Steam, or Possibly Smoke

Christmas was one of those times of year that Sirius loved.

Not very surprisingly, the Blacks weren't big on Christmas in the usual sense.

They couldn't abide the Muggle connotations of the holiday, and the certainly didn't do the whole celebration of togetherness rubbish that most of the wizarding community went for. For them, as with most things, Christmas was all about a front. Looking good. That's all that ever mattered to them.

So, for eleven years, Sirius' idea of Christmas had been that it was yet another excuse for his parents to invite people over and parade him about for them. It all passed in a blur of out-of-place colourful decorations that he wasn't allowed to go near, more obscure ancient relatives he had never seen before and a boxing day spent hiding with Regs in the attic from his father - who came complete with a hangover no potion could cure, a habit of waving his fists about and ', two sniffling little boys about here somewhere that need the sense beating into them'.

Maybe that was why, his first year at Hogwarts, at the first snow fall, he had stood and stared out of the window for most of the morning, until James finally told him to grow a pair and go for a run in it. Sirius had thought he had never seen anything so beautiful in all his life, and was a little overwhelmed. James, intuitive bastard he could be sometimes, seemed to pick up on something of Sirius thoughts, because they had spent the full day frolicking on the grounds.

It had become somewhat of a ritual since. The day of the first heavy snowfall, he and James would bolt outside and run about like little kids.

Unfortunately for Sirius, the first snowfall this year had occurred while they were in Defence Against the Dark Arts, and when Professor Raison noticed Sirius gazing out of the window instead of reading about none-verbal spells, he waved a gangly arm and conjured heavy curtains that darkened the room so much it made it impossible to read anyway.

The class grumbled as one, and Sirius made out Peter, sat in front of him, muttering, ' Wouldn't even expect Snivelly to live like this,' at the same time that James, beside him, whispered loudly, ' Like we can't already do all this shite.'

Sirius agreed to both with a mumbled, ' Arsehole,' and left it at that.

As much as he hated the spindly Professor, he wasn't much in the mood for ranting. He was a little bit worried, if he were honest.

It'd only been a few days since James' sudden u-turn on the whole map idea. They had gathered their thoughts together in a mismatched pile of parchment that were covered in half vanished words and smelt slightly singed with a hint of, bizarrely, cinnamon.

That didn't worry Sirius in the slightest. If anything, it reinforced the genius of the plan, seeing all the options all laid out together. It was like a huge prank, albeit a very complicated one, based on technicalities and hinging on precision rather than requiring skill and relying on timing.

James cleared his throat noisily on Sirius' right.

Sirius ignored him.

What worried Sirius was the whole part where they had to tell Remus about it. He wasn't stupid or slow or gullible, or any of those other things that would have made it a whole lot easier.

Sirius was, frankly, petrified. His stomach was turning, this wide open fear yawning in his gut.

He'll figure it out. He'll figure it out.

Sirius was convinced. He'd know. The moment they mentioned to Moony, ' Oh, by the way, James has changed his mind, forget all that shit we gave Pete for the original idea, we're going to make a map that tracks people.'

It was running through his head like a backwards mantra; instead of calming it was making him more and more anxious.

He'll figure it out. He'll figure it out.

Another loud, throat-clearing cough. This time, punctuated with the heavy slam of a closing textbook.

Sirius shook his head to clear it, and realised he had been staring at the back of Remus' head. About the same time he realised that not only had the class finished and was shovelling their things into their bags, but that James was staring at him, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Sirius blinked at him.

He cocked his left eyebrow, which twitched a little further up his forehead like a hairy, lazy caterpillar.

' That makes you look lopsided,' Sirius said, almost before he thought it.

James countered with, ' You were staring at Moony.'

' I was staring into space.'

' And Remus just happened to be there?'

' Yes.'

James opened his mouth, then clamped it shut again without uttering a word.

Sirius frowned.

James blinked.

There was something awfully calculating in those hazel eyes that made Sirius stomach twist nastily again.

' Come on then,' James said, very casually. ' Potions.'

' Right,' Sirius agreed after only a slight hesitation.

' Great,' James replied, far too cheerfully, before jumping up and jogging out of the room and heading for the dungeons after Evans.

Sirius groaned before following, at a much more leisurely pace. James had been wholly annoying in his bid to get back into Evans' good books. And Sirius couldn't even find it properly entertaining because he was worrying about the whole fucking thing with the map.

Bollocks.

As expected, as he made his way to the most singed workspace in the dungeon - specially reserved for the four of them - Sirius found James draping himself across a certain redhead's cauldron.

' - give myself to you, Lily-flower. My whole self, in it's entirety. Everything -'

Sirius caught enough of the declaration to roll his eyes at Moony and Wormtail when he reached their desk.

They watched Prongs continue his hopeless speech while the class settled into their seats. Finally, Lily cut him off.

' Sorry, Potter. I don't accept cheap gifts.'

' Ouch,' Peter mumbled, as James made his way towards them, looking very poorly like a kicked puppy.

' Never mind,' Remus said, supportively. ' Maybe your mum kept the receipt.'

Sirius laughed, and relaxed a little.

He actually managed to concentrate on his Elixir of Euphoria long enough for it to turn a nice golden brown .

The mantra stopped whizzing across his brain, he zoned out and he calmed down a little.

Until he caught James saying the words Train home, last year, combustible parchment, The List, Pete's idea and, finally, tracking spell.

Remus looked up at Sirius, raised an eyebrow, then looked back at James.

' Okay,' he said, ' How were you thinking?'

That horrible, yawning fear was back in Sirius' gut and - along with it's new partner in crime, nagging guilt - it was busying itself tying knots in his intestines.

The mantra was back, louder now, pounding on the inside of his skull.

He'll figure it out. He'll figure it out.

And - Fuck! - he'd overreact.

He always overreacted with the werewolf stuff. That's precisely why he still hadn't seen Sirius scratches. He'd completely and utterly blow it out of proportion.

' …Sirius?' Peter's squeaky, overly cautious voice broke into Sirius thoughts and grated irritably on his brain.

' Alright, Padfoot?' Remus asked, looking supremely concerned.

' Yeah,' Sirius mumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and feeling his stomach lurch again. ' Just not feeling too good.'

' You were staring, again,' James said, then added deliberately, ' In to space.'

' You look like shit, mate,' Pete put it, sympathetically.

' Hm,' Sirius agreed, not trusting himself to open his mouth to reply.

At that moment, the potion in front of Sirius made a horrid watery Mlurp sound, and let out a sudden belch of steam, or possibly smoke, so foul it made Sophie Erdington gag three tables away.

At the exact same time, a particularly violent twist tugged at Sirius' insides and, unable to resist, he threw up on the floor by James' feet.

' Charming.'

' Let's get you to the Hospital wing, Pads. You look awful.'

Sirius' vision blurred. He vaguely heard as Slughorn bustled over, wafting his chubby hands in front of his face and coughing dramatically.

' My, my. Not a proper lesson without a mishap in these parts, I suppose. What is it this time, lads?'

While Peter launched into a garbled explanation, Sirius tried to swallow. His throat felt like it was lined with puffskeins. The last thing he registered before descending into a fuzzy, achy haze was the slightly disappointed sigh of a aged man with the gut of a walrus examining a substandard potion.

' Ah, dear boy, you didn't add in the counter-clockwise stir.'

Update, woo. Sorry, delay, real life. You know the drill by now.

I did mention I'm a little off timing now, so yes, Christmas in March. Oh well. The next chapter will be too. But there will be snogging in it, so y'know.

Thanks again to everyone who reads, and the few who review. Danke schoen!