Sunday, April 16, 1978

"Oh, I've been meaning to do this," James said, giving Sirius's shoulder a shove.

"What was that for?" Sirius stumbled and grabbed the railing before he toppled down the stairs. They were heading back inside after spending several hours on the Quidditch pitch, racing each other and practicing various wild, difficult shots. Sirius had enjoyed himself, but it had been just a bit more exertion than he preferred on a Sunday, and he was looking forward to collapsing onto his bed and smoking a cigarette while Mary ran her hands through his hair.

"That's for telling Evans I was crying yesterday, you arsehole," James said, scowling at him. "I wasn't actually crying."

"I did you a favor, idiot. Girls love that sort of thing."

James frowned. "They do?"

"Yeah," Sirius said, nodding. "Not that I know from experience, since I'm not prone to sentimental sod behavior, but yes, typically girls lose their heads if they find out you've been crying over them." He leaned closer and smirked. "She shagged you silly, didn't she?"

James grinned. "Well, yeah, she did."

"I knew she would."

James hesitated, then added, "She, er, took your advice." When his statement was met with a blank look, he added, "When in doubt…"

Sirius laughed and clapped him on the back. "You're welcome." He frowned and glanced sideways at James when they reached the top of the staircase. "She didn't say if she was going to stay friends with the greasy one?"

James shook his head. "I left it up to her."

Sirius wrinkled his nose. "I dunno how you can stand that."

"Well, telling her what to do didn't exactly work out in my favor," James said, grimacing. "I reckon it's best to just let her decide. I don't like the idea of her being friends with him one bit, but if I trust her it shouldn't matter…" He sighed and shook his head. "I dunno, you trust Macdonald, don't you? She stayed at Pete's house on New Year's Eve, and didn't they sleep in the same bed when he stayed at hers after they went out for his birthday?"

Sirius stared at him before bursting into laughter. "Did you just compare Pete to Snivellus? Because even I think that's mean, and I make a mean comment about Pete nearly every day."

"I didn't mean it like that," James said with a sheepish grin. "I just meant, you know, they're friends, and you trust that they're nothing more than friends."

Sirius rolled his eyes as they strolled along the corridor. "The difference is, I don't think Pete would jump at the first opportunity to get his hands on Macdonald. He wouldn't do that to me – he's too good of a friend, and besides, he doesn't have the bollocks. And honestly, if Macdonald wanted to shag Pete, she's welcome to it. I imagine it would be the most disappointing two minutes of her life."

James raised his eyebrows. "Now who's being mean?"

"Okay, yeah, a bit," Sirius said, grinning. "I'm just saying, be careful."

They walked in silence for a minute, their footsteps echoing in the stone corridor.

"I'm glad Evans is going to live with us, and not just because I'm counting on her to do the cooking and cleaning," Sirius said once they reached Gryffindor Tower.

"That doesn't hurt, though."

Sirius shook his head and laughed. "No, it doesn't. You know, last summer Macdonald was the only one who ever really cleaned or cooked anything, and she was only there every couple of days."

James drew to a stop in front of the Fat Lady and glanced sideways at him. "Are you going to ask Mary to move in, then?"

"Sod off," Sirius said, scowling down at the floor.

"You might as well," James persisted. "I'm sure she'd rather live with you us than stay with her mum, and I doubt she'd be able to afford anything decent on her own, especially if, you know, we're all too busy to work…" He widened his eyes and cleared his throat. "And the two of you are basically inseparable, so what's the point of putting it off?"

"We're not inseparable," Sirius grumbled. He stood there, his hands shoved into his pockets while both James and the Fat Lady fixed him with an expectant look. "What are you looking at?" he burst out after a moment, pointing an accusatory finger at the painting.

"No need to shout at me," she snapped, pursing her lips. "Are you going to give the password, or are you going to stand there dithering about your life decisions?"

Sirius's eyes narrowed and he heaved an irritated sigh. "Fine. Frog spawn." He stopped just inside the portrait hole and turned to James, a warning in his eye. "Don't say anything to Macdonald, alright? I might ask her, I might not. But if you mention it to her, I'll tell Pete you basically said he's the same as Snivelly, and that might actually make him cry."

Later that afternoon Sirius lay stretched out on his bed with Mary, the smoke from their cigarettes curling toward the ceiling. As usual, Mary's hair tumbled everywhere, tickling Sirius's neck, but he was too lazy to bother brushing it aside. Mary had opened the window a crack to appease Remus, and the cool breeze lifted the ends of Sirius's hair and raised goosebumps on his skin.

"Lily's really excited to live with you two," Mary remarked, turning her head to exhale her smoke away from Sirius's face. "She's already talking about doing some redecorating."
Sirius laughed, his breath stirring Mary's curls. "Of course she is. Well, she can take down the stupid Ballycastle Bats posters Prongs insisted on putting up in his room, but she'd better leave everything else the way it is. If you didn't see the need to redecorate anything, I don't see why she would."

Mary reached across Sirius to drop her cigarette butt into the empty Butterbeer bottle. "I'm surprised she hasn't tried to redecorate up here, to be honest."

"She has," Sirius said, a note of indignation in his tone. "She took down my poster of Miss December three bloody times. You didn't notice?"

Mary giggled. "Is that the blonde one?"

"No, Macdonald, the blonde one is Miss July, and she's hanging up in my flat. That's Miss December." He pointed to a poster of a scantily-clad brunette that hung on the wall beside his bed. "I did a Permanent Sticking Charm," he said, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "I hope the little first years who get this room next year like brunettes."

"I mean, who doesn't?" Mary said, flicking a bit of hair into Sirius's face.

"Very true." He dropped the rest of his cigarette into the Butterbeer bottle and reached up to swat away Mary's hand. "Well, some people prefer redheads, but they just have poor taste."

"It's not poor taste, exactly," Mary said, draping her leg over Sirius's. "It's just different from what you prefer."
"Oh, sorry, I forgot you used to date a redhead." He poked her side until she rolled away from him in protest.

"Sometimes I forget I dated Bobby. That feels like a lifetime ago." She rolled back over to face him and rested her hand on his chest. "You know, you've been a pain in my arse for about a year and a half now."

"Macdonald, how many times do I have to tell you? I'm a damn blessing and you're lucky to have me in your life."

She laughed. "Keep telling me all you want. It doesn't change the fact that you're a bloody pain in the arse." Her hand drifted to his arm, trailing up and down the jagged scar that had taught him why getting drunk before the full moon was a bad idea. "You know, it'll be weird not sharing a room with you when we leave here. I've gotten so used to tripping over your boots and Vanishing cigarette butts you've left on the floor. Although, I suppose I'll be doing the same thing living with Melanie."

Sirius hesitated, his heart pounding as he considered her words. It was a clear invitation to ask her to move in; a hint, even, that she wanted him to. Yet the idea terrified him, even though they lived together now, even though she had spent almost every day off at his flat the previous summer. Living together as a proper couple felt so huge, so official, so representative of everything they had always dismissed and made fun of. But despite all of his doubts, the comforting warmth of her fingers on his arm and her leg draped over his wore him down. They had spent so many nights this way that he wasn't sure he wanted to spend another night without her. Why should they deprive themselves of this simple pleasure when the rest of the world was turning to shit more and more each day?

"Macdonald," he began, staring up at the canopy above the bed and refusing to glance at her. "It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if you wanted to stay at my flat and, you know, leave your things there. So you could help out Evans with the cooking and cleaning and everything."

She was silent for a moment. He sneaked a glance at her and saw a brilliant smile lighting up her face. "Black, are you asking me to move in with you?"

He jerked his gaze back up to the ceiling. "I didn't say that. It doesn't have to be any big thing. You could just stay at my flat and leave your things there, and you could hang up a David Bowie poster if you like, as long as you leave Miss July alone."

"Okay, you stubborn prat. I'll stay at your flat and leave my things there and hang up a David Bowie poster, but I won't say I'm moving in, if it makes you feel better." She pushed herself up on an elbow and peered at him, a slight frown on her face. "I'll have to go check on Melanie every so often. Would you maybe come with me sometimes, if you're not too busy ridding the world of Dark wizards?"

"Course I will. But you'll be busy ridding the world of Dark wizards too, you know." He reached up and gave her curls a gentle tug.

"Yeah, but Dumbledore's too smart to send us out on the same mission," she said, catching his wrist and guiding his hand down onto her waist. "He knows we'd get caught up snogging and end up missing an ambush or something."

Sirius grinned as he imagined some faceless Death Eater catching them with their trousers down. It really wasn't funny, except it sort of was.

"That's a shame, because I was looking forward to being holed up in some empty house or a forest in the middle of nowhere with you," he said, pulling her closer. "But it's probably in everyone's best interest if we stick to separate missions."

He pressed his lips against hers, savoring the familiar scent of cigarettes and Sleekeazy's and looking forward to a future together without the unnecessary pressure of a label.

Wednesday, April 19, 1978

Lily's stomach clenched as she stepped into the workroom and saw Severus hunched over the table chopping ingredients, a resigned scowl on his face.

"Finally bothered to show up?" he asked when she sat down beside him in that stupid spindly chair he'd conjured for her. "I assumed you had better things to do."

"Oh, shut up," she muttered. "I told Slughorn I wasn't able to make it on Monday, and you heard me apologizing about it in class yesterday, so you can save your snarky little comments."

His lip curled into a sneer, but he didn't reply, only inclined his head. Guilt crept into her stomach as she thought of Potions class – Severus had tried to catch her eye while they both gathered ingredients from the supply cupboard, but she had snatched up her handful of beetle eyes and marched back to her seat with her eyes fixed on the floor. Later he had lagged behind at the basin, rinsing his mortar until the water ran clear, but she had refused to even look at him. He wouldn't mention it – of course he wouldn't – yet she could see the slight cloud of hurt hidden behind his ever-present sneer.

"I don't think we can brew together anymore," she said a few minutes later, her voice just audible over the potion simmering in the cauldron. "Could you go back to just Tuesdays and Thursdays? Or you can have my Mondays, if you like."

His head snapped around to look at her, and his dark eyes jerked upward in the most understated yet obvious gesture of disdain she had ever seen.

"He's finally figured it out, has he?" A current of anger bubbled under the placid surface of his words, like the tiny bubbles in the potion before they rose to burst into the air. "Doesn't like the idea of you having friends besides his merry band of Gryffindor idiots?"

She sighed. "It's not like that, Sev."
He narrowed his eyes, looking right through her flimsy excuses before they emerged from her lips. "He's jealous."

He turned his attention to the pile of shrivelfig skin in front of him, but Lily saw the triumph flashing in his eyes. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen him look so pleased.

"He's not jealous," she lied. "He just… doesn't trust you."

"Because he's jealous," Severus insisted, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. "I bet he accused me of all sorts of fucking rubbish, love potions or Dark Magic or I don't know what else. Not that it matters, but I wouldn't do that, by the way. Not to you."

His expression softened, and for a moment Lily's determined resolve faltered. Then James's huge grin floated into her mind, and she thought about the room in Sirius's flat that she would share with James in just two months. Sighing, she gritted her teeth and looked away from Severus.

"I know you wouldn't, but that's not the point. The point is, we're on two different sides of a war, and we can't just move past that by brewing a few potions together and exchanging cheeky comments."

"I never expected you to move past it," Severus retorted, a sullen note creeping into his voice. "But you could just, I dunno, temporarily ignore it, for the sake of the potions and your stupid bloody research project."

She shook her head and fiddled with a stray bit of shrivelfig. "I can't just ignore what your friends are already out there doing, because you're going to be doing the same horrible things once we leave Hogwarts."

"But I'd never…" His hands twisted in his lap, clutching his fingers until the tips turned white. "I'd never do anything like that to you. You're…"

"I'm what, Severus? Your friend?" She tossed the shrivelfig skin onto the floor and heaved a bitter sigh. "I don't think your fearless leader would be too pleased to find out you're friends with a Mudblood."

He winced. "Don't–"

"Don't what? Don't call myself that? But you did, Sev, or have you forgotten?" She stood up and crossed her arms over her chest. "I certainly haven't."

"That was a mistake," Severus muttered, his face awash in misery.

For a moment, Lily felt sorry for him, but then she thought about the Squib man and his wife whose house had been set on fire yesterday, or the Muggle girl attacked by Fenrir Greyback who had just died after clinging to life in hospital for weeks. How long would it be before Severus was taking part in those sorts of mistakes, too? She shook her head, a wave of nausea settling in her stomach.

"It was a mistake thinking the two of us could ever go back to the way things were," she said, turning to leave. "Thanks for the suggestions about the aconite. If I come up with a cure, I'll credit you when I publish the research paper."

"Wait." He rose, knocking into the table and sending the rest of the shrivelfig skin skittering to the floor. "Don't go." His hand snaked out to grab her wrist, his eyes pleading as they locked onto hers.

"Let go of me, Sev." She jerked out of his grasp, then nodded at the thick steam issuing from the cauldron. "You might want to lower the heat – that's about to boil over."

She fled before she could change her mind, before Severus could see the tears gathering in her eyes. As she bolted across the classroom and out into the corridor, tears clouding her vision, she couldn't help wondering whether she was the one making a mistake.

Friday, April 21, 1978

"Potter, where's Mr. Black?"

Flitwick stood in front of James's desk, frowning at the empty seat beside him. James turned to look at the empty chair and widened his eyes in surprise, as though he had only just noticed Sirius's absence.

"Oh, I'm not sure, Professor! That's unlike him. Usually he's so punctual and eager to come to class."

Remus stifled a laugh. "You're overdoing it," he muttered.

James ran a hand through his hair. "No such thing."

"I wonder if he's going to do 'Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard' or 'Jingle Bells,'" Mary mused, wrapping a curl around her finger.

"Or that new one he was working on," Peter said. "Was it 'Starman?'"

Lily burst into laughter, then broke off when Flitwick shot her a surprised look. "Was that meant to be 'Starman,' then? I thought it was that Celestina Warbeck song. Do you know the one I mean?" She hummed a bit of it, but the others only watched her with bemused expressions.

"He would never learn Celestina Warbeck," Mary said as she spread out her parchment beside her ink pot. "He says her music makes him want to die." Dramatic prat, she thought, an affectionate smile tugging at her lips.

"Padfoot's ukulele playing makes me want to die," Remus retorted, smirking.

"I'm telling him you said that." James leaned forward in his chair to tickle the back of Lily's neck with his quill until she giggled and swatted his hand away.

Remus took his own quill out of his bag and set it down on his desk. "Please do. Maybe it'll make him stop."

Peter laughed. "Doubt it. It's Padfoot – that's just going to encourage him."

At the front of the class, Flitwick cleared his throat and climbed onto the pile of books he stood on for a boost during lectures. "I'm going to get started, and hopefully Mr. Black will decide to grace us with his presence."

He pointed his wand at the blackboard and began to discuss the homework as curling letters appeared, spelling out the day's notes. Mary bent over her parchment and wrote a heading, unable to repress her smile of anticipation.

"I think that's Padfoot," James whispered, inclining his head toward the door.

Mary lifted her hair aside and tilted her head, grinning as she heard faint snatches of music growing louder. A few other students looked up from their notes and frowned, but Flitwick continued on with the lesson, unaware that anything out of the ordinary was happening. As the strumming drew closer, Mary could pick out bits of lyrics. I think he did go with "Starman."

"Professor?" At the front of the class, Bertram Aubrey had his hand raised. "I think someone's playing music out in the corridor."

Flitwick turned away from the blackboard and hopped off his pile of books to take a few steps toward the door, his hand cupped around his ear.

"Sounds like Celestina Warbeck," Stacy Tremblay said.

"No, that's not it," Olivia Abbot said, frowning and turning around to face Mary. "Mary, what's that stupid record you never stop playing?"

"There's a staaaaaarman waiting in the sky…" The music was right outside the door, and Mary suspected he had used Sonorous to magnify the volume. That's bloody obnoxious, Black, she thought. You're loud enough on your own.
"It's David Bowie," Flitwick said, smiling in spite of the interruption.

He took another few steps toward the door, but before he could reach it to peer outside, the door burst open to reveal Sirius. He wore his red cowboy hat and a pair of pants patterned with Snitches that Mary knew belonged to James. His leather jacket completed the ensemble, although Mary noted with amusement that he wore no shirt underneath. A wide grin spread across her face, and she covered her mouth to keep from laughing. Bloody idiot.

"Mr. Black, what–" Flitwick began, but Sirius began singing even louder, drowning out his question. Flitwick seemed to give up, and leaned against an empty table to watch the performance. The rest of the class watched as Sirius strummed the final notes of the song, then took off his cowboy hat and gave a dramatic bow.

"Thank you, thank you," he said as several of his classmates applauded. James whistled, and Peter was clapping so hard that he knocked his quill to the floor. Sirius winked at Mary, then tossed her his cowboy hat.

"I'm not sure your skill is at the level where you should be giving concerts, Black," Stacy Tremblay said, raising her eyebrows.

"I'm not taking critique at this time, Tremblay," he replied cheerfully. "Praise and adulation only, thanks."

"Nice pants," Donald Fawcett said, grinning.

"Those are mine, Padfoot," James hissed.

"Thank you for that, er, delightful treat, Mr. Black," Flitwick said, his lips twitching as he tried not to laugh. "If you'd be so kind as to take your seat."

"Certainly." Sirius strode to the back of the class and sat down beside James, setting his ukulele on the floor and taking parchment, quill, and ink from his bag that Mary had left by his seat for him.

"You may as well put this back on," Mary whispered, turning around to hand him the cowboy hat. "I think he's too surprised to tell you to go put on proper clothes."

"I am wearing proper clothes, Macdonald," Sirius said, rolling his eyes and settling the cowboy hat on his head. "This is my best outfit. Now quit interrupting. I'm trying to learn something."

"You're such a prat," she said, chuckling and turning to face front again. As Flitwick resumed his lecture, casting occasional glances at Sirius's cowboy hat, Mary couldn't keep the smile off her face. I love that obnoxious idiot, she thought, peeking at him over her shoulder and turning around again before he could catch her looking.

Monday, April 24, 1978

The sun was just peeking over the horizon when James stepped through the double doors and broke into a jog as he descended the stairs. A light breeze plucked at his hair and carried the scent of flowers, and he took a deep breath, savoring the first few invigorating minutes of the run. During the first mile, the motion of his legs and the steady in and out of his breathing silenced his thoughts, so it was only James and the chirping of birds and the soft thud of his feet against the ground. Unhampered by his thoughts and fears, he was weightless, as though a slight burst of speed and enough determination would allow him to take flight.

This state of quiet escape never lasted the entire time. Most days he entered a new phase of the run by mile two. His feet slipped into a familiar rhythm, and his mind filled with thoughts, tumbling around in time to the pounding of his feet. Whatever he needed to puzzle over or sort out in his head presented itself to him to be examined and put neatly back into place when he had come to a satisfactory conclusion. Today he alternated between thinking about the news — worrisome giant activity abroad and a collapsed bridge that was the result of a Death Eater attack rather than a lack of regular maintenance —and dwelling on Lily's friendship with Snape.

There wasn't much to be done about the news, save for focusing on everything they would be able to do once they officially joined the Order of the Phoenix. He was more concerned for his friends – they were looking more worried and worn out every day. This was something he had a bit more control over, so as he circled the lake he ran through their bucket list and formulated a plan to distract them from the dire circumstances outside of Hogwarts. Filch is going to bloody hate us, he mused, but he couldn't muster much sympathy for the man ever since he had confiscated the Marauder's Map.

The next problem was not so easily solved. Lily had spent no time alone with Snape since she had ended their friendship Wednesday evening. She claimed to feel good about her decision, yet James detected an undercurrent of doubt. There was a sheen of sadness in her eyes, a slight tightening of her lips when she thought James wasn't watching. It didn't bother him, exactly, because he was glad she was no longer friends with that tosser, but he hated seeing her sad, and he especially hated being the reason for her sadness. As he headed along the path to Hogsmeade, squinting as the sun rose higher in the sky, he wondered if he should broach the subject again. Maybe he should encourage her to rethink her decision, even encourage her to rekindle her friendship with Snape, if it would clear away the sadness from her face. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, would it?

Of course it bloody would, he thought, dodging a puddle left behind after last night's rain storm. It's Snape. If anything, he's just going to end up making her sadder, when he inevitably lets her down and calls her the M-word or we run into him while he's out wreaking havoc with his Death Eater friends. James's jaw clenched as he imagined Lily's face crumpling and her eyes filling with tears. No, his idea was no good. He would just have to dispel Lily's sadness himself.

When he made it all the way to Hogsmeade and back, a blur of yellow caught his eye and he drew to a stop. A cluster of daffodils had sprouted up, inclining their faces toward the sun. James studied them for a moment, a smile spreading across his face as he remembered Lily's tattoo. He bent to pick a few of the flowers, charming them to stay fresh until he could place them in water. It was a small gesture, but he knew it would at least make her smile. He walked the rest of the way back up to the castle, looking forward to seeing Lily's face when she opened her eyes and saw the bunch of daffodils sitting on the bedside table.