Monday, January 30, 1978
"You sure you don't want me to have the entire Great Hall sing 'Happy Birthday' again?" James asked, taking Lily's hand as they strolled along the corridor on their way to breakfast. "Just say the word and I'll make it happen."
"That's okay," Lily said with a wry smile. "Once was enough."
James shrugged. "Suit yourself."
"And you're not going to charm balloons to follow me around or make me wear a singing birthday hat or some other unnecessary, over-the-top Marauders birthday thing–?"
James held up a hand and frowned. "Sorry, I'm not sure what you mean by unnecessary, over-the-top Marauders birthday thing. Nothing we do is unnecessary."
Behind them, Remus let out a snort of laughter.
"Right, so charming balloons to follow Remus around and making them sing loudly if you pop them isn't unnecessary?" Lily asked.
"Seems necessary to me," Sirius said, glancing at James. "Prongs?"
"Oh, completely necessary," James agreed. "Otherwise nobody would know it was his birthday because he keeps quiet about it."
"What about when you stuck a sign on Padfoot's back that said, 'IT'S MY BIRTHDAY, TELL ME I'M PRETTY' and didn't tell him about it?" she insisted.
"He loved that," Peter said, grinning.
"Don't you have all of your birthdays marked on McGonagall's calendar?" Mary asked.
"It's so she can mentally prepare for whatever shenanigans we have planned," James said, as though this should have been obvious.
"It's one of our more thoughtful gestures, really," Sirius added. "An alarm goes off a week before any of our birthdays is coming up so she has enough time to prepare. We probably should have added your birthday, though, Evans. She'll be taken by surprise."
"What's going to take her by surprise?" Lily turned to James, looking apprehensive. "James, what're you planning?"
He gave her hand a squeeze, enjoying the mingled amusement and irritation on her face. "You'll see."
Lily scanned the Great Hall as they settled at the Gryffindor table, then turned back to James, suspicion knitting her brows together.
"Relax, Evans," James said, pouring her a mug of tea. "I'm not going to do anything embarrassing. Well, nothing that will embarrass you, anyway."
"What does that mean?"
James shrugged. "You'll see," he repeated, then checked his watch and grinned. "In about 30 seconds."
He watched Lily spread jam on her toast as she gave a little sigh of impatience. Then there was a soft pop from the Slytherin table, followed by several hundred more popping sounds, and Lily's eyes widened as she took in the unexpected sight. Except for Gryffindor, every house table was awash in the same horrible shades of brown, yellow, and orange. Students looked at each other in varying states of surprise, confusion, and amusement as they realized they all wore the same hideous jumper – the very same jumper Petunia had sent Lily for Christmas.
"How did you manage it?" Lily asked, bursting into laughter as she watched Jeffrey Broadmoor attempt to pull the jumper over his head. The harder he pulled, the more it seemed to stick to his body.
"It wasn't that hard," James said, running a hand through his hair. Truthfully it had taken hours of experimenting and careful planning, and an unfortunate mishap had forced Peter to wear the jumper for several hours before they had figured out how to reverse the spell. Nevertheless, it was all worth it to see Lily smile like that, her happiness radiating off of her in waves.
"McGonagall's looking our way," Peter said, nodding at the staff table where McGonagall sat peering at them with pursed lips. "I think she's noticed Gryffindor is the only unaffected table."
"She can't prove it was us," James said, unconcerned. "Could've been anyone."
"I told you we should've done the teachers, too," Sirius said, giving McGonagall a friendly wave.
"I bet she's just jealous she doesn't get to wear an ugly jumper."
"She is not," Remus said, chuckling. "That is a disgrace to jumpers everywhere."
Mary laughed as Stacy Tremblay stalked by, tugging at the jumper and glaring at Sirius. "I wish your sister could see the use her gift is being put to, Lil. I feel like this was not what she had in mind."
"Well, I'm certainly never going to wear it, so I'm glad it's getting some use," Lily said. She leaned over and kissed James's cheek. "It's perfect. I love it."
A warm burst of happiness washed over him as he took in the joy on her face. Last week had been endless and exhausting, and he knew they had more weeks like it in their future, but he didn't mind so much as long as he could keep putting that smile on Lily's face.
"Oh, look, the mail's here," James said, tearing his eyes away from Lily and pointing at the flock of owls above them. "I think my parents sent you a card— I may have let slip that your birthday was coming up…"
Lily grabbed James's hand to check his watch and frowned. "Aren't you going to head to practice from here? If you don't hurry you're going to be late."
"And by late she means not thirty minutes early," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "You're not going to have time to get into the Quidditch mindset or whatever you call it."
James grinned and began heading back toward Gryffindor Tower. "I'm not going to practice. I've given them the night off — it's been planned for weeks."
Lily stopped to look at him; Remus had to jump sideways to avoid running into her, but she didn't notice. "You canceled Quidditch practice for my birthday? But you never cancel Quidditch practice. Last week you had to be bullied into missing practice, and you only agreed because you probably would've fallen off your broom otherwise."
"Correction, I only cancel Quidditch for something really important." He gave her hand a gentle tug and set off again, smiling at the expression on Lily's face.
"So what are we doing that's so important you canceled Quidditch?"
"He can't say it out loud," Sirius said, nudging Lily and smirking. "It's too filthy. It would make Moony blush."
"Oh, shut up." James tried to give Sirius a shove, but he darted sideways and executed a graceful little leap that made Mary snort with laughter. "I'm leaving it up to you, Evans. We're going into Hogsmeade over the weekend, obviously, so I figured you'd want to relax a bit. We can sit around the common room and play Exploding Snap or do homework, or we can go to the library if you'd rather, or I can sit quietly and rub your shoulders while you read, or we can go up to the dormitory and take a nap, or…" He glanced sideways at her and grinned. "Or, if you want, we could do various filthy things that would make Moony blush."
By this point they had reached the common room. After they climbed through the portrait hole and everyone else settled around the fire, James turned to Lily and raised his eyebrows. "What'll it be, Evans? Shoulder massage while you read? I'm not as good at it as you are, but I'll give it my best effort."
She didn't answer, but flashed him a mischievous smile before leading him toward the staircase.
"Are you choosing a nap?" he asked.
"Nope," she murmured.
"I hope Padfoot didn't pressure you—" he began.
"He didn't." She opened the door and pulled him in behind her before kicking it shut. "Now don't talk about Padfoot anymore. I don't want to think about him right now."
He obliged, eager to respect her wishes, because it was her birthday, after all.
The blankets enveloped James as he lay gasping for breath with Lily's arms wrapped around him. She emitted a soft, satisfied sigh and burrowed closer against him, her skin damp against his. He tried to stay awake, not wanting to squander these moments with her that still struck him as so novel and new and remarkable, but drowsiness dragged at him, pulling him down into blissful oblivion. Lily's hair tickled his chin as her hand rested on his shoulder, and he almost drifted to sleep, yet something nagged at him. It was a scent, sharp and acrid, like burnt fabric…
His eyes snapped open and he squinted through air hazy with smoke to see hungry orange flames licking at the curtains that hung on either side of the window. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, but the flames remained, climbing higher and higher as more black smoke obscured the air.
"Evans?" He was still groggy, and his brain seemed to be taking longer than usual to comprehend the scene in front of him. "The curtains are on fire."
"What?" She jolted upright and reached for her wand, but it was halfway across the room in the pocket of her trousers, which lay in a tangled heap on the floor. "Well put them out, James, don't just sit there, for fuck's sake!"
The urgent snap in her voice cut through his stupor, and he stumbled out of bed to retrieve his wand, then shot a stream of water at the curtains. The flames disappeared with a hiss of steam, leaving the sopping, charred curtains hanging limply from the window and a burnt smell lingering in the air. James collapsed onto the bed, his mind reeling, and turned to Lily. He expected to see her brows knitted in confusion, or a puzzled, bemused smile, but instead her cheeks flamed as she studied a spot on the ceiling.
"Evans?" He trailed a finger along her jaw and tried to tilt her head to look at him, but she held herself rigid, refusing to meet his gaze. "Want to tell me why the curtains were on fire?"
"I dunno," she mumbled, now staring at the duvet.
He didn't press her, but kept his gaze fixed on her as she blushed and refused to look at him. Finally she sighed and rolled over, resting her face against his chest. Her flushed cheeks were hot against his bare skin, and he stroked her tousled hair, waiting for her to speak.
"Do you remember back before we were together, when I had that, er, dream about you?" Her breath tickled his skin, and her words were soft and muffled, yet her meaning was clear.
He grinned. "Of course I remember."
"So, you know how I said I did accidental magic in the dream when I, you know…"
He bent to kiss the top of her head. "Evans, if you think I'm going to forget something like that, you don't know me at all. I thought about that dream for weeks."
He had thought about that dream for weeks, turning over the details in his head as he fell asleep, wondering what Lily must have been thinking about that would lead to such a dream.
"Well, maybe a week after I had that dream, I really did do accidental magic."
A sudden swoop of jealousy made him clench his hand into a fist under the blanket. "With who?"
She lifted her face to look at him. "You know I've never been with anyone else. I was, er, by myself.."
His eyes widened. "Evans! I didn't know you, er, did that."
She returned to speaking into his chest. "I don't usually. But, I dunno, I was sort of in a state over the summer—"
James grinned "Because you wanted to shag me?"
She heaved an exasperated sigh. "I mean, that was the gist of it, yes, but you don't need to sound so arrogant about it. Anyway, one night I couldn't stop thinking about you, so I got a bit tipsy and, I, well, you know, and I ended up setting my duvet on fire."
His mind began presenting him with countless questions, demanding details, but he forced himself to slow down for Lily's sake.
"So the curtains today…?"
"Apparently."
He mulled this over. "But it's not every time, obviously." After a moment's hesitation he added, "Is it only when it's really, really good?"
She paused, then muttered, "I think so."
A grin spread across his face. "So today was really really good?"
Her eyes slid up to meet his, and a reluctant smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
"Yes."
He resisted the urge to punch the air in triumph, instead settling for a satisfied smirk.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said, slipping his hand under the blanket and trailing his fingers up and down her arm.
"You're going to tell Padfoot, aren't you?"
James allowed himself to imagine the impressed nod Sirius would give him after hearing this story, but then he shoved the thought aside.
"Of course not, if you don't want me to." His hand drifted and began to trace the curve of her waist. "You know, you look like you're about to die from embarrassment, but there's no need. That's the sexiest bloody thing I've ever heard in my entire life."
She looked up at him, eyes narrowed. "Which bit?"
"All of it. I keep imagining you in your bed, thinking about me…" His hand moved lower to trace her hip bone, making her shiver. "Fuck, Evans, that's not embarrassing. I could tell you actual embarrassing stories, if that would make you feel better."
She closed her eyes as his finger brushed along her abdomen, his touch light and slow.
"What sort of embarrassing stories?"
"Whatever sort you like. I've got one about masturbating, and one about setting stuff on fire, although I can't say I've ever combined the two."
He tilted her face up to his and kissed her. He could sense her responding to his touch as her lips moved against his and her fingers clutched at his chest.
"But I'll tell you those stories later," he murmured, dipping his hand even lower and enjoying Lily's little gasp of pleasure. "Because right now I'd really like to see if I can get you to set something else on fire."
"But they're waiting for us downstairs," she protested, her voice breathy and faint.
"They can wait a bit longer." He kissed her again and wound his other hand in her hair. When he pulled away, she was flushed and breathless. "It's your birthday, Evs. You can do whatever you want…"
She leaned in to kiss him again, and as James pulled her closer, he was glad this was how Lily had decided to spend her birthday.
Thursday, February 2, 1978
Remus sat with his back propped against the wall and a blanket spread over his legs. He held a novel in one hand, while his other hand stroked Seven's hair as she lay with her head in his lap. His eyes burned as he struggled to stay awake, but he couldn't bring himself to leave the cozy comfort of this hidden spot he shared with Seven. Stifling a yawn, he turned a page and bent to kiss Seven's head, resolving to stay for another chapter.
"Can I ask you something?"
Seven set down her book and peered up at him, toying with the end of her long braid. Remus yawned again and put down his own book, then took Seven's hand and gave it a squeeze.
"Of course. But if you want to know if I brought chocolate, do you even have to ask?" He patted the pocket of his cardigan where he had tucked half a Honeydukes bar, just in case.
She bit her lip and shook her head. "No. I want to know why you won't talk about your Patronus."
He froze, his long fingers resting on the loose strands of hair framing her face. His initial hot surge of rage had burnt out, leaving him with a sick sense of shame that surfaced every time the spell was mentioned. He refused to talk about it, not even to Sirius and James.
"I told you," he muttered without meeting her gaze. "I can't do it, not a proper one. It's not uncommon — lots of people can't do it."
"I know that's what you told me," she retorted, pressing cool fingers against his jaw until he looked at her. "But I also know it's rubbish. You're too good at Defense for me to believe you can't do it. Come on, what happened? You were so excited to learn, and now you won't even talk about it."
He released her hand and began to gnaw at a cuticle, but she reached up and dragged his hand back down onto the blanket.
"Remus." Her wide, brown eyes were fixed on his – calm, determined, pleading. "Talk to me."
He rubbed his eyes as a wave of exhaustion washed over him, and for a moment he wanted nothing more than to collapse into his bed and escape into the oblivion of sleep. But sleep wasn't an escape, not lately, and at the moment being with Seven was the only time he felt truly relaxed and safe. Heaving a sigh, he gently extricated her head from his lap and lay down beside her.
"I just don't want to talk about it, all right?" The words sounded sharper than he'd intended, and he felt an instant stab of guilt when he saw hurt flash across her face. It wasn't her fault – none of this was her fault – yet here he was, hurting her when she just wanted to help.
"I'm sorry," he said, rolling onto his side and pulling her close. "I just, I'd rather not talk about it, if that's all right."
Lying down made him remember how tired he was, and his eyelids began to droop against his will.
"That's all right," Seven said, her voice jarring him awake again. "Would you rather talk about why you're not sleeping again?"
"I'm sleeping fine," he said, the lie flowing out of his mouth before he had time to think about it. "It's just been a long day, that's all."
She reached out to trace the dark circles under his eyes. "You don't have to lie to me," she murmured, and the sadness in her eyes made Remus feel guilty all over again. "You told me you weren't having nightmares anymore and I'd sleep better in my own bed, which I thought was a polite way of saying you'd sleep better without me, or that you weren't ready to have me there all the time, which is fair, but now it's obvious that you're not sleeping well."
"I'm fine," Remus said, pasting a smile on his face, but Seven shook her head.
"No, you're not. You're exhausted, and you don't have to talk about why if you don't want to, but I'd like to politely request to be invited back to your dormitory to sleep."
"Seven…" He reached for her, but she crossed her arms and met his gaze, a stubborn glint in her eyes.
"I'll bring my own pillow, and I hardly take up any room." She scooted closer to demonstrate, sliding a hand under his jumper to trace the scars on his back. "Shagging is always welcome but not required."
Even the suggestion relaxed him, and he longed to climb under his duvet with Seven beside him, to wake up and reach for her in the dark when the terror threatened to drag him under. But he couldn't give in. He wouldn't give in. She deserved better than sweat-soaked sheets and broken sleep. She deserved better than him.
"You don't have to do that."
She gave an impatient sigh. "I know I don't. But I want to, because I care about you and want to help you get some decent rest." She pressed her lips to his forehead, and he closed his eyes, inclining toward her soothing touch. It would be so easy to give in, so bloody easy. He took several deep breaths, summoning what little resolve he had left.
"Why is it too hard for you to believe that people care about you and want to help you?" she asked, her voice just a notch above a whisper.
He wanted to deny it, but he didn't have the energy, and her eyes bore into him, stripping away his false smile to reveal the weary uncertainty underneath. He rolled onto his back and raked his hand through his hair.
"Because how the fuck can anyone really care about me when they know what I am?" Remus demanded, his voice soft and bitter. "When they know the sort of things I've done…"
His voice trailed off as he remembered the bright red soaking through James's clothes and the flash of panic on Sirius's face when Remus had asked about the blood splattered across his shoes. A faint current of fear ran through him. He hadn't discussed James's injury with Seven, and he couldn't risk her finding out. She was sweet and tolerant and kind enough not to ask many questions, but everyone had a limit, and he couldn't expect her to lie there and stroke his hair if she knew he was in the habit of mauling his friends.
For a moment she didn't speak. He sneaked a glance at her and saw anger flash in her eyes. She clenched her jaw as she toyed with the end of her braid, and Remus was sure she was going to tell him off. Instead she pressed her face against his shoulder and took his hand. Her fingers felt cool against his own.
"You deserve love as much as anyone else, and I'm not going to sit here and let you say otherwise."
He thought she was going to say more; the weight of something unsaid hung in the air, and he remained silent, waiting. But she only sighed and kissed his cheek, then draped her leg over his.
"I'm sleeping in your dormitory tonight, and I'm going to keep sleeping in your dormitory until you stop looking like you're dead on your feet. And if you try to argue, I'm going to Lily."
He glanced sideways at her, and she met his gaze with wide, stubborn eyes.
"Do you really want Lily Evans on your case? Because I guarantee she'll be more obnoxious about it than I am. So stop being a martyr and let me help you. You don't have to tell me everything, and I understand there are things you'd rather keep to yourself, but for fuck's sake, Remus, you don't have to deal with everything on your own."
There was a heavy silence in the wake of her words, and Remus lay there listening to the sound of his own breathing as he mulled over what she had said. He had always known there were things he would need to keep secret from her — it was unavoidable when he had bigger secrets than the average person. At the same time, he had not fooled himself into thinking this would never become a problem, because Seven was far too perceptive for her own good, and sooner or later she would notice she was being lied to. And there was something else, something vague lurking in her silence that scared him. He sensed the unspoken sentiment in the press of her hand and the heaviness of her sigh, and he had no idea how he would react if she decided to speak the words aloud.
It was all piling up, and Remus thought he might collapse under the weight of all the problems he didn't want to deal with. He knew he would have to face them soon, although the thought made him ache with sadness, because he knew what it would mean, but today wasn't the day to do it. The blankets were warm and cozy, and Seven was going to march him up to the dormitory for a proper sleep, and he was far too weary to pass that up.
"Okay," he said, rolling over and pulling her close. "You can come sleep in my bed, because you're right – I don't want to deal with Lily hounding me about how much sleep I'm getting."
He kissed her forehead, closing his eyes and savoring the simplicity of the moment as he wondered how many more moments like that they would have. But that was a problem for another day, when he had more brain power and Seven wasn't stretched out beside him with that adorable worried crease between her eyebrows.
"Come on, then," she said, getting to her feet. "Before you fall asleep down here and I have to levitate you to bed."
He followed her out into the corridor, putting everything out of his mind except the prospect of falling asleep with Seven tucked under the blankets beside him.