This is a shorter chapter, but I didn't feel right trying to lengthen it out. But the subsequent ones should be up to their usual… wordiness.

Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 4: Unforeseen

"So what's the verdict?" James voiced as he came to a halt beside his friend. Sirius acknowledged James' sudden appearance with a peripheral glance and a slight nod of the head. James smiled encouragingly, but Sirius had already looked away, cradling his head in his hands.

"There is no verdict yet," Sirius grumbled dejectedly.

"You're kidding!" James exclaimed, genuinely shocked. He thought about taking a seat next to Sirius, but when he walked over to sit, he found that his legs would not bend. So he remained standing.

Sirius gave an exasperated huff. "We're talking about my parents, James. And Dumbledore," he bit out. "For every calculated, derisive statement my parents make, there'll be Dumbledore— a man with all the time in the world and responses that are as long as you and I have been alive." James gave a small smile though his friend didn't see. He was only happy that even in a moment like this, his friend had enough good sense for the sarcasm.

"Well… how long have they been there?" James asked, thumbing over at the entrance to Dumbledore's office marked by a statue of a gargoyle.

"Dunno… How long we're you at the party?" Sirius inquired. James' body stiffened slightly as that conjured up the unfortunate encounter with Snivellus.

"Um… about an hour," James mumbled. Sirius' head shot up.

"You were only there for an hour?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"Yeah… Slughorn's parties… always such a bore," James lied.

"Well that's because I wasn't there," Sirius said. "But…" and he looked to James curiously, "—that party started at five o'clock." He looked at James as if he was mistaken. "Did you go there at five?" he asked. James sighed.

"Yeah… and I left about an hour after it started."

"Okay—but why?" James knew his friend was just seeking a distraction, but he really wished that Sirius would just concentrate on the really important matters at hand. Sirius' possible leaving was way more worrisome than…

… than what that Slytherin scum said to you.

James ran a hand through his hair and finally sat down, feeling deflated. "I was sick of seeing Lily dancing with that prat Allen," he lied, effortlessly. Sirius gawked at him. "What?" James demanded, not understanding his friends' amused befuddlement.

"No, I'm sorry. I'm still confused. Since when does something like that stop you from doing anything with Lily? She's got loads of guys goin' after her all the time… Hell, mate! I'd go after her," Sirius grinned.

"Watch it, mate, or I'll curse you where you stand—" and James surveyed him, "—figuratively, that is."

"Wait? You'll figuratively curse me, or—"

"Just shut it," James cut in, elbowing Sirius in the ribs. Just as Sirius was going to open his mouth for retaliation, the gargoyle to Dumbledore's office came to life and leapt aside. James didn't know if it was instinct or just dammed good rigged reflexives, but the two of the them were up on their feet before the gargoyle even landed.

"Oh fuck…" James heard Sirius mutter nervously, and he couldn't deny that he felt the same way. Even though it was Sirius who would potentially leave, this whole situation still affected James, too. He studied the newly appeared opening…

And then Sirius' parents emerged.

It was always… strange—seeing them. It always seemed to James that the Blacks came from another world, and being that wizards lived in a world unto themselves, what did that make Sirius' family? Stupid thoughts like 'aliens' and 'extra-time dimensional travelers' came to mind— fantastical and wild ideas James had read about in Muggle books that when applied to the Blacks, seemed to make perfect sense. But that was fantasy.

No, the members of the Black family—and hell! Most other dark, pure-blood families—just lived like that. Separate from an already isolated world. Their customs, their manners, their beliefs—All were foreign to him, but still… James knew one thing—that he wanted none of it for Sirius.

Sirius stepped up to them, his face the very picture of composure, and James was amazed. He knew that his own expression was displaying nothing but the mistrust and hatred he held for them. He believed they deserved nothing less. But they weren't looking at him, so it didn't matter. Their smug countenances were trained on their son.

No words were spoken. No words were needed. James found that he, too, could decipher the silence, and he didn't like the answer. At all.

Sirius' fists balled up, shaking slightly at his side. He shut his eyes tightly, gritting his teeth, and James knew his friend was doing everything he could to contain the anger surging within him. Secretly, James wished his friend would unleash the ferocity, bare his fangs. James was just conceited enough to think that if a fight was initiated, he'd do anything to take the smug bastards down.

But James also knew that that was what the Blacks wanted. Sirius' anger would be a sign of weakness… Defeat. But they didn't know Sirius like James did.

Sirius held it in for a full five seconds and then released it all in one shaky breath.

After that, Sirius' father didn't even look at him, even when he past him by and almost grazed his shoulder. Sirius' mother, however, smiled darkly. Just like a creep, James thought.

"Send our greetings to Regulus," she said—more like demanded, actually. James felt his fingers twitched, like he was really contemplating brandishing his wand on the old bitch. But like his friend, James stayed his hand. Sirius, in response, tilted his head, his eyes never wavering from hers.

Then they were gone.

James and Sirius stayed as they were for awhile. James was thinking of all the ways he had truly wished that scene to have gone—It involved the body-binding curse and that abandoned broom closet that had a nasty way of loosing people entirely— while he was sure Sirius was running through the implications of the night's meeting.

"After Christmas break, mate." That was all Sirius said—all he could say. James tilted his head back and fixed his eyes on the ceiling, like somehow if he stared at the cracked stones above an answer would suddenly appear before his eyes that would solve everything. Like hell it did, though.

"It won't happen," James said back. His voice didn't even sound like his own. It was a whisper of thing, something thin that strung out words that no true promise could bind itself to.

"Yeah… I thought we said that earlier and… well?" Sirius looked over at him, shrugging his shoulder, smiling faintly. And James' head snapped back to its proper position, and he stared at his friend… feeling lanced through.

Damn, he thought, and something in his throat burned and clamped the air out. He'd never seen Sirius look that beaten. Never seen the blue eyes so dark.

He'd never seen the trace veil of tears within them either.

Damn.

"So it's true then?"

James looked over at Remus who was joining them for breakfast. He glanced over at Sirius who still hadn't acknowledged Remus or just truly hadn't heard him. James swallowed his lump of a biscuit.

"Yeah, Moony… It's happening," he said with difficulty, the biscuit not going down easy. Remus looked horrified as he hovered above the table, his light brown hair falling in his face as his head drooped lower and lower until he collapsed down on the bench with a thud.

"And even Dumbledore—" he began, but James was already shaking his head. Even Dumbledore could not undo this. "What now? When?" Remus was still looking to Sirius, but the dejected teen was not attentive. He hadn't even touched his breakfast yet.

"After Christmas break," James supplied, at last.

"He's going to Drumstrang," Peter added, his voice low but tinged with something James could not distinguish… or like. Remus bobbed his head up and down, but James knew that his friend still did not fully comprehend. None of them did.

Just then he heard a laugh, and his head whipped towards the source. It was reflexive. It was what he always did when he heard her laugh, and when she did— and once he had spotted her—whatever happiness that she emitted he would catch. And he would smile in turn.

But when his eyes fixed on Lily, her lovely countenance scrunched up in that adorable laugh of hers, he felt nothing but bitterness.

He couldn't blame her—he knew that—but to see her laughing so effortlessly when he himself felt so low… It embittered him. In his mind, he told himself that she just didn't know, but inside he was telling himself that she just should… instinctually. After all, he felt things for her instinctually, things that she was feeling herself and not him initially.

James looked away because he couldn't be bothered to be worked up over Lily once again when it was his friend who needed him in that moment. However, when his eyes left her face— left the familiar pale skin and flushed cheeks and deep green eyes all framed in red, they befell on another.

Snape.

Across the room, the git was doing nothing to hide his apparent… glee? James felt something vomit up deep from within. It was more than anger—more than the usual acrimony that flaked James' every opinion of the Slytherin. It was cold and deep and rushing up faster than he could squelch.

He stood abruptly, shocking poor Remus out of his grieved musing and causing Peter to drop his forkful of eggs down into his lap. Even Sirius looked up at him. He wished he could tell them that he was stepping out for a bit for some fresh air— or that he was going to the common rooms or the library or anywhere—but he hesitated for a moment, choking on his words and locked on Snape.

"James?" came Remus quietly, concernedly.

"I'm—too crowded in here—for a bit—out—See ya."

With that, he fumbled over the bench and walked out of the Dining Hall, leaving his friends just as confused as he felt. He even heard Lily shout his name, but he just ignored her as he stormed past. He didn't even know where he was going. He was just following his feet; they seemed to be the only thing functioning rationally at the moment. They led him up the marble staircase, up floors two then three where he was then diverted down the stretch of corridor. He seemed to be walking very purposefully when in truth he didn't know where the hell he was intent on getting to. But on he was directed until he stopped by the stone statue of the humpbacked witch.

James didn't even hesitate.

He tapped the witch and intoned quietly, "Dissendium." He squeezed through the small opening that appeared on the witch's back and slid down. He contemplated in the darkening, twisted tunnel if he should turn back to at least fetch his cloak, but James had been in and out of Hogwarts on this path more times than he could remember. He would not get caught; the cloak was unneeded. He pressed on and was careful when opening the trapdoor that led to Honeydukes' cellar.

Expertly, he concealed himself until the opportune moment when he detached himself from his place of hiding and strode up the steps that led him to the shop's front and ultimately out on to Hogsmeade. He hesitated outside for a moment, unsure of what he planned on doing next, but once he caught sight of the Three Broomsticks he figured what better place was there for someone ditching school?

Sure he'd get the disapproving glance of Madam Rosmerta, but James had spent a whole year charming the witch to where that's all she did now. Never a word. She just accepted it because James had wanted her to. When he and his mates came down some days, she never once reported them and always served them their order.

James felt he could use something warm in his stomach just then, something to counter the bile-esque sensation he felt stirring. And as he entered and chose his seat, after Rosmerta lectured him with a glance and then took his order—after his butterbeer arrived and he was finally left alone—he still could not shake the image of Snape.

Those beetle black eyes… The sneer on his lips… The look of absolute triumph!

He took a sip of his butterbeer, and it slid down eerily. He slammed his tankard down on the table and earned the annoyed looks of the neighboring occupants. But James didn't care because as he wiped the foam off his mouth, he thought he had a name for the feeling.

And it was nothing good.

For Snivellus.

When James finally slipped out from the witch's secret passage, the corridors were dark. He eased down on to his tiptoes, looking about him cautiously. No one was really ever up on the third floor, but there was always Filch to worry about.

While he had left the Three Broomsticks and consequentially Hogsmeade while light was still out, James had taken his time when traversing back through the gnarled tunnels up back to Hogwarts. Perhaps he was stalling—he certainly didn't want to immerse himself back into the fold of gloom along with his mates—but more than that, James had just like being alone sometimes.

He knew he was being selfish. Sirius was going through something that James felt was akin to a crisis, but there were those moments when suddenly, James just had to be by himself. It wasn't like it was time wasted—James had certainly thought of a few things that could save his friend—but James had also thought of other plans. Ones that involved that slimy Slytherin. Ones that James prided himself on being able to shut the git up forever.

Or least make it so the bastard could never look at James again like he was superior.

Like he had this morning.

James meandered back towards the grand staircase. The idea was a hatchling, a fledgling of a thought. James would need more time to develop it further until it became the splendor he knew it could be. However, there were more pressing matters for James to pledge his focus to at the moment, and those were the ones that Sirius needed to be included in on from the get-go.

He looped around the end of the hall and was just making his first step upwards on the staircase when he saw someone descending ahead. He didn't turn around or dart out of sight. He didn't move at all in fact. This wasn't Filch or Peeves or any professor.

It was the one person James did not want to see.

By the other's expression, James knew they were of like mindedness.

"Please tell me you weren't haunting her again," James said, evenly enough. Snape said nothing, his banal focus merely shifted from the stair rail onto James. "You know, I've been thinking…" James began as he slowly trudged up the marble stairs, unsure of why his feet were moving at all, " …you should seriously consider partitioning for a spot as a Hogwarts ghost. Who knows? May be the only chance you'll ever get at actually being anything." James was smiling as he said all this, his earlier ire, annoyance, and confusion subsiding into the familiar.

"Clever…" Snape said back to him, his voice unflinching, low, and disinterested. James narrowed his eyes, as he stopped three steps below the landing where Severus stood.

"Paying me compliments?" –and another step upward—"I'd say I'm flattered but really—"

"— 'it's to be expected'," Snape finished for him bored, and again James stopped. "Look, Potter, I'm really tired. How about you save your restless goading for another day?" Snape put to him flatly, and without waiting for a response, he began his way down the stairs.

James was still, he didn't even sense his own breathing, but as Snape came to pass him, his arm… without his meaning to… his hand…

He reached out and latched unto Snape's upper arm just before the Slytherin passed him completely. James didn't know what to do. He was horrified. Obviously, Snape was just as taken aback or surely he would have shoved James away—cursed him—something. But for a moment, both of them remained like that— James facing the upper level, hand gripped tight around Snape—Snape turned towards the lower landing, one leg poised to continue on down… Silent…

What a fucking long moment!

James was torn between his horror of having actually touched the slimy snake and giving in to a voice that spoke deep and low within his mind— A voice telling him that he could vent out the frustration he felt on someone who truly deserved it all—could flex his superiority… could take this further.

Something strange was happening. The bile that seemed to always churn in his gut when Snape said something James did not like was beginning to settle down, or at least, it couldn't match the ferocity of a new sensation that began to take hold. His heart was hammering, and not in that way it does after he ran for long distances— or after pulling off a complicated broom trick—or after being caught by Dumbledore when a prank went awry— or when Lily smiled at him in that particular way…

This was something new.

—something unexpected…

"Let go before my flesh rots off from your putrid touch," Snape demanded caustically. On any other day, at any other given moment, James would have replied with something like, 'if anything it'll burn off since my divinity purges all evil,' but instead… on this day, at this moment, James felt his grip loosen and his arm fall limply to his side. Surely, this, at least, elicited a response from the Slytherin.

But if it did, James couldn't see.

… didn't want to see.

Wordlessly, both boys separated, each continuing on to their intended destinations, their footsteps echoing in the abandoned, cavernous stairwell.

When James finally made it back to his room, the others were already asleep. Was is really so late? He kicked off his shoes, pulled off his jumper, unbuttoned his shirt, shifted out of his trousers, and slipped under his covers after concealing his four-poster bed behind translucent curtains. He removed his glasses, imparting them on the bedside table, and closed his eyes.

And did not sleep at all that night.

James shifted his weight from one leg to the other, blinking up into the sky.

He had considered riding this morning, if one could call it morning—it was still an inky blue out with a few tossed out stars here and there—but James hadn't gotten far past the front gate.

He merely watched as his vaporizing breath spiraled out and up. Autumn was finally concluding and winter was taking hold fast. Normally, James liked colder weather. He always said it because everything just seemed… cleaner.

But now, James was not so appreciative of winter's advent because during winter, there was Christmas, and after Christmas meant Sirius' departure from Hogwarts. Having Sirius gone meant losing a best mate. Losing a best mate meant losing James' one defender.

Because who was he kidding?

Sure people found his pranks funny, but the ones he surrounded himself with were merely clueless—generally. Sirius was the one other person who understood James' boredom, understood it and knew it well himself.

In the hours it had taken James to conclude that he was not receiving sleep any time soon, he had dedicated his restless moments to thinking of excellent pranks because thinking about those was infinitely better than thinking about a certain Slytherin. Even when James pictured the gutless snake in his mind, at the mercy of his cleverness— his prank, he at least felt an ease supersede over his current— dare he think it?— anxiety.

Because when James truly drifted into remembering last night's encounter, with his grip so tight on the Slytherin's arm… he, himself, felt his grip on normalcy loosen. So he replaced last night with fantastical scenarios instead, in which he, like a revered sovereign, ruled over the servile and weak Slytherin completely. After the pranks that he had concocted, he was certain Snape wouldn't feel anything short of defeat.

This one prank, in particular, James was especially proud of, and he was confident that, once he told Sirius, was going to make his mate equally as happy. It would take time, though. After all, the plan hinged on happening at a specific time… with the aid of a specific person, and there lied the only true difficulty.

Sirius was always more than willing to oblige James' prank, and Peter would do anything he or Sirius asked him to. But Remus wasn't always so keen on the uptakes even though James usually had a way of getting him to join in.

This one plan, however, was something that even he didn't think he could placate his friend into following…

But he had to.

This whole thing was really contingent upon Remus, after all.