Chapter 13: It's The Unraveling

"Right. The dried aconite is in…" James peered into the bubbling cauldron, more nervous than he cared to admit. They had today's double Potions lesson to get the first of their project potions started, and he was in a group with Lily – the undisputed brewing genius – and Sirius, who, if he ever tried even a little bit, could wipe the floor with most of the other pupils in the room. James was not like his father when it came to anything cauldron-related: he didn't have the patience, for one thing. Why stand around adjusting temperatures and stirring anti-clockwise when he could be outside flying, or turning one thing into another, or practising his wandless hexes? There were so many things he was better at than Potions, and maybe it was a character flaw, but he didn't enjoy doing things he wasn't as good at.

But still, he wasn't a disaster – he wasn't Moony, Merlin bless the bloke, a walking catastrophe when it came to the subject – and he just had to maintain his composure and get through this project without fucking anything up. Not in the name of his own grade (he knew he could probably scrape an EE with minimal effort), but to make sure that Lily Evans didn't skin him alive, or toss him into the Great Lake to be eaten by the giant squid.

She was pretty intense when it came to Potions.

He watched her now, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she referred to one of the many books scattered around the table. She always tied her hair back in Potions lessons – not that he paid attention to that stuff anymore – and there was something a bit…well…charming about how her brow would furrow, the look of concentration on her face, the way her posture was like that of a coiled spring, ready to leap into action at a moment's notice. That kind of passion was distracting.

Lily was someone who had always been something of a mystery to him. What he knew of her, he'd always liked intensely – her kindness, her cleverness, her sharp wit and gentle humour. And what he didn't know of her – the quiet edge to her, that sense that something was held back, from him at least – was just as intriguing. It had never only been about how she looked (although, that helped, given that she looked incredible, even when she wasn't trying), in all his years of fancying her something rotten. It was…well, it was everything.

And that mystery seemed to have increased, since the start of the new term. He'd been relieved and embarrassingly grateful when she had sought him out to apologise last month – not that he thought she had any reason at all to apologise, frankly. He knew he'd handled the whole Rafe situation in a way that would have made his mother clip him round the ear. But at least the fences were mended, he didn't have to avoid her anymore: they could be friends, again. He was a bit surprised at how glad he was of that fact, to be honest.

But even with that friendship back on track, his actions forgiven, she was definitely different. The night of her birthday party, he'd laid in bed, unable to shut his eyes, staring at the ceiling and wondering what the hell was happening. It had felt like he had missed something, some huge and obvious clue. Lily wasn't exactly a shy and retiring type, but she wasn't the sort to get completely plastered at a party like she had that evening. He'd seen the concern in Mary's eyes, too. He wasn't the only one panicking, at least.

That had been two weeks ago, and not much had changed. She was quiet in lessons, quiet in the common room. She looked like she hadn't slept properly in ages (still beautiful, of course, and he was sure that was something a friend like him could acknowledge).

But this whole friendship…it was too fragile. He could sense that if he stepped onto that ice, asked what was wrong, it would crack and break beneath the weight of it all. She wouldn't tell him. She'd only shut him out again. He wasn't about to invite that back into his life.

He forced himself to look away, refocusing for a moment on Cadence, across the room with her project group. She was focused, too, carefully adding ingredients to the cauldron in front of her. She'd pulled back some of her hair so that her face was clear (and, he reminded himself, what a lovely face it was), and she absently held her full lower lip between her teeth. Okay. That was charming, too.

She looked up, caught his gaze, and gifted him with one of her smiles. It warmed him to his toes – and filled him with thick, hot guilt, like glue gumming up his insides. What kind of piece of shit boyfriend spent ages internally soliloquising about another girl – a girl he had been more or less in love with (past tense, he told himself firmly) for at least three years now – when he had a beautiful, sweet girlfriend like Cadence, just waiting to smile at him, whose eyes lit up whenever she saw him?

"If you could stop making eyes at your girlfriend, Prongs," Sirius brought his attention back to his own group: his friend, sleeves rolled up and irritation clear on his face, was trying to dice a particularly slimy-looking ingredient; next to him, Lily looked slightly more anxious than she had even a minute or so ago. She couldn't seem to meet his eye. "You need to add the toad eyes next."

"Sorry," he said, reaching across the workstation for the chopping board. "I'm on it."

He kept his focus down – much safer that way – while Sirius and Lily conferred over the cauldron. He wasn't really paying attention, until he heard his best friend say, "You doing anything for Valentine's, Evans?"

Lily made a scornful noise, tapping a pot of powder just once, very delicately, so a small amount floated down into the potion. "Well, Mary's going into Hogsmeade with George," she replied. "Marl and Dorcas are going… 'as friends', apparently." James glanced up, noting the knowing look that Lily and Sirius shared at that. "And I'd sooner have my eyeballs pecked out by an angry hippogriff than wander round on my own with all that lovey-dovey nonsense. So I'll be staying in my dorm. Reading."

Sirius tipped his finally-diced ingredients into the cauldron, pausing to note the colour shift gently from a dark, inky blue to a softer teal. He and Lily nodded, apparently satisfied. "Want to go to Hogsmeade with me, then?" Sirius asked.

James' head snapped up at that. He looked quickly between the two of them, trying to understand what on earth was going on. And trying to understand why Lily didn't look disgusted, or just plain angry, like she had the one time he'd tried to ask her himself. He swallowed down a visceral shudder at that particular memory.

Lily titled her head thoughtfully. "Yeah, okay," she agreed. "Go on then."

Sirius smiled pleasantly. "Excellent. Meet you in the common room at ten?"

"You're going to see each other fifteen more times before then, Pads," James said, because he had to say something. Maybe his voice would help them both see the utter insanity unfolding around them.

Sirius waved a dismissive hand. "It's good date etiquette, though, isn't it," he replied, and sent Lily a wink. "Helps her manage her expectations."

Lily laughed. "You're too thoughtful." She glanced at the bench around them, apparently looking for something in particular. "I'm going to grab some nettles from the store cupboard, we'll need those for the next stage."

As she vanished towards the back of the classroom, James turned back to his friend with an incredulous look on his face. "What was that?!"

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "What was what?"

"You know what!" James worked to lower his voice. "What, you're dating Evans now?"

"It's just Hogsmeade together," Sirius rolled his eyes. "You'll be with Cady, Pete'll be with Iris since he decided again that he can't live without her, Moony will be with Ollerton-" (his voice took on a more acidic tone, just for that one name) "-so it's either this or sit around on my own thinking dark thoughts." He fixed James with a meaningful stare. "Is that what you want, Prongs? Me and my dark thoughts?"

James scowled, returning his attention to his task. "You're a bloody pest sometimes, you know that?"

"I do, in fact, know that," Sirius assured him. "Although I can't see any reason why this should matter to you, mate."

There was a pause – a telling pause that made James feel, once more, incredibly guilty. "It doesn't," he said at last, muttering the words to the chopping board. "I was just asking."

He didn't need to see Sirius' face to know his expression in that moment. "If you say so…"

The rest of their Potions session went by at a snail's pace, with James showing unusual focus and effort (even Slughorn stopped to remark upon it – just for a moment, before going back to praising Lily's every move) in order to avoid having too much time to sit and stew. Sirius was right. It shouldn't matter to him, not in the slightest. So why did he feel a bit winded by it?

Unfortunately, by dinner, the whole castle seemed to know that Sirius Black had asked Lily Evans to go to Hogsmeade with him. James could see why this was valuable gossip: Sirius had never asked anyone to Hogsmeade, preferring a more laid-back approach with girls. And Lily, until this year, had a fairly adversarial relationship with Sirius – as far as she was concerned, he was just like James: arrogant, entitled, a show-off. So to have such a significant change of opinion was news-worthy. All around them in the dinner hall, James could see people looking over at them, muttering to each other with excited eyes. It was bloody irritating, frankly.

"Our Pads," Pete sighed, patting Sirius on the back, "dating. I'm so proud."

Only Sirius laughed: James was fighting to keep the scowl from his face, and Remus was staring resolutely down at his dinner. "It had to happen sometime, Pete my old chum. Even a wild beast can be tamed."

"I'm not sure that's always true," Pete said. "Imagine trying to tame a lion! You'd get your face ripped off."

"Well, as long as Evans doesn't rip my face off, we'll be fine," Sirius smirked in James' direction.

"This is great, though," Pete carried on, as enthused as ever and not picking up on the mood around him. "This is the first time all four of us have had dates for Valentine's Day in Hogsmeade. And not just dates, too! James and I have our long-term girlfriends-"

"Does it count as long-term if you've broken up and got back together fifty-six times over the course of your relationship?" Sirius wondered.

Pete chose to ignore him. "-and Moony's got a boyfriend, too." He paused then, frowning a bit, and looked over at Remus. "Right?"

Remus glanced up from his chicken stew. "We haven't really talked about that stuff yet."

"Well, for my money, if you've been getting steamy in broom cupboards for more than three weeks, then you're pretty much together," Pete told him.

"Thanks," Remus murmured dryly, returning to his food. "I'll be sure to let Owain know."

James put his fork down, suddenly more keen than ever to get to Quidditch practise. Now seemed like a really good time to hurtle through the air at high speeds and lob Quaffles at someone. "Right, well, I'd better go and get set up…"

Sirius watched him stand up. "Have fun," he said. "Don't worry, Evans and I said we'd go down to the dungeons and check on the potion again later."

Pete wiggled his eyebrows. "Oooooh," he cooed, "sexy romantic times in the dimly-lit dungeons, am I right Pads?"

James clenched his jaw. "Grand. Thanks. See you lot later…"

He made his way out of the Great Hall, pausing in the doorway when he heard his name. Cadence had left her dinner behind to sidle over to him; she reached up to brush her thumb across his jaw, and he felt the tension in his shoulders already starting to fade.

"Just wanted to say have a good practice," she smiled, and stood on her tiptoes to close the distance between them for a quick, soft kiss. "Score lots of goals for me."

He couldn't help but smile back. She truly was – as Lily had drunkenly put it, at her birthday a few weeks ago – lovely. "Thanks," he replied, and glanced round briefly to check no one was in eavesdropping distance. "You know, wouldn't it be a coincidence if you were around the prefect's bathroom at nine-ish…"

She laughed softly, raising an eyebrow. "Yes, that would be a coincidence," she agreed. "Maybe I'll see you there…"

He gave her a wink, sneaking in one last kiss before he turned and headed out, down to the Quidditch pitch. Maybe this day could be saved, after all.

"Lillian Barbara Evans!" Lily glanced up wearily from her mash, which she wasn't eating so much as prodding, to see Marlene swinging herself unceremoniously into the space across the table. "Picture the scene: I am leaving Care of Magic Creatures, having thoroughly impressed Kettleburn with my knowledge and skill as always, and all anyone can talk about is that Sirius asked you to Hogsmeade."

Lily used her fork to dribble some of the gravy from her stew onto the top of the pile of mashed potatoes, watching as it found several paths down to the plate. She'd had a few mouthfuls when she sat down, but now – as it had been all term so far – her appetite was gone again. "My name's just Lily," she said. "Not Lillian."

Marlene narrowed her eyes. "I think you're latching on to the wrong bit of what I said, sweetheart," she replied, serving herself a healthy portion of stew. "Is it true?"

Lily set down her fork and met her friend's gaze. "It's true."

Marlene nabbed a bread roll from a nearby platter, dunking it into her stew. "But you said, and I quote, 'you have more self-respect' than to date Sirius Black."

Lily shook her head. "Your memory, Marl," she marvelled. "You are amazing."

"That's true," Marlene agreed. "But again, not the point."

Lily rolled her eyes. "It's not a big issue, okay? He didn't ask me on a date. And even if he had – it's not like anyone else asked me out, is it?"

Marlene frowned, some of her humour gone. "Lil, you don't have to have a date with anyone. It doesn't matter."

"I know it doesn't," she said; it was true, after all – she didn't exactly have the headspace at the moment to have a boyfriend. Her mind was cluttered enough as it was, and maybe she was also feeling a bit nervous, given her recent history in that area… "Honestly, don't worry about it, Marl."

"It's just a bit…out of character," Marlene offered, seeming almost nervous. "All of this. And you say don't worry, as if it's that easy to just…ignore whatever this all is."

Lily tried her best to meet her eyes. "What all what is?" she asked, voice light.

Her friend held her gaze for a long moment. "I wish you'd talk to us," she said, quietly and with a heft of sadness that Lily didn't expect.

Lily swallowed, forcing up a smile that they both knew wasn't genuine. "I'm fine, Marl," she promised, standing up. "Stop fussing. I need to go and check on our Potions project. I'll see you upstairs in a bit…"

She didn't wait for a reply – didn't want to give her friend the chance to say anything else kind. She had felt on edge pretty much since the start of term: a month and a half or so of desperately trying to keep her emotions in check, trying to stop her thoughts from spiralling away from her. It was far too easy to wonder how her mum was, if every communication from her would be the last one, if she was slipping away and Lily didn't even know it. As she walked, she clutched the letter that was safely tucked away in her robe pocket. It had arrived this morning. She hadn't even opened it yet – too scared of what she would find.

She made her way through the dimly-lit dungeon corridors, trying to draw strength from her solitude. At least she knew where she was when it came to Potions: there was logic there, patterns and predictability. She could be in control, and that was something she needed so desperately, something she felt was constantly slipping through her fingers.

She paused in the doorway to the classroom, taking in the scene before her. Snape and Avery were standing around her cauldron, peering inside – Avery was pulling something out of his pocket. She cleared her throat and they both looked up quickly. "Did you lose your own cauldron, boys?" she asked, ice in her voice. "I'm not sure you should be anywhere near mine."

Avery scowled at her, his hand going back into his pocket. "Don't think too highly of yourself, mudblood," he spat.

She merely raised her eyebrows. "How original." She glanced over at Snape, who was glowering ineffectively at the floor. "Anything else I can help you with?"

Avery drew his wand, turning fully to face her. "You jumped-up little-"

"Look who it is!" Sirius' voice drew the attention of all three of them: he was leaning in the doorway with a deliberate nonchalance, although his wand was drawn, too, and aimed steadily at Avery. "My favourite prefect and two utter bellends."

"I won't tell Remus you said that," Lily offered, more cheerfully than she felt.

"Fuck off, Black," Avery hissed. "Nobody asked your opinion."

"True," Sirius agreed, moving forward until he stood shoulder to shoulder with Lily. "Few people actually do. I offer it freely anyway." He smiled in a way that at a glance, might have seemed pleasant – but his eyes were cold, his stare unforgiving. "You two finished in here? Only we've got a Potions project to check on, and I'm sure Slughorn – who is in his office next door, by the way – might be interested to know what's going on in his classroom."

It was Snape who moved first; he reached out, his hand on Avery's arm, forcing him to lower his wand. When he spoke, his voice was brittle. "We're finished."

"Great," Sirius sighed, draping his arm around Lily's shoulders. "Have a lovely evening now, you two."

Avery looked extremely reluctant to leave without having fired off even one curse – and Lily had a feeling that Sirius might have been a bit disappointed about that, too – but Snape didn't give him the chance, all but marching him out of the room. Lily shouldn't have been surprised – her former friend had always had a knack for self-preservation.

She turned to look at Sirius. "I could've handled it, you know."

"Oh, I know," he replied; his gaze was much warmer now that it was just her on the receiving end. "But I thought if you two started cursing and hexing each other, something might hit our cauldron and then we'd have to start from scratch."

Lily smirked. "Oh, Black," she said, "what a gentleman."

"It's the thought that counts," he winked, and let go of her to wander forward, peering into the cauldron. "Doesn't look like they've pissed in it or anything…"

"Pissed in it?" Lily repeated, moving to join him. "I mean – what do you – logistically speaking, how would that even work?"

Sirius adopted a thoughtful expression. "You get the right angle and ideal velocity if you climb up on to the desk," he replied. "That's just a guess, of course."

She shot him her best judgemental glare, tempered though it was with a smile. "You are a despicable person, Sirius Black."

"And yet you still agreed to go to Hogsmeade with me," he grinned. "So what does that say about you?"

"Maybe I'm despicable too," she said, reaching for the long-handled spoon next to the cauldron. She didn't look up at him, just focused on the necessary clockwise stirs, and a sprinkling of dried lavender. After a few minutes, she spoke again. "Thanks…for inviting me. And don't worry, I know it's as friends."

He shot her a smirk. "What gave it away?" he wondered. "Was it our complete lack of sexual interest in each other?"

She laughed. "Alright, Black, I think complete is a bit harsh," she told him. "But, well…yeah."

"No point in sitting around feeling glum. We've got as much right as anyone to enjoy ourselves," he shrugged. "It also had the added bonus of making Prongs almost shit himself."

She pursed her lips, holding back her initial reaction. "I really doubt he cares all that much," she replied, reaching for the jar of pickled frogs. "I think you put too much stock in him once asking me out, for a joke."

He didn't reply straight away, and she glanced up, catching the expression on his face – one of clear disbelief. Christ, she really didn't want to be getting into this now. Or ever, frankly. She shrugged off her outer robe, passing it to Sirius. "Sling that over the stool, would you? I need to quickly shred these and add them to the potion."

Remarkably, he didn't comment on her change of subject; it was a bit worrying, how well he seemed to understand her sometimes. "Certainement, mon cher," he replied in a flawless French accent, eyebrow raised. "What can I do, other than stand here and look devastatingly handsome?"

"It needs three stirs, one every minute," she directed him, focused now on her task. "I assume you can do that and look devastatingly handsome at the same time."

"You got it, boss," he agreed, turning to drape her robe over the stool as directed – then stoop to pick something up off the floor. "Oh, hang on, what's this…" She looked up sharply. "A letter?"

She glanced between the unopened envelope and Sirius' openly curious face. "From home," she explained, aware that it was a poor – and unnecessary – explanation. "I'm saving it for later."

He raised an eyebrow, looking down to study the envelope. "Someone's got neat handwriting," he said.

She felt a lump in her throat. "My dad's." That was part of the reason she was avoiding reading it. The last few letters had been from her mum – as soon as she'd seen her father's handwriting on the envelope this morning, she'd frozen in bleak, unrelenting fear. It had been burning a hole in her pocket all day, a constant, taunting reminder of what she desperately wanted to avoid…

Sirius went to put the letter back in her robe pocket. "Nice to get letters," he offered, his tone light. "I'm trying to imagine my father writing to me…"

She looked up awkwardly, pausing in her task for a moment before returning to the shredding – it was cathartic, in a way. "You're staying with Potter's family, right?" she asked. "Do they write to you?"

He had a small but fond smile on his face when she looked up next to tip the thin strips of frog skin into the potion. "They do," he confirmed. "Euphemia is prolific."

Lily busied herself tidying up their table, not that it was in much of a mess to begin with. "That's sweet."

"The sweetest," Sirius agreed, with just the hint of truth hiding behind his sarcasm. "Right. That's been three stirs."

She nodded. "I can finish up here," she said, "I'm sure you've got better things to do."

He levelled a stare at her. "I like your company, Evans," he pointed out. "I am also not leaving you alone in this Merlin-forsaken place with wannabe Death Eaters like Avery on the prowl."

She rolled her eyes. "I can handle myself, Black."

"I know you can," he agreed. "But you don't have to."

She sighed, but smiled, just slightly, just enough to make him return that smile, that familiar twinkle in his eyes again. "Fine, fine. Stick around. We're nearly finished, anyway."

"Goodo," Sirius leaned comfortably against the table. "And we can start putting together a list of what we will and won't do tomorrow. I'm afraid I won't do any kissing on the lips, Evans. That's a hard no."

She laughed softly. "Afraid you'll fall in love with me?"

He grinned. "Afraid to hook you in," he replied smoothly. "I'm like a drug – once you've had a hit, you won't be able to stay away. It's for your own good."

"Such generosity," she said, and turned back to the potion.

James wandered back into the dormitory just after curfew, looking rather more cheerful than he had at dinner. Remus hadn't failed to notice his friend's mood over the news that Sirius had asked Lily to Hogsmeade – in fairness, he didn't hide these things well – and had wondered, idly, as he battled through his Ancient Runes translation block, whether that mood might carry over to the rest of the evening.

Apparently not. James was whistling as he strolled in, chucking his dirty Quidditch gear into a heap at the end of his bed. "Moony," he greeted him with a broad smile. "How's the translation going? Does it lead to secret treasure?"

"Unfortunately not," Remus replied, setting his work aside to watch James, now hopping about removing his socks. "Practice go well, did it?"

"Hmm? Yeah, mainly," James replied, pulling back on the elastic of one of his socks and watching it go ping across the room, landing on Pete's empty bed. "We're on good form for the Hufflepuff match, I think."

"Good," Remus nodded. "Glad it lifted your mood."

James turned around at that, eyebrows raised in surprise. "My mood?"

"Well," Remus started, wondering if James had truly thought he was being subtle at dinner earlier, "you were a bit…shall we say…grumpy, before practice."

"Grumpy?" James repeated, clutching his hands to his chest in dramatic offence. "I was fine, mate!"

"You were scowling into your stew," Remus pointed out mildly. "Presumably because Pads asked Lily out."

There was a pause: Remus could almost see the wheels turning in his friend's head. God love him, he was a shockingly bad liar. "Asked her out and she said yes," he said eventually.

Well, that was closer to the truth of things than Remus had expected. "Right," he agreed. "But Prongs – they're friends, aren't they."

James flung his other sock over his shoulder and moved to slump onto the end of his bed. "Yeah, they are."

"And you know how much Sirius enjoys winding you up."

A heavy sigh. "He really does."

"So don't rise to the bait," Remus advised. "You've got a date with Cadence to worry about, anyway."

At this, James grinned. "That's nothing to worry about, Moony," he replied. "Considering we just spent a highly enjoyable hour in the prefect's bathroom-"

"Bloody hell, I don't want the details," Remus assured him quickly.

"-soap in all the right places, my friend," he propped himself up on his elbow. "You should go in there with Ollerton sometime. Much better lit than a broom cupboard."

"Not sure that's entirely in my favour," Remus frowned.

"Shut up, you're a beautiful man," James waved his free hand dismissively. "Plus – the oils, Moony! Make each other all slippery and-"

"Okay," Remus interrupted. "I think that's enough."

James just beamed at him. "You are happy, aren't you, mate?" he asked. "Pete didn't put you off earlier talking about…boyfriends and all that?"

"I am happy," Remus promised him, and it was mainly true. Owain was funny, he was kind, he was clever – he was fit. They had chemistry, that was for sure (the very pleasant hour they'd spent in an empty classroom on the third floor after dinner was proof of that). There was absolutely nothing wrong with him. Nothing at all.

His gaze flicked, almost against his will, towards Sirius' bed.

"'Cause he meant well," James continued. "If you're not bothered about the labels yet, then don't worry about it. No rush, is there?"

Remus nodded. "No. You're right."

James hesitated – a flash of uncertainty on his face, an unnatural thing to find there – before he sat up, crossing his long legs. "You seemed a bit grumpy at dinner, too."

Remus had always been self-aware – you couldn't not be, with his life. He knew very well that he'd sat down at dinner, hearing everyone around him talking about Lily Evans and Sirius Black, the new 'hot couple' of Hogwarts, and felt a horrible, roiling sensation in the pit of his stomach. Jealousy. It was clearly jealousy. It might as well have been neatly labelled and filed, as obvious as it was. And then he was angry with himself, because why was he jealous? He knew that Lily and Sirius weren't going to actually end up dating – he couldn't think of two people less compatible. They were friends, yes, but anything more? It was a laughable idea.

And he was happy with Owain. It wasn't like he had any claim to Sirius – they were friends, for fuck's sake, and only recently even friends at all.

Maybe that had been part of the reason why he sought out Owain after dinner. He was a delightful distraction from the mess that was the inside of Remus' head.

"Well," he said, because he wasn't sure what else to say, and better to waffle than to sit there in a guilty silence, "you know, it was a long day, I was…tired."

James raised a dubious eyebrow. "Tired."

"Surely you've heard of it," Remus replied blithely. "Fatigued, exhausted, worn out."

James clambered off his bed, wandering closer – initially, Remus wondered if he was about to be leapt on again (it had been happening with increasing enthusiasm since they'd cleared the air before Christmas), but instead he moved to Remus' bedside table, breaking off a chunk of chocolate from the bar there. "You know, Moony," he said, his voice soft, thoughtful, as he focused on wrapping the bar back up in its foil and paper casing, "at some point, you're going to have to be honest about your feelings. Even if it's just with yourself."

Remus resisted the temptation to mention pot, kettle: just kept his face neutral. "What feelings?"

James glanced up at him then, and gave him a sympathetic smile, reaching out to pinch his cheek like he was a four-year-old. "You two," he muttered with a shake of his head, moving back to his own bed. "You'll be the death of me."

Remus decided he wasn't going to dig into the details of what he meant by that. Or, at least, not get confirmation – he had his suspicions, of course. It wasn't like James was all that subtle. "Help yourself to my chocolate, by the way," he said instead.

James shot him a grin as he grabbed a textbook from the foot of his bed, sitting back to start reading. "Thanks, I will."

"Christ," she muttered, and Sirius nodded his head in fervent agreement. "All the hearts…"

They stood on the high street in Hogsmeade, staring in mutual horror into the window of Madam Puddifoot's. It had been Sirius' idea to wander past – it was usually good for a laugh, and he hoped they'd be able to spot Pete and Iris gazing dopily into each other's eyes, maybe get his attention, try to put him off a bit. Unfortunately (although not so for Pete, of course), they couldn't see him at all. Just various couples they either didn't know or didn't care about, and more decorative hearts than Sirius thought were even in existence.

Sirius shuddered, draping his arm around her shoulders to guide her away. "Let's not assault our senses any longer, Evans," he said. "Fancy lunch in the 'Sticks?"

"Yeah, good idea," she agreed. They set off down the busy street, winding their way through loved-up pairings. When she spoke next, there was an interesting sort of forced casualness to her voice that drew his attention. "Lots of nerves in your dorm this morning?"

"Not that I could tell," Sirius shrugged. "Pete's not scared of being dumped anymore because I think he's realised they'll probably just get back together two weeks later. James is confidence personified. And Remus…" He trailed off, clearing his throat. "A man of mystery."

"He is," Lily nodded. They reached the pub, and he held open the door for her. "I'm glad Potter's found Cadence. They're a lovely couple."

He was almost impressed with her level of self-denial. But she didn't give him time to dignify that nonsense with an answer, as she was already disappearing inside. Sirius followed her in, letting her take the lead – the woman had a natural talent for spotting empty tables in busy pubs. She quickly located and secured a small table tucked away at the back, smiling up at Sirius with pride. "I remain unbeaten," she said with a lift of her chin.

"Incredible work as always, Evans," he grinned. "Butterbeer?"

She nodded and he slipped into the crowd, fighting his way through to the end of the bar where he quickly caught Rosmerta's attention. While she poured their drinks, he looked around idly – it was usually entertaining to see who was hooking up with who on the Hogsmeade Valentine visit. It wasn't a day for casual things (unless you liked to set yourself for self-sabotage), so most couples were the kind of sickening, glazed-eyed pairs that he usually liked to avoid. Every now and then, though, you spotted a pairing that clearly hadn't yet had the balls to break up with each other. Those were always worth watching.

A space in the crowd cleared as someone moved towards the bar, and he suddenly had a clear view through to a table near the window. Remus and Owain sat together, sharing a plate of chips. Sirius couldn't help but watch them closely: if you didn't know they were involved, you could probably overlook the clues that were there – they certainly weren't overt about it. But Owain's arm was draped across the back of Remus' chair, and Remus' hand, under the table, seemed to be toying with the denim of the Ravenclaw's jeans. Their bodies were turned towards each other, and apparently were finding it hard to look elsewhere.

"Here you go, my love." Rosmerta's voice broke through his reverie; Sirius turned away from the couple, nodding his thanks and grabbing the two tankards. At least he hadn't been caught staring. One less thing to be mortified about.

Back at the table, Lily seemed to be looking out for someone. "Oh, no one," she said, when Sirius questioned her as he sat down. "Just seeing who's around…"

He raised his eyebrows, but accepted this blatant lie with a nod. "Well, cheers," he clinked his glass with hers. "To your good health."

Her smile faltered just slightly; she covered it with a nod of her own, and a quick sip of her drink. "Cheers," she echoed.

"Want to play 'guess who's never had a date before'?" he asked, gesturing to the crowd around them. "Or bet on who'll be the first to sneak off together to the loos?"

"Not particularly," she replied. "God, do you often find entertainment in other people's love lives?"

"It's a very reliable source of hilarity," he smirked. "I'm only human, Evans."

"Hmm." She took a small sip of her drink, surveying the room once more. "What did you think of Merryton's latest essay?"

"Oh, come on," he sighed. "Surely we've got things to talk about other than a ruddy essay."

"I'm sure we do," she replied. "I was just asking."

"No talk about schoolwork," he told her. "That's second on my list, after no kissing."

"Fine," she agreed. "And no talking about other couples."

"Interesting you should want that topic off the table," he remarked. "Which couple are you avoiding, I wonder?"

"We'll never know, will we," she smiled tightly, "because it's against the rules."

"Alright," he agreed with a nod. "No couples."

There was a pause as they both sipped their drinks.

"So," he said.

"So," she said, with an almost nervous smile.

"I was hoping you might tell me what's been bothering you this term," he told her, as breezily as if they were talking about the weather. "You know, not eating much, distracted all the time, constantly looked exhausted."

"Well, thanks," she huffed, lifting her glass for a long sip.

"Obviously you're still gorgeous," he rolled his eyes. "But you're not yourself. Anyone with half a brain can see it."

She shifted in her seat, discomfort clear in every muscle, every carefully-guarded expression. "You lot all need to stop worrying so much."

"Mac tells me that worrying is what friends do," he said. "Are you saying you're perfectly fine? That nothing's been wrong? Because the Evans I know doesn't get absolutely trollied and act like a different person, even at her own birthday party."

Green eyes flickered up for a moment; lips pursed. "You're a born exaggerator, Black…"

"True, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm right." He leaned forward. "Come on, Evans. It might help to talk about it, maybe with someone who's not one of your best friends, but still a good enough friend to know you pretty well, who could listen and sympathise and beat the shit out of anyone who's upset you because this good-enough friend happens to be quite strong, and, as it turns out, breath-takingly handsome-"

"My mum's dying."

He stopped, glass frozen halfway to his mouth, and stared back at her. She wouldn't meet his eyes, instead focused intently on peeling apart the frayed card layers of one of the beer mats on the table. Words failed him for an agonising few moments. "Evans," he breathed, and set his glass down. "Lily. Christ. I'm-"

"Don't," she said quickly. Her face was pale, her shoulders stiff. "Don't say you're sorry."

He swallowed against the lump in his throat, but nodded. "When did you…?"

"Found a clinic letter on New Year's Eve," she replied. Given how she'd blurted out the initial secret, every word now was careful, considered, as if she'd measured the emotion appropriate for the speech, never too much to tip her over into anything real or raw. "Parents told me on New Year's Day." She looked up, briefly, a wry, sad smile on her lips. "They said they didn't want to ruin my Christmas."

He took all this in, trying to process it – then something occurred to him. "That letter, yesterday," he said. "Was it news from your dad?"

She blinked furiously down into her glass of Butterbeer. "I don't know," she replied. "It's still in my pocket."

He frowned. "Don't you want to-"

"No," she said, the word falling, heavy, from her mouth. "No, I don't want to know. If I don't read it, then I don't know."

He paused, then stood up; she watched, briefly confused, before her face slipped into an unsettling neutral again as he moved his chair round so they were side by side. Once sat back down, he looped his arm easily around her.

"Black," she sighed; he could tell how close she was to the edge. He'd lived there himself for months after he ran away from home. He knew how easy it was to fall. What a very long way down it was. "You don't need to-"

"This is shit, Evans," he interrupted, uncharacteristically quiet. "It's utter shit. There's no way round that fact." He paused; she drew in a shuddering breath. "But pretending it's not happening doesn't make it less real. Keeping it all to yourself doesn't change anything – it just means you're battling through this fucking awful thing, all on your own."

She tilted her head to catch his gaze, studying his face for a moment. "I don't think I can do it," she murmured.

"You don't really have a choice," he told her, as blunt as ever. "What you do have a choice over is letting the people that care about you – who love you – be there for you."

Her eyes were shining with tears now, tears she was desperately fighting to keep held back. "You've spent too much time with Mary," she told him. "That sounds like something she would say."

"Mac has a lot of wisdom to offer," he agreed with a small smile. "I know it's not the same, it's not remotely the same thing, but – you basically gave me the same advice, back when I was acting like I was the only person to have ever been angry or sad before."

She nodded. "Well, if it's my advice, I should definitely follow it," she tried to joke, but couldn't seem to force a smile to accompany it.

"Have you got the letter with you?" he asked; she nodded again, chewing on her lower lip. "Come on, then. I'm right here with you."

It seemed to take a lot of strength for her to even draw the letter from her pocket; her hands were trembling. He tightened his hold around her, rubbing mindless circles on her arm. It went against everything he believed in, but he stayed quiet – he knew that she didn't need him babbling on in her ear, not right now.

He looked away to give her some semblance of privacy. The letter wasn't long, and she was folding it back up, letting out a jolting sigh, only a few minutes later. "She went into hospital, for a few days," she said, quickly, discreetly, wiping at her eyes. "They had to give her something for the pain. She's back at home now."

He nodded. "Home's probably the best place for her to be, right?" he asked. "More comfortable…"

She stared down at the folded paper in her hands. "What if she dies," she murmured, "and I'm hundreds of miles away?" She closed her eyes for a moment; a tear spilled down her cheek, and instinctively, he reached to brush it away. "I'm so fucking scared I won't even get to say goodbye."

"Does McGonagall know?" She shook her head. "Speak to her, speak to your dad. There'll be a way they can set something up so if it's really urgent, they can let the school know quickly." He frowned. "The more people know, the more people can help. Minnie bloody well worships the ground you walk on, Evans. She'd do anything for her favourite student."

A more genuine smile this time, however teary. "Don't be jealous, Black."

"It's okay," he assured her. "I know that what Minnie and I share is a pure love." He gave her another gentle squeeze. "Promise me you'll tell the girls."

She winced. "They'll all have been having lovely, romantic days – I don't want to ruin that with-"

"Evans, they are desperate to help you," he pointed out firmly. "Mac has spent the last month and a half talking to me about how worried she is, how she wishes you would let them in. Valentine's Day hardly matters next to all this."

She sighed, tired, weighed down. "Fine," she agreed. "I'll tell them later."

"Good," he nodded, and gave her another smile. "Right, what's going to help now? Talking? Crying? Distractions? Chips?"

She wiped her cheeks again, sitting up a little straighter. "Distractions and chips," she replied. "Black – thanks."

He winked. "This is what friends are for, sweetheart."

James knew that Valentine's Day was a Serious Thing for girls. It had been almost all any of the female population of Hogwarts had been able to talk about for the past month, as far as he could tell, and he was well aware that some girls had reached true fever pitch in their anticipation of the event. When he'd pointed out to an extremely excitable Charlotte Swift that the Hogsmeade visit fell on the twelfth of February and not the fourteenth, she'd fixed him with such a look of disdain and disappointment that he'd quickly apologised and wandered off.

Luckily, Cadence seemed to have her expectations at a much more manageable level. She'd told him she was looking forward to it, but hadn't been banging on about it every time they hung out. And – mercifully – she had been clear that she did not want to go anywhere near Madam Puddifoot's. "I went last year with Tim Hawkins," she had said, shuddering at the memory. "Never again."

Easy to please, then – much more James' speed. He still laid on the romance, of course, he wasn't a complete idiot: he presented her with flowers he'd picked (or, as Remus had framed it, "stolen") from the greenhouses; he showered her with compliments for the carriage ride down to the village; he bought her – against her protests that she could pay for herself – the most ridiculous, heart-shaped box of chocolates he could find in Honeydukes.

She was easy to fawn over, really. He often found himself distracted by the little things she did, like how she would tuck her glossy golden hair behind her ear, a nervous habit that came out less as they got to know each other better. Or how she bit her lip when she concentrated, a little furrow appearing between her brows that was cuter than it should've been. Her voice, when she was enthused about a subject – so vibrant, pulling him in closer. There wasn't anything about her that he didn't like.

And it felt good, to have a girlfriend, to finally let go of – well – of that whole Lily situation (as he liked to call it in his head, or, as Sirius liked to call it, the Evans catastrophe) and move on with his life. He had Cadence at his side, Lily as his friend. It was good. It was great.

Which was why it was frustrating – angering, infuriating – to find his gaze drawn as it was, away from his beautiful, engaging girlfriend, across the pub to where he had an annoyingly good view of his best friend. He hadn't noticed them at first, but once he did, he found himself looking back more than was probably healthy, and trying not to analyse their actions.

Lily was facing away from him, Sirius sat opposite her initially; the next time James glanced over (trying his very best to still listen to Cadence's story about her first pet cat), he had moved to her side and had his arm around her. It was all he could do not to march over there and demand to know what was going on.

"…and we looked everywhere – I was getting so distraught, and Car was getting pissy because he always used to hate it when I cried, so…"

He nodded vaguely along with Cadence's words, his eyes drawn again by – was he touching her face?! His fists tightened instinctively in his lap.

"…and – James? Are you okay?"

He looked round quickly, guilt like an anchor around his neck. "Sorry, sorry, I – I'm fine."

Cadence frowned, glancing over her shoulder to see where he'd been looking – luckily, her view to Sirius' table was blocked by a group of fifth years. She shuffled her chair closer to his, rested her hand on his leg. "You sure?" she asked gently; her blue eyes gazed at him with such gentleness, such care. It only made him feel worse. "We can go, if you want to…"

He gave her a small but genuine smile. "I'm sure," he promised, covering her hand with his. "You were telling me about your cat."

She laughed, a laugh like shimmering diamonds, a laugh that warmed him. "Honestly, even I was getting fed up of that story," she said. She paused. "That was fun, last night, in the prefects' bathroom…"

He couldn't help a smirk. "It was, wasn't it?"

She leaned in a bit closer, her lips skating past his ear. "I was wondering, if you're not feeling great…maybe we should go and…warm up," she murmured, mischief in her eyes.

He started nodding before he'd even fully processed the words. "You're right," he said, pushing the chair back. "Maybe we should go."

"Oh, alright then," she smiled, standing up too. He pulled her closer for a quick kiss, and apparently gave her a new vantage point. "Hey, is that Sirius? With Lily?"

He followed her gaze – Sirius still had his arm wrapped around her, the bastard – and nodded. "Yep," he replied shortly, reaching for her hand. "Let's leave them to it and see about that warming up, shall we?"

"If you insist," she winked, and led the way out of the pub.

"Did he behave himself?" Marlene demanded as Lily entered the dormitory, still trying to recover from the shift in temperatures. Outside, it'd been almost arctic; thanks to Dorcas' skill at heating charms, their dorm was practically a tropical paradise. "Did he touch you anywhere he shouldn't have? Do I need to break any of his fingers?"

Lily sighed, pulling off her hat, gloves and scarf in quick succession and making a neat woolly pile at the end of her bed. "He was a perfect gentleman," she assured her friends, rather uncomfortable with their combined attentions – Dorcas was watching from a reclined position on her bed, while Mary had made herself comfortable against the pillows on Lily's bed, for some reason. "No breakages necessary. We're just friends, you know."

"I'm glad you went and had some company," Mary frowned. "I couldn't bear the thought of you sitting up here on your own."

"I am capable of being alone, you know," Lily said, now removing her coat. "A few hours up here reading would've been no hardship." She paused, that familiar anxiety bubbling in her gut – remembering her promise to Sirius. It just seemed awful, to bring everyone's moods down so abruptly. "How was your date, Mare?"

"Oh, it was sweet." Mary's face lit up with a smile. "George is so lovely, we spent most of the time chatting-"

"When they weren't frantically snogging," Dorcas interjected with a grin. "For example, outside the loos in the 'Sticks, or on the street outside Scrivenshaft's, or-"

"Yes, alright, Lily gets the picture," Mary rolled her eyes. "We chatted, and yes, we used our tongues for other things, too."

Lily chuckled, glancing over at Marlene. "And you had a good day?"

Marlene gave her a coy smile – and Lily was sure that Dorcas was probably looking similarly – and gave a simple nod. "I did."

"Good." Lily paused again, fidgeting with her jumper sleeve. "I'm glad."

"And you had fun with Sirius, then?" Mary asked. "I told him he had to be nice to you."

Lily shot her an exasperated look. "I don't need to be looked after, you know."

"I know," Mary replied, sending a not-so-subtle look over at Dorcas. "I just wanted to make sure you had fun."

Lily sighed. There really was no avoiding it any longer. She knew if she kept it all a secret now, Sirius wouldn't let it lie – it wasn't in his nature to do so. He could be extremely dedicated to something when he wanted to be, and Lily was under no illusions that this would be something he would put his full attention to: bothering her until she finally spoke to her friends.

She sat at the foot of her bed, looking from Mary, to Dorcas, to Marlene. They were her best friends. They would only want to help make things better. And saying the words out loud didn't change anything: the horrible fact was that her mum was dying, no matter who she told. There was no hiding from that.

Her dad's letter had shaken her – hell, had shaken her even before she'd opened it. For her mum to have been unwell enough to need time in hospital…it all felt so real now, no longer something she could squash down and ignore and hope it went away on its own. No longer something she could pretend just wasn't happening. And keeping it all in like this was wearing away at her, turning her into someone she was not: secretive, closed-off, untrusting. The truth of it was, she was terrified. Of the grief, the weight of it enough to drag her down, to drown her. Of the feeling of emptiness that she was sure would come when her mother died – like losing a limb, like having her heart ripped out of her chest but expected to just carry on living.

She was terrified of crumbling under it all, and not being able to put herself back together again.

She hated being scared. Fear was so unproductive – it sat uneasily inside her. She prided herself on being strong, brave, resilient. And yet it had taken only one sentence, from an unknown doctor in a plain white examination room, to wipe that all away.

Enough.

She drew in a deep breath, swallowed down her fear, and started to speak. "I need to tell you guys something…"

Remus felt quite sure that if his father could have seen him now, he would be far from impressed. The upstanding Lupin boy, prefect, hard-working – standing outside the Hog's Head tavern, swallowing down a rush of nerves as he stared up at the sign hanging precariously from one rusted chain. And that was even without knowing what his son had spent his day doing so far. Lyall had never said anything one way or the other, but Remus suspected that if he knew that Remus had been on a date with a boy – that he'd snogged that boy against the wall of the narrow alleyway behind the pub, amongst the empty barrels and crates of bottles, that this boy had stuck his hands down his trousers and made him shiver and groan to the point that he'd had to clamp a hand over his own mouth – he would be unimpressed, at best. Disgusted, at worst.

Bad enough he was so different already. Why indulge that, too?

But, standing outside the grottiest pub in Hogsmeade, about to meet with a famous Auror and his Defence teacher – something Lyall had explicitly told him not to do – well, maybe he didn't mind upsetting his father as much as he'd thought he would.

Merryton had called him over to her desk at the end of his Defence lesson on Thursday, barely glancing his way before she had said, "Moody will meet with you on Saturday. I take it you are familiar with the Hog's Head?"

"Oh, um," he had replied, because something about her seemed to vanish his entire sense of vocabulary and syntax. More than halfway through the year with her and she was still as terrifying as ever. "Yes, I know it."

"Meet us there at three," she'd said next, a command rather than a request. And that had been that.

Owain had been understanding, even though Remus' explanation for why he needed to abandon him to return to the castle on his own could have only been generously described as vague. He'd just smiled, pressed Remus up against the cold brick wall for another quick, blinding kiss, and said, "thanks for a fun day, Rem."

Remus swallowed hard at the memory. Probably best not to let his mind wander in that direction again – not when he was supposed to be presenting a serious, grown-up front.

The only thing worse than being nervous would be being late – especially knowing that Merryton was in there too – and so he pushed those nerves aside and pushed open the heavy oak door.

Inside, the pub was so dimly lit that it might as well have been evening. The floor was its usual state of oddly sticky, and there was a smell in the air that he couldn't quite identify. A few of the regulars he'd seen before slumped on the stools at the bar, muttering to each other over large glasses of ale. Only a few of the tables were occupied, and he soon spotted Merryton, her ice-blonde hair looking completely out of place amongst the dark, dingy surroundings. She was sat at the table by the fire, next to a man who, as Remus got closer, looked more and more grizzled. He did his best not to stare – knowing how that felt – at the raft of scars that littered his face and hands, the clear spell damage left behind by years in a dangerous job.

"Ah, there you are," Merryton said, glancing at her watch with just a flicker of displeasure. "I was wondering if you had forgotten, Lupin."

He gulped – actually gulped – and opened his mouth to reply, but Moody got there first.

"The lad's thirty seconds late, Serena. I think we can forgive him that, don't you?"

Christ. Remus just stared, wondering what on earth Merryton would say to that (Serena, her name was Serena – how bizarre that he had never considered until this very moment that she even had a first name).

His gaping only intensified when Merryton just laughed and rolled her eyes. Like a normal person might do. "Yes, alright," she agreed, and looked up at Remus again; a flash of irritation, although amused, crossed her face and she waved at the empty chair across the table from them. "Sit, then."

"Alastor Moody," the Auror introduced himself gruffly, reaching out to shake Remus' hand. "I've heard a lot about you, Mr Lupin."

"Remus," he replied, because it seemed like the polite thing to do. "You can…call me Remus."

Moody inclined his head in a brief nod. "Serena here tells me you're working beyond the N.E.W.T. level with Defence. Never seen a student like it, she says."

Remus glanced quickly at Merryton, shock apparently clear on his face, because the two adults both laughed. "Fuck's sake, woman, do you not compliment your students when they're any good?" Moody asked. "Or do you just carry on being frightening and imagine they'll divine the information some other way?"

"When I want your opinion on my teaching methods," Merryton replied, the chill in her voice undercut by the warmth of her gaze in Moody's direction, "I will ask for it."

Moody took a swig of his drink – some unknown, amber liquid, no ice – and returned his focus to Remus. "We need skilled Aurors," he said, "and we need people who have the brain and bravery to go with it. I'm sure you won't have failed to notice exactly how much this world is going to shit at the moment. Voldemort's only gaining more power."

Remus nodded, his hands knotting in his lap. "I – I want to be able to do something," he said, and it didn't feel enough. "Not just sit back and watch. Wait for something to happen to me, or…someone I care about." His thoughts flashed to Lily, and Mary, both Muggleborn, both already having had so much hatred, such vitriol directed at them, and only just seventeen. "I want to help."

Moody shared a brief, knowing look with Merryton, one Remus couldn't quite decode. "There could be problems, however," he continued, and lowered his voice subtly. "This isn't public knowledge yet, but new legislation is about to brought to the Wizengamot for a vote. Legislation that would make it impossible for lycanthropes to work for the Ministry." Moody's face twisted in a mask of pure anger. "To work for anyone, really."

Remus did his best to keep his face calm, empty of emotion. He'd always known it would be harder for him, after school – hell, it'd been hard for him to even get into school in the first place. Finding a job that was well-paid, that reflected his abilities and skills, was not something he could take for granted.

Hearing that it might become a lot harder, very soon, was like a blow to the gut.

"Do you think it would get the votes?" Merryton asked, in the same shrewd, dispassionate voice as she used in the classroom. Something about it now made him want to stand up, grab the glass from the table, throw it across the room – to make it clear that this was his life she was discussing in such a cold, clinical way.

Of course, he didn't do that. Just kept his hands knotted in his lap.

"It's not clear," Moody replied. "There's certainly enough to get it through to the second round of voting. Then it's whether Minchum will back it…" He turned back to Remus. "There may still be ways you can… 'do something'. Just not through the official channels."

Remus couldn't begin to understand what that meant. "Like what?" he asked, because dissolving into a mess about his empty, pathetic future was not currently an option.

Moody leaned forward, a different kind of twinkle in his dark eyes. "Have you heard," he asked, "of the Order of the Phoenix?"

The common room was unusually quiet, given that on a Hogsmeade weekend it was usually full of disgruntled first and second years. Maybe they'd taken their irritation elsewhere, because Sirius had his pick of seats, eventually choosing his favourite armchair by the fire. Evans had headed up to her dorm a while ago, and Sirius hoped against hope that she was finally telling her friends what was going on with her. And not just for altruistic reasons – being the only one who knew about something that big was not something he would enjoy. He was terrible at keeping secrets. Just ask Moony.

And he could empathise, of course he could – he wasn't a monster. But it had crossed his mind, as he sat across from Lily in the pub, that he wasn't sure quite how he would react if he received news of his own mother's impending death. He didn't think he'd be devastated, as Lily clearly was; there would be some sadness, probably, that frustrating familial connection still there even if it was buried deep under layers of anger and years of bitterness. But the sadness would be tempered with a whole host of other emotions, probably: fury, at her dying before he could show her exactly how big a mistake she had made in not loving him as a mother should; and, likely, a dark seam of happiness, to think of her in pain, pain like she had caused him. And, yes, he knew that probably made him a bad person.

Unfortunately, he wasn't likely to get that kind of news any time soon. Knowing Walburga Black, she would outlive them all out of pure spite.

He'd been brooding by the fire, thinking about his mother and hating that he was, for about an hour when James came into the common room. For a moment, his friend hadn't seen him, and so he could watch him unobserved: he had his hands rammed into his pockets; his hair was damp, for some reason, and as messy as ever; he looked, at first, to be quite relaxed – probably something to do with the hint of red and purple at his collar, the classy git – but that look stiffened almost imperceptibly when he finally caught sight of Sirius sitting by the fire. That wasn't a reaction that Sirius was used to, and he was already frowning as James made his way over.

"Alright, mate?" he asked as James stopped behind the armchair opposite, his hands resting on the back as if he needed the support. "Nice hickey. Have fun with Cadence, did we?"

The look James gave him was a fascinating one – a churning mixture of frustration, distraction and irritation. It wasn't as if they had never pissed each other off before, but this felt new, and Sirius couldn't put his finger on why. "Yeah, good thanks," James replied shortly.

"Yeah?" Sirius asked idly. "You might want to tell your face, then, mate."

James glanced away, his mental process clear on his face. Sirius knew him better than he knew himself – his friend was debating on whether to say something or not. Fascinating. "You had a good day, then?" he asked eventually, each word grinding out of his mouth painfully.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Er – yeah, I did," he confirmed. "Good company, a few drinks – what's not to enjoy?"

Prongs' eyes narrowed, his arms tense. "Look," he bit out. "I saw you two."

For a moment, Sirius was tempted to laugh – he did have some sense of self-preservation, though, and instead chose to smirk. Although, judging by the twitch in James' jaw, maybe that hadn't helped either. "Okay?"

"Don't fuck around, Pads," James frowned. "You were all over her!"

His smirk faded and his irritation grew. "What the bloody hell are you on about?" he asked, sitting forwards now, his casual slouch long gone. "We're friends – we sat and had a few drinks and then came back!"

Evidently, this situation wasn't quite perilous enough, because Remus chose that moment to return to the common room, wandering over to them just in time to catch the tail end of the conversation. "Everything alright, mate?" he asked James cautiously.

James turned to Remus, his face set in stony fury. "Pads was just explaining how having his arms round Evans and lovingly caressing her face makes them just friends."

Remus looked over at Sirius, his face almost impassive. On any other occasion, Sirius might've paused to analyse the flash in his eyes of something like jealousy, would've wanted to dig into where that emotion came from. But he didn't have time for that. "Give me some fucking credit, James," he said sharply, standing up now too. "She was upset, I was comforting her – you know, like friends do!"

"Right," James replied, voice weighed down with sarcasm. "The classic Black comfort – isn't that what you've been doing with girls in broom cupboards all year?"

Sirius did his best to swallow down his anger at that comment. "It's not the same thing at all, you daft bastard," he replied fiercely. "Why do you care so much anyway, Prongs? Surely Evans is free to do whatever she likes with whomever she likes?"

James stepped closer, but not in a way that could be misconstrued as friendly. "You know why," he muttered; Remus moved forward too, quickly, putting his hand on James' arm – he shook it off without looking round. "You're my best mate and you know why, but you did it anyway-"

"James," Remus cut in, a quiet warning.

"No, let him say what he wants to say," Sirius glared. "Apparently being his best mate doesn't give me the benefit of the doubt at all. He'd rather believe what his jealous brain wants to think, rather than what I have told him – the truth." He brushed past James, taking a few steps before he paused, looking back. "You need to get a fucking grip, Prongs. You can't be getting your neck sucked by one bird and then get angry when another one is anywhere near a bloke."

James blew out a heavy breath, raking his hand through his mess of hair. "You're saying that nothing-"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Even if I was attracted to her – which, by the way, I am not – you're my best friend," he replied, quietly, coldly. "Maybe I'm not as big an asshole as you apparently think I am, eh Prongs?"

He saw the flicker of regret, of embarrassment, in his friend's eyes, but he didn't stay to hear anymore. This day had gone on long enough, and if he didn't take himself out of this situation soon, he was going to punch something. Or someone.

For the first time in months, he drew the curtains around his bed, and didn't make a move to open them, not even when he heard voices and footsteps around him a while later.

What a fucking day.