Author's Note: Last chapter… was a bit of a fiasco. I really have no excuse for the part with James not being able to change. I wanted a plot device. I wanted a bit of action. I wanted to segue into the next thing I had half-planned. I was using it as a means to an end, and I was thinking about the after, not the before. I should have planned. I should have set up. And I should have had a reason. Everything should have a reason, and that honestly just didn't. I figured no one would care, and the next thing I knew, you did. I underestimated you. You're paying attention. You care. And I shortchanged you all.
So here's how it went. I moped around online for a long time, and my entirely platonic other half (that is, Eltea) took about an hour or so and basically came up with something decent for me to try to explain away my idiocy. Even though she's on vacation. Therefore, there will be a belated explanation. It's iffy at best. I'm sorry. You deserve better.
I hope this chapter will make up for it, especially the latter bit. I wrote the body of it awhile ago and did the interim pieces after all the insanity that was Thursday.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Faint
Lily Evans could plainly see that something was very wrong. It screamed in the silence and whispered outward like a vapor from the bandages on Sirius's face. It was painted in the dark circles under Remus's tortured eyes and written with a fine pen in every line of James's solemn face. Even Peter looked like his mother had been convicted of murder.
It wasn't right that those boys would act like that. Whatever their reason was, it was probably stupid, and Lily wasn't going to let them sit there and simmer by themselves. If they were going to be sullen, they should do it together, the way they did everything. There was something undeniably right about it when they were all together. It made you have faith in the world. It made you believe, if only for a moment, that maybe humanity wasn't all that bad, if it could produce a quartet like this one.
And here they were, pouting alone. Lily frowned. She was going to put an end to all this stupid moping, and she was going to do it by forcing young men to act against their most vital, ingrained, inherent instinct.
She was going to make them talk it out.
During the Quidditch game against Ravenclaw that afternoon, it quickly became clear just how unsettled James really was. The Bludgers seemed to sense his bemusement, and he couldn't catch a Quaffle to save his life.
It was a narrow defeat, but that almost made it worse.
As the Ravenclaws erupted into cheers, Lily caught Remus's sleeve. He flinched at her touch, saw who it was, and mustered up a shaky smile.
"Could you and Sirius and Peter meet me up in the common room?" she asked over the noise.
He nodded, and she knew he'd make sure that it happened, because Remus Lupin was that kind of person.
Single-mindedly Lily pushed her way through the pulsing crowd, liberally employing her elbows when necessary, until she emerged onto the field. It was there that Dexter Walton, the broad-shouldered, sandy-haired team captain, was shouting at James and gesticulating wildly.
"We went over this, Potter! We went over it a thousand times! What were you doing out there, daydreaming? This is bullshit, James! Whatever the hell it is—I don't even care what—you leave it on the sidelines and pick it up when you're done. You don't bring your emotional baggage onto this field, do you understand me? You don't bring anything onto this goddamn field except for one hundred and ten percent of your dedication and your energy and your effort, you got that?"
James mumbled something noncommittal.
"I said, you got—"
"Leave him alone, Dexter," Lily cut in.
The older boy set his hard, dark eyes on her in what was probably an attempt to scare her away, but the only emotion Lily really felt was guilt that she hadn't stepped in sooner. She should have been there to rescue James from this bully the moment the bullying began.
"What do you want, Evans?" Dexter inquired pointedly.
Lily threaded her arm through James's before he could react. "I want to borrow this strapping young man," she replied crisply. "You can beleaguer him with your complaints later."
Dexter started to open his mouth, so Lily dragged James off before he could get any words out of it.
As they trooped up the stairs—or, rather, as Lily tugged him up the stairs—James stared at her arm where it was linked with his.
"You really don't have to…" he began faintly.
"I want to," Lily told him firmly.
In wonderment and incredulity he looked at her, searching her face, whether seeking an explanation or a simple verification, she didn't know. Hoping it would suffice, Lily smiled, and that seemed to be enough.
When they reached the common room, she set James down on the couch next to his cohorts. Sirius was scratching at the bandages again. He stopped when he saw the dirty look Lily was giving him, scowled at her, and folded his arms across his chest.
"All right," she said. "I don't know what the problem is, and you don't have to tell me. I don't even want you to tell me. I want you to tell each other, and I want you to fix it. I want you all to be happy again and go around dancing to the Cars and being stupid. And if you don't…" Lily raised an eyebrow at them imperiously. "I'll be very upset."
"We wouldn't want that," Sirius muttered.
"That's right you wouldn't," Lily responded loftily. "I'd turn you into a cirrus cloud, Sirius Black."
Sirius smirked and nudged James with an elbow. "Like the other day, when—" he stopped short and looked at his friend. Until this moment, there had been a bit of color left in his face. Now it was bone white.
"What?" Remus asked nervously.
Everyone had always told Lily Evans that she was perceptive, and everyone was right. It did not escape her notice that Peter's eyes lit up, and neither did she fail to see the way that James's hand landed on Sirius's arm and tightened around it until the pressure bleached his knuckles.
"Oh," Peter remarked to Remus, waving a hand blithely, "yesterday afternoon, while you were at the library, Sirius decided to turn James into a jackrabbit. Fuzzy ears and all."
"And I changed him back," Lily put in, interested now, watching Peter closely. "So what?"
Peter tossed her a quick, airy smile and a matching shrug before turning to Remus. "Y'know. These types of things tend to last awhile. And they probably, y'know, block other spells of that kind until they've lived out their duration."
Remus looked at Peter. Sirius looked at Remus. Remus looked at James. James looked at Sirius. Remus looked at Sirius, then at James again, then at Peter again.
Lily looked at them all looking at each other and started to feel dizzy.
"What in the world are you lunatics talking about?" she demanded.
"It's all ri-ight," Peter sang idly—and rather poorly. "Well—you're all I've got tonight…"
"You're all I've got tonight," Sirius contributed, similarly off-key. "You're all I've got tonight; I need you—tonight…"
"Said, I need you," James added, smiling tentatively, "tonight."
The grin on Remus's face was small and a little sheepish, but it was undeniably present.
Lily got up and threw her hands in the air. "You guys are so weird," she said. They were still singing to themselves and swaying a little bit in rhythm as she made a point of skipping primly up the stairs.
Remus was smiling. Sirius, James, and Peter were singing. Boys were weird and incomprehensible.
All was well. Or close to it.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
There was some sympathy to be had for things like boulders and houses of cards and ice cream cones. They were supremely balanced, and a push would send all their weight tipping to one side. Remus felt as if, at that moment, a breath of wind might have made the difference between heartbreaking misery and impossible ecstasy in his teetering heart. For now, while the air was still and stagnant, he was sitting on the fence, tilting slightly—first one way and then the other. He shepherded a lost Hufflepuff First Year to the entrance to her dorm and strolled a few corridors, his hands in his pockets, his mind wandering even more avidly and actively than his feet. And then, because it drew him like a magnet, he went to the hall with the windows and gazed out at the lawn.
Through the broad windowpane, Remus caught a glimpse of the waning moon between the massing clouds and felt something a little like pride. He'd survived one more. He'd risen above it; he'd found the strength.
The pride deflated and gave way to despair. How many years was he going to go on living? Multiply that by twelve. That was how many more there were ahead of him. He ached at the very thought. Miserably he pressed his forehead to the cold glass, and condensation ran down the bridge of his nose. Maybe he should just kill himself. That would be easier, wouldn't it?
He heard the whistling first, as always. Drawing in a deep breath, he wiped the water from his skin and turned to face Severus Snape.
"'Turkish March,'" he said wearily. "Mozart."
Severus reached a stopping point before nodding… cheerfully.
Remus stared. Surely he was hallucinating.
Severus saw his disbelief and smiled thinly. "You didn't think it was possible for me to have a good day, did you?" he inquired.
"I figured it was possible," Remus replied slowly, returning his focus to the shimmering lawn. "Just not… probable."
There was a sound that might have been a dry laugh. "Quite so," Severus noted. The amusement in the voice made it almost unfamiliar.
Silence fell, because Remus didn't know how to respond to that. He let the quiet rest. It soothed his ears and his mind, if not his heart. He wasn't sure his heart knew how to accept solace anymore.
A few solid minutes passed before either boy spoke. The black clouds churned closer together, jostling for position. And then the rain began, first as a tentative mist, then as a solid wall of water pouring from the sky.
"You can have it, too, Remus," Severus whispered.
As Remus turned, the words "Have what?" died in his throat, their charred corpses blocking his breath. Severus had drawn back his sleeve and was running two fingers ever so lightly over the skin on the inside of his left forearm.
Candlelight glinted sinisterly in Severus's eyes as they lifted slowly to meet Remus's. A small, cold smile lit on Severus's lips like a butterfly.
"No one dares tread on you when you've got this, my friend," he said softly.
My friend.
"It's the key—the key to everything. To strength, to power, to security—to survival."
Everything.
"He can give you that, Remus." There was an earnest honesty in Severus's voice. Remus couldn't tear his eyes away from the faint outline of the mark—faint, faint, faint, but there. "He gave it to me, and he can give it to you. All you have to do is ask."
"You're crazy," Remus heard himself breathe.
Severus spread his arms wide. He hadn't drawn his sleeve down over that faint, faint hint of a black design. "Look around you, Remus Lupin," he suggested. "Who's crazy? The man who wants to live, or the man who lets his morals blind him to the danger?"
"You've lost it," Remus went on weakly, feeling vaguely nauseous.
There was a paradoxical combination of warmth and bitter cold in Severus's eyes as the other boy appraised him. "Listen, Remus," he said quietly after a moment. "You've been decent to me, most times. You're a coward, and you're a freak, but you're one of the few people who hasn't actively persecuted me, and for that I'll give you a bit of credit. I'm willing to save you. All you have to do is say the word."
Coward.
Freak.
Remus turned on him, blood rising in his cheeks. "You listen," he shot back. "We know something, you and I, and I think we're the only ones in the school who do. You know what that is, Severus? You and I both know that the only reason you've done this is to get back at Lily for choosing James over you."
Darkness fell precipitously over Severus's face. It was only a fraction of a second after Remus's last word had faded that Severus's wand was pointed directly at his forehead. His voice was clearer and colder than polished glass, terribly assured, and utterly remorseless.
"Sectum—"
Someone like Severus had to know that Remus was smarter than that. And faster.
"Expelliarmus!"
Severus's wand clattered into a corner, and Remus Lupin turned and ran.
Distorted images and half-formed thoughts swarmed in Remus's addled mind. He didn't know where he was going until he found himself in the middle of the lawn, wholly exposed to the torrential rain.
He spread his arms wide and turned his face up to the sky. Let the rain fall. Let it fall forever. Let it soak him to the skin, to the bone, to the core. Let it seep into his soul and wash it clean.
Thunder growled menacingly from almost directly above him, the echoes resounding in his ears after the original sound had passed. The rain plastered his hair against his face, on his forehead; in icy tendrils it plunged down his back, tracing his spine with curious fingers; he looked up at the roiling clouds through the sailing droplets and saw a darting shadow that looked, for a moment, like a bounding wolf.
Wash it away, he thought, desperately. Wash it all away.
Frigid water poured over him, pooled in his outstretched hands, splashed in his eyes, ran in rivulets down his chest.
"What am I supposed to do?" he screamed at the unresponsive heavens. "What am I supposed to be? Why did you do this to me?"
The thunder slammed again, its roar endless and deep, deafening and ubiquitous.
"You'll have to do better than that!" Remus shouted. "Come on. COME ON!"
Blinding white lightning streaked through the sky, splitting a tree at the edge of the Forest clean in half. Limbs crashed to the wet leaves below.
Remus laughed a miserable, broken laugh infinitely more grating to his ears than the downpour.
The ensuing thunder drowned him out, and almost before it had finished, another knife of lightning rent the air and shattered a tree at his right, its withered leaves bursting eagerly into flame. Acrid smoke burned into his nostrils.
Remus felt new water on his face, warmer than the rain.
The thunder might have flattened him if he hadn't been numb to it entirely.
Lightning seared down again, even closer this time, bursting into a third tree. Branches wider than his leg cracked like toothpicks and tumbled to the grass.
Another acidic, caustic laugh ripped its way free of Remus's throat even as the tears spilled from his eyes faster. "Is that it?" he demanded, his voice hoarse and unsteady. "Is that all you've got for me?"
Thunder devoured his words, and as it faded, he thought he heard something else through the pounding of the rain and of his heart.
He had only a moment to wonder if he was imagining it before something he didn't see bowled into him and flung him to the ground. Limp wet grass itched against his cheek, and something hot and thick dripped into his mouth. Tasting it, he realized that it was blood and concluded that his nose was bleeding.
"Remus, there's a curfew now, remember?" James shouted over the storm.
"And a fucking tempest!" Sirius added in an impatient roar.
"It's freezing out here—"
"You stupid son of a bit—"
"—back inside—"
"—able idiot—"
"—if we ever dry off—"
"—ridicul…" Sirius paused, and then Remus felt someone shaking his shoulder—distantly, as if in a dream. "Remus?"
He managed to focus on the grass with stinging, hazy eyes. Slowly he pushed himself up and staggered to his feet. "Yeah?" he said.
The Invisibility Cloak had slipped a bit, revealing two wet heads. Sirius looked kind of dashing, but James just looked like a wet rat. Both of them stared at him, at the viscous current of blood running down his chin, at the hurt and aimless rage in his eyes, at the uncontrollable shivers racking his body, his teeth chattering together as if an old crone was shaking them hard in her hands with her other portentous pebbles and bones. They shared a look, threw the Cloak around his shoulders, and, each taking an arm, dragged him back up to the castle.