Chapter 6: Be Prepared to Bleed

It started, as many things do, at breakfast.

It had been a few days since James' mother had met with Sirius and McGonagall – and chose not to see her own son, thank you very much, mum – and he had been pleased to see a difference already in his best friend. He seemed less withdrawn, and was even sometimes willing to talk. James had long suspected that his mum had superlative diplomatic and interpersonal skills, and it was nice to see them put to a different use than just soothing his father after another frustrating Sleekeazy's board meeting. She'd been retired from the Ministry since he was born – something high level in the Department of Mysteries ("it's called the Department of Mysteries, Jamie, not the Department of Tell Everyone You Like, so please do stop asking") – so it wasn't often he got to see that side of her.

But while Sirius was making small strides in the right direction, Remus seemed to have withdrawn further into his shell. James wasn't sure what had brought this on; as far as he knew, the boy hadn't had a single exchange with Sirius that could've set him off – in fact, he hardly spoke to anyone if he could avoid it.

Frankly, if he thought he could get away with it, he might have called his mother back in to try her hand at sorting out Remus. But even James had to admit that there was something a bit babyish about getting your mum to sort out your problems when you were an ancient sixteen years of age. He'd have to handle this one himself.

He was puzzling over this very matter, watching with distracted interest as the rich yolk from his fried egg slowly invaded the rest of his plate, when Lily Evans plopped herself unceremoniously in the seat across from him. James, Sirius and Peter all looked up with some alarm: she usually chose to sit as far away from them as she possibly could.

"Good morning," Lily said, reaching for the jug of pumpkin juice. "Remus not down for breakfast again?"

James blinked. Why did she so often leave him feeling like he was one Gobstone short of a set? "No…he's been sleeping in a lot the past couple of days…"

Lily sighed. "It must be because of the thing with Severus."

To his right, he heard a clang as Sirius dropped his fork. "What thing?"

She glanced uncomfortably between them. "Oh…did he not tell you…?"

James drew in a steadying breath. "Tell us what, Evans?"

She busied herself serving up a bowl of porridge. "If he didn't tell you, maybe I shouldn't – "

"Yes, yes, you're very noble," Sirius interrupted. "What happened?"

James watched as she stirred brown sugar into her porridge, staring resolutely down at the mixture; he could identify, to the millisecond, the point at which she dropped her resolve. "Alright," she sighed and lowered her voice, leaning in closer, looking round them for eavesdroppers. "I was on prefect duties, and I came across Remus and Severus – Severus had his wand out, and was – well…" She looked almost apologetic. "Calling him some pretty awful things."

"That slimy little shit – " Sirius started, heaving himself out of his seat.

James reached out without looking and yanked him back down again, keeping his gaze on Lily. He was desperately trying to read her expression. "You…heard these things?" he asked, quiet, careful.

She met his gaze. "I did," she admitted. She checked around them again. "He was calling him a monster, a half-breed – said he didn't deserve to stay here, that there was no point anyway because no one would hire a…" She hesitated, and finally, murmured, "A…you know."

Fuck. Shit. Fucking shit. "You…know?" James asked, fear like ice through his chest.

She nodded. "I've had my suspicions for a while, but…that confirmed it."

He frowned, catching Peter's eye across the table briefly; his friend looked stunned, a forkful of sausage and bacon frozen half-way to his open mouth. Unattractive a sight as it was, James could understand the feeling entirely. "Have you told anyone?" he turned back to her.

She looked affronted. "What? Of course not!" She dropped her spoon back into her bowl. "It's not my business. And those things he said…they were abhorrent. They were bullshit." She sat up straighter, frowning with righteous indignation. "Remus is amazing."

Sirius' voice was very quiet and very sad when he spoke up. "He is."

Lily's gaze flickered over to Sirius, then Peter, before finally returning to James. "Remus was really shaken…I had to basically talk him down from a panic attack," she said. "I had hoped he would come back and talk to you lot about it…"

James glanced at Sirius, who was now staring at his plate, chewing on his bottom lip with a ferocity he hadn't had in a while. "No. He's…he's been pretty withdrawn the past few days." He paused, then added, "More so than before, I mean."

She hesitated. "I'd like to talk to him." This wasn't a side of Lily he often saw: she was usually so sure of herself, so determined to claim her place in this world. "Do you think…would he be okay with that? I can't bear the thought of him thinking I hate him or I'm going round telling people about…all this."

James nodded. "I think you should," he agreed. "I think he needs to hear it from someone other than us – it's probably become white noise, a bit."

She nodded too, and heaved a sigh before standing up decisively. "Well, then," she said, swinging her bag over her shoulder. "Tell Binns I've got period pains or something. I'll see if I can get him talking and out of the dorm in time for Potions."

Peter let out a nervous laugh next to her. "Period pains - ?"

"Will do, Evans," James managed a small grin, giving her a salute. "Good luck."

The redhead disappeared out of the Great Hall, leaving a stunned silence in her wake. James' gaze lifted, searching the Slytherin table for that familiar, hated face. "I should've guessed something had happened," he said, frowning in frustration. No sign of Snape anywhere. "I know he was quiet before, but this has been something else entirely."

Sirius' jaw was clenched, the muscle there twitching with the effort of holding himself together. "When I see Snivellus – "

"You're going to do absolutely fuck all," James interrupted firmly. "Don't get yourself expelled over that oily twat. He's not worth it."

Sirius turned, incensed. "Are you saying we should just sit back and let him harass our friend whenever he bloody wants?"

"No," he replied, stabbing a piece of bacon with more force than strictly necessary. "That's not what I'm saying. But there are ways of dealing with this that don't get you kicked out of school, and that don't make our friend even more self-conscious and miserable than he already is."

There was a pause, then it was like seeing a needle pierce a balloon: all the outrage wheezed out of him. "Fine," Sirius muttered, glaring at his scrambled eggs. "I won't do anything stupid."

Peter opened his mouth, but caught James' eye and quickly shut it again. Thank Merlin for Marauder instincts, because James didn't think Sirius would handle ridicule very well right now. "Good. Eat up, we're going to be late for History of Magic…"

"Yes, mother," was Sirius' scathing reply.

So, business as usual, then.

A benefit of skiving lessons – not that it was something Lily usually did, the only stain on her record being a string of Divination lessons in fourth year when she had a bout of what is even the bloody point-itis and couldn't drag herself up that ridiculous silver stepladder – was that most students were in their lessons at this time of the morning, and so there were only two people in the common room when she came through. Only two people to glance with mild disinterest as she strode up the boys' staircase, shifting her bag strap so the whole lot didn't come clattering down. She was a woman on a mission.

She paused at the doorway to the sixth year's dorm, wondering whether she should knock, but decided that he would probably only ignore it. As she entered, she realised that this was her first time venturing into their dorm (their "sacred space", as Potter liked to describe it, to much eye-rolling from everyone in earshot), and she decided that it was merely professional curiosity that sent her gaze roving keenly around the room. She was essentially an anthropologist, venturing forth to uncover secrets unknown about a mysterious species. Although, as she took in the discarded socks, muddy Quidditch gear, books strewn with their spines cracked up to the ceiling, she could admit to herself that maybe these boys weren't all that mysterious. Fairly typical, in fact, if her visits to Luke Brand's dorm last year had been any indication.

The bed closest to the communal bathroom had its hangings closed. She still would've been able to guess this was Remus' bed, though, since he at least had some respect for books – there was a neat stack of them on the bedside table, alphabetised and diligently bookmarked. She placed her bag on the floor and stepped closer, pausing before clearing her throat. "Remus?" she said, her voice sounding small even in the silence. "Open up or I'm coming in."

She could almost hear the frown, and sure enough, that frown appeared, tremulous, anxious, in a gap in the hangings. "Lily?" He looked pale, exhausted, blinking in the daylight of the dorm.

"That's right," she confirmed brightly, and gave him a smile. "Budge up, will you? I feel a right twat just standing here."

There was a long pause, his face unreadable, before he finally tugged the hangings open fully, shifting up into a sitting position so she could clamber on to the other end of the bed. She crossed her legs neatly, smoothing her skirt down – she didn't want to flash her knickers at the poor bloke too, on top of everything else – and folded her hands in her lap. "Thanks."

He watched her, inscrutable as ever, and it took a few moments before he seemed to realise himself, remember his self-consciousness; he pulled at his pyjamas, covering scars that seemed to sink down his chest like silver thread. He couldn't quite meet her eyes after that. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked eventually.

She gave him a look – or tried to, difficult to catch his eye as it was – and twisted a chunk of fabric from her skirt between her fingers. "Your miscreant friends say you've been even more quiet the past few days," she said. "And I thought it was probably to do with all that horrible shite Severus was throwing at you the other night."

It didn't seem as if he could get much stiller, and yet, he found a way. The gentle pulse of a vein in his temple was the only clue that he was struggling. "I – I don't know what you heard, but – "

"Rem," she interrupted, gently. "I know."

His gaze lifted at that, and she saw something like real, palpable terror in his eyes. It was gutting, to think that he might be so afraid, so used to awful, hideous reactions that it had become all he could expect. "You…know," he murmured, fractures in his voice like broken glass.

"I mean…I've suspected for a while, and…the signs were all there." She paused, and leaned forward, grasping his hand in hers – she couldn't hold back any longer. "Remus, you're my friend. As far as I'm concerned, you're no different to me now than you were a week ago, or a month ago, or a year ago, or six years ago."

He stared down at her hand on his; the tension was coming off him in waves. "Lily, you – you don't have to say that, just to be…I understand if you want to step back, or – or patrol with someone else."

"Oi," she frowned, squeezing his hand; he looked up. "Did you hear what I said? You're my mate and knowing this hasn't changed a bloody thing. You're not a – a monster, or any of the other bollocks Snape said. You're Remus, you're – you're bloody great, okay? Do you hear me?"

He squinted at her, as if her face presented some complex puzzle that you'd need a decoding cypher to understand. "…really?"

She gave him a frustrated sigh. "Yes, really," she confirmed. "I'm sorry that you got all that nonsense from Snape – I'm sorry that maybe some people have been shite before. But that's not what's happening here, okay? You're not losing a friend." She paused thoughtfully. "You're gaining a more informed friend."

A smile finally cracked through that anxious surface. "Sometimes I forget how determined you are."

"I don't know how you could forget," she said airily. "I do my best to remind people."

He watched her a moment. "You and James have more in common than you think."

She frowned slightly, knocked off kilter by the mention of Potter. "Do we?" she asked, as if she didn't care. "Anyway. I've skipped Binns' class with an excuse that I think has scarred Pettigrew for life – does he not know what a menstrual cycle is?"

Remus couldn't help a stronger smile, then. "He does, I gave them all the Talk in third year."

"Anyway," she shrugged. "I'm free and easy now until ten thirty, at which time you and I are going down to the dungeons and showing those potions who's boss."

He ran his hand over his face, not able to wipe away the smile. "Alright," he agreed, and paused. "Thanks, Lily."

She matched his smile with one of her own. "Any time," she replied. "And any time you want to talk…about anything…you know where I am." She leaned back against the bedpost. "Sometimes it helps to have a different perspective."

He nodded slowly. "Yeah…I suppose it does…"

She reached out to give his hand another squeeze. It seemed he had reached his saturation point for emotional outbursts today; she wanted to give him a pleasant distraction. "So," she said cheerfully, "shall we play 'transfigure Potter's things so he doesn't know where anything is'?"

Remus' laughter filled the quiet dorm.

Sirius often found it difficult to concentrate during History of Magic – something in Binns' tuneless drone just seemed to flick the off switch in his ears – but today was even worse than normal. The ghost might as well have not been talking at all for all Sirius heard of his lecture on the Great Goblin Uprising of 1642.

They didn't share this class with the Slytherins, which was probably for the best, since Sirius still felt like his temper was a lit fuse, waiting to burn down. He knew James was right – he really was on his last chance, and giving Snape the battering he so richly deserved would feel gratifying for about five minutes before Dumbledore threw him out of school; bad enough, surely, to be disowned, disinherited, cast off from one's family – no need to add 'expelled for grievous bodily harm' to the list.

Still, knowing James was right didn't make it any easier to cope with. He kept remembering Remus' white face, eyes fixed on the ground as he'd returned to the dorm the other night. Sirius had watched him, had seen the tension set into his shoulders, the stiff straightness of his spine, trying to keep himself upright…but he'd assumed he was just reacting to Sirius' presence there, no one else around to act as a buffer. He should've said something, should've swallowed down his cowardly instincts and asked if his friend was okay. Another failure, another dereliction of duty on his part.

At least he knew that James and Peter were as anxious and angry about the whole situation as he was. Peter had spent the entirety of Binns' lesson frowning out the window, lost in thought. There wasn't a single drop of ink on the parchment in front of him. James seemed, at first, to be taking notes, but when Sirius leaned over to get a better look, he saw what seemed to just be the ramblings of a madman. He saw the words 'attacks', 'Muggleborn rights', 'all living things' and 'organise' from amongst the scribblings, and realised that perhaps James was trying to redirect his fury and frustration into something more positive. It was classic Prongs – he'd never met a problem he didn't want to try and solve.

A small, selfish part of Sirius knew that there was another reason for his own anger (beyond the fact that Snape was an irredeemably heinous, nasty little git): none of it would have happened, could have happened, if Sirius had kept his mouth shut. Snape had had his suspicions, of course, but Sirius had wandered in and presented him with the confirmation of his theories on a ruddy silver platter, and now he could hurl vicious bigoted tripe at Remus as much as liked, as long as he didn't actually tell anyone Remus' secret.

There was no point in going to Dumbledore, either – Snape didn't tell Lily, she'd overheard, and apparently had guessed as much anyway. So it wasn't as if they could move on from this event by cheering as Snape was thrown unceremoniously out on his bony behind. No. All there was were repercussions, even more reasons for Remus to hate Sirius, because it was his selfish, thoughtless behaviour that had landed them in this mess to begin with.

A flash of memory, then, of being on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, heart still racing after being wrenched from his nightmares, eyes wide and unblinking, tears still damp on his cheeks; and all along, Moony sat at his side, quiet, reassuring in his stillness, the gentle curl of his words like a blanket round his shoulders, the crisp, clean scent of him, the warmth of his arm next to his. Remus might not have felt like he'd done much to help that night, but to Sirius, it had been everything. And now, he wasn't sure if Remus would let them be that close again.

The bell signalled the end of the lesson, and the students hauled themselves up and off to their next class: for most of the Gryffindors, NEWT Potions.

James and Sirius settled themselves into their usual bench at the back of the dungeon, watching as others filtered in. Snape entered with Avery, and Sirius felt James tense up in unison with him. It was an October miracle that they both managed to stay silent and seated.

Just as Sirius was beginning to think that Lily had not been successful in her quest, she came into the classroom, arm looped through Remus' and chatting merrily. To most, this was not an unusual sight, but Sirius noticed immediately how Snape stopped mid-conversation, watching the pair as they made their way to the bench in front of James and Sirius, his face fixed in a frown of confusion and anger.

James leaned forward. "Morning, Moony," he said; Remus turned to give his friend a small smile. "You'll be glad to know you missed precisely bugger all in History of Magic just now."

"I'm sure your notes will be as rigorous as ever," Remus replied, glancing briefly, fleetingly, at Sirius before he turned back to face the front.

Sirius watched as he leaned in to murmur something to Lily, who smiled and muttered a quick reply. That was all he could witness, though, before Professor Slughorn bustled in and called their attention to the front.

Sirius decided to actually concentrate on the lesson – as if that alone might convince Remus to forgive him – and so went about taking careful notes and not purposely going out of his way to sabotage his and James' attempt at the memory-mending elixir they were studying today. This focus held up quite well, all told, until close to the end of the session when he overheard two low, intense voices in the ingredients store cupboard behind him.

" – how you can pal around with him – "

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise I'd asked for your opinion."

Sirius stilled. It took all of his willpower not to turn round and punch Snape right in the nose.

"He must've said I was lying, but I wasn't, Lily. He is a – "

"Stop." Lily's voice was sharp, cold. "He didn't say you were lying. I know all about it." There was a pause. "Could you please move? I need the newt eyes."

A shuffling of footsteps. "But – if you know – "

"He's my friend," was her simple reply. "And you are not."

Sirius saw Lily emerge from the store cupboard, resisting the urge to give her a standing ovation as she went, and it was a minute or two before Snape followed, looking mutinous.

Well, if Sirius hadn't respected Lily before…he certainly did now.

He turned back to James, who was laser-focused on their potion, hair even wilder than normal from the humidity. "So you're plotting a revolution, are you?" he asked.

James looked up, briefly confused, before he nodded. "I'm fed up with good people being treated like shit," he replied, gesturing widely with the long-handled spoon he was using. "It's not right. Something has to change."

Sirius couldn't help but feel that, although he made for a slightly mad-looking rebel leader, James might just be the sort of person who could do something. "Well, whatever you're planning…I'm in."

James gave him a small but determined smile. "Knew I could count on you, Padfoot."

Perhaps knowing that most of the school were headed to Hogsmeade, the next day dawned with an insistent squall of sleet that refused to let up. The fine, blinding slush pelted from the sky as they lined up for carriages, as they trundled down to the village, as they gathered outside Zonko's. Remus was hard pressed to feel too irritated, though – it felt wonderful to have a change of scenery, even if it was one viewed through a miserable, stinging lens.

James had reminded him of the scavenger hunt plan the night before, and between the two of them it had taken all of forty minutes to rework Slughorn's randomiser charm to suit their purposes. Peter had helped them make copies of the hunt list, pleased to be a part of the project. It had almost felt like a normal evening again.

It had helped, of course, that Sirius had spent the evening in his weekly detention with McGonagall. But Remus didn't want to think about that.

Mary had made posters and plastered them around the common room, as well as handing them out to friends in other houses. Now, a surprisingly large group had gathered outside the joke shop, chattering idly and handing over three sickles as an entrance fee.

"Right you 'orrible lot!" Mary's voice rang out cheerfully; within seconds, she had everyone's attention. "The rules are simple: teams of three, no stealing, nothing illegal to get your list filled. First team to our independent adjudicators – " she nodded at Marlene and James, who looked suitably sombre. " - in the Three Broomsticks wins the entrance fee pot. Any questions?"

"How much is the prize pot?" Lambeth Shaw called out from beneath a thick, dark blue scarf.

Mary rolled her eyes. "C'mon, Lam, even a broken bowtruckle can do that kind of maths," she replied. "Look at the crowd, multiply it by three sickles per person – it'll be a decent amount, okay?"

"How do we know those two won't just favour the Gryffindors?" asked David Garnet with a cheeky grin in James' direction. There was a longstanding, mainly friendly Quidditch rivalry between the two team captains.

James held his hands up in innocence. "There are no favourites in a scavenger hunt," he replied. "I would never want to betray the purity of the competition."

"Alright, alright, we have to be trusting of someone, and they volunteered not to win all that dosh themselves," Mary added. "So, if you don't like it, you can – "

"Nicely go away," Lily interjected.

"Hmm." Mary shot her friend a look. "Right. You were given a bit of parchment when you paid the entry fee – "

"Oh, was that important?" Kasim Choudry frowned. "I put my bubble gum in it…"

"More fool you, Kas," Mary rolled her eyes, but handed him a fresh piece anyway. "After three, tap your wand against it three times and the list will appear. Good luck!"

She hurried over to Lily and Dorcas, the latter of whom looked almost terrifyingly ready to compete. Remus wasn't sure he wanted to cross her. He wandered over to Peter, not having thought about who he would team up with yet. "Want to be mediocre at this together?"

Peter turned, opening his mouth to reply – but was drowned out by Mary bellowing, "Three…two…ONE!"

There was a flurry of excitement as the crowd performed the simple charm and the lists populated the parchments, and before long most people had dashed off to start the hunt. Remus turned back to Peter, finding Sirius standing sheepishly next to him.

"Pads asked earlier," Peter explained awkwardly.

"Sorry, I – I thought you might go with Lily," Sirius spoke up, or rather, mumbled into his scarf.

Remus drew in a slow breath. "It's fine," he replied, and it sounded like it was. "We can be a three."

Sirius looked unsure. "Really? 'Cause I can just go sit in the 'Sticks – "

"It's fine," Remus said again, more than anything just wanting this discussion to be finished. "Let's get cracking."

"Most of the other teams headed off to the first thing on the list," Peter noted, studying their parchment carefully. He took this sort of thing very seriously. "I say we start at the bottom of the list, avoid the crowds."

"Good idea," Remus agreed, shoving his hands in his cloak pockets – the sleet was almost horizontal now, the wind sending it flying into their faces. "And maybe we can divide and conquer? It doesn't take three of us to – " He paused, leaning in to read the list more closely. " – to get Scrivenshaft's shop assistant to give us a paper bag with the word 'PAINT' written on it." He frowned. "Crikey, I'm not sure I noticed how truly random the randomiser charm was…"

"Charming a shop assistant sounds like Padfoot's specialty," Peter decided; Sirius nodded. "Moony, you go for the business card from Flanson's Bakery. I'll get a butterbeer mat from the Hog's Head. Meet back here in five minutes?"

A plan agreed, they split off on their tasks, Remus bowing his head against the onslaught of wind and icy slush. This was the sort of in-between weather he hated: he needed it to just commit to the cold and fully snow. Then, although you could freeze your nads off, at least the scenery was stunning to make up for it. Especially around the castle – the Forbidden Forest glittered like a freshly-iced Christmas cake. As he picked his way through the crowds on the high street and through to the alley that led through to the next row of shops, he wondered idly if it might be snowing by the next Full.

Of course, the next Full presented its own problems. He never looked forward to them – why would he? But the approaching Full just stirred up all the frustrations and sadness he'd been trying to keep under control the past few weeks. He was just barely on speaking terms with Sirius as it was; how could he trust him enough to do their usual moon night, larking around the forest as if nothing had changed? Even just the thought of it made him feel sick with nerves. He also knew that, with Snape's knowledge of his lycanthropy, he'd be under even heavier scrutiny than ever before. Just because the boy was forbidden from telling anyone about it, didn't mean he couldn't still make life very difficult for Remus – as he'd proven earlier that week. He didn't want to be a weakling, a person who needed an entourage to move around the castle for fear of being cornered by Snape. There didn't seem to be a straightforward answer, a way to deal with all of these issues, so he carried on with the tried and tested repression approach; while pushing it all down wasn't helping, it was better than letting the anxieties percolate and strengthen in his weary brain.

Shaking off this thought, he made quick work of his task, and within minutes was back at the meeting point. Peter was nowhere to be seen – his task was the trickiest, in fairness, given the barman of the Hog's was notoriously taciturn and unwilling to do anything that might be considered "for a laugh" – but, as Remus sat on a bench to wait, he saw Sirius' dark head emerge through the veil of sleet. Bugger.

"Oh, hi," his friend said, realising it was just the two of them at roughly the same time Remus did. "Pete not back yet?"

Remus held his gaze a moment. "No, here he is," he replied drily, gesturing to the empty spot next to him. "Trying out a new look."

Sirius snorted. "Alright, sarky." He paused, seeming to remember that things were decidedly different between them now – they weren't exactly on joking terms. Or were they? Remus was too tired of it all to care at the moment. "He's got the parchment, too."

"Yep," Remus confirmed, glancing down the high street again. "Didn't think that one through, did we?" He looked back up at Sirius, standing awkwardly nearby, stiff and nervy. "You can sit down, you know."

"Right." Sirius moved to plonk himself down on the bench, leaving a large gap between them. Another thing different: last year, he'd sat so close to Remus that he was often as good as in his lap. Remus didn't want to analyse whether he was bothered about that or not. "So we'll wait, then."

Remus nodded, rubbing his hands together in an attempt at warmth. His gloves were at least three years old now, not really big enough anymore, and certainly worn thin from use. He made a mental note to ask for some new ones for Christmas, and was just wondering whether he could ask for gloves and a new book, when – his hands felt much warmer.

He looked down, then over at Sirius, noting the subtle ripple of magic in the air between them. A warming charm. Sirius was staring at his boots, scuffing the toe against the paving stones. He almost looked…embarrassed. "Thanks," Remus murmured.

Sirius lifted his gaze. "You're welcome, Moony."

They stared at each other for a long moment, Remus feeling an odd flush up his neck, before they finally looked away - Peter had appeared, breathless and cheery. "Right, that's three down!" he crowed, then paused, looking between them. "Alright?"

Remus swallowed. This was going to be a long day. "Alright," he agreed.

The pub was as busy as ever, crowded with Hogwarts students – most of the locals knew to stay well clear when it was a Hogsmeade weekend for the school. Rosmerta had taken on two new staff members to help with the rush: a wizard who looked so much like Rosmerta that he might've been her brother, and a young witch with the killer combination of glossy blonde hair, bright blue eyes and –

"Huge tits," Marlene marvelled, watching from their position at a table by the windows. She shook her head, her gaze following the blonde as she bustled about pouring butterbeers. "No wonder she's so popular."

It was true: the blonde had a queue about fifteen people deep, mainly blokes, while the wizard at the other end of the bar only had a few people waiting. "She's got an accent, too," James offered. "That's always a draw, isn't it?"

Marlene shot him a smirk. "Everyone's got an accent compared to you, Mr R.P. Potter."

He scowled. "I'm not that posh, Marl!"

"I suppose there are posher," she allowed, taking a swig of her drink. "But still. You're pretty middle-of-the-road England, aren't you."

He gave her a nudge. "My point, before you went and slagged off the way I speak, is that our blonde friend over there has a lovely Irish accent." He paused thoughtfully. "Boys find it soothing."

"Girls do too," Marlene replied.

He finally tore his gaze away from the woman, looking at his friend instead. "Also, don't think I've forgotten you talking about her tits," he told her. "If I'd said that, you'd have hexed my balls off."

"I know," Marlene sighed sympathetically. "It's a cruel double standard, isn't it?"

He rolled his eyes. "Who d'you think is going to win this thing, then?" he asked, glancing at his watch. They'd been sat there for almost two hours now, conversation ranging from Puddlemere United to family holidays to, at one particular low point, their favourite colours. (Marlene's was purple. James was partial to green. It had been a very short talking point.) "It won't be too long now before someone turns up…"

"If Dor doesn't win, there'll be hell to pay," Marlene considered. "She's terrifyingly competitive."

"She always looks so serene and friendly," James shook his head.

"All an act," she told him. "She's a monster."

James grinned. "Noted."

"Who do you think?" she asked. "Your merry band of ne'er-do-wells?"

James snorted. "I doubt it. Pete has the fighting spirit, but he'll be held back by the other two."

"Sirius does like to seem too cool to care about this sort of thing," she allowed, then paused. "He seems…a bit better." She scrunched up her nose, and corrected, "or at least, less angry."

"I think he is," James agreed quietly. "Things are still…complicated."

Marlene was quiet for a few moments; he looked up and over at her, trying to work out her expression. "It's not just about his family, is it," she said at last. He shook his head without a word. "And… I don't think it's just about whatever has happened between him and Remus, either," she added.

James frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

She hesitated. "I don't know. I just…sense there's more to it. That he doesn't want to acknowledge." She shrugged. "This is all guess work. He's hardly a feelings-sharer at the best of times, is he…"

"Not really," he agreed, raking his fingers through his hair. "But I think he's trying to change that. To get a better handle on his temper."

Marlene smiled grimly. "Better late than never, eh?"

James took a long sip of his drink, pausing before speaking again. "Marl – do you think – "

But his question, and what would have been a no doubt forthright answer, were lost to a scramble of bodies appearing: Kasim and his teammates had sprinted in ahead of Dorcas, Lily and Mary. The fourth year practically hurled himself across their table to present a sack full to the brim with scavenged items. "We did it!" he declared, raising his arms in victory and knocking James' drink over in the process. "We DID IT!"

"Cheats!" Dorcas was shouting as she marched across the pub. "You shoved me out of the way, Choudry! That's some pretty dirty tactics!"

"He bumped into you, that's all," Kasim's teammate, Robert Turner, informed her haughtily. "Don't be a sore loser."

"A sore – " Dorcas turned to Lily, so enraged she couldn't seem to speak. "A sore – "

"Okay, let's get you a drink," Lily laughed, wrapping her arm round her friend's shoulders to guide her away; as she did so, she briefly caught James' eye, offering him a small, awkward smile before she looked away again.

James watched them go, distracted from the dramatic ceremony Kasim and Robert were enacting as Marlene handed over the prize money. It was certainly nice to be friends with Evans instead of pissing her off at every turn, although it was sometimes hard to remember that he had decided to leave any feelings beyond friendship behind in the summer. Especially when he saw how thoughtful and kind she was to Remus…

He shook his head, returning his attention to the table. Kasim and Robert had already swaggered off to the bar; Marlene was watching him with a knowing smirk. "What?" he asked self-consciously.

"Oh," Marlene replied lightly. "Nothing…"

Lily leaned against the bar, trying to catch someone's attention to order another round of drinks. In the hour they'd been ensconced in the pub, she'd managed to avoid going up to the bar and having to navigate the crowds there. But she was no round-dodger, and when it was her turn, she'd gathered her energy and put on a brave face. She was a Gryffindor, after all.

The blonde witch had her hands full with about twenty drooling Hogwarts boys; Rosmerta had disappeared, presumably for a well-earned break. That left her trying to catch the eye of the other man behind the bar, who acted as if every paying customer was a huge inconvenience. With a sigh, she rested her elbow on the sticky bar surface and her chin in her hand: she was going to have to be in this for the long haul.

"I think we'd have better luck being served in the Hog's Head." She turned to the source of the voice, recognising the handsome seventh year Ravenclaw who'd helped her with her trunk at King's Cross. She'd seen him a few times in passing since then – he always gave her a friendly grin, and even, once, to Mary's delight, a wink – but she still hadn't worked out his name. "But what you gain in speed of service, you lose in general stench."

She laughed. "True. I think I'll stick it out here."

"Wise." He leaned against the bar next to her. "You're Lily Evans, right?"

"Right," she confirmed, embarrassed to find herself blushing. "I'm sorry, I've forgotten your name…"

He gave her an easy smile. "No need to be sorry," he replied. "Raphael Thicknesse, But everyone calls me Rafe."

God, even his name was cool. "Thicknesse," she repeated thoughtfully. " That rings a bell…"

He looked sheepish. "My dad's deputy head of the DMLE," he replied. "He gets in the Prophet quite a lot. I usually wait till the third date before I drop that tedious fact."

She smiled, raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm sorry," she teased. "Are you saying this is a date? Bumping into me propped up against the bar on a Saturday afternoon?"

Rafe grinned, blue eyes twinkling. "Anything can become a date if you try hard enough."

She blushed again, looking away for a moment. "Are you here with your mates?"

He nodded, gesturing over to a group of seventh years clustered together in a booth. "Taking a break from essay writing and revision to blow off some steam," he replied. "You?"

She wasn't sure why she felt strange pointing out her own group – Mary, Dorcas and Marlene were sitting with the Marauders, although now that she was looking, she noticed that James seemed more focused on the bar area than the people in front of him. "Staying out of the cold," she replied, meeting Rafe's gaze again. He had such an air of ease about him; it was entrancing. "Still, it's been nice to get a change of scenery."

"It has," he agreed, and paused, holding her gaze. "Refreshing, even."

She swallowed.

The miserable barkeep finally arrived. "What're you having?"

Rafe shot Lily a questioning look. "Three butterbeers, four Ogden's Old, and a Gillywater – what are you lot wanting?"

She shook her head. "No, c'mon, I can get my own round – "

"Lily Evans," he cut her off with a smile. "I won't take no for an answer."

She paused, then sighed. "Eight butterbeers, please," she told the barkeep, who simply grunted and moved to start gathering their order. She looked back at Rafe. "You really don't have to."

"Well, you could make it up to me," he considered lightly. "Next Hogsmeade weekend?"

Her ears must surely have been bright red by now. "As…a date?"

He smiled. "Ideally, yes."

"Okay," she replied, probably far too quickly to be cool. "Lovely. Thanks." Yep, definitely not cool.

Rafe handed over a pile of coins to the barman, and even offered to help Lily carry her round back to her table, but she was determined not to seem like a completely helpless idiot in front of this exceedingly good-looking bloke, so she politely refused. They parted ways, him giving another wink and murmuring, "looking forward to the next time, Lily," before he headed back to his booth.

Lily was still blushed a furious tomato red when she made it back to her table, not helped by Mary pouncing immediately. "Was that your hottie Ravenclaw flirt?" she demanded.

"It was," she admitted, sliding back into her seat between Remus and Dorcas. "He's called Rafe."

"Ooh," Mary craned her neck to see if she could spot him across the crowded pub. "Now that is a cool name. Did he flirt some more?"

Lily tried mumbling her reply into her mug of butterbeer; she was all too aware that everyone's attention was on her.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Lily sighed. "He asked me out," she repeated, a bit louder this time.

Mary squealed with delight. "Yes! Get in there, my friend!" She leaned across the table, pulling Lily's hand in the air for a forced high five. "You two are going to make a gorgeous couple!"

Lily rolled her eyes, looking away from her friend – and catching sight of an inscrutable expression on James' face. He was staring with determination out of the window. She shook her head a little, looking away again. "Let's not get too ahead of ourselves, eh?"

"I'm glad the day wasn't a complete wash," Dorcas spoke up wistfully. "Even if we had victory cruelly snatched from our hands by a pair of feckless cheats – "

"Fucking hell, Dor, give it a rest, will you?" Marlene interjected.

" – feckless cheats," Dorcas repeated, pointedly, "Lily was still able to make a romance connection." She paused. "And I got a new self-inking quill."

Lily smiled. "You make a good point, Dorry."

"So, another scavenger hunt in a few months?" James spoke up at last, and everyone's gaze shifted to him. Lily decided that he probably wasn't trying to change the subject. "Since this one was a roaring success…"

"Definitely," Mary agreed, raising her butterbeer mug. "To us, and our amazing ideas!"

"To Mary, and her overwhelming humility," Marlene raised her glass with a cackle.

That night, Sirius slept better than he had in months. Maybe it was all the fresh air. Maybe it was all the butterbeer combined with the couple of shots of firewhiskey they'd managed to sneak in. But Sirius thought it was more likely the fact that Remus had actually talked to him – had spent most of the day with him, in fact. Yes, it had been extremely awkward most of the time. Yes, Moony's face had largely remained a closed-off mystery when he looked in Sirius' direction. But it was more contact, more interaction than they'd had since…well. He was happy to take what he could get.

The day in Hogsmeade seemed to have settled them all somewhat: although you could hardly say that things were back to normal, the edge Sirius had felt he was teetering on seemed to become less of an edge and more of a ledge. A bit more stable, a bit more space. Remus came down to meals with them now, and sat with them in lessons – although always with James, Peter or Lily, never with Sirius. It was fine, he told himself. Small steps.

As the month drew to a close, conversation turned to his impending birthday.

"Seventeen, mate," James had said, as if Sirius needed reminding of his own age. "We can't just let it slide past."

"It hardly seems the time for a party, though," Sirius had pointed out in return. "I know things are better, but they're not that much better."

James had nodded thoughtfully, and Sirius considered the matter dropped until the Halloween feast when he'd addressed the gathered throng (the Marauders and the sixth year Gryffindor girls, but James liked to call them a throng). "Our venerable Mr Black is coming of age," he'd announced, "and to celebrate, we will be hosting a small gathering in our dorm." At Sirius' expression, he'd added, "Not a party, just…a group of friends. Drinking. Eating cake."

Sirius had glanced at Remus then, but his face gave nothing away – in fact, he'd just laughed at Mary's question about the dress code. "Black tie optional," had been James' smirking response.

His birthday fell on a Wednesday – "hardly a day for partying – I mean, gathering," James had sighed, as if the calendar had been out to get him – and the Full was the following Sunday, so it was decided that Friday would be the best evening to celebrate. Remus would be tired, he always was in the days leading up to the Full, but in a darn sight better state than if they waited until afterwards.

The day itself passed with a small amount of fanfare: James leapt on him first thing in the morning, shouting, "happy birthday, you old bastard!", and Euphemia and Fleamont had sent a large parcel containing a card, several generous gifts and a box containing a humungous chocolate cake. James handed over his own pile of presents, while Peter presented Sirius with a new record from both him and Remus (who had mumbled a quiet "happy birthday" on his way to the shower).

Given the past few months, he felt that this was a pretty decent birthday, all things considered.

Friday rolled around, and the girls piled into their dorm. James had arranged pillows and blankets around the floor, as well as transfiguring other things into cushions. An array of food had been acquired from the kitchens, sitting alongside their illegal stash of booze on top of Peter's desk. The record Pete and Remus had given him – AC/DC's High Voltage, which Lily declared "quintessential Sirius" – was playing. It wasn't long before things got a bit sloppy.

Everyone was a few drinks in and sprawled bonelessly on the floor when the conversation turned to the romantic goings-on of the castle. "And then she dumped him, right there at the table!" Mary was saying, shaking her head. "Absolutely brutal. I feel sorry for the lad."

"You called him a berk not two hours ago," Lily pointed out.

"What's a berk?" Peter asked, reaching for the bottle of firewhiskey.

Lily and Mary exchanged a grin. "Well, Pete, it's Cockney rhyming slang," Mary replied sweetly. "You know, like apples and pears means stairs?"

"Right," Peter agreed, still frowning in confusion.

"So, berk is short for Berkshire hunt," Mary carried on. She looked absolutely delighted to be telling him this. "Which rhymes with – "

"Oh!" Peter flushed bright red. "Crikey, I didn't realise." He turned to send an accusing look at James. "You called me a berk the other morning!"

"No offence meant, Mr Pettigrew," James laughed.

"Anyway," Mary sighed dramatically. "Now that those two have broken up, she'll be on the prowl. Keep hold of your boxers, lads."

"Oh no," Peter replied flatly, "please protect me from the beautiful girl coming near my pants."

"Of course, it won't be long before Lily and Ravishing Rafe go to Hogsmeade together and set the gossip wheel a'turning," Dorcas said, looking up from her slab of cake. "Could be the new golden couple."

Lily rolled her eyes; Sirius could sense that she was feeling uncomfortable talking about it. "Calm down, I barely know the bloke…"

"And maybe I'll be part of the next Hogwarts golden couple," Marlene interjected. "Ever think of that?"

"You and who?"

"I dunno," she shrugged. "I could find the love of my life in the next two weeks, you know."

"Stranger things have happened," James agreed.

Marlene grinned. "Exactly! Like you saving Snape's life."

The air in the room seemed to deaden; Sirius' breath was caught briefly in his throat. James looked over at him, a soft, sympathetic look which he wasn't sure he deserved.

It was Lily who jumped in. "We might need to start introducing you to new blokes, then, if you want to find the love of your life in the next fortnight."

Marlene smiled sweetly. "Blokes, birds – I'm open to suggestions."

Several gazes snapped to her at that remark, but Sirius wasn't surprised. Even when they were shagging, they'd discussed this sort of thing. "We'll start making a list," he told her lightly.

Peter shook off the look of surprise on his face fairly quickly. "If we're making lists, I could do with one too…"

"Wait, what about Iris Fenwick?" Mary demanded. "You two've only been going out a few weeks!"

Peter shrugged. "Some things are not meant to be," he said, trying to sound philosophical but mainly just sounding tipsy.

"Nothing wrong with being a bachelor, Pete," James spoke up.

"Now, you are another quandary," Mary grinned, turning to him now. "If the Quidditch captain with abs you could eat your dinner off of can't get a girlfriend, then no one can."

"How nice of you to have noticed my abs," James replied with a wink.

"Hard not to, the way you flash them about," Dorcas added. "I'm surprised you haven't taken your shirt off yet tonight, this must be a new record."

"Alright, alright," James waved her off. "We're here to celebrate Padfoot, not rip me to shreds."

"To Padfoot!" Peter echoed, raising his glass.

"Oh, sweetie," Mary wrapped her arm round James' shoulder, and shot Sirius a smirk. "There's no reason we can't do both."

Nothing had really changed.

It felt more like he'd just…given up.

Why bother putting them all through this, this medieval shunning? He could no longer see the purpose it held.

Because of course, Sirius would be let back in the fold. Of course, James would warm back up to him. Of course, Peter would forget why they'd fallen out in the first place.

He remembered, vividly, James telling him that he wasn't taking Sirius' side. He remembered staring out across the lake, thinking about how deep the water was, how cold it would be. He remembered the hurt, the ache inside him that thought, but Sirius doesn't have a side. He's in the wrong.

That was when he realised, as kind as James was, as deeply as he cared, he didn't understand the full scope of this pain. None of them did, really. Lucky for them they didn't – that they'd never felt like the friendships they had were little more than bargaining chips, playing pieces to move and secure victory over an enemy. Lucky that they'd never felt used up and cast aside. Lucky that they'd never felt like a thing rather than a person.

He couldn't say all this to James. He couldn't say it to anyone. So he did as he was expected to do: he looked at Sirius; he spoke dull mediocrities with Sirius, like "pass the salt" or "what did McGonagall just say?"; he sat near Sirius at dinner and breakfast and lunch as if he was just like he had been before, and not this scooped-out, worn-thin shell of a Remus Lupin, a boy who so desperately wanted and desperately didn't want someone to just ask, hang on, are you okay?

He even chipped in for a bloody birthday present.

He sat there, between Lily and Peter, and listened. Listened, and watched, as Marlene made some joking comment about James saving Snape's life – listened to the dull silence that followed, and watched as James and Peter both looked to Sirius with sympathy. As if he was the one who needed it. As if Remus hadn't been a part of it at all.

After that exchange, something in his brain had just shut down. He barely paid attention, just drank, and stared out the window, the waxing face of the moon staring back at him, knowing, waiting. When they called it a night, he stumbled to his bed, wishing he could squash down the feelings that were rising inside him. A tumult, sadness and anger and jealousy and loneliness, all entwined like vines on a branch, impossible to pick one off without tugging at and revealing another. Someone hadn't closed the curtains at the window, and moonlight hung over him, making it easier to see where his fingernails were digging so fiercely into his palm that they drew blood, to see where the lines of tension ran up his arms alongside the silvery tributaries of scars.

Here, in this room with three other boys, three boys who knew him better than anyone else in the world, he'd never felt so alone in his life.

As he forced his eyes closed against the bitter sting of tears, he thought that he probably should get used to this feeling.