The Marauder's Secrets

Author's Note: Fun fact! After Chapter One (Head Boy), this was the first chapter I wrote, and the scene that lead me to writing this whole huge project. So I hope you enjoy :)

Everything is dark.

I feel warm. And heavy. And sore. I shift my legs and my muscles shriek in protest.

"Ow," I say, surprised, and my eyes pop open.

"Lily? Merlin, Lily, are you okay? I can't believe…"

Even in the dark, I know exactly whose voice that is. It's thick with worry. I try to sit up but instantly his hands are on my shoulders, pushing me gently but firmly back onto the bed. "Oh no you don't."

I'm too tired and sore to resist. Instead, I lie there and blink, trying to force my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Slowly, with the help of the silver moonlight streaking in through the high windows, James's figure grows more distinct and I realize as I take in the row of beds with their crisp white sheets and shiny metal frames behind him that we are in the Hospital Wing.

James sits in a chair at my bedside. He leans forward, his hands still on my shoulders like he's afraid I'll try to get up again. He's pale beneath his dark mop of hair, which is untidier than ever, and his mouth is a thin, worried line.

"James?"

"Lily? What do you need, love? Should I get Pomfrey?"

"I'm starving."

His body relaxes a little and he rubs his eyes under his glasses. "You're starving…" he mutters, reluctant amusement in his voice. "You face off against a werewolf, run for your life through the Forbidden Forest, get pummeled by the Whomping Willow, and all you can say is you're starving. Of course."

"When you put it like that…" I mutter.

But now, the images that hadn't fully formed since I woke flood my mind. My limbs stiffen as I remember the wolf slipping out of the undergrowth, slitted eyes fixed on me, and the long painful scramble through the trees...

I close my eyes to dispel the memories. No need to live it twice. I'm alive. And safe.

When I open my eyes again, James's face has lost any trace of amusement. He's watching me carefully.

"What's going on?" I ask.

He unconsciously raises a hand to his head, rubbing his hair, not meeting my eyes. "Now's not the time, Lily. You need rest, you've got to heal."

"James." He stops, eyes flashing to mine reluctantly. "I need to know."

He sighs, deep and heavy, and his hand goes to rub his hair again. I surprise us both by reaching out and catching it before he can. He doesn't pull away. Instead, he threads his fingers with mine and slowly lowers our hands to rest on his leg. He studies them, stroking my fingers absent-mindedly, seeming thankful for the distraction. My stomach twists under his whisper-light touch, but not at all in an unpleasant way.

"James," I say again, softer this time. "Please."

And, still focused on our hands, he begins to talk.

"We've been friends since first year, you know that. We met on the train and then we all ended up in Gryffindor, and it just seemed… right, you know? Me and Sirius and Remus and Peter. The brothers I never had, that none of us ever had. Even Sirius, who actually has a brother… well, you know Regulus. They're not family anymore, not by anything more than blood.

"At first, that whole first year, it was all about the fun. Sirius and I… well," James's face twists into a reluctant grin. "The two of us together thought of enough mischief to put the worst of them to shame. Peter had this knack for getting us all the more excited about our ideas and coming up with the most brilliant ways to execute our plans. We'd have all been kicked out by Halloween without Remus to balance us out. He'd reel us in when we started going too far. He was the voice of reason in our group, and together we caused more mischief than we ever could independently. Merlin, we had fun."

I roll my eyes, but James, still talking to our hands, doesn't notice.

"'Course, as tight as we got, it wasn't long before we started to wonder about Remus. He was sick so often, or always going home. Once a month, it seemed. But first year, we let it slide. We were too caught up in the fun.

"Second year, though, I guess we all grew up a little and started to care more about each other. We couldn't help but notice cuts and scars on Remus that seemed to appear in tandem with his disappearances. We were all worried, but Remus brushed it off. Accidents and things. I… I recognized the pattern first. Remus was gone once a month. Once a month every month at the full moon."

I still. I know what's coming, obviously, but hearing it confirmed aloud by James makes it more real somehow, the connection between my friend Remus and the terrible bloodthirsty beast I'd seen. James notices and looks at me for the first time. "We can talk about it later, if you want." His voice caresses as gently as his hands.

"No." My voice creaks. "No, keep going. I'm just wondering…how did you…what did you…what did you think when you found out?" I try to imagine being twelve years old and finding out Marlene or Alice or Emmeline or Merlin, even Mary or Carol was a werewolf and continuing to share a dorm with them, interact with them on a regular basis, be friends with them… I want to think the best of myself, say of course finding out wouldn't have changed our relationship but… I can't be sure.

James sighs. "I didn't know what to think at first, honestly. A werewolf. It was too big a problem for me to even comprehend. I'm not proud, but I gave Remus some space for a couple of days, gave all the guys some space, because I wasn't sure what to share and who to share it with and how this would change us.

"But then… the more I thought about it, and believe me, I thought about it all the time, the more I realized this didn't have to change anything." James's voice strengthens. "Remus had been a werewolf all first year too. He hadn't changed. We didn't have to change. And I knew Sirius and Peter would feel that way too.

"So I told the two of them in confidence one night. And I was right. They weren't bothered in the slightest. Instead, the three of us began devising a plan to help Remus instead."

He glances at me then, as if checking I'm still here, still awake, still following.

"Keep going," I say softly. I have the feeling this is the first time he's ever told the whole story – like, of course the four of them all know it, but they've never had to tell it, never had to put it into words like this.

"We knew we couldn't be any help the way we were. I mean, yes, we were there waiting for Remus every morning after his transformations, and we let him know we didn't care. That he was a werewolf. That first time after we all knew..." He smiles, and it's very soft and unexpected in the seriousness of the story. "We camped out all night by the Whomping Willow. It was freezing." He laughs, remembering. "But we wanted to be there in the morning for him. We wanted him to know that we were still there for him. He was still our brother."

I squeeze his hand. "I'm sure that meant a lot to Remus."

"Yeah, it did. And for a bit, that was enough. It was enough we accepted him and helped him recover, cheered him up when he got down about it."

"But?" I prompt.

"But..." he sighs. "We wanted to do more. Those transformations... they were just terrible on him, you know? It's a... hard thing to experience. Painful. And he was so out of control those nights. He'd come back with so many bites and scratches from being cooped up in the Shrieking Shack, and we knew we needed to do more.

"Werewolves are only dangerous to humans, everyone knows that. So, the solution was simple. We needed to become not human. We needed to become Animaguses."

It's my turn to laugh. "Yes, very simple. You were... what, how old? When you decided this?"

"Thirteen," he says, one side of his mouth quirking up.

"Ah, to be thirteen and feel that confident," I say.

"Yes, it did become apparent pretty quickly it was not going to be as quick and easy as we'd like it to be. In fact, it took the better part of two years. Do you know how many bloody steps there are to becoming an Animagus? How many things can go wrong, and you have to start all over again? Merlin, we started over and over and over again... But finally, early in our fifth year, we got it."

"Fifth year?" I say, shocked. "You were fifteen and you all did it?"

"Yeah," he says, and he sounds as incredulous as I do. "Yeah, we did."

"How in the name of Merlin did you manage it all on your own?" I shake my head. I'm running over everything I can remember about Animaguses from what Professor McGonagall's told us, and James is right – there's a ridiculous amount of complicated work to it. "Wait a moment – fourth year!" I accuse. "I remember this! You lot were all so into the bloody Quiet Game of all things around that time, it was the oddest thing!" I laugh, and James joins in.

"The Mandrake leaf was such a pain. We started that step alone probably a dozen times because we all kept swallowing them. Or they'd fall out when we were talking. Plus, we didn't want anyone to notice. Hence, the Quiet Game."

I laugh again. It's all so unbelievable, and yet... I'd seen it. They'd done it. They were stupid and fifteen and determined and loyal and they'd done it.

"That's... incredible," I say. "That's amazing. I can't... I can't believe you did that. All that. Just for your friend."

He shrugs, as if it was all nothing. As if he didn't spend two full years when he was thirteen on a feat of magic so difficult and complex most adult wizards don't even bother trying, on his own, just so he could help a friend out once a month. "Moony needed us. It's been so worth it."

"Moony..." I repeat back. And I keep going, thinking of how their nicknames spill across the Marauder's Map. "Wormtail, Padfoot, and..." I look at him. "Prongs."

He smiles a small smile. "That's all of us. Couldn't resist, I suppose. I mean, we were just fifteen and so bloody proud of ourselves..."

"Rightfully so," I say, and how awestruck I'm feeling must show on my face, because his smile grows, but it's a little self-conscious.

"Don't get too carried away, Lily," he warns. "You should know we've been wildly irresponsible since then and have done some very stupid things just because we could."

I laugh again. "I'd expect nothing less from you lot. And I can't hardly care, because I'm just so blown away by it all."

He leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead. "I'm sorry you got mixed up with everything tonight, Lily," he whispers, pulling back so he can look at me. "And I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"You couldn't," I say, and I finally believe it. Of course he's been keeping this to himself – it really never was his secret to tell, and it's so much bigger than I expected. If the roles had been reversed, I would've held this secret just as tightly as he had.

"But if I'd told you more, you wouldn't have gotten hurt. It's my fault you're in a hospital bed, my fault –"

I cover his mouth with my hand. "You're exactly right," I say. "It is your fault I'm here." His eyes widen, but I keep going. "Your fault I'm here instead of dead on the grounds somewhere, or infected, or way more injured. My fault I was out there at all."

He just watches me, his eyes sad and guilty and pained. His breath warms my palm.

"Really," I say, because I can tell he's not convinced. "Thank you. And I'm sorry I didn't trust you before. I was wrong." I remove my hand, fairly certain he isn't going to keep blaming himself for my mistake. "That's the second time now that I owe you my life," I tell him. "How could I doubt you anymore?" I shake my head. "I don't. I trust you."

He's still very close, still holding my hand, and I mean it. I trust him.

And then my mind warps the words into other, newer, scarier ones.

I don't doubt you. I trust you.

I love you.

The thought shocks me. It's almost certainly the adrenaline of the night lingering, heightening all my emotions and intensifying the moment. It's too much, too sudden, too soon… right? But it's there and I can't dislodge it. It burrows in my mind, deeper and deeper until I worry the words will make their way to my tongue, and I don't know if I'm ready for that yet.

A noise at the other end of the Hospital Wing stirs us apart. Madame Pomfrey bustles up to my bed. She sets a mug on my bedside table. "Awake now, are you?" she asks kindly. Then she looks at James, who's drawn back into his chair but still holds tightly onto my hand. I don't try to pull away. "And you, Mr. Potter?" she says, and it's a little stern.

"I'm staying with Lily," James says, and his tone leaves little room for argument.

"Of course you are," Madame Pomfrey sighs. "I suppose for a night like tonight, we can make an exception. How are you feeling, Miss Evans?"

"Sore," I say honestly. "But mostly okay. Just tired."

She checks me over, pulling down the bedcovers to examine my legs. They're mottled purple from nearly hip down. James hisses sharply.

"I guess that explains the soreness," I say weakly. Even I'm shocked at how bad I look.

"Yes, but the Healing Potion I got in you earlier will take care of that – so long as you get some sleep," Madame Pomfrey says. She frowns at James. "You got that, Mr. Potter? You let Miss Evans sleep."

"Yes, ma'am," he says, and there's only sincerity in his tone.

"And you, Miss Evans..." She looks at me. "I know you've had quite the night, but before I give you your Sleep Potion, I have to ask. Will you keep what you saw tonight to yourself?"

"Of course," I say.

She's frowning at me now. "I mean it. Not a word to anyone. Not to Miss McKinnon or Miss Walker or Miss Vance or anyone. We promised Remus his secret would be safe, and I'm not letting even you ruin that for him."

"I won't say anything!" I promise fervently. I'm a bit touched by how defensive she is of Remus. But then, it made sense; she's been bandaging him up and helping him through this in her own way since he was eleven. "I promise. Remus is my friend too. I won't share his secret."

She nods. "Good. And now, sleep time for you." She picks up the mug and hands it to me. "All of it, if you please. It'll help you sleep deep and dreamless long enough for you to recover."

"Thanks," I say. Though I'm not sure it's necessary. Already, I'm so tired I feel like I could sleep till Monday and it wouldn't even be hard.

Madame Pomfrey looks at James. "Make sure she finishes that," she says. "Good night, you two." And she leaves, shutting herself back in her quarters at the other end of the Wing.

"You heard her," James says. "Drink up."

Obediently, I lift the mug to my lips. The liquid is warm and smooth and spiced, and it's not difficult to drain it all. Almost immediately I feel sleep settling in my limbs, and I sink back into my pillow.

"James," I say, even as my eyes already flutter shut.

"Yeah, Lily?"

"Stay," is all I manage. His grip tightens on my hand, and then everything goes warm and dark again.