Thanks to my reviewers and betas, I owe you one!


Chapter 1- A Distorted Hand

"Padfoot, c'mon mate." James Potter poked anxiously at his best friend's arm as it transferred forkfuls of Shepherd's pie to, and then empty ones from, his open mouth.

"Wha s'it?" Sirius spoke through a guard of potato and mince.

"There's a huge fight outside. Some Slytherin is getting it." Whatever 'it' was. "Merlin, I hope it's Snivellus. It must get a bit boring for him, to only be hexed by us. This'll give him some variety."

"But I'll miss out on my cherry pie." Sirius had emptied his plate, and was now reaching for a bowl and jug of custard. James pulled it away from him, Sirius fought back and soon both boys were covered in sticky yellow from the wrists down.

"You owe me a pudding, Prongs." Black tried in vain to furrow his brow, but broke down into a fit of giggles and flicked a cherry Potter's way.

"The show must go on, and we're missing it." James wiped a spot of custard from his glasses, and stood from the table. Several members of their house had already descended into the grounds, and he was eager not to sacrifice any more time that could be spent cheering on the insatiable hobby of causing a Slytherin the maximum possible level of embarrassment.

"I bet you a sickle it's all over by the time we get there, and then we'll only have to waddle all the way back up to the castle again." Sirius, somewhat reluctantly, slipped from under the oak and after stretching, burping and finally jogging the length of the dining hall to catch up with his friend, was out of breath as they walked out into the blinding sun of a dying September.

"Worried about that Transfiguration essay you never completed, Pads?"

"Since when have I been worried about anything I haven't completed? I get through on my good looks and naïve charm." James stopped dead and turned with raised eyebrow.

"Naïve charm? You've seen worse than half the year put together. Most definitely including Slytherins"

"I resent that." Sirius took on a look of mocked pain, but couldn't hold it, and was laughing again by the time they reached the small crowd that had congregated around an unknown centre just outside the forbidden forest. It was not constructively hidden, and had obviously formed from a spontaneous spark not too long ago.

"You owe me a sickle."

"This better be worth it."

James walked ahead, and tapped on the first back he came to. A fellow seventh year with a mop of dirty blonde hair turned around, his Hufflepuff outer robe slung over his shoulder in an offhanded sort of way.

"Any good?"

"I've been trying to find out myself. Bloody first years." He gestured to the huddle of smaller students that seemed to have found the action and hidden it before anyone else had the chance.

"No common decency." James increased his tone, hoping to drop a hint that was, apparently, never acknowledged. Everyone was too engrossed in other matters.

"C'mon, Prongs. We'll wait." Suddenly, Sirius didn't want to see what was happening behind the human screen.

"You're willing to give up a cherry pie for nothing? No fear!" Spreading his arms and taking in a deep breath, as if preparing himself for a heavy lift, James began making a path through the crowd, leaving Sirius in his wake to mutter the odd apology as eleven year olds rubbed at varying parts of the anatomy with quiet looks of distaste.

James somehow managed to make a hole large enough between two heads to fill with his own. Sirius held back on one foot, running a hand through his overgrown hair, hiding his forehead with his fringe and wondering for the first time that day just where Remus was.

"Uhh." Something along those lines emitted from Potter's lips.

"What?"

"I-erm. You were right. Let's go back and catch that pie." James turned along with his mind, awakening the familiar beast of suspicion within his friend.

"Well- what? Prongs?" He had begun to trot away at a steady pace, returning only to tug at the tails of Sirius' customary un-tucked shirt.

"I'm suddenly hungry again." His tone was somehow distant, almost as if-

Sirius pulled away from him, back through the mass, jostling past bodies that seemed intent on keeping him behind.

"Pads! Pads, no!" It was too late. In that split second, he'd seen through a window. The victim whose blood had so obscenely stained the grass was not Severus Snape. His hair was the same colour, but it fell in curls rather than greasy tendrils over his Slytherin uniform. As he struggled to his feet for perhaps the hundredth time, his head turned and Sirius came face to face with those grey, unfathomable eyes so like his own.

"Pads?" James was beside him again, forcing his arm away from its fixed position at his side. Black did not struggle as he was patiently lead from the scene, head bowed reminiscent of his canine form.

"You can't do anything. Dung would have cut you up as well." Mundungus Fletcher. The newest joker in an ever-widening pack. It was a wonder he made it into Gryffindor, for he appeared to have no redeeming qualities whatsoever.

"B-but-" Sirius drifted into silence, not really sure what he had wanted to say.

"Nothing." James calmly ended the discussion, rationality having doomed the return to the castle an unhappy one. Any guilt was banished ruthlessly and time inside his head seemed abruptly suspended upon that moment, the fourth year's head turning over and over again.

----------

The grounds emptied shortly after the two marauders retreated inside, the excitement having finished after Regulus Black stopped getting up. His body now lay motionless in the darkening green, a stark contrast to the mess of his shredded trousers.

"Black?" A cold voice from above fell on deaf ears as a boot roughly collided with his stomach in order to flip him over. He blinked into the sun, one arm cautiously rising to shield his face from any further impact.

"Please. Anything you want." How pathetic. A member of the most noble house of Black, begging.

"What could you possibly have that is worth anything to me?" That tone was familiar, deep and disjointed as if it were rarely used. Regulus moved his arm, finally opening his eyes to look up, directly into the face of Severus Snape. The seventh year was upside down, and from this angle looked, if possible, even uglier. Regulus laughed stupidly, then winced at his mistake, rushing a hand down to support his bruised ribs. Snape sniffed in revulsion.

"Except, perhaps, yourself." Severus finished his own turn of phrase, and a queer look came to his lips. Each end rose in a smirk.

"What?" The younger frowned in confusion, suddenly scared again as his eyes darted from left to right. Snape, however, appeared to be alone, and now he bent and placed a hand on Regulus' shoulder, holding him down. He spoke once more, this time quieter, but oddly powerful it its restraint.

"Do you think you deserved what happened to you?" He spoke deliberately slowly, as if trying to get a small house elf to understand complex potion making. Regulus felt anger rise like a tide, washing over his bloody nose. He raised one hand before punching down into the cut grass. It came up with a fist full of mud and the transferred energy did nothing for the alien ball of rage that was gradually rising up his throat.

"You must not waste such power." Severus spoke as if he had thrust fingers down the younger's throat, and was now dangling the foreign object under his hooked nose.

"I don't understand." Not the emotion, not the bruises around his mouth, and not the overwhelming urge to please Snivellus Snape.

"No. No, I don't suppose you do." Nothing more was said as he rose to his feet and extended a hand down, beetle-black eyes somehow scratching away at the barrier Regulus did not even recall erecting.

"Get up."


A/N: It may look a little different at the end, because it is. The first version gave too much away too soon with regards to Snape. The same rules apply, however. Please R & R!