Creature Comfort

by ohmygodshesinsane

Look, James is trying not to be an arrogant twat. Lily's been given the role of 'swot', but she has other ideas. Sirius would love to have a normal family, honestly, as would Remus. Severus wants to leave his muggle heritage behind, and Peter is sick of being left out. Growing up is hard at the best of times, and these? These are the worst of times. [1975-1981]

32. a week of worries

A/N: I really hope this chapter is okay! I edited it after the longest day ever, so please let me know if there are any errors. Also, happy 300,000 words!

Content Warning for underage drinking, mentions of violence and death, bullying and attacks, purist rhetoric, and self-harm.

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January 13th, 1976

Lily had spent more time in the Infirmary in the last week than she had hoped to in the whole year. Since they'd transferred Mary from St Mungo's back to Hogwarts yesterday afternoon, Lily had been at her side. Madam Pomfrey had done everything she could to send her away. She'd asked, ordered, shouted, pleaded, and fetched Professor McGonagall, who had threatened to take points and give her detention for not following the Matron's instructions. Lily refused to leave.

"If you get my parents up here," she said, "I'll go." She knew that they wouldn't. After another fifteen minutes, they relented, with a stern warning not to discuss it with her peers. Lily nodded numbly. She hadn't slept since. She kept a vigil over Mary's sleeping body, only leaving the wooden chair for the bathroom and to make cups of tea. Mary slumbered on, breathing shallowly.

They told Lily that Mary was out of any immediate physical danger – the healers had seen to that. She'd been rushed into the Spell Damage ward, and they'd slowly, painstakingly lifted the curses placed upon her as best as they could. Once Mary woke, Madam Pomfrey would contact the hospital and arrange for her mental capacity to be tested. That was the worrying part. Lily chewed her lip so hard that it began to bleed.

Mary lay in the hospital bed, numb to the world. Her blonde curls had become tangled in the rush. Someone had changed her into a thin white hospital gown. Mary's trunk was at the end of her bed – Marlene and Alice Rhysfeld had brought it up – and her bloodied robes were in there, folded and now clean. Lily stared at Mary's face. The purple swelling in her cheeks was starting to go down, thanks to Madam Pomfrey's excellent brewing skills. Most of the scars on her face had thinned to white lines, and Madam Pomfrey said it was likely they would disappear with time. It had been determined they were the result of a hex, not a curse – they'd been done primary to distress Mary and those who saw her, rather than cutting deep.

And who had done it? She'd heard Professor McGonagall and Professor Slughorn talking to Madam Pomfrey. There was no evidence that the castle had been breached, meaning that the assailant was most likely a student. Lily would fight for Slytherin against the prejudices of the Gryffindors any day of the week, and she often had. She'd spent hours of her life explaining how stupid it was to categorise whole groups into 'good' or 'evil, and didn't it make them just as bad as the blood purists if they went about judging people based on who their family was? She'd often gestured to Sirius Black. "See, if people went bad just because their families did, what would he be? Can you really imagine Black as a dark wizard?"

But now Lily knew. She knew it had been a Slytherin, probably one from the upper years, probably one of the purebloods that Snape hung around. They were the ones who went around attacking defenceless muggle-borns. They had the greatest repertoire of dark magic of anyone in the school. But more than that, Lily knew. She knew it deep in the pits of her heart. She knew it in her fingertips. She knew it as a flower knew to stretch towards the sun. She crossed her ankles tightly. Where she would differ from the typical prejudiced Gryffindor, she decided, was in not demanding to see Professor Dumbledore and intelligently jabbing a finger towards the Slytherins and bellowing, "you ought to lock 'em all up, sir!" She had no proof, and no particular name. Where Potter and Black were happy to condemn a whole group for one person's actions, she could not. Because, of course, in that whole group was Severus Snape.

She thought back to their conversation on his birthday. Had he known something was coming when she mentioned Mary? Had he overheard something? Did he sit there and keep his mouth closed, dismiss it all with a "You're not like Mary," like that meant she never had to worry again. She played it over and over in her head. Had he known? How could he? How could he not? She grabbed her cup of tea off the bedside table and brought it to her lips. It was cold. When did that happen? She looked over at the clock and it was five already. Time curdled in the Infirmary. She set the teacup down.

Footsteps. She looked over her shoulder, tensed. Ready. Madam Pomfrey led a first-year in. The small boy trembled and lifted his hand. A red burn scorched his palm. A Potions accident, maybe. Or a hex. He was in Ravenclaw, which told her little. He sat down on a bed. Madam Pomfrey bustled into her office, out of sight. Lily took Mary's cold, unblemished hand and rubbed circles with her thumb. She didn't wake.

"Dinner." Marlene arrived with food wrapped and charmed. The boy was gone. Marlene dragged a chair over from another bed. "How is she?"

"The same," Lily said. "We just have to wait until she wakes up." Marlene handed her a plate of chicken and steamed vegetables. Lily picked at it.

"People think she's dead," Marlene said. Lily gazed upon Mary's lifeless face and scooped up a spoonful of peas. It was all a waiting game. Lily was so tired. Since Christmas, all she had been was tired and afraid. The fear was like a flame; it had burned so long and so hot for so long that it was turning blue and cold.

"Have you seen Sev?" Lily asked. Marlene pulled a face.

"The Slytherins have been giving us a wide berth, and good riddance," Marlene said. "Potter and Black lost about thirty points for going them today. I'm glad they did."

"Yes, that'll help," Lily said coolly. Marlene left with the remnants of their dinner some time later. Lily had another cup of tea and drained it quickly. The ward darkened and the lamps burned bright. Piles of homework waited for her in her dormitory. She didn't think she could cast a single spell if her life depended on it. She was so fucking tired.

"Miss Evans?" Madam Pomfrey appeared on the other side of Mary's bed. Lily blinked. How long had she been there? "It's quite late now. Curfew is in ten minutes, if you would like to go back to your dormitory."

"I'm fine here, thank you," Lily said. Then the weight of the world caught in her lungs. She slumped and covered her face with her hand. "Even if I wanted to, it wouldn't exactly be safe, would it? I can't even go to the loo without worrying about being jumped." Madam Pomfrey's face tightened. She leaned over Mary's body and patted Lily's hand.

"If you would like to go, I will happily accompany you," Madam Pomfrey offered. Lily shook her head forcefully.

"No. What if Mary wakes?" They fell silent. Lily took off her shoes and pulled her feet up onto the seat. Madam Pomfrey tutted.

"Stand up for a moment." Lily eyed her warily. Madam Pomfrey sighed. "I'm not trying to make you leave. I'm out of practice with transfigurative spells is all." Lily got to her feet, standing on her leather shoes. Madam Pomfrey stood and withdrew her wand from her starched white robes. She clearly said an incantation and waved her wand in a complicated movement. The seat Lily had occupied for the day transformed into an orange daybed. Madam Pomfrey conjured a pillow. Lily took it.

"Thank you," Lily said. She sat down, pulling her feet up and setting the pillow at her side. It was incredibly soft. She melted.

"Miss Evans, dear," Madam Pomfrey said, looking down. She rung her reddened hands together. "Do know – do know that my services here are not limited to physical healing. I'm afraid there is little I can do about the rest of the world," she gestured to the oak doors of the Infirmary, "but over the years I've learned a little about healing."

"I'm okay," Lily said reflexively. Madam Pomfrey gave her a long look. Lily didn't squirm. She just stared back.

"You take care of yourself," Madam Pomfrey said, with a note of finality. "Your care for your friends is admirable, Miss Evans. Do try to care for yourself in the same way. Goodnight. Please get me if she wakes." Lily promised that she would, and Madam Pomfrey locked the Infirmary doors.

Lily shuffled the pillow along and laid down. There wasn't enough room for her to stretch out, so she curled in a foetal position. She settled on such an angle that she could see Mary's chest rising and falling, and her pale eyelids shutting the world out. How had it come to this? Lily was certain the last month had been the worst month of her life. The list was too long and her synapses too fried to bother listing everything off. Instead she vowed to stay awake, all night, so that she could faithfully report Mary's every twitch or turn. She fought the embrace of slumber valiantly as her eyelids grew heavy, as her feet dribbled into the daybed. She couldn't sleep. She couldn't.

She woke to the warm kiss of sunlight on her cheek. She opened her eyes, blinking in the marmalade rays. Dozily, her fingers prodded the fabric beneath her. She wasn't in her dormitory, nor in her bedroom at home. Her neck ached. There was something she ought to remember. She yawned and propped herself up, inhaling deeply. She could smell tea. Hair itched on the back of her neck.

Mary's body still lay prone in the hospital bed. A cold stone dropped through Lily's stomach. The sun's gentle caress turned icy. Weight settled in her bones. She had a vigil to keep.

---

January 14th, 1976

James quickly realised that they wouldn't all fit under the Cloak. James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter could normally manage it because they knew how to squish up against each other, and crouch, and work as a many-limbed beast. Lisbete had only been under the Cloak just once, and only with James, and Cathy had never seen an Invisibility Cloak in her life. James swore. Five expectant faces looked at him. He tousled his hair.

"Right," he said. He hadn't planned on having six of them sneaking into Hogsmeade. He also hadn't planned on the entire castle being hyper-vigilant after an attack on a student. He'd almost cancelled the plan altogether. It was only that Mary was back in the Infirmary and Madam Pomfrey was sure she was going to live that it was going ahead. James was often accused of being an insensitive prat, but he wasn't such a dickhead that he'd run out into Hogsmeade while a girl he'd known since he was eleven lay on her deathbed in St Mungo's. Part of him wondered if it was shitty to be going out even with her being okay, but classes had resumed and Ludo Bagman had ducked out the night before for firewhisky, so he figured it had to be alright.

"We can go in twos," he decided, cracking his knuckles. "We can all meet in the Trophy Room – I doubt anyone will be in there. From there, the passageway's only around the corner."

"Sounds good," Sirius said. "What are our pairs?"

James hesitated. "Well, we can-"

"We'll go together," Lisbete interrupted. "Won't we, Jamie?" James scowled at Sirius' snigger. Lisbete put her hand on James' forearm. They all had their school robes over the top of their other clothes, but she still looked pretty. Her blonde hair fell in ringlets. He supposed he ought to go with her, as they were dating and all, rather than with Sirius, as he'd been about to suggest.

"Er – yeah," he said. "So, Lisbete and I…" his eyes fell on Cathy.

"I'll go with Peter," she said. Sirius and Remus exchanged a bemused look. Peter looked slightly terrified.

"Alright," he squeaked.

"So that leaves you two," James said, looking at Sirius and Remus.

"Fucksakes," Sirius said, shoving Remus playfully. Remus let out a long-suffering sigh. James grinned at them both. He adjusted his glasses and grabbed the cloak off his bed. The six of them had gathered in the boys' dormitory after breakfast, waiting as everyone else trickled off to class. The clock on the mantelpiece told him that it was twenty minutes past eight. People would well-and-truly be in their first lesson by now. There was no time like the present.

"Right," he said. "Lisbete and I will head down. Wait ten minutes and then summon the Cloak, alright? We should be in position by then." Peter nodded seriously.

"See you soon," Sirius said. "Don't get caught."

James gave him an affronted look. "When do I ever?" He tucked the Cloak into his robes and set off with Lisbete. She closed the door gently behind them. They headed down the stairs.

"What a sign to put on your door," she said, disgusted. James glanced over. The door to the third-year boys' dormitory had a large sign that proclaimed, 'FUCK OFF, I'M WANKING!' "I wonder who it is. Gross," Lisbete said.

"Who knows?" said James. He and Sirius had attached it to the door as they went down to breakfast. He reckoned Gumboil would blow his top when he saw it. It was a shame James wouldn't be there to witness it. He'd hear about it at Quidditch practice, though. Gumboil was so tetchy.

They climbed through the portrait hole. He pulled out the Invisibility Cloak when they reached the end of the corridor and threw it over the both of them. Lisbete snuggled closer. She smelled like fruit.

"I feel like we haven't been alone in ages," she whispered, as they crept down a staircase. That was true; since he'd come back, he'd been pretty busy. Between Quidditch training four times a week, his sessions with McGonagall, the preparation of the Animagus potion, and the absurd amount of homework the professors had decided to dump on them (even though their exams weren't until June), he'd barely had time to hang out with his friends or sleep, let alone whisk Lisbete off on some romantic date. That was why he was skiving off school to do this in the first place. Peter was convinced Cathy would murder him in his bed if James didn't pull off some romantic gesture, and personally, James didn't fancy having Peter murdered.

"Sh," he said, putting a finger to his lips. "It doesn't stop people from hearing us." Lisbete put a finger to her lips and nodded eagerly, looking up at him with big eyes. He moved faster in the empty corridors and slowed down when they passed a classroom. They'd just burst into the Trophy Room when the Cloak was snatched off him. He turned to watch it. It was but a tiny ripple across the air and he quickly lost track of it.

"Can we talk now?" Lisbete asked. She stepped in front of him, looking up adoringly. He wasn't even doing anything impressive. For whatever reason, he was reminded of Peter. He screwed up his face. He didn't want to think about Peter when he looked at his girlfriend.

"Yeah," James said. He looked around the room and his face lit up. "Do you want to see something cool?" he offered. Something actually impressive; it was one of his greatest accomplishments.

"Ooh! Yes, please," Lisbete gushed. James swaggered over to one of the cabinets and pointed to a wooden shield. Upon it, seven names were engraved in gold. One read 'CHASER', and beneath it, 'JAMES POTTER'.

"That's when we won in third year," James said proudly, puffing out his chest. "I remember the final game against Slytherin. I scored sixteen goals."

"I remember!" Lisbete said excitedly. "I was in the stands."

"I reckon it was one of the happiest days of my life," James said. "I'd never scored so many goals in a match before. And it was my first year in the main team, you know, not as a reserve. And the afterparty was brilliant." He laughed. "I got more drunk than I'd ever been before." Lisbete giggled.

"I wish I could've been there to see that," Lisbete said.

"You'll see it this year," he promised. "We'll definitely win. Nobody's training as hard as we are, and we've got a top team."

"I know you'll win," Lisbete said. James nodded. They had to win – it was John's last year, and there was no way they were sending him off on a sour note.

"Brown's got a new programme for us," James went on. "A new lot of drills. Over the holidays he sat down and planned out our regime from now until March. It's pretty rigorous, but you know, we're prepared for it. And nothing beats being up there in the air, whipping around the pitch…" He lost himself in thoughts of flying. Very few things topped it. He wondered if he could jump off the Astronomy Tower on his broom and fly into Hogsmeade. He'd probably get caught, but if he put the Invisibility Cloak over himself…it was worth a try, he reckoned, and added it to his mental list of things to do before he left school.

He told Lisbete all about the drills John had them doing and what he thought of each of the Hufflepuff players. He was halfway through explaining one of the favourite moves of the Hufflepuff chasers when Peter and Cathy arrived. They were visible as they ran in.

"What happened to the Cloak?" James asked, running his fingers through his hair. Peter shifted.

"We took too long," he said. "We only made it to the fourth floor before it was summoned."

"No way it's been ten minutes," James said, checking his watch, but it had been. "Wow. That went quick." He grinned at Lisbete and she smiled back, fiddling with the gold necklace she wore. It was the one James had given her for Christmas. One hand went to his throat. He wasn't wearing his. Damn. He'd left it in a drawer somewhere. He was pretty sure he'd brought it with him to Hogwarts, though. Probably. He pulled up his collar so she couldn't see his bare neck.

"That's your trophy, isn't it?" Peter said, jabbing a finger at the glass doors of the cabinet.

"Oh, yeah," James said. "I was just telling Lisbete..."

Peter had a lot more to contribute than Lisbete had, interjecting stories of particularly good goals James had scored, and what Peter had felt as he watched James tryout back in second year.

Sirius and Remus arrived last. Sirius threw the Cloak off and chucked it at James, who caught it with a dive. The hard floor winded him. He lay on the floor, dazed for a moment. Sirius stood over him.

"Gone for a nap?" he asked.

"Bugger off," James said. Sirius offered him a hand. He took it and jumped to his feet.

"Right," James said, scooping his glasses off the ground. They'd smashed. He whipped out his wand and quickly put them back together. "Oculus reparo. Good." He shoved them on. "So, ladies, the entrance to the passage is just around the corner, next to Lost Wands. It shouldn't be too busy. Just keep your heads down. I'll open it up and I'll go first. Just do what I do, got it? It's a bit of a slide."

"Got it," Lisbete said, eyes shining. She rubbed his arm. He patted her shoulder affectionately.

"Let's get going," he said.

"Let's," Sirius agreed. "I'm desperate for a pint."

"No," Remus said dryly. "I never would have imagined."

"Fuck you," Sirius said. James rolled his eyes at Lisbete and grinned to indicate that it was typical of them. She laughed.

They slipped into the corridor. James shoved the Cloak into the inside pocket of his robes. It wasn't far to the statue of the One-Eyed Witch. They casually scattered around it, checking that the corridor was empty before he opened up the passageway.

To his annoyance, they had company.

The grandest, greasiest git of all time, Snape, shut the door to the nearby Arithmancy classroom. Remus looked wildly at James. In a second, he had the Cloak out, and threw it in Remus' direction. It landed on his head. Remus sunk to the ground, back pressed against the stone wall, and tugged it over himself. Sirius jumped in front of him. Right now, Remus was supposed to be in that classroom with Snape.

Snape spotted them and stormed over, sneering.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" he demanded, spitting as he spoke. James smiled easily. He slung his arm around Lisbete, looking as if he had not a care in the world but his mates and his girlfriend. Two things Snape would never have. Snape's face shrivelled up.

"Waiting for Remus," Peter said quickly, before James could answer. "We're going to walk to Charms together." Snape narrowed his eyes.

"Lupin isn't in class. Thought you'd keep track of your friend, Potter."

"It's hard work when you have so many," James said. Sirius laughed.

"Wouldn't know anything about that, would you, Snivy?" he said. Snape stared at them for a moment.

"Lily's my friend," he said. "She cares where I go." He looked directly at James as he said this. Lisbete wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. James balled one hand into a fist.

"Fuck off, Snape," he said, eyeing him from head to toe. "You've got shit on your shoes, go clean them, you foul bastard. There's these spells you can use actually, to get things clean. I don't know if you've heard of them, but I reckon you could ask any of the second years, most people have it figured out by then."

Infuriatingly, Snape didn't respond. "You're up to something," he said instead.

"Yeah, now we're about to go find Remus," Sirius said. "So fuck off and go for a piss or whatever you were coming out to do. You're supposed to be in class, not us." Snape gave Sirius the foulest look possible and stomped down the corridor. James craned his neck, watching until he turned the corner at the very end.

"He's such a fuckhead," James said. "Let's get out of here before he comes back. Dissendium." He tapped the One-Eyed Witch's hump. It slid open. James climbed in first. He looked back, winked, and then shot down the slide. He landed in the dirt and got to his feet just before Sirius arrived. "You bastard, you nearly ran me down," James said, pulling his school robes over his head.

"Shame," Sirius said, "I meant to." He pulled off his robes too. Beneath them, they wore normal clothes, clothes they could get away with in Hogsmeade. James had on a trendy brown robe that was fitted to his knees and flared out around his ankles. Sirius' had a similar set, but his were fuzzy, and he slung a leather cloak over the top of it. They threw belts around their waists to nip them in, like they'd seen in a magazine.

The girls came down next, Cathy first, then Lisbete.

"Huh," was all Cathy said. Lisbete was more expressive.

"Wow!" she gushed. "Jamie, this is so cool. I would never have imagined there was a tunnel under the school! People can't get in, can they? Like, bad people? Do the teachers know this is here? Where does this lead to in the village?"

"Honeydukes," James said, answering only the last question. "Into the cellar, anyway." The girls pulled off their school robes and revealed the outfits underneath. Lisbete wore a spotted frilly pink dress, while Cathy sported beaten-up old jeans and an oversized coat. Remus came after them and Peter was last. They all discarded their school things and shoved them in a corner of the passageway.

James led the way down the earthen passageway, steering the topic to Quidditch where he could. The pre-season for the British league would be starting soon, and he was keen to see what the Wasps had up their sleeves. Remus turned the conversation to music, both normal and muggle. The girls both liked that Wakefield witch's songs. Sirius brought up David Bowie, the slick muggle with the rocking music. James liked his sound, but sometimes the lyrics boggled him.

Eventually, the tunnel began to rise. They ended up beneath a trapdoor. James grinned.

"Here we are, lads and ladies," he said. "Shall we?"

Cathy narrowed her eyes. "Where do we come out?"

"Bottom of Honeydukes," James said. "The cellar."

"Shouldn't we check if there's anyone in there?" Lisbete asked anxiously. James laughed and patted her shoulder.

"Nah, we've always been fine. What's life without a little risk? I'll go first." He pulled the trapdoor open. It was only a little taller than his head – if he grew again, he'd have to bend over. He grabbed the sides and with a great heave, pulled himself up. He wriggled onto the floor of the cellar.

"Empty!" he called down. "Ladies first, give them a boost, boys." He knelt down and held his hands out. Sirius boosted Lisbete up. James grabbed her hands. He pulled her through. Lisbete stood up, looking around in amazement.

"We're really here," she said. "You're so cool." She planted a kiss on his cheek.

"It is pretty cool," he said, getting ready to help Cathy through.

All of them got through without much difficulty (though Peter complained that the trapdoor was too narrow and passing through it made him claustrophobic). They stood in the cellar, admiring the boxes of sweets. Cathy, without a care in the world, reached into an empty box and grabbed a fistful of chocolate frogs. She shoved them in her pocket. James frowned at her. Look, he didn't mind blurring the edges of the rules, but most of what he partook in – the drinking and the smoky sessions in their dormitory – didn't hurt anyone. Stealing was different. It's not like Filch ran Honeydukes. And when they stole from Filch, it was usually a matter of stealing back what he'd confiscated off them.

"Oi, Cathy," he said, after a moment's hesitation. She raised her eyebrows. "My parents sent me back to school with a heap of shit. I'll grab you some when we get back, right?" He felt like a twat, but it had to be said. And he really didn't mind giving her a couple of frogs or whatever she wanted.

"No need," she said coolly. James hesitated. Lisbete touched his arm. Remus arched an eyebrow.

"Come on, it's no problem," he said. "My shout." He flicked a finger vaguely to the cardboard box she'd taken the frogs from. Cathy's gaze hardened. Without moving her head, or her steely eyes, she reached into her pocket, grabbed the chocolate frogs, and dropped them in the box. "Right!" James cried, drawing the attention away from her. "Same order as to the statue. I'll pop up first with the Invisibility Cloak and Lisbete, and we'll sneak down to the Hog's Head when the coast is clear. Give us a bit then summon the Cloak back. I'll leave the door ajar so it can get through." The others agreed.

He threw the Cloak over himself and Lisbete, and they crept up the stairs and to the door that led to the shop. He opened it very, very slightly. The shopkeeper was preoccupied with an elderly witch who carried a large wicker basket. A tartan blanket covered the basket's contents, though something small and round appeared to be moving beneath it. He and Lisbete ducked low and skirted around the opposite side of the shop. The bell tinkled as they opened the door and slipped outside.

"Excuse me, ma'am," the shopkeeper said. James pulled Lisbete flat against the shop window. Icy rain flogged the street and pattered against the top of his head. The wind whipped the Cloak around them furiously, slapping it into their faces. Lisbete winced. The shopkeeper slammed the door shut and headed back to the witch. James cursed.

"Hang on," he whispered to Lisbete. They weren't supposed to do magic in the village, but with so many adult wizards around, it wasn't as if the Ministry would be able to tell it was him who had cast the spell. He muttered an incantation, and the door to Honeydukes creaked open ever so slightly – less than an inch.

"Let's go," he whispered. Lisbete nodded.

With some difficulty, the six of them ended up in the alleyway by the Hog's Head. James shoved the Cloak into his robes.

"No more dawdling," Sirius said firmly. "I needed a firewhisky about thirty minutes ago."

"Alright, no more dawdling," James said. "I'll get the first round."

The Hog's Head was a filthy, dingy little pub. Lisbete wrinkled her nose. James wondered if he ought to have tried to smuggle them into Madam Puddifoot's. Nah. They could go there on any Hogsmeade weekend. And they'd be returned to the clutches of their professors in about five minutes. Nobody at the Hog's Head cared if they were students, so long as they didn't make it their business. It was so dark inside that he could barely make out faces. Brown slush clung to the windows, blocking their view of the laneway. Candles dribbled wax onto the tables, burning low. A man with a furry face eyed their group beadily and scratched his pink nose. Remus and Peter made for a table in the back corner of the pub with the girls. James and Sirius headed to the bar.

James leaned against the wooden top and quickly pulled his arm away. The surface gleamed with something sticky. He could feel it on his robes. Sirius snorted. Nobody tended the bar; there was only, strangely enough, a goat. It stared at them with its strange horizontal slits.

"You think he can make a gin and tonic?" Sirius asked. James choked on a laugh and elbowed him. Sirius elbowed him back.

"What do you want?" A gruff man appeared behind the counter. He tickled the goat under the chin and it closed its eyes. James and Sirius exchanged a look. The man had a long beard thick with crumbs and dirt and droplets of some liquid that caught the light. His apron was a dark shade of brown, though James suspected it hadn't always been that colour; a patchwork of stains sprawled across the coarse fabric, dyeing it dark.

"Six firewhiskies, please," James said. The barman looked them up and down.

"Pay now," he said. James reached into his pocket and retrieved his pouch of money.

"How much?"

"Two sickles, fourteen knuts." James dropped the sickles on the bar and carefully counted out the knuts. He didn't think this bloke was the type to be understanding if he was accidentally short-changed.

They took the firewhiskies back to the table and received a hero's welcome. James and Sirius took the middle seats.

"He didn't ask your age?" Peter asked eagerly. James shook his head.

"Didn't even cross his mind," he said cheerfully.

"We ought to do a toast," Sirius said. "To something good."

"Right, good idea," said James. He lifted his glass, and the others did the same. They all looked to him to say something. It took him a moment, and he wondered briefly if it was too serious. Nevertheless, he said it. "To keeping safe," he said.

"To keeping safe," they murmured. The firewhisky barely touched the back of his throat, for which he was thankful.

Sirius bought the next round, then Peter, who beamed from ear-to-ear when he wasn't asked for his age, and then Lisbete, who was too frightened to go to the counter and so Remus offered to take her sickles. He returned with six pints and a jubilant smile. They drank a green beer and took things more slowly – they'd had their first three firewhiskies in maybe twenty minutes. Lisbete and Cathy giggled furiously. James felt fine, really, just a little floaty.

They talked about anything other than Mary Macdonald and the Christmas massacre. At first they swapped stories, and then, as they polished off their beers (James shouted another round, even though his stomach was starting to curdle), their conversation turned into a game. Ten fingers.

"Never have I ever been suspended," Remus said, giving James a cheeky look. He happily put one finger down.

"Never have I ever been a prefect," James returned, when the game came round to him. Remus rolled his eyes and put one of his fingers down.

"Never have I ever had a sister," Sirius said. Peter pouted.

"Never have I ever had a brother," Remus said, when it was his turn again. Only Remus and James didn't drink.

"Never have I ever been on the Quidditch team," said Cathy.

"Never have I ever been a fifth year," said Lisbete. And slowly, it turned into a game of getting James to drink as much as possible with increasingly specific statements.

"Never have I ever had my name start with 'J'!" Peter said.

"Never have I ever been in love with Lily Evans," Sirius grinned, to Lisbete's dismay.

"Never have I ever been a Potter," said Remus.

"Never have I ever had to wear glasses to see," said Cathy.

"Never have I ever been someone's wonderful, amazing, Quidditch-playing boyfriend with gorgeous eyes and messy hair," Lisbete said, kissing his cheek. James had all his fingers down by then, and they cheered as he finished the rest of his drunk.

"Fuck you guys," he said, holding his head, which was beginning to spin.

"Again!" Sirius shouted. The other patrons of the pub shot them dirty looks. The barman was gone, but his goat wandered through the Hog's Head, nibbling at crumbs.

"You alright, James?" Peter asked, leaning around and shoving his face right up against James'. James' eyes water. He could smell the alcohol on Peter's breath.

"Gimme room, Pete," he said.

"Yeah, back off, Wormy!" Sirius said, wrenching him away by the shoulders. Peter smacked his head into Remus' shoulder, and Remus swore loudly.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Moony!" Peter squeaked.

"Moony, Moony, are you okay?" Sirius asked, shoving Peter out of the way. Remus clutched his shoulder but nodded.

"I won't feel it if I drink more," Remus said.

"That's right!" Sirius beamed.

It got worse, but at least it didn't target James anymore. Instead it turned into a bragging competition.

"Never have I ever been in fifth year and not been on the Quidditch team."

"Never have I ever not been on a date in third year."

"Never have I ever have never snuck around with a girl after curfew."

"Never have I ever had worms in my bed."

"Never have I ever been so drunk that I made out with a portrait."

"Never have I ever made out with a portrait, drunk or not."

At some point, Peter got hungry, and they got a mouldy plate of hot chips involved. James couldn't remember if he actually ate one; he and Sirius did fight each other with them, using the chips as wands. Sirius kept using Peter as a human shield, and Remus laughed so hard at one of James' muddied incantations that he fell onto the floor, tears rolling down his face. It was at that point the barman appeared and told them to get lost or …he didn't say what, but later they all realised he probably knew full well they were from Hogwarts.

He couldn't be fucked with the Cloak on the way back, or all the awkward back and forth. Actually, it was a bit of an effort even to get out of the pub. They'd taken two steps into the laneway when Peter emptied his guts onto the cobblestones.

"That's disgusting!" Sirius shouted. Peter staggered into a wall. James slung an arm around him so he didn't fall over. Lisbete started gagging, and she ran down the lane, Cathy on her heels. Then her retching filled the air too.

"Merlin's beard," Peter whispered faintly, wiping his chin. "I feel like I'm going to die. James, I'm going to die."

"Nah," James said. "C'mon, Pete."

Slowly, they made their way to Honeydukes. They tried to look inconspicuous by sitting on a bench across the way. The rain had stopped, but water slicked the street, and puddles formed in the divots of the road. It wasn't cold anymore, though. James stared at the sweetshop. They needed to be subtle. They needed a plan. He narrowed his eyes. He was in short supply of plans.

"What if someone runs in and says there's a fire?" Peter murmured.

"What if we really set fire to something?" Sirius asked, twirling his wand.

"We just need to get him out of the shop," Remus said. James patted his pockets.

"Anyone bring dungbombs?" They all shook their heads. Bugger. James forlornly patted his wand in his pocket. He generally didn't do too much magic when he was drunk. He couldn't think of a single spell.

"I have an idea," Cathy said. They turned to look at her. "Dale and I used to do this when we were little."

It was the only idea they had. James, Remus, Peter, and Lisbete crouched beneath the shop window. Sirius stood across the street. Now they waited.

"I'm going to be sick again," Peter moaned. Remus pulled a face.

"Just – turn around, maybe," Remus said, directing him. Peter faced away from them all. He leaned forward so far that his forehead almost touched the ground.

"Is this going to work?" Lisbete asking anxiously, peeking from behind James. He shrugged cheerfully.

"Who knows," he said. "It'll be fun to find out."

A few minutes passed, and Peter puked into a puddle. Then came the shouts. James looked down the street. Cathy ran flat out, dark hair streaming behind her, cheeks red.

"THIEF!" she cried. "THIEF! THIEF!" Villagers stuck their head out of first floor windows and cottage doors. One sent red sparks into the air. Another's owl flew out the window. "HE'S TAKEN MY PURSE!" Cathy screamed, pointing. At first, James thought she was directing their attention to Sirius, but instead she pointed up the path towards Hogwarts. Shopkeepers bustled onto the street in aprons and hats. Cathy pulled up short, panting. The door of Honeydukes flung open, and the shopkeeper raced out.

"Where'd he go?" he cried, squinting up the dreary street. James dropped to the ground, hoping desperately that they would go unnoticed. Fortunately, Cathy kept the eyeline higher. She flung her arm out towards the castle.

That's where Sirius came in.

"What's happened?" he demanded, rushing to Cathy.

"HELP!" Cathy screeched. "He's getting away!" At once, like a miracle, people began to run up the street, calling for the imaginary thief to come back. One witch went to Cathy. Sirius slung his arm around Cathy's shoulders.

"I'll look after her, she gets nervous around strangers," Sirius said. Cathy hit his leg. "Distraught," Sirius said.

"Well," said the witch, hovering anxiously.

"Please, please, get the thief!" Cathy begged. The witch seemed to think Sirius had Cathy under control, and hurried along with the rest of the town up the path. Cathy widened her eyes at James.

He stood and raced for the door. Cathy made a real show of wailing and screaming, and Sirius shouted comforting words at her. James held the door open and Lisbete, Remus, and Peter ran inside and made for the cellar door. Once they were in, James closed the door and pulled out his wand.

"Look there!" he cried, pointing across the way, behind where Cathy and Sirius stood. The few people that remained whipped their heads around, and he shot off a quick spell that sent a bench flying into the air. Cathy and Sirius bolted. They barrelled into him and the three of them pushed through the door while people were distracted. Honeydukes was empty. They rushed behind the counter and slipped through the door Peter held open.

Remus already had the trap-door open; his head disappeared from view. Peter slammed the cellar door.

"They're going to catch us!" he wailed miserably, looking green.

"You next, Wormy!" James said. Peter staggered across the cellar to the hole in the floor.

"I'm going to get stuck," he said faintly.

"No, you won't," James said. "I'll help, c'mon." He helped Peter through. The girls went next. James and Sirius looked at each other.

"They'll expel you if you're caught," Sirius said, uncharacteristically nervous. James shrugged.

"Even if they do, I've got a fortune that doesn't rely on me pretending to be a bigot," he said. "You go." The words would've been too harsh if they had been sober, but half their current problem was that they were not. Sirius jumped down into the passageway and James followed, pulling the trapdoor shut in the nick of time.

No sooner had they landed than they heard footsteps above them.

"Hello?" the shopkeeper shouted. The trapdoor trembled. "Thief? Homenum Revelio!" James tensed. Lisbete gasped. They froze. He waited for that tugging sensation. It never came. The shopkeeper swore and stomped off. They stayed silent until they could no longer hear him.

"Fuck," Remus said simply. He looked so solemn that James couldn't help but laugh. It was catching; soon enough all six of them were laughing, leaning on the earthen walls.

"I thought they were going to catch us," Lisbete said. "Oh, my father would've killed me."

"Mine too. Literally," Sirius said.

"The world's always looking for an excuse to have me put down," said Remus. James blinked a few times, and then realised what he'd said. He eyed Remus, but nobody else seemed to notice.

They stumbled all the way back to Hogwarts, which took two hours instead of one, with lots of breaks. At one point, they gave up hope and sat in the dirt. Peter curled up and tried to sleep. James leaned against the wall. Lisbete sat down beside him and put her head on his shoulder. Sirius then sat down on James' other side and rested his head on James' free shoulder.

"Look at you, Potter," Remus grinned. "You Casanova, you."

"Bugger off," James said cheerfully.

"Kiss me," Lisbete murmured.

"Kiss me, too, Potter," Sirius joked.

"Shut it," James said, again. He tilted his head back, feeling the warmth of two of his favourite people against him. He smiled sleepily at Remus and at Peter, and they smiled back (though Peter's quickly turned into a yawn). It occurred to him, dimly, that two days ago a girl had been attacked. How weird it was that they could go from terror to tranquillity in forty-eight hours. When he'd been little and his parents had told him about the war against Grindelwald, he had wondered how anyone could go about their lives at all with such a fear looming over them. It sounded so scary. Hadn't they been frightened all the time? How did they go and do things?

Now he knew. You just got on with it, because what else was there to do? They could only march forward. The key was to have something that made you brave; a reason to take the risk. And in the tunnel, in the company of his closest friends, he had every reason he could need.

---

January 15th, 1976

"Can anyone name all the variants of revealing charms, please?"

Remus raised his hand. He sat at the back of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, between Sirius and the wall. Professor Forcier looked over the crowd.

"Mr Lupin?" Sirius nudged him, as if he was deaf. He elbowed Sirius back.

"There's the Revealing Charm – Aparecium – which reveals hidden markings, the Revelio Charm, which reveals hidden objects, Homenum Revelio, which reveals hidden people, and then Specialis Revelio, which reveals spells cast on a potion or object," he said. Professor Forcier smiled.

"Very good, Lupin. Take a point." Remus was pleased, though he knew it was positively swotty to feel that way. Sirius' hand shot into the air. Remus looked sideways at him.

"Mr Black?"

"There's more," he said, leaning back in his chair. "We just don't learn about them in school. There's Malus Revelio, which detects dark creatures, and Animus Animi Revelio, which detects the presence of animagi

"Well done," Professor Forcier said. "I'm impressed. Take two points for that extra-curricular knowledge. So, as Mr Lupin and Mr Black have said, there are many types of revealing charms, some of which you have learned in other classes…"

Sirius leaned back in his chair, cool as you like. Remus started on his notes.

"You always have to be the cleverest in the room, don't you?" he said, underlining his title. Sirius' dark hair tumbled down to his shoulders, and the metal stud in his ear glittered.

"I am the cleverest in the room," Sirius said. Remus' gaze flickered to the front of the classroom, and back to Sirius.

"Cleverer than Forcier?" Remus said, but it wouldn't have surprised him. Professor Forcier was a well-natured, thorough teacher, but Sirius knew of more dark magic at eleven than Remus did at fifteen, just from exposure. It was infuriating.

Sirius smirked. "Much cleverer."

"Than who?" James said, popping his head around. "I can beat the both of you at any of these spells, try me."

"You're on," Sirius said.

"Alright," Remus agreed. They decided how to compete and put Peter in charge of keeping score. The three of them shot spells off under their desks, though Remus made an effort to pick up his quill and write something when Professor Forcier looked their way. He didn't want his Defence teacher to hate him, after all. James and Sirius ended up tying. Remus opened and closed his hands beneath the table.

"Moony?" Sirius said, leaning over. His breath was warm on Remus' cheeks. His dark hair fell elegantly into his eyes. He brushed it aside without a care.

"Yes?" said Remus.

"Rematch?" And he grinned. James had moved on from their little competition and was now folding up bits of parchment into various animal shapes and enchanting them to fly. Peter copied with less success. Sirius' grey eyes sparkled with excitement. It was a chance for redemption, Remus thought. He pulled his wand out again.

"Alright," he said.

They hid their wands under their desks. Sirius summoned a quill and guided it around people's legs, jabbing them with the end of it. People slapped their hand to their calf or thigh as if expecting it to be a bug bite. Sirius grinned. Remus leaned around Sirius and James and tapped Peter on the shoulder.

"Yeah?" Peter asked.

"Got any Bertie Botts on you?" he asked. "It's okay if you don't."

"No, I do," Peter said, and dived into his bookbag. He emerged with a packet in his hands. Remus took it.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." Sirius jerked his wand and the quill soared into the front row. It looped around Matilda Mortensen's head. The blonde Hufflepuff turned round in her chair, and Sirius flattened the quill against the roof. Remus selected a grey bean from the Bertie Botts box and handed it back to Peter, who stashed it away.

"What are you two doing?" James asked. Sirius waved him away.

"This is between Moony and I," he said. James made a rude hand gesture. Professor Forcier noticed and docked a point. Remus charmed his bean so it could fly. The little thing rose an inch, two, three. Once it was at eye level, he sent it out into the world. He darted it in front of people's faces while Sirius' quill nipped their heels. James quickly caught on, ducking his head and sniggering when they particularly befuddled someone. Sirius beamed at Remus, grey eyes shining, and he grinned back, feeling light.

It went on for a good ten minutes, until one of the Hufflepuff girls screamed when the feather of the quill trailed along her neck.

"What is that?" she demanded, jumping to her feet. "Is that a spider?" The boys suppressed laughs. Remus lowered the jellybean to the floor and scribbled some notes off the chalkboard. Professor Forcier frowned deeply and inspected the girl's desk. He found Sirius' quill. Sirius wasn't quick enough to undo the spell.

"Now here's an example of how we can use these revealing charms," Professor Forcier said, as Sirius struggled to get his eyes on the quill. Alisha Chaise's head was in the way. Sirius craned his neck.

"Flipendo," James whispered, pointing his wand at her. She grunted and was thrust forward.

"Specialis revelio!" Professor Forcier said at the same time. He rapped his wand against the quill. Then he saw Alisha's predicament. "What on earth -?" His eyes fell on them. Remus dotted an 'i' with particular ferocity. "Boys!" he barked.

"Sir!" Peter cried, jabbing a finger at something. Professor Forcier whirled around. James thought quicker than Remus did. He waved his wand and a burst of green sparks rocketed to the far corner of the room. It scorched the wall. One of the Hufflepuffs squealed; the others laugh.

"Five points from Gryffindor!" Professor Forcier said sternly, wheeling back around. "This is not on."

He made them stay back after their lesson ended. Remus made himself look apologetic, as did Peter. James grinned nervously. Only Sirius looked as if he didn't care, and Remus figured that was the truth. What did Sirius care if he got detention, or a letter home? Now that he was at Professor Forcier's desk, Remus felt slightly stupid. It wasn't a great look for a prefect to get detention. He was supposed to be dishing them out.

Professor Forcier scratched his greying red beard and sighed.

"I expected better from the four of you." That was how they always started, though Remus thought that by now, the staff really ought to have altered their expectations. "This is hardly appropriate at any time, but in light of recent circumstances, I'm astonished." Remus' stomach dropped. James and Sirius started talking at once.

"We were just having a laugh, sir, bit of much-needed entertainment-"

"It wasn't dark magic, we're not Slytherins -"

"We're not like whoever that fuckhead was – sorry, Professor-"

"If we were going to seriously hurt people in class, we would've had better targets than the Hufflepuffs -"

"Sir, please don't give us detention. It won't happen again." That was Peter. Professor Forcier raised his hand, calling for silence.

"All four of you will receive detention," he said. Remus pressed his lips together.

Peter left them to head to Ancient Runes, and Remus, Sirius, and James trudged down towards the Kitchens so that James could have an early dinner (the Gryffindor Quidditch Team had practice that evening, and James wanted to skip dinner to have a warm-up of his own beforehand). Shame clung to the loose threads of Remus' heart. It didn't seem very responsible to lose points and get detention when he was supposed to be representing their house; it wasn't the sort of thing Lily would do, nor any of the other Gryffindor prefects. He kept his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the flagstone floor. James and Sirius whispered quietly.

They reached the Entrance Hall. A girl wailed. Remus' head shot up, his hand on his wand. James' was already out, and Sirius grabbed his. She screamed, clutching a bit of parchment in her hands. Professor Sprout was already at her side, an arm over her shoulder, murmuring. The girl's face grew redder and redder. Her legs gave way. Another girl around her age slung an arm around her, holding her up. The Fat Friar floated in frantic circles, wringing his hands.

"Excuse me!" The boys jumped out of the way. Professor McGonagall rushed past them, emerald robes billowing. She too had a letter in her hands. An owl squawked furiously, circling above the growing crowd. The Hufflepuff girl screamed again, clawing at her face. She dropped the letter. Her friend picked it up. Professor McGonagall took the girl by the shoulders and said something. Students spilled in from every direction – from the dungeons, coming down the stairs past Remus and his friends, through the door that led to the Study Hall and a menagerie of different classrooms. They carried books and bags and wands and quills and several smaller students dropped their belongings at the terrible, terrible sight. She kept on screaming. Remus' blood went cold. Professor McGonagall said something to Professor Sprout, and the Head of Hufflepuff ushered the two girls down the corridor that led to the staff room. Professor McGonagall turned to address the crowd, white-lipped.

"On you go to class! All of you!" she commanded, shooing them away.

"C'mon," James said, doing as he was told for once. He turned around and made up the stairs. Remus and Sirius followed him.

They headed back to their common room, where other students laid around or worked on homework without a care in the world. They went up to their dormitory. Remus sat down on his bed. James got on his knees and pulled out a stash of sweets from his trunk.

"Who wants what?" he said, opening a parcel from home. Sirius was there in a second and grabbed a handful of liquorice wands without asking. Remus pushed himself out of bed.

"Chocolate, please," he said. James handed him a whole block. Remus tore open the top and broke four squares off. It made him feel a little better. James grabbed a pasty and bit into it ferociously. They sat on the floor at the foot of James' bed in silence until they'd finished eating. James rubbed his face.

"Bloody hell," he said. "D'you think it's like what happened to Mary?"

"Fucking Slytherins," Sirius said. Remus broke off another piece of chocolate and sucked on it thoughtfully.

"It's as if the murders at Christmas made them bolder," he murmured, swallowing. "As if it was a signal." James looked troubled.

"They all idolise those Death Eater losers," Sirius said. "They probably think if they curse enough people in the halls, Voldemort will pull them out of school and welcome them with open arms."

"It's fucked," James said. He ran his fingers through his hair. "I wish Minchum would do something useful for once. Listen to Dumbledore or something. He's no better than Jenkins; she dealt with the pureblood nonsense during those squib marches decently. I don't know why she couldn't have stuck around."

"Did she?" Sirius said. Remus broke off another piece of chocolate.

"What d'you mean?" James asked. Sirius shrugged.

"The squibs didn't get what they wanted," he said. "It all stayed the same. Jenkins made both sides disappear."

"Huh," James said, scratching his head.

"Jenkins was too nice," Remus said, after a long moment. "She tried to pacify both sides. People don't want to be pacified anymore; they want it to be gone. Minchum says he'll make it go away. He's brought in more Dementors, more anti-discrimination legislation, now more rules about part-humans-"

"It's bullshit, Remus," James said. "How does that help?"

"It makes the average wizard feel better," Remus continued. He chuckled darkly. "We part-humans aren't especially popular. They want us to registered and locked up. Minchum's doing the right thing."

"No, he isn't," James said firmly. "It makes as much sense as locking all the purebloods up!"

"Maybe they should," Sirius muttered. "I'd love to see my mother wriggle out of that one." James shook his head. He closed his trunk and rested his head on it, frowning deeply.

After a few minutes, Sirius stood up.

"I'm putting a record on," he said. He strolled over to their considerable collection of crates and did as he said he would. Remus recognised the album from the first few chords; it was an album of Enchanted Zippers' that had come out in their second year. Sirius had fallen in love with it when it came on an odd rock station on the wireless; his cousin Andromeda had given him the record for Christmas that year. Remus had heard the whole thing through about a hundred times. Sirius never grew tired of it.

The music blared, and Remus sang along to the lyrics under his breath, more out of habit than anything. James pulled a face but shook his head along. Sirius, however, leapt onto his bed and started playing an imaginary guitar. He sang the loudest.

"And all these girls tell me I'm beautiful! They like me when I'm running wild, wild. I howl at the moon on alternate nights, it smiles at me like I'm a child, child, child. My ma tells me I should settle down, but I'm never gonna change, no, no, no, 'cause I live for a witch's touch, oh! Yeah I crave a witch's touch, oh! Ow, ow!"

A knock at the door interrupted Sirius' singing session. James got up. Remus glanced at the clock on the dresser. It couldn't have been Peter; he wouldn't be out of class for another half an hour.

"Jamie!" Definitely not Sirius. Lisbete flung herself through the doorway and into James' arms. James held her close and shut the door with one hand. Remus realised Lisbete was crying. The Enchanted Zippers song blared at top volume, but Sirius had stopped his air guitar. Remus strode over to the record player and lifted the needle off the record. Sirius jumped down from his bed.

James stroked Lisbete's hair and led her over to his bed. She sat down and wiped her eyes. Sirius stood next to Remus. They exchanged a look. He wondered if they ought to leave.

"Oh, Jamie, did you hear?" Lisbete blubbered. He sat down next to her, holding her hands.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"This – this girl in my year – she's in Hufflepuff, a muggle-born…"

"The girl from the Entrance Hall," Sirius whispered. Remus nodded in agreement, knitting his fingers together. James and Lisbete faced away from Remus and Sirius, looking at the door. James put his arm around her. She leaned against him. Remus had seen them snog plenty of times, and it didn't bother him, but this seemed more intimate. He took a step back. Sirius gave him a funny look, but did the same.

"She's really nice," Lisbete sniffled. "Oh, James, it's terrible. They can't even send her home!" James rubbed her back.

"That's awful," James said. "What – what happened?"

"People attacked her family," Lisbete said, voice very wobbly. "Well – not people, not really. Werewolves," she said. Remus flinched. Sirius sucked in his breath. But how? Remus thought wildly. The full moon wasn't for another night. How could they know werewolves had done it? They couldn't tell. There was no way to tell a werewolf unless they were transformed.

"How do they know it was werewolves?" James asked, echoing Remus' thoughts. Malus Revelio. The spell came to him like a bad dream.

"Sirius," he whispered urgently.

"Hang on," Sirius said. "I want to hear this." Impatience flared in Remus' veins. He gritted his teeth. His body felt bottomless; his heart fell through an abyss. Malus Revelio, which detects dark creatures. Somehow, Remus had never heard of it until Sirius said it. Was it common knowledge amongst those in the Ministry? Remus typically stayed far away from books on werewolves; he knew more than enough. He knew that there was no cure, and he knew that nothing he read would make it better. From what he had read, in the moments the curiosity had really killed him, and when he had had assignments to write for Defence or Care of Magical Creatures, he knew that werewolves were dark creatures. It was unclear if that applied at times other than the full moon. It was never very clear. Werewolves were werewolves were werewolves, as far as textbook-writers were concerned.

Lisbete shook her head. "I don't know. But they were. They-" she dissolved into wet tears, clinging to James' chest. He kissed her forehead and looked over her head at them, eyes alight with concern.

"The full moon's not 'til tomorrow," James said, more to them than to Lisbete. Remus shrugged, as lost as him. It made no sense. They can't have been transformed. There was no way.

"I don't know," Lisbete sniffled. "But Jamie, Jamie, they – they killed her mum. They killed her mum and her little – her little brother – he was only eight, Jamie, and they killed him!" Vomit lurched in Remus' throat.

"Hey, hey," James said, eyes locked on Remus. "It's going to be okay. It's awful. But you're safe. You're okay." Remus wasn't sure if the words were intended for him or James' girlfriend.

"It's all anyone can talk about – her friends read the letter with her, you know," Lisbete blubbered. Good friends they are, Remus thought. "It was – it was from a H-healer at St Mungo's. She – she – it asked her to, to, go see…she has to – she has-" Lisbete lost it once more. James pulled her closer.

"Sirius, Remus," James said. "Would you mind getting us some tea?"

"Of course," Remus said, heading for the door. Sirius stayed still. Remus prodded his head towards the door and gave him a fierce look. Sirius' eyes hardened.

"Come on," Remus hissed. Lisbete sobbed.

"I want to hear," Sirius whispered furiously. Remus was torn. He had to know – he needed to know any information he could. Had they been transformed? How did the Ministry know they were werewolves? Were they registered? At the same time, he was sure he was about to be sick.

"You will," Remus said, "but not now." As he said it, he realised that if Lisbete knew this much, the common room would be buzzing tonight, he reasoned. And there would likely be more reliable sources of information than a sobbing fourteen-year-old girl.

"But-"

"Sirius." To his surprise, Sirius listened. They headed for the door. He caught sight of Lisbete's face. The image lodged itself in his brain; when he was in his thirties, trying to recall the world as he had known it at fifteen, the clearest picture of Lisbete he would have would be of her on James' bed, hair stuck to her face, eyes and lips red, cheeks slick with tears, holding onto James as if he were a raft and she were drowning.

"And – her dad – her dad can't do it," she wailed. "He's – he's not woken up. Jamie, they – he was bitten! He's one of them! He's one of them! He's a werewolf!" Lisbete coughed furiously and crumpled. James wrapped his arm around her. His dark eyes shot Remus and Sirius an urgent look. Sirius opened the door and helped Remus out. Remus hadn't realised he needed the help. The door shut behind them. Remus leaned against the door – his legs shook, his hands shook.

"Moony?" Sirius' grey gaze fixed upon him.

"Tea," Remus said, looking away. There were only a few students in the common room, but those that were present gathered in groups at the sides of the room. Remus made for the teabags while Sirius put a pot of water on the fire.

It boiled and they made four cups of tea. They took them up to their dormitory. Sirius went to push the door open, but Remus knocked first.

"Come in," James said. Sirius shoved through the door. Lisbete's face was tear-stained and blotchy, but she appeared to have stopped crying. Sirius handed a mug to James and Remus handed one to Lisbete.

"Thank you," she sniffled. "I'm sorry, this is your dormitory. Thank you." Remus shrugged awkwardly. Sirius pulled his earlobe.

"It's okay," Remus said.

"Yeah, you're James' girl, you're allowed in here," Sirius said. She held the scarlet cup with both hands and took a sip of tea. James adjusted himself so he had one arm over her shoulders and could use his free hand to drink. Remus felt James' eyes on him and returned his look. James raised one eyebrow and mouthed, 'alright?' Remus shrugged.

"Lisbete," James said, turning to face her. He stroked her cheek. How did he know just what to do with girls? Remus wondered. Somehow, though James managed to make Lily Evans furious with him at every turn, he had only had one big fight with Lisbete in two and a half months. James couldn't go two and a half days without Lily shouting at him. James whispered something to Lisbete and she nodded. James kissed her forehead. "Right, we're going to head out," he said. He helped Lisbete off the bed. "I don't know if I'll be there for dinner. I'll be back after training, though."

"Alright," Sirius said. They nodded at each other and James left with Lisbete and his Invisibility Cloak.

Remus padded across the floor and sat down on his bed. Sirius sat on his own bed, which was next to Remus'. They faced each other. His body was heavy. That man – that girl's father – had lost his wife and son. Remus couldn't imagine having a wife and son. How many nights had he and his wife spent together? At least thirteen years, if their daughter was in Lisbete's year. Had they been like James and Lisbete? Had he slung his arm around her, had they kissed? Had he loved her? Really loved her? And the boy. Remus hadn't known anyone since they were a baby, hadn't taught someone to walk and talk, hadn't taken anyone for their first ride on a broom, but he knew those were the sort of things fathers were supposed to do. And what happened when you did all that and then watched that kid be torn apart? Had he watched his wife and child die? Had it been quick, just the Killing Curse, or had it gone on and on? There were mutters, always mutters, that werewolves liked to play with their food. Remus didn't know if that was true. He had never killed anything. It made him sick.

"Moony?" Sirius asked. Remus couldn't look at him.

"Bathroom," he said, standing. He locked himself in the ensuite and sat on the closed lid of the toilet. He rolled up the sleeves of his robes and examined the thin white scars that criss-crossed his arms. He remembered his first (excluding the bite, of course). His mother had cried and cried. He ran his finger along the line just beneath his elbow. It had seemed so much larger at the time. He'd woken up covered in blood and had been convinced they were going to have to cut his arm off. It was fortunate that though he had been a small boy, he had also been a small werewolf. If he had been as powerful as he was now, he would've died. He shut his eyes. He couldn't stop himself picturing it. If they'd been transformed, they could've killed the little boy in a matter of seconds. Three or four swipes, one or two bites. There was no stopping a fully-grown werewolf once it decided to kill.

If the little boy's father did not know that by now, he would learn on the next moon.

Remus barely remembered not being a monster. He knew that there had been a time when he had been carefree, and he remembered sitting on his bed on the very first full moon, alternately frozen with fear and screaming for his mother to make everything better. He wondered if it would have been better for his parents not to tell him it was coming. He supposed there was no guidebook for how to tell your four-year-old he was about to go through unimaginable pain and then become a vicious beast for the night, and that it would happen month after month until he died. His mother had tried, earlier that day, to tell him stories about nice creatures in the night, and there had been several about dogs. The muggle bookstores she frequented did not tend to make werewolf books for children still learning to read.

Remus had known for two-thirds of his life that he was a dark creature, at least some of the time. That he was feared. That he was capable of killing, and that people wanted him killed. He had not had the time to grow into a man with a wife and two children and a job and a house and no idea with what the moon phase was. Tomorrow night, a man who had watched the love of his life and his child be ripped to shreds would transform into the monster that had destroyed his life. Remus had been too small upon his first transformation to have any real idea of pain; instead, the transformation had informed his experience of everything else. The Hufflepuff girl's father had probably been hurt before, maybe broken a bone, and would wait for a similar pain to fall upon him. He would wonder if it was as bad as they said; he would try to prepare himself, he would imagine the agony that was going to fall upon him and plan how to deal with it.

It would be so much worse than he could imagine.

Remus' life was plotted by the turn of the moon. James could run away to Patagonia and play Quidditch there if the fancy struck him without a care in the world; Sirius could be a curse-breaker in Egypt and work for forty nights and never again; Peter could take a portkey to Japan and tame dragons; Remus could go nowhere without consulting a moon chart and taking a kit to heal himself with and finding a safe place to lock himself up. He could not commit to a dinner three weeks in advance without thinking, how far is that from the full moon? How sick will I be? Moons and moons and moons stretched out in front of him to the horizon. He had done the maths once. On average, it was believed werewolves lived to forty years (so a third of his life was over already, and he had done nothing of use). If there were twelve moons a year, roughly, and he had transformed every moon since he had been four years and eleven months old, he would become a wolf four-hundred and twenty-one times. Four-hundred and twenty-one times, every bone in his body would break, his skin would split open, his lungs would burst, and he would become a monster.

After all that, he thought death would be a relief.

He opened the cupboard under the sink. There was an empty bottle of firewhisky, an ashtray, one of Dale's bongs, Sleekeazy potions, a vial of Pepperup, shampoo, an acne solution – razors, for shaving. Peter and, to his amusement, Sirius couldn't grow facial hair yet, but James, Dale, and Remus all had to shave semi-regularly. Remus bent down until he found what he needed. He shut the cupboard door. Sirius was still in their dormitory. He could sense it. He pressed his lips together and flushed the toilet. He turned the taps in the sink and ran them briefly.

"Sirius," he said, leaning against the door once the water had stopped. "I'm going to have a shower."

"Okay," Sirius said. "I'll go after you."

"Okay."

Remus ran the shower. He was well-practised in deceiving others. It wasn't something he relished. It was simply an occupational hazard of lycanthropy. He checked the lock on the door and sat back down on the toilet. He thought of the moon. He thought of the dead woman and her son. He thought of the man in the hospital. He thought of the Hufflepuff girl on the verge of collapse in the Entrance Hall, and Lisbete's ruined face as she hung on to James. He thought of his mother holding him in her arms the morning after his first transformation. The terror on her face was almost as bad as the transforming.

He sighed, resigned, and the blade bit into his skin.

---

January 16th, 1976

Wilkes got a Ravenclaw boy from Severus' year. Evan Rosier turned on a small Hufflepuff. Yaxley humiliated a Gryffindor. Mulciber beat them all. Mulciber got Mary Macdonald so viciously that the muggle-borns were frightened to walk from one lesson to another. Mulciber called a self-celebratory meeting the next day, and Severus attended. Yaxley passed around a bottle of wine. They slapped Mulciber on the back, shook his hand, toasted to him. There was no doubt that he had done his bit for the 'effort'.

"They're learning," Mulciber announced, blind drunk, standing on top of a bench in the abandoned dungeon they'd claimed. "The mudbloods are learning their place! They know they aren't welcome! We have to drive them out, boys! That's our job! We'll make this school what it should be!" Yaxley and Jugson had to help him down.

Nobody expected a stunt to match Mulciber's, but they were still required to do something. Severus glowered through the week, thinking hard. On Thursday, Avery vandalised a random corridor, writing vaguely threatening messages that prefects easily cleared off. It was stupid and, in Severus' opinion, did absolutely nothing to further their cause, but to Mulciber it counted all the same. Friday came and Severus sat at breakfast, gnashing his teeth.

"Snape," Mulciber said. He looked up.

"Yes?" he asked curtly.

"You and Rosier – Alfreck, that is – need to act," he said. Goyle sniggered. Snape looked down the table. Alfreck Rosier sat with Regulus Black and Gibbon and looked very pale. Mulciber followed his gaze and sneered. He turned back to Severus. "If you haven't done anything by tonight, you're out." Out; how broad, Severus thought. Out of their little group? Out of Mulciber's favour? Out of Slytherin, out of the school? Severus knew Mulciber was a fool, but also recognised that he had enough power behind him to do any of those things. That was the way of the world, he thought, lip curling. Mulciber had been born a wealthy pureblood. While they remained in school, he had the upper hand. Like Potter. Severus had to play the long game. While they pranced around the school, heads high like kings, Severus would learn. Once they were all of age, the Mulcibers and Potters of the world would meet their downfall. The Dark Lord would have no use for pretty pretenders on either side. He would recognise the talent within Severus and elevate him, and then Mulciber and Potter would be sorry. They'd all be sorry.

"Very well," Severus said.

"You have someone in mind?" Jugson asked, leaning forward. Severus raised his eyebrows.

"Of course," he said.

"Good," said Mulciber, smiling. He slapped Severus on the shoulder. He flinched. His fingers clutched his robes under his desk. It was all he could do to keep under control. "I look forward to seeing what you come up with."

Severus left the Great Hall shortly after. It took him so long to return to normal – he felt like an idiot – that he was only five minutes early to Charms. He eyed the Hufflepuffs coolly and took a seat in the second row. He turned over his possible targets as he arranged his desk. They wanted mudbloods, not blood traitors. Several in his year had already been dealt with. The only one remaining that would bother Potter at all was Lily – and of course, he was hardly going to do anything to Lily. She had been saved by Macdonald ending up in the hospital wing. She'd been in there since Macdonald returned from St Mungo's. Snape had taken her his notes. She'd said something about coming to class today, possibly. He hadn't seen her at breakfast, but his next lesson was with the Gryffindors, so he'd see then if she had made it.

Who else's demise would bother Potter? Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew all had wizard parents. His little girlfriend's family were purebloods (indeed, apparently her father and Yaxley's father were chums). What else mattered to Potter? He was always on that stupid broomstick… One of the Gryffindor quidditch players would do it. Who was on the team?

It took him all of Charms to remember their damned names. Wood was a wizarding surname, as were Brown and Flint and Pomfrey and McLaggen. Bagman's bloodline was muddier, but Severus was fairly sure his parents were magical. Gumboil and Hoover were reserves, he was fairly certain, and he didn't recognise either of the surnames. Grimly, he realised he would have to ask. He caught Yaxley in a corridor – Yaxley had a knack for remembering how all the pureblood families were related.

"Gumboil's grandmother was first married to Delbert Burke," Yaxley said. "I've no idea who Hoover's parents are. He has no other family at the school. It would be safe to assume he's a mudblood."

"Thank you," Severus said, and Yaxley inclined his blond head. Hoover, then. Severus supposed he was younger – he looked smaller.

Lily was in Potions. She came in late, gave Severus a tiny wave, and then was scooped up by McKinnon, who glared at him. Severus glared back. She put her arms around Lily and furiously whispered something to her. Severus made for Padgett, who agreed to work with him, though seemed slightly confused.

"You're very good at this," Padgett said, eventually, as Severus stirred their potion and it turned the precise shade of cerulean it needed to be.

"Yes," he replied. There was no point in denying it. Modesty for modesty's sake was an annoyance. "And you are good at Quidditch." Padgett was a serviceable chaser. He smiled.

"I do try," he said. "That's why I'm on the pitch four times a week." Severus added the next ingredient to their cauldron.

"When did you join the team?" Severus asked casually. Padgett blinked.

"You remember, don't you? Well, I was only a reserve in second year, but since third year I've started as chaser."

"And is that usual? Are reserves usually second years?" Severus focused on the potion. Padgett hesitated.

"Well, yes, usually they start as second or third years – but some are only a year or two below the main player, so they end up being a reserve for three or four years and then only start in their sixth or seventh year. But you can play Quidditch without joining the team – if you know the right people, erm, it's easy to find a pick-up match. They're good fun, even if you play on the teams, I'd be more than happy to play one. I could find out when the next one is, erm, if you want…?" Severus looked up sharply. Padgett wore his plastered-on prefect smile. He thought Severus wanted to play, he realised. Ridiculous. Severus enjoyed watching Quidditch, though he rather thought most of the players were buffoons, but his talent on a broomstick was…well, he had not put as much work into improving as he had in his school subjects, reasoning that Quidditch players aged and were forced into retirement sixty years before a Potions master's eyes and precision waned and he had to put the cauldron on the shelf.

"No, thank you," Severus said coolly. He considered his strategy. "I agreed to tutor one of Gryffindor's reserve players in Potions, but I can't recall which year he's in and I can't find him. Would you know?"

"I know all the Quidditch players," Padgett said easily. "Or at least, about them."

"Great," Severus said.

Padgett divulged. Severus' next period was a spare. The Gryffindor third-years were not difficult to find. In typical Gryffindor fashion, they were boisterous and stupid. The only trouble would be separating Hoover from the group. He was a short boy with dark skin who seemed to share a torso with an awkward red-head. Even as the rest of their group split, the two boys stayed together. The other, Severus realised after following them up a staircase, was also a reserve for Gryffindor. Gumboil, he thought. The one with a pureblood grandmother. He needed a way to separate them.

"Excuse me," he called. The two boys stopped. Gumboil wrinkled his wide, freckly nose.

"What?" he asked rudely. Hoover folded his arms across his chest. Severus sneered at them.

"Is one of you Gumboil?" he asked. Gumboil narrowed his eyes.

"Me," he said. Severus looked him up and down.

"A prefect wants you," he said. "Lily Evans. By the Transfiguration classroom." Gumboil paled. Then he screwed up his face.

"Okay," he said. He and Hoover looked at one another. They whispered and then Gumboil trudged off past Severus, eyeing him fiercely. Severus ignored him. The boys had chosen a rather empty corridor to amble down, for which Severus was grateful. It would make things so much easier.

Hoover adjusted his bookbag on his shoulder and continued on his way. Severus thought it was interesting that he hadn't pulled out his wand when Severus shouted. He would've expected a mudblood to have more sense, what with the recency and frequency of the attacks. Idiot, he thought. It almost felt like a waste to go after such easy prey. But it would bother Potter. He was sure of it. He could ruin Potter's perfect little poncy team.

"Is it true?" Severus called, following Hoover down the hallway. Subtly, he withdrew his wand. "Muffliato." He cast it around himself and Hoover.

"What?" Hoover asked, being stupid enough to engage.

"That you're a mudblood," Severus said. Hoover curled a protective hand over his bookbag and started walking faster. Severus increased his pace. "Is it true?" he shouted. Hoover looked back and broke into a run. The looking back was a child's mistake. Severus aimed his wand at Hoover's back. "Impedimenta!"

"Go away, Slytherin!" Hoover shouted. He tried to run but the hex slowed him down. He struggled against it comically. He lifted his knees high, as if he was stuck in mud. Severus laughed. It echoed off the walls. There was nothing Hoover could do, but of course he wouldn't recognise that. That was his problem, Severus decided; he was too proud and too stupid. Anyone with sense would've drawn their wand and run as soon as Severus appeared.

"Inflatus!" Severus yelled. Hoover's limbs began to expand. His stomach widened; his cheeks grew to twice the size. His eyes nearly popped out of his head. Severus wasn't certain if that was an effect of the jinx. Hoover's feet swelled; his leather shoes strained to keep them in. Hoover shouted, but of course, nobody could hear a thin. His robes stretched wider and wider until they split. Slowly, Hoover began to rise. He writhed around in the air. His legs swung up, and soon enough he was horizontal. He grew larger again. Finally, the idiot reached for his wand.

"Expelliarmus," Severus said lazily. The wand clattered to the floor at his feet. Severus picked it up.

"Give it back!" Hoover demanded. He resembled a swollen bullfrog. Severus tucked the wand inside his pocket; that way, he could prove to Mulciber that it had been him who was behind the attack. Severus conjured a long piece of rope. He levitated it and guided it around Hoover's stomach. He guided it into a knot, securing it.

"How lovely," Severus said. "A mudblood balloon." Hoover gnashed his teeth.

"You lied to Alastor!" he said. "You – you – I'll tell the teachers it was you! I'll tell Dumbledore!"

"No, you won't," Severus said confidently. This was the only part of his plan that he was truly happy with. The others had taken pains to conceal their identity, or else gone heavy on the Confundus Charms. Severus didn't want Hoover to forget that it had been him. What was the point of that? No, Severus thought; it would be good to have eyes and ears in Gryffindor if he ever needed them. Eyes and ears that would not have the same bias as Lily. He needed someone who was too afraid to lie to him.

"You can't scare me," Hoover said. He tugged at the rope around his waist, trying to undo it. Severus shot a Stinging Jinx at his hands. Hoover cried out.

"Hoover, tell me, have you heard of the Tongue-Tying Curse?"

"I can guess what it is!" the boy spat.

"Disgusting. Scourgify!" He pointed his wand at Hoover's mouth. It foamed with bubbles. Hoover gagged furiously. "You can guess. I suppose mudbloods aren't known for their precision. It is fortunate that I am very, very precise." Severus smiled. "What do you know about vows?" Hoover snorted.

"I'm not going to marry you, you foul git!"

"Good." As Severus raised his wand to perform another spell, a grand idea came to his mind. He could not believe he hadn't thought of it before. It was perfect. "I'll let you down," Severus told him. "In exchange for something, mudblood. A favour."

"What?" Hoover demanded. Excellent, Severus thought.

"Just a promise. I like to be informed…"