Chapter 9: Coming Through in Waves

There should not have been anything particularly special about breakfast on a Wednesday morning. Sirius had dragged himself reluctantly out of bed, knowing that if he didn't eat anything now he'd be chewing his own arm off by mid-morning, although it was tempting to just close his eyes and sleep for a while longer. A restful night of sleep was not something he took for granted anymore; more often than not, he woke regularly from disturbed and disturbing dreams. He was starting to forget what he looked like without dark shadows under his eyes.

James and Peter were bickering as they made their way down to the Great Hall – about what, Sirius did not care, choosing to tune them out in favour of thinking over his schedule for the day. He was paying such little attention, in fact, that he walked straight into the back of the pair when they stopped abruptly at the entrance to the hall.

"Oi," he groused, "I bloody well almost fell arse over – "

But the words died in his throat as he saw what James and Peter had already spotted.

Remus. Moony. Their Moony, sat there at the Gryffindor table, eating a bacon sandwich as if he hadn't just been missing in action for almost a month. He hadn't seen them yet, too busy listening to whatever Evans was saying in the seat opposite his.

Sirius just stood there, staring at him for what was probably an awkward amount of time, drinking in the sight of him – from what he could tell, he looked basically the same as he always did. There was a new scar snaking down his neck (which reminded Sirius that it had just been the full – another reason to feel guilty), but otherwise he looked reasonably healthy. It was impossible to tell how he was feeling: he'd always been very good at masking his emotions, and Sirius had long ago learnt not to take his friend at face value. Just because he looked amiable enough, sitting there with Evans and Meadowes at his elbow, didn't mean he was going to be happy to see Sirius.

"Pads," James' voice, although quiet, cut through his reverie; he turned his head to meet his gaze. "Okay?"

Sirius nodded. This wasn't about if he was okay. He just prayed that he could hold things together long enough not to fuck anything up even more than it already was.

They made their way along the table, stopping behind Remus. Evans looked up, giving them a small, slightly nervous smile. "Morning, chaps."

Remus stilled, then glanced over his shoulder – it could have almost looked casual. Almost. "Morning," he added.

James gaped at him. "Morning?" he repeated, and there was a tense moment where even Remus looked unsure – before James threw himself at his friend, hauling him up out of his seat to hug him with an intensity not often seen in public. "Morning, he says! Morning!"

"Well," Remus' voice was muffled, "it is morning…"

"Morning," James said again, squeezing Remus even tighter. "I ask you…"

"Okay, ow," Remus said, managing to extricate himself from the vice-like grip. "I recently broke those ribs, remember?"

"Fuck, sorry mate," James cringed, but the expression soon gave way to a beaming smile. "It's so bloody great to see you, Moony! We missed the pants off you!"

Remus raised an eyebrow, glancing briefly at Peter, then Sirius, as if they were sharing a sardonic joke and not having an awkward reunion after his fleeing from the castle. "The pants, eh?"

"You didn't write back," Peter blurted out. "Are you okay?"

There was a flash of something else on Remus' carefully-arranged expression, something harder to parse, but it was gone before Sirius could really analyse it. "Sorry. Time got away from me," he replied, in classic, non-replying Remus fashion. "I'm back now."

A short silence where they all decided how to proceed. Sirius felt like he was losing his mind – was Moony really just going to sweep back in here, pretend that nothing had happened, and try to carry on as normal? It definitely fit his modus operandi, but surely even Remus couldn't ignore this?

Evans was the one who broke the quiet. "You lot going to sit down? Or can I eat your share of the bacon?"

James looked over at her, forcing up a smile. "Nice try, Evans," he replied, swinging his legs over the bench to sit next to Remus. "I know my rights."

"Bacon is part of your rights, is it?" Dorcas asked mildly.

"An integral part, yes," James agreed as Sirius and Peter manoeuvred themselves to find seats too. Sirius ended up opposite James; he focused intently on his breakfast so that he wouldn't stare too blatantly at their newly-returned friend. "And I won't have anyone stealing my portion."

Dorcas and Lily exchanged a weary glance, eyebrows raised.

"So what have we been talking about?" James asked, who hated awkward silences more than most things in the world.

"I was just updating Remus on the latest news from the castle," Lily replied, pouring herself a cup of tea.

"Although you forgot one key piece of information," Dorcas countered, pointing a butter knife at her friend. "Your whirlwind romance."

"Oh…" Lily blushed, her gaze flicking from Dorcas to Remus to – inexplicably – James, before returning to her breakfast. "Well, 'whirlwind romance' is a bit of an intense way to phrase it…"

Remus raised his eyebrows. "Got yourself a gentleman caller, have you?"

"Rafe Thicknesse," Dorcas replied for her, gleefully. "One of seventh years' most eligible bachelors."

"Certainly the one with the least ability on a broomstick," Sirius interjected, for James' benefit. His friend shot him a grateful glance.

"Thicknesse?" Remus repeated, looking thoughtful. "I thought he was going out with – " He cut himself off and quickly shook his head. "Must be confusing him with someone else. That's great, Lily."

Lily looked as flustered as ever. "It's not a big deal. It's still early days," she replied. "But…he is lovely."

Sirius didn't see the appeal in Thicknesse at all – nothing against the bloke, but he was as dull as dishwater, as far as he was concerned. Staid and ordinary. And maybe, conventionally handsome, but Sirius thought there were far fitter blokes attending this school. Not that he'd ever thought about that much.

His eyes drifted briefly to Remus, who was adding more ketchup to his bacon sandwich.

"And Iris and I got back together," Peter piped up.

James frowned. "What? When?"

"Last week," Peter looked hurt. "Remember? I told you all about our encounter in the second floor spare classroom…"

Sirius had a feeling he'd been there for that conversation, too, but didn't remember any of the details. He could admit that he hadn't been a particularly good friend lately.

"Oh, right," James said, unconvincingly. "Of course."

"That's great, Pete," Remus added, warmth in his voice. Merlin, he'd missed that voice. "I'm happy for you."

"Thanks, Moons." Peter smiled brightly, basking in the attention he hadn't exactly been receiving for the past almost-month. "We're one of those great romances, you know. Like Romeo and Juliet."

Lily cleared her throat. "You do know what happens at the end of that play, right, Pete?"

Peter frowned. "They live happily ever after?"

Back in the summer after fourth year, Sirius had borrowed Remus' copy of the Unabridged Shakespeare plays – mainly to irritate his mother, who declared such things as 'Muggle filth'. He'd been surprised how much he'd enjoyed them. "Miscommunication leads to double suicide," Sirius said. Remus looked over at him, almost seeming surprised. "Just try not to get banished from the kingdom and you'll probably be fine."

"Sound advice," Dorcas agreed. "Probably could be applied to most situations."

Sirius didn't eat much the rest of the meal: he was too busy trying not to stare at Remus, trying to get his head around the fact that the thing he'd been waiting for now for so long had finally happened – he was back, he was there, in front of him, eating and talking and seeming like himself. Sirius was terrified that he might blink awake at any moment and find himself back in his bed, with Remus' empty four-poster to his left.

At least they had lessons together all morning – plenty of time for him to watch him out of the corner of his eye, to make sure he really was here, that he was real and not a dream.

He could figure everything else out later.

It didn't take long for James to confirm his suspicions that Remus was going to try to pretend that nothing had happened, that nothing had changed. Their friend was sweetly predictable that way. There he'd been, sat at breakfast like it was no big deal; throughout the day, he'd sat with them in lessons; at lunch, he'd made a joke about the Slytherin's still-raw Quidditch loss; at dinner, he'd chatted amiably with Dorcas and Peter about their plans for the Christmas break. Anyone else would have thought that nothing was amiss, that there was no cause for concern. James knew better.

Sure enough, as they'd risen from the dinner table and James had plotted how he was going to corner Moony and explain his best friend status in no uncertain terms, Remus had asked Evans if she wanted to join him in the library. "Quite a bit of work to catch up on," he'd said with a wry smile, the only allusion he'd really made since breakfast that he'd been away at all.

Evans had been only too happy to keep him company, and he stayed away from the Tower until curfew, at which point he explained to the Marauders – sat around the fire, basically waiting for his return – that he was exhausted from the recent full, bid them a cheerful good night, and disappeared up the stairs.

"It's actually quite impressive," Peter remarked, shaking his head. "To be that in control of your emotions. I'd have cracked by now."

"Impressive," James agreed morosely, "and infuriating. How are we supposed to make things right if he dances around the bloody thing?"

Sirius, seated to his left, heaved a sigh. "I could probably wind him up enough to get him to break?" he suggested – James thought he was probably only partly joking.

Remus spent the next few days managing to not initiate any meaningful conversation: everything was jovial, surface-level. The way that James talked to his aunties when underneath it all, he just wanted to go outside and muck around on his broom. In fact, it was nearly a week later before Moony brought up anything of significance, and even then, he hadn't realised that it would be when it happened.

"What's SWEN?" Remus asked, peering over James' shoulder in the common room after lunch. They had a study period, in theory, although Sirius and Peter were using it to play chess, and James' attention had been similarly elsewhere.

Now, he glanced up at his friend, then to the parchment in front of him where Remus' attention was drawn. "Oh! It's – well, I'm meeting with McGonagall after dinner, actually, about all this – it's all just in the early stages."

"Yes," Remus agreed, squinting to try to decipher James' scrawled, cramped handwriting. "But what is it?"

"Students Want Equality Now." James set his quill down. "It's the only acronym I could think of. I spent ages thinking of them, but most were unreadable or borderline offensive…"

Moony frowned slightly. "Students Want Equality Now?" he repeated.

"We do," James nodded with a self-conscious grin. "Wizarding society has to stop acting like you don't belong unless you fall under a very narrow and incest-riddled set of guidelines. 'Pureblood' my arse." He paused, then added, "'Dark creature', my arse, too."

Remus went quiet, chewing on his lower lip. He couldn't seem to look up from James' parchment to look him in the eye. "Right," he said eventually.

"Bad things happen if we all just sit back and let them happen," James said, trying to understand his expression. "There has to be better systems in place, in school, at the Ministry. It all starts with educating the populace."

Remus finally glanced up, raising an eyebrow. "You sound like you've swallowed a political science textbook."

"I've been doing some reading," James shrugged. "This stuff matters. It should matter to everyone, and I'm going to make it my mission to make it matter here, first."

"So where does McGonagall come into this?" Remus asked next.

James still couldn't quite read the look on his face. It was this skill that had always made Moony so adept at getting himself out of trouble: his reputation as the relatively well-behaved Marauder was based entirely on his poker face and apparently quiet disposition. James and Sirius and Peter all knew that it wasn't that Remus was quiet, necessarily – he just wasn't as loud as the others. And he had an uncanny knack for holding back, shielding things that he didn't want to be seen. Fucking entertaining when it came to Remus' dealings with professors, but fucking frustrating when it came to conversations with his friends.

"Well, I've put together a plan," he gestured to the parchment again, "just as a starting point. I was talking to Mary, and to Evans another time, and it hit me just how much Muggleborns are thrown in at the deep end and expected to just…change themselves to fit our customs. It's not exactly welcoming, is it?"

Remus nodded. "No, not really…"

"And I didn't want to just do it, because then it would seem like a prank," James continued. "I want McGonagall to see that I take this seriously." He shrugged, feeling suddenly self-conscious. "So, start small. See what happens."

Remus was, it seemed, lost for words for a few moments. Then, he blinked, and it was even harder to dissect his expression. "Well, that's great, Prongs," he said, standing up. "I've got to get a book back to the library. I'll see you later…"

His friend was gone before James could even gather his wits, and he stared over at the portrait hole with a faint frown on his face. What was it going to take to get him to talk? At this rate, he'd stay clammed up and they'd all be back off home for the Christmas holidays, nothing fixed, nothing improved.

He needed a new plan of attack.

To say that Lily was tired didn't feel like a strong enough statement. For whatever reason, those past few weeks felt a bit like an assault course – one obstacle after another, some more fun than others, and apparently no end in sight. At least it wasn't just her: most of the student population, and a large majority of the teaching staff too, had a slightly frazzled, end-of-a-long-term aura of exhaustion.

She couldn't really complain, though. Classes were going well; her friends were a source of joy and comfort and laughter and, yes, the occasional bouts of irritation; Remus was back; Rafe was as charming and personable as ever. As far as she could tell, she was the object of envy for most of the sixth and seventh year girls, and some of the fifth years, too. In the rankings of fit, kind, respectful blokes at Hogwarts, he was easily top five.

The respectful part was the most frustrating, to be honest. She didn't want him to ravish her against the prefect bathroom wall (well, not yet, anyway), but a bit more than snogging and above-the-jumper action would be nice. His hand had slipped down to squeeze her arse in the corridor last week and she'd been far more delighted than she should've. Maybe it was because she was used to boys with far less subtlety or finesse. Luke Brand, her boyfriend for the first half of fifth year, had tried to get his hand in her bra within the first two weeks. A resilient fellow, Luke. And she had no problem with a good groping, provided she had given full and hearty consent beforehand, of course.

And she really wanted to give her consent to Rafe. Trouble was, he wouldn't ask for it.

He held her hand. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, or her waist. He tipped her chin up and kissed her with such intensity that she felt herself press closer to him, heart thudding, aching for more. He wanted more, too. She knew that – in fairness, much harder for blokes to hide these things – and yet, nothing. Not a single breach of her clothing. Not a single opportunity seized upon to do more than frantic necking.

It was driving her mad.

Was a lack of nookie making her more tired? Maybe. She was too exhausted to think about the logic of it too much. She wanted to talk to Mary and Marlene about it, ask for their advice, but truthfully, she felt a bit embarrassed. Either there was something wrong with her and Rafe was too polite to say he wasn't interested any more, or there was something wrong with her and she needed to cool her jets and be patient. Either way she was wrong, she was sure of it, and so she let it fester and curdle in her mind, and took plenty of long, hot showers after their dates.

Christ. She needed to sort herself out.

She decided to throw her energy into the most recent DADA essay, a monster of an assignment which required rather a lot of research. At least in the library it was quiet.

"You look dead on your feet."

She glanced up from the shelf in front of her, spotting Remus' small but warm smile. "If that's how I look, imagine how I feel," she replied, cheerfully enough. "I am starting to wonder if someone has attached heavy weights to my eyelids and I just haven't noticed."

He considered her thoughtfully. "Well, if they have, they've put a Disillusionment charm on them too, so you weren't to know."

"That's a relief," she smiled. "Are you after that book that Merryton mentioned? I'm terrified someone's already nabbed it."

"Terrified," Remus repeated with a raised eyebrow. "Yes, that's the one I came looking for…is it not here?"

Lily returned her attention to the shelf, crouching to scan the lower levels. "I'm not sure, I haven't seen – oh!" She straightened up and held the hefty tome in triumph. "One copy left. We can share it?"

"You sure?" he asked. "I'm not as terrified as you are."

She swatted his arm gently with her free hand, leading the way back towards the main desk. "I'm sure."

"Thanks, Lil." She could hear his soft footsteps following close behind, a comforting sound – it was strange the things you could miss about a person. "You're a star."

"I am, aren't I," she agreed. After checking out the book with Madam Pince, who looked as if their very presence there was an affront, they headed out of the library and up the stairs. "How's it going, getting back into the swing of things?"

He shrugged. "It's fine," he replied. She shot him a covert glance as they waited for the next staircase to align: his face was impassive. "Good to be back in the routine."

She shifted the heavy book to her other arm, and without saying anything, he took it from her, tucking it under his own arm. Typical Remus. "Potter and the others were really worried about you," she offered, noting the tension in his shoulders at her words. "He seemed to think you might've left because of…other reasons, not physical injuries…"

It could not have been clearer that he didn't want to talk about this. He swallowed hard, gaze fixed ahead. "Don't know where he got that idea from."

Lily raised her eyebrows. "I think it was the conversation you two had, the day after the full moon."

Remus seemed to hold back a sigh, one that would've no doubt been deep and weary. "It was nothing – "

"Lily!" They had rounded a corner, and there was Rafe. He was leaning against the wall opposite Flitwick's classroom, the door of which was just slightly ajar. His tie knot was loosened in a way that should not have been nearly so attractive, shirt sleeves rolled up, an easy smile on his face. Lord, he was far too good looking. It wasn't fair. "What a pleasant surprise…"

She flushed with pleasure as he abandoned his post at the wall to sidle over for a kiss. It didn't last at all long enough for her tastes, although she knew it was only polite, given that Remus was stood right there. "Hi," she smiled breathlessly as he pulled back, giving her one of his trademark winks. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know me," he cupped her jaw a moment, looking as if he was giving another kiss some serious consideration. "I like to lie in wait in the corridor for beautiful red-heads."

To her left, Remus cleared his throat, a small, subtle sound.

"Oh!" She shot her friend an apologetic look. "Sorry! Rafe, this is my friend Remus, I'm not sure if you've ever met? Remus, this is Rafe."

As the two blokes looked at each other, there was a moment where Lily could not for the life of her decipher the energy that suddenly surrounded them. The pause was the tiniest amount too long.

And then, just as suddenly, the mood shifted again. Rafe gave Remus a friendly nod. "No, I don't think we have met," he agreed. "I've heard you're the only sensible Gryffindor male in existence."

Remus looked almost unsure, even for just a fraction of a second, before he nodded too, managing a small smile. "I suppose these things are all relative," he replied. "Nice to meet you."

"You too." Rafe returned his focus to Lily, his gaze burning with delicious intensity. "Fancy a stroll?"

Fucking hell, she really did. Even if it was going to end up as frustrating as all their previous strolls. But… "I have to get started on this essay," she sighed with regret. "I'm drowning in work as it is. I'm sorry." She closed the gap between them, placing her hand gently on his chest as she leaned up to press a kiss to his lips. "Another time?"

"Another time," he agreed, the murmur of his words a distracting vibration against her skin. He pulled back. "Good luck with the essay. I know you'll do brilliantly."

"Thanks," she smiled. "Night…"

"Night, Lily," he winked, and shot Remus a brief look. "Take care, Lupin."

As they carried on their journey back to the common room, they heard footsteps fade in the opposite direction. It was about two floors away before she realised that Rafe had known Remus' last name. She glanced over at her friend again, who looked lost in thought. "You two haven't met before, have you?" she asked.

His face, again, unreadable. Frustrating. "I don't think so, except in passing, you know," he shrugged. He paused. "He seems nice."

She decided to let this weird feeling go. She didn't need that on top of everything else. "He is," she agreed fondly. "He's lovely." They walked further, the silence seeming companionable. "He hasn't tried to…you know," she blurted out as they rounded a corner, the Fat Lady's portrait now in their sight line. She knew very well that her cheeks had flared tomato-red.

She could feel his eyes on her again, and she met his gaze, seeing one raised eyebrow. "And…you wish he would?" Remus asked.

She stopped, and he stopped too, both turning to face each other. "I know it's not a massive problem, in the scheme of things," she said. "Other people are dealing with much worse issues than not being…well. Y'know."

She remembered, back on a routine patrol of the castle during the infancy of her relationship with Luke, that Remus had given her some unexpectedly bawdy advice. She hadn't expected it from him at all, back then. Which was why it surprised her even further when he said, after a short pause, "I wouldn't worry about it too much. It'll happen when it's the right time."

She blinked. "Oh," she nodded. "Okay. You're right."

Remus offered her a small but encouraging smile. "Waiting adds to the exhilaration, anyway," he said, before adding, with a self-deprecating roll of his eyes, "or so I've heard."

Lily could tell that he was trying to be kind, that he was trying to do something that she couldn't quite put her finger on, and she was grateful for it, even if she did feel as if she'd exposed herself as a horny idiot. "Who are you waiting on, then?" she asked, a teasing smile on her lips.

He glanced, seemingly out of instinct rather than choice, towards the Fat Lady's portrait. "Ah, well, I've decided not to wait on that, anymore," he replied, apparently unaware of the enigma of his words. Or aware, but unbothered. "Fresh start, and all that."

She frowned, and reached out to brush her hand up his arm. "You know, I'm a very good listener."

His eyes returned to hers. He smiled, just slightly. "I know you are."

"Better out than in, they say," she added.

"They do say that," he agreed, pausing a moment. "I…not right now. But, maybe soon." He shrugged, looking almost embarrassed. "Thanks, Lil."

She looped her arm through his, starting the final, short part of their journey. "Any time," she assured him.

They clambered through the portrait hole and into the common room, where the Gryffindors were having a quiet evening. Most seemed to be studying, or just slumped in soft conversation, too tired for anything more rambunctious. Lily's eyes were drawn to the fireplace, where James and Mary sat on the sofa together, a stack of parchment balanced on James' leg which was the main focus of their attention. His arm was draped along the back of the sofa, and she had angled her body just slightly towards him – nothing that couldn't be denied away, Lily thought, if it came to it, but enough to get her closer.

She blinked and looked away, spotting a few comfy chairs and a table nearby – and far enough away from the fire. "Let's crack open that book, shall we?"

Remus tore his own gaze away from where Sirius and Peter were playing chess, and nodded, following her to the chosen spot. They soon got stuck into reading, taking careful notes and discussing which parts might be useful for their essays. Lily had always enjoyed studying with Remus: he was thoughtful, dedicated, generous with his intelligence – but he also knew how to lighten the atmosphere when it was needed, to make a heavy subject feel even a little bit lighter.

He had just finished copying down a quote that they thought would be relevant when Lily blurted it out. "Does he fancy her?"

Remus glanced up, then followed her gaze over to their friends on the sofa. "I'm not sure," he replied, watching the pair for a moment before he looked back at Lily. "Why?"

Lily hoped, desperately hoped, that she wasn't blushing. She couldn't have explained why she wanted to know, not for all the galleons in Gringotts. It was James Potter, for Christ's sake. She'd only recently begun to see him as even vaguely tolerable, as something more than just an arrogant arsehole. He was her friend now, somehow, against all odds. So why did she want to know? It was a bloody good question. "Just wondering," she answered vaguely, and paused. "Mary used to fancy him, back in third year. Not sure if she still does, but…" She shrugged. "They just seem closer, that's all."

Remus was watching her with an unnerving knowingness. "She's been helping him with this SWEN stuff."

"SWEN?"

"Oh, you haven't had the pitch yet?" Remus smiled slightly. "Students Want Equality Now. He's had a meeting with McGonagall and everything. They're organising an event for the end of term, something to do with oranges… I can't remember the details. Anyway, it's about helping Muggleborns feel more at home at Hogwarts – that it's not all about you changing everything, abandoning your customs just to fit in with the magical world."

She blinked in surprise, looking back over at James for a moment. "Bloody hell," she said, with great profundity. "I didn't know he was doing all this…" She paused, then frowned. "Wait, oranges?"

Remus shrugged again. "Ask James, or Mary. I can't remember why but it was something to do with a Muggle custom around Christmastime."

Lily didn't know what to say. It felt strange, that Potter could keep surprising her, keep vaulting over her admittedly low expectations for him. And he hadn't even told her about it, so it wasn't like she could even imagine – not hope, of course not hope – that he was doing any of it to impress her. Was it possible that all along, all this time, James had been hiding a core of innate decency under his pranks and prattishness?

She couldn't concentrate on work for the rest of the evening.

"Lupin. A moment of your time, please."

Remus looked up, alarmed, from where he'd been packing up his bag. The rest of their Defence class were drifting off to dinner, chatting cheerfully. James had lingered, waiting for his friend, and now threw him an equally alarmed look. Given that she made it her mission not to talk to any of her students after lessons, Merryton wanting to speak to you was considered a cause for concern.

"Oh, um, okay," he agreed, shooting James a look which might've said for the love of Merlin, save me or run, run while you can.

Merryton looked up from her desk and over at James. "Potter, your presence is not required," she told him. "I'm sure your friend will find you at the dinner table shortly."

"Right you are, professor," James agreed; after one last, apologetic glance at Remus, he hurried out the door and closed it behind him.

Merryton gestured to a seat in the front row, the closest one to her desk. She studied his face, her own inscrutable, as he sat down. "You don't need to be frightened," she said dismissively, in a way that actually made her seem more frightening. "I haven't had the chance to give you any feedback on your essays, Lupin, due to your…" She trailed off, and for a moment, seemed almost human for once. "Your absence."

"Oh," he said, dread sitting heavy in his stomach. "Okay."

"Your work puts you at the top of the class, by quite a margin," she said next, reaching for an essay – he recognised his own careful handwriting. "It has done since the first assignment. I'm not sure you appreciate your skill in this area, Lupin."

This was not what he had expected. For a few seconds, all he could do was blink dimly at her. "Um – thank you?"

She looked up, one eyebrow arched in what he had to assume was judgement. "Your practical work, too, is excellent," she carried on. "Not as showy as some of your peers, perhaps, but all the better for it."

He guessed that was a reference to James and Sirius, who duelled as if they were under a spotlight. Bloody brilliant at it, of course, but always with a bit of flair.

"I say all this not to embarrass you," she said, "but to direct your thinking, if needed, to the future. I understand you are also strong in Charms, Transfiguration, Arithmancy. Professor Slughorn says you are a decent potioneer."

Remus shrugged sheepishly. "I get by."

His humility seemed to irritate her – but then, most things did. "I realise that you all have career discussions in fifth year, but with your abilities, intelligence and analytical mind, I thought I should point out to you that a career as an Auror would be a highly logical move."

He shifted in his seat. "It has…crossed my mind before," he admitted, "but…they wouldn't take me."

She stared at him without emotion. "Because of your lycanthropy?"

His heart felt like it almost dropped through to the floor. "I – what?"

She gave a flick of her fingers, as if to wave his concerns away. "Let us not pretend that we both don't know, Mr Lupin," she said. "You don't need to worry about my discussing it with anyone but you or Professor Dumbledore."

He wasn't quite sure if he felt reassured. "Okay…"

"I understand why you feel that it would be a barrier," she continued. "But you would be a significant benefit to the Auror program."

Remus frowned. "But they can't just…hire a werewolf," he said; she didn't flinch at the word, like others might have. "I'll be lucky if I can scrape a job in a shop, let alone inside the Ministry."

She considered him for a moment. "Alastor Moody is the head of the department," she said, a small, brief smile crossing her face. It was strange. He hadn't realised she could smile. "I…have a personal connection to him. If you would like, I could arrange for the two of you to meet. Discuss your concerns, and, I would hope, sell your strengths."

A personal connection? Again, he hadn't realised that she had such things. To think of Merryton with a life, with friends or partners, was baffling. "You don't have to do that – "

"It wouldn't be a problem," she interrupted. "After the Christmas break, perhaps?"

"Oh," he nodded. She had made it sound like it was his choice, but it was starting to feel like less of a choice and more of a certainty. "Okay. Thank you."

"Not at all," she replied, and stood. Just like that, the conversation was evidently over. "I suggest you get down to dinner before Potter worries too much more."

Remus stood too, shouldering his bag. This all seemed so surreal, still. "Right. Yes. Thanks, professor…"

She gave another dismissive flick of her hand, already turned away and focused on another task. He watched her for a second, then made a break for it, stepping out into the cool and quiet corridor.

"A personal connection?" James repeated thoughtfully, fifteen minutes later once Remus had told the others the whole story. "Do you think she's shagging Moody?"

Peter looked dubious. "He's got to be at least twenty years older than her."

"Some women like an older man," Lily chimed in with a grin. She gave Remus a nudge. "This is great, Rem. I'm glad she can see your talent."

"We call all see his talent," James said, just a touch defensive. "He's Moony, everyone knows he's bloody brilliant."

Remus knew he was blushing; he reached for his drink to try to hide it. "Alright, settle down."

"An Auror," Sirius said, and they all looked over at him. He'd been quiet throughout the conversation – the way he had been throughout every conversation since Remus' return. He thought that Sirius was probably trying to make himself as small as possible, to not frighten Remus away again. As if Remus couldn't always see him, feel his presence, like a beacon. Sirius locked eyes with Remus. "You'd be amazing at it, mate."

Remus held his gaze for a moment, aware of the others taking in this exchange. "Thanks."

They finished dinner, the conversation thankfully moving on to other, less embarrassing topics. James looked over at him, hope shining on his open face, as they stood to leave. "Come for a walk round the lake, Moony?"

Remus knew that he was running out of reasonable excuses to duck out of the – probably gentle – confrontation that James wanted to have. Luckily, there was still a few old stand-bys. "Can't," he replied, sounding more apologetic than he felt. "Prefect duty."

Lily sighed heavily. "If we find one more couple trying to sneak into the Transfiguration classrooms, I'm going to lose my patience entirely."

"That's the hot spot now, is it?" James smirked. "I'll keep that in mind."

Remus noted – and thought Lily did, too – how James' gaze drifted further down the table, to where Mary was sat, deep in conversation with a couple of fifth year girls. "Enjoy your walk, Prongs," he said, offering Lily his arm. "Shall we, Ms Evans?"

"We shall, Mr Lupin," she replied, tearing her focus away to give him a smile.

He had a feeling it was going to be a long evening.

The note had said, in familiar, elegant cursive, to meet in Binns' classroom at nine. There was no need to sign a name – Sirius knew exactly who had written it. He couldn't imagine what his brother had to say to him, after over three months of ostensibly pretending not to notice his existence, but something deep inside him knew that he would go. Of course he would.

He made sure to tell James where he'd be, it having crossed his mind that the whole excursion could be a set-up, an opportunity to corner him and then let his bigger, braver Slytherin cronies have at him. James had taken some persuading not to come along too: they compromised on him watching the map, ready to leap into action if needed. Binns' room was near to Gryffindor, anyway, so it wouldn't take long to reach him if a rescue was needed.

That was how Sirius found himself, wand clutched tightly in his hand, making his way along the sixth floor corridor towards the History of Magic classroom. It was notoriously left unlocked – Sirius had himself had a few memorable encounters with Marlene in there last autumn, a memory which sometimes flashed into his mind during Binns' tedious lectures and brightened his mood considerably.

Somehow, he didn't think this evening's meeting would be quite so cheering.

With a steadying breath, he pushed the classroom door open and let his gaze flicker until it landed on his baby brother. Regulus sat at the back of the classroom, hands folded neatly on the desk in front of him, his back straight – classic Black posture. Sirius wasn't sure he'd ever seen his brother slouch: that would require him to loosen even the smallest bit of his tightly-wound control. He was more likely to see McGonagall dance a jig than see Regulus relaxed.

Sirius closed the door behind him, moving only to lean against a desk in the front row, hands in his pockets. They watched each other across the expanse of classroom, sharp grey eyes taking in every detail, filing away what might be useful, what might be fodder. Finally, when Sirius could feel slightly assured that Mulciber wasn't about to leap out from behind a pillar, he spoke. "Long time no see, Reg," he said, voice light, expression dark. "What a treat, to be summoned under cover of darkness by the new heir to the House of Black."

Regulus flinched, just slightly, a movement that most wouldn't see but Sirius caught easily enough. In Grimmauld Place, the Black brothers dealt in microscopic reactions: anything bigger meant drawing the merciless wrath of their mother, or the cold fury of their father. "It wasn't a summons. It was a request."

"Oh, I know," Sirius agreed. He knew how the breeze of his voice rankled his brother; Sirius had always had more fun than Regulus probably could even dream of, even in shitty conversations like this one. "I decided I was curious enough to find out what you wanted to come along anyway."

Regulus nodded, just once. "Alphard's last will and testament has finally been found and verified."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "He died a year ago."

"I know that." Regulus let a flicker of annoyance cross his face before it returned to aristocratic blandness. "He left everything to you."

He blinked once, twice. "What?"

His brother dropped his gaze. "You're the only one in the will." There was a pause. "Mother and father are furious."

Sirius let out a flash of laughter, a noise which raised Regulus' gaze again, disapproving and cold. "Of course they are, the money-grabbing vultures," he replied. "They never liked Alphie, they only cared about getting their greedy hands on his cash."

Regulus pursed his lips, clearly holding back his desired retort. "I am sure the Ministry will be in contact, in order to arrange transferring the money," he said at last. "But I…I wanted you to find out from someone who actually knew him. Not some paper-pusher."

Sirius raised an arch eyebrow. "How kind of you," he smirked. "Should I assume that dearest Mummy and Daddy have no idea you're telling me?"

His brother sighed a put-upon sigh. "I am not supposed to talk to you at all," he admitted at last, and scowled. "Sirius, this is ridiculous. All you have to do is apologise, and you could – "

"Apologise?" Sirius interrupted, pushing off his leaning post at the desk. "For what, exactly?"

Regulus tensed, in the same way that Sirius used to at sudden movements, at the threat, however distant, of violence. Two boys, trained to expect pain. Sirius had had to fight off that instinct, knowing that it showed weakness, and never wanting to give his parents that kind of satisfaction. They could hurt him all they liked: he wouldn't let them know he feared it. "You say things just to anger them, you consort with blood-traitors – "

"Oh, good, the old family lines," Sirius rolled his eyes. "I rather think I'm the one owed an apology, actually. Or have you forgotten the beatings? The casual use of the Cruciatus curse?"

Regulus couldn't meet his eyes then. "That would stop, if you…" But he couldn't even finish his sentence. Sirius knew as well as he did that, whatever it was, it wouldn't be true.

"The day after the start of summer, our father drank too much wine at dinner, do you remember?" Sirius sounded quite casual; Regulus' body remained tense and still. He obviously remembered. "You went off to your room, and he proceeded to beat me round the torso with the poker because, and I quote, I needed 'reminding of my place'." Sirius was aware his hands were shaking just slightly, the familiar adrenaline of fear pulsing through him. "I had to use the library to look up healing spells for broken ribs."

Regulus forced himself to look up. "Sirius – "

"No," he decided, holding his brother's gaze for one more moment before he made his way back towards the door. "If you can't see what they are, that they will inevitably turn on you one day when you inevitably fail to live up to their rotten expectations, well, then that's your funeral, isn't it." His hand on the doorknob, he glanced briefly over his shoulder. "Thanks for telling me about the will. I'll make sure to spend it on as much Muggle shit as I can."

Outside in the corridor, the door closed behind him, he allowed himself to catch his breath. He looked down at his hands, willing them to calm, to still, somehow. And then –

"Fucking hell, Pads." James' pale face appeared as he tugged the invisibility cloak down, standing mere inches away from him. Close enough to the door to have heard it all.

Sirius tried to glare at him. "I thought we agreed you were staying in the dorm."

"You agreed," James replied. "I wasn't going to just take a chance, was I?" He glanced over Sirius' shoulder at the classroom door, then grabbed his arm, guiding him down the corridor and back towards the tower. "Your dad…"

"Yep," Sirius replied shortly. At least walking side by side, he didn't have to see the pity in his friend's eyes. "Charming bloke."

They rounded a corner, and James stopped, drawing Sirius to a stop too. "I'm sorry," he said, face earnest and angry and loving, all at once. "You don't deserve to be treated that way. You don't," he added, at the expression on Sirius' face. "Merlin, it shouldn't be too much to expect your own fucking parents not to damn near kill you."

Sirius was about to reply, to shrug it all off, but James hauled him into a hug. He'd obviously learned from Euphemia, because he'd always been very good at hugs. Not that Sirius was about to tell him that. "It's fine, Prongs, really…"

"No it's not," James replied firmly. "But you're well rid of those monsters. You've got me, you've got my mum and dad. You've got Pete, and Remus – "

"Well," Sirius pulled back, clearing his throat uncomfortably. "I might not have Remus."

James fixed him with an unimpressed stare. "You do. It just needs work."

"Right." Sirius sighed, and they started walking again. "Thanks, I suppose. For ignoring my wishes and eavesdropping on a private conversation."

"You're welcome," James replied with a grin. "And thanks, for not throttling your brother and getting yourself chucked out of school."

"He's not worth the energy," Sirius dismissed. "None of them are."

"They're not," he agreed, slinging his arm round Sirius' shoulders. "And, hey, you're rich again – that's a bonus."

"I won't let wealth change me," Sirius decided. "I want to keep my humble lifestyle."

"The one you've had for only three months or so."

"That's the one, yes."

They reached the common room, and Sirius noticed how Remus glanced up from his spot by the fire, taking in the sight of James with his arm round Sirius. Something like sadness, maybe, or even loneliness, flashed across his face before it was gone again, and the boy returned to his reading with a shake of his head.

Sirius turned to James. "He thinks you prefer me," he said, knowing that, despite the change of subject, James would understand. "He thinks you'd choose me over him. That's why he's pulled back so much."

James' smile faded, and he nodded. "How can we fix that bloke's self-worth?" he wondered, trying to sound joking but really just sounding glum.

Sirius sighed. "Wish I knew."

James looked over at Remus again, a steely look of determination crossing his face. "Well, I'll start by interrupting his studying to fawn over him," he decided. "You coming?"

Sirius followed James' gaze, wishing it were that simple. But he knew all too well that his presence would only flatten Remus, make him less receptive to anything James had to say. "I'm going to head up," he said instead. "It's been a knackering evening."

"Alright," James agreed, and patted him on the back. "Sleep well, mate."

"Cheers…" Sirius watched for a moment as James ambled over to the sofa by the fire, slouching down into the space next to Remus, who was trying to ignore him and failing miserably. Then, shoving his hands into his pockets, he turned and made his way up to the silence of the dorm.

Phase One of SWEN's mission was to find other students, so that the plural in the group's name wasn't a total lie. That part was easier than James had expected, forgetting as he often did the sway he held over swathes of the Hogwarts population. Most pupils – Slytherin aside – found him to be fit, funny – cool, even. If James Potter was interested in equal rights and standing up for Muggleborns, well, that meant a lot of other people were too.

Phase Two got underway the following week. With McGonagall's permission, he and a few of his new society members had charmed the Great Hall to cycle through a playlist of Muggle artists every lunchtime. A poster on the doors informed interested parties what was playing, magically updating itself as each song changed. It surprised James how few students were familiar with Muggle music – evidently, they didn't go to many Gryffindor parties. Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da had been a particular hit one Wednesday lunchtime (apart from one table, whose faces had remained stony and unimpressed).

Now, with Mary and Charlie Swift's assistance, Phase Three was being prepped. Mary had told him all about a Muggle tradition a few weeks ago. "It's called a Christingle," she had said, smiling fondly at whatever memory that played across her mind. "We used to make one every Christmas in primary school. You have an orange, which represents the earth, and a ribbon, which…" She had trailed off, frowning for a moment. "I think God's love? And four cocktail sticks, and sweets on them, for…the fruit of the world, or something." She had laughed. "Maybe I should've listened more instead of trying to eat the sweets."

"Sweets are pretty distracting," James had reminded her with a grin.

"And there's a candle that goes in the top, for the light of the world," she had added. "I remember in Year 5 – that's nine to ten year olds – Joshua Lane wasn't paying attention and accidentally set fire to Mrs Kayson's coat."

Ever predictable, the promise of fire was the deciding factor. The house elves in the kitchens were tasked with procuring the food-related items, while James set himself the job of gathering enough red ribbon, cocktail sticks and candles. They were going to commandeer the Great Hall on the last full day of term, make Christingles, sing Muggle carols. Everyone was invited, although James was under no allusions that not everyone would come. Avery had already spat at him about 'encouraging the Mudbloods', something James worked hard to ignore.

Mary had been invaluable, all told. She had a way about her that made any tedious task seem more fun, more engaging. She loved that he wanted to make Hogwarts a safer, more inclusive place for Muggleborns, and was enthusiastic in her support.

They were strolling back from a progress report with the house elves, Mary positively fizzing with energy. "This is going to be great, Jamie," she said brightly. "I haven't had the chance to do any of this fun Christmassy stuff for ages."

"I hope it lives up to your expectations," he grinned. "And that more people than just you, me and Charlie turn up."

"Oh, Lil will come," she replied decisively. "That's at least four."

"Something to work with, then."

They wandered round a corner, just along from Flitwick's classroom – in fact, someone was emerging from the room itself. James' smile dropped.

"Rafe!" Mary called out cheerfully; the seventh year turned, pausing only a moment before determinedly shutting the classroom door behind him. "I thought I only ever saw you with Lily on your arm."

"She lets me out on my own every now and then," Rafe winked, then gave James a brief nod. "You two been smooching under the stars?"

Mary flushed deeply as she let out a nervous laugh. "No! We're not – we're not together."

"Ah, my mistake," Rafe smiled smoothly. "Apologies."

James wasn't sure what to make of any of this. Thicknesse was acting like he hadn't been lingering weirdly around a classroom out of hours, and Mary was acting like she couldn't even look at James anymore. Yes, he'd strongly suspected she fancied him, but that suspicion was beginning to look more certain. "Well," he said at last. "No harm done. We'd better get back before curfew, eh, Mac?"

"Right," Mary nodded, still flushed a vibrant pink. "See you round, Rafe."

"Take care, you two," Rafe replied cheerfully, and didn't move, just watched them walk away.

Strange.

"Lily's found a good one there," Mary remarked as they climbed the last staircase to the tower. "A lovely bloke."

James wasn't sure he was in any position to comment on Lily Evans' boyfriend, for a variety of reasons. "Think he'll come along to the Christmas event?" he asked, pretending to care. "That could get our numbers up to five."

Mary laughed, bumping him playfully with her shoulder as they walked. "Stop worrying so much. People will come."

"They'd better," he replied, "or you and I will be taking a sack of oranges home each."

Back in the common room, they joined Lily and Remus in some squashy chairs by the windows. "We just bumped into your beau," Mary announced as she sat down. "Down by Flitwick's room. Looking as dreamy as ever."

Lily laughed, but James caught a glimpse of something cross Moony's face, almost a frown. "You never fail to impress me with the number of different adjectives you come up with to describe him, Mare," Lily teased.

"I like to use my broad vocabulary," she teased back.

"Remus," James piped up. The girls both looked at him, perhaps picking up on the tone in his voice, a tone he wasn't even sure about. "I'm going to head up…you coming?"

His friend hesitated – probably deciding whether this was another tactic to corner him about forgiveness – but it seemed that tiredness won out. "Yeah, I will," he agreed, heaving himself to his feet. "Night, ladies."

"Night, Rem," Lily smiled, adding, almost reluctantly, "Night, Potter."

"Sweet dreams," Mary said with a wink.

They made their way over to the stairs, starting the climb up to the dormitory. James felt something churning over and over in his mind, wondering if he should even ask it at all, but – "Moony," he sighed, and stopped; Remus stopped too, turning to face him. "Do you…what do you think of Thicknesse?"

Remus glanced quickly back down the stairs, but they were half way up now, nowhere near anyone who could overhear. He had the face of someone who wished they were anywhere but there. "I don't know him, really," was his non-reply.

"You sure?" James frowned. "It looked like you had a reaction of some kind when Mary said we saw him…"

A few seconds passed, before Remus shrugged, adopting a small, tired smile. "Must be imagining things, mate," he said, and started to carry on the journey up the stairs.

James watched him go, his frown not easing, until finally, he shook his head and moved to join him.

Maybe he really was imagining things.