A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed last chapter, I enjoy hearing your thoughts around where the story is going, and of course, it encourages me to write more. If you're new, welcome!

II. We Wear Red (It Hides the Blood)

"I should be a postage stamp. That's the only way I'll ever get licked."

– Muhammad Ali

"Prongs, get down!"

James dropped to his knees as a vivd jet of purple light shot through the corridor, exploding on contact with the narrow passage. Sirius returned fire with a burst of hexes, each making a screeching noise as they flew overhead. Three Slytherin boys beat a hasty retreat as the throng of Gryffindor students accompanying the Marauders started drawing their wands.

"Better luck next time!" Sirius jeered after them.

"If that had hit you, you'd be in the hospital wing for a week," Remus said, inspecting the scorch mark left behind from the purple curse.

James grinned.

"Nothing quite like Quidditch season."


James lounged in his armchair in the Gryffindor Common Room, idly flicking through the pages of a book that had seen decidedly better days.

Every now and then, his eyes shifted from the pages to scan the room. Frank Longbottom sat with his attached-at-the-hip girlfriend, Alice, arguing over a chess board. Marley was chewing the end of her quill, a frown creasing her forehead as she contemplated an unfinished essay. James caught a flash of red hair, and sat up.

"Evening, Evans."

Lily ignored him as she walked past.

"Evans!"

Letting out an audible sigh, Lily turned and faced him with a scowl.

"What is it?"

James closed his book.

"Hogsmeade trip after the game this weekend?"

"Not a chance."

"Pity. You don't know what you're passing up."

"They say ignorance is bliss."

He grinned.

"You break my heart, Evans."

"Yes, I'm sure that's the part of your anatomy that's disappointed."

"Not at all," he replied easily, his eyes roving over her attire. "One glimpse of you in that tight little skirt and I'm set for days."

"Goodbye, Potter."


"I wish full moon was tonight," said Sirius.

"Merlin, I know I don't." Lupin replied.

"Well at least it's something to do."

"Yes, I mean, turning into a werewolf. Great fun. Lots of laughs to be had," Remus replied dryly.

"Then suggest something else then," said Sirius.

"Hexed Snape lately?" he replied.

"Only three times in the last week. I swear, one day, I'll drown the git in a puddle of his own oil."

"Gents," James greeted, entering the dorm.

Sirius and Remus gave a nod in reply as James fell back on his bed.

"Where's Wormtail?" James asked.

"In the library," Remus supplied.

"Doing what?"

"Reading, I presume."

James sat up, an incredulous expression on his features.

"Wormtail can read?"

"And write too, if you can believe. We're very proud," Remus said dryly.

"Anyone hungry?" Sirius asked.

"Nah. Don't feel like eating," James replied.

The three young men lapsed into a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the rustle of a magazine, and the scratching of Remus' quill on his parchment. Then:

"Evans said no again."

Sirius and Remus let out a collective groan of disgust, and James hastily dodged the pillow that was thrown in his direction.

"Who the fuck cares?" Sirius asked.

"Lily might say yes to a date with you if you showed a bit of maturity around her," Remus remarked.

"Fuck, Remus, you sound like a right twat," Sirius replied derisively. "Don't ever change, Prongs, there's a good lad."

"I'm Quidditch Captain, how much more mature do I need to be?"

"Well, it's not just that," Remus replied, pulling a rude gesture in Sirius' direction. "She might appreciate a sincere–"

"That's bollocks," Sirius interrupted. "Yes, Evans is fit. But she doesn't like you. Plenty of other girls like you though. They were all over you at Beauxbatons, remember. And French birds are notoriously difficult to impress. So it's not you, it's her."

"In a twisted Padfoot kind of way, that actually makes some sense," said Remus begrudgingly.

"Hmm? I was thinking about Beauxbatons," James reminisced.

"I was thinking about Mademoiselle Belgarde," Sirius replied. "How on earth did you end up with her, Remus? Lucky git."

"Maybe werewolves are her type."

"What was it McGonagall said? I'd rather be forced to endure you three on this trip than leave you all behind in Scotland doing Merlin-knows-what to the castle," Sirius recalled.

"She's a good bird, McGonagall is."


The rest of the week passed without injury, as something of an uneasy truce between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students had been agreed upon following the incident in the corridor.

"Have you seen my spare gloves?" James asked irritably, surveying the cluttered dormitory he shared with the other Marauders. "Thomson can't find his, the useless prick, so I said he could borrow mine."

"Nope," said Sirius, not looking up from his magazine.

"Can't say I have," Peter replied.

James made an exasperated noise and started rummaging through his trunk.

"The Map isn't working properly," Peter reported, peering closely at what appeared to be a worn piece of parchment.

"What do you mean?"

"Look, it's doing the thing again," Peter said, tapping it with his wand. The parchment gave no response, and the boy made a dissatisfied sound.

"I told you it was fucked the other day," Sirius remarked, lounging on his four-poster bed.

"Bugger off, nothing's wrong with my Charms work," said James, throwing a dirty pair of socks across the room.

"Evans makes you look like shite," Sirius retorted.

"Evans makes all of us look like shite in Charms," James replied, looking up from the pile of clothing he had unceremoniously dumped on the floor. "Give it here, Wormtail."

Remus entered the dormitory as Peter handed the Map over.

"How were rounds?"

"Shite," Remus replied, disgruntled.

"Who were you with?"

"Eloise Duffy."

"The one from Hufflepuff with the tits?"

"She's female, Sirius," James said from across the room, Map in one hand and wand in the other. "They all have tits."

"But hers are–"

"Yes, her," Remus interjected. "She could bloody talk underwater. Didn't get a word in edgeways all evening."

"Wormtail, wanna take a quick walk? I think I've got it working again," James interrupted, giving the Map a couple of prods with his wand.

The boy nodded, and a moment later, a small rat scurried across the room and out the door.

"Bloody handy, that is," James remarked.

"He's going to get eaten by Alice's cat one of these days, I know it," Sirius added.


Cupping her mug of tea with in her hand, Lily clambered through the portrait hole. It was late - past late - but the House Elves, fond of the Muggleborn witch, always welcomed her into the school kitchens.

She went to take a seat, but found another person quietly walking in front of the hearth. Only the dim glow of the fireplace reflected his features, but there was no mistaking his mop of hair.

Potter.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Pacing, Evans."

"It's three in the morning," she replied, putting her mug down and nestling herself into a comfortable armchair.

"And?"

"Isn't a bit late?"

"I can't sleep," he said, pausing to take a seat himself.

"Oh?"

"Game tomorrow. Can never sleep before a match," he explained, and there was a strange sort of vulnerability in his admission.

"Wouldn't that make you a bit useless on the pitch?"

"You'd think so, but Sirius brews this potion that gives you a real kick up the–"

"Right."

"What are you doing up?" he asked, curiousity forming on his features.

"Reading for Charms," she said, pointing at a small stack of books sitting on the coffee table in front of her.

"The test isn't until Tuesday week."

"Yes, but we've that other assignment due on Monday."

"I should probably start that," he replied, making a face.

"You should," Lily said, opening one of the books and leafing through it to find her page.

"Well, night," James said, standing up and shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Goodnight."

He walked away, and Lily went back to her book and her mug of tea.

"Oh, one more thing Evans," James added, pausing on the stairs. "Will you–"

"No," she replied flatly, not looking up from her book.

He smirked audibly.

"Didn't think so."


Professor Hawthorne, the flying instructor, beckoned the two Captains to the middle of the pitch.

"I want a clean game. Honourable play from both sides."

Fat chance of that, James thought. Honourable play meant shit. Winning was all that mattered.

He shook hands with the Hufflepuff captain, Baxley, and retreated to his end of the pitch to confer with his team in the huddle.

"Alright, he began. "Fuck them up. I want Ravenclaw and Slytherin shitting themselves at the mere thought of having to play us this term. Understand?"

Gryffindor's Quidditch Team was characterised by two traits: a near-sadistic aptitude for violence, and an all-consuming desire to humiliate their opponents.

It wasn't pretty, but Quidditch wasn't a pretty sport.

James hawked and spat, then raised his gloved fist skywards.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"GRYFFINDOR!" chorused the team.

Hawthorne's whistle blew, and both sides settled into formation as the roar of the crowd grew to its loudest yet.

Moments later, the Quaffle was tossed skyward, and the game begun in earnest.

James snatched the ball, and accelerated sharply towards the Hufflepuff end, letting a smirk cross his features as he saw the Hufflepuff Chasers struggling to match his speed. He was astride a custom-built Nimbus Racing Broom that he'd modified himself. Sure, it wasn't technically regulation, but any idiot who used a match-legal broom was just asking to have his arse handed to him.

And James Potter was not in the business of losing.

A well-aimed Bludger shot towards him, but he dodged it and continued onwards. Hufflepuff's second Beater flew at him in an attempt to block, but Marlene McKinnon, flying in support, pushed him off course.

James slowed as he reached the area, feinted right, then calmly put the Quaffle through the centre hoop as the Keeper took the bait.

James grinned as the Gryffindor stand went wild.

It was going to be a long day for Hufflepuff House.


Pain blossomed across James' face as the Bludger hit the side of his head with a sickening crack. He spat a dislodged tooth out of his mouth, ignoring the splatter of blood that ran down his robes.

Gryffindors wore red for a reason.

Jerking the handle of his room down, he dropped sharply to avoid a tackle, then swerved to avoid the second Bludger.

His Beaters were sodding useless today.

The third Chaser came up to block him, but James shoved an elbow in his chest as he flew into the area, and the Hufflepuff player fell back. Firing the Quaffle into the right hoop was a formality.

A roar of approval came from the Gryffindor stands as James signalled for a timeout.

"I need some fucking cover!" he shouted at his Beaters, before tapping his wand to his jaw, wincing in pain.

"Looks bad, Cap," Sirius said.

"Funny that," he replied, giving Sirius a dark look. The Bludger that had hit him was Sirius' responsibility on the play.

James looked to his Seeker, a fifth-year named Alistair Thomson.

"You've had two hours," he berated. "Catch the fucking Snitch next time you see it. We've only got another twenty minutes before it'll slow down, and I don't want to make it any easier for them."

The shrill whistle blew once again, and the two sides resumed play.


"And McKinnon intercepts with a brilliant piece of work, draws in the Chaser - offloads to Potter, who's through!"

The last Hufflepuff Chaser made to intercept him with a diving tackle, and James was forced to swerve away, and then rapidly drop as a Bludger screamed overhead.

"Putting up a bit of fight now. Hufflepuff aren't making this one easy!"

The Chaser shoved his shoulder into James' side, reaching for the Quaffle. James veered upwards, then launched a swift kick, his heel colliding with the Chaser's nose. A fountain of blood burst from the wound, and the boy careened to the ground.

A cry of anger had risen from the Hufflepuff stands, but Hawthorne hadn't seen the foul. James rushed to the hoops, and put the Quaffle through once again.

"Potter scores again, but he's lucky to escape a foul on the play. Tensions are running high on the pitch – oh! That's going to leave a mark!"

James had taken a Bludger directly to the chest, losing his broom close to the ground.

A loud roar of approval came from the Hufflepuff and Slytherin stands, as many amongst the Gryffindor spectators gasped out in dismay.

"Potter is tasting dirt, but he's getting up. Those ribs can't be looking too good, that was one hell of a hit from Hufflepuff's Jacoby, who has been excellent all day."

James hawked and spat, then reached out a hand to summon his broom, a few feet away. Mounting it, he launched back into the air.

"Potter is back up! And he's not happy! Black is getting an earful from the looks of things. And now, Hufflepuff score! Is this the momentum change they've desperately needed?"


Quaffle under his arm, James screamed towards the Hufflepuff hoops, hugging his body flat to his Nimbus as he outpaced the opposition Chasers. On his left, Jacoby was closing in to intercept, with Sirius in pursuit of the Hufflepuff Beater.

James decelerated, passing the Quaffle to Marley as he did, then veered left to meet Jacoby with a shoulder charge, pushing him into the path of Sirius, who elbowed him low in the gut. Together, the two Marauders sandwiched the Hufflepuff Beater in, then, with a sudden twist, sent him spinning out of control into a collision course with one of the spectator towers.

"Hawthorne calls what has got to be the most shockingly blatant foul we've seen today on Potter and Black, but that's not going to help–"

The hapless boy hit the stands with a crunch that sounded across the pitch, and fell to the ground. James grinned with grim satisfaction, and circled back towards the Gryffindor end.

"Jacoby is getting medical attention, now, and Potter sweeps past the Slytherin stand, pausing to deliver a gesture that will no doubt land him in detention once again…wait, I think - yes, he's seen it! Thomson is diving, diving, he's seen the Snitch and this time, it won't escape, surely. He's closing in, Hufflepuff nowhere in sight, and…he does it! GRYFFINDOR WIN!"

"About fucking time," James muttered under his breath, as he raised a clenched fist into the air, pulling his broom around to perform a victory lap with his bloody, but unbeaten team.


James made his way to Gryffindor Tower, nursing a slightly-swollen jaw - the result of Pomfrey replacing several teeth yet again. He rounded the corner to find Lily conversing with the Fat Lady, her ever-present satchel of books slung over her shoulder.

"'cuse me, Evans."

"Are you going the party?"

"Course," he said.

"How much potion have you had?" she said, a small crease between her eyes.

"Honestly, I snuck some extra when Pomfrey wasn't looking."

"And you're going to drink on painkillers," she surmised, her tone taking on an edge of disapproval.

"I put two hundred points past Hufflepuff today, Evans. I hurt like a motherfucker. And besides, that's half the fun," he said, then turned to the Fat Lady. "Erstwhile."

"That's not good for you, Potter," she said, clambering through the portrait hole after him.

"Neither are you, but it hasn't stopped me trying."

Her retort was interrupted by a lion's earsplitting roar.

"He's back!" hollered Sirius. "Nineteen goals, six fouls, bruised ribs, and several missing teeth, your fucking Captain, James Potter!"

The crowd of Gryffindor students roared in approval.

James raised a hand in acknowledgement and grinned through his bruised features.

"Ta, all."

Sirius thrust a bottle of Firewhiskey into his hand, and James took a long draught, then raised the bottle in a toast.

"To beating the shite out of Hufflepuff. It never gets old. Drink up!"


A week had passed since the Quidditch game, and the missing teeth, cracked ribs, and assorted bruises had become a past memory. Ravenclaw would play Slytherin in the next game, and James was glad to not be looking over his shoulder as he made his way down to dinner. At the Gryffindor table, he took a seat next to Sirius.

"Where are the others?"

"Moony's seeing Pomfrey. Fuck knows what Wormtail's up to," Sirius replied.

James nodded and began to pull food onto his plate.

"That's strange," Marley remarked suddenly, looking up at the ceiling.

"Hmm?" said Lily, looking up from her book.

"An owl, at dinner," Marlene pointed.

"That's a Ministry owl," Sirius said, as the bird circled overhead, then landed on the table in front of James. The young man took the proffered envelope, then rummaged in his pocket for a treat, which he fed to the grateful bird.

"Your dad?" Sirius questioned him.

"Yeah," James replied, inspecting the envelope. He slid it inside his robes, and then suddenly stood and left the table, quickly making his way out of the Hall.

Lily and Marlene exchanged a look.

"What's that all about?" Marley asked Sirius.

"Potter business," Sirius replied cryptically, then went back to his meal.


After dinner, Lily settled in to the plush armchair by the fireplace in the Gryffindor Common Room. By rights it was Potter's, but she wasn't above taking advantage of the fact he would never tell her to get off it. Besides, the chair was far more comfortable than it had any right to be.

With an idle flick of her wand, she turned on the wireless sitting on the coffee table next to her.

"…Auror Commander gave reassurances that Voldemort's organisation of Death Eaters did not amount to a tangible threat against ordinary magical folk. Speaking at a press conference today, the Commander fielded questions about Voldemort's political movement."

"That's all they are. A political organisation. I've met with several wizards in their leadership, and I assure you that their sole aim is the just and equal representation of pureblood wizards and witches in magical society."

"That's all well and good, Commander, but how do you reconcile that belief with the recent–"

"Turn it off. Or put on something else," interrupted James irritably, suddenly standing beside her.

"What's wrong with the news?" Lily replied, scowling.

"Nothing's wrong with the news. But you won't find it listening to that," he said derisively, nodding in the direction of the wireless.

"Bugger off, Potter, I'll listen to it if I like," she replied, making her point by raising the volume.

James bit back a retort, muttering something under his breath, then stalked away.


"And then he said that I wouldn't get the news by listening to the bloody WWN," Lily regaled to Remus, as the two made their way back to Gryffindor Tower.

"James is sceptical of a lot of the media. Reckons they don't give the whole story."

"Well, he's not a journalist."

"Well I suppose not, but–"

"Why is he so arrogant?" asked Lily suddenly.

"He's not that arrogant, not really."

"What? Come on, Remus, you can't deny it."

"Prongs will never admit it, but what you call arrogance is a bit of a facade. It's what he wants the world to see, not what he really wants you to see."

"So you're saying he's constantly putting on an act."

"No, not that extreme," he replied. "Most people just don't necessarily see what he really thinks or feels. He doesn't want to show weakness. If you met his father, you'd understand where it comes from," Remus said. "Come to think of it, his mother is the same."

"So it's just a Potter thing?" Lily asked, raising an eyebrow.

Remus was quiet for a moment. Then, he spoke again.

"Do you know what the Sacred Twenty-Eight are?"

"The remaining true pureblood families of Magical Britain," Lily answered.

"Not bad for a Muggleborn," praised Remus. "Did you know it used to be called the Sacred Twenty-Nine?"

"James is a pure-blood in the sense that his direct lineage can be traced back to the Peverells, but his extended family are no longer completely pureblood," he added. "He has a Muggleborn aunt and two halfblood cousins. That reflects on his Noble House. Now, I'm not saying that there's anything wrong with that, because there's not. But to a lot of the other Noble Houses, the Potters losing their 'sacred' status was seen as a betrayal. And such things are not easily forgotten."

"What does this have to do with the fact that Potter is an unbearable arse?"

"Imagine that you're perceived as a family of traitors to pureblood-kind, and you're actively, publicly denouncing Voldemort and his followers, many of whom have ties to those same purebloods."

"They're a target," Lily guessed.

"Exactly. Although, with the possible exception of Dumbledore or the Minister for Magic, they're not just a target, they're the target."

Remus' tone grew ominous.

"My point is that their arrogance hides their fear, Lily. For so long, the Potters have been untouchable. Sure. they weren't part of the club anymore, but they were too rich for most people to care…trust me, you want to be in business with the Potters. But they're not untouchable anymore. Not with Voldemort around. James' uncle was attacked off Diagon Alley only a few weeks ago. It's only a matter of time before something really bad happens to the family."

They both stopped as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"The Potters know that there's a war coming, Lily. And they know not all of them will survive it."


A/N: Thanks for reading, please review!