be prejudiced towards him because of who – or in this case, what – he is. Let us take a different approach, for a moment." He smiled, peering over the top of his glasses. "Let us use the example of school houses. Say that James was a Gryffindor, but you had been placed in…oh, I don't know, Slytherin. Would you hate James simply for being who he is? For being placed in Gryffindor – something he had no control over?"
"Well…" Sirius fiddled awkwardly with the sleeve of his robes. "I see your point, Sir, but James wouldn't murder people simply because he's in Gryffindor. Re – Professor Lupin can, because he's a werewolf."
"You have always struck me," Dumbledore said with deceptive charm, "as an extremely intelligent young man, Sirius." Sirius frowned, wary of what Dumbledore was about to say next. "But I must confess you are being deliberately stubborn about the whole matter. Would you mind terribly – even if you do not wish to acknowledge Professor Lupin's presence ever again – not talking of his condition to other students?"
"What would you do," Sirius said slowly, deliberately, "if I said 'no'?"
"There is absolutely nothing I could do," Dumbledore said, rummaging for another humbug. "I mean, technically I could place a memory charm on you, but since Mr Potter and Mr Pettigrew now know the whole situation, I'm sure they would re-enlighten you before long. Which would mean," he continued, unwrapping a retrieved sweet, "that I would have to place memory charms on all three of you. But I'm not going to because I believe, Sirius, that this is a decision you alone must make."
"I want to tell people," Sirius spat, his lips thinning into a furious line. "I want to warn students of what he really is." Dumbledore regarded him impassively, sucking his humbug. "But," he continued, and the hard edges of his mouth softened slightly, "I'm not going to."
"Oh?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "You're not?"
"No." Sirius ran a hand through his hair, his voice suddenly low and tired. "I told James and Peter, because I wanted their opinions, and I've heard what they think – they don't care about it as much as I do." He sighed and scrubbed a hand across his face. "And as much as the whole situation disgusts me, and no matter how furious I am, I'm not…I'm not going to ruin someone's life."
For the first time in a long while, Dumbledore saw one of his brightest students let go of his arrogant, brilliant mask, and reveal himself properly. Sirius Black, the Headmaster had always reasoned, had more to him than met the eye. Not many staff agreed with this assessment, but Dumbledore was rather pleased that he had been proved right. Here, in his office, was a world-weary young man who needed understanding – something that people his own age probably couldn't give him.
"Why aren't you going to disclose Remus's secret?" he asked gently, offering the humbug bag again, and this time Sirius took a sweet, rolling it between long fingers.
"Because…because…" Sirius hesitated for a moment, then met Dumbledore's gaze squarely. "Because he was the first one who saw me as Sirius, and not as Sirius Black. Even James and Peter don't do that; not really."
"Mr Black." Dumbledore's voice was quietly amused. "Just when I think there's no hope for you and that you'll never show your hidden depths, you come out with something like this and amaze me." He smiled, and Sirius scowled in embarrassment. "After the number of detentions and warnings you have received this term, I half believed you were headed for serious trouble, but once again you have proved you have maturity."
"I only said I wouldn't tell because I feel like I owe him one," Sirius muttered. "It still doesn't mean I have to accept a werewolf teaching here."
"No," Dumbledore agreed. "But you are defying your background – indeed your very heritage – by remaining silent on the subject. Your family would most certainly condemn you for your discretion."
"I am not my family." Sirius's voice was cool.
"No, you're not. And that is very much in evidence here."
There was a pause; the only sounds in the office were the soft tick of the clock and an occasional fragment of sound that filtered up from the rest of the school. Sirius unwrapped his humbug and popped it into his mouth, crunching it without actually tasting anything. Dumbledore regarded him thoughtfully, his fingers absently tapping a rhythm against his robe-clad knee.
"Sirius," he said eventually, and Sirius raised an eyebrow in question, unable to speak around a mouthful of humbug. "Is there anything else you would like to discuss with me?"
The tension in the room grew thicker, and Dumbledore, who had merely been conjecturing that there was something more severely wrong with Sirius, found that he gained no satisfaction in apparently having guessed correctly.
"There's nothing," Sirius said after a moment, and he stumbled over the words, tongue made thick by something he couldn't quite identify – terror or guilt, perhaps. Here was his opportunity to completely destroy Lupin – to make sure he never saw him again; to teach him a lesson about lying to a Black, but Sirius simply couldn't do it. All he had to do was reveal that Remus had been fooling around with him, and Dumbledore would have no choice but to set up an inquiry. Sirius's fingers curled into fists, and he avoided Dumbledore's keen gaze. He couldn't do it. He couldn't say those words and he didn't know why.
"Well." Dumbledore sighed and rubbed his forehead, looking tired. "In that case if you would be so good as to shut the door on your way out, Sirius." He smiled, but didn't push the matter of Sirius's secrecy. Instead, he watched as one of his brightest students stepped quickly outside, nearly tripping over his own robes in his haste to escape.
"Well," the Headmaster repeated as the door shut behind Sirius, and he stared thoughtfully at nothing in particular, and wondered.
AaAaAaAa
"I think," James said with dead certainty, "I am going to be sick."
"You're not," Sirius snapped, trying to tug his tie straight. "You'll be fine." His reassuring smile belied his rather irritated tone, and Peter sighed, handing James a sheaf of music papers.
"Here, hold onto these. You'll need them in a minute."
"Don't remind me; don't remind me," James moaned, and Sirius clapped him on the shoulder. "I can't believe I ever agreed to this. What was I thinking? I actually wanted to stand up in public and make a fool of myself." He whimpered, looking pale. Sirius, who had had the sensible notion of moving well away in case James did throw up, tugged a lone shoe towards himself, then tossed it to Peter.
"James, you stand up in public and make a fool of yourself every day," he said. "Today just happens to be slightly different. Besides which, you won't make a fool of yourself. You've got talent. Even McGonagall said so. You'll be fine"
"Easy for you to say." James watched as Peter hastily tied the laces of his errant shoe. "You don't have to sing. All you've got to do is stand there and pluck a few strings, or whatever it is you do." He scrubbed a hand through his hair, making the ends stand up even more than normal. "Do you think the panel of judges will care if I'm sick on them?" he enquired weakly, and Sirius rolled his eyes.
"You throw up and I'll hex you. We'll lose to Slytherin!"
"I'm so glad," Peter commented blithely, "that I wasn't stupid enough to sign up for this music competition. I don't want to imagine what I would have been threatened with." He laughed as James whimpered.
"Shut up, Peter!" Sirius sang out from between gritted teeth, as they both watched James turn a faint shade of green. "You're only making things worse."
"I know," Peter whispered. "But it's going to be my only chance to pay James back for all those times he's terrified me." He and Sirius exchanged conspiratorial grins, just as their friend made a vague retching noise and lunged for Sirius's bed. Sirius leapt after him, hauling him back by the collar of his robes and threatening him with all the curses known to wizard kind if he so much as looked at Sirius's bed again, let alone attempted to throw up on it.
"Can we just go?" James whined, already halfway to the door as he attempted to shake off Sirius – who believed he might make another attempt for the bed sheets. He breathed a sigh of relief as they stepped out of the dormitory, making their way towards the Great Hall.
"At least it's not the whole school competing," Sirius commented as they pushed their way out of the portrait hole. "We'd be there forever." Peter made a vague noise of agreement, but James simply paled further at the mention of the 'whole school'.
"I can't do this," he squeaked as they made their way down the stairs and into the Great Hall. It was crowded with students, all sitting where they wished instead of at their respective House tables. The staff table had been removed and replaced with a smaller one, at which sat three wizards and two witches. There was no need for a stage, but it was evident where the musicians were meant to perform, as music stands and a piano had been placed just in front of the judges.
"You can and will do this," Sirius muttered, absently shoving some younger students out of the way. "There's no way you can back out now without looking like a complete coward, anyway." He stood on the balls of his feet and peered across the hall. "Ah, I think I can see my violin. Come on." Using a fistful of James's robes, he dragged his friend off to where several other Gryffindor musicians were sitting – all looking pale and nervous.
"I'll just sit here then, shall I?" Peter remarked dryly to the empty air.
AaAaAaAa
Remus took a deep breath and tried to keep from yawning. Next to him, Mars made no such effort and slumped in his seat, his expression a mixture of boredom and annoyance. To Mars's right, Sinn had his arms folded and was managing to look interested. Several other members of staff – including McGonagall, Maple, Flitwick and Dumbledore – appeared to be more genuinely involved in the proceedings. 'Perhaps,' Remus rationalised, 'it's because they're Heads of Houses.'
"Potter was good," Mars admitted grudgingly. "And so was that little Hufflepuff girl: the blonde one with the flute."
"Annabel?" Sinn enquired.
The Sports teacher shrugged. "Maybe? I don't know all their names – I only recognise kids who play Quidditch." He ignored Sinn's exasperated look.
"I liked the Slytherin choir," Remus admitted, earning himself a quick nudge from Mars.
"For shame, for shame. Slytherins!"
"Teachers shouldn't have favourites," Sinn remarked dryly. Mars shot him an indignant look, his expression wounded.
"I don't have favourites. Maybe just because I sort of, kind of, really, really hope Slytherin doesn't win doesn't mean I'm singling out any other house for special cheering treatment. Although I'd rather like Ravenclaw to win…"
"See? Favouritism!"
Remus tuned out the good-natured noise of Mars and the sharp sarcasm of Sinn, and turned his attention to the students. Most of them weren't actually paying attention to the musicians – too intent on gossiping and laughing with one another. Even over the music – currently a piano concerto from a smiling Hufflepuff – there was a low hum of noise, although scattered applause broke out as the piece finished.
Letting his attention wander, Remus's gaze took in Severus Snape, who was sitting with his fellow Slytherins, and looking as miserable as ever. As both a teacher and an outsider himself, Remus really felt he should feel sorry for the boy, but there was something about Snape that he didn't like. It could be the fact that he strongly suspected Snape had known about (and here his heart clenched painfully) the situation between himself and Sirius, before the whole werewolf mess. It could also have been the fact that Snape watched him closely as he taught, and it felt as though he was just waiting for Remus to slip up somehow.
He was so wrapped up in this dark contemplation, that he completely missed the opening bars of the next piece, until Mars's shoulder jogged him slightly, and a grudgingly murmured "he's good" dragged his awareness back to the present.
Sirius was standing before the judges. He looked neater than he normally did, Remus realised, possibly because his school robes were not in their normal dishevelled state. He bit his lip at the thought and transferred his gaze to his lap, listening to the slow, strange song of the violin. Apart from classes, he hadn't seen Sirius for the past two weeks; it seemed like outside of Defence Against the Dark Arts, the student simply didn't exist. Remus was not stupid; he was aware Sirius was avoiding him, and it had been what he'd expected, even after Dumbledore had come to assure him Sirius would tell no one about his true nature. But it still hurt, and Remus couldn't work out why.
Sirius Black had been trouble from the start, and now that he wasn't pressing his attentions on Remus, Remus felt that he should be relieved. Instead, every time Sirius deliberately avoided his eye, or sneered in his general direction, his stomach sank and he felt a small, hard lump in his throat.
'It's just worry,' he assured himself, absently noting that Sirius looked more tired than he had two weeks ago. 'I'm worried that he'll tell someone that I'm a werewolf. That's the only reason I get a little…agitated.' He sighed, silently cursing Sirius for being so unpredictable; so infuriating and so…so…Remus frowned, unable to think of a satisfactory way to describe the many characteristics of Sirius Black.
Giving up, he sighed and reluctantly returned his gaze to his student, studying him. Sirius's fingers were flying rapidly across the strings of the violin, his eyes were shut and he was frowning in concentration. But even as he swayed slightly, moving with the force of his playing, Remus couldn't help thinking that the music sounded a little…off. Slightly flat; as though Sirius wasn't putting as much effort into the performance as he could.
Apparently he wasn't the only teacher to think so, either. Sinn and Mars – who had never heard Sirius play before – were both looking pleasantly surprised, but Professor McGonagall was watching him with the cool air of a teacher who knows her pupil is not performing to the best of his ability.
There was something broken and forlorn about Sirius's music, and Remus suspected this was largely unintentional. It struck him, with faint irony, that it was only when Sirius was playing the violin that he was even remotely honest – to himself and to others. Remus pursed his lips, unwilling to examine this flash of insight in too much detail, and watched as Sirius finished his piece and nodded politely to the judges, his face expressionless.
'That was strangely anti-climatic,' the teacher thought. 'After so long practicing, and so many threats from Minerva, I'm surprised you didn't do better, Sirius.' He sighed as Mars leant over towards Sinn, muttering something in his ear, and unwillingly let his attention remain fixed on his student. 'What is wrong with you?'
AaAaAaAa
Sirius knew he hadn't done well.
He had been feeling reasonably confident about playing in front of a large audience – attention had never bothered him – but then he had noticed that the teachers were watching and, more specifically, he was there. Playing in front of Remus Lupin was something Sirius had not intended to do again. The creature did not deserve to hear music, and the fact that playing his violin was something personal somehow made Sirius feel worse. He honestly hadn't thought Lupin would be there – hadn't really bothered to consider the idea, honestly – and the fact that he was, and that he was watching him had only made things worse.
And somehow, somehow, the music had become more personal than normal, until Sirius honestly felt that he couldn't play – couldn't place his emotions on display so publicly. (What those emotions were, even he couldn't say.) So he'd played badly. He'd refused to put any emotion into the piece. By shutting himself away, he reasoned, at least he wouldn't be giving Remus Lupin, Professor, werewolf and consummate liar, any chance to read his thoughts.
As he'd finished playing, Sirius hadn't looked once in the direction of the teacher's table. But as he nodded to the judges, he couldn't help but steal a glance to the side.
Remus was still watching him, an inscrutable expression on his face. His gaze burnt Sirius like a brand, and he shivered, torn between terror and something that he vaguely identified as some kind of curiosity. He scowled and turned away, unwilling to admit that he'd looked and shoved attempted to shove his way back to his seat next to James, nearly running down a small gaggle of Hufflepuffs in the process.
"Not good," were the first two words out of James's mouth, followed swiftly by: "I've seen you play a hundred times better than that. What were you thinking?"
Sirius shrugged, hauling his violin case onto his chair. "I wasn't thinking. I just…didn't feel up to my usual standard today." He laughed weakly, attempting to brush his failure off. "We all have the odd bad day. Even me."
"But did it have to be today?" James's voice was a mixture of exasperation and disbelief.
"You don't get to pick the day!" Sirius snapped, almost roughly pushing his violin into its case and strapping the lid closed. "Besides, Lupin put me off." It was a half truth.
"Eh, I can understand why," James admitted grudgingly. "I mean Peter and I were pretty freaked out about…you know…the whole thing. But you've had it worse. What with being closer to him and all…" He frowned, realising what he'd accidentally said, and immediately shot Sirius a contrite look. "Sorry. Didn't mean to point that out. I mean, I know it's obvious – it was obvious to anyone really – and….oh, hell. I'm just going to shut up." Looking thoroughly irritated with himself, he clamped his mouth shut.
"James," Sirius said wearily, finally sitting down. "We've been through this. We had a Deep And Meaningful Conversation in the common room not a week and a half ago that resulted in me biting your ear. We are not going to speak of my spending time with Lupin again, alright? It's something I just want to forget." He shuddered theatrically. "Now, can we speak of something else, or do I have to gag you?"
"Speaking of something else is acceptable," James said hastily, fully aware that Sirius would gag him if he had to. He paused, frantically searching for a topic. "So," he said eventually, his expression brightening, "how's Snape been recently?"
Sirius mock-growled.
"Right, right, another sore topic." James rolled his eyes and gave up. "Sorry. Shall I just talk about Lily for a while? I mean, you never pay attention when I do, so there's no chance of me upsetting you again. After all, I don't particularly want to have to explain another bite mark to Madame Pomphrey." He grinned and Sirius rolled his eyes, well aware of the ridiculous excuses James had come up with when his ear had been bitten in the brawl that had followed their discussion.
"Just talk about…clouds, or something," he said, exasperated.
"Clouds? Isn't that rather a poncy subject?" James saw the expression on Sirius face and groaned. "Right, right, not saying another word. Open mouth, insert foot. Shut up James Potter; I understand."
"Good." Sirius settled back in his chair to watch the remaining students. As he relaxed, his gaze almost accidentally wandered back towards the teachers, and he realised with a strange jolt that Remus was still watching him.
'I don't like you,' he thought grimly, pursing his lips and deliberately looking away. 'Dark creature. I don't like you. At all. I hate you; I hate everything you stand for; I hate the fact you lied to me…' He frowned, one hand straying to his forehead, rubbing absently, as though to rid himself of a stray, unwelcome thought.
'I hate the way I miss you.'
AaAaAaAa
"We lost," James said weakly, staring up at the ceiling of the Gryffindor common room, his expression one of almost grim denial as he lay flat on his back. "We lost. We can't have lost. It's not possible. We lost," he repeated again.
"To Hufflepuff, no less," Peter commented cheerfully, well out of range of books, bags and other assorted objects that might have been hurled at him. Sirius – who was perched on the end of one of the sofas – rolled his eyes and poked James's leg sharply, but not unkindly.
"It's not the end of the world," he said, although the slight note of disappointment in his voice betrayed his own optimism.
"Not the end of the world?" James couldn't even be bothered to raise his head. "It bloody is! We shall never hear the end of this! The Gryffindor name has, as a whole, been sullied! The Slytherins will be mocking us for centuries to come! 'Here,' they'll say, 'do you remember when those pathetic Gryffindors lost to the weediest House around?' And we'll all have to hang our heads in shame. Shame." The last statement was accentuated by the sharp thump of his fist against the back of the sofa.
"The Slytherins lost as well," Sirius reminded him.
"Yes, but it doesn't matter to them!"
"I'm not sure about his logic," Peter murmured to Sirius, who rolled his eyes in agreement.
"Losers…" James moaned not heeding the conversation being carried on around him. He clamped his hands over his eyes. "We're losers. I knew I should have sung 'A Wizard and His Staff'! The judges would have loved it."
"James, if you had done that, the rest of the contest would have been cancelled, or Gryffindor disqualified," Peter pointed out patiently. "And Professor McGonagall would have turned you into a stuffed mouse and chewed you when she was feeling angry."
"He has a point." Sirius slid off the end of the sofa and settled into a nearby armchair. Digging through his school bag, he pulled out several textbooks, and a letter he'd received that morning from his brother Regulus, who was studying at Durmstrang. "Now shush for a while, will you? Or if you must cry like a girl, at least do it in a quiet corner somewhere so that your manly reputation won't be completely destroyed. Not that you had much of one to begin with."
Grinning, he ignored James's rude retort – a few choice words and a vulgar hand gesture – and turned his attention to his letter.
'Sirius,
Since Christmas is nearly here and you're (once again!) not coming home for the holidays, I've taken the liberty of ensuring your present will reach you on time. The only problem is that it's a little, well, big this year, so I've had to take some rather drastic measures.
Christmas Eve, I suggest you go to the cave we found a couple of years ago just outside Hogsmeade. You do remember it, don't you? The one you and I discovered when Mother made us visit The Dragon. (You know which Aunt I'm referring to – don't play dumb with me, Sirius!) Anyway, I'm using a variation of the port key spell to send you your gift so I'm sure you can slip out of school for a couple of hours and oblige me! Besides, escaping Hogwarts shouldn't be a problem for you – it would be one of the least of your achievements, or so I've heard.
Speaking of 'achievements'(and following that to its logical conclusion – getting into trouble), Mother mentioned something interesting in her last letter. She seemed even more hell bent than usual about you consorting with half bloods. (Really, Sirius, why do you?) Something she said made me pause – a mention of 'unnatural relationships'? I'm not certain what she means, but I'd watch out if I were you, she knows something. Maybe someone's reporting on your behaviour at school? Just a thought.
Tread lightly.
Your brother,
Regulus'
Shuddering, Sirius crumpled the letter in his hands and stared sightlessly at the floor. As though from a great distance he could hear James expounding at length to Peter about how, if Anne Holmestock had just pulled her weight a little more on that flute, Gryffindor would surely have won. Tuning his friends out, Sirius stuffed the letter in his pocket and cupped his chin in his hands.
Someone was watching him. Someone was telling his parents everything about him. Hogwarts had always been his retreat from his family and suddenly now, even here, he didn't feel safe. He felt dirty, and watched, and more than a little paranoid.
Unbidden, the memory of Snape entered his mind. He was always watching – waiting to catch Sirius out at something. Could it be him?
'He knows,' Sirius thought grimly. 'He's the only one who knows…knew…about Lupin and I. Perhaps that's what mother meant when she talked of 'unnatural relationships'.' He frowned and bit his lip, deep in thought. 'But how would he tell her? He barely knows her, or my family. No. It must be him. There's no one else.' He hissed quietly, earning a couple of startled looks from some First Years. 'The dirty little snake. I'll catch him at his own game. He won't ruin me.'
Sirius lifted his head as James – who had been trying to get his attention for some time – yelled at him. Plastering a grin over his furious expression, he stood, smoothing down his robes. Had he seen himself in a mirror, he would barely have recognised his own reflection. Pale, mouth tight and eyes blazing, his grin concealed nothing, and James shot him a curious, wary look as he sauntered over.
"Problem?"
"No." Sirius waved a hand. "It's nothing." He raised an eyebrow. "Finished complaining? Want a game of chess?"
As they set up the pieces, Sirius absently turned a pawn over in his hand for a moment, looking at it, his expression cold.
Something, he was beginning to realise, must be done about Snape. If not for his own sake, a small, unheeded voice muttered at the back of his mind, then at least for Lupin's. Refusing to even acknowledge the possibility he might actually be concerned for Remus's well-being, Sirius placed the pawn on the board.
Yes, something must be done.
To Be Continued…
