The Boy Who Killed God

by SeraMGrigori

Sirius Black has a secret. Well, no, that's not true. Sirius Black has many secrets. His wand is dying, his parents more or less want to kill him, and there's the small matter of the cursed TOUJOURS PUR tattoo right above his heart, that he's had since he turned eight years old. Sirius Black is no stranger to secrets. Then, Remus Lupin walks into his life.

6. The Marauders

CHAPTER SIX

The Marauders

OCTOBER 5, 1971

Sirius was exhausted by the time McGonagall dismissed him for the night, somewhere around eleven. More accurately, he felt like he'd gone about six rounds with an enraged hippogryph. His limbs felt like lead, his face was a mask of unshed tears and fury, and what was left of his sanity seeped out around round four. All he wanted to do was collapse face first in his bed, have a good cry, and never fucking wake up.

Unfortunately, Lily Evans seemed to have other plans. She was waiting for him, in the otherwise-empty common room, when he finally crawled through the portrait hole. Her face was diplomatically neutral as she stood and looked him up and down, but he saw it in her eyes all the same.

Merlin, he couldn't do this right now.

"Look, Evans, Snape started it. He's lucky he doesn't have a pretty little scar of his own, for saying that kind of shit to Remus. I'm not going to—"

She held up a hand and he stopped.

"This isn't about Snape." Lily drew her wand and muttered, "Muffliato."

They stared at each other for a long moment, neither of them really wanting to make the first move or give anything away. Eventually, Lily rolled her eyes and gestured to the couches. She sat down across from Sirius.

Merlin, whatever hope he'd had that she hadn't seen straight through his very soul evaporated on the spot. She knew.

"I've been researching—" She made a vague hand gesture at him "—this, you know."

"Oh?" His voice came out weak. Exhausted and noncommittal.

"After what you said when Malfoy cursed me, I had to."

Sirius scoffed. "Find anything interesting?"

Lily didn't bat an eye. "Show me your tattoo."

Fuck.

"Evans," he started, his voice cracking. "I don't—"

Her expression softened. "Sirius, I didn't mean to… But, Christ, I need to know. I think I can find a way to help both of us. Yes or no. Do you have a blood curse tattoo?"

"Yes." Sirius scrubbed his face, grateful for the small mercy that no tears had fallen.

"Where?"

"Above my heart," he whispered, absently rubbing the spot.

"And I'm assuming it's a family crest of some kind?"

"Something like that."

Lily nodded, thankfully not pressing more for specifics. "Does Narcissa have one too?"

Sirius grimaced. "Yes. As does every Black born in the past five generations. Even the Squibs. My great-uncle Marius went insane because of the blood curse. The magic was too strong and it was quite literally burning him alive. He had no magic of his own to counterbalance the force of the blood curse. He killed himself not long after he was disowned by his father."

"Jesus Christ," Lily muttered. "How old were you when they did this to you?"

"Eight."

"Shit. I'm sorry, Sirius."

"Why are you sorry?" he grumbled, indignant. "You didn't do anything, Evans."

Lily Evans gave him a withering glare. "No one should do that to a child. I don't care who you are or what kind of superiority complex you have. Putting a blood curse on a child is wrong, full stop."

He didn't disagree in the slightest, but what the hell was he supposed to say, when she was staring at him like that? There was a horrible look of vengeance in her green eyes, like she was about to hunt down every last branch of his family tree and force her wrath upon them for daring to put their brand on him.

Merlin, he didn't deserve that kind of devotion. Not from Lily Evans, of all people.

Thankfully, Lily seemed to sense the weight slowly settling on his shoulders. The fire faded from her eyes and she shot him a small, sad smile. "I want to talk to you about this, Sirius," she said. "But not tonight. It's been a long day."

He gave a noncommittal nod.

"There has to be a cure," Lily said, almost as if to convince herself. "Or a counter-curse or an antidote or something. I'm going to find it and—"

"There's no cure, Evans." His voice was hardly more than a whisper. "I've looked."

"Yes, there is. There has to be. You haven't looked in the Hogwarts library, or in the Restricted Section. We'll find something. We just need to learn more about your tattoo."

He didn't tell her that the Black family library was far more extensive than anything that could possibly be at Hogwarts, particularly when it came to Dark Magic and blood curses. If there was a way around the blood curse, then it wasn't in any book that he knew of. As far as Sirius was concerned, looking for a cure was a lost cause, but he wasn't about to tell Evans that. He couldn't. Not when she was still looking at him like he might be worth more than his name and the brand above his heart.

Instead, he gave a weak nod.

"I'd like to meet up with you to show you what I have and maybe work out a plan," she said.

He could have turned her down. In fact, what's left of the rational part of his brain screamed that he very well should turn her down, then get on with his life, pretending that Lily Evans doesn't know about the Black family brand. It'd only put her in the line of fire, messing with something like this, and, ultimately, it would amount to nothing because there's no magic antidote to the blood curse tattoo that wouldn't involve some seriously Dark Magic.

Andromeda found a way, that annoyingly hopeful voice in the back of his head whispered.

Merlin, he didn't have enough capacity for intelligent thought left to deal with all of this tonight, so he said, "Next week. After Defense. I'll meet you in the library."

Lily smiled at him, her green eyes twinkling with excitement. "I'll see you then." She stood to head up to her dorm. "Goodnight, Sirius. And… I'm sorry if I hurt you. You know, earlier."

"It's not your fault, Evans," he muttered, rising to his feet. "Goodnight."

Without looking back, he headed for the stairs. There was a moment, there, when Sirius thought he wouldn't be able to make it up the steps, that he'd just fold in on himself and disappear. The ramifications of attacking and permanently scarring Malfoy slowly began to dawn on him. For one thing, it meant that he'd inadvertently declared war on the Slytherins. James Potter, the reckless fuck, would be thrilled. As would Peter, by default. Sirius had no doubt that Remus would stand by his side no matter what, but it was dangerous to drag his friends into this fight. Slytherins, by nature, fought dirty, and this… This, whatever he'd started, had the distinct undertones of something dark, looming, and soul-shattering.

More pressing, of course, than the impending war, was his mother. At this point, Sirius was fairly certain that Walburga Black wouldn't even hesitate: the second Sirius stepped into Grimmauld Place, she'd use the Killing Curse on him and mount his head on the walls with the house elves.

Then again, his mother always did favor torture and such a quick end might rob her of the pleasure of listening to him scream.

His vision swirling, Sirius managed to push the door to the dormitory. He didn't know if he was crying or hyperventilating, or maybe a little of both, but he was having a hell of a hard time seeing straight as he closed the door behind him. Sirius slid down the wood paneled door, then sat with his knees pulled up to his chest, both hands in his hair, and he tried to remember how to breathe.

Vaguely, he was aware of his surroundings, but not enough to focus on any one thing. James's and Peter's hangings were closed. Peter snored loudly. The window to the roof was open and pale moonlight streamed in the room. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted.

Someone whispered his name, frantic and scared, but it hardly registered in the midst of the chaos in his own mind. Sirius drew in a shaky breath and forced himself to calm down. It was only then that he realized that Remus Lupin was crouching next to him, his amber eyes wide and concerned. Remus's hand hovered over him, not touching, but clearly trying to calm him down.

After a moment, Remus whispered, "Can you stand?" His voice sounded tired, but almost… relieved.

Sirius nodded and, using the door for support, managed to push himself to his feet. He stood there, awkwardly, the remnants of his panic attack not quite out of his system.

Remus watched him for a second, then went to his bed and yanked off the duvet. He turned back to Sirius, the blanket clutched in his hands. He raised an eyebrow at Sirius. "Trust me?"

Again, Sirius nodded.

It took him a second, to realize what Remus was trying to do, and once he did, Sirius didn't protest. As carefully as he could manage, Remus wrapped the duvet around Sirius, draping the middle over Sirius's head and letting the blanket fall across his shoulders.

Sirius caught the ends of the blanket and pulled it tight against his chest. "You're messing up my hair," he mumbled, pouting a little.

"You can steal James's hair potion in the morning. I know where he keeps it," Remus said, with a small laugh. "Now come here, you."

Remus all but pulled Sirius into an embrace and Sirius was helpless but to fall into it. The duvet largely impeded his movements, but it also shielded him from excruciating pain. The duvet served as a barrier between his face and Remus's shoulder, between his hands and Remus's chest, as Remus wrapped his arms tightly around Sirius and held him close. Unable to hug back because of the duvet clutched tightly in his hands, Sirius closed his eyes and pretended the entire world had been swallowed up by this blanket, by the strength of Remus Lupin's embrace.

It still hurt. Of course it did. That stupid fucking tattoo was relentless, but Sirius refused to allow it to rob him of this moment. He relished Remus's touch, almost, because this pain was his choice. It was a slow torture, sure: a small flame underneath the surface of his skin, building, quaking, ready to erupt at a moment's notice, at one wrong brush of skin against skin, but this…

This moment, wrapped in a duvet and Remus Lupin's arms, this was his. It was overwhelming and not enough all at the same time, because Sirius Black needed to be touched, even if it killed him. He needed to feel someone else against him, around him, consuming him. He'd needed it for so fucking long, and Merlin alive, here he was, wrapped up in Remus Lupin.

He'd give almost anything—fight any deity or being who held the power enough to change his fate, to erase his tattoo—just to stay in Remus's arms for just another minute. It was safe, here. He knew that with every fiber of his being. Remus would protect him, just as Sirius vowed to do the same for him. Remus wouldn't let the Slytherins win this war. Remus wouldn't let his mother mount his head in Grimmauld Place, next to the house elves. Likewise, Sirius would heal Remus's scars, and one day, Sirius would eviscerate the monster that dared sink its claws into Remus's skin.

That's what this was, really: an unspoken promise to stand with each other, come whatever, despite whatever pain or torture or monsters or secrets await them. It was perfect, in its blatant imperfection. It was safe.

Sirius Black hadn't felt safe in a very long time.

Remus held onto him until Sirius began to tense up, the pain finally reaching a threshold that could no longer be ignored. Remus pulled back. Sirius shuffled his feet and gave Remus a weak smile. He slid the duvet off of his head and held it out to Remus, this time careful not to touch. Remus tossed the blanket back on his bed, before turning back to Sirius.

"Roof or bed?" Remus asked, simply, and that was all he needed for Sirius to understand. Roof, and they'll have a talk about what happened with Malfoy, about McGonagall's punishment, about Sirius's virtual death sentence. Bed, and they'll sleep it off, then pretend to forget about it in the morning.

Merlin, Sirius was grateful for the choice.

"Roof," he answered, almost immediately.

A smarter man might have insisted on going to sleep and forgetting the whole ordeal as long as conceivably possible, but Sirius was so far beyond acting rationally tonight. He wanted to stay awake with Remus. He wanted to talk to him, have a little bit of a breakdown, maybe learn how to laugh again. He needed someone to criticize his attack on Malfoy, but acknowledge why he'd done it. That desperation—that fire and fury and horrifying terror that had nearly eaten him alive when he'd heard Malfoy punch Remus—well, he needed to make sure that Remus was alright, at the very least.

More importantly, Sirius wanted someone to acknowledge the fact that he was so royally fucked and Sirius didn't have a goddamned clue of what to do about it.

It was so much different than talking to Lily.

As much as he liked Lily Evans—and honestly, it surprised him how much, given how they'd started out—Sirius would wear himself thin ensuring that she never shared in the burden secret or a nightmare this terrifying. She'd never understand why he'd kept his tattoo a secret in the first place. Remus would; he might hate the secret—as Sirius hated all of Remus's—but he'd understand the overwhelming need to keep it quiet.

They were fundamentally the same, him and Remus. They both had nightmares and secrets and scars and horrible monsters ready and willing to tear them to shreds. These secrets were merely the truths of their existence, mutually acknowledged: an uncompromising burden that neither of them was strong enough to bear alone. The fact was, Remus Lupin understood him, down the very fibers of his being.

Who was he kidding? He wasn't going to get much sleep anyway.

Sirius followed Remus out the window and onto the roof. He sat down next to Remus, close but not touching, and waved his hand to cast a warming charm over them.

Remus gave him a small smile, then drew his legs up and draped his long arms over his knees, before turning his eyes to the sky. A dense fog hung over the castle, blurring the grounds, but the sky remained remarkably clear. The stars shone bright, a dazzling counterpoint to the waning moon.

Sitting in a comfortable silence, Sirius slowly turned his gaze from the night sky to Remus. The moon cast a silver glow over both of them, but it seemed to catch on Remus, illuminating him and immortalizing him in silver. His eyes, though… They were almost gold again. Almost, but not quite, but still as bright as the sun, even in the darkness.

Sirius never wanted to look away.

Remus shifted imperceptibly closer and finally tore his eyes away from the sky. "Siri?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I… ask you some questions?"

Sirius sighed. He'd known this was coming. "Yes."

Tentatively, Remus reached out a hand and let it hover, just over Sirius's own where it rested on the shingles.

"It hurts when I touch you." It wasn't so much a question as it was a statement of a mutually acknowledged fact.

"Yes," he whispered. "More than anything I've ever felt."

Remus immediately yanked his hand back. "It hurts when Evans touches you?"

"Yes."

"But not Malfoy?"

Sirius hung his head in defeat. "No. Not Malfoy."

"Because he's pure-blood," Remus said simply.

"I can't..." Sirius choked out. His eyes burned with shame and unshed tears and panic itched at the edges of his consciousness. "I can't, Remus. I swear to you, I'll explain, but not right now. I can't—"

It should be easy, to tell Remus this secret. Hell, Lily Evans had had him dead to rights down in the common room not ten minutes ago and he'd confirmed her every suspicion.

This was different.

This was a confession.

This was admitting that he'd been branded by his family, marked heir apparent and was therefore complicit in his parents' crusade against anyone of lesser blood. As much as he hated his mark now, Sirius knew his resolve would weaken. That was the purpose of the tattoo, wasn't it? To detach him from any affiliation with his inferiors. He'd shy away from touch and friendship, because who could honestly befriend something as cursed and broken as him? The pain and resentment from every attempt at friendship or love would chip away at any resolve for change he'd once had, until he withered away into the malicious heir his mother had longed for since before Sirius was conceived.

The tattoo on his chest was proof: Sirius Black, Gryffindor or not, was an inevitability, in every respect. He was not strong enough to fight his brand or his fate.

Sirius was not brave enough to tell Remus.

He felt raw and exposed and he wanted that goddamned blanket back just so he could hide underneath it. His skin itched and Merlin, every nerve felt like it was scrubbed bare. He folded his arms against his chest, desperately trying to make himself smaller. He was panicking, again, and he knew it, but he was absolutely fucking powerless to stop it.

"Hey!" Remus said, his voice forceful, but kind. "Hey, it's alright, Siri. Just breathe, okay? You don't have to talk, just breathe. Siri, please. Just breathe for me, yeah?"

His breaths came out raspy, but Sirius did his best. It was easier, he found, not to panic when he stared into Remus's eyes.

Bit by bit, he forced his breathing back to normal. When Remus saw he was no longer at risk of hyperventilating, he backed off and leaned back against the brick wall. Sirius watched him, because, honestly, how could he not?

"Did you learn that spell from your mother?" Remus's question was so quiet that Sirius almost missed it against the ambient noise of the castle and the surrounding moors from this far up.

Sirius expected his heart rate to pick up again, the panic to itch underneath his skin, but instead, he just felt… numb. "Yes."

Remus's expression didn't change. "Did she use it on you?"

Sirius let out a broken, self-depreciating laugh. "Walburga Black doesn't leave marks. Not on her heir, at least," he said bitterly. "She uses it on the house elf, mostly."

"The spell… worked, then? When you did it?"

Sirius's face scrunched up in confusion, because, of course, the spell worked. Malfoy was scarred and bleeding, wasn't he?

"Yes, the spell worked. Why the hell wouldn't—" The question was halfway out of Sirius's mouth when the answer smacked him in the face. "Oh."

Sirius reached in his pocket and pulled out his wand.

Remus grimaced a little and gestured at the wand. "You can't transfigure a thistle into a rose, without turning it to ash, but you can use a spell like that just fine?"

Remus didn't sneer or cast blame, or even emphasize the full extent of the horrifying fact he'd outlined with his question: that Sirius was darkness incarnate, that it lived and breathed within him, and devoured anything light that came within his grasp. Remus's voice was gentle, kind even. Far kinder than Sirius deserved, really.

Sirius swallowed, his throat impossibly tight. Tears welled in his eyes and he refused to look at Remus. "I'm a Black," he choked out. "Magic like that is as natural as breathing."

It was true, wasn't it? He hadn't thought twice about using the Sectumsempra, and it had done exactly what it was supposed to. He'd meant to maim, to hurt, to carve a mark into Malfoy's skin in retribution for what he'd done to Remus. Even now, he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Not really. He was terrified of the consequences—of McGonagall, his mother, and that horrible pit of darkness festering within his every nerve—but, Merlin alive, Malfoy had deserved it.

And Sirius's wand had obeyed him. It hadn't backfired or sputtered out or refused to cooperate.

Magic as natural as breathing.

He traced a finger up and down the length of his wand, as if saying a prayer over the runes etched into the enchanted willow wood could save the wand from its fate. His wand was still the same tangle of heavy coldness it had been since he'd cast the Cruciatus. No more, no less.

Ollivander had been right, of course, when he'd said the first spell cast with a wand determined the character of the wand itself and that of the wizard who wielded it.

There was a darkness, gnawing at his insides. Sirius felt it, late at night, when there was no one else to distract him from the voices in his head: this all-consuming parasite inside of him, burning away his sanity bit by bit. This… abyss threatened to erupt from him, every damn time he held his wand. It'd consume him, in the end. Of that, he was absolutely certain. He'd been weighed, measured, and condemned, ever since he'd muttered his first spell.

The thing was, he wasn't sorry he'd thrown the Cruciatus curse, for the same damn reason he'd never learn to regret hurting Malfoy. Regulus wouldn't be alive if he hadn't intervened. Sirius didn't regret the Unforgivable, and perhaps that was worse. The Cruciatus had killed his wand and damned his soul and he'd never be fucking forgiven for what he did, but Regulus was still alive, for Merlin's sake. In the end, no matter how much it fucked up his life, no matter the darkness swelling in the depths of his own soul, no matter how much it terrified him, Regulus was alive because Sirius damned himself.

Malfoy would be forced to leave Remus alone because Sirius had cursed him.

If that was the price, if that was what it cost to keep the people he loved breathing, then Sirius would hold his head high, march through the gates of hell, then snog the devil himself right on the mouth.

"Was it actually Dark Magic?" Remus asked, his voice far too casual for that sort of question. "That Septum— What was it again?"

"Sectumsempra. And no. It's not inherently Dark," he said, but Sirius wasn't as convinced of his answer as he had been with McGonagall.

Magic, by and large, had everything to do with the intention of the person who cast the spell. Sirius had meant to hurt Malfoy, had fully intended to make him bleed for what he'd done to Remus, and his dying wand had responded without a hitch. The spell itself might not be inherently Dark, but that meant nothing for the ravenous abyss clawing away at Sirius's soul.

Malfoy would bear the scar for the rest of his life. That, alone, was proof enough of Dark Magic.

Remus watched him closely. "Are you going to be alright, Sirius? Your mum…"

Remus trailed off, unable to make himself finish the thought, and Merlin, Sirius couldn't fault Remus for it. Sirius didn't have the words or the willpower to explain the horror he knew he'd have to face when he returned to Grimmauld Place.

"I have until Christmas," he said, and there it was: his fate sealed in four words.

Instead of replying, Remus gave him a small nod. He shifted a little bit and the moonlight caught on his new scars: two parallel gouges, etched into his lower jawbone and trailing down the side of his neck. They were still raw and bloody, the edges of the wounds puffy and jagged because of the freshly-torn flesh. They'd scabbed over, since this afternoon, and maybe looked a little better, but Sirius thought it could just be a trick of the light. They'd scar, too. Of that, Sirius was certain.

Mother of Merlin, who could have possibly done that to Remus?

He'd been so concerned with his own web of secrets and internalised panic that he'd forgotten about the whirlwind of an afternoon Remus had had. Remus had returned from whatever hell he'd been in, acquired two new, very visible scars, and then had been assaulted by Malfoy. Fuck, that'd been the whole reason Sirius had thrown himself head first into this whole mess in the first place: Remus was hurt and he'd almost forgotten about it.

Then, something occurred to him.

"McGonagall didn't say anything about those cuts on your face."

"Hmm?" Remus replied, still half-caught in the mesmerising aura of the night sky.

"She made such a big deal about Malfoy's brand new scar, but she didn't mention yours," Sirius said, and now Remus was paying attention to him. "Malfoy's Slytherin. You're Gryffindor. Even if she'd thought you were causing shit—which, she didn't. She thought it was all me, which it was, but that's not the point. If she thought you'd been hurt or scarred, she'd have had Malfoy's head on a plate, which means—"

"Sirius," Remus warned.

"McGonagall knew Malfoy didn't do that to you." Sirius gestured wildly at the gouge marks on Remus's face.

"Look, Sirius, I don't want to fight about this tonight—"

"Do you want me to heal them?"

Remus shut his mouth and stared unblinking at Sirius.

"I mean," Sirius continued, mistaking Remus's silence for something else. He tucked his wand back into the pocket of his robes. He reached out a hand, tracing the lines of the scars with his fingers a few inches above Remus's face. "I won't use my wand. I can do it wandlessly. You know I can. I swear it won't hurt."

Remus shook his head. "They won't heal, Sirius. And Madam Pomfrey already fixed the bruises."

"Oh." Sirius felt his soul shatter all over again. He couldn't heal Remus, like he had with Regulus. He couldn't make it better, or stop the horror from devouring the both of them. He was fucking powerless to stop it. All that remained was pain and scars and—

More Dark Magic.

They were surrounded by it on all sides, him and Remus. There was no escaping, no running away and forgetting, just darkness and pain and a never-ending saga of fate and inevitability.

"How'd you get the scars, Remus?" he choked out.

It wasn't fair for him to ask, not tonight, after everything he'd deliberately not told Remus, but Sirius couldn't help himself. He had to know. He had to stop it. He wasn't going to let that old, familiar darkness take Remus too.

Remus let out a self-depreciating laugh. "I tried to shave, but… missed a bit."

"Not good enough," Sirius growled.

"I ran with scissors."

"I'm not messing around here."

"My mother's cat has had it in for me ever since the frying pan incident."

"Remus!"

Remus shot him a wicked smirk, half desperate gallows humour, half heartbreak. "I've been brainstorming. Are any of these more convincing than I fell out of a tree? I could really use some feedback."

Sirius glared at him, willing himself to be angry, but to no avail. There was not enough left of the shattered pieces of himself to be angry with Remus for long, especially when they were both desperate and broken and in dire need to make light of something that is so unbelievably out of their control.

A second later, Sirius had to bow his head to hide his laughter. Remus laughed with him, wild and genuine, and just a little bit dangerous. Merlin, they were crazy, and Sirius thought they both knew it, but that laughter tasted a little bit like rebellion and it was enough to chase the darkness away, just for a few seconds.

"That last one's no good," Sirius said, keeping the laughter in his voice.

"They're all shit, Sirius," Remus said. He threw a bit of shingle at Sirius's head. Sirius stuck his tongue out. "That's why you're helping me brainstorm."

"If you say the cat's had it in for you since the frying pan incident, that implies you tried to kill the cat with a frying pan. Which, kudos to you if you did. Cats are vile creatures." He scrunched up his face a bit in disgust and it made Remus laugh more. "Anyway, killing a cat loses you major sympathy points, especially with girls. They tend to like cats. And, if you don't have their pity, then they tend to ask more questions."

"Is that why you never stop pestering me about my scars?"

Remus's smile did not leave his face, but it no longer reached his eyes. There was a sadness, there, buried behind a mask of scars and laughter. It was loneliness and pain and an insurmountable burden and Merlin, Sirius knew it well.

"Yep," Sirius said, and it was true. "I don't have time to pity you. I'm too busy planning out the many ways I will eviscerate the person who gave you those scars. And, if I am to eviscerate this person, I need to know who they are. Hence the pestering."

"So you've skipped over sympathy entirely and gone directly to homicidal rage?"

"Exactly."

Remus frowned. "You promised me you wouldn't go after him."

I lied, he wanted to say. I was under duress and I fucking lied, okay?

Remus seemed to take Sirius's silence for what it was: a confession and an oath of vengeance. Remus's expression softened into something dangerously close to compassion. "I don't need you to kill for me, Siri. Nor do I want you to. I'm not worth—"

"Yes, you are," Sirius snapped—or, Merlin, very nearly snarled.

"I'm not worth it, if you lose your soul over me."

Sirius bowed his head. His voice came out hoarse and broken. "Not sure there's much to lose, Re."

Remus leaned forward, as close to Sirius as he could get without actually touching. His eyes were wide and so unfairly kind that it took Sirius's breath away. "All the more reason to fight to keep it. I don't need an assassin or an avenger, Sirius, especially if this is what it costs. I kind of just need a friend."

Merlin, he couldn't fight back the tears, so he scrubbed them away as soon as they fell. No one had any right to care for Sirius the way Remus did. All this… it could only end in disaster.

That didn't stop Sirius from saying: "You have one."

Remus smiled.

Sirius sniffed and rubbed his nose. "You should tell them that you didn't do McGonagall's homework once, and she didn't take it well, so she turned into a cat and attacked. They'll know you're lying, but they'll get a laugh out of it. They'll understand that a story like that means you're not going to tell them what actually happened. Everybody wins."

Remus laughed. "That's genius."

"I have my moments."

From inside the dorm room, there was a thud and a quick patter of feet. Remus and Sirius both turned to see James standing in the open window in his pyjamas. His hair was a wild bird's nest and he wasn't wearing his glasses. He rubbed his eyes and squinted at them, his face all scrunched up and sleep-weary.

"Remus? Sirius? What the bloody fuck are you doing out there? It's freezing."

"Stargazing," Remus said.

"Scheming," Sirius said, at the same time.

Remus rolled his eyes. "We're solving all the world's problems, in one fell swoop."

James raised an eyebrow. It seemed to take a great deal of effort, given how his eyes were drooping. "That so?"

"Come join us, Jamie," Sirius said, leaning over Remus to catch James's eye. "And bring a blanket."

"Bring two!" Remus called after him, as James ducked back into the room. James yanked the duvets off of both his and Remus's bed and dragged them to the window, one in each hand.

James passed one blanket to Sirius as he climbed through the open window. Sirius wrapped the duvet around himself, much as he had earlier, just as James situated himself between Sirius and Remus. Sirius waved his hand once more, renewing and extending the warming charm to cover the three of them. James flung the second blanket across his and Remus's laps, before laying his head on Remus's shoulder.

Remus allowed it, shifting a little so he was more comfortable, before ducking his head away from James, away from the faint stream of light coming from the single candle by Remus's bed inside the dorm room. Sirius understood: Remus didn't want his scars to be seen, at least for tonight. Tonight, the pain and the secrets were poured into the fog around the castle, witnessed only by the waning moon, and would fade by morning. Come morning, there'd be a reckoning, but tonight they could pretend that the world made sense for just a little longer.

"Heard you got detention, Sirius," James said, conversationally.

"Yes, but Remus has convinced me to forget about my problems tonight, so instead, I've been trying to make the stars that share a namesake with my least favourite relatives fall out of the sky with just the power of my mind."

It was a blatant lie, of course, but Remus never even seemed to consider contradicting him.

James scoffed. "How's that working out, oh great and powerful wizard?"

"Not great. Bellatrix is particularly stubborn," Sirius said, with a smirk. He glared at the constellation, then raised his hands, wiggling his fingers, trying to pull the stars from the sky.

James laughed.

As the minutes ticked on in relative silence, the fog surrounding the castle began to lift. One by one, the towers and parapets, decorated with shadowy gargoyles and ancient shingles, emerged from the mist, until the entire castle was visible before them.

James sat up straight and leaned forward a bit. He squinted, then rubbed his eyes, clearly trying to make something out in the darkness. A moment later, he turned around and gazed up at the steep, slanting roof behind them. Then, he turned to Sirius, a wild grin plastered on his face.

"Ravenclaw tower is taller than ours," James said.

"What?"

It was Sirius's turn to squint. Then, like James, he turned to gaze up at the slanted Gryffindor roof behind them, trying to calculate and compare the height difference.

"It's definitely taller," Remus said, not bothering to compare the heights himself. "My dad told me. Historically, it's a bit of a sore spot between Ravenclaws and Gryffindors."

"As it should be!" James nearly shouted. "We're the bravest and the most daring. Why on earth did they get the highest tower?"

"Because bravery and daring should never be determined by a measuring contest," Remus deadpanned.

Sirius barked a laugh, but really, he had to side with James on this one. "It is a travesty," he said. He twisted a little to look behind him again. "What if we stuck a broom up there? Make up the height difference?"

Remus shook his head. "Even if you somehow managed to fuse a broom to the top of Gryffindor tower, it wouldn't technically change the height."

James scrunched his face up in confusion. "Why the hell not?"

Sirius sighed and reconsidered. "No, Remus is right. The castle's magic. More importantly, it's slightly alive. It wouldn't recognise a broom as part of itself."

"You'd have to fuse something to the intrinsic magic of the castle itself," Remus said.

"Well, what sort of thing would the castle allow as an addition?" James asked.

"A flag," Remus said, with a shrug. "With a bit of spellwork. And possibly a miracle."

"A giant flag," Sirius said, ignoring the rest.

"Oh, that's brilliant," James said, wiggling a little in excitement. "An enormous Gryffindor flag and we'll be the tallest tower in the castle!"

"Except for the Astronomy tower," Sirius muttered.

"We'll be taller than the Ravenclaw tower!" James amended, not missing a beat.

Remus, once again, shook his head. "No good. The castle won't favour one house over the other. If you use a Gryffindor flag, there's a chance it won't fuse with the castle's magic."

"Then we'll make a Hogwarts flag," Sirius said.

Remus shrugged. Sirius took it to mean, Genius plan. Brilliant detection of a loophole. Sirius preened, quite proud of himself.

Remus laughed at him, then asked, "How do we get a giant flag to the top of the tower?"

James didn't hesitate. "I'll nick a broom from Madam Hooch and fly it up."

"Okay," Remus said, drawing out the word. "Ignoring any potential flaws in that plan for the moment, how do you plan on balancing a flag that large while flying on a broom?"

James's look of triumph faltered a bit. "Why? How big does the flag have to be?"

"Big enough to make up the gap in height between the Ravenclaw tower and the Gryffindor tower, and then a bit more for bragging purposes," Sirius said.

"A couple of meters, at least," Remus said, squinting at the Ravenclaw tower, as if he'd be able to calculate the exact difference from their perch. "I'd have to research it."

"Okay, Sirius will fly with me and help me carry the flag," James said. "We'll use a Permanent Sticking Charm and ward the flag itself against weather—"

"That won't work," Remus said. "Well, not long-term, anyway. The flag can't just be stuck there, it has to fuse with the castle's magic. There's got to be a way to do that. This castle's over a thousand years old. There have definitely been renovations and additions. We've just got to figure out how, which means—"

"More research," Sirius finished, with a sigh. "And a miracle."

James groaned. "We need more man-power on this, lads."

James and Sirius exchanged a look. Then:

"PETER!" they yelled, together, at the top of their lungs. A second later, Remus joined in.

There was another crash from inside as Peter startled awake and tumbled to the window. His eyes were wild and unfocused, like he wasn't quite free from the realm of unconsciousness.

James and Sirius nearly collapsed in laughter.

"I'm awake—what?" Peter managed. He rubbed his eyes, then squinted at the three of them on the roof. Again, Remus ducked his head to avoid the light from the dormitory to fall on his new, open scars.

"Merlin, I thought someone had fallen off the roof," Peter gasped, clutching at his chest.

"Mmm, good plan, Pete," James said. "Do you think we could get Snivellus up here?"

Remus swatted him. James hardly noticed.

"We're planning on carving a place for ourselves in the newest edition of Hogwarts: A History, Pete. You want in?" Sirius asked

Peter's eyes lit up and he scrambled out the window. It took him a few tries, and, ultimately, Remus grabbed him by the collar of his pyjamas and hauled him out. Peter huffed and straightened himself out, then sat down on Remus's other side, pushing himself as far away from the edge of the roof as possible.

"Right," Peter said. "What do you want me to do?"

"You and me are on broom duty, Peter," James said, squishing a little too close to Sirius in order to make room for Peter. Sirius was immediately grateful for the duvet wrapped around his shoulders. He didn't think he could take any more pain tonight.

"Broom duty?" Peter asked, confused. "You want me to… sweep?"

Sirius barked a laugh. "No, you idiot."

"You and me are gonna steal a few Quidditch brooms from Madam Hooch," James explained, with a casual wave of his hand that was probably supposed to be some pantomime of flying on a broom.

"Oh," Peter said, still obviously no less confused by this explanation than he'd been a second ago. "Why?"

"Why, he asks," Sirius muttered, laughing to himself.

"Why?" James echoes, much louder. He nudges Sirius in the ribs and there's so much blanket between them that Sirius thankfully doesn't feel a thing. "Why, for honour and glory and a restoration of Gryffindor pride, of course!"

"And for victory in this ridiculous measuring contest," Remus said, pretending to raise a glass.

James and Sirius echoed his movement and raised their own imaginary glasses. "Hear, hear!"

Peter glanced between the three of them and frowned. "I still don't get it."

James waved him off. "I'll fill you in. But first, we need to work out how to break into the Quidditch supplies."

"Without getting caught," Remus added.

James pouted. "You're no fun, Lupin," he said, but his voice was light.

"We should plan on doing this before it gets too cold out and that won't happen if all of you lot have detentions for the rest of the month," Remus pointed out.

James reluctantly nodded his agreement.

"Good," Remus continued. "Sirius, that means you and I are on research."

Sirius beamed at him.

Merlin, he could see the plan unfolding in the near-golden gleam of Remus's eye: the taste of glory, adventure, and that half-hidden, all-knowing smirk that Remus got whenever he allowed himself to believe that he was the smartest one in the room. It was that same look, that small quirk of his lips, that Remus had given Sirius that very first night: the one that said, You're Gryffindor, and fuck anyone who says different. It was that wild triumph, that he'd seen lurking in the depths of Remus's heart, when he'd outsmarted Malfoy in the Great Hall. It was pure, unadulterated rebellion, that look in Remus's eye, and it left no doubt in Sirius's mind: Despite all the shit and the pain and monsters all around him, Remus Lupin would find a way to outmanoeuvre fate itself.

Sirius Black was in love.

Later, when the plan had been thoroughly explained to Peter a few times, the four boys climbed back through the window just as the waning moon dipped below the horizon. James and Peter immediately collapsed on their respective beds, neither of them bothering to pull the hangings. Remus took one look at Sirius and grabbed him by the blanket and hauled him towards his own bed. Sirius fell into a dreamless sleep, in the early hours of the morning, curled up in the safety of Remus Lupin's bed, a pillow situated between them.

Merlin's beard, Sirius,

Narcissa wrote me and told me what happened. (She's in a fit, by the way. Best stay away from her.) She said Malfoy's got one hell of a scar. She whinged about "Oh, poor Lucius" for about three pages. I stopped reading. Then, yesterday, I received a letter from my mother, stating that, "Given the precarious state of the marriage negations between the Lucius Malfoy and your sister, it is high time, Andromeda, for you to take a far more serious approach to your own future." Et cetera, et cetera. Enormously long letter short, my mother is in a right state and has set me up with Julius Fawley, and, apparently, has given him the impression that I'll be wooed and ready to marry by the summer. He's nearly twice my age! Feathers is not to happy about it, but there's not much either of us can do about it without risking Feathers's life and limb. So I guess I'm courting Fawley now.

(Any chance I can persuade you to maim him as well?)

(Sorry. That was a terrible joke.)

Merlin, this wasn't supposed to be about me.

How are you holding up, Sirius? These past few days can't have been easy. Whatever happened with Malfoy—remarkably, Narcissa wasn't quite forthcoming about the exact details—I'm guessing you had good reason. You're not an idiot, Sirius, and I'm not going to lecture you. I just want you to be more careful. If someone bothered to tell me about this, then I'm just going to go ahead and assume the Warden's already heard. I know I don't need to tell you what that means.

Merlin, I'd give just about anything for you to not have all this shit on your shoulders, Siri. I know it isn't fair.

Halloween is coming up. Do you want to meet at Hagrid's again, before the feast? I'll bring Feathers and you can bring your friends. We'll make a whole go of it. Feathers can entertain your friends while you and I work out a strategy for Christmas. Do you think you could convince a professor to let you stay at Hogwarts?

Until I see you, stay close to your friends, and for the love of Salazar, Siri, please stay safe.

I love you, always.

Andromeda

P.S. I still haven't had any luck reaching Regulus. I'm sorry, Sirius, but I think it's safe to assume that the Warden is burning my letters, too.

Andromeda,

Sorry you got dragged into all this. I didn't mean for that to happen. Well, I definitely meant to do get back at Malfoy. He hurt Remus. That's the end of the story, really. Malfoy hurt Remus and said he didn't deserve to be at Hogwarts because he's a half-blood, so I used one of the Warden's curses on Malfoy. Now, Malfoy's got a scar. Can't say I'm particularly sorry about that.

I'm okay, mostly. Terrified, if I'm being honest, but it's okay when I'm with James and Remus and just going to classes and stuff. (And hexing the Slytherins, but shhhh! McGonagall hasn't caught on just yet to the hilarious pranks we've pulled. It seems I accidentally started something of a war by cursing Malfoy, between us and the Slytherins. We're going to win. Remus will make sure we're not caught.) I'm lucky, I think. Terrified and fucked beyond belief, but I'm lucky to have James and Remus. And Peter too, but don't tell him I said that. It'll get to his head. I don't know what I'd have done if that stupid Hat put me in Slytherin.

I'm trying not to think about the Warden at all, really, but you're right. Some kind of strategy is probably in order. I don't know if it's as simple as asking a professor to stay. Plus, with the exception of Professor Idunn because of my immeasurable talent in Ancient Runes, I've not gained the favour of too many professors. I'm pretty sure McGonagall is out for my head and she's the head of Gryffindor. I'd have to go through her.

Speaking of McGonagall, I don't think I'll be able to meet you. I've got detention for the Malfoy Incident for a whole month. She expects me to write this huge essay on curses and Dark Magic as well, so I'll more than likely be stuck in the library. Sorry.

Thanks for checking in with Reg. Honestly, I didn't expect much. I'm more worried what the Warden's been telling him about me. I think I'll actually die if Reg hates me when I go back to Grimmauld Place.

Thanks for your letter. It's good hearing from someone who's at least partially sane. Love you too.

Sirius

P.S. I'll be sure to hex Fawley into oblivion, if I ever see him. No one gets between you and Feathers.

OCTOBER 12, 1971

The next week flew by relatively quickly. As per his punishment with McGonagall, Malfoy avoided the first year Gryffindors like the plague, though Sirius still couldn't shake Malfoy's ever-watchful gaze. It made him fidget and twitch and, more often than not, Sirius had to suppress the urge to send hex after hex in Malfoy's direction. It would only be reported back to his mother and, at this point, Sirius couldn't afford to tack on more grievances for Walburga Black to carve out of his flesh.

Although Malfoy couldn't interfere himself, Sirius was convinced that Malfoy had simply taken to sending the Carrows or Avery to do his bidding. There'd been more than a few scuffles, one of which left James with a broken nose and Remus with a hex that gave him large, vampire-like fangs. Remus, although back to normal within in an hour thanks to Madam Pomfrey, had spent the rest of the day with his mouth firmly clamped shut. He'd resolutely refused to speak to anyone, until that evening, when Sirius had handed him the last of Regulus's chocolate out on the roof.

After that, Sirius could not, on a clean conscience, let the Slytherins' transgressions go unpunished. With Sirius's near-constant pestering, he'd convinced James to vanish Avery's tongue completely, and, rather miraculously, really, Madam Pomfrey had said the only thing to do was regrow it from scratch, which meant that Avery had spent the better part of the past three days unable to talk and had been taking all of his meals in the form of grey mush.

The Carrows had been a bit trickier, given their proclivity of hanging around one Severus Snape, who, much to Sirius's chagrin, had not done anything recently that would further jeopardise his still-rather-precarious relationship with Lily Evans.

He'd had to be a bit more creative, so yesterday, after yet another disastrous Care of Magical Creatures lesson—it'd been doxies this time, and immediately upon catching sight of Remus, they'd swarmed him and started pulling at his hair until Professor Cuckoo had charmed them to sleep—Sirius had followed a sulking Remus to the library. After a bit of research and more than a bit of nagging Remus to get him to help, Sirius and Remus had made their way down to the dungeons. They'd hidden behind a statue for what had seemed like well over an hour—they'd argued about Frankenstein again, because Remus could not get behind the idea that the monster was not, in fact, a true monster, nor that he was capable of love—before the Carrow twins finally emerged from behind a tapestry.

Sirius had conjured his magic, let it twirl between his fingers just for show, before he'd shot Remus a smirk, stepped out in the open, and muttered, "Sanguinem Ligare!"

Alecto and Amycus Carrow had both levitated, then were suddenly thrown together as if drawn to each other by magnets. They'd stood there, shoulder to shoulder, cursing and completely unable to separate themselves from each other. Remus had sighed, though Sirius hadn't missed that wonderfully dangerous gleam in his eye, and had cast an extension charm, so that the blood-binding hex wouldn't wear off in just an hour, as A Hundred and Forty Seven Ways to Mildly Inconvenience Your Mortal Enemy had said it would.

That morning at breakfast, the Carrows had still literally been glued together at the hip. According to the whispers coming from the Slytherin table that James had conveniently amplified for their entertainment, the Carrows had been forced go to Quidditch practice the day before, and they'd had a slight tumble off their broom, seeing as neither of them could fly particularly well whilst carrying the "useless deadweight of the other sibling". The Carrows had also, apparently, refused to shower after their Quidditch practice, given their inability to separate themselves. As Marlene and Dorcas had reported after passing the temporarily conjoined twins in the halls, the Carrows reeked of mud and sweat and something that, according to Remus, was almost certainly urine.

All in all, Sirius Black felt rather vindicated.

After Defense Against the Dark Arts on Tuesday, Sirius waved a quick goodbye to James and Peter—they were off to stake out the Quidditch Pitch for the fifth time that week, in what James had repeatedly called, "strategic reconnoissance"—Sirius accompanied Lily Evans to the library. They walked side by side, in silence, then just stared at each other, from across the table, when they'd finally found a relatively private table towards the back and well out of Madam Pince's general vicinity.

Without breaking eye contact, Lily reached into her bag and produced a large, leather-bound novel. She tossed it on the table between them and, for whatever reason, Sirius hadn't been expecting her to do so. He jumped at the noise, then flushed a little in embarrassment. Lily smirked.

Forcing his heart rate to return to normal, Sirius let out a long breath and reached for the book, not bothering to look at the title, as he pilfered through the pages. There were no spells or references to magical tattoos or curse breaking whatsoever, as he'd been expecting. Sirius frowned and narrowed his eyes at Lily.

"What's this, then?"

"Les Miserables," Lily said, crossing her arms across her chest. "It's that novel I told you about. The one with revolution and romance."

"The French one?"

"Yup."

Sirius looked between the open book and Lily Evans, confused. "This is in English."

"It's a translation."

"How will I get the full scope of a French story if I don't read it in French?"

Lily raised an eyebrow. "You speak French?"

"'Course I do. English, French, bits of Latin, and a whole string of German curse words, curtesy of the best magical tutors that money can buy."

"Christ, you're so posh," she muttered, but the corners of her lips tugged up in a smile. "All those tutors and you never once touched Muggle literature until you read Frankenstein?"

"Nope. Muggle literature is far beneath us pure-bloods," Sirius said, as he thumbed to the beginning of the book and started reading.

For a solid ten minutes, Lily allowed Sirius to get lost in the dismal world of nineteenth century France. The tale began with a bishop, a weary traveller, and a cruel, unforgiving world.

Lily reached into her bag and produced another book, this one nearly twice the size, and slams it on the table. He didn't jump this time. He'd been waiting for it, in fact.

Sirius glanced up at the book between them. There was a loud hiss and Sirius felt his guts twist into knots. He knew what that book was.

It was leather-bound, old and molding around the edges. The pages had long since gone yellow and they were wavy from age and water damage. Etched into the cover, there was a skull, with a dagger through it, and smoke billowing from its open mouth. A serpent twisted around the hilt of the dagger, its long tail twisting as if it really were still alive. It bared its fangs and hissed in the direction of Lily, writhing against the dagger and snapping its jaw at her, trying to bite and tear into flesh.

Sirius would recognise the book anywhere. This one certainly showed more wear and tear, but it was utterly unmistakeable. His mother had a copy prominently displayed in the library at Grimmauld Place. It'd been in the Black family since it had been published, long ago, when magic was at its darkest. To his knowledge, no one knew who'd written it, but given his mother's pride in the book and the fact that there were only twelve known copies left in existence after the mass burning of books about Dark Magic in 1689, he'd place good money that the author had been an ancestor of his and, therefore, the book was kept safe and pristine in the Black library.

The title was red, long ago written in the author's blood, though it was still bright and oozing as if the wound had only recently been open: Most Vile Tome of Blood Magicks.

"Where, in the name of Salazar, did you get that book?" Sirius whispered, his voice thick and his heart in his throat. Les Miserables closed in on itself on his lap as he leaned forward, his place lost, but Sirius couldn't bring himself to care.

Lily watched his expression closely. "The Restricted Section. Where else?"

"Who—" His voice cracked a little. He cleared his throat. "Who the hell gave a first year permission to check this out?!"

"Professor Rattleburn, technically."

"Technically?"

"Well, I actually checked out a book on hexes and their counters for the essay she assigned, but while I was in the Restricted Section, I thought I might as well research blood curses. This one looked promising, so I grabbed it and stuffed it in my bag. That snake kept hissing at me, so I pretended to have a cough the whole way out of the library."

Sirius blinked at her. "That was… You'd make a damn fine Slytherin, Evans."

"Don't insult me," she huffed, but she still looked a little proud. "Now. What do you know about this book?"

"I know that you, especially, should not let that snake bite you," he said, drawing out his words a bit and dancing around the real question.

"Why? What would happen?"

"I don't know, exactly, but if I had to guess, it's hissing at you because you're Muggle-born. See, watch." He reached for the book and ran his fingers across the cover. The snake shut its mouth and preened, leaning into Sirius's touch. Sirius drew his hand back and glowered at the book. "I just know that it was charmed by Dark wizards who hate Muggles as a general rule. It's probably something nasty."

"Noted." Lily gestured at the book. "I take it you've read this before."

Sirius nodded. "At least three times, all the way through. There's no cure in there. I can assure you, I've looked."

Lily ignored him entirely and carefully opened the enormous book. The snake hissed and lunged at her, but she let the cover fall flat on the table and it fell silent once more. She thumbed through the pages, landing about halfway through the volume.

"There's a whole section on magical tattoos, all of them with their own rituals," she said. "There are detailed rituals in here, including the one I believe was used on you. The Sanguinem Purificatus. The blood of four family members, usually the eldest living, is spilled in a ritual circle. The initiate—that'd be you—sits in the middle of the circle and is covered in the blood. Then, his own hand is cut and mixed with his family's blood and ink made from the ashes of the ceremonial fire. While the others in the circle, the matriarch of the family uses her wand to carve the mark on the initiate and—"

Sirius's vision swirled, lost for a moment in Lily's words, before shook his head. "I'm quite familiar with the rest, thanks, Evans."

"Right. Sorry," she said, slowly. She shifted in her chair and leaned forward, over the book. "What exactly is your mark?"

"My— What?"

"You weren't very specific the other night. The book talks about a whole bunch of different types of Dark Marks and tattoos. Some families just use their family seal, but other runes or symbols can be imbued with more magic. Some marks can be used to summon an initiate, some cause pain, and there was one that—fucking hell—would turn the initiate to ash if they so much as thought of betraying their family."

Thank Merlin his mother hadn't used that one. Sirius would've been ash the second he'd been sorted into Gryffindor.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to think of how much worse it could be, should his mother decide to implement any one of the spells in that book.

"My mark," he said, his voice low, "is my family's words, above my heart. It… hurts whenever someone of a lesser bloodline touches me, even if it's a pure-blooded blood traitor. It's meant to discourage association with anyone with impure blood. No way for an heir to produce a half-blood bastard if he can't bloody touch a Muggle-born, eh? The mark prevents…contamination."

Lily pulled a face. Sirius couldn't really blame her.

"The pain isn't just the mark," he went on. "It… Well, to be quite honest, when I touch you or Remus or James or anyone else, it feels like someone decided to set my bones on fire and then stab me about a hundred thousand times."

"Right." Lily sat up straighter in her chair, inching backwards. There was a table separating them, but she had this look in her eye that said she was afraid to even get near him. Sirius didn't know whether to feel grateful or insulted. "What exactly is the mark?"

"Does it matter?"

"It might."

Merlin, what's one more horrible family secret he'd give away? Sirius let out a breath. "Toujours Pur. Always Pure."

"Oh." Lily was quiet for a moment, her face frustratingly blank. Then: "That's rather on the nose, don't you think?"

That was so far from any one of the possible reactions he'd been expecting that Sirius couldn't hold back a laugh. It's a little delirious and more than a bit self-deprecating, but it felt good to just have a laugh at the insanity of it all.

"Right," Lily said, reaching into her bag and pulling out another book.

This one, too, Sirius recognised from the Black library. Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy. He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, tipping his chair to balance on two legs as he did so, waiting for Lily to explain.

"Now, it's my understanding that all you pure-bloods keep tabs on each other. Since we've established the ritual used for your mark and we know its effects, I thought you could tell me what other families have similar tattoos and rituals, so we can search through the histories to see if there's any reference to a cure."

"There's no cure, Evans."

Merlin, he'd lost count of how many times he'd said that to her. It was true, technically speaking. A mark like that one was too powerful to come with any sort of counter-spell or loophole. The words on his chest could not be burned away, carved off, or covered up by anything. If the skin was damaged, the scar would heal, and the words would appear again on top of it, completely and irreversibly intact.

But Lily's hunch wasn't entirely unfounded. There had to be… something. Andromeda, after all, had found a way to hold hands with Ted Tonks without any residual pain.

Sirius had been giving that a great deal of thought lately. He hand't exactly worked up the courage to actually ask Andromeda about it. He was terrified of the answer. Andromeda was cunning—she was Slytherin, after all—and was something of a force of nature when she sets her mind on something.

The thing was, Sirius already had a hunch as to how she'd done it. A mark like that, imbued with that kind of magic, could only be outmatched by an equally powerful ritual. He wasn't sure what kind of ritual, exactly, but he was certain that it involved a good deal of blood magic, pain, and probably came with its own set of stipulations, addendums, and dire, world-ending consequences.

On the one hand, Sirius figured it meant that Muggle-born, Hufflepuff, apothecary-owner Ted Tonks had one hell of a backbone, if he had been willing to perform this unspecified ritual just so he could hold Andromeda's hand. It meant that he loved her, unequivocally, and that he was so fiercely loved by Andromeda in return.

That kind of love… it was dangerous. Powerful, imbued with its own innate magic, and so tragically beautiful, sure, but it was also wild, and laced with every symptom of insanity. That kind of love consumes you, and mother of Merlin, Sirius knew it well.

"Humour me," Lily said, interrupting his thoughts.

"Fine," Sirius groused. "For the past century or so, most families that traditionally practiced this particular blood ritual have resigned themselves to only branding the eldest male heir. It's still expected that everyone else in the family still marry into pure-blood, but for these families, only the male heir bears the brand of his house. "

"That'd be you, then."

"Yes, but like I told you, everyone in my family has the mark."

"Why'd the other families change, then?"

"Convenience?" Sirius tried. "Suddenly, there were all these Muggle-borns and half-bloods running around. The old families were dying out. All that mattered was keeping the line pure, through the male heir. Everyone else, it didn't matter so much, as long as the name continued."

"But the Blacks didn't agree?"

"The Blacks tend to believe that even the slightest hint of impurity should be met with excruciating pain," he said, unable to hide a grimace. "The Shafiqs believe the same, as do the Lestranges." Sirius pulled Nature's Nobility towards him and flipped it open. "The Averys, Yaxleys, Notts, Gaunts, and Princes only brand the male heir, but the last of the Gaunts is locked in Azkaban and the Princes have all died out."

Lily, who had been frantically scribbling down the names as he talked, paused, looked up at him, and frowned. "No, they haven't."

"What?"

"Severus's mother is a Prince. They haven't all died out."

Sirius raised an eyebrow and filed that bit of information away for later.

Lily grabbed the book back from him, spun it around and flipped to the P's.

"Snape won't be in there, Evans."

"Why the hell not?" she snapped, without looking up. "It's called A Wizarding Genealogy, not The Pure-Blood Genealogy."

"To most pure-bloods, it's the same thing," Sirius said, with a shrug. "Besides, if Snape's a half-blood, it means his mum married a Muggle, and, if she did that, she was probably disowned. I highly doubt she's even in there."

Lily finally landed on the right page. Her eyebrows pinched together as her frown deepened. "You're right. The Prince line ends with Everett Prince, born 1901. But how is that possible. Surely there's a record that she was born?"

"There probably is somewhere, but not in that book," Sirius replied. "The book's magic, Evans. It updates for every birth, every death, and every poor sod that goes and gets themselves disowned."

"Alright, then," Lily said, closing the book once more and taking up her quill. "What are the names of the individual patriarchs that have their own marks?"

Sirius paused, wracking his brain. "Mortimer Yaxley, Milton Avery, Pulsifer Nott, and Morfin Gaunt, I think. I always get the two Avery brothers mixed up. They're both hideous and they're both fanatics. Not the type you'd like to run into."

Lily nodded and made a note to look up the Averys. "Does every family perform the ritual when the initiate is eight years old?"

"Ideally," Sirius replied. "Eight is a powerful year, historically speaking. It's usually when accidental magic starts manifesting. It's understood to be when a pure-blood child comes into their inheritance, but the ritual doesn't always happen on the eighth birthday. If a male heir dies, his younger brother or cousin would be forced into the ritual, even if they were well into adulthood. The line must continue."

"Right. I'll see what I can find out about possible variations in the ritual and—"

Lily cut off, her eyes wide and fixed on something over Sirius's shoulder. He didn't have time to turn or properly react before Remus sat down next to him, armed with his own stack of ancient looking books.

"Mind if I sit?" Remus said, even though it was a bit redundant at this point.

Lily still hadn't wiped that halfway-guilty look off her face, so Sirius answered for her. "Not at all. What are you reading?"

"Theories on wand magic," Remus said, not looking away from Lily Evans.

Sirius was so caught up in the bizarre tension between Lily and Remus, that he almost didn't register what Remus said. It hit him like a ton of bricks and he very nearly choked on the air. "W-wand magic?"

That couldn't be right, could it? He'd misheard, or something, because why, in the name of Merlin, would Remus be researching wand magic? Unless—

No. Remus had to be lying, because Lily Evans was sitting right there. It was probably something for the Ravenclaw prank, hence the secrecy.

"Yes," Remus said, easily, and Merlin, it didn't sound like he was lying. Then again, Remus was quite good at lying, wasn't he? He'd told a thousand lies about his scars, even as recently as last week, when he'd taken Sirius's advice and told James and Peter that the brand new marks on his face were retaliation for stepping on McGonagall's tail one night. McGonagall, at least as far as James and Peter were concerned, had quite a temper when she was a cat.

Remus raised an eyebrow at Lily, as if daring her to answer. "What about you two?"

Lily opened and closed her mouth, then seemed to decide it was best for it to remain closed for the moment. She threw a panicked look at Sirius.

He rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. "Evans was helping me research curses and Dark Magic for McGonagall's essay."

It wasn't necessarily untrue, but it wasn't the full truth either, and he was about eighty percent sure that Remus didn't quite believe him. Lily wasn't exactly helping, what with that wide-eyed panic written all across her face, but Sirius couldn't exactly blame her. She was keeping his secret, after all, and had been caught a bit off guard. It takes practice, to lie as easily as he and Remus did.

Lily, snapping out of her daze, snatched both her books from the table and stuffed them in her bag. She stood up fast, her chair scraping against the floor and nearly tipping over as she did so. "Right. Sirius, I'll…" She hesitated and shifted uncomfortably. "I'll get back to you about that… curse you asked about."

Then, mumbling a quick goodbye, Lily slung her bag over her shoulder and left, mumbling to herself as she went.

Remus turned in his chair to face Sirius. "Please tell me you're not planning to curse the Slytherins again. You're in enough trouble, Sirius. There's a real possibility that McGonagall will actually claw your face off if she catches you again."

Sirius barked a laugh. "No, of course not. You think I convinced Evans to help me curse Slytherins? She's best friends with Snivellus."

"She's quite good friends with you as well, in case you hadn't noticed."

"That's because I'm amazing." Remus snorted and kicked the leg of Sirius's chair for good measure. Sirius smirked and continued, "Besides, if I want to curse the living daylights out of the Slytherins, I've got you and James and Pete to help. And I seem to remember that we have a prior commitment, as far as elaborate schemes go, so let's get to it, shall we?"

He reached for one of Remus's books and pulled it close, then felt his heart leap into his throat when he caught sight of the cover. The Art of Wand-Making Around the World. Sirius grabbed the other three books in Remus's stack. The Heart and the Matter: Varying Theories on Wand Cores, The Wizard and His Wand, and, strangely enough, a beaten copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.

Well, shit.

Sirius grabbed at the pile, snatching The Wizard and His Wand away from Remus before he could raise a protest.

Raising a finger and turning a little bit red, Remus said, "That one actually has very little to do with wand making, but it was in the Restricted Section, so I took it. I got about half-way through before I realized why it was in the Restricted Section. Honestly, I can't believe Madam Pince let me check that out."

Curiosity won out over the mild swell of panic twisting up his insides. Sirius raised an eyebrow and went to open The Wizard and His Wand, but Remus immediately slapped a hand on the cover.

"Don't," Remus said, with a small laugh. "It's, ah. It's illustrated."

Sirius pushed the book away, then schooled his expression. "You're…" he started, choking a bit on his words. "You're actually researching wands?"

Remus looked genuinely confused. "Yes? I already told you that."

"Yeah, well, I thought you were researching how to get Hogwarts to recognise a flag as a part of itself and that you lied because Evans was here."

Remus shrugged. "I have been researching that, just not today. Today, I'm researching wands. But, now that you mention it, I do have—"

"Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why are you researching wand magic?"

Remus paused, a small frown tugging at a few of the most recent scars on his face. "You never wrote Ollivander. About your wand."

It wasn't exactly an accusation, just a… statement of a fact.

"I—" Sirius started, then clamped his mouth shut. There was a perfectly good reason he'd never written Ollivander. Writing Ollivander meant confessing that Sirius had killed his own wand. It meant admitting to an Unforgivable.

"I mean," Remus continued, looking a little nervous, "you said the core of your wand didn't fit the Whomping Willow's wood. Outside of McGonagall's class, I've seen you use your wand just the once, with Malfoy, and, yes, you're quite a prodigy at wandless magic—" Remus paused, graciously allowing Sirius an opportunity to look quite smug with himself. "—but you can't get by on wandless magic forever, Siri. You need a wand. I thought I'd help."

"I, um…" Merlin, Sirius had no idea what to say to that, so, after a moment of hopeless floundering, he settled with a sincere, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." A raw, genuine smile spread slowly across Remus's face. He gestured to his pile of books and, mother of Merlin, Remus had that look in his eye again: the one that said, Fuck the world because I've cracked the secrets of the universe a bit too loudly for polite company. "The trick is matching the enchanted willow wood to a magical core. The core has to, in a way, compliment the Whomping Willow specifically, which is difficult because—"

"It's guarding a secret," Sirius finished.

Remus gave a slight nod. "For whatever reason, the magic of the Willow is somehow entwined with this… secret."

"So we need to find out what the secret is?"

"Not… necessarily." Remus let out a nervous cough and looked away. "You need a magical core that's worthy of the magic and ferocity of the Whomping Willow, as well as one fitting to you."

"You're saying a bloody unicorn wasn't worthy?" Sirius deadpanned.

"A unicorn is too… pure," Remus said, grimacing.

"Pure?" Sirius felt a sudden, horrible weight in the pit of his stomach. Of course, that was the problem. He'd killed the unicorn hair core with Dark Magic, hadn't he? A creature that innocent and perfect would never be—

"I'm not— Merlin, Siri," Remus muttered. He scrubbed a hand over his face. "I'm sorry. All I meant was that a thing that pure doesn't necessarily compliment the nature of the Whomping Willow, or you, by extension, since this wand chose you. I meant… Look, you told me Ollivander said the Willow loved this… secret it's protecting, unreservedly. Right?"

Sirius nodded, not quite sure where Remus was going with this. "Right."

"Right," Remus repeated. He sat up a bit straighter, fidgeting wildly as he talked. "Sirius, love like that—all entwined up in magic and purpose and destiny—it's never pure, or innocent. Not in the same sense that a unicorn is pure. Purity to a unicorn means it's unsullied. Untouched, even. The Willow… that kind of love burns with all the fury of the heavens. A unicorn can never love like that. This kind of love is instinctual and raw and it's—"

It's the kind of love that fires Unforgivable and healing spells, one right after the other.

"Oh."

Sirius and Remus stared at each other for a long moment, before Remus finally broke the tension with a small smile and nudged the leg of Sirius's chair with his foot.

Sirius laughed a little and cleared his throat of the unexpected emotion that welled up. "So. You're going to fix my wand."

"No," Remus said, with a patient sigh. "This is complicated magic. I have neither the skill nor the desire to become a wand-maker. You need a functioning wand, so I'm coming up with a possible solution. Ollivander will fix it, if and when I find a compatible core."

"Alright, then." Sirius reached for Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. He flipped to the middle of the book. "So we're looking for a magical creature that compliments both the magic of the Willow and, well, me. Have you narrowed down the list of candidates? This is quite a long book."

Remus gave a noncommittal shrug. "I have a working theory."

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "Please tell me it's not Hickory Dave."

Remus laughed. "No. Definitely not Hickory Dave."

"How exactly do you plan on getting this mysterious magical creature to give you a…" Sirius trailed off, not entirely certain of what parts of magical creatures could be used for wand cores.

"A tooth," Remus finished for him.

"A tooth?!"

"Yep."

Sirius gaped at him, waiting for Remus to elaborate, but clearly, Remus had no plans on doing so. Sirius narrowed his eyes. "That sounds… vaguely ominous. How exactly do you plan on getting a bloody tooth from this creature?"

"I have a theory on that too," Remus answered, as if that were the end of it.

"Care to share with the class?"

"No." Remus smirked at him, smug and very clearly triumphant. "I don't think I will."

OCTOBER 16, 1971

"I've had a thought," Remus said.

"Ooh, sounds dangerous. Tell me."

It was a cool, early afternoon on a Saturday, and Remus and Sirius were in the greenhouse. Their mission was twofold: steal a few of the large sheets of canvas Professor Woodward had been using to cover the Peruvian Snarl-Dragons and collect a fair amount of Speckle Grass to be used as paint.

Remus, being the taller of the two of them, had been nominated, unanimously, by Sirius to handle the canvas removal. The Peruvian Snarl-Dragons weren't even up to Remus's knees—they wouldn't be fully grown, man-eating nightmares until the spring, or so Professor Woodward assured them—but they still had a nasty bite. The venom of a Peruvian Snap-Dragon left its victim dazed and confused, and, as they'd found out the week before, highly susceptible to suggestion. Peter had taken a good nip in the backside in class, when he'd been laughing at one of Sirius's jokes, and, well. The whole thing culminated in Peter doing an Irish dance on the Gryffindor table during dinner. It was all good fun, until McGonagall had made Peter and Sirius—who she'd immediately decided was behind the whole stunt, despite his vehement protests—clean up the whole mess of scattered food and pumpkin juice without magic.

Remus, for his part, had thus far expertly avoided any contact with the Snap-Dragon fangs and had almost finished gathering the canvases by the time Sirius stood. Remus snorted a laugh, when he caught sight of Sirius. Sirius let out a pitiful groan. He was well aware that he was covered head to toe in Speckle Grass dust. The grass itself was rather ordinary looking, save for the fact that it was white and incredibly soft to the touch. It was, however, covered in a fine dust that could turn any possible colour with just the slightest touch of magic. With a little finesse, a wizard could determine the colour of the dust, and it made for very fine paint, but, of course, Remus had failed to mention the finesse bit, and Sirius had simply gone in and grabbed a handful of Speckle Grass. The dust… well, Sirius's hair was a purple-ish shade. There were red and blue streaks across his face and hands, and his robes were dotted with patches of silver, and yellow, and a horrible shade of lime green right over his crotch.

Remus snickered again when Sirius waved his hand and tried to remove the dust in one fell swoop. Despite the magic twirling between his fingers, all it did was brighten the shades of colour.

"Here," Remus said, setting down the canvas and walking up to Sirius. He drew his wand and tapped it to Sirius's pouting face. "Scourgify."

The dust cleared and Sirius muttered his thanks. Then, turning back to his pile of Speckle Grass, he flicked his wrist and the grass floated into a whicker basket they'd nicked from Woodward's office. "So," Sirius said, brushing out his robes again for good measure. "You had a thought?"

"Actually, I've had several." Remus yanked the last canvas free of the Snarl-Dragons. "Relatively speaking, this operation is fairly simple. The books on Hogwarts's magic are in the library, the spells—although there are a lot of them—aren't particularly complicated, and the execution won't be too difficult, if all that's required are a giant flag and a couple of brooms."

Sirius shrugged, internally disagreeing with one point. The spell were very complicated. They were extending both the sentience and inherent magic of the castle to include a flag they planned to make themselves. The spell required to make a legitimate extension to the castle required the extension to have life within itself before it was integrated into Hogwarts itself. This had stumped Remus and Sirius for a good two days, before, last night, Sirius had woken up Remus around two in the morning with an ingenious solution. The castle requires life, so why not give it? Blood magic, plain and simple, and founded in such wonderful benevolence, Sirius had kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner.

After that particular epiphany, it seemed like the easiest thing in the world: Once Sirius gathered all the Speckle Grass dust for the paint, the four Gryffindor boys would add a few drops of their blood, thus imbuing the paint with their life-force, which, according to the ancient, Latin spell-book, would give the flag enough magic to endure as long as Hogwarts itself. It was the purest kind of blood ritual—so far afield from the one used by the Blacks—and the enormity of it all took Sirius's breath away if he allowed himself to dwell on it.

This was good.

This was Gryffindor.

This would be their legacy.

"What's your point?" Sirius said, tearing himself from his own thoughts.

"What's to stop the Ravenclaws from retaliating? All they'd need is a few spells and a flag. Their flag wouldn't even have to be all that big, either, since they're not making up the distance."

"They're Ravenclaws," Sirius huffed. "They don't retaliate."

"They do if it's a matter of proving who's more intelligent."

"Ugh, fair enough. What do we do?"

"We have to make sure they'll never be able to get to the top of Ravenclaw tower."

"And you know how to do that?"

Remus shrugged, then flicked his wand to fold up the giant pieces of canvas. "More or less. We hex the shit out of their roof. Nothing nasty, of course, but enough layered hexes to deter even the most persistent Ravenclaws."

"That… would be a lot of hexes."

"Yes it would," Remus said, dismissively, before continuing on with his rant. "So, while you and James fly the flag up on our tower, Pete and I will break into Ravenclaw tower and—"

Sirius stopped fiddling with his robes and looked up sharply. "Wait, hold on. You're breaking into Ravenclaw tower?"

Remus paused, blinking at Sirius. "Yes. I thought it best that we lock all their windows on our way out, so at least they can't get up on the roof that way. They'd have to fly up on a broom, and then, well… Hexes."

"I'm coming with you."

"What?" Remus's face scrunched up in confusion. "You're flying with James, Sirius. You're the one who knows the final incantations."

"Pete can fly with James and I'll show James the incantations. We can do most of them before they fly the flag up there anyway," Sirius insisted. "I want to break into Ravenclaw tower."

"Why?"

"I'm quite good at hexes, I'll have you know. Plus, you've seen my locking charm, remember? No one but you has ever been able to break it."

Remus raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, waiting for Sirius to fork over the whole truth.

Sirius groaned. "Alright, fine. James promised me a consolation snog."

Remus opened and closed his mouth. "You—You want to snog James Potter?"

Sirius gave a noncommittal wave of his hand. "Not particularly. It's more about the prestige and proving I can break into Ravenclaw."

"If this is a consolation snog…"

Sirius nodded and finished the thought. "James has to snog me and profess his undying love to me in the Great Hall if I ever manage to break into Slytherin."

Remus snorted a laugh. "In that case, let's get you that consolation snog." He gathered the folded canvases into his arms, then flicked his wand at the basket of Speckle Grass to levitate it. "But first, we need a flag. Let's go. James said he'd call in reinforcements."

Sirius and Remus made their way up to the Astronomy Tower, occasionally ducking inside alcoves and behind statues to avoid passerbys. Neither of them particularly cared to explain to a professor or fellow student why they were carrying a pile of stolen canvases between them and being followed by a levitating basket that was currently leaking purple dust.

James and Peter were waiting with a large cauldron, in the centre of the Astronomy Tower. It was still light out, but the evening twilight was quickly fading into darkness. To the southeast, Sirius could just make out his star, the heart of Canis Major, rising above the Scottish moors.

"Are you sure we couldn't have gone to dinner first?" Peter said to James, just as Remus and Sirius walked in.

James gave a half-hearted shrug, as if he'd been thinking the same thing.

"We have to do the blood ritual and paint the flag in one go, preferably before curfew, otherwise the spell might not work properly," Remus said, as he and Sirius set down the canvases next to the cauldron. Remus stood up straight and fished around in the pockets of his robes. "Here. I brought provisions."

He tossed a Chocolate Frog first to Peter, then to James, taking a third one out for himself. Then, digging in his robes a little more, he produced a sugar quill. Remus handed it to Sirius with an apologetic smile, and muttered, "Sorry I don't have anything more filling."

Sirius, on the other hand, didn't care in the slightest. He hadn't been too concerned about missing dinner in the first place. It wasn't like it was the first time he'd missed a meal. He broke off the tip of the sugar quill and popped it in his mouth, flashing Remus a winning smile.

"Ugh, another Helga Hufflepuff?" Peter moaned around a mouthful of chocolate, staring in dismay at his card.

James looked at his own card and pulled a face. "I'll trade you for it later, Pete. Sirius, care to do the honours?"

James tossed his card to the floor, face-up, in the middle of the four of them. Sirius would recognise that general scowl of disapproval anywhere. It lived on in both his mother and his father and haunted Sirius's nightmares.

Phineas Nigellus Black.

"With pleasure," he said. Sirius flicked his wrist and the card caught on fire, disintegrating in seconds, but not before a look of abject horror crossed over his great-great grandfather's face.

Peter pouted a little. "That one was rare."

"Yeah, well," Sirius said, dismissively, "come over to mine and you can listen to him bitch and moan all day long. Filthy Muggles, this, and ungrateful Mudbloods, that. It all gets rather repetitive, really. No original content whatsoever. It's a wonder anyone listened to him at all. Now, my mother… she's creative with her insults, you see, but that's a circle of hell in and of itself."

Peter gulped and wisely shut his mouth.

Sirius smirked and bit off another piece of sugar quill, leaning back on his heels, pretending to be triumphant for proving his point. Except, that uncomfortable swirl of dread and terror that settled in his stomach didn't feel particularly triumphant.

Remus cleared the dust away with a swirl of his wand. "Let's get this started, shall we?"

Another flick of Remus's wand had the basket of Speckle Grass unceremoniously dumping its contents into the cauldron.

Now came the blood.

"Best I go first," Sirius muttered under his breath, only loud enough so that Remus could hear. Sirius had no intention whatsoever of risking contact with James or Remus's blood. If touching them hurt as much as it did, he didn't even want to imagine what their blood would do to him.

Sirius produced a small, silver knife from the pockets of his robes. He dragged the knife across his palm and bit his lip against the pain. He held the open wound over the cauldron and counted until thirteen drops of blood fell in. The ritual called for thirteen. Then, muttering a quick scourgify for the knife and an episkey for his hand, Sirius held out the hilt of the knife to Remus.

Remus stared at the gleaming silver hilt for a solid minute, a frown on his face, and—

Merlin, Remus was terrified. "Is that… silver?"

"Yes," Sirius said, hesitantly. "Nicked it from my mum before I left for school. It's probably a family heirloom of some degree, but I just thought it looked… neat."

Remus swallowed loudly and cleared his throat. "Can you, um—" He looked desperately between Sirius and the knife. "Can you do it for me?"

A cold dose of realisation washed over Sirius. "You're—"

"Squeamish, yes," Remus finished.

But, no, that wasn't it at all. Sirius thought of Remus, propped up against the wall in the second floor bathroom, absolutely covered in blood. Remus wasn't afraid of blood, per se. He was afraid of the knife.

Sirius pulled the knife back. "If you want, we can use magic. All we need is blood—"

"'Blood drawn by man's own blade,'" Remus quoted. "If we use magic, it won't work."

"Then you don't have to—"

"It works better with four, Siri," Remus said. "It's a powerful magical number, like the four points on the compass. The spell-book said so. Just do it."

Sirius took a second to calculate the best way to do this without actually touching Remus. If he held Remus's hand while he made the cut, there was a chance Sirius would react to the pain and flinch. He'd hurt Remus, if he didn't make a clean, precise cut. Glancing over at James, who's face was pinched up in sympathy, Sirius said, "Maybe James should—"

Remus shook his head, and it broke his heart, but Sirius understood that too. James might be a good friend and a stand-up guy, but Remus trusted Sirius with this. This, and the burden of his fear.

"Alright," Sirius said, flipping the knife back over. "Hold your wrist for me, yeah? Keep it steady."

Remus understood and did as he was asked, holding his left wrist with his right hand over the cauldron. Sirius stepped forward and, very carefully, dragged the blade across Remus's upturned left palm.

A whimper escaped Remus, before he had a chance to bite his lips, but no one commented on it. The second the cut was deep enough, Sirius yanked the knife back. Tears glistened in the corners of Remus's eyes, but they did not fall, and Remus maintained his composure.

Braveheart Gryffindor, a voice in Sirius's head whispered, and for once, he agreed. Remus was the best out of all of them.

Once more, Sirius cleaned off the knife. Then, with his magic still dancing on the tips of his fingers, he turned back to Remus, ready with a healing spell, but Remus waved him off, instead producing a handkerchief from his pocket. He wrapped his hand and gave Sirius a small, reassuring smile.

Slightly confused, Sirius passed the knife to James, hardly able to tear his eyes off Remus and the thousand and one emotions flittering intermittently between his scars. He was pale, probably a little more than he should be after losing only thirteen drops of blood, and it made Sirius's insides churn. Remus gave him his best, reassuring smile, but there was still pain hidden behind his eyes.

James sliced his own palm, then handed it off to Peter, who was doing his best to appear brave, but sobbed a little as he cut his hand. Sirius waved his hand and threw a healing charm at both James and Peter, as Remus began the final words of the incantation. Five minutes later, they had a cauldron full of life-force-imbued paint. Sirius flicked his fingers over the cauldron, adding a few weather-proofing and vibrancy charms just for good measure.

"Is it supposed to be that color?" Peter asked, leaning over the simmering black ooze.

Remus nodded. "Tap your wand to the paint and it'll change to whatever color you need."

"Jamie, did you bring paint brushes?" Sirius asked.

"'Course." James reached into the pocket of his robes and produced a handful of brushes.

"Good," Remus said. He looked a little better, and this time his smile was a bit more convincing. Remus turned his back to the cauldron and flicked his wand at the canvases. The four sheets unfolded themselves and spread out across the floor, to form a giant rectangle.

James clapped his hands together, excited. "Now all we need to do is—"

"Oi, Potter! What the hell is all this?"

The four boys turned to face the stairs. Lily Evans stood with her arms crossed over her chest and an annoyed frown on her face. She was flanked on either side by Dorcas Meadows and Marlene McKinnon.

Remus looked between James and the first year girls. "What are they—oh."

James put his hands on his hips and jutted his chin out, looking, all together, far to smug with himself. "Reinforcements," James said, by way of explanation.

"I thought he meant the Prewetts," Sirius muttered to Remus, though he really wasn't too upset about it. He liked Lily Evans quite a bit these days.

"Me too," Remus replied.

"Answer my question, Potter, or I'm leaving, agreement be damned," Lily snapped.

"Agreement?" Sirius asked, quirking an eyebrow at Lily.

Lily pinched the bridge of her nose. "I agreed to help Potter with whatever stupid project this is if he agreed to leave Severus alone for the rest of the year."

James held up a finger. "First of all, Lily, it is not a stupid project. Our names will live in infamy and our grandchildren will remember our legacy—"

"Our grandchildren?!" Lily snapped. Sirius couldn't be reasonably expected to suppress the laughter that bubbled up in his throat.

James ignored her entirely. "Secondly—" He spun on his heel to face Sirius, Remus, and Peter. "—as per the terms of my agreement with the love of my life, none of us will be going after Snape for the rest of the year. So, no more hexing Snivellus—or, er, Severus. Especially you, Sirius."

Sirius rolled his eyes, but didn't bother explaining to James that he already had his own sworn agreement with Lily Evans regarding his conduct towards Severus Snape.

"Excuse me?! The love of your—Christ, Potter."

Lily drew her wand and shot a Stinging Hex directly at James Potter's arse. Again, Sirius barked a laugh, before Lily trained her wand on him.

"Sirius, explain what's going on now, or you're next."

Sirius raised his hands in surrender. "We're making a flag. We needed reinforcements."

"A flag?" Dorcas asked, incredulously.

All three girls leaned to the side to glance around the Gryffindor boys. All three of them wore nearly identical unimpressed looks at the sight of the blank canvases spread out on the floor.

"A giant flag," James clarified, still rubbing his arse.

"Doesn't exactly look like much, does it?" Dorcas mumbled.

"Well," Sirius said, "first we have to stitch it together—"

Marlene McKinnon nudged Lily aside and walked right up to Sirius, stopping only inches from his face. He didn't blink—didn't even flinch—but Merlin, he hated that she was taller than him.

"We won't be stitching anything just because we're girls," she snapped, her blue eyes flashing dangerously at the perceived injustice.

"That's not what I said." Sirius took a step back, just to be safe. Marlene was pure-blood, that much he knew, but she was also in Gryffindor, which more than likely meant that she wasn't pure enough by the extremist Black standards. "I'll be doing the stitching, thank you very much."

Marlene scoffed. "How'd you end up with that job? Do you even know how to stitch?"

"Nope, but neither do they." Sirius gestured wildly to James, Peter, and Remus. "Out of the four of us, we've unanimously agreed that I have the widest range of magic—"

"We've agreed to no such thing," James Potter protested, looking affronted.

"Technically speaking, I think he's right, Jamie," Remus muttered. "Plus, Sirius knows all the permanence charms to make sure the flag doesn't fall apart at the first gust of wind."

"And he does them without a wand," Peter added.

"That's only because he had a head start," James said, pouting a little.

Sirius smirked, absolutely revelling in the fact that all eyes were on him. "Anyways, I figured I'd just wave my hand, and—"

He did just that, muttered a quick joining spell and another permanence charm to boot. In the middle of the four canvases, a loose thread levitated and magically sharpened itself to a point, then shot downwards and began stitching two of the sheets together. The lines were precise and even, the stitching akin to the work of any professional. Sirius flicked his wrist again, and thread began stitching at every junction point between the canvases, until each end tied itself off, and there was only one, enormous canvas sprawled across the floor of the Astronomy Tower.

Marlene inclined her head, in bemused amazement at Sirius's handiwork. "Impressive."

"Alright," Lily said, cutting in. "Now that we've established Sirius as the honorary girl—"

"Hey!"

"—Can someone please tell me what we're actually doing here?"

James held up the paintbrushes as if they were Excalibur and he was King-fucking-Arthur. Which, Sirius thought, was probably not too far off from the image James had of himself in his own head.

"We asked you lot here to help us paint the Hogwarts seal on the flag," James Potter proclaimed to his loyal knights.

On cue, Remus tapped his wand to his chest, where the Hogwarts insignia was sewn onto his robes, then pointed his wand at the enormous canvas. "Exscribo."

A perfect stencil of the Hogwarts insignia shimmered into existence, in full color, hovering a centimeter above the canvas.

Lily gawked at James. "You want us to… paint?"

"Yeah," Sirius answered, because their noble King Arthur seemed to have gotten lost somewhere in the depth of Lily Evans's eyes. "Remus said we have to paint it by hand, otherwise the charms we're using to protect the flag won't work."

Lily turned her attention to Sirius. "Where exactly do you plan on hanging this flag?"

"Ah, that's secret," Sirius said. "But I promise you, there will be pomp and circumstance and they'll remember it for generations. You can tell the little Potter grandchildren all about it."

James made a disgustingly lovesick noise.

"Watch it, Black," Lily growled, but there was no real fight in her voice.

Lily turned to face Marlene and Dorcas and the three of them conversed in furtive whispers. Marlene looked rather like she wanted to shove past Lily, tackle James and steal a paintbrush, then paint the entire canvas herself. Dorcas, on the other hand, kept tugging on Marlene's sleeve and gazing longingly towards the door.

Eventually, Lily spun on her heel to face the four boys. "Alright, fine. We'll help, but we're signing our names on the flag. No use in you lot getting all the credit."

Sirius glanced at his friends. Remus smirked, and nodded, amber eyes flashing with excitement. James was drooling a little bit, lost somewhere in his Lily Evans-induced coma. Peter stared at Remus's robes, apparently trying to discern whether or not Remus had another Chocolate Frog in his pocket.

"Sign our names too, and you have a deal," Sirius said to Lily.

She nodded, then strode forward and snatched a brush from James's hand. James apparently took this as a cue to lean in for a kiss, so Lily punched him in the stomach. Sirius nearly doubled over in laughter, and was still clutching his own stomach when Remus carefully handed him a jug of Speckle Grass paint.

James Potter, however, didn't seem deterred in the slightest. He followed Lily around, as she surveyed the canvas and the stencil, as if she were the sun and he was merely trapped in orbit.

"Merlin, he's hopeless," Remus muttered to Sirius, after his third attempt to get James to focus.

Sirius hummed in agreement. "It's a wonder she punched him instead of throwing him off the Tower."

"At this point, he'd probably grow wings and fly right into the sun."

"Bloody idiot."

The seven of them stood around the edges of the canvas, each holding a paintbrush and a small jug of paint, while Remus explained exactly how the paint would change colour.

Lily gestured to the shimmering stencil, and the four House insignias woven into the Hogwarts seal. "Who's going to paint which House symbols?"

Sirius's hand shot up in the air. "I've got Slytherin!"

"No!" Remus shouted, in counterpoint. He grabbed the edge of Sirius's robe and tugged him over to the non-Slytherin side of the canvas. "Knowing you, you'd probably manage to paint an obscenity or two into the Slytherin symbol."

"Oh, ye of little faith," Sirius muttered.

Actually, in the three total seconds Sirius had had to come up with a plan, he'd landed on placing a Medusa Hex into his green paint, so that whoever looks directly upon the Slytherin symbol temporarily turns into stone. It would have been brilliant. Reluctantly, he let the idea go. He didn't know how the hex would affect the blood ritual they'd done either, and, of the two, ensuring that the flag integrated into the magic of Hogwarts itself seemed exponentially more important.

"We'll do Ravenclaw," Remus said, before immediately sitting down by the navy portion of the stencil. He yanked Sirius down next to him.

"I'll take Slytherin," Lily said. Then, pointing her paintbrush as she talked, "Potter and Pettigrew have Hufflepuff. Marlene and Dee are on Gryffindor. When you finish with your house, start on the banner."

With that, they got to work.

It took them until fifteen minutes before curfew to finish painting, mostly because, about an hour in, James had finally snapped out of his Lily Evans-daze in order to have a proper shouting match with Marlene about some Quidditch team or other. It had only ended when Lily had jumped in and—to everyone's surprise—had taken James's side. It'd shut James up for all of fourteen seconds, before he'd walked over to Lily, got down on one knee, and proposed to her with a Golden Snitch he'd had in his pocket. Lily had dumped the remainder of her Speckle Grass paint on James's head and, well, it all devolved from there.

As it turned out, Speckle Grass paint was much more difficult to remove than Speckle Grass dust, which Sirius attributed mostly to the utter brilliance of his permanence charms.

They signed their names under the banner, all seven of them written in black ink along the edge of the flag: Lily Evans, Marlene McKinnon, Dorcas Meadows, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black, and James Potter.

Lily Evans requested that her name be as far away from James's as physically possible.

Standing and flicking the last of his paint in Sirius's face, Remus smirked and waved his wand over the canvas, casting a drying spell. A second later, the flag folded itself back up. After another brief argument between Marlene and James, it was decided via intervention from Lily that both James and Marlene could carry the flag back to Gryffindor tower. Peter trailed after them and, after waving a goodnight to Remus and Sirius, Lily linked arms with Dorcas and followed them.

Remus and Sirius followed, walking slowly, and keeping a well out of earshot of the others. Remus kept fidgeting with the handkerchief still wrapped around his left hand, picking at the paint that had dried there, trying to peel it away.

Outside the portrait hole, Sirius grabbed Remus's robes and stopped him from crawling through. Sirius gestured at Remus's left palm and the handkerchief that was stained with blood and Speckle Grass paint. "Is there a reason you won't let me heal that?"

"It'll heal on its own." Remus shrugged, and the light from the common room caught on his face. He had a splotch of paint right across his nose and dripping down one cheek. It'd been blue, earlier, when Sirius had put it there. Now, though, the paint had turned into a deep crimson, and it made the parallel scars on Remus's face look like they were brand new.

"It'll scar if it heals on his own," Sirius said, his voice breaking. Merlin, he couldn't stand the thought of it. Remus had so many scars, from so many horrific nights of pain. Sirius would rather tear out his own entrails than be responsible for another scar on Remus's body.

Remus gave him a sad smile. It wasn't an absolution, but a heartbroken resignation. Remus muttered something that might have been, "It'll scar either way," but Sirius didn't have a chance to even fully process that before Remus said, "Let's go out on the roof, yeah?"

James and Peter ignored them, as Remus climbed through the window. They were still engrossed in the remnants of whatever meaningless argument James had had with Marlene. Sirius snagged the duvet from his bed and followed Remus.

It was cold out, but Remus didn't seem particularly bothered. The stars shone brightly, only contrasted by the tiny sliver of the moon hanging low in the western sky. Sirius didn't say anything, as he wrapped himself in the duvet and pressed his shoulder into Remus's, revealing in the ever-present, yet significantly dulled twinge of pain.

The pain was comforting, if he was being honest. It meant that all of this was real, that he was here, on the roof, safe in the presence of a friend. It meant that all other pain, past and future, was irrelevant, because the stars burned specifically for them, and no amount of pain could mar the beauty of Remus Lupin.

They sat in silence, well into the night, pressed as close to each other as their respective tragedies would allow.

Sirius did his best to not think about the brand new scar on Remus's left palm.

OCTOBER 30, 1971

"How's your essay for McGonagall going?"

"You're asking me this now?!"

Remus and Sirius were in an alcove in the fourth floor corridor, just down the hall from the door that led to Ravenclaw tower. They were as close together as reasonably possible, and had ducked in here to avoid being seen by some fifth year Ravenclaws until their disguises were properly in place. Sirius flicked his wrist, and both of their ties morphed into that deep, Ravenclaw blue.

"I just meant…" Remus started, then sighed. "We're not going to curse any Ravenclaws, Sirius."

Sirius glared at him. "At what point did I give you the impression that I was secretly planning on cursing the Ravenclaws?"

"You didn't. I just—Christ."

"Despite what McGonagall would have you believe, I think I can tell the difference between some random Ravenclaw and Lucius Malfoy. For one, Malfoy's blonde and fucking ugly Two, he deserved what he got."

Remus grimaced. "Sirius—"

"Shut up," Sirius snapped. "No one has any right to say those sort of things to you. Or hit you. I don't care who they are."

Remus ducked his head, embarrassed. A lock of curly hair fell in his face. A second later, he brushed it aside. "The Ravenclaws—"

"Don't deserve to be cursed," Sirius finished, trying not to roll his eyes. "They just need a gentle reminder that they are capable of being outsmarted. It's all in good fun."

He shot Remus a wicked smile and, much to his relief, Remus returned it. "Just be careful, okay?"

"I will," Sirius promised, dismissively. "If it makes you feel any better, I didn't even bring my wand."

He turned out his pockets, just to prove his point.

Remus drew in a sharp breath. "What? Your—Christ, Sirius. What if you—"

It was Sirius's turn to grimace. "My wand has a bit of a preference for, er, darker things. I didn't want to accidentally muck anything up. There's quite a lot of hexes we have to get through."

"And you're sure you can…?" Remus made a dramatic hand gesture that was supposedly meant to imitate Sirius's wandless magic.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "We've been over the hexes about a thousand times, Remus. I'm sure I've got it right."

That, at least, was only a slight exaggeration. They'd been practicing the sequence of the hexes they planned on placing on the Ravenclaw roof for nearly two whole weeks. Twenty-six hexes in total, thirteen done by Remus, thirteen by Sirius, in an alternating pattern, with increased severity and duration of effectiveness as they progressed. They'd found, in a book Sirius had borrowed from McGonagall's personal library for his essay on curses and Dark Magic, that each witch or wizard had their own magical signature. It was the personal flair that usually gave curse-breakers a hard time, when it came to undoing certain hexes or jinxes, rather than the spell itself. The more personality each spell had, the harder it was to break.

They'd figured, then, if they alternated the hexes and performed a sequential locking spell to seal it, no one would really go through the effort of undoing the spells, even a rather determined Ravenclaw. Even if they tried, they'd have to undo each spell in the order that Sirius and Remus performed them, counteract alternating patterns of Remus's and Sirius's magical signatures, all the while dealing with effects of each hex, set to go off with even the slightest bit of tampering.

All in all, it was all rather clever. Sirius and Remus were quite proud of themselves.

Remus leaned around the corner of the alcove, checking to see if the hallway was still clear. He turned back to Sirius. "What time is it?"

Sirius waved his hand and cast a Timus. It was ten minutes to three in the afternoon.

As far as plans go, this particular one was not without its flaws. For one, they'd all come to the conclusion that it was almost inevitable that they'd get caught. Peter, despite his constant lessons with James whenever the Quidditch pitch was open, was still a bit unsteady on a broom and had absolutely refused to fly the flag up with James at night. When James had complained to Sirius about leaving him for Remus, Sirius had merely handed the parchment containing his half of the twenty-six hexes to Peter. Peter had immediately tried the first one—the Tail-Growing hex. He'd somehow managed to fire the hex directly at the reflective surface of the dorm window, and it'd immediately backfired, and Peter had spent the rest of the day stuffing a long, bushy horse's tail into the back of his trousers.

"Hooch locks the broom cupboard at night anyways," James had grumbled, in surrender. "Stealing brooms in broad daylight it is."

"If we're resigned to getting caught," Remus had said, after Peter eventually stopped whining about his temporary tail, "we just have to make sure that we don't get caught until after we get the job done."

Which meant, of course, that they had to get the timing just right.

At three in the afternoon, precisely, Sirius and Remus would break into Ravenclaw tower by walking through the front door. After much debate between Sirius and Remus—and a brief consultation from one James Potter—it was determined that the front door was both the most effective and the least-suspicious method of breaking into Ravenclaw tower. Once they'd solved the riddle, Sirius and Remus would make their way up to the roof, perform and layer their hexes, lock all the windows, then make their way back through Ravenclaw tower, in order to meet James and Peter in the Great Hall. If luck was on their side, Remus and Sirius wouldn't be caught at all, but had readily agreed to jump in and take an equal share in the blame when McGonagall ultimately caught James and Peter.

While Remus and Sirius secured Ravenclaw tower against any possible retaliation, Peter and James would carry the flag down to the Quidditch pitch and steal a couple of brooms. Then, at a quarter past three, they'd fly the flag up to the top of Gryffindor tower, mount it, and then James would perform the final binding charms to get the flag to integrate with the castle. Sirius and James had been up late the night before, practicing the wand movements and the hybrid Latin over and over and over, until James could finally pronounce Sempiternum without stumbling over the unfamiliar syllables.

On a completely unrelated side note, Sirius's essay for Ancient Runes was now stuck to the ceiling above James's bed with one hell of a permanence charm. As Sirius figured it, future generations would thank him for his brilliance in Ancient Runes and would build shrines in his honour.

Sirius turned to Remus and gave him one last once over. They were only going to have one shot at this, after all. Remus's Ravenclaw robes were perfect, if he did say so himself, but he was still very much… Remus. Sirius twirled his fingers, running over a few possibilities in his head for a second, before he flicked them at Remus.

Remus's hair turned black.

"Oi! What did you—" Remus looked down at himself, trying to figure out what was different. Finding nothing, his hands went to his hair. Remus tugged on a curl, then pulled it down in front of his eyes.

Sirius snorted a laugh at Remus's indignant glare. "You look like Jamie's Welsh cousin."

In retaliation, Remus drew his wand and flicked it at Sirius. A curtain of blonde hair fell into his face. Sirius yelped.

"You look like Marlene," Remus said, rather proud of himself.

Sirius ruffled his hair for good measure. "I'm way prettier than Marlene and you know it."

"I'll be sure to tell her you said that. She'll probably punch you in the face."

Sirius grimaced. "Ugh, you're right. Best not mention it to her." He gave Remus another once-over. "We are passable Ravenclaws, aren't we? Well, as much as can be done without Polyjuice, right?"

Remus tugged at the edges of his black curls and frowned. "Sirius, do you think you could, er…?"

Remus made a vague gesture to his face.

Sirius blinked, genuinely confused. "What, your eyes? I suppose I could spell them darker, like James's, but I'm not sure how it'd affect your vision, and really, best not risk it with all the—"

"No, Merlin." Remus scrubbed a hand over his face and Sirius couldn't quite tell if he was frustrated or embarrassed. "My scars, Sirius. Can you do anything to hide my scars?"

Sirius frowned and slowly shook his head. "Not without a complicated Disillusionment spell. I'd need a wand and… a great deal of practice." He drew in a breath and forced a smile. "It doesn't matter anyway. We'll be in and out of the common room so quick that those poor sods will hardly have time to look up from their books. No one will recognise you."

"I'm rather recognisable," Remus muttered, darkly.

"Yes, but compared to the alluring written word, you're just another face in the crowd to a Ravenclaw," Sirius said. "Muss your hair up a bit and you'll be fine. I promise."

Remus sighed, rolled his eyes to show Sirius that he didn't believe him, but mussed up his hair all the same. His curls went out in every direction, and he tugged a few down to fall over his face.

Once the corridor is clear, Remus and Sirius make their way to the base of the tower. There was a large, ornate door, painted a dark navy. About three-quarters of the way up, there was an ancient, brass knocker, shaped rather like a battle horn.

"Do we just… knock?" Sirius asked.

"No, there's a—" Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Didn't you read that book I gave you on Rowena Ravenclaw?"

"Ah. Nope. I had to finish Evans's book. There was a revolution. People were dying, Remus."

The corner of Remus's lip twitched up in a half-smile, so Sirius knew he wasn't too bothered by it. "There's a riddle," Remus said, nodding to the door. "It changes every day. You answer it correctly and the door opens."

"Well, that seems like a rather ineffective method of security."

"As opposed to a generic password that hasn't changed since the first day of term?" Remus deadpanned.

Sirius chose to ignore that. "Ravenclaws aren't the only intelligent people in the castle, you know."

"I certainly hope not, or this plan is fucked," Remus muttered. "We've got about four minutes until three. Knock, Sirius."

Sirius knocked.

The battle horn yawned, then, in a deep voice, bellowed, "What is greater than God, and more evil than the devil? The poor have it, the rich want for it, and if you drink it, you'll face judgment yourself."

Sirius coughed, nervously, his heart-rate picking up. "That's rather… foreboding."

"And rather poetic. If it's poetic, it's subjective, and if it's subjective, it could literally be anything, so, Christ." Remus bit his thumbnail and stared at the ground.

"'More evil than the devil,'" Sirius quoted. "Is my mother an acceptable answer?"

They stared at the door for a moment, but nothing happened.

"Apparently not," Remus said. "Let's focus on the second bit. What would kill you if you drink it? There's poison, obviously, but—"

"What the hell is greater than God?" Sirius muttered. Sirius didn't particularly like the whole concept of God to begin with. He never had. Some big, omniscient being in the sky, moving the hands of destiny and fate at his very whim, regardless of the lives of the people he supposedly loves?

If Sirius had any say in it whatsoever, God didn't fucking deserve the universe he created.

Sirius felt he had a right to have an opinion on that. Silas, the Slightly Psychic Pirating Parrot told him he'd kill God, after all, right? How'd that go again? Sirius started repeating the limerick in his head, straining to remember the exact wording.

Sirius Black, how tragically flawed

Thought he might be the man to kill God

Now Nothing's dictating—

Sirius's eyes went wide. "No way it's that easy."

Remus was still mumbling, mostly to himself, something about rich and poor and how maybe it's richer and poorer, or some kind of vow. He ignored Sirius completely.

"Nothing," Sirius said to the brass knocker. "Nothing is greater than God or more evil than the devil."

The door clicked open.

Remus's eyes snapped to him, a fair bit of wonder and confusion swirling in his expression. "How did you—"

Sirius had already started up the stairs. "I remembered something a pigeon told me. Now, hush. We can't disturb the bookworms."

The Ravenclaw common room, as it turned out, was rather similar to the Gryffindor one, except for the fact that there were book cases lining every wall and everything was blue. Everything else was the same: hearth, rug, random bits of armour. The sofas were even in the same position in the centre of the room.

It was all a bit… weird.

As Sirius predicted, absolutely none of the seven other people in the common room looked up from their books when he and Remus entered.

"Think it's the same staircase?" Remus whispered, nodding to what would be the boys' staircase in Gryffindor tower.

"That'd be my best guess," Sirius replied.

They made their way up the stairs to the left and, thankfully, they neither ran into any Ravenclaws nor went sliding back down to the common room in any sort of dramatic fashion. Sirius shoved open the door to the first years' dorm room and stopped. Remus nearly ran into him from behind, but pulled up at the last second.

"Woah," Remus whispered, his breath ghosting the back of Sirius's neck.

There were sixteen beds in the room, and it was, understandably, vastly larger than the room that the four Gryffindor first years shared. The dorm was empty, save for one bed in the far corner, where a Ravenclaw first year—Sirius thought his name was Micah, or something—was snoring with a book open across his face.

"Fabian told me we were the smallest Gryffindor class in three generations," Sirius stage whispered. "Guess this is where the rest of the first years were sorted."

"Glad I wasn't one of them," Remus muttered.

Me too, Sirius thought, emphatically, but he was no where near brave enough to say that out loud. Instead, he gestured towards the window and Remus followed him, careful not to wake Micah-Or-Something.

The one thing, in all their weeks of planning, they hadn't counted on was the wind. In hindsight, given that they were on the Scottish moors and it was almost November, the wind very much should have been a factor.

"Christ," Remus swore, above the roar of the wind. He clutched his robes tight against his chest, making sure they didn't just fly away. "This might be a problem."

"As long as we keep our balance, we'll be fine." Sirius edged up the slanted roof, keeping one hand out for balance as he cast a protection charm on himself and Remus, in order that the hexes they were about to put on the roof don't affect them.

"James and Pete—"

"They'll be fine too," Sirius said, but he wasn't too sure if he was trying to convince Remus or himself. James, he knew, would most likely be fine. He was—though Sirius would never tell him—rather exceptional on a broom. Nonetheless, with Peter's less than adequate flying skills plus the added weight and encumbrance of the flag, the wind may very well cause them some problems.

Remus nodded, his wild black hair whipping about in every possible direction. "Alright. Lock all the windows first, except the one we came through. I'll start with the hexes."

Sirius wiggled his fingers and shot a Colloportus, followed by his own wandless locking spell at the nearest window, then proceeded to the next one. Remus finished up the first hex—they'd agreed that a sliding hex, that made the roof too slick to stand on, would be best as their first line of defence—and motioned for Sirius to start on the next hex, the Forget Me Not, which wipes the victim's short term memory.

And so it went: they alternated the hexes, all the while careful to maintain their balance. When Remus did his portion of the hexes, Sirius moved from one window to the next, making sure they were all soundly locked and shut, and that no Ravenclaw would be able to break the charm.

All was going according to plan, until Sirius was in the middle of his ninth hex—a Gravity hex, that makes the victim's shoes weigh a couple hundred pounds, therefore significantly decreasing the chances of levitation or effectively flying on a broom—when Remus shouted over the roar of the wind, "Fuck, Sirius, look!"

Sirius turned, his eyes searching the sky around Gryffindor tower, and, sure enough, there were James and Peter. James flew in front, hefting most of the canvas. Peter was a couple of meters behind and below, holding the long, wooden pole that they'd stolen from Hagrid last week. They were teetering dangerously, caught in the wind, with Peter being thrown about like he was nothing more than a rogue feather. The only reason the two of them and the flag were still airborne was because James Potter was a damn steady flier.

But even the best flier in the world couldn't support the weight of that flag and another deadweight on a broom for long.

"Fuck," Sirius shouted. He turned to Remus, shoving his stupid blonde hair out of his face as he did. "Can you cast a shield charm?"

"I know the spell," Remus replied, looking a little uncertain. "But I don't think I can from this far away."

"We've got to stabilise them, or they'll both go down," Sirius forced himself to say, and fucking Salazar, it was true. Sirius was starting to panic. "Just… point your wand at Peter and cast the spell. Try to block the wind. I'll switch with you in a second."

Remus turned his back to Sirius and did as instructed. The Protego worked, to a degree, and Peter's flight pattern evened out a little, but he was still wobbling quite a bit. Remus knit his brow in concentration, then snapped over his shoulder, "Get on with it, Sirius! I'm not sure I can hold this for long!"

Sirius finished off the Gravity hex, then locked the last two windows, save for their escape window. He went to stand beside Remus, his hands raised and his magic lacing all the way up his arms. He could make out the sweat on Remus's brow, as Remus looked at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Ready?" Remus asked.

Sirius squared his shoulders and nodded, his eyes now locked on Peter.

"Now!" Remus shouted.

A heartbeat later, Sirius shouted, "Protego!"

Peter swayed a little bit and they could hear the muffled sounds from James's shout, but they stayed in the air.

Behind him, Sirius heard Remus cast the next hex, as quick as he possibly could without messing up the spell. Then, he was standing by Sirius's side again.

They alternated between stabilising James and Peter and finishing up the hexes once, twice, three times, and—

"They're at the top!" Remus shouted, and, sure enough, James hovered, holding tight to the canvas, as Peter mounted the base of the pole onto the top of the tower.

Sirius whooped in triumph, as he finished off his second to last hex.

Then, from far, far below: "POTTER GET DOWN HERE AT ONCE!"

Sirius and Remus exchanged a look, then carefully peered over the edge of the roof. They could just make out McGonagall, standing in the courtyard with her wand to her throat. A crowd of shouting and clapping students began to gather around her.

Behind them, someone pounded on a window. Sirius spun around, only to meet the eyes of a seventh year Ravenclaw, whose face and palm were pressed flat against the glass as he shouted at them. The Ravenclaw turned, and shouted back towards the dorm, only to be joined by two more boys. They each took a turn pointing their wands at the window.

Remus glanced over his shoulder. "Christ, Sirius, lock the last window!"

"What?! But how will we—"

"Just do it!"

Right.

Sirius made his way down the roof, as carefully and quickly as possible, back to the window that led to the first year boys' dorm. Each window he passed on the way, he saw Ravenclaws desperately trying to break glass and get onto the roof, all of them either shouting at Sirius or at each other.

The last window in sight, Sirius shouted a final, "Colloportus," just as poor Micah-Or-Something made a break for the window. Micah-Or-Something crashed into the window face-first and crumpled to the ground. Sirius grimaced, but waved his hand for the final lock all the same.

"I think James has just about finished the binding charm!" Remus shouted, as Sirius hauled himself back to the top of the roof. The Ravenclaws continued to pound and crash into every available window, but to no avail.

Sirius Black was the goddamn master of locking charms.

"Stabilise Peter as I finish the last hex," Remus said, and Sirius obeyed.

Less than a minute later, he switched with Sirius for the last time, and Sirius cast a final Blinding hex on the roof.

"How the hell do we get down from here?"

Remus's face twisted into something that would otherwise be considered apologetic, but there was still that wonderful gleam of mischief in his eyes that didn't quite complete the look. "Can you touch Peter?"

"What?" Because, what, in the name of Merlin, could that possibly have to do with—

Oh.

"You want to—" Sirius gestured wildly in the general direction of James and Peter.

"Yes or no, Sirius."

Well, that was the question, then, wasn't it? He could touch Peter. Technically. Far more so than James, certainly, but it still wasn't entirely comfortable. Peter might be pure-blood, but he was nowhere near pure-blood in the same way or with the same pedigree as the Blacks or the Prewetts or even the McKinnons.

Now was not the time to sweat the details. He could handle it for the minute it took to get to the ground. "Yes."

Remus smirked, then pointed his wand at Sirius's throat. "Sonoros."

Sirius coughed, surprised by the weird tingling sensation, and, Merlin, that was a lot louder than he'd expected. He glared at Remus, but waved his hands, trying to catch their attention. "Oi, Jamie! Come give us a lift, would you?"

"POTTER! BLACK!" roared McGonagall.

James and Peter, however, ignored her and sailed over to Ravenclaw tower. They were far more steady now that there was not a flag balanced between them, though Peter still dangerously overcompensated whenever there was a burst of wind.

"Everything all right?" James said, catching his foot on the edge of the roof. Peter hovered midair, a pace or two behind, clutching the handle of his broom for all he's worth.

"We're fine," Sirius said, having to shout a bit to be heard over the roar of the wind and the increasingly loud shouts from the crowd down below. "The Ravenclaws just got a bit antsy and I had to cut off our escape."

He gestured behind him, at the window. At least fifteen students now crowded it, each alternatively trying unlocking spells and pounding on the glass in frustration.

"Flag set up all right?" Remus asked. They could see the flag from here: enormous, proud, and its brilliant colours catching in the afternoon sun.

"It'll stand for a thousand years," James declared, puffing his chest out.

"POTTER, THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING!"

"She sounds angry," Peter said, his voice barely carrying over the wind and the roar of the crowd down below. Peter leaned over to glance at the Ravenclaws through the locked windows. "They look angry."

Sirius waved him off. "I have absolutely no idea why they should be angry," he said with a smirk. "Come on, lads. Let's go see what Minnie's so upset about."

James barked a laugh. "I dare you to call her that to her face."

"Merlin," grumbled Remus, climbing onto the broom behind James and wrapping his arms around James's waist. "If he did that, McGonagall would have him in detention for the rest of his life."

Sirius stuck his tongue out. "At least I'd beat the Prewetts' record."

"You're on track to do that by the end of the year."

Sirius shrugged. "Fair point."

As carefully as he could, Sirius climbed onto the broom behind Peter, having to grab onto Peter's shoulders to steady them after a particularly strong gust of wind. Remus shot him an apologetic look, and, if he's honest, as they took off, Sirius found himself wishing things had gone according to plan and he and Remus were able to escape the way they'd come.

He was grateful, of course, that Remus had enough forethought to offer to ride with James for Sirius's sake, but it certainly wasn't ideal. Peter really was not that good of a flier, and with the added weight of another person, he kept swaying through the air and randomly plummeting a few feet at a time. Sirius found himself plastered to Peter's back for fear of his life, and Merlin. It was nowhere near as excruciating as touching Lily or Remus, or even James, for an extended amount of time, but still. It didn't not hurt, touching Peter. It felt like… an itch buried deep beneath his skin, right on the precipice of pain. It was the horrible feeling that he should be in pain, but the sensation hadn't quite boiled up to the surface just yet. It was… nauseating.

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut and waited for it to be over.

Madam Hooch and the Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain met the four boys halfway. They flanked to the left and right of James and Peter, escorting the four of them back to the ground. Peter and Sirius landed hard, and Sirius staggered a bit on the dismount, still unsteady from the jerky flight and the almost-pain coursing through his veins. A second later, when James and Remus landed next to them, Fabian and Gideon Prewett rushed forward, applauding, completely ignoring the stone glare of Professor McGonagall.

"A truly remarkable feat," Fabian said.

"Sabotage and glory, all rolled into one," Gideon echoed. "Brilliant."

Fabian slung his arm across Sirius's shoulders. Sirius tensed a little, but didn't shake him off. It didn't hurt, even a little. Fabian tugged on a string of Sirius's hair. "Mm. Not quite sure I like this, Black. You look a little too much like your cousin."

Sirius pulled a face, then immediately waved his hand above his head, eradicating the horrific blonde for good. He flicked his fingers at Remus, too, for good measure, just as James began to tease him.

"That's enough!" McGonagall snapped and, Merlin, Sirius had almost forgotten about her. McGonagall's eyes zeroed in on him. "Mr. Black, I want an explanation right now."

Sirius shoved Fabian aside and took a step forward, glaring up at McGonagall. He opened his mouth, ready to shout the indignity of her prejudice, of her assumption that he was to blame for everything just because of his name—

James nudged Sirius to the side and smiled up at McGonagall. "Oi, Professor, I don't think it's fair for Sirius to get all the credit. Didn't you see me and Pete fly that flag up there? And, speaking of— While I have you and Madam Hooch here, I'd like to formally submit my name for candidacy on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I was thinking maybe as a Chaser, but I wouldn't be opposed to—"

Remus let out an exasperated sigh and yanked James back by the collar of his shirt. "He means that this was all four of us, Professor. We planned it together, and we all worked together to execute the plan."

Fabian put his hands over his eyes, mimicking binoculars pointed up at Gryffindor tower. "And what an ingenious plan it was!" He swivelled over to Ravenclaw tower, then back to Gryffindor. "Merlin, you really did it, didn't you? I've been saying someone should do something about that for years, haven't I, Gid?"

Gideon tossed a wink at Sirius. "He really has."

McGonagall pushed her glasses back up her nose. "You two—" She pointed a long finger at Fabian and Gideon. "You will get this crowd to clear out in the next five minutes, unless you want me to hold you down and forcibly remove those ridiculous beards from your faces."

Gideon smirked. "Kinky, Professor."

"Mm. How delectably tempting," Fabian echoed, stroking his beard for good measure.

"Enough!" McGonagall snapped, raising her wand. Fabian and Gideon simultaneously grabbed their faces to protect their precious pink beards and began dispersing the crowd. McGonagall turned to Madam Hooch. "Rolanda, would you be so kind as to fly up to Gryffindor tower and take down that flag?"

"Yeah, good fucking luck with that," Sirius muttered. James grinned wickedly.

Gesturing to the Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain, Madam Hooch and her took off.

"As for the four of you," McGonagall said, her voice laced with just enough contempt that it gave Sirius vivid flashbacks of his mother. McGonagall's stone-cold glare tracking over James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter. "Report to my office. Now."

"Are we going to get expelled?" Peter whispered as they waited for McGonagall. He wiggled nervously in his seat between James and Remus.

There were only three chairs on the students' side of McGonagall's great mahogany desk, so Sirius had taken to pacing next to Remus not long after they'd walked in. He'd thought about just walking around the desk and sitting in McGonagall's chair, just to spite her for her obvious hatred of him, but he didn't think he could risk pissing her off more. She'd just send another letter home and it'd be another nail in his coffin come Christmas.

"No, we're not going to get expelled," Remus said, with a sigh. "We'll probably only get a telling off and a detention. No one got hurt."

Peter slumped further down in his chair. "I don't see why I should get detention," he mumbled. "I was hardly involved."

Sirius turned on his heel, his magic flaring to life between his fingers, because there was no fucking way—

Remus held up a hand to stop Sirius and glared at Peter. "You spent weeks with James, figuring out Madam Hooch's schedule, in order to steal a broom. You succeeded in stealing a broom. You flew the flag up to the top of Gryffindor tower. You were just as involved as the rest of us."

"Yes, but I—"

"For fuck's sake, Pete," James moaned. "We all knew we were going to get caught. You can't chicken out before McGonagall properly recognises us for our genius." He leaned forward, to wink at Sirius. "Besides. She's Gryffindor, when it comes down to it. She'll be fucking proud."

Sirius had his doubts about that. McGonagall seemed determined to hate him and anything involving him.

McGonagall flung open the door and stormed in, a whirl of burgundy robes and annoyance. She walked around the four boys, glaring at Sirius as she did so, then planted both her hands on her desk.

"Will one of you please explain to me exactly what happened this afternoon and why it involved stolen brooms and locking every window in Ravenclaw tower?"

The four boys exchanged looks: a silent swap of raised eyebrows and jerked nods and vague hand gestures. Then, through what Sirius would like to call collective decision and diplomatic process (though it probably had a great deal more with betting against Sirius's own temper), it was unanimously decided that James was probably the best spokesperson. Not because he's the most tactful, certainly—that'd be Remus, hands down—but because James Potter exuded a sort of confidence that could be paralleled by absolutely nobody.

"Ravenclaw tower was taller than Gryffindor tower." James flashed McGonagall his most winning smile. "So we fixed it."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Madam Hooch burst through the door, completely out of breath. Her hair was all out of sorts, presumably from the wind, and she was still holding her broom.

"Ah, Rolanda," McGonagall said, her voice softening while addressing another member of the staff. "I trust you were able to remove the flag from—"

"Well, actually, Minerva—" Madam Hooch paused, seeming to realise suddenly that the four boys were in the room. She straightened up a little, her gaze flicking from Sirius to James, then back to McGonagall. "It seems that the flag is rather… stuck."

"HA!" James shouted, pumping his fist in the air.

"You are on very thin ice, Potter. Do be careful," McGonagall snapped, but no one in their right mind would ever call James Potter careful. That wicked gleam never left his eye. McGonagall addressed Madam Hooch again: "What about the windows in Ravenclaw tower?"

"Also rather stuck," Madam Hooch said.

McGonagall fixed her glare on Sirius. "I suppose that's your doing, then?"

Sirius had a sudden, suicidal urge to stick his tongue out at her. Miraculously, he refrained, and instead gave her a wild smirk, which he figured was answer enough.

McGonagall was not amused. "When we are done here, Black, I expect you to march back to Ravenclaw tower and open every single window. Am I understood?"

Sirius opened his mouth but—

"Actually, Professor," Remus said, raising his pointer finger. "The locking spell can't be undone by the person who cast it."

That was utter and complete bullshit, of course, but it made Sirius's heart fucking soar.

"Then you will undo the spell, Lupin," McGonagall said, her voice harsh, with an almost unnatural subterranean bite to it.

Remus put on his most sincere face: eyebrows pinched together, chin tucked in just a bit, to get the full effect of his enormously endearing puppy-eyes. "I'm afraid I don't know how to undo the locks, Professor."

As far as Sirius was concerned, Remus was the only one who knew how to undo the locks.

McGonagall glared at Remus for a long moment, but the puppy-eyes held, and she turned towards the rest of them. After a moment, her pale, blue eyes landed on Sirius. "I will not have a group of…of marauders running around this castle. You will—"

"Minerva," Hooch said, raising a her index finger. "There were names, on the flag. These four and—"

Oh, shit. Sirius bit his thumb, nervously, leaning over to exchange a rather panicked look with James. They weren't supposed to get the girls in trouble.

"—Lily Evans, Marlene McKinnon, and Dorcas Meadows," Hooch finished.

McGonagall sighed and pushed her glasses back up her nose. "Very well. Rolanda, please bring the girls into my office and—"

James jumped to his feet, startling everyone in the room. Peter nearly leapt out of his skin.

"They weren't involved, Professor," James said.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow, a perfect arch above the rims of her glasses. "Oh?"

"Yep," James said, tossing a pointed look at Sirius. Clearly, bullshitting a professor was not James's forte. "We forced them to help. Told them the flag was for a special project… for Hagrid. Sirius did most of the spellwork on the flag, anyways. Lily, Marlene, and Dee just painted."

"That's right," Sirius said, keeping his voice steady, with just enough dramatic flair mixed in to make it believable. "This was strictly a… a Marauder operation. The flag and the whole Ravenclaw tower thing. Jamie, me, Pete, and Remus. Just us Marauders, Professor."

A second later, Remus and Peter echoed his story, though Peter needed a nudge in the ribs from Remus before doing so.

McGonagall looked so very done, it almost made Sirius laugh. Her gaze flicked to Madam Hooch. "Rolanda, would you please see if Professor Flitwick is available? See if he can't get that flag down and restore Ravenclaw tower to its former state."

Madam Hooch nodded and left the room, tucking her broom under her arm on her way out.

Sirius caught Remus's eye, just as Remus smirked at him and winked. Flitwick could try, but they'd thought of absolutely everything. And, Merlin, there was that gleam again, in Remus's eyes. McGonagall couldn't see it, and if she could, she'd be incapable of appreciating it. It was wild and mischievous and so beautifully triumphant and it made Sirius's insides burst with a pride he'd never known before, because that look on Remus's face… It meant they'd won.

The four of them—the Marauders—were utterly indestructible.

McGonagall couldn't do a damn thing about it.

Sirius was pretty sure, if he wanted to, he could grow wings and fucking fly.

"As for the four of you," McGonagall said, placing both her palms flat on her desk and leaning forward. "Detention. Two weeks, with Filch. Black, you will finish your previous detention sentence with me before you begin your time with Filch."

Sirius had resigned himself long before they'd gotten caught that he'd be in detention for the foreseeable future, especially if McGonagall had anything to say about it. All things considered, especially given what had happened the last time he'd been in this office, Sirius wasn't too bothered by a few weeks' detention. At least he'd have company, this time.

"I'm taking two hundred points from Gryffindor."

None of the four boys so much as blinked at that.

McGonagall didn't seem to appreciate their apathy too much. She narrowed her eyes."You will not serve detention tomorrow night, but the four of you are also banned from the Halloween Feast. Food will be brought to you in your dormitory and you are not to leave Gryffindor tower for the duration of the night."

James let out a noise of distress, but otherwise, he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

McGonagall went on, unperturbed: "The feast is a reward for students on their performance, halfway through the term. Your recent behaviour and general predisposition towards mayhem—" Here, she paused to glare at Sirius. "—does not warrant an invitation to such a feast. Am I understood?"

Sirius just nodded, as James, Peter, and Remus all muttered varying degrees of, "Yes, ma'am."

"Good." McGonagall sat down, picking up the nearest parchment and pretending to read it. "You may go."

Sirius was almost out the door, when Peter said, "You're not going to write our parents, Professor?"

If James and Remus hadn't been in the way, Sirius more than likely would have punched Peter in the face. They were almost free.

Sirius's imaginary wings collapsed in on themselves and bile rose in his throat. Remus shot him a look, his eyes almost as terrified as Sirius felt. Remus turned on his heel, his mouth open, ready to protest.

McGonagall removed her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose, her eyes falling shut for a long, excruciating moment. Then: "There'll be no need of that, Pettigrew. Although I expect behaviour of this nature to cease immediately, I do not find it necessary to inform your parents at this point."

Thank fucking Merlin. Sirius let out a long breath, then spun on his heel, absolutely refusing to let the momentary panic ruin his mood.

"Well, lads," James said, as soon as they made their way down the twisting staircases. "The first successful Marauder operation is in the books."

"The first of many!" Sirius proclaimed, pumping his fist in the air.

"The first of many!" James echoed. "So, I was thinking…"

But Sirius was no longer paying attention. He was staring at Remus again, and holy mother of—

Sirius would never get over that look on Remus's face. His tiny little smirk, and how it tugged at the scar on the corner of Remus's lip. The amber in his eyes, dancing like rays of sunlight through firewhisky. That look reverberated down to Sirius's very soul: it was fire and freedom, it was an explosion in the depth of space that spawned life, the universe, and every moment actually worth living.

Sirius swore, on anything and everything holy left in the world, that he'd spend the rest of his life trying to put that look on Remus Lupin's face.

Remus winked, when he caught Sirius staring. He leaned in close, his lips mere centimetres from Sirius's ear.

"We fucking did it," Remus whispered.

OCTOBER 31, 1971

"What, in Merlin's name, are we supposed to do, locked up in this tower, when everyone else is at the feast?" James moaned dramatically, throwing his arm over his eyes. He was laying on the couch in the common room, his feet propped up on the arm rest and his tie hanging loose around his neck.

"Do you think we're banned from the feast forever, or just for this year?" Peter asked, a note of fear in his voice. He sat on an ottoman, engaged in a losing battle of Exploding Snap with Remus.

Remus and Sirius were carefully situated on the opposite couch: Remus, with his feet squarely on the ground, and Sirius, with his legs securely wrapped up, mermaid style, in a duvet stolen from Peter's bed, sat with his feet resting in Remus's lap. Every few minutes, he'd pull them back again, when the creeping pain became too much. He'd hug his knees to his chest for a few minutes, feign a stretch, then put his feet right back in Remus's lap. It was comforting. Remus seemed to have worked out the pattern and went along with it without question.

Sirius scoffed at Peter's comment, and subtly gestured to the card Remus should play next. Remus tossed the card down on the floor between him and Peter, and a second later, Peter's cards exploded in his face.

"I don't particularly care if they do ban us," Sirius said. "I see this as an absolute win. House elves bring us our food and I don't have to look at Snivellus's ugly face while I eat my dinner. Plus, the whole school is in awe of us."

This wasn't quite true, of course, but even most of the Slytherins had looked adequately impressed when Dumbledore announced at breakfast that he'd put in for a footnote to be added to Hogwarts: A History. "Gryffindor tower is the tallest of the dormitory towers, reaching a staggering height of sixty-four-point-seven-three meters, a height only surpassed by the Astronomy Tower," Dumbledore had read from a large, official-looking parchment. "The previous record, held by Ravenclaw tower since Hogwarts's completion in 992 A.D., stood at precisely sixty-four-point-six-two meters. This addition to Gryffindor tower was completed by Messrs. Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black, and James Potter, on 30 October, 1971, and authenticated by Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, on 31 October, 1971."

The Gryffindor table, naturally, had exploded in exuberant cheers. Even McGonagall had the decency to look moderately pleased, though certainly still perplexed as to how they'd actually pulled it off. A few of the seventh year Ravenclaws hadn't been particularly thrilled by the announcement, and Sirius could guess why, after whispers of a failed, late-night attempt to rectify the situation had ended up with two seventh year Ravenclaws flying up on stolen brooms and subsequently losing their short term memories. Apparently, they hadn't even been able to get through the second hex, nor had anyone, including Flitwick, been able to undo the locking charms on the windows.

"Speaking of," Remus said, and Sirius felt his stomach growl even through the duvet, "where are the house elves? The feast must have started at least an hour ago."

As if on cue, a whole spread of food appeared on the common room table. Little tables popped up out of nowhere, shoving aside other furniture, and holding an immense spread of everything from sheppard's pie, to beef Wellington, to pumpkin juice, and a wide assortment of different puddings, including a lemon poundcake. (It was Sirius's favourite. He'd moaned excessively, the first time he'd had it, and had immediately proclaimed the lemon poundcake as definitive proof in the existence of a higher power. It was probably only a slight exaggeration.)

No one said a word. Four sets of eyes stared at the feast in front of them in amazement.

Sirius pulled his legs from Remus's lap, then stood, tossing the duvet somewhere in Peter's direction. Sirius walked over to the spread and leaned over it, sticking his finger in a bowl of mashed potatoes. He stuck his finger in his mouth.

"That's… a lot of food," Sirius said.

"I thought we were in trouble," James muttered.

"Maybe the house elves got confused?" Remus offered, already reaching for a slice of chocolate cake.

"Doesn't matter," Peter managed, over a mouthful of sheppard's pie. Somehow, in the past minute or so, Peter had filled a plate and was already several forkfuls into his meal. "There's food."

Just then, there was a crash, followed by a loud bang, and a resounding cheer. Sirius, Remus, and James jumped in surprise. Peter choked on his fork.

Fabian and Gideon burst through the portrait hole, arm in arm. Both of them had their ties wrapped around their heads and tiny braids in their fuchsia beards. They were followed by, well… all of Gryffindor.

"My, my," Fabian said, taking in the food and the four boys. "Seems our very own Marauders have started without us. Gideon, if you please."

Gideon smirked and pointed his wand up the stairs leading to the boys' dormitory. He bit his tongue, in concentration. "Accio butterbeer!"

A second later, a large case came flying down the stairs. It landed with a clink at the Prewetts's feet, then immediately opened. Bottles flew out of the case by the dozen, guided by Gideon's wand, until each person in the overcrowded common room had one in their hands.

"Now," Gideon said, "we only have enough of these for one each, okay? I'm looking at you, Longbottom!"

Frank Longbottom had already drained half his bottle. He paused mid-gulp. The twins burst out laughing.

"Our Frankie," cooed Fabian. "All grown up and guzzling booze."

Frank flipped two fingers up at them. The twins blew kisses back.

"To the Marauders!" Fabian shouted, raising his bottle.

"The bravest Marauders!" Gideon echoed.

"The greatest of their generation!"

"The kings of Gryffindor!"

"Let their names shine on in infamy!" Gideon clinked his bottle with his brother's. "To the immortal Marauders, Lupin, Pettigrew, Black, and Potter!"

"The Marauders!" the crowd echoed, and followed it with a loud cheer.

James looked positively giddy, as the crowd broke apart to dig into the feast. Sirius butted to the front of the line, riding the glory, then grabbed a plate and slipped off to a corner next to a small dessert table with Remus.

"How do they know that name? Isn't that what McGonagall called us?" Remus whispered to Sirius, as he took a cautious sip of his butterbeer. He seemed to like it, and immediately took another sip.

Sirius snorted a laugh. "James went around the Dining Hall this morning while you were still sleeping. He's insisted that everyone call us that from now on. He was quite proud of it. It was adorable."

"So—" Remus cut off, then glanced at his bottle. He downed the rest of it in one go. "Just to be clear, Fabian and Gideon… They're making fun of us."

"Without a doubt," Sirius laughed. "But they mean well. We're still the ones with a footnote in our very own history."

Remus smirked. "I can see the jealousy radiating off of them."

"Mm, no, I think that's coming from the pink beards."

Remus chuckled, as he carefully reached around Sirius for another piece of chocolate cake. "Have they convinced you to join their cult yet?"

"Their what now?!"

Remus gestured to Fabian and Gideon with his fork. "They've started a religion, to make sure McGonagall can't make them get rid of those beards."

"Well, yes, I knew that, but—"

"They've amassed followers."

"They've…" Sirius followed Remus's gaze, and, sure, he'd noticed a few of the Prewetts's friends had also sprouted colourful beards recently—the orange beard was particularly fetching on Emmeline Vance—but, Merlin, they wouldn't—

Fabian and Gideon stood at the centre of a group of Gryffindors, including none other than Marlene McKinnon, all of their faces sporting brightly coloured—and now braided—beards.

A burst of laughter bubbled up in his gut and Sirius leaned on the dessert table for support. "Fuck, how'd I miss that? Marlene—"

Remus smiled around his fork. "I have absolutely no idea."

"It's green!" Sirius said, gesturing to Marlene's beard. "When did she get that?!"

"Last week, I think?" Remus replied. "Fabian's been trying to get you to notice for ages. I think you're right, by the way. He definitely has a crush on you."

Sirius smirked. "Mm, 'course he does. I'm fucking gorgeous." When Remus opened his mouth to reply, Sirius waved a threatening finger in his face. "But I'm not going to join his cult."

Remus feigned sympathy. "Aw, but it'll break his heart."

"Shut up, you." Sirius stuck his tongue out. Remus flicked a bit of chocolate cake at Sirius. "Gah! Gross!"

Sirius scooped up a glop of potatoes with his first two fingers. He aimed right for Remus's face, when—

"Oi, Black, get over here!" Lily Evans shouted, her voice echoing over the crowd.

Sirius and Remus turned, their impromptu food-fight forgotten.

It took Sirius a second to piece together what exactly was happening. James stood on a table, his feet planted firmly between two plates of food, holding what was certainly not his one and only glass of butterbeer. His glasses were askew and sliding down his nose, his hair was a sight to behold, and—

Were those fucking antlers?!

James swayed on his feet, thrown a bit off-kilter by either the butterbeer or the goddamned antlers. Lily Evans, presumably, as Sirius suspected, the reason behind said antlers, reached out a hand to steady him.

"Sirius, Potter seems to have forgotten about your bet," Lily announced to the entire common room.

"Wha—"

Oh. That bet. He'd forgotten she knew about that.

Lily gestured for them to come over and, well, to be quite honest, Sirius didn't want to join them in the centre of the crowded room. Too many people, too many happy-friendly-nice people who'll pat him on the back when James snogged him.

Remus, apparently sensing Sirius's anxiety, pushed his way through the laughing crowd, carving a path for Sirius to follow mostly unscathed. Sirius kept his arms tucked close to his chest, careful not to touch or, worse, be shoved into Remus or Lily. After a moment of hopping around uncomfortably, Sirius climbed up on top of the table with James, and Merlin, it did wonders for his confidence. He plastered a smile on his face.

"Technically," James said, holding up a shaking finger. "Technically you got caught, so you didn't exactly win."

"That was your fault, mate!" Sirius protested, mostly for the sake of the crowd. "Remus and I had an escape plan!"

"Oi!" James slurred. "It was windy!"

"I broke into Ravenclaw tower. That was the deal."

"Yes, but—Mmph!"

In a moment of true Gryffindor courage, Sirius grabbed James by the antlers and crashed their mouths together. It was sloppy and holy-fucking-Merlin it hurt, but the crowd roared out waves of laughter and raucous cheers and every nerve in Sirius's body buzzed with life, uninhibited.

Five, ten seconds later, Sirius shoved James away so hard, James almost fell, but both of them were laughing so hard it didn't even matter. Sirius's lips stung and his hands tingled a bit, but he didn't care that it'd hurt. He didn't even particularly care that it'd been James. It could have been anyone in this goddamned room. It meant he'd chosen something, that he'd made it happened just because he fucking wanted to, consequences be damned. It was intoxicating. He'd never known a rush like it before.

James wiped a hand over his mouth, and let out his own burst of wild, uninhibited laughter. "You slobbered all over me, you fucking mutt."

Merlin, how the crowd roared.

James hopped down from the table, shoved Lily aside, then stood up on his tiptoes to cup Remus's face. James kissed him square on the mouth. Remus's eyes went wide in shock and Sirius nearly collapsed in on himself in laughter. Recovering from his initial surprise, Remus wrapped his long arms around James and made a show of it, until James was scrambling to get away, his face beet-red.

"I suppose that's because I also broke into Ravenclaw tower?" Remus said, perfectly composed, and Sirius couldn't fucking breathe, he was laughing so hard.

James nodded, stunned into silence.

"Frankly, I'm feeling rather left out," Fabian said, stroking his beard in what can only be described as an attempt at a parody of seduction. "What do you say, Potter? I'll meet you in the cupboard."

James's eyes went wide, and he made a hasty exit, shoving his way back through the crowd. Someone started music, and the crowd pressed close together, dancing, and laughing, and revealing in the joys of life.

Suddenly, all feelings of euphoria melted away and Sirius found himself trapped, standing on a table in the centre of a crowded room with absolutely no exit strategy. Sirius wondered if anyone would notice if he stood there the rest of the night, until the crowd cleared up enough for him to make his way through without touching anyone.

"Hey," Lily Evans called up to him, green eyes wide and eyebrows pinched together in concern. "Hey, Sirius, are you okay?"

He must have made some kind of face, because the next thing he knew, Remus was standing next to her, and Peter's duvet had made a miraculous reappearance.

His heart racing, Sirius hopped down from the table, as Remus carefully wrapped the duvet around his shoulders. Merlin, there weren't words for his gratitude, so he muttered a simple, "Thanks," and met Remus's eyes, praying he could somehow convey the rest.

Remus gave him a small smile, then lowered his voice to a whisper. "Follow Lily to the dorm. I'll cover for you here."

Sirius's eyes went wide. He shook his head. "No, I'm fine. I should—"

"Sirius," Lily said, gently placing a hand on his duvet-covered arm. He hardly even felt the pressure of it. "Let's go."

Sirius managed a weak smile. "Tell Marlene I love her beard," he said to Remus, before following Lily through the crowd.

People laughed, and slapped his shoulder, jostled him around, and Sirius played it off with a wide smile, as best he could, eternally grateful for the duvet, even though it was covered in someone's spilled dinner by the time they reached the stairs.

Lily and Sirius stopped halfway up the staircase and sat, their backs against the curved, stone wall, two steps apart from each other. Sirius tossed the duvet on the step below him and muttered a quick cleaning spell.

"So," Lily said, eventually. Up here, the noise of the crowd hardly mattered. "Not a fan of crowds, I take it?"

Sirius scoffed. "That obvious?"

"Sorry for doing that to you. I didn't mean—"

"I'm glad you did," Sirius said, quickly, because fuck, he was glad. He smiled at her, and this time, it was genuine. "You meant well. It was fucking hilarious. James would probably like me to tell you that he's a fantastic kisser."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "Is he really?"

"Not in the slightest. I've had better kisses from my mother, whenever she's forced to pretend she likes me when we have company."

"Please promise me you'll tell Potter that when he's sober."

Sirius laughed. "Oh, Merlin. How many has he had?"

"Well," Lily said, letting her head thunk against the stone wall behind her. "He had his own, then Peter's, then the rest of Frank's when Frank wasn't looking. Frank took ten points from Gryffindor for that, by the way. At that point, I found it necessary to donate my own butterbeer to the cause."

Sirius sent her a sly smirk. "The cause to get James Potter drunk enough to snog his two best mates?"

"It was a truly noble cause."

"We'll make a Marauder out of you yet, Evans."

"Ugh, no thanks." Lily picked at the chipped, green nail polish on her fingers. "Just so you know, that thing with the flag and Ravenclaw tower? Pretty much the stupidest plan ever."

Sirius barked a laugh. "Thanks, Evans. I came up with it myself. Well, Remus helped. Peter brought snacks. And James was… there, though he did do most of the flying."

Lily looked unimpressed.

"You think you could have done better?" Sirius challenged.

"I know I could have."

"Doesn't matter, though, does it?" he said, with a teasing note in his voice. "It worked."

"You got caught."

"Yes, and McGonagall accidentally threw us the best part of the year." Sirius paused, the implications of that particular statement suddenly smacking him in the face. "Merlin, do you think McGonagall did it on purpose, banning us from the feast and all? Do you think she's trying to reward us for our unquestionable genius, but, like, without actually rewarding us?"

Lily giggled. "If she was, she'd never admit to it."

"Mm, you're right," Sirius said, relaxing against the wall. The sounds of music, laughter, and the occasional loud shout of jubilation from a very drunk James Potter echoed up the stone walls.

Sirius tilted his head, meeting Lily's green eyes. "Just out of curiosity, what did James do to warrant antlers?"

"He announced that our first child would be named either Herbert or Edna, after his dad's parents."

"Just thank your lucky stars he didn't go with Fleamont."

NOVEMBER 2, 1971

"Sirius?"

"Out here."

Sirius closed his fist to extinguish the Lumos charm that had been dancing between his fingers. He leaned forward a bit, his eyes locked on the faint silhouette in the dormitory window.

Remus yawned as he climbed through the window and took his place next to Sirius. He shivered slightly, and Sirius waved his fingers and muttered a warming charm over Remus.

"Are you just getting out of detention?" Sirius asked.

It was late, well past midnight at that point. The wonderfully bright, nearly-full moon shone brightly overhead, bathing them in ethereal light. It made Remus's scars stand out, bright and silver against the relative darkness of the night, etched in intricate patterns across his face and hands.

Merlin, Remus's scars were more mesmerising than the stars.

"Yeah," Remus said, fidgeting a little. He kept his eyes down, looking out across the castle grounds instead of up at the moon. If he felt Sirius's stare, he didn't say anything. "How about you? How's that essay?"

"Essay's done, as of this morning. Three fucking rolls of parchment on the difference between Dark Magic and curses. Lots of citations. Minimal sarcasm. All pretty boring, really." Sirius gave Remus his most winning smile. "Still three more detentions with McGonagall before I move on to scrubbing trophies with Filch. What'd he have you doing tonight?"

"He sent me to clean out McGonagall's office. After you'd left, apparently."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yes," Remus said, nodding sagely. "In the middle of cleaning her office, I came to a realisation that I could not, morally speaking, allow such an opportunity go to waste."

"Of course not. Please do continue."

"So I decided that I'd make the ink on all the Slytherins' Transfiguration essays disappear."

"I love it."

"Naturally, I had to break into her desk."

"You devious little shit."

"It was easy, really. Her locking spells are no where near as complicated as yours."

"That's because mine are custom made." Sirius wiggled his fingers for emphasis.

"Then I open the desk, and right there on top, there's this giant folder labeled Sirius Black."

Sirius barked a laugh. "Oh, please tell me she's been spying on me in cat-form. You know, sometimes I get the feeling I'm being watched, and I could be crazy, but I have found little fur balls—"

"No, she's not spying on you, you dolt," Remus said, laughing a little under his breath. "But I did find something interesting."

"What?"

Remus's eyes sparkled in the moonlight, and holy mother of Merlin, they were gold again. Perfect reflections of the moon, shining brighter than anyone's eyes ought to in the dark, and Sirius was utterly and completely lost in the wonders of the universe reflected in Remus's eyes. He couldn't look away, even when Remus laughed at his expression, drew his wand, and summoned something from their dorm room. Even when Remus offered it to him. Sirius was gone, millions of miles away, melting into nothing in the molten gold of Remus's eyes.

Remus shoved the package into Sirius's lap, chuckling softly, and finally, Sirius crashed back to earth. His face scrunched up in confusion at the neatly wrapped present on his lap.

"It's your birthday tomorrow, Siri," Remus said, his voice soft.

Oh.

Sirius looked between the package and Remus. "You got me a—"

"A present? Yeah."

Sirius tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. "No one's ever… Except Reg, one year, but even then it wasn't..."

Remus gave him a sad smile, but it did nothing to extinguish the brilliant gold of his eyes. "I figured that might be why you didn't mention it was your birthday. Go on. Open it."

Sirius looked down at the present again and shook his head. "No. I should wait until tomorrow, or—"

Something in Remus's eyes flashed, a white hot bolt of pain. "No, no. Please open it tonight. I know it's early, but—"

Fuck. Sirius's heart sank with understanding. "You're leaving."

Remus nodded, tears welling in his eyes.

"When?"

"In a few hours." His voice was tight, apologetic and almost broken.

Sirius reached out a hand, his fingers hovering over Remus's face, tracing his scars in midair. "Your eyes turn gold, and then you leave," he whispered. "A few days later, you come back bloody."

A tear fell from Remus's eye, landing on the corner of his mouth. Remus's tongue darted out to catch it as he took a in a shaky breath.

"Is there any way I can convince you to stay?"

Watery, golden eyes snapped up to meet his. "Christ, Sirius, I'd give just about anything, but…"

Remus's hand flew to a mouth as he tried to suppress a sob.

Sirius shuffled closer, as close as he dared without actually touching Remus. "How can I help?" Sirius whispered. "Please tell me what I can do, Re."

Remus sniffed, then reached up his hand, his fingers hovering a mere hair's breadth from Sirius's. "You can be here when I get back," Remus said, his voice far more steady than it had been a moment ago.

With his free hand, Sirius made a cross over his heart. "I solemnly swear it."

"Thank you," Remus whispered, then lowered his hand. He smiled, and it was mystifying, really, like his face had been carved from marvel, and the artist had spent eons mapping every one of Remus's scars. Remus gestured to Sirius's lap. "Open your present, Siri."

There was more to say—there was always so much more to say—but Sirius nodded and ripped open the paper. A book fell into his lap, tiny and well-worn, with a rose and a fox on the cover. The title read, Le Petit Prince, in elegant, gold cursive.

"The Little Prince. Remus, is this yours?" Sirius breathed. "I can't—"

Remus shook his head. "No! I mean, yes, it's mine, but I want you to have it. You… Christ, Sirius just take it. Read it. It's…"

"Special?"

Remus let out a small, breathy laugh. "More than you'll ever know. It's in French, so—"

"My French is impeccable, thank you very much."

"I've charmed it, too," Remus said. "Tap your wand to it—or, er, your finger, I guess, but use magic—and say, 'All men have stars'. It's a concealment charm, in case your mother ever decides to go through your trunk."

Sirius held his gaze for a moment, then obeyed. The book shimmered a little, then faded to brown leather. The gold writing morphed into a new title: Three Thousand and Thirty Six Potions for Young Wizards. Sirius opened the book, but all of the pages were blank.

"Say the same thing, and it'll change back."

Sirius tapped his fingers and said the words once more. He smiled up at Remus. "Thank you."

Remus watched him for a moment, his eyes flickering with something that Sirius couldn't quite make out, but it was enchanting. The corner of Remus's lips twitched upwards, in something of a smile, but there was a sadness there, too, buried beneath it all.

"This makes it worth it, you know," Remus said, his voice barely carrying over the ambient noise of the castle and the moon and the whole host of the heavens above them.

"Makes what worth it?" Sirius replied, almost too scared to ask.

Remus let out a low, self-depreciating laugh. "I wasn't going to come to Hogwarts. Did you know that?"

Sirius frowned. He hadn't been expecting that. "What? But you're a wizard."

Remus ignored him, save for a small quirk of his eyebrow. "Dumbledore came to my house. More or less begged my parents until they relented." Remus tore his eyes from Sirius and gazed over the castle, bathed in moonlight, fog, and and the eerie glow of torch-fire. "I never thought I'd get to see any of this."

"But why wouldn't you—"

"I never thought I'd have a friend who'd wait for me to come back every time I leave, who'd wait up for me, who'd bring me chocolate and steal my pillows. All those years, all that pain, and the scars and the fucking agony every goddamned time…" Tears streamed down Remus's cheeks, now, glistening silver rivulets cut and dissected by the scars already lining his face. Golden eyes flared brighter, unearthly and almost… inhuman, but so wild and kind and filled with pain no creature should ever know. "I was never meant to have any of this, least of all you."

Sirius clamped his mouth shut, swallowing all his questions. He shook his head, vehemently, because no, that wasn't true. Remus was good and kind, and fucking Merlin, Remus Lupin deserved every ounce of perfection and happiness this world had to offer. Sirius would give anything—

But the pain never left Remus's eyes. "Merlin, Siri, half the time I convince myself that you're not even there, that you're a figment of my imagination, or… or you're a manifestation of all those years I spent with nothing." Remus reached out his hand, and it hovered over Sirius's face. "How are you even real, Siri?"

Sirius didn't think. He grabbed Remus's hand in his own, clutching it tight as Remus's face lit up in alarm. Remus tried to pull away, but Sirius held on, gritting his teeth, his eyes watering in unimaginable pain, but he didn't care.

He didn't fucking care.

"I'm real," Sirius said, his voice cracking. "I'm real, Remus. This… This is real."

Finally, he let go, and Remus tumbled backwards, putting as much distance between himself and Sirius as the roof would allow.

"Fuck, Sirius," he whispered. "You didn't have to—"

"Yes, I did." Because, of course, he did.

Because the insanity of choosing pain—even an indescribable pain such as that—proved they were still alive, still breathing, still caught perpetually in each other's orbits.

The world could capsize, could burst into a hundred million pieces, but this… this one thing between them would still be there: unbreakable, unending, a culmination of all the shattered scars between them.

This was the very reason Sirius's heart was still beating.

Remus huffed, laughing a little, because what else can you do when you stare inevitably and insanity right in the face? "Some birthday celebration, huh?"

Sirius shrugged. "Best one I've ever had."

"This was supposed to be fun."

"You got me a book. That's definitely fun." Sirius shot him a wry smirk. "If you come back in one piece, my birthday will be even better."

"I'll do my damnedest."

Sirius flipped the book open to the first page. "What's it about?"

A look crossed over Remus's features: something of amazement. Maybe something as astronomically crazy as hope. "A fox, a rose, a prince, and all the wonders of the universe," he whispered.

"Read it to me?" Sirius asked, offering the book out to Remus. "At least for a little?"

Remus nodded, taking the book. "Come on. Let's go inside."