As you can tell from the title, this is going to be a two-parter! Auld Kirk Green, Part Two should be out next Friday. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it.
TW for: implied self-harm, underage drinking, implied substance abuse, some mentions of violence, underage smoking, (brief) suicide ideation (in a non-serious way).
January 19th, 1976
"No," Peter said, burrowing deeper into his bed. "No."
"Come on, rise and shine!" James sung, ripping the covers off his bed. Peter pulled his knees up to his chest, shivering. The room was still black as night. He felt like he'd only got to sleep an hour ago.
"It can't be time yet," he moaned.
"Bad luck," James said. He dropped the covers onto Peter. Peter pulled them up around his ears, shivering furiously. James left him. For a moment, peace was within reach. Peter shut his eyes, hoping that now, he could grab a few minutes more-
"WHAT THE FUCK?" The chandelier bloomed to life, burning out Peter's eyes. Sirius was already out of bed and had grabbed James by the front of his pyjamas. "WHAT THE FUCK, JAMES?"
James seemed unconcerned. "We have to be outside the Great Hall in half an hour."
"Then I can sleep for twenty-five more minutes," Sirius said grumpily, letting go of James' shirt. Peter watched from behind his covers. James traipsed over to him again.
"Come on, Pete," he said. "I've already been in for a shower, if you get up now, you can beat Remus." Remus groaned and rolled over in his bed, lifting his arm out from the mountains of bedcovers to make a very rude hand gesture. James clucked. "Prefect Lupin, what a display. Honestly, if McGonagall saw…"
"McGonagall can fuck herself," Sirius mumbled mutinously. "McGonagall and Dumbledore and you, you specky fucker, you can fuck yourself all the way to Kenmare."
"Charming," Remus said.
"If none of youse want a shower, I'm in," Dale said, sitting upright and rubbing his eyes. Peter squeaked and tumbled out of his bed, scrabbling at his trunk to get clothes out.
"I'll go, I'll go!" he yelped, pulling out a set of robes.
He dove into the shower, letting the warm water soak into his skin. It made him sleepier. He wondered if his Animagus form could be a horse, so he could sleep while standing up. That'd be nice. Better than being a rabbit…actually, he thought with a jolt, he'd dreamed of a rabbit, hadn't he? He scrubbed his arms with a bar of soap. Yes, there'd been a rabbit in his dreams…It had been bigger than he was, with large, dark eyes, and a twitchy nose…It had given him a very bad feeling. Even the memory made him turn cold.
He dried himself off and pulled on trousers and a thick vest to go under his robes. Where they were going, there would be no heating charms, and he didn't want to freeze. His fingers fumbled with the buttons on his trousers – he only really wore them when it was cold out. They were finicky alright, and too tight around his legs. He looked ridiculous. He couldn't understand why muggles were so happy to gallivant around in them – he felt naked in something so tight. They were really meant for sports or under something else, not to show to the world. He happily threw his robes on over the top. They were warm and yellow, with orange swirls across the chest. He ducked out into the dormitory, and Sirius nearly trampled him as he burst into the bathroom. He slammed the door behind him. Peter blinked.
"Grumpy git," James said cheerfully, rolling his eyes. "Have you packed your bag, Pete?"
"I'll get onto that," he said. "Wait, what do we need?"
"It feels weird, doesn't it?" Marlene said, roughly patting foundation onto her face. "Without Mary." Lily glanced at their friend's empty bed. She wasn't allowed out of the Infirmary yet, so she wasn't going with them today. That was a hardly a surprise. Lily bit her lip.
"I know," she said. The two of them stood in the bathroom off their dormitory, along with Alisha and Amy. The school was generally strict about make-up being worn to classes, but given that they were allowed to wear their own clothes to the excursion, the girls figured that the rest of the uniform policy had gone out the window. Even Marlene had got up early in order to participate.
"Does this look okay?" Alisha asked, pulling back from the sink to show them her face. She was covered in bronzer, with frosted eyeshadow stretching from her lashes to her brows.
"You look great!" Lily told her.
"You're top shit, Leesh," Marlene said approvingly.
They finished with their make-up fifteen minutes before they were due downstairs. Lily checked the contents of her bag against the list before they left. The Gryffindor common room was completely empty. Red coals glowed in the dying fire. Even the portraits were sleeping. The golden dogs in the tapestry had curled up and gone to sleep.
"Should we wait for the boys?" Alisha asked, looking up their staircase. Marlene laughed. Lily shook her head.
"No way. They'll be getting every last second of their beauty rest," Lily said, strolling over to the portrait hole.
"Not Potter," said Amy. "He's always the first one to Quidditch practice. He'll probably already downstairs."
"Yeah, but today he's corralling his mates," Marlene pointed out. Amy shrugged.
The castle was very dark as they headed downstairs. The torches all burned low. Lily was used to night-time patrols, but the castle had far more activity at those hours than it did now. She supposed most people tried to skip curfew at ten-thirty, not at five in the morning. Marlene put her head on Lily's shoulder, and Lily wrapped an arm around her.
"I'm so tired," Marlene mumbled. "I hate my life."
"You can sleep on the train," Lily consoled her. Marlene groaned.
Aside from a few Ravenclaws and Professor McGonagall, the Entrance Hall was empty. The girls slumped over to a spot near the doors, yawning. She could hear rain splattering the windows. Lily hoped they were going down to the station in the carriages. Otherwise, they were going to get very muddy. Alisha pulled out a compact mirror and began examining her face in the mirror, while Amy put on her cloak and pulled the hood so far over her head that it hid her eyes. Marlene wrapped both arms around Lily, giving her a big bear hug, and then began to lean on her, hard.
"You're suffocating me," Lily said, wriggling to try to throw her off. Marlene gripped harder.
"So warm. So comfy. Pilloww," she droned. She threw her weight forward and Lily stumbled towards the wall.
"Lily?" Glen Vane stood in front of them, dressed in velvet blue robes and a white furry hat, wearing a very concerned expression. "Are you – erm -?" No sooner had the words left his mouth than Marlene completely pushed Lily over, and the two of them fell in a heap. Lily cried out, but started laughing, and Marlene snorted like a pig, which just made Lily laugh harder. Oh God, she was tired. Glen helped them to their feet. Professor McGonagall gave them a very stern look, and Lily and Marlene exchanged wide-eyed, wide-mouthed looks.
"You're awful!" Lily said, shoving Marlene. Marlene rubbed her fist against her cheek, pretending to cry.
"I'm tired," she moaned.
"Lay down, then," Lily said. Marlene pouted and went to pull her beanie over her face. She appeared to think better of it. "I'll ruin my make-up," she moaned.
"Your loss," said Lily. Marlene folded her arms across her chest grumpily and leaned against the wall. Lily turned her attention back to Glen.
"Hi," she said. "Morning. Early, isn't it?"
"Very," Glen agreed. He tweaked his blue prefect badge. "We're all standing over there – we expect Professor McGonagall will want us to do something, see…" By 'all', he apparently meant himself, Dorcas Meadowes, and Augusta Gamp, who looked very disgruntled.
"Okay," Lily said. "Erm – I'll come over, then?" Glen beamed.
"Yes, come on, all us prefects can plan together. We've got a big day ahead of us!" he said. Marlene laughed. Lily silenced her with a pointed look.
"Sounds good," she said. "Bye, Marlene. Behave."
"When don't I?" Marlene grinned.
"Ha, ha," said Lily. "Seriously. Be good."
The five Gryffindors came down the marble staircase, bags over their shoulders. The Entrance Hall was full of students milling around, whispering to each other, rubbing their eyes and stifling yawns. A Hufflepuff boy sat on the floor, back against the wall, and appeared to have drifted off to sleep. Professor McGonagall wore a tartan travelling cloak and her was back in a stiff bun. Remus spotted a congregation of prefects not far from her and groaned.
"My number's up," he said glumly. He limped down the last few stairs, trying very hard to hide it. He'd only been released from the Infirmary yesterday after a gruelling transformation. He was still very much in pain, despite the potions Madam Pomfrey had fed him. There were several small vials in his bookbag for him to use throughout the day. She hadn't wanted him to go, but he wasn't about to miss it – Hogwarts excursions were rare. Besides, it would be suspicious, and it would leave Lily as the only Gryffindor prefect on the trip. After the week she'd had, he didn't think she deserved that. With every step, his bookbag hit his hip, and pain shot through him. He gritted his teeth.
"Alright, Remus?" James asked, furrowing his brows.
"Fine," Remus said.
"You don't have to go over there. It's not as if McGonagall's told you to. Stay with us," Sirius said. Remus was impressed he'd got so many words out, considering he appeared to only be half-functioning at this hour of the morning.
"It's fine," Remus said.
"You sure, Moony?" Peter asked.
"I'm sure," he said, more aggressively than he intended to. He finally reached the bottom of the steps. He sighed. "I'll see you later."
"We'll save you a seat on the train," James promised.
"Thanks," Remus said. The others meandered towards the doors of the Great Hall, and Remus limped over to the prefects. Glen Vane lectured the group loudly on the importance of making sure they didn't allow standards to slip simply because they were off campus.
"Ideally, it should be a day of entertainment and education," Glen said. Remus stood behind Lily, who turned and flashed him a smile.
"You okay?" she whispered. "I heard you were in the hospital wing."
"Migraine," Remus said, tapping his temple. She looked sympathetic.
"That's awful," she said. "I'll see if I can cover for you so you can sleep on the train. If Glen doesn't have us shaking out compartments every five minutes."
"I hope not," Remus winced. "Thank you."
"Of course."
Glen raised his voice, and Lily whipped back around, paying attention. Remus looked intent, but he was hardly paying attention. He suspected the other prefects were just as enthusiastic as he was, judging by their mutinous faces.
"So, we need to make sure that everyone from our houses behaves appropriately when we're in that muggle area, the last thing we want is to scare the poor things. That means they can't be eating any sweets with side-effects – Acid Pops and that sort of thing - and they aren't to be doing any magic. Not only in muggle areas, but anywhere not on school grounds."
"Well, we weren't supposed to bring our wands along anyway," Sean Tolipan, the male Hufflepuff prefect, pointed out.
"Well, yes," Glen blustered. "But I'm sure people have, so we should be on the look-out."
Remus' wand was stowed in his pocket. Lily put her hand on her bag, and Remus guessed that her wand was stored in there. Others shifted, pulling at their robes or trousers or coats. Remus doubted anyone had followed the instruction to leave their wand behind – they used their wands so often that it was like another limb. Leaving it several hours away was unthinkable.
The stragglers of their year stumbled into the Entrance Hall, messy-haired and shivering. Professor McGonagall strode up three steps of the marble staircase and pointed her wand to her mouth.
"Good morning, fifth-years," she said. Her voice was magically amplified. Remus tried to straighten up and look attentive. "As you are aware, today we will be travelling to Auld Kirk Green, an important historical site, to assist with your History of Magic studies. I will be leading this excursion, with the assistance of Professor Clearwater-" the Muggle Studies professor raised his hand to them all, "and Professor Abbott." Professor Abbott was a kind, round-faced witch who helped Professor Flitwick and often took the younger classes when he was busy. "Professor Binns cannot attend today for obvious reasons."
"We will take the register and then you are to take a carriage down to Hogsmeade Station, where you will get on the train. We ask that you do this in an orderly fashion. Our prefects," she said, casting her eyes over to where they had assembled. Vane puffed out his chest, "will ensure that this happens. May I remind you that magic on this trip is strictly prohibited, and all school rules apply. Whilst we will be travelling through a muggle community who may not know about Hogwarts, you are nevertheless still representing the school, and I expect you to conduct yourself accordingly. The purpose of this excursion is strictly educational." Remus raised an eyebrow at that. Of course, the school always said that, but he rather thought that at some point in the school year they had to clear them out and give them the chance to look at something new, lest they have an uprising of bored teenagers on their hands. "Now, if you could line up in alphabetical order by house and surname. Prefects, please assist any students who are incapable of performing this simple task."
Not so much incapable as unwilling, Remus thought. His peers began to shuffle into a haphazard line, getting into house order without much difficulty, but the rest of the alphabetical order proved more difficult.
"Wake up, Black," James said, shoving Sirius forward. "You're line leader."
"I don't care," Sirius said. "I can't be happy before eight." Remus rolled his eyes.
"You're first of our whole year," Peter said excitedly.
"Whatever. I'm tired," Sirius complained. James shoved him again. Sirius didn't shove back. He must really be tired.
"Come on, line leader," Remus said. Sirius groaned, but slumped forward as Remus beckoned him. He folded his arms across his chest and pulled the hood of his shaggy cloak over his eyes. Behind him, Amy yawned and did the same. Alisha looked surprisingly alert for it being so early in the morning. Lily walked up and down the Gryffindor section of the line.
"We're all here," she said, sounding dejected. Remus looked at her. "Except Mary," she added.
"Is Mary coming?" Remus asked, surprised. Lily shook her head.
"No. She's still ill." Lily slipped into place behind Alisha. Remus followed her. Behind him was Marlene, then Peter, James, and Dale at the end before the Hufflepuffs started. They were such a small house group that even the absence of one person seemed to leave a big hole. Peter and James whispered together, Dale looked half-asleep, and Marlene stepped around Remus to tap Lily on the shoulder.
"Sorry," she said quickly, not sounding sorry at all. Remus shrugged.
"It's fine." His brain went blank as he waited for the register to be taken. His shoulder ached, and every time he'd rolled over through the night, he'd woken up. He guessed the longest continuous time he'd been asleep was an hour. He couldn't muster the energy to be excited. He was with Sirius, today – happiness before eight seemed unachievable.
Professor Abbott swept through, taking names, and then Professor McGonagall gave more instructions. They were sent out to the carriages in groups of six – the first was Sirius, Amy, Alisha, Lily, Remus, and Marlene. Sirius shuffled out of the large doors down the drive, to where the black carriages waited for them. The rain had eased slightly, but it was still a contender. They all threw the hoods of their cloaks up – or in Lily's case, the hood of her coat. They climbed into the carriage. Remus ended up closest to the door, opposite Marlene, and Sirius was next to him, stretching out so far that Alisha pulled her feet up onto her seat. Remus pulled the door shut.
The carriage started off at once. The lantern inside wasn't lit, so they only had the light of the waning moon with which to see. Remus glared at it out the window.
"How are we feeling?" asked Lily. "It's exciting to get to leave school, I think. And I'm sure the site will be really fascinating."
"I'm feeling like I wanted an extra hour of sleep," Amy grumbled.
"Me too," said Marlene. Sirius grunted his agreement. Lily harrumphed.
"Alright, be grumpy," she said.
"You sound like James," Remus murmured. Something banged, and Lily swore, which surprised him.
"I am not like James!" she protested hotly, leaning around Sirius to look at him. Her green eyes crackled. "Don't even say that, Remus, or I'll make it my personal mission to keep you up all day." Remus raised his hands in surrender.
"Noted."
It wasn't far to the station. The carriage came to a stop and they got out, spilling into the night and towards the platform. There were only two. A tall, hairy figure held a swinging lantern.
"Mornin', Lupin," said Hagrid. "Black, Evans. Yer in fer a treat, I reckon."
"Hi, Hagrid," Lily said brightly. "I think it'll be great." Sirius grunted and raised his hand.
"Hullo, Hagrid," Remus said. Hagrid beamed, showing a mouthful of large, yellow teeth.
"Woulda loved to go there meself. Nice an' green. Mate o' mine has a nogtail farm 'round there. Always gettin' away from 'im, poor bligh'er. Keep an eye ou', woul' yeh?"
"Will do," Lily promised.
The next carriage arrived, and James jumped out first, and Peter hurriedly came next. The last of the Gryffindors and two Hufflepuffs followed them.
"Hagrid!" James cried and gave the large man an enthusiastic handshake. "How's your garden? The rain must've been good for it." Hagrid launched into a detailed explanation of how his alihotsy plants were thriving in the winter downpours (Remus raised his eyebrows and Lily determinedly looked down and busied herself with the girls). More and more carriages of Hufflepuffs emptied their contents onto the platform, and as the rest of the cohort joined them, it became very crowded. Fortunately, probably due to the hour of the morning, it wasn't busy as such. Most people leaned against their friends or stifled yawns. There wasn't much for the prefects to do. He kept an eye on Lily, just in case, but otherwise let James' words wash over him.
The staff carriage came down last. McGonagall addressed them, and Remus groaned as she said the words he dreaded most.
"If our prefects could please report to the first compartment to discuss their duties for today."
"Fuck," he said.
There was' a loud horn, and then the Hogwarts Express chugged into action. James stretched his legs out. He sat his feet on the opposite seat. Sirius did the same, and Peter copied.
"Should we close the curtains?" Peter asked, looking out the window. Hogwarts quickly disappeared from view, being replaced by tall, dark trees.
"Nah," James said. "The sun'll wake us up when we need to be woken up. Like an alarm clock."
"Fuck you," Sirius grumbled. He took off his cloak, dried it with a spell, and then pulled it over himself like a blanket. Peter frowned. James shrugged.
"He'll be alright. Black, you miserable git."
"I'm asleep!" Sirius hissed.
Peter did the same drying charm on his cloak and soon enough, James was the only one awake in their compartment. He cracked his knuckles and locked and unlocked his knees. He started doing warm-ups like he would've for Quidditch practice, rolling his ankles and shoulders around, leaning over and touching his toes. Outside, the trees crept so close to the train that James was sure he'd get whacked if he stuck his head out the window. Spiked arms swayed in the wind, bare and grey. After he'd stretched, and spent plenty of time looking out the window, he did the unthinkable – he reached into his bag and pulled out a book. It was the one they were supposed to read for Muggle Studies. He shuffled around until he got comfortable, pulled out a sandwich, and settled in.
It wasn't half bad. At first, he was impressed that a muggle had written it, and then he felt very guilty for thinking that was something astonishing. He got very invested in the little story about the animals, though he quickly figured it would make more sense if he actually had a squiz at the notes about the history it was based on. It was only short, and he was halfway through by the time a familiar shadow appeared behind the window of the compartment door. He shut the book, and Remus opened the door and stepped inside.
"Moony," James said warmly. "Wasn't sure if you'd make it, mate. Shove Sirius over, don't mind him, we'll all shuffle and you'll fit." He pushed Peter up against the window and wiggled over. Remus put his bag on the luggage rack. He then went to move Sirius, and hesitated just before touching him. He looked as though he was afraid Sirius would wake up and hex his balls off. James grinned and grabbed Sirius by the legs. "Just help me pull him over," James said. Remus put his hands on Sirius' shoulders, and together they moved Sirius over. Sirius grunted slightly, stirring, but he drifted off again. Remus sat down on the same side as James, taking the spot recently vacated by Sirius' shiny gumboots.
"Vane's a prick," Remus mumbled.
"I reckon," James agreed brightly. Peter started to drool on the window. The train went over a bumpy bit and Sirius' limp head bobbed back and forth. "Ah, look at them," James said. "Peaceful as babes."
"Very peaceful," Remus agreed, as Sirius' body lurched forward and then slammed into the seat. Miraculously, he didn't wake up. Peter did. He blinked and shielded his eyes with his hand.
"Are we there yet?" he asked blearily.
"Nah," James said, patting his knees. "Go back to sleep."
Remus followed Sirius and Peter into sleep, and James kept reading. The sky turned from deep blue to grey, streaked with clouds, and then simmered orange, slowly lighting the ghosts of the trees. James closed the book and pulled out his wand. He nudged Sirius and Peter awake. Softly, as the world bloomed to life, they chanted, "Amato Animo Animato Animagus," with the tips of their wands pressed over their hearts. Sirius and Peter mumbled through it, and fell back into the pit of sleep as soon as they were done. James did not. He loved the sunrise. Sunset was cool the night of a party, but otherwise it was just sad; a sign that the day had dwindled, that he was running out of time. Sunrise, however, brought with it possibilities. It was like a warm-up before a Quidditch match. The rain let up long enough for him to properly enjoy the view. Beams of yellow light crept into the compartment, first stirring Peter, then dancing across the dark hair that peeked out of Sirius' cloak. James felt renewed as he bathed in the sunshine. It promised him a day out of the castle, surrounded by his friends, in a place he'd never been before (his parents had done most of the English cultural sites when he'd been small, but they hadn't got around to Scotland). It was going to be a good day. He was sure of it.
Dorcas was very thankful the Ravenclaws had not ended up with either of the early morning patrols. By the time she woke up, the train was humming with life, and raucous laughter echoed down the corridor. Florence was awake next to her, reading a magazine, and Cynthia sat opposite, charming her nails. Because there was only one year level taking the train, it wasn't nearly as crowded as usual, and there was no problem in having only three people to a compartment.
"Morning!" Cynthia sung. "Oh, you missed Branton, he was here only ten minutes ago. He says the trolley will be coming around soon. He says hello!" Dorcas blinked.
"Erm. Hello, Branton?" she said. Cynthia giggled. Dorcas' mind was still foggy from sleep. She tilted her head back until it cracked.
"I'm awake," she said. She looked at Florence, who was already looked at her, her lips in a glossy smile. Dorcas' breath hitched in her chest. Florence's blue eyes gleamed. Half of her dark hair was pulled back with a black ribbon. Dorcas was gripped by the insane urge to grab her by the waist and kiss her.
"Good morning," said Florence. Her voice was tantalising. This is what you need to learn to suppress, Dorcas told herself, thinking of her Occlumency studies. Her progress was painfully slow. She knew it was a process, but all the same, it was disheartening. She was usually a quick learner; two or three weeks of regular study would be enough for her to master a topic. This had dragged out for over two months.
She was tempted to blame Florence, though she knew it was unfair. Florence couldn't help that she occupied Dorcas' every waking hour. Dorcas even dreamed about her. She had never felt this way before about anyone. Interests had come and gone, as obsessions – she'd had a goblin phase, where she'd attempted to learn Gobbledegook and written a passionate defence of a goblin general for a History of Magic essay, and a curse-breaker phase, where she'd spent three months staying up until two in the morning studying, and had briefly made it to the top ten students in their year in Defence. She was familiar with those episodes, and comfortable. But her focus had never been a person before. Not a real one, at least, not one she could stare at in class and spin out of control every time they spoke to her. Florence brought everything in her life into context; it was as if all along, the world had been preparing for them to meet. Fate had been behind the gift exchange that long-ago Christmas; Fate had put them in the same dormitory. Now that Dorcas was aware of it, she couldn't pretend to be blind. There was no denying Florence Diggory.
"Good morning," Dorcas said. She felt her cheeks warm, her voice pitch higher, stupidly. Florence's lips curled into a knowing smirk. It drove Dorcas crazy.
The trolley did indeed come round shortly after Dorcas woke. It was strange, seeing it laden with breakfast food; that only ever happened on excursions. It wasn't as good as the food served in the Great Hall, but it was filling. There were bowls of porridge on offer, as well as wrapped crumpets and toast and sandwiches. They all got tea, though it was piping hot and burned Dorcas' tongue.
"Are you excited for today?" Cynthia asked them, before delicately biting into a sandwich. Florence shrugged gracefully.
"I expect we'll learn more from this trip than we could ever hope to from Binns," she said. Dorcas laughed loudly; too loudly, probably. She stopped abruptly.
"I think it'll be informative," she said. She stumbled over the words somehow, her tongue getting fat and twisted, and she cursed internally. "I think...Being there, at the place where the witch trials happened, will really allow us to empathise with the victims. I think it's easier to understand history when it's in front of you. Or, I find that," Dorcas said. Cynthia looked thoughtful.
"It's not haunted, is it?" she frowned. "Because all the real witches in this trial, they had their wands taken, didn't they? So everyone died?"
"Yes," Dorcas said, "but it's not haunted."
"I hope not," Cynthia mumbled.
Severus seriously considered excusing himself, walking to the end of the corridor, and throwing himself onto the train tracks. The ride was so mind-numbingly boring that he stooped to the height of melodrama in his thoughts. The conversation was far too idiotic to engage in, but he couldn't focus well enough to read or do work either. He also considered moving to another compartment, but he had no doubt that would attract the attention of a well-meaning Hufflepuff prefect on patrol who would think he was 'lonely'. Hufflepuff prefects were more insufferable than Warren Avery, which was a skill.
"So what does that mean?" Avery asked, screwing up his wide gargoyle face.
"What do you think it means?" Rosier said. His arms were folded across his chest. Severus stared determinedly out the window. He had been abandoned to the dredges of society. Lily was patrolling, and the only other people he had respect for weren't in his year level.
"I don't know what that means! That's why I'm asking!" Avery shot back. Severus stared at his book, trying to read.
'At this time, de Montmorency began experimenting with esoteric potions. In the March of 1848, she was beset by troubling dreams; she wrote in her journal that she felt 'maniacal' and 'perpetually afraid'. She travelled by broom over a number of days to Avignon, France, where the object of her adolescent affection, Marius Beaudry, was spending a month honeymooning with his new wife. A letter of Mrs Beaudry's, dated to the 16th of March 1848, survives. It describes an altercation between herself and de Montmorency in which she was viciously threatened. She describes de Montmorency as believing she had a right to Marius Beaudry's affections by virtue of loving him first and knowing him longer.'
There was no point in taking sides in a petty drama between two long-dead witches, but Severus found himself agreeing with de Montmorency anyways. What claim to Beaudry did his wife, Isolde, have? As he read on, he found himself truly hating the woman – she was younger than de Montmorency, reportedly prettier, more popular in school. De Montmorency was dedicated to her love, inspired by him. She spent her whole life inventing new potions in an attempt to win his affections. Beaudry never realised that she was the one for him. He was an idiot.
"So what am I meant to do?" Avery asked. God, were they still on the same point? Severus glared at them darkly.
"Think, Avery. That's what you're supposed to do," he said. Avery blinked at him.
"Thought you were reading," he said stupidly.
"I wish that I could, but unfortunately, you keep opening your mouth," Severus said. Rosier snorted. The train came to a sudden stop. Severus' book flew onto the ground. Avery lurched forward and swore loudly. Severus looked out the window. They had stopped at a train station; he craned his neck and read a sign that identified the place as North Berwick. The platform was empty. There were slightly grimy brick buildings on either side of them. It wasn't raining, but the swathe of sky visible above them was a deep, angry grey.
Professor McGonagall stepped onto the platform. With a flick of her wand, a roll of parchment and a brown quill floated beside her. They must have enchanted the station to repel muggles. In the corridor beyond their compartment, a clamour rose, and students began streaming past.
"Do we go now?" Avery asked. Severus tucked his book into his bag, stood, and left the compartment, black robes sweeping behind him. The door slammed shut, and then it opened once more with a bang, as Rosier and Avery scrambled out. Severus ignored them. Students flooded in. A Hufflepuff girl tripped and slammed into him.
"Can't you walk?" he hissed. She jumped back, whispering apologies. He growled with annoyance. They shuffled down the walkway, and he was bumped into several times. Finally, he made it to the door of the carriage. He stepped out. The crowd spread, with people flocking to their friends, chattering away in excited undertones. Severus had no-one to flock to. He was damned if he spent the day listening to Rosier and Avery's inanities. He strode to the brick wall and began to read again, in the hopes of staving off company. Except for Lily. But she would talk to him whether he had a book open or not. As furious as he'd been with her when she approached him at the Slytherin table, that night, turning the moment over in his head, it had warmed him. She didn't care if she was hated by them. She'd risk it for him. After a week of attacks, she wanted to see him so badly that she would risk being cursed just to talk to him. He was the one she wanted to see when he got back. It had to mean something.
Professor McGonagall began issuing instructions for their walks. Padgett and Gamp began waving for the Slytherins to go to them. Severus caught Lily's flash of red hair next to Lupin, who stood tall and lean, a head above most of them. The lines in his face had deepened far beyond what was normal for someone their age. Severus eyed him suspiciously as he followed the crowd to Padgett's arrogant smile. Lupin stood there with his hands in his pockets, letting Lily do the work. Bastard, Severus thought. The time was drawing near when he would find out what ticked in Lupin's mind. There was something dark behind those green eyes. Why else would Potter and Black take him on? He was no sycophant like Pettigrew. He was too smart to be easily manipulated. His disappearances made no sense…unless. And that was the key. Unless. Lupin's eyes met his. Severus didn't show weakness. He stared back. Lupin's face was impossible to read. Cool, perhaps. He looked away first. You're hiding something, Severus thought. I know it, Lupin. You know I know it. I'm coming for you.
Peter, James, and Sirius stopped dead, mouths wide open, staring.
"Is that –?" Peter's eyes boggled. "Really?"
"It is," Sirius said breathlessly. They stood on a painted line outside the station. A smattering of muggle motor vehicles sat still inside the other lines. One was green and two were white, and they had four wheels and the typical large windows across the front. They'd peered inside them and seen glass bottles and brown paper bags and packets of cigarettes and gloves and an envelope. It was a bit weird that muggles just left stuff all over their motor vehicles, Peter reckoned. You wouldn't leave your bookbag hanging off your broom, would you?
"Can we make it move?" James asked excitedly. "I'll try the Locomotor Charm. That'll do it."
"Yeah!" Peter agreed. They could make it move, and then maybe James or Sirius would jump on, and it'd be like they were riding it. That'd draw a crowd. He looked over his shoulder, checking if anyone was looking.
"No!" Sirius said. Peter snapped his head back around. Sirius stepped forward, waving his hands over the thing, but he didn't touch it. "What if we break it?" Sirius said. He looked up, and his eyes were like a wild dog's. "We can't break it."
"We won't break it," James said, ruffling his hair nonchalantly. "C'mon, let's give it a go."
"Will you really do it?" Peter asked eagerly. "Holy shit."
"No, fuck off, Wormy! No, James," Sirius said severely. Then his face lit up. "Isn't it brilliant?" Remus had appeared behind Peter and James. He still looked pretty tired, but he managed a smile.
"Lily's group is going to get there first," he told them, grinning.
"Fuck them," Sirius beamed. "Moony, it's a motorcycle." It was huge and black, with handlebars like those on a bicycle, but much thicker. There was a silver circle on the front of it, and lots of tubes underneath. He felt a bit out of his depth. He hadn't taken Muggle Studies.
"It's cool," Remus said.
"Super cool," said James.
"The definition of cool," Sirius nodded.
"Really cool," Peter added, because they'd all said it was cool and he didn't just want to stand there quietly. Sirius turned back to the motorcycle and walked around it, admiring it from every angle.
"That'll be an eclectic light," James said knowledgably, pointing to the silver circle on the motorcycle. He nudged Peter. "That's what muggles use instead of candles or magic."
"Woah," Peter said. "Why do they put them on there?"
"So they can go places at night, I s'pose, and see where they're going," James shrugged. Sirius did another loop of the motorcycle.
"How do they work?" Sirius murmured. He crouched down, examining the funny tubes. He reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a small, clear vial. He uncorked it, tipped it down his throat, and carried on. Peter narrowed his eyes.
"What was that?" he asked. Sirius looked up and grinned.
"Vodka. I don't have any for you, don't ask," he said. Peter pulled a face at him. Of course he wouldn't bring any to share. Dick. When it came to alcohol, all Sirius cared about was making sure he got enough for himself. He could be selfish like that.
"Shouldn't you do something about that, Mr Prefect?" James asked Remus. Peter chortled. Remus made a rude hand gesture. Peter wondered if it ever came up, about Remus never taking points off them or anything. He thought Lily was bound to notice. Maybe she wasn't as strict about it as she came off.
Peter's train of thought was interrupted by a low rumbling sound, like thunder. He looked to the sky, frowning. The noise grew louder. Sirius stood up. He chucked the now-empty vial into the bushes. The rumbling grew louder still. It was familiar. He knew he'd heard it before. But where? What was it? There was no lightning in the sky. It seemed to be coming closer –
"Holy shit!" said James. Peter jumped towards him, and the four of them clustered, watching. A motor vehicle moved down the street, a bearded muggle man sitting inside. The wheels rolled furiously over and over the stones. It was a bit like the school carriages, but loud, and much lower to the ground. It was a burned orange colour. There were mirrors that stuck out by the front doors like ears, and silver circles like eyes on the front and back. The man frowned at them as he passed by. On the other side of the road, the other Gryffindors had stopped to look. Lily laughed.
"That's fucking weird," Amy said loudly, shaking her head.
"I want one," Sirius said breathlessly. "I want a motorcar and a motorcycle. I want to ride them around like a muggle." Peter stared at him.
"You want to ride one of those?" he asked. "Why don't you just get a carriage?" Why would anyone want one of those loud, ugly things?
"I don't want a carriage. I want a motorcar and a motorcycle," Sirius repeated.
"You're mad!" Peter told him. James laughed.
"Nah, it's cool," he said. Peter anxiously watched the motorcar disappear around a corner. Was it cool? Maybe if they were all in there. They could charm it to be quiet. And maybe lift it up a little. Peter wondered if the bottom touched the ground after a certain number of people were inside it.
"Yes, that was a real motorcar!" Professor Clearwater, the Muggle Studies teacher, led a group of Ravenclaws. "That's one of the reasons this excursion is considered interdisciplinary. There are so many things we can learn from being out in the world, especially in a muggle area. Today you'll be able to see real muggles as they go about their everyday life. If you pay attention, you might be able to pick up on some things that will be useful for your O. ."
"Remus!" Lily shouted across the road. "Come on!" Peter glanced up and down the road.
"What if another one comes?" he said nervously. "It could knock us over."
"Don't worry, Pete, we'll hear it if it comes," James said breezily. "Count of three, right?"
Lily chewed her lip, trying to remember the next set of instructions. Professor McGonagall had forged ahead to clear the way for them, Professor Clearwater was minding the middle of the pack, and Professor Abbott was bringing up the rear end. Lily and her lot of Gryffindors – for Remus, James, Sirius, and Peter kept wandering off – were supposed to be the group leading the way. Professor McGonagall had given her a set of directions, but she'd never been to North Berwick before. She'd only come to Scotland for school, actually.
They stood on a corner at an intersection. Behind them was a building with a pointy roof and tall chimney, and across from them was an Anglican church. Lily tried to remember if they were supposed to take this right, or the next one.
"What do all the lines on the road do?" Marlene asked, leaning against the stone wall. Alisha blew a large gum bubble. Amy and Dale looked around and walked a little ways up the pavement.
"Don't go far!" Lily shouted at them. Dale pulled out a matchbox. Lily turned her back to them. She couldn't be expected to report something she hadn't seen. "Erm, they tell the cars where to drive. What did she say? What's that sign? Station Hill?"
"The ocean's that way," Marlene said casually, pointing to a line of grey visible between dark roofs and faded red chimneys. Lily peered at it.
"Good point," she said. She cleared her throat, though there was admittedly no real need, because Marlene and Alisha were right there, and Amy and Dale would only pay attention if they wanted to. "Come on, guys, we have to cross the road. Look before you step out. I'm not sure how much experience St Mungo's has with car accidents."
She looked left, right, left again, and crossed to the other side. Alisha blew another bubble and took the road at a leisurely stroll. Cigarettes hung out of Amy and Dale's mouths. Lily cringed. I didn't see that. Marlene shut her eyes and ran across the road at full pelt. She knocked into Lily.
"You idiot!" Lily scolded, smiling. Marlene laughed.
"You looked stressed," she said.
"I don't need two of my friends in the hospital," Lily said. Marlene's face tightened. "Sorry," Lily said. She wished Mary was with them. Mary would've complained about the cold, and worried about the rain, and muttered a comment about the Anglicans (if you wanted to see Mary opinionated, you only had to mention something to do with the Anglicans or the C of E).
"So this way?" Marlene asked, changing the topic. She pointed ahead.
"I think so."
The road gently sloped downwards. They walked past a few empty shops that had little knick-knacks or patterned dresses in the windows, gathering dust. The ground flattened out, and a green golf course stretched out to the sea on their left. The sterns of little ships rose up in front of them. They had to be getting close. They passed big houses with large windows and well-manicured bushes peeking over the stone wall that separated their fancy lives from the people on the street. Amy butted out her cigarette on the wall and tossed it into somebody's yard. Lily pretended not to see. The houses were much nicer than anything she'd seen back in Cokeworth. Her place could easily fit inside their back garden. Sev's house would fit twice over. She wondered what the wife would think when she came out to enjoy the lovely flowers in her backyard and saw a cigarette butt in the soil. Would she turn on her children, interrogate them to find out who it had been? Would she blame it on the scum of the town? Would she choose not to know, and toss it in the rubbish? What Lily would give to have that be her greatest problem. It was the sort of life Petunia wanted. Lily couldn't deny that there was an appeal. But she couldn't see herself being a happy housewife, washing up and chasing children around all day. Maybe while her children were small, but not once they were school-aged. What would she do with herself all day? Her mother had worked since she was in school – not like their father, but she had a job and brought home money. It had never been a question. They liked to eat and to have a roof over their heads; Lily's father, as much as she loved him, had a mouth and had lost his job more than once for getting into an argument with his boss.
Petunia hated him for that. She was convinced that if he could stick to one job, they'd be living a life of luxury. She was an idiot.
The golf course ended, and then there was a small, sandy beach in its place. Lily looked at Marlene.
"Shortcut?" she suggested. Marlene nodded.
"Please," she said. Lily led them down onto the sand. Clumps of green-brown seaweed clung to the damp grey sand and bobbled in the anaemic waves. The wind stroked her cheeks with cold fingers. Their hair whipped around their faces.
"We should go to the seaside this summer," Lily said, nudging the sand with the toe of her gumboot.
"Make a trip of it. You and me and Mary." She meant it. It was nice to be somewhere low and open. On the beach, they were free from narrow streets and grey clothes dangling from washing lines, and from the tall towers and endless scrolls of parchment they were supposed to write. "It'll be after our O. , too," she enthused. "We can celebrate."
"It feels like they'll never end," Marlene said, kicking a glob of seaweed.
"But they will," Lily said. "And then we'll have two years until our next exams. Our last two years. It's weird, isn't it? We've probably done most of the school trips we'll ever do."
"Merlin," said Marlene. She shuddered. "But once we finish school, we can do as many trips as we want. Right?"
Lily shrugged. "If we have the money," she said. Marlene laughed.
"You're thinking like a muggle," Marlene told her. "Once we can apparate, we can go anywhere we like. Even to Europe, if we get good enough. Just summon someone's tent out of their back garden, and we're all set." Lily elbowed her.
"What do we do when they call the MLEs and we get a fine we can't pay?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Marlene grinned.
"We apparate again."
"I'm not living a life of crime," Lily told her. "I'll leave that for the boys. Somebody out of our lot needs to do something worthwhile."
"Gryffindor isn't the worthwhile house," Marlene countered. "We're the fun house. We're the old bloke at the pub with loads of cool stories house. Not the successful house."
"I don't know how I'd go as an old bloke," Lily frowned, stroking her chin. "Do you really think I'd suit a beard?"
They reached a sandy ramp at the end of the beach. They walked up and spotted McGonagall on the other side of the little road, hands clasped. She was dressed in an approximation of muggle clothes – a long green skirt and a neat matching blazer, though the cloak and pointed hat distinguished her as a witch.
"I feared you may have become lost," Professor McGonagall said, regarding them sternly. Sand stuck to Lily's gumboots.
"The beach was too lovely not to look at," she said, trying to sound polite rather than contrary.
"I see," said McGonagall. Marlene pulled a face at Lily, who kept her mask of manners on. Alisha, Amy, and Dale crossed the road behind them. The smell of cigarettes lingered. McGonagall said nothing. She stepped past them and looked up the street. A band of Hufflepuffs wandered right down the middle of the road, between multicoloured buildings. Lily thought that all of North Berwick might believe they were having a collective hallucination. She and the rest of the muggle-borns had dressed appropriately for the most part, but some of the others' attempts at muggle clothing were atrocious. They wore tall, pointed black school hats with a brown woolly jumper shoved over bright yellow robes, or had their jeans on backwards. One boy had his trousers so loose that he had to use several belts to keep them on – Lily suspected it had come from a charity shop, or else from a much bigger relative. Some of the girls were clearly muggle-borns or had a friend that was, but that didn't stop Lily from wincing – their skirts were tiny and their legs bare, and they looked as if they were about to turn blue. If it rained, they were goners. And this wasn't mentioning the chocolate frogs that tried to spring away from them, or the moving pictures in the cards they examined, or the Quidditch magazine one of them brought along.
They joined Lily and Marlene, whispering quietly. Lily stood on tiptoe, looking for Remus and the boys, but there was no sign of them. The Ravenclaws came along with Professor Clearwater, and then the Slytherins, with Professor Abbott at the rear. Remus, James, Sirius, and Peter's absence was glaring. Lily just hoped McGonagall didn't notice.
McGonagall cleared her throat and drew their attention. The crowd hushed.
"We are gathered here today," she began, "in a place that has seen the untimely, violent, and unjust end of wizards and muggles alike. I ask that you pay the utmost respect to those who lost their lives. Any nonsense will result in detention, loss of points, and the loss of your Hogsmeade privileges." Gasps rung through the crowd. It was harsh, Lily thought, but fair. It might actually serve as a deterrent. "This excursion is an opportunity to reflect on the atrocities of the past, and to learn from this and look to the future. It is a reminder that persecuting one based on their magic – or lack thereof – is never acceptable." Professor Clearwater joined her. She stepped aside to allow him to speak. Marlene sighed dreamily. Lily gave her a look.
"Not the time, Marls," she whispered.
"Shh," Marlene whispered back. Professor Clearwater was dressed respectably, in a neat brown coat and a tie. She was forced to admit that he was sort of dishy. As soon as she thought it, she felt terrible. It really wasn't the time.
"This trip is very close to my heart," Professor Clearwater began. He addressed them openly, as if he was just talking to them one person to another, not a teacher to his students. "When I first came here eleven years ago, I felt that my eyes were opened. It was the first time I really got to see the history between muggles and wizards. I'd sympathised before, but I wasn't able to truly empathise until I was here. It's normal to be overwhelmed by this. It's normal to have questions. It's okay if you feel angry or sad today. It's okay if you feel confused. It's okay if you feel offended. I'm not a History of Magic teacher, but of course, my own subject has some overlap in this area with Professor Binns'. If you have any questions today, please feel free to ask me. If you just want to chat, feel free to come and talk my ears off. We're here to support you first and foremost – educationally and emotionally." Marlene made a noise that sounded as though she very much wanted Professor Clearwater's support. McGonagall looked thoroughly unimpressed.
"Yes," she said, face pinched. "Please go to Professor Clearwater if you are in need of emotional support." Lily's lips twitched upwards. She had a great deal of respect for Professor McGonagall – she was organised, intelligent, sensible and fair, but she could not imagine crying in front of her. "Now, in a few moments, we will clear the area of muggles and reveal the magical elements of the site to you. We ask you to please remain where you are while we undergo this process." She made eye contact with Lily, and each of the prefects in turn – Remus was still missing, damn it, where had he gone? – which she took to mean that they were to keep the others in check. Then McGonagall, Clearwater, and Abbott strode off, pulling out their wands. Clearwater rolled up his sleeves.
"He's got nice forearms, hasn't he?" Marlene commented.
"Do you think he's single?" Alisha asked, popping her blonde head into the conversation. Lily laughed and shook her head.
"You two are mad. He's a teacher," she said.
"Yeah. Exactly. Have you seen the blokes our age?" Marlene said.
"Padgett's alright," said Alisha.
"Well, yeah."
"And Potter," Alisha continued. Lily groaned.
"Don't," she warned. Alisha giggled. Marlene snorted. Lily tuned out as they began their whispered conference. It wasn't that she wasn't interested in boys – she liked them, she'd liked Glen, once, and she often thought they were fit and so on – but there were only so many people ion their year, and none of them seemed quite right. Padgett was notoriously good-looking, and intelligent, and he was a prefect, but he'd never caught Lily's eye. He was too polished. Glen was handsome, in a very typical way, and he too caught a lot of girls' eyes. Marlene had teased her about Sev for years, but she'd known him since they were children. She would've died for him without question, even with their arguments, even with that ever-widening gap between them, and she loved him, honestly, when she looked deep inside. But she loved him in the way she loved Petunia; with twinges of annoyance and a roll of the eyes, with a wish that somehow, things could be different. Who else was there? Everyone thought Potter was good-looking, with his messy hair and athletic build. Lily couldn't see it. His fat head and even bigger ego got in the road. Sirius wasn't to her taste either. In third year, there'd been a flutter at the sight of bookish, slightly-tousled Remus, but now she knew how he slouched and smiled and shoved his hands in his pockets and he was her friend, the tardy prefect Remus, not some bookish heartthrob.
Gah, she thought. Here I am with history literally steps away, and I'm thinking about boys. How pathetic is that? She shook herself off. She took in the sound of Marlene's voice, loud and deep and full of humour, the soft lap of waves against the shore, the distant sounds of a car backfiring and doors closing and people, reassuring and disconcerting all at once. Professor McGonagall walked around them, murmuring and pointing her wand in different directions. The sounds of the town faded to a dull buzz. The grass shimmered in front of her, teetering. The facade fell.
Auld Kirk Green had been full of promise, though a little underwhelming; Lily had had the impression she would have to really engage to make the most of it. That was fine. She was willing to. She had not expected it to turn into this.
An outdoor museum revealed itself to them; statues, plaques, moving models. Her eyes lit up. The world warped, and she suddenly realised just how large the space was. It was as though half of it had been in her blind spot. Now, she could see that it was as wide as the Great Hall and nearly as long, and there was a magical couple there that she had not spotted before, peering at a painting that hung suspended in the air. A pink-cheeked toddler was asleep in a pram next to them, one tiny fist curled around a fuzzy toy unicorn. The ocean now seemed very far away.
"Now," said McGonagall, returning to the front of the group. "We have work for you to complete, but before that, we will observe a minute's silence, in memory of all those – magical and muggle – who were unjustly killed for accusations of witchcraft."
Lily bowed her head.
Remus limped down the shore, clenching his jaw. Ahead, on a patch of grass, stood the rest of their year, hands clasped and heads bowed as McGonagall spoke. They were late. He put his hand over the badge pinned to his chest, suddenly very aware of how the light caught the glint of red and gold and made it shine. His shoes sunk into the sand. James and Sirius carried their wellies in their hands, bare feet plodding across the sand. Peter walked as awkwardly as Remus. He'd taken his gumboots off to join the others, then found that the sand soaked his socks before he could pull them off, too. He'd shoved his boots back on but now waddled along.
"Do you think I could use magic to clean them?" Peter asked Remus, straggling behind. "I can't walk like this all day. It's really, really bad."
"Come rinse your feet off!" James called, dipping his toes in the water. He swore. They were mental, Remus thought, smiling crookedly. Sirius splashed through the water, robes hitched up to his knees. His dark hair hung down to his shoulders, curling slightly. His grey eyes danced. Remus stopped, slipping his hands into his pockets and watching them. James and Sirius kicked water at each other, swearing and grabbing fistfuls of each other's robes. Part of Remus wanted to be down there. Out of all of them, though, he was expected to be the one behaving responsibly. Apparently, dealing with lycanthropy and his O. wasn't enough on his plate – he got to be a prefect as well. Joy. Not to mention that if the salty water got to the myriad of fresh wounds striped across him, it would sting like shit.
"That'll make it worse!" Peter squeaked. He lifted his feet up higher as they walked, as if that would solve the problem. Remus suppressed a laugh.
"Come on!" he told them. "McGonagall's going to flay us alive."
"Nah, she loves me," James said confidently. "And her love for me will cover Sirius."
"What about me?" Peter asked. James squinted up at him, shielding his eyes from the sun.
"Not sure. I don't think it's worth the risk, frankly," he said. Sirius cackled.
"Fuck you, Potter!" Peter shouted. It drew the attention of a passing muggle. Remus threw a hand over his face.
"Do you think he'd know who owns the motorcycle?" Sirius asked, splashing out of the water. It was weird to see his bare feet – even in the dorm, they usually wore socks, on account of how cold it was. Not that Remus had never seen his feet before, but he didn't expect to see them in January. It was unseasonal. He had dark hairs on his toes. Remus shrugged.
"He could be a tourist, like we are," he said. The man glared at them and hunched his shoulders over, hurrying away. Sirius' eyes followed him down the road. "What are you going to do if you find who owns the motorcycle, anyway?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. Who knew, with Sirius? He could want to marry them; he could want to murder them. He pulled at his sleeve. The wool scratched his wrist. He inhaled sharply. Jesus Christ, he thought. Would that end up saddling him with some kind of infection? Boy-oh-boy, wouldn't that be fun.
"Buy it from him," Sirius said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Remus laughed, surprised, but Sirius looked deadly serious.
"You brought enough gold with you to buy one of those?" Remus asked doubtfully.
"No," Sirius said. "I brought my chequebook." Remus nodded.
"Oh, of course," he said, as if it was the most obvious explanation in the world. He didn't own a chequebook. He didn't think that his parents did; he had only ever seen them pay with coins from a purse or pouch.
"What's up?" James asked, appearing at Sirius' side. He rested his elbow on Sirius' shoulder. His hair was a complete mess. He'd rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. With his other hand, he held his robes up around his knees. They dripped dark spots of water onto the sand. He grinned.
"What is it?" Peter asked, waddling over.
"I'm going to buy a motorbike," Sirius told them.
"Did you really bring your chequebook?" James asked, cocking his head to one side.
"But if it's a muggle that owns it," Peter butted in, "how would they be able to go to Gringotts to get the money?" It was a good point; Remus nodded his agreement and Peter beamed. Sirius' expression darkened. Remus stopped nodding. Sirius shrugged James off roughly.
"Fuck," he spat. Peter's smile dropped. Sirius threw his bag down. It slammed into the sand. Sirius sat down hard. James was there in an instant, bare knees on the wet ground, an arm around Sirius, whispering. Sirius leaned forward, dark hair drawing like curtains around his face.
"Did he really not think of that?" Peter asked, grimacing. "Even I thought of it!" Remus drummed his fingers against his leg. One-and-two-and-three-and-four-and-one-and-two-and-three-and-four.
"I don't know," he said. Sirius and James' heads clustered so close together that they seemed to become an eight-limbed being. It was as if he and Peter didn't exist. He had two options. Firstly, he could plunge in, try to say the sort of things James was already saying as if his parroting would help, and leave Peter in the wind. Conversely, he could stay where he was, feeling sorry for himself and glancing over at the rest of their year, wondering if McGonagall would scold him for being late.
His hands dove deep into his pockets. He stared at the colourful blob of students. Had Sirius thought anything through, that morning? Ever? Sirius and James stood. Sirius expression was clouded. Oh, fantastic, Remus thought. Now we all get to have an awful day. He prided himself on the way he kept his problems squirrelled away. Yes, he might be scratched up from neck to knee, but why should that stop James from enjoying the sunshine, or Peter from smiling at his pudding? Remus had mastered the art of suffering in silence. He thought Sirius could do with a lesson in it. But then, maybe Remus had just mastered the art of self-righteous martyrdom. What a skill. Imagine the resume – werewolf, the world's worst prefect, professional bystander, slicer of skin, self-righteous martyr. Yes, it seemed certain that he would never own a chequebook. He would never have so much gold in his vault that he could sign a portion of it away without counting it by hand. His future was as bright as the sea – a very sodden, slushy grey.
"C'mon," James said, a hand on Sirius' shoulder, steering him. For an odd moment, he looked like a sprightly father with his grumpy teenage son. Remus nearly laughed. They trudged up to their peers, joining the back of the crowd. It was so quiet that Remus could hear his own heartbeat. A few faces turned to them, curious at their late arrival. Remus ducked his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught James giving a royal wave. Sirius looked at the ground. Peter tried to squeeze into a gap between James and Remus. James noticed, grinned, and elbowed Sirius to move over. Peter slipped in.
"Thank you," McGonagall said, up the front. The crowd's sombreness vanished at once. Conversation burbled.
"Brilliant, isn't it?" James said to them. Sirius grunted. James ploughed on, unperturbed. "Looks much bigger from here. Let's get cracking, lads!"
The ghost of a laugh flickered over Sirius' face.