A/N: Warnings for: smoking (underage) (tobacco & weed), body dysmorphia & ed-thoughts, swearing & very mild violence. Also, very long chapter (10k+).
Here's the weekly chapter as promised! Hopefully the first two parts aren't too shabby, they were a little rushed, but I thought of the scenes two days ago and I just had to include them. That's also why this chapter's so long.
October 16th, 1975
The girls stood in a semi-circle around the object, all staring at it with varying degrees of intensity. It sat atop Mary's dresser, as hers was the neatest and had the most space, and they had all agreed that she was the most likely to diplomatically choose stations rather than hog it. She was still smiling about that decision.
"You're sure that's how it works?" Lily asked, one eyebrow raised. "You don't need to plug it into anything?" It did seem far-fetched. Then again, it was called a wireless. But on a third point, there weren't even any batteries needed! Amy had looked almost angry when they'd asked.
"It'll be fine," Marlene said. "We followed the instructions. It's just a funny quirk of the whole thing." It had been really strange, reading the instructions. For one thing, the illustrations moved, showing the way you were meant to wave your wand and everything. Part of her wished she could show her dad. All the Statute of Secrecy stuff was so confusing, and Mary never knew if she was being too cagey or too open with it. Lily always shrugged it off, but Mary knew she'd gotten a handful of warnings about it. And that was Lily, who was smarter than she could ever be.
"Anyone want some gum?" Alisha asked. She'd broken their little half-circle, and was holding up a brightly coloured packet.
"Ooh, yes please," Mary said, crossing the room. Alisha dropped some into her hand, and Mary popped it into her mouth, chewing. It tasted like pudding. Lily took some too, but Marlene shook her head.
"I'm alright," she said. "We've got about twenty minutes until it fires up, so I'm gonna go for a smoke." Mary frowned. Marlene never believed her when she said that it could cause cancer, even when she'd tried to tell her about all the studies she'd seen in the paper. They weren't meant to smoke on school grounds anyways!
"Smoking kills," she said around her gum. Marlene rolled her eyes.
"Okay!"
"I'm going too," Amy said. "We'll be back." Lily very obviously fake-coughed at them, pulling a face and sticking her tongue out. Marlene snorted and they left. Mary watched the door shut.
"Why won't they listen?" she asked, sitting down hard on her bed. This led to an inquisitive little 'miaow?' on Berlioz's behalf. Mary reached out and began to tickle his chin with one finger. He was a good little cat.
"They're just too cool for us," Lily said sarcastically. Alisha's lips smacked as she chewed her gum.
"I just can't be bothered getting a detention for it," Alisha said. "Or walking down all those stairs."
"If you do it too much, it gets addictive," Lily said, sitting down on her own bed and crossing her legs. "That's why they're such idiots about it." Mary nodded eagerly. She'd heard that too, but again, Marlene never listened. It was bad enough that the boys did it, but it was just gross for Marlene and Amy to. She could smell it on their breath afterwards, and they'd whinge if it had been too long.
"Sucks," Alisha said, shoving her gum packet back into her drawers. She scrounged around in there, and then pulled out a magazine. Mary's eyes shone. She kept meaning to get a subscription, but she always forgot. Alisha held in her hands a copy of 'Total Witch', otherwise known as the bible (with a lowercase 'b'. Mary only really went to church on Easter and Christmas and over the summer, but still). "The October edition, brand new."
"You didn't tell us when it came in!" Mary said, jumping off her bed. Berlioz meowed. Mary dived onto Alisha's bed, arms stretched out. "Can we see? Please?" Lily joined her on the bed. Alisha grinned at the magazine, and then back at them.
"Sure," she shrugged. She joined the pair of them on the bed, legs crossed, and opened the first page of the magazine. Mary rolled onto her back, and Lily looked over Alisha's shoulder. Mary loved when the new editions came in. Hogwarts wasn't like a muggle school - you couldn't go shopping on weekends or after school and see what people were wearing and what looked good and what new sales were on. Fashion seemed to freeze from the summer, with those who were really into it catching up on the trends at Christmas and Easter, or sometimes even on Hogsmeade weekends. Catalogues came around, but you couldn't try anything on and the prices were so exorbitant that Mary went pale.
"Do we want to read the…no, I don't, actually." Alisha flipped through the pages.
"Maybe I want to read about the editor's thoughts," Lily said indignantly. "I mean, she is a journalist. They don't just make magazines so we can look at clothes."
"Yes, they do," Alisha said flatly. "That's like, the whole point."
"I just want to look at the clothes," Mary said. The articles rarely held her interest as much as the models did, unless they were about how to get those clothes – or, in Mary's case, how to fit. She put a hand to her stomach with a frown.
"Nope, not today," Lily said. "Today, we're respecting the editor." Her lips smacked as she chewed her gum. Mary heard the pages turn. "A-hem." It was less formal than Mary would've thought, and made a bunch of references she didn't know – she couldn't even tell if they were magical references or just smart-people references. Well, at least that was a sure way to make her feel dumb. She wriggled. Alisha's bed felt much softer than hers. The mattress curved around her body. Her limbs sunk into the bed. Naturally. Mary mightn't've been the brightest spark, but she knew that heavy things sunk. Light things flew. That's why girls like Livia McLaggen and Laura Vickers soared through the air, and she stayed firmly planted on the ground.
Whoopee.
"'I have been deeply saddened to hear of the continuing loss of life in the United Kingdom, and particularly within our own community'," Lily read. "I can only hope that this senseless violence will end soon and we can cease our worrying. I believe that in times such as these, we have to band together - and I ask every girl reading this to band together with her peers, with her girlfriends, to look out for one another, and make the most of the good things in life." Hm. That was...nice, Mary thought. Even if it was a lot of words.
Lily kept reading, and the rest of it was the same. About being kind to one another, complimenting each other...Mary tried to do that ordinarily. It wasn't hard - girls were everywhere, doing things. Lily looked pretty ten times a day, and Mary told her so at least one time out of ten. Then Lily flipped to the pictures - the good part. Mary rolled over to look as the fashion pages were opened. She caught her breath. Tall girls, impossibly skinny with curly hair perfectly swept back from their faces slowly rotated, jutting a hip out here and putting a hand to their cheek there. Two modelled patterned robes, one orange with plai, and the other purple with blossoming blue flowers. The robes hung off their dainty frames, and thin thumbs traced their chiselled jaws. Mary's heart raced. She poked a thumb at her cheek. It was all flubby and pale. The robes didn't even look like they'd fit her - she'd be lucky to get them over her head. That was the thing - Mary was huge, she never fit into anything nice, not like Lily or Amy. Her cheeks were chubby and her thighs touched and her fingers were all fat and swollen and awful. Her stomach rolled just thinking about her body.
Mary focused on the other two models. They wore more muggle-y clothes, two patterned dresses that fell below the knee. Their waists were cinched with brown belts wrapped tight. They were the most gorgeous creatures Mary'd ever seen - except maybe for the models in the last issue. Their waists were so small, their eyes were so blue, their arms were so thin, their skin so clear.
Her face got very hot. "I'm just going to the bathroom," she said quietly, and scooted off the bed. She slipped into the ensuite, and fumbled for a lightswitch. The candles lit on their own. Mary stared at the mirror, eyeing off the roundness of her chin, and wiggled slightly. She felt her body jiggle - worse, she saw it. She turned to the side, picturing the models' waists. There was no way that brown belt would ever fit around her. It was hopeless. Why did she even bother looking? That was why she didn't have a subscription. There was no way she could ever wear anything in the stupid magazine anyways. Mary swallowed, and leaned over the sink, turning the taps. She splashed hot water on her face, and rubbed her palms against her eyes. They were so pretty. Girls were so pretty. It was just her that was the anomaly, the weird one. She jiggled when she looked in the mirror, for crying out loud! The water dribbled down her face.
Why couldn't she be pretty?
October 18th, 1975
James wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and set down his pumpkin juice. "See, Pete, I think it's V that's giving you all the issues." Peter threw his hands up.
"It's a quill!" he said. "How vicious could it be? It's not as though it's got a mind of its own!" James scrunched up his face.
"Well, you gotta think about all the ways it could be vicious," he said. He'd done up the equations the night before, and while he hadn't had them checked, he knew they were right. He hadn't gotten any of his equations wrong so far that year, and he wasn't about to start. "Okay, say you're locked in a room with You-Know-Who, and you're only armed with a quill. How would you use it?" Peter shook his head, mouth open.
"What happened to my wand?"
James rolled his eyes. "I dunno, mate, but it's not there. Uh – he broke it and snapped it or something."
"Almighty," Peter said. "I think I'd just let him kill me."
"How very brave of you, Pete," James said, biting into his toast. He glanced around the Gryffindor table absent-mindedly, and spotted Lisbete Moult only five or six people down. He still didn't know why she'd bought him chocolate frogs when he was in the Infirmary, but he wasn't complaining. They'd been good chocolate frogs, and she'd been alright company. At least she didn't go on about him being an idiot like Sirius and Remus had.
"James, that's your owl," Sirius said, nudging him and pointing. James looked up. A flurry of owls were descending, carrying letters tied to their feet, with a handful of parcels in the mix. They all looked distinctly ruffled and wet from the rain. Sure enough, Ignotus – named after James' favourite character as a kid – was amongst them, diving towards the Gryffindor table.
"Ah, shit," James said, patting his pockets. He came up with a tissue, but that was it. The eagle owl landed on the top of his head. His mum had always told him it was because his hair looked like a 'bird's nest'. Yeah, well, whatever. He wasn't about to give in and use his dad's stuff just because – "Ow! Ignotus!" The owl fluttered down to the table, dropping the letter on his toast. He picked it up.
"Your mum has already sent you a letter this week," Remus said. James shrugged, ignoring the twinge of unease in his stomach.
"Yeah," he said. "I dunno – maybe McGonagall wrote to her about that detention or whatever."
Sirius laughed. "If your mum wrote to you every time you got detention, Ignotus would've died of exhaustion by now." James chuckled, turning over the envelope and breaking the seal. Ignotus pecked at the table.
"Anybody have treats? I don't have any on me," James said. Peter obliged, pulling out a packet, and the owl was on his arm in a second. James unfolded the parchment carefully.
It smelled strongly of his mother's perfume, and her writing looped across the page in glistening red ink, slightly larger and in more of a scrawl than usual. He never read letters from start to finish - his eyes bounced around, looking for words that jumped out at him.
'Sorry - important - father - fall - St. Mungo's - two nights - kitchen.'
"Dad's had a fall," James blurted out. He shook his head, ignoring his mates, and tried to read from the beginning. His dad had been sent into St. Mungo's late last night, after getting up to make himself a cup of tea and being overcome by dizziness. His mum had heard the teacup smash and gone downstairs to find him. "Shit!"
"James!" Sirius grabbed his arm. "Is he in Mungo's?"
"Er -" James tore his eyes away from the letter. Sirius' eyes widened. They shared a look, and Sirius stood up and took off down through the hall.
"What's going on?" Remus asked. James' eyes burned. He blinked furiously. Okay, so falls weren't fatal or anything dumb like that, but his dad was nearly seventy. His eyes scraped back over the letter. His dad's ribs shattered when he fell, as did the arm he threw out to try to prevent it. No head injuries that the healers could find. But what the hell had made him fall? "Where's Sirius off to?"
"I don't have a quill," James said. "Or any ink." He pushed back his hair. What was he even going to say? She hadn't asked him to come home - and in fairness, it was likely that all he'd do would be sit by the hospital bed and run to the little shop to get his mum food. But he wanted to do that. It was something, at least. "He's bloody lucky Mum heard him fall - or -" James swallowed. Images of his father curled up on the floor of their kitchen flashed through his mind, groaning and wheezing. "If he didn't drink so much tea! He has tea more often than Dale wanks." Peter gestured vomiting, and Remus rubbed his temple.
"Thank you for that picture, James," Remus said sarcastically. James shrugged, and thumbed the letter. They left prints on the parchment. He wiped his hands on his robes. Had they put him under a Sleeping Draught? How was his mum holding up? Healers could patch up broken bones in no time - so why were they keeping him in for not one but two nights?
He pushed his plate away, and stroked Ignotus while Peter kept him calm with treats. Remus' copy of the Prophet came in, and James looked over it, heart beating fast. The Potters weren't the Blacks; a fall wouldn't make the paper. Suspicious activity in Godric's Hollow, however, would. There was nothing on the front page, and he rifled through the first few. The Wizengamot was due to sit in a few days (they glanced over appropriately at the Slytherins, many of whom with relationships in those seats), and there was an interview from one of Montrose's stars, but that was it. James didn't even muster a smile at the Quidditch pages. His gut churned. Was it worse if it was just a fall? What if his dad was sick? Like properly sick.
Sirius made it back in record time, cheeks flushed and forehead gleaming. His hand fell lightly onto James' shoulder.
"Thank you," James said, taking the supplies and starting his letter immediately. The ink ran so bad that the writing was almost illegible, and his elbow knocked his pumpkin juice down the table. Peter cleaned it for him, Ignotus on his shoulder. He crossed out his name on the envelope and wrote his mother's, and quickly attached it to Ignotus' leg. "Go quick," he said. The owl looked at him, pressed against Peter's cheek, and then took off. Peter rubbed his shoulder.
"He's heavier than I thought," Peter winced.
James spent the rest of the day fidgeting and twitching and tapping, pacing the halls until he was out of breath and then laying on a bench, mussing his hair endlessly. He even let that slimy git Snape stalk past without much ado, only aiming a lazy disarming spell at him that hit a second year instead. Remus sorted it all out for him.
"I just wish I could floo the bloody hospital and have a look," he said as they went down to dinner. "I can't stand this."
He watched Remus and Peter play chess and then ducked off for a smoke with Dale. Rain drizzled down, wrapping the castle in a fine mist, and so they went up into the clock tower, sitting on the landing just below the mechanism itself. James draped the Invisibility Cloak over them both and it formed a weird little hotbox. Due to whatever genius spell his ancestor had come up with, the Potter cloak wasn't flammable, unlike plenty of others on the market.
"This cloak is the fucking best," Dale said, blowing out smoke. "Love you for it, James."
"Love you for this," James said, flicking his joint lazily. The pair of them leaned against the large grate where a glass window had probably once been. His heart slowed the more he smoked, and the muscles in his legs began to relax. Neither he nor Dale said much. He finished his first and Dale rolled him another one with remarkable speed. James muttered an 'incendio' and lit it. The rain constantly pitter-pattered, never plucking up the courage to fully pour. It made it easier to spot Ignotus when the large owl swooped down into the courtyard. James fumbled with his pockets and pulled out the bag of owl treats he'd made sure to bring with him this time, pouring himself a handful. He stuck his hand out past his cloak and through the grates, and the owl quickly flew over, landing on his wrist. With some difficulty, he managed to get the bird to stand on the metal bars, using one hand to feed him, and the other to retrieve the letter.
"You want me to go?" Dale asked. "Nobody's 'round, I'll be right to pop out for a minute."
James hesitated. "Er - yeah. Thank you." Dale nodded and shrugged the cloak off, ducking out. James put the letter on the ground to pull the cloak up to cover himself more, and let Ignotus peck the last of the food. Once he had both hands in action, he tore open the envelope.
His eyes flicked through it again. 'Tests - old age - downstairs - fright - eye on - keep it quiet - stay.' At least all his bones had been mended, but much of the letter loosened James' stomach. His father had gone downstairs for a cup of tea, and had been nearly done when he saw a light outside. He'd gone to the window for a look, and came over dizzy, so went back to the kitchen for his tea and his wand and collapsed flat. Mum said his story was why they were running the extra tests - to rule out any early - senility? - or delusions. 'Your father seems fine to me, if a little bit taxed by being away from home. But he's sharp as ever - they're disarming the wrong wizard, if you ask me.' That didn't even make sense. None of it made sense. James' head hurt. He shoved the letter back in the envelope, and patted Ignotus on the head. "Thanks, mate, you can go home," he said. If he needed to write, there was always a school owl. And he didn't really feel like writing. It was so annoying to have to wash the ink off his hands.
"You can come back, mate!" Dale climbed back beneath the cloak, and they stayed underneath sharing a stash of chocolate frogs and fizzing whizbees until they heard footsteps. They pressed up against the grate, and watched as a pair of prefects passed by - Laura Vickers, who was on the team with him, and Wilkes, one of those Death Eater wannabe scumbags. And they were alone. Laura and Wilkes. He stood up suddenly, and all the blood rushed to his head. The cloak dropped around his ankles, but left Dale covered. Maybe - maybe that had been the light? A Death Eater? That sounded like something they would maybe do.
"Wilkes," he said slowly. Laura was staring at him open-mouthed, and Wilkes' brows were knitted.
"Potter," he said. "It's past curfew."
"James," Laura said. "Go to bed. Now. And we won't do anything." Wilkes looked at her. James laughed. Wilkes probably like, got totally soft when he didn't get to punish people. He wondered how much it shrunk. But wait - if it was getting soft now, did that mean it was normally hard? Maybe Wilkes just walked around semi-hard. James laughed against.
"Go," Wilkes said, folding his arm across his chest. James mimicked him. "Don't be a twat, go to bed, or we'll have to report you." His voice sounded so stupid. It was all quiet and shit. Maybe all the Death Eaters had to whisper. They just whispered to each other in bed like girls. James chuckled.
"Don't be a twat," he said, rolling his eyes back and sticking his lips out.
"Seriously, James," Laura said. "We don't need to lose any more points." Why was Laura being so boring? He'd earn them all back if they won the Quidditch Cup. And they would. They had the best team, obviously, so why wouldn't they win? John was a smashing captain, James, Laura, and Kelsey were the hottest chasers you could ask for, Marlene whacked stuff well - it was all good. All goodsy.
"Are you high?" Wilkes asked, wrinkling his nose. James' eyes widened. He wasn't even holding anything! And he didn't look high. Did he? He ran his fingers through his hair.
"Maybe you're high!" James said. He needed something to distract. Shit. Um. "Death Eater!" That'd do it.
"Pardon?" Wilkes demanded. Well, James had said it now. Couldn't back down.
"Yeah," James said. "Like - you were at my house, and then you - you lumos'd shit, and then he fell. Yeah. And you did it." Well, somebody had, and it was probably a Death Eater. So maybe Wilkes could have done it. Maybe You-Know-Who made sixth years Death Eaters. James didn't know. Laura buried her face in her hands. Shit. If it was so bad she couldn't look - what was Wilkes capable of? James didn't even know where his wand was. "Don't - don't pull anything," he said warningly, sticking his hand out like he had his wand. Maybe Wilkes would think he did have his wand. It was dark. Maybe he couldn't see or something.
"What I'm going to pull," Wilkes said flatly, "is a little trick I call -"
"Don't try it!" James shouted and threw his hands out wildly. No way was he letting a Death Eater scumbag get him! James began making whooping noises like a bird, to scare Wilkes off. Wilkes stepped back. Yes, James thought. Victory!
"What the fuck, James?" Laura cried out. "You hit a prefect, you idiot!"
"He's - he's a - uh - Death...Muncher. Eater!" James said.
"You astonish me," Laura said. "McGonagall could kick you off the team for this!"
Oh. Yeah. She could, couldn't she? "Shit."
October 25th, 1975
"It's good to be back," James said, throwing his arms out. "Oh, how I've missed you, Hogsmeade."
"I still can't believe Professor McGonagall didn't ban you from coming," Remus frowned. It made him slightly uneasy to know that punching a prefect unprovoked only warranted three weeks worth of mild detentions, even if the prefect in question was a prat, and the punch had apparently been an 'accident'.
"She loves me," James shrugged. "And knows how many months I've had to spend apart from this beauty."
"James," said Peter. "Didn't you visit over the summer?"
"It's not the same," James said. "Not without you, Pete." Remus smiled at Sirius' tired look.
"See?" he said. "This is why I have trust issues."
"I didn't mean it like that!" James said, ducking behind Peter and pushing himself between Peter and Sirius. He turned to Sirius, hands clasped, knees bent slightly. "Please, Sirius, you know I didn't."
"I just can't do it anymore," Sirius continued, stage-whispering to Remus. Remus raised his eyebrows, nodding, and wondered how long they intended to block most of the path. A group of annoyed-looking fourth year girls had split up to walk around them, and were glaring curses at them.
"Sirius," James pleaded.
"James!" Sirius snapped, whipping his head around. "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times! I cannot go on thinking your heart belongs to another!" Remus exchanged a look with Peter.
"I didn't mean it," James continued, dropping his knees to the stone path. Remus winced. James' mouth formed an 'o', but he didn't stop. "My heart has never belonged to Mr. Pettigrew."
"Mr. Pettigrew?" Sirius gasped, putting a hand to his chest. "I never! I was thinking of Miss Evans."
"Miss Evans," Lily said, ducking past them, arm-in-arm with Marlene, "says please don't use my name." James jolted forwards and very nearly hit Sirius' leg. Peter grabbed his shoulders and wrenched him back.
"It's you!" Sirius cried, whirling around. His arms were outstretched towards Lily, who recoiled, the corners of her lips twitching. "You have charmed him!"
"Well, believe me," Lily said, continuing down the path ahead of them. "It was an accident!"
Remus snorted as James clambered to his feet, a putrid shade of red.
"I want to go back now," he said quietly. Remus sighed.
"Alright," he said, and smiled at Peter. "Wormy, go tuck him in."
"Sod off," Peter said, gesturing. "I'm not a worm!" James began wriggling around wildly, rolling his shoulders and shaking his knees, flapping his hands.
"I'm Wormy," he said, putting on a high-pitched voice. "I can't stay still! I wriggle and giggle and roll down the hill! Moony! Moony, help me! Waaaahhh!"
"You just have to accept it, Pete," Sirius said. "It was meant to be."
"I'm not a worm!" Peter insisted. Remus looked down, smiling.
"I don't believe you're a worm, Peter," he began.
"Thank you!"
"I believe that you're a worm-whisperer. Not two days after we started calling you Wormy, they all showed up in your bed."
"That was James!" Peter said, throwing his hands up.
"Twasn't," James said. "I've told you my alibi. I was making hot, passionate love with -"
"Yes, Snape, we know," Remus cut in.
The rest of their walk to Hogsmeade was filled with James' indignant protests that he would never sleep with a Slytherin, Peter threatening to 'Unforgivable' anyone who said the word worm, and Sirius repeatedly calling Peter things such as 'wor-dsmith' and a 'wor-kaholic', culminating in Peter tackling Sirius to the ground and Sirius coining 'doing the Wormy', which consisted of wriggling until your opponent was thrown off.
"I'm really sorry, Alice," Remus said, wringing his hands together. "I should've stopped them."
"Yes, you should've," she said sharply. "I don't want to hear of anymore Gryffindors getting into fights, and I don't want to hear of anymore Gryffindor prefects blatantly ignoring aforementioned fights."
"Yes, Alice," Remus said, face hot. She gave all of them a sharp look and then stormed off, heading to the other end of High Street. Remus' gut churned a little. It had just been a joke. He scratched his neck. Hopefully Alice wouldn't bring it up at the next prefect meeting. Jugson had never mentioned that Saturday in the dungeons, but Remus wouldn't've put it past him to jump on the bandwagon if one appeared.
"Wow, Remus," Sirius said, shaking his head. "So irresponsible."
"Sirius," Remus said. Sirius lifted his hands up, and took a step closer to James. Remus slid his thumb through one of his belt loops. If it had really been an issue, Alice would've done more than just had a word with him. It was fine, he was fine, he wasn't going to lose his prefect position. Not over something as stupid as that.
Overhead, the clouds began to growl, and spats of rain pelted his shoulder. The boys looked up.
"Come on!" Peter said. "Everyone else'll have the same idea." They hurried off to the Three Broomsticks, which was busy even on the brightest day. A crowd gathered around the entrance, all trying to shove themselves through the door which could really only fit two at a time. James was jumping up and down. Remus followed his line of sight.
"John!" James shouted. "Johnny-Johnny-John-John!" Gryffindor's Quidditch Captain had snatched a spot at the front of the crowd with his rather pale girlfriend, Dale's older sister. "Remus, put your hands up, he'll see you!"
Remus sighed, but put both hands in the air, despite the fact that he was already head-and-shoulders above most of the crowd, even the adults.
"John!" James continued. The older boy turned around, and met Remus' eyes. Remus gave him a weak smile, and tilted his head to indicate James, whose glasses just peeked over the top of the person in front of them. John looked at them, whispered something to Betty, and shoved his arm and upper body into the crowd. James immediately began elbowing his way through, Peter holding his sleeve. Remus rolled his eyes and followed Sirius.
"Excuse us," he said. "Excuse me - sorry, he didn't mean - excuse me, please - sorry, sir -"
John managed to pull them through the crowd and into the Three Broomsticks, which was rapidly running out of tables.
"You're a legend, John," James said. "Thanks, mate."
"S'alright," John said. "Look out for each other, don't we?" He disappeared into the crush.
"Remus, scout us some seats," Sirius said. "It's your duty." Remus chuckled, and set to it.
"There," he said, pointing to a table towards the back. Peter began worming his way through the crowd as the shortest of them, ducking and diving, and the rest of them followed.
The table in question appeared to have been left free on account of a large juice stain covering the table. Peter drew his wand. "Tergeo," he said, pointing. The sticky orange liquid shot towards his wand and promptly disappeared. "There we go," he said, and took one of the seats.
"I don't know why we're going to waste time on that spell," Sirius grumbled, sitting next to Peter. "Honestly, Flitwick says it'll take a week. A week! If Peter can do it -"
"Mum taught me," Peter said, putting his wand away. Remus sat down next to James.
"You're all going to get me into trouble," he said. "First for fighting, and now I should be deducting for using magic outside Hogwarts."
"It wasn't even a proper fight!" Peter said.
"It's Hogsmeade, Remus," Sirius said. "They're not going to give a rat's about a little underage magic. Madam Rosmerta would probably thank us." Remus settled for giving both of them a look, and then leaned back in his chair. One of the waitstaff came round and took their orders, and soon enough they were all drinking butterbeer and digging into lunch.
"I'm just saying," Remus added, eyebrows raised, "that maybe revising throughout the whole year would be easier than cramming it all in at the end."
"Who's cramming it all in at the end?" Sirius asked, chin resting on his palm. A lock of his dark hair brushed his cheek.
"You, if you don't study now," Remus said.
"But we don't need to study," James said. "We'll pass for sure, we go great already."
"It's your O. ," said Peter. "You can't just pass if you do nothing."
"Unless we can," Sirius said. "It would be an interesting experiment."
"You can't just experiment with your grades, Sirius," Remus said, exhaling through his nose. "If you don't get any O. , you'll have to leave."
"Yes, but I'll get O. in something," Sirius said. "There's better things to do than waste your life studying, Remus."
Remus resigned himself to his butterbeer at that, polishing half the tankard off in a couple of seconds. In the time it took, the conversation had veered left into Care of Magical Creatures at a breakneck speed.
"All I'm saying," Peter said, "is that maybe it's helpful to visualise an animal before - erm, the changing process."
Or maybe Transfiguration.
"It happens naturally," James said. "If you perform the spell properly, then you don't need to visualise an animal. It just is what it is."
"Which spell are we talking about?" Remus cut in. "Don't you listen to Professor McGonagall? Part of the concentration element is the visualisation of the end result." He looked at James in particular, who easily outdid the rest of them in her class. James had been the one to remind Remus of that fact all the way back in first year, when Transfiguration had still made Remus' hairs stand on end. James' gaze darted away, landing somewhere on the table. Peter was fidgeting. Sirius' lips moved very slightly, in that way they did after a fight when he was checking for all of his teeth.
"What?" Remus said sharply, tensing. James looked back at him, wincing.
"Remus -" James started.
"Does anyone have a cigarette?" Sirius said, louder. His thumb was pressing against his cheek, hand curling around his chin. "I'm hanging for one."
"No," Peter said.
"I'm out," James said. "I could go for one too, though." He glanced at Remus. His chest constricted.
"Yeah!" Peter agreed, jolting forward. He grinned, but his eyes were wide. Remus looked between all of them, lips tightening.
"You want me to get them," he said.
"If you don't mind," James said.
"You'd be doing us a favour," Sirius told him. Remus determinedly didn't make eye contact. They were sending him on an obvious fool's errand so they could talk about...whatever it was they were talking about. Without him. Right.
What do you expect? They're your friends, but it doesn't change who you are. They'd be stupid if they did have you in on everything. Considering.
"Fine," Remus said rakishly. He pushed himself up off the table, the tankards wobbling.
"Here," James said, thrusting a pouch towards him. "My shout." Remus took it.
"Thanks," he said, and turned away quickly, swallowing acid.
Remus stormed out into the little paved area, squared off with a rickety fence. A rusted gate blocked off a narrow path towards the back streets of the town, marked by little buildings, slanting roofs, and an infestation of mice and reportedly chizfurples. Chairs and tables sat underneath scarlet umbrellas were set up for absent patrons. He couldn't blame them, given the weather. Water lapped at his shoes, and discarded leaves littered the ground. The wind was striking up a horrid gail, and even the thought of sitting there while they all whispered behind his back seemed better than standing out here. Maybe that was the nostalgia of two minutes ago speaking.
Curiously, the back side of the pub wasn't entirely empty.
Catherine Roshfinger and her blonde friend were leaning against the fence, bundled up in bright yellow coats and hats that the rain ran off. Both of them were staring at him. He glanced down. His clothes were no worse than usual, patchy but cleaned thoroughly by the house-elves. He hadn't been like Peter and squirted sauce on his sleeve. They were still looking at him. He glanced back towards the pub, and gritted his teeth.
"Er," he said. "Hullo, Cathy. And -" What was her name?
"Lisbete," she supplied helpfully.
"Lisbete," he repeated. "Right, sorry. It's miserable out here, why aren't you inside?"
"Because everyone else is," Lisbete said.
"There's no seats," added Cathy. "So we have to be out here."
Remus scratched the back of his neck. "Er - surely there's somewhere else you can be inside. Uh - what about Puddifoot's?" Girls liked that, didn't they? It was pink and all.
"Puddifoot's?" Lisbete sounded horrified. Shit. Well, he'd put his foot into it again.
"Puddifoot's is for dates, Remus," Cathy said. "You can't just go there without a date."
"It's the ultimate snog spot," Lisbete confirmed. Remus looked between the two of them. Christ, they were only third years, how'd they know all this? It would've only been their first trip.
Well, he assumed they didn't know all the secret passageways and have an invisibility cloak of their own so they could sneak around the village and avoid detection. Maybe that was too presumptuous.
"Right," he said.
"What are you doing out here?" Cathy asked. "You had a table inside, didn't you?"
"Yes," he said, and paused. Remus sighed. "My friends are busy telling each other nonsense about Transfiguration that they've known to be wrong since they were eleven, so they've sent me off for a pack of fags."
"Or they're covering badly for something," Cathy said. Remus blinked. Yes, that was most likely, but was it really any of her business? "Maybe some prank they don't want a prefect part of. No offence."
"I'd hate to be a prefect," Lisbete said. "Just for that reason. Why didn't you say no to being one?"
Remus hesitated. Honestly, the thought had never crossed his mind - could prefects actually say no? He supposed so. They couldn't force you to be a prefect. But they could force you to be in a certain house, so, maybe. He ran his finger over the pouch that James had given him. "Who else would they give it to?" he said finally. "What, prefect Dale?" The girls both giggled, and his face went warm.
"Should a prefect really be off buying cigarettes then?" Lisbete asked, tilting her head to one side. Cathy looked at her, and Lisbete met her gaze. They seemed to decide something between themselves. Remus just watched.
"We can get whatever you want," Cathy told him. "Go back inside and figure out their secrets."
"Er -" Remus did want to figure out what the hell they were talking about. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah, of course," Cathy promised. "Normal or special?"
He coughed. "How old are you?"
"You know Dale is my brother, don't you?" she asked, smiling. He shrugged. Regardless of who her brother was, she seemed far too young to be into all that. After all, he hadn't even started smoking until he was -
Okay, yes, he'd been twelve, but it was a different time.
"Salamanders, twenty-fives. Just bring them to the table," he said, resigned, and handed over the pouch. Lisbete and Cathy grinned at him. "Go to -"
"Belby's?" Cathy said, already pushing off the fence. "Bye, Remus."
"Bye," Lisbete added, waggling her fingers. The pair of them shoved the gate open and left. Remus scratched his neck again.
No sooner had they disappeared from his sight than he wished he had been the one to go. He turned back to face the door to the pub, holding his breath. They'd kicked him out of there for a reason. Given that he didn't know the circumstances, he couldn't really decide if it was right or not, could he? There was just a sting in his heart and a tightness squeezing his chest. Be logical. Maybe it wasn't about some awful plan they were making to secretly turn him into the Ministry, or to try to forcibly untransfigure his werewolf form in an attempt to cure him and end up permanently crippling him. He'd looked into it before. Usually the werewolf ended up dying an excruciating death, but sometimes they were left alive half-human, half-wolf, unable to walk or communicate, eventually starving to death if not put down immediately. A wave of nausea rolled in his stomach. But maybe they were just planning a surprise for his birthday. In March. That had to do with complex transfiguration that apparently ignored the usual components of transfigurative magic.
Bile rose in his throat.
How many times could he tell them to just stay out of it? The first moon after they'd figured it out, they'd attempted to come visit him the very next morning. Madam Pomfrey had been only an inch from taking Remus' head off for blabbing about it when James had admitted they'd followed him around, spying and sneaking, until they found out on their own, and then had badgered Remus into confirming it. His teeth grazed his lower lip. Peter had looked as though he was going to be sick, and James had been smiling, but he was as pale as a demiguise. Maybe Sirius was the cleverest of them all; he hadn't said anything to Remus that first morning. As if he'd considered leaving their odd little group.
Maybe that was their plot. To use some sort of transfiguration-stasis spell to expose him to the school. They wouldn't do that, part of him thought. Why would they do that? People had done worse to his kind.
The rain turned into a steady patter, and the wind rose to a scream. Whatever they were doing, he was only going to stay in the dark by standing out here. He straightened up, tugged at his jumper, and went back into the Three Broomsticks.
James, Sirius, and Peter were still at the table, shoulders hunched. No doubt they were whispering about their schemes. His heart twisted. He inhaled deeply, and then strode back towards them. He grabbed his seat and pulled it out, sliding into it.
"-can find it!" Sirius said.
"Remus!" Peter squeaked. He leaned back quickly. His chair leaned, too, and Sirius' arm shot out. Peter's feet were airborne, eyes goggling. The chair landed back on all four legs.
"Remus," James said. "That was quick."
"Yes," Remus said, eyeing them. Their drinks were still nearly full. "So, what kind of transfiguration are we talking about?" James started blustering again. Sirius began sloshing down his butterbeer. "Peter?"
"It's-" Peter screwed up his face. "You know, on those nights when you're - you're away-"
"Yes," Remus said flatly. "I know all about them." What the hell were they keeping from him?
"I - well - we didn't mean to hurt your feelings," Peter continued, eyes downcast. "We're not trying to exclude you." Remus swallowed, eyes narrowing.
"Okay," he said, lips pursed. Yeah, sure. But could he blame them? Maybe an attempt to untransfigure him wouldn't be so bad. It wasn't as if he could go around terrorising children, biting people, and getting fleas if he was dead.
"Just - it's awful for you. We know. And, I'm sorry. That it is awful." Remus shrugged.
"Thanks," he murmured.
"It's hard for us too," Peter said, shifting. "We just - we sit there, and jump at every loud noise, thinking it's-"
"Me killing somebody?" Remus asked dryly.
"No!" James' head snapped up. "No, no! Not ever! What the fuck? We know you would never do that, no more than I would, or Sirius, or Peter! We sit there thinking that you, our best mate, are in excruciating fucking pain and there's nothing we can do about it!" James slammed his fist down. The plates and tankards jolted. Remus eyed the next table over, but only one person was looking their way. One of the benefits of the inn being so overcrowded, he supposed.
Guilt was coiling in the hollow of his chest. Not five minutes ago, he'd been suspecting them of plotting to expose his secret to the whole school. You can't even trust your friends, he thought angrily. You paranoid fucking freak. When have they ever done wrong by you? What gives you the right to disbelieve them?
"So you two are blurting out the plan?" Sirius said. Remus stared at him. "Remind me to never let you be Secret Keepers."
"Just let me finish," Peter said, cheeks red. He faced Remus, meeting his eyes, and Remus steeled himself so he didn't look away. "We just couldn't take it, and - Professor McGonagall knows, so-" I don't want to be right. "- she gave us a research project to do, just the three of us. To take our minds off things. I think she forgot that James is the only Transfiguration prodigy out of us," Peter joked, but then he frowned again. "We didn't want you to feel shitty, so we didn't want to talk about it in front of you."
Remus wrapped his fingers around his empty tankard. Sirius was white, glaring at the table.
"We're really sorry, Remus," James said. Remus snatched a look at him, and focused back on Sirius.
"You're not bullshitting me, are you?" he asked, his voice hollower than he would've liked. His stomach curdled. It sounded stupid - why would Professor McGonagall do that? Had they been that - that lost? Because of him? He ground his heels into the floorboards. It seemed more likely than her inviting them to come have tea with her every full moon, though. It was better than them planning to expose him or try experimental magic on him. He wanted to believe it, but was that just being willfully naïve? He wished he could read minds. Or at least had the skill to look into a crystal ball or whatever and figure it out.
"We're not," Peter said. "You know I'd never lie to you. To any of us."
"It's true," Sirius said, looking up. His eyes were dark. "Are you going to get the cigarettes now?" Remus took his hand off his drink.
"About that," he started. "I ran into Cathy and Lisbete-"
"-she's the blonde?" Sirius asked.
"- yes. They were outside and wanted to go down there, so I let them."
"They're only third years," James frowned, sitting up. "Isn't that a little dodgy?" See! It hadn't only been him feeling funny about it! Things really had been different in 1973!
But that also meant he had done something morally dodgy.
"Erm," Remus said. "Cathy seemed to know where to go. We probably can't corrupt her anymore than Dale has, right?"
"Cathy came and saw me when I was in the Hospital Wing," Peter butted in. Remus turned to look at him, head cocked slightly.
"Really?" he asked. "Did she come see you, James?"
"Not Cathy," he said, laughing awkwardly.
"Lisbete," Sirius supplied, smirking. Remus raised his eyebrows, looking between his three mates. Deep down in the folds of his intestine, the thoughts threatened to bubble back up; more secrets they're keeping from you. They must keep a lot, huh? They don't even think to mention it to you. They don't want to share that part of their life with you.
"So, what?" Remus said, swallowing. "The Gryffindor third year girls are trying to move in on our dormitory?"
Sirius scrunched his nose. "Just what we need, a bunch of thirteen-year-olds in our room."
"You say that like we're mentally older than twelve," James said.
"I think they were just being nice," Peter said. "Cathy just asked if I wanted any of my books or anything, but I was getting out then anyways, so she just walked me back."
"Ah," Remus said. "I did wonder how you convinced Madam Pomfrey to let you out alone."
"I wouldn't've needed Cathy if one of you lot had come and got me," Peter frowned.
"Don't look at me!" James threw his hands in the air. "I was in the Hospital Wing too! No thanks to you, Wormy."
"Stop it!" Peter said.
"Do stop, James," Sirius implored. "You know he prefers Prince Squirmy-Wormy."
"I don't!" Peter said.
"I just want to know if Dale needs to be warned," Remus interrupted.
"I don't think he'd care," Sirius said loftily.
"Of course he'd care!" James said, hitting one of his elbows on the table. "It's his sister! Think about it - Wormy, if one of us bought your sister into the dorm for a bit of making out, you'd mind, wouldn't you?" Peter squirmed, pulling a face.
"I'd care because it'd be weird," he said. "But it'd never happen. She's got a boyfriend."
"Say she didn't," James pressed.
"I still don't think she'd date a fifteen-year-old," Peter said. "She was at Hogwarts when we were born."
"The bottom line is," James said, "that yes, Dale would care. So, I solemnly vow not to date his sister. Any of his sisters, actually."
"I swear too," Remus said, shrugging. Betty was two years above him and Cathy two years below - he was hardly going to chase them in the first place. In all honesty, chasing girls wasn't particularly a pastime of his. Laughing at his friends chasing girls was another matter.
"I, Sirius Orion Black, too duly swear," Sirius said, rolling his eyes and placing one hand on his heart. Their attentions all turned to Peter, who resembled a plum.
"Peter?" Remus asked.
"Mm?" Peter wiggled.
"You look like you need to piss," James said, ruffling his own hair.
"Now, now, Wormy," Sirius said. "Your turn." Peter coughed into his fist, turning away.
"Unless you can't promise," James said, a devilish grin crossing his face. The corners of Remus' lips were twitching furiously.
"But I can't think of any reason you couldn't," Remus said, doing his best to sound firm. "Unless…"
"Unless…" James grinned wider.
"The Davies family make fantastic engagement rings," Sirius said, stifling a yawn. "If you're interested."
"No!" Peter squeaked. "I'm not!" James leaned closer to Remus, raising a hand to shield their lips.
"I think he's in love, Moony," James stage-whispered conspiratorially. Remus nodded gravely.
"It seems a likely diagnosis," he agreed.
"I hate all of you," Peter said. "Dale's my new best friend."
"I believe you mean 'brother-in-law'," Remus corrected.
"Wormy, look!" Remus looked over his shoulder. Cathy and Lisbete had come through the back door. The girls pulled off their hats and slid off their coats. The racks were already full, so they were left holding them.
"Over here!" James shouted, waving his hands in the air. The girls waved back excitedly, and disappeared into the crowd. A few moments later, they emerged by the boys' table.
"Now's your chance!" Sirius said, elbowing Peter in the ribs. Peter winced. "Girls! Cathy! Peter has something to say to you." Cathy looked down at him, brows raised.
"Yeah?" Cathy asked. Sirius smiled smugly. Remus wished he'd gotten another drink.
"I - er -" Peter threw a desperate look across the table.
"Thank you for getting the cigarettes," Remus cut in. "You did us all a favour."
"Oh," Cathy said, tugging at the collar of her baby blue jumper. "That's alright."
"Here, James," Lisbete smiled leaning across the table. She smelt so strongly of flowers that Remus' nose itched. Her dress was cream and patterned with yellow and pink swirls. She was practically laying across the table. Remus made eye contact with Sirius, whose lips were pressed together, quivering, his eyes creased. Remus flicked his eyes down to Lisbete and back to Sirius', pulling a face.
"Uh - thanks, Lisbete. I, uh, appreciate it." Lisbete stood back up, shaking out a golden mane of hair. Remus turned his gaze to James immediately. He was flaming red, eyes bulging, one hand clasped tightly around the returned pouch of money. Remus dug his nails into his leg. His chest ached with the effort of not laughing.
"Of course," she said silkily, wrapping a lock of hair around her finger. She pouted so much that her chin crumpled, and batted her eyelashes furiously.
"Are you alright, Lisbete?" Sirius asked. Remus didn't miss the glint in his eyes.
"Oh, yes," she simpered.
"I was just worried - it seems like you've got a bug in your eye." Sirius' face was dead straight. Tears sprung to Remus' eyes, his body shaking silently.
"Oh," Lisbete put a finger to her eye. "No, I don't. But maybe I have an eyelash - James, could you-?"
"Have you got the cigarettes?" Peter burst out, just as Lisbete began to lean forward.
"Shush," Remus hissed.
"It's not as though it's contraband," Sirius said. "What are you worried about? We're only in trouble if they catch us in the dorm."
"It's still not a good look for a prefect," Remus said, folding his arms across his chest. Half of it was just for show. He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to see James attempt to get a possibly non-existent eyelash from Lisbete's eye. At least, not without a camera. He absently glanced around, wondering what Adrian Stebbins was up to.
"Here," Cathy said, pulling the packet from a pocket in her flared jeans. Sirius grabbed them.
"You're a peach," he said.
"Ta," she said. "Can a peach get a seat?" There was lots of shuffling, and James promptly got over his flaming face and whipped his wand out to attempt to transfigure and charm one of the tankards into a chair. The tankard was enchanted to resist James' attempt, presumably an enchantment that extended to anyone not working at the pub and not specifically aimed at James (although you never did know for sure). Ultimately, Lisbete's eyelids continued their fluttering and she ended up 'sharing' a seat between Remus and James, which James had exactly zero objections to, and Remus had a handful. It mollified him that very little of his space was encroached upon, while James was hardly visible. Cathy ended up just nabbing a chair from another table when the occupant popped off to the loo.
"No," Remus said reflexively as Sirius' wand tip flared up. "I'm a prefect, you twat. You can't light up at the table with me." It would be just his luck for Professor McGonagall to come by as Sirius smoked. Even if it was just a cigarette.
"Then go, and give Lisbete the chair," Sirius said. "If I want a fag, I'll have a fag." Remus bristled slightly. Ah yes, he thought. I'll just piss off because a smoke is more important than me. Fantastic.
"I'm really quite alright here," Lisbete said. James' words were muffled. Lisbete shuffled a little more onto his seat, and he made a sound that made Remus and Peter snigger.
"Alright back there?" Peter asked. Remus put a hand to his head, resting his elbow on the table as he tried to control his laughter.
"Yep!" James squeaked.
In the end, they ordered another round of food and drink, courtesy of James' pouch of galleons. The boys did their best to convince the wandering waiter that they were sixteen and therefore were perfectly entitled to a beer with a meal, but he gave them the hairy eye and trundled off. Remus put a hand to the stubble on his chin, and regretted shaving it on Thursday.
"I can't believe that," Sirius said. "I really will be sixteen in a week."
"Your birthday's on Halloween?" Lisbete asked.
"No, the third," Sirius corrected, eyebrows knitted. "Halloween would have been much cooler, though." Remus smiled slightly. A week away would've been the first, so both of them were wrong.
James made another muffled sound.
"What's that?" Peter frowned. Lisbete shuffled a little more, and James' head popped up behind her shoulder. Remus reflected dryly that when they'd been in third year, none of the girls had been so...well, he didn't know what the right adjective was. Maybe it was just that the girls their age were more likely to remember them as a group of eleven-year-old dorks or to recall - with accuracy - the ridiculous number of points they'd lost over the years. Though that fact really ought to have endeared them to the Slytherin girls.
"I was saying," James said, "that the girls should come to our Halloween party." Our Halloween party? The thoughts in Remus' stomach roared. Another bloody plan they hadn't told him about. He felt sick, he felt -
"Our Halloween party?" Sirius asked. His face was flat, aside from the slightest narrowing in his eyes that Remus recognised immediately. Relief flooded him. Sirius wasn't in on it, at least.
"Yeah, our Halloween party," Peter said. "You should definitely come! It'll be great fun. We're mainly inviting the older years, but-"
"Rules are made to be broken," James finished, smiling up at Lisbete.
"I'd love to come," Lisbete said. "Cathy?"
"Me too," she agreed. "So long as you keep Dale from babysitting me."
"I'm the resident babysitter in our dormitory," Remus said. "And I'll be sure to be blind in both eyes on Halloween night."
"Remus is very good at that," Sirius grinned.
"Halloween party?" Sirius asked.
"I think she likes me," James said dreamily. "Do you think she likes me? She does, doesn't she?"
"She was practically humping you," Remus said.
"Am I the only one wondering when we decided upon this Halloween party?" Sirius continued, racing up the stairs ahead of the other three. There was a rare lull in the rain, and it seemed half of Hogsmeade was evacuating the pub. He tucked a stray dark hair behind his ear. "We've got, what? A week-"
"Six days," Remus corrected. Sirius shrugged.
"Yes, six days, to plan this Halloween party that we haven't discussed at all just so James can get off with Lisbete."
"So she does like me!" James said triumphantly. Sirius rolled his eyes.
"Halloween party. Of course, I've no objection to throwing a party, but I am wondering; what the hell?" He flourished his arms. Sirius had no problem with coming up with shit as they went along, but he was keen to know if James had just made it up, or if it had been intended as a surprise combination Halloween party-sixteenth birthday celebration for him. Because he'd been going to propose just that to them (minus the surprise) once they were back in their dorm.
"Don't ask me," Remus said flatly. His voice was sharper than Sirius expected. "Peter and James must've been plotting."
"I haven't plotted anything!" Peter protested. "Why would I?"
"He hasn't," James said, scratching his neck. Sirius' face nearly fell, but he kept his smile on. No surprise parties, then. Brilliant. "I made it up - but it'll be fun! I figured you guys would be up for it! And you are, aren't you?" Well, if nobody was going to surprise him with a party, it didn't hurt to throw one of his own.
"Of course!" Sirius clapped him on the back.
"I can't say no," Peter grinned. Sirius glanced at Remus, who sighed.
"Fine," he said. "But only if you hide my prefect badge for the night." James whooped, and ran a little ahead of them. Sirius took off after him, shoes splashing in the puddles.
"Why're you running away?" Peter shouted. "What about our party?" The pair ducked around a group of girls and probably would've sprinted to the end of the street had James not accidentally elbowed a middle-aged woman. The two boys then had to apologise profusely, and Remus and Peter caught up with them quickly, smirking.
"Thanks for your help," Sirius said. "I didn't even do anything, but I stood by James and got lectured for being a - what was it?"
"'Reckless, rushing - rougarou'? I don't even know what a 'rougarou' is," James said glumly.
"You wouldn't," Remus said.
"Care to enlighten us?" asked Sirius. Remus looked at him.
"No."
The rain spat for a few minutes, and they ducked under the eave of the nearest shop. James, Sirius, and Peter made several guesses as to what a 'rougarou' was, until they wore Remus down enough that he revealed it was an American dog-thing with hairs that could be used to make wand cores.
"Do none of you pay attention in Care of Magical Creatures?" Remus asked. They all stared at him. "Stupid question." Sirius did sometimes pay attention to that class, though, which was better than what could be said for History of Magic or Astronomy, both of which were excellent chances to catch up on sleep and perfect his drawings of Snivellus and You-Know-Who making passionate love. Sirius didn't actually know what You-Know-Who looked like, so he just substituted in his father. Close enough - all the purebloods around Father's age looked the same anyways, excepting the occasional variation in colouring, baldness, and facial hair.
"I meant what I said about the guest list," James said later. "All the fifth years and up from our year, and Lisbete and Cathy. I guess anyone else we want?"
"I could invite Regulus and Gibbon," Sirius suggested with a nasty grin. The idea of Regulus entering Gryffindor Tower with his little bumbling sidekick warmed his heart. "Mother will kill me!" he imagined Regulus saying, with a pout much closer to the way he'd been at four than he was at fourteen. "It's not funny, Sirius!" He wondered if the Slytherins ever had parties, or if they just stuck to their gallivanting galas. He couldn't imagine Regulus at a Gryffindor shindig, let alone Narcissa or Mother. No wonder they were grumpy all the time.
"If you want," James snorted. "If I can invite Snivy." Snivellus popped into his mental image, in his shabby robes, greasy hair pulled up in a ridiculous bun like a girl might wear. Sirius chuckled.
"Lily'd love that," Remus cut in. "Sure way to make her go report us to Professor McGonagall."
"Fine, no Slytherins at the party," James said, waving a hand. "We can have our fun with them earlier in the day."
"I'll come up with something," Sirius volunteered. He loved James like a brother, but half his 'pranks' seemed to consist of scaring them by popping up somewhere with the Invisibility Cloak and crossing his fingers that he thought of something witty to say. They weren't Ravenclaws, what did he expect?
"Tormenting him isn't going to win her heart," Remus said sagely. "She seems a bit pissed off about it."
"I'm a bit pissed off about him being a greasy purist tosser," James said. "I don't know what she sees in him anyway. Is it that he's completely hopeless at Quidditch, or his fear of showers?"
"It's pathological," Sirius said, affecting a dark tone. "Don't be rude, James. He can't help that his bits shrivel up when he touches water." As he said it, his eyes took on a shine. Now there was an idea. Huh.
"Terrorising her best mate isn't going to endear you to her," Remus said. "As much as I agree he's a twit."
"Yes, but consider this: there's a girl who actually likes him and doesn't defend future Death Eaters," Sirius said.
"That's true," Peter said. "Lily doesn't even like him as a mate."
"What?" James put a hand to his heart. "She hasn't threatened to hex me for calling her 'Lily' at all this year!"
"Because you've worn her down," Remus said. "She still calls you Potter."
"You still haven't got me in with her," James shot back. Sirius could practically hear his blood boiling. For all the shit James gave people, he was pretty easy to rile up.
"No, but Remus calls her 'Lily', and spends all that time with her as a prefect now," Sirius said with false idleness. He leaned back as he walked, shoving his hands in his pockets. "You really should go after Lisbete, because, I mean, if any of us have a chance with Lily…" He looked suggestively at Remus.
"I wouldn't," Remus said stiffly. "James would kill me." The four of them rounded the last curve of High Street.
"Only for that reason?" Sirius asked. James gave Remus a very pointed look, and Remus scratched at his neck. Sirius beamed from ear to ear. "Maybe all this time, Remus has harboured another little secret...not so much furry as dirty…" He trailed off, running his tongue against the back off his teeth.
"I've never thought of Lily that way," Remus said. Sirius stepped back towards him, abandoning his role as their frontrunner. A pang of annoyance struck his chest. Remus was so infuriatingly tall, taller even than James, but with none of the grace to carry it. He was just long and lanky and awkward-looking. His mother would've had a fit at the 'wasted potential'. Back to the point, which was not how dashing Remus would be considered if appropriately kitted out in a set of ridiculous dress robes. The point was, who the fuck did Remus fancy? He hardly blinked at the magazine James and Sirius kept under their mattresses, he never went beetroot around a particular girl or even any girl, not even Renee Walker, the fittest of the Gryffindors. In their whispered crush confessions from second year onwards, he'd never said, outright refusing at times and going to sulk in his covers. The only real things Sirius had on him were too serious to give him shit about.
"She doesn't quicken your pulse?" Sirius asked. "Stiffen your wand?"
"No," Remus said shortly. Sirius quirked his eyebrows upwards, the next question on his tongue.
"So Lisbete likes James!" Peter cut in. Sirius narrowed his eyes.
"Yes," Remus said.
"And James likes…?"
"Lisbete," Remus said.
"Lily," said Sirius. All eyes turned to James, who threw his hands in the air.
"I don't know! Both? Can I like both?"
There was a resounding "No!"
"Would you have two girlfriends, James?" Sirius asked, and then barked out a laugh. "Oh, you would. Never mind."
"I wouldn't!" James said. "Once I made my mind up, I could only love one person."
"Just one?" Peter frowned. "So you don't love us? Wow, James, I never-"
"That's not what I meant!" James said, tousling his hair. Sirius chuckled, hooking his thumbs on his belt. Main Street petered out into a pathway bordered by long grass and a rickety fence that could only survive that day's weather through magic. Beyond that stretched the muddy fields that made up the Hogsmeade Common, once used for livestock and now a favourite spot for pick-up Quidditch and, if you or your best mate were equipped with the Invisibility Cloak, late nights under the stars talking about things that can only be talked about when four foolish teenagers have had too much squirrelled-away beer.
"Say, James," Sirius asked, keeping his tone of good cheer. "Would you rather bring Lily or Lisbete out to the Common?" Predictably, James' dark eyes bulged and he whipped his head around, as if someone else was going to give him the answer. Nobody did.
"I - Lily wouldn't come," he said. "You know she wouldn't."
"Prefects have to act a certain way," Remus said.
"Oh?" Sirius smiled. "And do you really think McGonagall -"
"What about Cathy?" Peter piped up. "Maybe she likes one of us, and that was why she was hanging around." Sirius stared at Peter, the cogs in his mind turning quickly. Ah. Well. That was useful, wasn't it? But anyways.
"Do you think Lisbete would come?" Sirius asked James, slightly more serious. He wasn't stupid - he knew why James liked Lily, and would've known even if James didn't soliloquize about it once a week. She was stunning and fiery and funny and clever, which was exactly why she wouldn't go out with him. She was every bit as up herself as James was, Sirius thought. If Lily ever even gave James a look that could maybe, possibly pass as liking, he'd lock himself in Grimmauld Place for a year.
As if.
And honestly? He was a bit sick to death of hearing about Lily. There'd been half a dozen girls with crushes on James if Marlene was any reliable source, and he'd never given them a second look. None of them could ever live up to the miraculous wonder that was Lily Evans. Fine. But there were other witches in the world, other bowtruckles in the forest. Sirius just wanted to see James happy in a relationship that was more realistic than Peter captaining the English team and becoming Minister for Magic.
And he wanted another thing to tease him about. But mainly, for James to be happy. Truly.
"I don't know," James said. "Maybe."
"You should ask her," Sirius said, and thumped Peter on the back. "Maybe you'll give Wormy some ins." He got a glare for that, but only a mild one.
"He doesn't even know if he likes Lisbete," Remus said. "You don't have to be in a relationship for the hell of it. That's not fair on anyone." Sirius shot him a look. It wasn't like he was trying to marry James off! Half the time, he thought Remus wanted to become one of those monks, where they forswore women and spent all their time working on wandless magic and harvesting mandrakes or some shit.
"Just ask her," Sirius said. "For fun."
"I would like ins," Peter said. You're a legend, Wormy.
"I don't know," James repeated. "Maybe."
But he was smiling, and Sirius' chest warmed.