A/N: Apologies for this late chapter. With everything going on in the world, I've found myself more glued to the news than to my laptop. My own part of the world has been affected by on-and-off power, flooding, and landslides, which has also been a distraction.
Trigger warnings for this chapter include self-harm, alcohol abuse, depiction of an eating disorder, stigma around mental illness and outdated ways of thinking about it, bullying, and references to violence. Take care of yourself 3
January 16th, 1976
Sirius' mouth dropped open. "You're kidding!" he said, aghast. Professor Forcier strode away without a care in the world, and quickly retook his seat at the Staff Table.
"I'm more than happy to switch places," Remus said, cutting off a piece of steak. He looked like shit. To Sirius' disappointment, despite the freezing rain of the last week, there had not been a single rumble of thunder. Not one. That meant that Remus would, again, be transforming alone. Sirius thought it was worse than when there had been no hope of company – when they had accepted his isolation as unavoidable. But now there had been a chance, maybe, just maybe, that things might not be so bad, and it had been ripped away from them. It was enough to make him want to curse someone into next week. It was the sort of thing his mother would do – the sort of thing she had done, in the past. Oh, if you're good, maybe we can go for ice cream. He was never good enough. She'd make him sit there and watch Regulus eat two sundaes. If you hadn't been so bad, that one could've been yours. But no, you had to make things difficult, didn't you?
"Please," Peter said glumly, resting his chin on his hands. "Why do I have to muck out the stables? Professor Kettleburn doesn't even like me."
"I'm sure that's much worse than what I have to go through," Remus muttered darkly. Sirius reached across the table and hit Peter.
"Sorry!" Peter squeaked.
"We're all alright," said James, giving Sirius a stern look. Sirius pulled a face. What, James was fine with Peter being an insensitive fuckwit? Fine, then. Who cared that the whole castle was awash with people whispering about werewolves and how they ought to be put down? So long as Peter didn't feel bad. Remus set his fork down hard. Sirius glared at Peter, who squirmed and shoved a mouthful of pie down his gullet. "Anyway, do we have anything due in Muggle Studies?"
"We had to read that article," Sirius supplied, "about muggle propaganda. And then write six inches about what propaganda is used in the book." James ran his fingers through his hair.
"Fuck me," he said. "I meant to do that last night after practice – but Lisbete was so upset…" he trailed off. Sirius looked over at Remus, who determinedly sawed off another piece of steak. "I swear," James said, changing direction, "it feels like it's turning into a bloody History class."
"Well, it is muggle history," Remus said.
"I reckon it's interesting," Sirius piped up. Peter snorted. Sirius made a rude hand gesture. "Clearwater's a better teacher than Binns. And it seems relevant – don't you think the Prophet's a bit like Squealer?" As he said it, he realised how swotty he sounded. James scratched his head.
"I s'pose," he shrugged. "You think Clearwater will check if we've done it?"
"Yes," Remus said. James scrunched up his face.
"Bugger."
They bid farewell to Peter and headed to their lesson. Sirius levitated a piece of parchment so James could do his homework as they walked. His quill poked half a dozen holes through it. Remus waved students out of their way.
"Four legs good, two legs bad," James muttered. "Sounds a bit like four magical grandparents good, two bad."
"Ah, but James, were the grandparents' grandparents all magical?" Sirius asked. "Hard to know that far back, with all the different lines…best to marry your cousin so you know for sure."
"I always forget about that," James said. Sirius sometimes wished he could forget, though he hadn't known it was abnormal until he'd come to school. As a kid, it had just made sense – after all, your cousins were the girls you'd grown up with. Why would you want to marry a stranger? Though he'd always supposed he'd rather marry a stranger than Bellatrix. At one point, he'd claimed Andromeda and told Regulus he could have Narcissa. He cringed at the memory.
"I feel it's more two legs good, four legs bad here," Remus said, circling back. He shooed a small Ravenclaw away. "All wizards are equal, but some are more equal than others. If you're part-muggle, bad luck. If you're part-monster, bad luck." Sirius' gaze sharpened at the edge in Remus' voice. It was no surprise. Between the headlines and the moon's rapid approach, he had every reason to be bristling. Sirius himself was ready to give the next person who mentioned the attacks a fresh dose of Averitis.
"Will I get better marks if I make some connection to our world?" James asked, cocking his head to one side. "That sounds easier than talking about the book. I only skimmed it."
"Yeah, probably," Sirius said. "It's a decent read, if you have the time. It kept me sane at home."
"It's very good," Remus agreed. "I think Professor Clearwater probably chose it deliberately. Given everything."
"Yeah?" James said distractedly. "Didn't they do it last year?"
"No," Remus said. "I think they did 'Lord of the Flies' for a few years. It's good too; I read it back in second year." Sirius made a note of it. He'd need a couple of good muggle books to smuggle into his house for the summer, when pretty much everything else he enjoyed would be taken from him.
James finished his homework just in time for the class, and they took seats in the second row, closer to the board than normal. There was a bookshelf right next to Sirius' desk. The titles were all muggle: 'The Great Gatsby'; 'Brave New World'; 'Crime and Punishment'; 'Frankenstein'. Sirius had heard of the las one – something about stitching body parts together and re-animating them. Was it really a muggle story? It sounded like a wizard practising some fucked-up form of necromancy. On another row of books was something Sirius was sure had to be magical; a lantern that glowed orange and yellow, with bubbles floating up and down behind the glass. He peered at it, looking for the flame.
"Mr Black?" Sirius tossed his head. Professor Clearwater raised one eyebrow, but he was smiling. "I see you've found my lava lamp."
"It's cool," Sirius said. "Where did you get it, sir?"
"A muggle shop," said Clearwater. Sirius laughed. James shook his head, smiling sceptically.
"No way," James said. "You're having us on."
"I'm not," Clearwater said. "Honestly. The muggles figured that one out on their own. No magic."
As interesting as the class discussion was, most of Sirius' focus went to the lava lamp for the rest of the hour. Professor Clearwater checked if they'd done their homework (beads of sweat broke out across James' forehead, and Sirius grinned at him) but didn't actually read their paragraphs. If you had, you'd know why I'm not paying attention, Sirius thought. Professor Clearwater was busy patiently explaining that yes, most muggles could read and write these days. Bellchant looked bewildered.
"I always wondered how muggle-borns got the hang of it so quickly," he said. Professor Clearwater looked bemused.
"Have you paid attention to anything I've said in these last two years, Mr Bellchant?" he asked.
"For a Ravenclaw, he's ignorant as dirt," Remus whispered.
"He's a real twat," James agreed.
"I think he could do with a bout of Averitis," Sirius smirked. He was in the mood for something like that.
"Nah," said James. "We've already got detention. McGonagall will have me out on my arse if I get into too much trouble." Sirius guffawed, hitting him on the shoulder.
"Prefect Potter!" he crooned. James shoved him back.
"No, Quidditch captain Potter, hopefully," James said.
"Sure, sure. You've gone soft."
"Now you know what it's like when everyone thinks you've gone soft," Remus said to James. James gaped.
"I'm not soft!" he protested.
They met Peter outside the Defence classroom for their next lesson. Remus stared out the window. Sirius sidled up next to him, letting James chatter away to Peter.
"How are you?" Sirius asked quietly. Remus rubbed his face. The anaemic winter light paled his tawny hair. The scars on his face seemed to melt into his skin.
"Oh, terribly excited," Remus said wearily. "I just want it to be over."
"I think waiting would be the worst part," Sirius said. The knots in his chest on the train ride home were worse, in a way, than seeing his mother's face for the first time. Once he was in the moment, he could do something, and the countdown until he was back at school could begin. He could start looking forward to something, rather than dreading.
Remus smiled thinly. "I suppose, though the pain gives it a real run for its money." He looked sidewards at Sirius. "I'm sorry." Sirius frowned.
"What for?"
"We shouldn't talk about it," Remus said. Sirius made to protest, but Professor Forcier appeared at the door and beckoned them inside.
"Oi!" James whisper-shouted at them. "Look, there's no big essay on the board. I reckon today's a practical."
"I still think he's a bastard," Sirius said. "The prat gave us detention."
Sure enough, James was right.
"Please don't get too comfortable," said Professor Forcier, as some of them took their seats. "We won't be staying here today. I have commandeered an area where you may practise your Revealing Charms. Please bring your wands along – the rest of your belongings can remain here for collection at the end of class."
They grabbed their wands and eagerly followed Forcier up several flights of stairs, until they were almost at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. Forcier stopped and spoke to a portrait of a very old wizard holding a large jug of water. The elderly wizard slopped the water down his front.
"Mind you be careful!" he barked at them. "There's been enough nonsense in there already!"
Forcier pushed open the door and they followed him inside. The girls wrinkled their nose. Peter giggled, but for a different reason, and Sirius bit down on a laugh. There had definitely been nonsense in here before – Sirius, James, Remus, and Peter had tried to turn this lot of boys' bathrooms into their own private hide-out in second year. They'd abandoned it after a couple of months, when the teachers began to catch on, and when they'd blown up half the toilets, smashed several mirrors, turned the tap water lime green, and terrorised the portraits outside. The wizard with the water jug had always been an idiot – no surprise he hadn't recognised them. James grinned from ear-to-ear. Remus scratched the back of his neck, smiling slyly.
"I wonder what could've happened here," he murmured. Sirius snorted.
"Who knows," he said.
"Must've been a bunch of troublemakers," James suggested, smirking.
"Now," Professor Forcier said, firing sparks into the air to get the group's attention. Three Hufflepuff girls had started preening in the mirrors, and Amy Brown pulled a cigarette out of her pocket. She paused with it halfway to her lips. "Please don't use the loos. I have carefully arranged some activities for you and I fear that interfering with them may have unpleasant side-effects." Sirius straightened up, listening a little closer. He brushed his hair behind his ear. James twirled his wand between his fingers. "Your first task is a sort of treasure hunt. I have enchanted and transfigured several items in this bathroom, and I would like you all to use Specialis Revelio to locate these objects and return them to me. Whoever finds the most items will win twenty points for their house, and more importantly to you lot, no homework."
Sirius' eyes gleamed. The four of them exchanged an excited look. They could win this easily, Sirius thought. The Hufflepuffs were no competition. The only people they had to worry about were the girls. Amy looked murderous, still holding her cigarette, and Alisha was busy applying lipstick. Marlene, however, had a competitive look on her face. But there was four of them against one of her. The real competition would be amongst themselves – if Sirius could get James distracted, it was a guaranteed win. Peter never stood a chance, and Remus was pre-occupied. Was it shitty to be glad of that? Probably. He was glad he hadn't said it out loud.
"When do we start?" Peter asked, raising his hand. Professor Forcier looked thoughtful.
"Now, I suppose."
They burst into a frenzy. James scrambled, shouting incantations and running in circles. Sirius had a better idea.
"Accio! Accio! Accio!" Toilet rolls and bars of soap flew at his head and skidded onto the ground. He bent down, elbowing Peter out of the way, and rapped them with his wand. "Specialis Revelio." The soap was fine, but something tingled inside him when he rapped the toilet paper. He narrowed his eyes. "Specialis Revelio," he repeated. His chest fluttered, and the end of the toilet roll burst into flame. He quickly extinguished it and ran over to Forcier as fast as he could. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see James rapping an object. Sirius would not let him be the first.
"I've got one!" he declared, bursting in front of Professor Forcier. The red-headed wizard raised his eyebrows. He reminded Sirius of Remus, somehow.
"You have," Professor Forcier said. Sirius handed the roll over. Forcier put it in one of the sinks. "That's your collection, Black, put them all in there."
"Can I do the homework and miss the detention?" Sirius asked casually. Professor Forcier narrowed his eyes.
"No, Black." Prick. James jogged over, waving a toilet brush.
"This one's cursed for sure," James panted. "I spelled it and it tried to hit me in the head." Sirius pouted.
"Bad luck, James, even the toilet brushes can't stand the sight of your ugly mug," he said. James hit him with the toilet brush.
"Boys," Professor Forcier said sternly. "Watch it, or you can double your detentions. Potter, start your collection next to Black, why don't you?"
"What if he steals from my sink?" James asked, dumping the toilet brush in unceremoniously. "Can I put a ward on it? Something that'll make his hair turn purple?"
"I'll turn your hair purple," Sirius said, brandishing his wand.
"Save it for a duelling lesson, you pair. Off you go, or Pettigrew will catch you up!" Forcier said.
"You're on, Black," James whispered.
"Get fucked, Potter," Sirius said gleefully.
"I'll have both of you beat," Remus said, appearing with two things in his arms. Merlin's sake, wasn't he supposed to be an invalid today?
They spent the next half-hour dashing back and forth, frantically summoning things and jabbing them with their wands. Peter dunked a wet piece of paper towel into his sink just as Professor Forcier raised his hands.
"Time!" he called. The class froze. Sirius guided the sock he'd summoned to whack James in the face. James made a very angry hand gesture. Professor Forcier cleared his throat. "Now I'm going to count the objects in your sinks. There's to be no interfering," he said, pointedly. "While I do that, I would like you to reflect on today's lesson, and what you might have learned about the practicality of this spell. Okay?"
Sirius convened with James, Remus, and Peter.
"I got forty-nine items," James told them all, ruffling his hair. "It was a piece of cake."
"What?! Forty-nine?!" Peter exclaimed. "Oh, no, I only got fifteen…"
"Did you get the worms?" Sirius grinned, waggling his fingers. Peter glared at him.
"Ha, ha."
"Don't be like that, Wormy," Sirius teased.
"James, what time is it?" Remus asked, an urgent undercurrent in his voice. Sirius' grin fell. Remus flexed his hands. His face was pale, mottled with short starbursts of red colour. James checked his watch, brows knitted together.
"Two-thirty," James said. Remus stiffened.
"Thank you," he said. "Pomfrey wants me there by three."
"We'll go on the way to Herbology," James said firmly. "Everyone will be headed out to the grounds, nobody'll notice."
"Thanks," Remus said. We should be going with you, Sirius thought. We should be transforming with you. It was tantalising. He wanted to scream. How was it fair that there hadn't been a storm? After all the hard work they'd done, they were forced to wait for nature's whims. How was it fair that Remus had to transform alone when there was another option? Professor Forcier drew their attention, and Sirius hated him, from the top of his black hat to the toe of his boots. The fucker had given them detention. What if they had been able to transform, and he'd tried to force them into missing it? Into letting Remus tear himself apart on his own? I'll never let that happen, Sirius vowed. Fuck them. Fuck detention. Nobody will stand in our way.
"It seems we have a tie," Forcier said, his stupid, ruddy face broadening with a smile. Sirius wanted to curse his nose off. To turn his red hair into flames. "Potter and Black, well done. Twenty each."
"I thought you said you got forty-nine!" Peter whispered furiously, as Sirius and James were beckoned to the front.
"Given that you're from the same house, Gryffindor will gain twenty points. And both of you have no homework from today, so you will be able to enjoy your detentions without that concern," Forcier smiled. Bastard.
"Just what I wanted," Sirius muttered.
"Cheers, sir," James laughed.
They traipsed back to their classroom, where Forcier gave them an activity to practise and a couple of questions to answer by the next lesson. He kept them a little over time, and they ran out of class as soon as he dismissed them. The Ravenclaws and Slytherins were already outside. Snivellus was amongst them.
Sirius wrinkled his nose. "What the fuck is that smell?" he asked, making a show of being disgusted. "That's foul." James and Remus were already halfway down the corridor, but Peter was at Sirius' side, and he caught on.
"That's putrid!" he said, poking his tongue out.
"Where do you think it's coming from, Wormy?" Sirius asked. He ran his eyes across the crowd until they landed on Snivellus. He smirked. "Oh. That makes sense. Stinkerus Snape."
"Stinkerus!" Peter snorted. "That's about right!"
"Oi, come on!" James shouted, doubling back to meet them. Remus stood by the window, scratching his arm. "What's the hold up?"
"Prissy Pettigrew's about to piss himself," Snape sneered. "Look at him." Peter was dancing about. He stopped dead. Sirius stepped forward.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Stinkerus? You'd mop it up and rub it on yourself like cologne," Sirius said. James' demeanour changed as he drew closer; he began to swagger. He threw his elbow onto Peter's shoulder and leaned against him.
"'Ello, 'ello, Sniv," he said. "Is that what you're so keen on potion-making for? Making piss cologne? Here I was, thinking you were just trying to figure out how to slip girls love potions!" Two Ravenclaw boys sniggered.
"You'd know all about love potions, wouldn't you, Potter? Getting your famous father to brew them up so you can get yourself a first-year girlfriend," Severus said. James' cheeks flushed. Sirius laughed loudly.
"Bit of projection there, Stinker. Except your father's not famous or wealthy, is he? Actually, I don't know of any Snapes…" Sirius didn't give a fuck that Severus' father was a muggle (Evans had let it slip to them in first year, and they'd cherished the detail like a long-lost brother).
"Would you like to talk about family, Black? Should we start with the mother that hates you, the father for whom you are his greatest shame, or the brother who wishes you were never born?" Sirius lunged at him. He grabbed a chunk of his hair and landed a blow to his shoulder. Snape whipped his wand out, but Sirius was already being pulled bodily away.
"Sirius, come on," James hissed. Sirius reached for Snape, but he'd backed up right against the wall.
"Let me get at him," Sirius growled.
"Leave it," James said, pushing him back. "Go to Moony. I'll handle Snape." Anger burned hot in Sirius' wrists, but then he caught sight of Remus. He was still scratching his arms, face fierce. He'd rolled one sleeve of his jumper up, though the long black sleeves of his robes mostly hid his arm. It was only the slightest movement, the briefest moment that revealed the bare flesh of his forearm to Sirius, and the angry red lines striping it. Sirius moved towards him as if in a trance. They weren't the marks of a werewolf. They were -
"Aguamenti!" Water spurted from the end of James' wand, covering Snape from head-to-toe. Vane and Padgett stepped forward, prefect badges glinting on their chests. Meadowes drew her wand. Snape's hair dripped. His face contorted into something unearthly. Before he could say a word, James had cast another spell, tinting the water yellow. The two Ravenclaw boys sniggered, a blonde girl gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth, and Avery pointed and laughed openly, with no regard for his housemate. Peter cackled
"Did you have an accident, Sniv?" James asked, smiling sweetly. "Go change your pants." The door to the Defence classroom flung open; Professor Forcier looked furious. James shoved his wand in his pocket and he and Sirius and Peter ran. Remus tugged his sleeve down and sprinted down the corridor with them. It quickly became clear there would be no pursuit, and they stopped. Remus panted as hard as Peter, clutching his side. He straightened up and swayed slightly.
"Fuck, Moony, are you okay?" Sirius asked.
"Fine," Remus said swiftly. He steadied himself. "At this rate, you're going to be late. I'll just go."
"No," James said. "We want to come with you." Peter closed his mouth, which he had opened probably to make some twat-headed comment.
"Yeah. It's not like they can give us two detentions on one night," Sirius grinned.
"Actually-"
"Pete."
"Just don't complain about it to me," Remus said. They made it to the hospital wing with time to spare, in Sirius' opinion – their lesson had only started five minutes ago. They stopped outside the doors and checked that they were alone.
"Good luck," James said, and pulled Remus into a hug. Sirius' eyes lingered on Remus' left arm, and the grey wool covering his spangled scars. His arm stuck out at an odd angle as he returned James' hug with the other. Peter didn't hug, but clapped his hand in a pompous sort of shake. Again, Remus' left arm hung limp. How fresh were the scars? Would the wolf make it worse, or would the freaky regenerative powers heal it with the rest of his injuries?
"I hope it's not too bad," Peter said. "Maybe it'll be better this time. Try to think of good things." Remus' jaw twitched. Sirius inhaled sharply.
Then it was his turn to bid Remus farewell. They looked at each other. James didn't always go in for a hug – on days when Remus hadn't been clutching at his side or wincing, he sufficed with a friendly arm around the shoulder. On other occasions, Sirius had his hands full, or Remus did, or Madam Pomfrey was already at the door, or – fucksakes, on other occasions, Sirius usually didn't think about it this much. He was being a girl.
He clapped him on the shoulder, gently, like James was wont to do. Awkwardly, with his left hand, so he didn't get Remus' shit arm.
"We'll see you tomorrow," Sirius said. "Do you want chocolate?"
Remus actually smiled. "Loads. Please."
They lost points from Sprout for being tardy, but that was neither here nor there. It was a practical lesson, meaning they all ended up filthy. Sirius levitated clumps of dirt to fall down the Hufflepuffs' robes, but did so without much interest. Was he supposed to do something about Remus' scars? It seemed nosy. If they were really a problem, Madam Pomfrey would deal with them. It was the self-inflicted bit that baffled Sirius – and they had to be self-inflicted. If someone had cursed Remus like that, they'd know. He understood the urge to hurt, and to be hurt – why else would people pick fights, or hex others, or smash things on the ground or pummel their pillows into oblivion? But Sirius had never had the urge to cut himself up in neat little lines. He supposed it was Remus' business. So was the werewolf thing, but that was different – them knowing, and Remus knowing they knew had been helpful. They were able to cover for him, and now they had devised a plan to make it better. What was Sirius knowing, and bringing James and Peter into the knowledge, going to do? Would they all have a group cry about it? It wasn't as though they could stop Remus from doing it. Besides, Sirius had a nasty feeling that if he was to bring up the issue, something about his drinking would be mentioned. Because that was coming up now and again, lately.
It wasn't as though it was an issue. Look at him – he could speak to teachers, get to his classes, and still do better magic than the rest of his cohort. And it wasn't as if he was drinking a lot. James' friend, the one from the Quidditch team with the blond hair and the name he could never remember, had bought Grindylows back with him last time instead of Firewhisky. The Grindylows were a sort of beer, and they were barely more alcoholic than butterbeer. He had one or two of those in the morning, smuggled into breakfast in the mug James had given him last year, which magically expanded to fit any volume of liquid poured into it. Then, before dinner, a nip from his half-empty Firewhisky bottle, and then a Grindylow when they got back, and then a shot of Firewhisky before bed, to help him sleep. His routine was as regimented as James' Quidditch practices. The only deviation was the extra Grindylow at lunch, if they spent most of the hour up in Gryffindor Tower instead of roaming about the castle. And sometimes, if they were working on an annoying assignment during a free period, he'd have another. Come to think of it, he was running low on Grindylows. He'd have to get James to talk to the Quidditch player to get some more. It was never a problem so long as Sirius could pay. He always could.
They pulled off their dragonhide gloves and left the greenhouse, trudging up the sloping lawn back to the castle. The rain was persistent, and James ran through a puddle and soaked the hems of their robes. Sirius pushed him over, and the mud went right up his back. He threw a glob that landed on Sirius' cheek. Amy and Alisha snorted as they walked past, and Marlene stuck her tongue out at them.
"Have you all shat yourself?" she called cheerfully, giving them a wide berth.
"Of course we have! Haven't you, McKinnon, you loser?" James shouted back.
"Come on, McKinnon, match us!" Sirius yelled.
"I might really shit myself! I've got detention with Kettleburn!" Peter added. Marlene passed them by. The Hufflepuffs came next, with one of the boys casting a Shield Charm (a decent one, for a Hufflepuff, which was surprising, given their total lack of brains) and the girls cowering behind it, as if afraid James and Sirius might start hurling mud at them.
"Piss and shit," James remarked, as they wove through the corridors to their common room. "Forcier's lesson in the toilets had a bad influence on us."
Sirius had his customary nip of Firewhisky early, and they changed into old robes and cloaks for their detentions. Peter ducked into the adjoining bathroom, and James caught Sirius' eye.
"I reckon we should try these out," he said, flashing a piece of glass at him. Sirius' heart soared. It was James' mirror. He threw open the lid of his trunk and pulled his out of the cloak he had wrapped it in.
"You reckon?" Sirius smiled.
"I reckon," James agreed. They stowed the mirrors in their pockets and shared knowing grins as Peter opened the door and grabbed his dirty gloves. The mirror felt hot in Sirius' pocket, and he was gripped by the mad urge to run around the castle and see just how well it worked. But they couldn't while Peter was around – he'd throw a fit, and suddenly they'd all be lugging three mirrors everywhere they went, so they could talk to each other whenever. It was better off a secret. He still couldn't believe that James had been given a pair – Sirius had heard of them before, but they were terribly rare and terribly expensive. Not worth the effort when you could simply floo them, his mother said.
James had quietly given him the gift on their first night back at school.
"Dad gave me these," he'd whispered, pressing one into Sirius' hand. His brown eyes were full of uncharacteristic solemnity. "It's a pair. Say my name into it." Sirius took the mirror, and James pulled out another, his own. They were identical in every way. Sirius gave James a quizzical look, and then stared at himself in the mirror.
"James Potter," he whispered. Dimly, he heard his voice echo. The surface of the mirror rippled, and he could see James' face.
"You can hear me?" James asked. His voice came through the mirror, tinny but recognisable.
"I can hear you," Sirius confirmed. His eyes met James'. "How far away from each other can we be? What's the range?"
"At least Godric's Hollow to London," James said. "We checked."
Sirius couldn't express what he wanted to. As girly as it was to admit it, Sirius loved James like a brother; or the way he thought he should've been able to love Regulus, without the seeping poison of his mother's influence forcing them apart. They competed without bitterness, they fought without malice, and they understood each other in a way that shouldn't have been possible for two boys from very different families, with very different childhoods and very different outlooks. Sirius understood that James was the morning, glowing gold, bright and optimistic and the wished-for child, leading the way as the day begun. James, in turn, seemed to understand that Sirius was the sunset, angry and at times violent, conversely deep blue and melancholic and streaked with dark grey clouds, clinging to the light wherever he could but not born for it. It had been decided a long time ago – the day they met, really – that wherever James went, Sirius would be at his side; not following, but in step. If James hated someone, Sirius did too, and if Sirius wanted something desperately, James would make it happen. He often thought that when they were as old as Dumbledore with grey beards to their knees, they'd abandon their faceless wives and make one last run for it, Potter and Black, and they'd die in some very stupid accident doing something they were far too old for. He couldn't imagine them not going together; it seemed impossible that for eleven long years, they had not known each other at all. It was some comfort that they would have eleven more lots of eleven years, at least; that would nearly make up for it.
Now, they left the tower with Peter. He headed to the grounds, and James went with him down the stairs, making for the Trophy Room. James and Peter waved, and Sirius waved back. He walked to the Astronomy Tower alone. It never stopped feeling unreal that Remus was in a little shack in Hogsmeade in agonising pain, and he was safe inside the castle, just because of some maniac running around when they'd been younger.
Professor Oddpick met him in the tower.
"Forcier's detention?" he asked gruffly. Sirius nodded. "I thought so. I would like you to clean the school telescopes and astrolabes. Mind that you do not break the astrolabes, some of them are very old." He led Sirius to a storage room, which was full of various astronomical devices. "Cloths in the bucket," he said, pointing at a very old metal bucket. "I'll collect you before dinner." Before Sirius could say anything, Oddpick waddled out and locked the door. He'd forgotten to confiscate Sirius' wand. He really was going senile.
Sirius grabbed another bucket and flipped it over, sitting down. He dragged the bucket of water and cloth over and grabbed one of the telescopes off the rickety shelves. It was small and hand-held, and scuffed and scratched all over, with a fine layer of dust covering it. He held it up to one eye. Fingerprints on the lens blurred his vision. He set it down, wrung out the wet cloth, and got to work.
"Sirius? Sirius? Sirius?" After five minutes of cleaning, Sirius heard James' voice from his pocket. Sirius pulled out the mirror, glimpsing James' messy dark hair. He cast a Hover Charm on it so that it floated in front of him.
"I can hear you," Sirius said. James smiled. It was strange, seeing his face, even though he was somewhere else – and in colour, not as shifting, crackling coals. James appeared to be sitting down on his knees, and behind him was a stretch of floor and then the other side of the Trophy Room.
"It's working!" James exclaimed. "Brilliant. I've popped you in the cabinet. You're next to the Defence trophy."
"Does that make me a trophy?" Sirius asked. He struck a lewd pose, and James laughed.
"Definitely," he said. "But you can polish yourself off, I'm not doing that." Sirius snorted. He got an uncomfortable close-up of James' tie, and then he re-appeared in the frame, holding a new trophy. " "For Charms," James said. "Merlin, it's fifty years old."
"Well, the school's nine-hundred years old, what do you expect?" Sirius asked. James shrugged.
"How's your detention?" he asked, beginning to wipe down the trophy. Sirius smirked.
"Good," he said. He pulled out his wand and held it up to the mirror. "Look what I've got."
James goggled. "You bastard! How?"
"Oddpick's gone soft in his old age," Sirius shrugged. James shook his head.
"I was wondering what you'd put the mirror on," he said. "Hover Charm? You lucky twat."
They got to work, making comments here and there, or half-witted expressions. Sirius' mind wandered as the work grew rhythmic. Of course, it wandered under the Whomping Willow, down the tunnel Remus had described for them once, and into the shack that was now called the most haunted building in Great Britain because of the torture Remus endured every full moon, and the screams that accompanied it. He'd touched on the thought before, just briefly, that becoming animagi and being there for Remus would likely mean they'd witness his transformations. It was unimaginable. Peter had asked, when they'd spoken about it, will there be lots of blood? James had changed topics after that and it hadn't come up again. Sirius thought the answer was probably. They would see Remus' human form entirely destroyed.
"James?" Sirius said suddenly. James stopped scrubbing and looked up.
"Yeah, mate?" he asked, a hint of concern in his voice. Sirius tried to find the words. He didn't want to implicate Remus. He paused for a long time. "Sirius?"
"Yeah," he said. "Weird question."
James snorted. "Aren't we past that? I thought we crossed that line when we were twelve. I've shaved your underarms, Black, nothing else you say or do can weird me out." That was true. In their defence, they'd been a little drunk and very new to drunkenness, and it had been a dare.
"Ah, I miss the days of having a personal shaver…" Sirius said wistfully. Then he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. It stuck. He went for it. "What do you do, when you get angry?"
"Oh, I dunno." James pushed his hair back, looking thoughtful. Sirius bit back a wry comment. "Depends. Might see if Lisbete's up for a snog, or I might take my broom out. Work myself a bit hard at practice. Jinx Snape." He grinned. "You know, I've always wanted to sneak into the Slytherin dormitories…"
Sirius laughed. James kept wiping a trophy. "Nah, but we can do something, if you want. What are Friday nights for?"
"I'd feel shitty," Sirius said immediately, "with Moony and all."
"Fuck." James looked glum. "Yeah. You're right. Sorry."
Sirius rubbed the lense of the telescope harder. "We could've been there. If it had stormed, we would have been there. He wouldn't be on his own." James ran his fingers through his hair.
"I know. It's bloody unlucky."
"I can't stop thinking about it," Sirius said, looking away from the mirror. He pressed against the glass lense as hard as he could. "Fucking right now, he's tearing himself apart. Ripping himself to pieces." Once he'd pressed the glass so hard he was certain it was only a moment from cracking, he started wiping the tube. He was thankful he was in the dusty old classroom and not on the rooftop. He thought he would've lost his wits if he could see the full moon.
"It's fucked up," James said, after a long while. "I don't know how Moony does it. I think I would've gone mental by now. I'd be in St Mungo's for cert." Sirius' insides clenched. He tried to focus on wiping back and forth, back and forth. Left to right.
"What's it even like to be mental?" Sirius mused. "It can't all just be sprouting bullshit and having fits." James shrugged.
"Dunno. I've heard of people hexing everyone they see, or hexing themselves, even. Flying up to high points, then chucking their broom off and following it down. Not knowing who's their friend and who's their enemy. I wouldn't be able to tell you from Snape." James shuddered. Sirius scratched his lip.
"Hexing themselves?" he asked, casually. "Why would someone do that?"
"I dunno, do I? I'm only mad about Quidditch," James laughed. Sirius laughed too, in an awkward sort of way, and shoved the telescope back onto the shelf. He grabbed another. I don't know how Moony does it. I think I would've gone mental by now. Hexing themselves, even. But Remus wasn't mental. He went to his lessons and got decent marks, he walked and talked and seemed like a normal person. He wasn't a drooling mess, or insane and paranoid. The only sign at all that something was off-kilter were the lines on his arm. It didn't make sense.
Fuck it, he thought. What was he supposed to make of it?
January 18th, 1976
On the sixth day, Mary rose from the dead. Or so they told her. They told her a great deal, and she remembered none of it. She did not remember being transferred to St Mungo's, where a team of Healers worked tirelessly to reduce the damage to her brain. She did not remember coming back to Hogwarts. She did not remember Lily Evans camping out by her bed day and night, though Lily was the first person she saw when she woke up.
"Mary," Lily gasped, leaning over. Mary could not sit up. She had barely managed to open her eyes, and the effort it took was so great that she was not sure she could last long. "Oh my god." Tears fell into Lily's cheeks, and she enveloped Mary in a tight hug. "Oh my god. Oh my god. Mary." She smelled like vanilla and their dormitory. Mary mustered up all the strength she had and hugged her back.
"Lily," she breathed. Her voice was barely more than a croak. Her throat was sore. "How long?"
"It's Sunday now. Nearly a week," she said. A week. Lily sat up. Mary pressed her cheek into the warmth of the pillow. She'd been on her way to Divination – and then –
"I don't remember," she told Madam Pomfrey and the Headmaster an hour later. They had sent Lily away – apparently it was the first time she had listened to them since Mary had arrived – and closed the curtains around Mary's bed. They pulled up chairs. Professor Dumbledore offered her a sweet, which Madam Pomfrey refused on her behalf. For now, she was on liquids. Mary wondered how many calories were in the potions she'd been fed, and then felt stupid. They've kept me alive, she reminded herself. And they'd surely been less fatty than the meals served in the Great Hall. Probably. But she didn't know, and it frightened her, gnawing at her insides. It induced more anxiety than the thought of all the work that would have piled up in her absence.
"You didn't notice anyone else in the corridor, or in the North Tower?" Professor Dumbledore asked seriously. His blue eyes were intense. She squirmed under his gaze.
"I don't know," she said. "It's all topsy-turvy."
That was a lie. Professor Dumbledore asked a few more questions and left with his mouth in a deep frown. Madam Pomfrey left Mary to rest. Mary rolled over and propped her head up with a pillow so that she could see out the window. Rain battered the glass. She felt all of four years old again and barracked for winners in raindrop races. She rarely picked correctly. She wasn't sure if she fell asleep or just into a sort of haze. Distant clangs startled her, as did the coming and going of students through the Infirmary doors. Her stomach clenched tightly. She hugged the pillow beneath her.
She didn't remember what had happened after the first curse had been thrown. But she knew what had happened beforehand; the tall boy, Dorcas at the top of the stairs, going through the trapdoor, Mary's head spinning like a top. To say what had happened out loud made it sound stupid, she thought. Like it had been her fault. Her heart sunk. She hadn't fought back. She hadn't thought to fire a single spell. She'd been consumed by terror. What sort of Gryffindor was she? Not for the first time, she thought she would've been better off in Hufflepuff.
She was too much of a coward to tell the Headmaster who had done it. She remembered his face brilliantly now, and a name had drifted across her consciousness, maybe from his magic. She opened her mouth to whisper the name to herself, just to see if she could. Her stomach knotted. She realised that if she told, she would be in danger as soon as she left the hospital wing. He'd be after her again. Or after Lily. He'd said something about Lily, hadn't he? Her head hurt. There was a glass of water on the bedside table. She reached out for it. She got her fingers around it, but her shoulder screamed. What had happened to her shoulder? And she was panting. Nothing hurt while Mary laid in bed, still, but the moment she moved, her muscles turned to flames. She sniffled. With a shaking hand, she brought the glass to her mouth, and got a few cool mouthfuls down. It spilled across the white bedcovers. She set it down on the table and slumped into the mattress. In a moment, she was asleep again.
She woke to the oak doors slamming. The light had shifted, but only slightly. The rain was heavier. Her arm still hurt. She stared miserably at the curtains around her bed. What had he done to her? What had he cursed her with? There'd been too many, and she'd never been good at Defence; she couldn't recognise them. How long would she be in the Infirmary? At least you'll lose weight while you're in here, a little voice said. The longer you go only on liquids, the skinnier you'll get. Maybe by the time she left, she'd be slighter than Marlene, than Florence Diggory. Everyone would look at her, because of the attack, but they'd realise she was the prettiest girl at Hogwarts. They'd be sorry they ever ignored her. But then they'll talk to me, she thought miserably. I don't want them to talk to me. I just want to be thin. She could go shopping in Hogsmeade and get any clothes she wanted – there'd be no more 'ooh, we don't have that in your size'. Or if there was, it would be easily fixed with a Shrinking Charm. It was much easier to make something smaller than to make something bigger. She slipped her fingers around her other wrist. The tips of her thumb and her middle finger brushed each other. A thrill rose inside her. Mary loved that; it made her feel invincible.
Madam Pomfrey poked her head through the curtains a short while later. A white cap sat atop her brown curls.
"Miss Macdonald," she said. "I'm glad you're still awake." Mary nodded weakly, and wondered If her short doze had been a bad thing. "How are you feeling?"
"Tired," Mary said. Madam Pomfrey nodded.
"That's to be expected. Anything else?" Mary shook her head. Madam Pomfrey's expression flickered, but she pressed on. "I'm just going to do a couple of spells now, to see how your body is managing. Then I'll have some potions for you. Are you experiencing any pain?"
"Only when I move."
"Mm. Any particular areas?" Madam Pomfrey raised her wand and began muttering incantations. Mary felt curls of magic in her stomach, in her wrists, in her chest. Parts of her body began to glow different colours. Madam Pomfrey held a piece of parchment and tapped her wand against it. Black runes appeared on the page. Mary had no idea what they meant.
"My upper arms," she said. Madam Pomfrey nodded as if she already knew this.
"I'm going to give you a potion that should help with your muscle pain," Madam Pomfrey said. "Now I want to do a general check-up. Are you able to get up?" Mary did so, very slowly, leaning on the Matron for support. It reminded her of going to the doctor at home; it was surprisingly normal. Madam Pomfrey used her torch to check Mary's eyes and ears, took her pulse, and conjured a measuring tape to get her height.
Then came the scales. They were bronze, but otherwise like the ones at home. She stepped on. It took a moment, the dial moving, and then it landed. She sucked in her breath. The first number was different. Her eyes widened. She looked over, expecting Madam Pomfrey to say something, but she just jotted it down.
"Thank you, Miss Macdonald," Madam Pomfrey said. "This is, of course, not your usual condition, but I hope it will give us some idea as to how your recovery is going." Madam Pomfrey helped her back to bed, and returned after a few minutes with another two potions for her to drink. The first was acidic and burned her tongue; the second was salty, and she gulped down water afterwards. Finally, Madam Pomfrey left her to rest.
Mary rolled onto her side, folding her hands over her stomach. She let out a long, tired sigh and drew her knees up closer. I've been attacked, she thought, and it was as if she was hearing the news for the first time. It didn't feel real. Her worst nightmare had come true, and to her surprise, she wasn't even crying. She didn't know if she could cry. Her face felt numb and tingly. You've been attacked, she told herself, trying to feel something. But she was just tired. She wanted to go to sleep. You had to go to St Mungo's, and they told your parents, and Lily stayed in here with you the whole time. You could've died. It sounded made-up. She thought about her parents. Had they visited? Had they wanted to? She turned her head, checking for a letter or flowers or some sign that they'd been there, or sent something along. There was a bunch of flowers from Alisha, and a card and chocolates from Marlene. The Gryffindor prefects had also sent a card, on behalf of their whole house. She didn't recognise the writing. That was it.
She rolled over. No card. Had they come? Had the school even told them? They were muggles, after all. Maybe they didn't get to know. She shut her eyes. I wish I was a muggle, she thought, and then she thought no more, for she fell into a sleep.
January 18th, 1976
"Oi! Lily!"
She threw her arms over her face to protect herself. It was no use. Marlene jumped on her bed and climbed on top of her, suffocating her in a hug. Lily thrashed violently, trying to get her off.
"I'm tired!" she protested, shoving Marlene. Marlene grabbed her arm and clung to it.
"A week! A week you've been locked up in there! You and Mary! I've been going mental! Amy was about to turn me into a cloak!" Marlene said. Lily rolled out of her reach and sat up. The sheets on her bed were a messy crimson swirl. Marlene's hair frizzed up in odd places, and her fringe was smushed against her forehead. Lily rubbed her eyes.
"It's good to be back," she said, sleepily. After Mary had woken up, she'd stumbled back to their dormitory to get a proper sleep. Marlene had caught her eye as she walked through the common room, but all Lily had managed to say was, "Mary's okay," before she collapsed into bed.
"See how much I missed you?" Marlene said, handing her a cup of tea. Lily smiled and took a sip. She wrinkled her nose. Marlene swore. "Hang on." She grabbed her wand and pointed it at the mug. Lily winced.
"No, Marls, it's alright -"
"Don't worry, I've got it. Calidius." Lily braced. The cup warmed quickly. She prepared to toss it, but it stopped just short of burning her fingers off. A twirl of steam rose from the tea. Marlene grinned. "Told ya." Lily sipped it cautiously. Piping, but just right.
"Thank you," Lily said.
"So Mary's going to be okay?" Marlene asked, crossing her legs. Lily swallowed a mouthful of tea.
"I think so," she said. "Madam Pomfrey said half the battle was getting her to wake up." Marlene fidgeted with her wand.
"Did she seem alright?" Marlene asked. "Did she say who did it?"
"I don't know. She didn't say." Lily closed her eyes. For the last week, her mind had been taken up with Mary. She'd imagined every possible scenario – of what might have happened, and what might happen now. Who had attacked Mary? Why? Was it only because she was a muggle-born? What if she couldn't walk? Or write? Or talk? At least she could talk. The fact that she'd recognised Lily and been able to ask a question had nei4/arly made Lily burst into tears. She'd been terrified that her mind would be completely addled. When she hadn't been trying to catch up on homework or been out of her mind with worry, she'd made lists, plans. What to do if Mary got sent home from Hogwarts and was left in the care of her parents, who didn't have any magic to treat her. What to do if Mary was sent to St Mungo's permanently. What to do if her attacker came back for another go. It had been the only way she could cope.
Marlene scratched her cheek. "Well, on a different note, we have to be up at five tomorrow," she said. Lily coughed.
"Why?" she asked, mind racing.
"No, don't worry," Marlene said quickly. "The excursion's tomorrow."
"Oh!" Lily had forgotten all about it. Tomorrow, the fifth years were visiting Auld Kirk Green, ostensibly for History of Magic, but really just to get them out of the castle. "That's right. Five?"
"Well, we have to meet in the Entrance Hall at quarter past five. I think I can get ready in fifteen minutes. Probably," Marlene said. "Hang on. Accio list." A small bit of parchment flew over from Marlene's bedside table. She handed it to Lily. "That's what we need to take." Lily had a look. It was basically what she had expected – a small bag with a water bottle, a roll of parchment, a quill and a pot of ink, and their History of Magic textbook. They advised to take a warm cloak, a woolly hat, and galoshes or wellies. At the bottom of the page, in large scarlet ink, it read, 'WANDS ARE NOT PERMITTED. ANY MAGIC NEEDED WILL BE PERFORMED BY A TEACHER.'
Lily raised her eyebrows, and looked at Marlene. "Are you taking your wand?" she asked. Marlene scoffed.
"Obviously."
Lily would take hers, too. There was no chance that the people that really ought not to have wands on them – the likes of Rosier and Avery, and Potter and Black – would not take their wands. This time last year, Lily would've stuck to the rules, but this year she thought only an idiot would. With all the attacks, it was too risky not to.
"Yeah," Lily said. Then she groaned. "Oh, there's probably something prefects have to do." Marlene shrugged. Lily sighed. "It's alright, I have patrol after dinner. I'll ask Remus."
"About that…" Marlene said, shifting. Lily's heart dropped.
"What?"
"Dinner started ten minutes ago. It's why I woke you up…"
Lily quickly pulled on her school robes and pinned her prefect badge to her chest. Then they hurried down to the Great Hall. The tables were alive with laughter and the sound of clinking cutlery. Lily and Marlene took a seat at the very end of the table. It was weird, having dinner with everyone else, after taking her meals in the Infirmary for a few days. It was louder than she remembered. Down the table, Potter stood up on a bench, gesturing wildly. Black and Pettigrew laughed so hard they nearly fell off their seats. She couldn't see Remus anywhere; she frowned. Maybe he was sitting with the other prefects.
The food was delicious; lamb and roast potatoes, plenty of greens. Marlene stabbed the peas with her fork until she had one on each tine.
"What should we take for the train?" Marlene asked. Lily pulled a face. They had about ten hours of travel all up to look forward to. She was planning on catching up on sleep and homework them.
"You assume I won't have to sit with the prefects," she said. Marlene rolled her eyes.
"If you do, I'll make a big scene so you have to monitor me. I'm sure that lot will do the same for Lupin," Marlene said, gesturing towards Potter and his friends. Lily laughed.
"Probably," she admitted. "They'll do something to make themselves the centre of attention, that's for sure." Marlene shrugged.
"Better them than the Slytherins."
"Marlene," Lily said reproachfully, though with less vigour than usual. Her eyes drifted across the Hall to the Slytherin table. Had it really been one of them? Wilkes, the clever prefect, abusing his badge? Goyle the thug? Yaxley, whose bookbag was embroidered with his name, and was rumoured to carry a copy of his family tree in there at all times to prove his ancestry? Selwyn? No, not Selwyn, anyone but Selwyn – he was sick. Had it been Mulciber, the leader of their little group, dark-haired and confident and a twisted mirror of James Potter? Had it been someone from their own year, who had a reason to dislike Mary beyond her blood status?
Severus doesn't like her.
It was not the first time the thought had crossed Lily's mind. It lodged in her throat like a bone, and she tried to wash it away with a goblet of water. He wouldn't, she thought. He likes me too much. We've made up. We're friends. He wouldn't. She scanned the table for his face. He was sitting by Avery, in the orbit of Mulciber. His face was closed-off.
"I should go see him," she murmured, more to herself than anything. Marlene heard and dropped her fork.
"Have you lost your mind?" Marlene demanded, leaning across. "The Slytherins have been out for blood for the last week!" As if she didn't know! She'd been the one sleeping on a hard daybed and watching Madam Pomfrey check Mary's pulse five times a day. Lily set her jaw and shot Marlene a blazing, defiant look.
"They're not all the same," she said, ignoring the twinge in her gut that whispered, birds of a feather… "And Sev's my friend. He's probably been wondering where I am. Did he ask you?"
"Yes," Marlene said. "And I told him, and I told him to leave you be!" Lily stared at Marlene.
"You had no right!" Lily said hotly. The girls next to them looked over. "He's my friend! My oldest friend! He could come to see me if he wanted!"
"Sorry, I wasn't about to send someone who's been hexing muggle-borns for fun in to see someone who'd just been cursed into oblivion for being a muggle-born!" Marlene shot back. Lily covered her face with her hands and made a frustrated sound.
"Sev hasn't hexed anyone," Lily said. "I don't blame you for what Potter and Black do, even though you hang around them, so don't blame Sev for what the others do! You're being stupid!"
"I'm being stupid?" Marlene demanded. "I'm not the one going to cosy up to the Death Eaters!"
"God, Marlene, are you serious? How many times do I have to tell you that not everyone in Slytherin who's mean wants to run around murdering people? When will you get it through your thick skull? Or is too bashed-in from Quidditch to process anything else?" Lily knew the moment she'd said it that she shouldn't have. Marlene threw her hands in the air in a tired sort of way.
"Fine," she snapped. "Go fuck around with them. I just can't deal with it. Everything with Mary, and you're still going over there?"
"Yes," Lily said, looking at the table now. "I'm sorry. I have to talk to him anyway. He might know something about what happened." Marlene opened her mouth and then shut it. She rolled her eyes.
"I'm sure he does," Marlene said disgustedly. Lily could've bit her head off again; but she was exhausted. The looming patrol and pre-dawn wake-up didn't help matters. And Mary. Mary was still in the Infirmary. Awake, but it was still grim. It was all so bloody much. She wanted to climb into bed and wake up when her O. were over. Lily chewed her lip in thought.
"I'll be quick," she said, finally. Marlene pinched the bridge of her nose. Lily climbed over the bench and headed for the Slytherin table.
She crossed the Hall, waving at Glen Vane and Dirk Creswell, who smiled from the Ravenclaw table. She rounded the end of the Slytherin table – some girls sneered at her – and towards Sev. He saw her; his face changed.
"Evans!" Selwyn jeered. Lily ignored him. She stopped when she was standing beside Sev. He looked up. His dark hair fell back and revealed his eyes; dark and, she thought, uncertain.
"Sev," she said pleasantly, smiling from ear-to-ear. Wilkes bristled. Goyle slammed his fist on the table. Lily kept her gaze on Severus' face. "Shove over, go on. Let me in." He stared at her. She raised her eyebrows expectantly. Come on. They're hardly going to hex me in the middle of dinner. Move over.
"Is that your girlfriend, Snape?" Selwyn asked, smiling cruelly. Lily's skin crawled at the sound of his voice. She clenched her jaw and turned to look at him.
"Are you hoping I'm not?" she asked him coolly. "But don't worry, it doesn't matter, because I wouldn't go out with you if you were the last man alive." Jugson sniggered.
"Watch it, mudblood," Selwyn snarled. "You're not half as pretty as you think you are."
"But I'm still twice as pretty as you," she said sweetly. "Honestly, that's one of the reasons the rumours are so believable. No girl would want to go anywhere near you." She turned her attention back to Sev. "You could answer me, you know. Alright, Avery, you move then."
"Going to let the mudblood boss you around?" Mulciber asked, sipping from his goblet. He gave Sev and Avery a menacing look. Lily returned it, staring him down.
"Lily," Severus murmured – finally, he speaks, "you shouldn't be here." Lily's throat tightened. But only for a moment.
"Okay," she said, grabbing his arm. "Come on, let's duck outside then." She hauled him out of his seat, though he didn't resist. Mulciber laughed cruelly. Lily gave him a pointed look. "When was the last time a girl touched you? Maybe you ought to try looking less constipated." She had no qualms about being mean to people who deserved it.
"Watch your back, mudblood," Mulciber said, leaning back, appearing quite unfazed. "Don't want to end up like your little friend." Oh, that fucker.
"Watch yours, or I'll make sure everyone thinks you've got something virulent," she spat. "Come on, Sev!" she pulled him away. He yielded easily and followed her to the back corner of the Hall, where they were out of earshot.
She let go of him and his face hardened. "Don't ever do that again," he hissed, eyes narrow. She recoiled. He looked absolutely furious. She steeled herself.
"I wanted you to know that I'm out of the Infirmary. Mary woke up this morning," Lily said, keeping her tone even. Severus' lips parted in surprise. He quickly pressed them together. He glanced back at the Slytherin table, where his friends watched them keenly.
"You must be pleased," Severus said jerkily. Lily gave him a weird look. He was being downright strange.
"Yeah, of course I'm pleased, she's one of my best friends," said Lily. Severus nodded and stared at his feet. It all felt so off. She scratched her arm. His friends didn't take their eyes off them. She wanted to tell them to mind their own business, the busybodies. And they say girls are the nosy ones.
"Ignore Selwyn and Mulciber," Severus said, eventually. His black eyes met hers. "They just don't like me being around you."
"Because of my blood status," she said. There was no question. Sev hung his head. Guilt fluttered in her chest. It wasn't her fault, of course – Selwyn and Mulciber ought to have not been such pricks – but all the same, if she hadn't come over, there wouldn't have been a problem. She made a frustrated noise.
"I don't want to fight," Severus said. Lily shook her head.
"I don't want to either," she said. There'd been enough fighting. "I wanted to let you know that I'm okay, and Mary's going to be okay. And I have two questions."
"I didn't do it!" Sev hissed. Lily blinked.
"I bloody well hope not! I wasn't going to ask if you did it, actually!" she said. Of course it hadn't been Sev. He knew how much she cared about Mary. Still, some part of her was thankful to hear him say it. Lily knew he wouldn't lie to her. Now she didn't have to wonder, what if, in the middle of the night when she woke with a jolt (because that was happening more and more, these days).
"Oh," said Sev. Lily bit her lip, and then went for it.
"Do you know who did?" she asked, searching his face. He tilted his head down so that his hair shadowed his features. He does, she realised, with a jolt. Oh my god. He knows. "Sev?"
"It could've been anyone," he said, voice hard, not meeting her eyes. "Mu – muggle-borns aren't very popular at the moment."
"You don't have to tell me that," she said swiftly. He turned away from her, looking to the roaring fire. Annoyance flared inside her. She stepped around him, forcing herself into his line of sight once more. "Sev. Who did it?"
"I don't understand why you expect me to know," he said coolly. "You know it wasn't me, Lily. Why do you assume I know who did it? Do you not trust me?" She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes.
"If you know who did it and you're hiding it for – for whatever reason, Sev, I swear to god, you're letting me down."
"So you don't trust me?" He looked up through his long curtains of dark hair. She recognised the hurt in his eyes. Pushing it any further would push them to the edge, again. She inhaled deeply.
"My other question was if I could have a copy of your Potions notes for this week. If you don't mind," she said delicately. "Marlene's not as good as you are." The corner of his lips flickered upwards. They were safe, for now.
"Okay," he said. "I'll give them to you tomorrow at breakfast." She smiled broadly.
"Thank you. Really."
"I'm glad you're okay," he said. He looked at his table, and his friends. "I should go."
"Okay," she said. Severus returned to his spot, and Lily, with a sigh, went back to the Gryffindor table.
"Bad luck?" Marlene asked, as Lily sat down.
"Don't."
"Pudding's soon," Marlene said. No sooner had the words come out of her mouth than their plates cleared. After a moment, there was a pop, and mouth-watering treats of every flavour filled the table. Marlene grinned. "Told you so. I have a sixth sense."
"So long as you only use your powers for good," said Lily, taking a rum ball.
Their plates cleared once more when they were all full-to-bursting, and then they were dismissed. Lily bid Marlene goodbye and hung back by the doors, waiting for Remus. She moved to wave to him as Potter, Black, and Pettigrew passed, but they went right on to the Marble Staircase. Remus wasn't with them. She frowned, folding her arms across her chest. That's weird. Had they had some kind of falling out? But that lot never did.
Marcus McLaggen appeared in the crowd, walking towards her. She smiled at him and he smiled back. He was dressed in his full school uniform, even though it was a Sunday, with his badge pinned to his chest. Even his shoes were shiny.
"Is your friend better?" he asked, falling into place next to her. Lily wiggled her hand from side-to-side.
"She's awake," she said. "It's something. They said that if she wakes up, her chances are much better of making a full recovery."
"I'm very glad to hear that," Marcus said, and he sounded genuine, even though he barely knew Mary. He looked her right in the eyes and stood tall, with his shoulders back. It was a nice change from Sev. And he managed to look confident without the arrogance that soaked Potter from head-to-toe.
"Thank you. Do you know where Remus is? We're supposed to be patrolling together tonight," she said. Marcus frowned sympathetically.
"He's actually in the Hospital Wing, I thought you would've known." Lily's mouth dropped open. "Oh, no, he's just ill, stomach bug I believe. He hasn't been attacked." Relief flooded her.
"Oh, thank god," she said. "For a second…" But of course, Remus was a half-blood; he wasn't nearly as vulnerable to that sort of thing. He was more likely to be a casualty of some kind of revenge plot on Potter or Black than to be attacked for who he was. It helped that he was a prefect; Lily assumed that was why she'd been safe so far. Too many people knew who she was.
"It's hard not to think the worst, these days," Marcus said. "Would you mind if I patrolled with you? I tend to think two people on duty is better than one."
"Of course," Lily said. Marcus smiled, and his whole face lit up. It was hard not to smile back.
As opposed to Lily and Remus' general policy of just going where they thought there might be trouble, or choosing a direction at random, Marcus had a very clear plan. First, they went down to the basement and the dungeons, ensuring that all the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins had been able to get back to their common room, and then they climbed the stairs to the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Towers, doing the same thing again. On their way down they passed by the library, where Marcus spoke to the librarian to make sure all was well, and then they knocked on Filch's door to ask the same thing. Lily grimaced when Marcus wasn't looking. She understood that Filch's position was an important one, but he could be a grumpy git, and she didn't really like dealing with him. She waited outside while Marcus spoke to him.
"He'd like us to monitor the western side of the castle," Marcus informed her, shutting the door behind him. Lily nodded.
"Alright, we can do that. Should we start on the first floor?"
Marcus looked confused. "We still have to patrol the grounds."
"Are you kidding?" It came out harsher than she meant for it to. The snow had stopped, but the rain had turned the grounds to slush, and it was still beating down on the castle. They'd be soaked in an instant. "Nobody's mad enough to be outside in this weather."
"Well, we have to check. Do you have your cloak with you?" he asked. Lily shook her head. She hadn't thought she'd need it – they'd just re-applied new heating charms all over the castle, and it was only a little chilly. "Never mind. Here." He reached into the pocket of his robes, unfolded and shook out an expensive-looking red cloak, and offered it to her.
"Oh, no, I couldn't," Lily said. "I'll just cast a couple of charms. I'll be okay."
"No, take it," Marcus said. "I don't mind the rain."
"It's freezing out," she protested.
"Which is why you should have it," he said. "Please." He held it out. She sighed and took it.
"Thank you," she said, suppressing a smile. She wrapped it around her shoulders. Marcus stepped closer to her.
"May I?" he asked, reaching for her. She nodded. He clasped the cloak at her clavicle. He smelt very nice. He was taller than her, his lips almost brushing her forehead in such close proximity. He stepped back. "There's a hood. You should put it on before we go out."
"Will do," Lily said.
They made for the main doors. Marcus looked at Lily. She threw the hood over her head. He charmed himself with a basic water-repelling charm, and they went outside. The ground was soft and thick beneath her feet. The night was freezing. The wind blew the rain almost sideways.
"Marcus, there's nobody out here," she said, teeth chattering. "Why would anyone be out here?"
"We have to check," he said. Fog shrouded the Black Lake so thickly that Lily could barely see the water. Marcus started to shiver, and he cast a warming charm on himself. They marched down the muddy drive, lighting the end of their wands.
"We can't even see if anybody's here," she pointed out. "Wouldn't we be better off going towards the greenhouses? If people aren't in the castle, they're going to be taking shelter somewhere else, aren't they? They won't be standing out in the rain unless they're trying to drown themselves."
Marcus looked at her. "That's a good idea," he said.
They squelched down to the greenhouses, where lanterns glowed dimly inside, lighting up the misted glass walls. As best they could tell, everyone was in the castle. Lily shuddered from the cold as they walked back up. She cast a warming charm on herself, but the rain was so thick it had little effect. She was very, very thankful for the cloak.
"Are you warm enough?" he asked, as they completed a full circle of the castle. She shrugged.
"I will be soon," she said. He smiled awkwardly, and his arm twitched, but he didn't say or do anything more. Weird.
She sighed with relief when they finally reached the Entrance Hall. Rain ran off the cloak she wore and made a puddle on the floor. Marcus' waterproofing charm had worked well, but his hair was still a little damp, and droplets of water ran down his face.
"Filch is going to kill us," she said grimly, looking at the puddle.
"I'll do my best to prevent that," Marcus said. He pointed his wand at the floor and muttered a spell. The water began to swirl and gurgle, like it was going down a plughole. The water twisted neatly into a tight, long cylinder, and disappeared into his wand. "There we are," Marcus said. "Now, should we do the normal rounds?" They patrolled floor-by-floor, drying out as they went. Something banged and Lily flinched, but it was only a girl leaving a nearby bathroom. Marcus waved her on her way. Lily already had her wand out.
"Are you okay?" Marcus asked, as she shoved it back into her pocket.
"Yeah," Lily said. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just jumpy."
"It must've been a hard few weeks for you," Marcus said quietly. Lily pursed her lips.
"What makes you say that?" she asked, as they continued down the corridor.
"The massacre," he said, simply. "Your friend being attacked…all the attacks. And fifth year is never easy. You missed nearly a week of classes. Catching up will be incredibly difficult."
"I couldn't leave Mary alone," Lily said fiercely.
"No. You're made of strong stuff. I hope one day you won't need to be," he said. She smiled glumly. That didn't seem likely, she thought. But she could hope. And she could fight until it was within arm's reach.
"Thank you," she murmured, brushing her hair behind her ears. They headed up to the third floor next, climbing the Grand Staircase. Her chest felt heavy. She started talking, though she couldn't say why.
"You know, with the massacre, there was a woman killed where I live. She lived on my street."
"I'm sorry," said Marcus. "There's no words to describe it. It's awful."
"Her daughter was my age," Lily continued. "Jane. We were friends." Marcus frowned. "I was the last person to see her mother alive. She blames me. The police questioned me. I wasn't allowed to go to the funeral."
"I'm sorry," Marcus said. "I can't imagine it. What's been happening is inhumane."
"I just feel so – I don't know. I've never lived anywhere but Cokeworth, but now it doesn't even feel like I belong there. I feel like it's been tainted. I don't know." She pressed her lips together. "But then, isn't thinking that letting them win? If they can terrorise me out of their own home – I mean, isn't that what they're after? To make us afraid?" She was saying too much, she feared. Marcus would think she was a mental case. "I mean, it's fine. I'm overthinking it." She laughed hollowly.
"You aren't letting them win," Marcus said gently. "You can be upset, you can be afraid. It's normal, Lily. You haven't done a thing to let them win." He stopped, giving her a fierce look. She turned to face him. "You haven't let them win. You've been incredibly brave to return to Hogwarts, and to go about your normal life. You've been a good friend. You haven't let them win. I promise you."
"Thank you," Lily said, softly.
"I mean it," he said. "Completely." Her eyes crinkled.
"Thank you," she said again.
"Of course."
They met the next lot of prefects outside the meeting room. Jugson was there, sneering unpleasantly, standing head and shoulders above a Hufflepuff prefect, Nancy Corner. Lily inhaled sharply. Nancy seemed to lean away from Jugson, eyes wide and round. Lily steeled herself enough to send Nancy a sympathetic smile. Nancy returned it weakly. Lily couldn't imagine patrolling with a thug like Jugson late into the night. She supposed it was lucky that Nancy wasn't muggle-born. She briefly wondered if there was something they could organise with the patrols, to make sure that muggle-borns weren't put onto patrols with the Slytherin purist types. But then that would be mean, if the Slytherin didn't actually turn out to be a purist. It would be no different to putting the muggle-borns together on patrols so the purebloods didn't have to be near their 'dirty blood'.
"Jugson, Corner," Marcus said pleasantly.
"Hello," Jugson grunted, glaring at Lily. She tilted her chin up.
"Hi," said Nancy, wringing her hands around her wand. Marcus looked between the two other prefects.
"Nancy, are you well?" he asked. "You look very pale." Nancy looked perfectly fine, only worried. "If you need, Lily can escort you to the Infirmary, and I can patrol with Jugson." Lily realised at once what he was doing. She sent him a grateful look. He didn't look to see her reaction; his eyes were on Nancy, and they were full of concern. Nancy blinked a few times.
"Oh," she said. "Um, I – thank you. I should be okay, I think. Thank you."
"If you're sure," Marcus said.
"Really, it's no trouble," Lily added. Nancy nodded quickly.
"No, it's okay. But thank you." Jugson looked disgruntled.
"Any problem areas?" he demanded, folding his arms across his chest. The flickering torches cast dark shadows across his hard face.
"Not that we could see," said Marcus.
"The grounds," Lily said. "Don't go out, you'll get soaked."
"Only an idiot would go outside," said Jugson. True, Lily thought, but she didn't say anything.
"Patrolling the grounds is a necessary part of a prefect's duty," Marcus said firmly. Jugson scoffed. Marcus squared his jaw. "If that's all, we'll be off. Good luck."
"Good luck," Lily said.
"Thank you," said Nancy.
Lily and Marcus started back to Gryffindor Tower.
"That was a really decent thing you did," Lily said. "For Nancy." He hadn't put her on the spot or made a scene; just quietly offered help. It was tactful and admirable, and she felt a rush of gratitude for him. She almost wanted to hug him.
"I know she isn't a muggle-born, but the Slytherins have tended to be hostile lately. I suppose that's a generalisation, but I've seen it with my own eyes. Jugson's been amongst them." Marcus looked troubled. "He's been hexing younger students, second and third years. It's disgraceful behaviour for a prefect."
"It's disgraceful behaviour for a person," Lily agreed. "He's foul."
They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady and gave her the password. They climbed through the portrait hole into the common room. A few students spread out across the room, working on assignments or homework, or playing cards. The fire crackled pleasantly. It was so warm that she had to take off the cloak. She unclasped it at the base of her neck and handed it to Marcus.
"Thank you. For the cloak and for the company," Lily said. Marcus smiled. The light of the fire danced across his tanned skin.
"Thank you for the company," he said. "Goodnight, Lily. I hope you sleep well."
"Goodnight. You too." They hesitated for a moment, looking in each other's eyes. His were hazel and full of kindness. She took a deep breath, chest heaving. "Goodnight," she said again.
"Goodnight," he said. Lily broke their shared gaze. She felt oddly light. It was probably just the absence of the cloak, she told herself. Lily took the stairs to her dormitory. Halfway up, she turned around, lips parted, almost wanting to ask something.
Marcus was already gone.
A/N: I start university very soon so the updates will probably lengthen to every three weeks instead of every fortnight. The good news is that all of fifth year is planned and I know exactly where this story is headed. I can't wait to share it with y'all.