A/N: Thank you to those of you who left reviews. It's amazing how much they give me an extra push to keep going. I've been looking forward to posting this chapter for literally years. Hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
Disclaimer: I am not Jo Rowling. She owns HP. I do not.
Chapter 36 - 4.2 or "After the Match"
It was the hinge, that night was, around which everything seemed to pivot.
He had known, somewhere in his gut, if not his head, exactly, that he was on borrowed time with the Potters. Luck and circumstance were fickle allies and their treason was foretold by a niggling voice in his ear that sounded rather like Remus and that he had thoroughly ignored for months.
He would not remember much of the match, in the days and weeks and months that followed. Its details were eclipsed by the events that transpired after it, where everything shifted. Perhaps it was the euphoria that only Quidditch could generate, the way the air pulsed with excitement and revelry, but the match itself was blurred, disoriented in his recollections.
Their seats had been in a row near the top, and Sirius had sat between James and Mrs. Potter, who had yelled nearly as loudly as her son throughout. They were situated in a mass of Syrian supporters, most of whom were wearing fake, dark beards in honor of their renowned Seeker Issam Khalil, whose own beard made him instantly recognizable as it trailed along after him in the air like a shadow over his left shoulder. The volume of the crowd was what he would remember the most about the match—the roar of laughter at Royston Idlewind's humiliation when one-hundred-thousand witches and wizards revealed their wands to him; the wailing shouts of the Dissimulators throughout; the thunderous clamor of the Syrian supporters when Khalil emerged from a harrowing dive with the Snitch clasped between his fingers. Sirius thought his ears may never recover.
They were still ringing an hour later as he sat in the Potters' lavish tent with his friends, discussing their plans for the evening with James's parents.
"…and since we won't be visiting with the Blacks after all," James's mother was saying, not noticing the way Sirius shifted ever so slightly in his seat, "we'll spend some time in the Balinis' tent. They're having a bit of a soiree…"
"Yeah," said James, who was draped across an armchair and was lolling his head about in disinterest. He had been so elated and animated by the match that its conclusion seemed to have temporarily drained him of all energy. "You have fun, then."
"Do you boys want to join us? Salvestro mentioned there'd be some other Hogwarts students there, if you'd like to come…"
"Maybe," said James. "We'll see."
"We need to know where you'll be, James," said Mr. Potter. "It's one thing for you lot to be wandering round in the daytime, it's quite another for you to be roaming at night."
At this, James sat up straight and stared at his father with annoyed confusion. He was certainly not used to being given any sort of parameters. "You're joking, right? It's only an hour after the match and you—"
Mr. Potter shook his head. "I'm not. It may not be too late yet but it's dark and there's a lot of, er, merriment about. Either you come with us to the Balini tent or you stay here in ours. Those are your options tonight, I'm afraid."
And so, despite James's affronted indignation at not being allowed free reign by his parents, Sirius found himself an hour later in the Balini family's opulent tent, where several dozen jubilant witches and wizards were already mingling merrily. With the exception of the Balini family, who they had all been greeted by upon entrance, Sirius recognized no one, and for a while, the four boys sat chatting in the corner with one another, attempting to ignore the swell of adults that surrounded them, but as the tent became more and more crowded, the vast number of people in the enclosed space precipitated a rise in the temperature that caused the first prickling of sweat on the back of his neck. After long enough that Peter had started complaining that they should have stayed back in the Potters' tent, James rose and gestured for all of them to follow.
"Come on, then," he said, tilting his head toward the tent's entrance. "Surely my mum and dad won't object to us stepping outside and getting a bit of air."
"You reckon you should tell them?" asked Remus, looking hesitant.
James groaned but shrugged a reluctant assent all the same. "I'll let them know and then meet you out there, then. Maybe I can see if Adin's got any cards in here, and we can sit out back and play Arcana, at least."
It was a relief, then, to step out into the night air, and Sirius took it upon himself to grab one of the glowing lanterns that floated along the path to the entrance and bring it around the back of the tent, where the sounds of the party inside were dampened somewhat, though the celebrations in nearby tents seemed to taunt them. It was cooler now that the sun was long down, though still warmer than the summer air they were used to at home.
"I thought there were supposed to be other people our age here?" Peter whined once they had sat down in the rocky sand, the lantern now hovering above them, illuminating their faces in harsh shadows.
"Are we not entertaining enough for you, Peter?" Sirius asked, his tone joking.
"What? No! Only I thought… I mean, if we're just going to be sitting here playing Arcana, we could've done that in our own tent, couldn't we have?"
"Don't deny it," Sirius chided. The excitement and enjoyment of the day had elicited a lighthearted amusement in him. He was with his friends, and despite the relative letdown of the Balinis' party, he was content. "We bore you, James and Remus and I. You crave more thrills than what we can provide."
"Don't say that," said Peter, looking fretful all of a sudden. Sirius fought back a laugh at how distressed a tiny joke could make him. "I only meant, aren't we better off when it's just the four of us anyhow?"
"Maybe when it's just the three of us," Sirius countered, nodding as if struck by a profound epiphany. "We don't need James at all, I reckon. Maybe we should run off and leave him to the mercy of the grown-ups."
Remus snorted now, and Sirius was both surprised and entertained by the way he played along. "We probably should stop using him for his Invisibility Cloak at any rate."
"And his money," added Sirius. "You can't forget his money."
"Will you stop it?" pleaded Peter. "It's not funny."
But at that moment, a group of people appeared from around the side of the tent, led by James, who frowned down at them. "What's not funny?"
"You," said Sirius, grinning up at the arrival. "We only use you for your money, didn't you know?"
"Oh. All right, then." James nodded, unfazed. "I thought it was for my dashing good looks." He shrugged and inclined his head toward the group behind him. "Balini was being accosted by a group of witches my mum's age, but I found this lot and told them we might be able to save them from bone-crushing boredom."
The group that James had brought was comprised entirely of girls, and though Sirius felt interest stir within him at the sight, he also felt a general dread at the prospect of being expected to entertain a group of eager girls. Ev Linney, who Sirius liked well-enough, smiled at them all and sat down next to Remus, who tensed at once. Behind her came two other Hufflepuffs he thought were called Nancy Robards and Karina Cotswold.
"It's very dark out here," commented Nancy as she sat down as well.
Ev nudged her with a friendly elbow. "You scared of the dark, Nance?"
"Don't be ridiculous. It only seems like there'd be more light with all these tents everywhere…"
Karina, who next to James was the only one still standing, flipped her wand expertly through her fingers and said, "Well there's a way to fix that…"
"I told you," said Nancy, with a kind of fretful exasperation that reminded Sirius of Remus, "we can't do magic. If my parents catch us—"
"And I told you," Karina cut in, "that your parents won't find out, and there's no way the Ministry can tell underage magic with this much magic around. Lumos."
Her wand tip flared to life, illuminating the group more fully, and Sirius for the first time got a good look at Karina Cotswold. She and Ev were both donning Muggle clothes, though her top was made of some sort of shimmery fabric that winked in the dim wandlight and left less to his imagination than anything Ev was wearing. Her eyelids were smudged with something dark and her lips with something red, and when he realized he had been staring he did not look away, for he noticed that she was staring equally at him, a hint of a smile twisting her stained lips.
"Besides," she continued, dragging her gaze back to Nancy, "we're not staying here anyway."
"We're not?" Peter asked, straightening.
"Are you still on about that?" sighed Nancy simultaneously.
"We met a stadium watchwizard last night," Karina told the boys. "A Spaniard. Told us how to get into the stadium after it's closed to the public. There's a spot round the other side of it where no one ever remembers to put up a ward."
"Really?" James asked, looking intrigued. "Why would he tell you about it, then?"
"He was trying to impress Ev," Karina answered easily.
Even in the dim light cast by the wand and the suspended lantern, Ev's embarrassment was immediately evident. "He was not!"
"He was too," said Karina. "And either way, we should go see if he was right."
"Why?" asked Peter. "What's so interesting about the stadium? We were just in there."
Karina seemed to size Peter up before answering. "He said the view at night's incredible. And won't it be interesting to be in that massive stadium when it's quiet and empty?" Her gaze swept back to Sirius. "Besides, it's against the rules, and I thought you lot were always interested in running against the rules?"
His previous apathy at the prospect of entertaining these girls was gone. There was something dangerous about Karina Cotswold. Sirius stood up.
"It's more interesting than sitting out here in the sand," he said.
"I'm in," nodded James, hands in his pockets. "I imagine the stadium'll be torn down in a few days at least, and it's a thing of beauty, isn't it?"
"All right," said Nancy as she and Ev got to their feet and brushed sand off of their clothes. "But let's make it quick enough, eh?"
Remus, of course, was the standard voice of dissent. He stood as well and shifted from foot to foot, uncertain. "But, James…won't your parents…I mean…"
"They think we're out here," James cut in, as casual as ever. "They won't come looking for us. Come on, then."
The girls led the way and within ten minutes, they had escaped the maze of tents and had started down a dark, sandy path toward the far side of the stadium. It was darker now, and quiet, the sounds and lights from the tents fading away behind them as if they were entering a new world entirely. The empty stadium loomed above them on the bluff, but instead of taking the path they had followed earlier to the match, they followed the three Hufflepuffs along the valley between two mountainous dunes, where the sand was looser underfoot and thus more difficult to traverse. Karina had extinguished her wandlight and their eyes adjusted to the light of the speckled stars and the waning moon, which illuminated everything in inky shadows.
"I don't know if this is a good idea," said Remus as the boys slowed their strides to put enough distance between themselves and the three girls. They had begun their ascent up the bluff and it was rockier now, making it slightly easier to find a foothold. "Your parents told us not to go out wandering, James."
"Don't worry so much, Moony," James tutted, waving him off even as he slipped a bit on the rocks. "The Balinis have got bottomless glasses of Elderflower wine in there. My parents won't even know we're gone."
"We should have nicked some," Peter commented idly.
"Well you two are welcome to turn back and go drink Elderflower wine in a tent full of old people," said Sirius. His eyes had barely left the figure of Karina Cotswold since they had begun walking. He particularly liked the way the moon cast her pale shoulders in a silvery light and the way the back of her looked as she climbed the bluff ahead of him. "No way I'm not following that girl wherever she wants to take me."
"Yeah?" James gave a surprised chuckle. "Cotswold, huh?"
"Merlin. How have I never noticed her before?"
"I've noticed her loads of times," offered Peter. "Only she doesn't dress like that at Hogwarts, does she?"
"That's the bleeding truth," sighed Sirius, lamenting the fact.
"But Ev looks good, too, doesn't she?" Peter said lowly. "Blimey, I wish girls at Hogwarts could wear those Muggle clothes."
"Maybe we just need to surround ourselves with more Muggle girls," posed James.
"That's a mite difficult to do at Hogwarts," said Remus, climbing over a rather ragged boulder with surprising deftness.
"Oi! Hurry up you girls!" Ev called from the flat ground above them. The Hufflepuffs had reached the top of the bluff and were clearly waiting for them in the cavernous shadow of the stadium, though they were difficult to see now in the darkness. James huffed in offense, but Sirius took his time the rest of the way to the top, instinct telling him to not look bothered or harried.
When they reached the top, though, the girls had already started walking again. The towering, circular stadium was perched with one side hanging over the sandy crag, and they now followed the girls all the way around the curved outer walls toward the cliff face on the far side.
As they walked, Peter gestured toward the many arched entrances that they passed and asked no one in particular, "Why can't we just go in one of these other entrances?"
In response, James bent over mid-stride, plucked up a rock from the ground, and tossed it easily through one of the indicated archways. They all watched for a breath, and it seemed as if nothing out of the ordinary would happen, but the next second the rock was propelled back toward them, landing with a clatter at James's feet.
"I'm not keen on getting hurled back out toward the cliff, I don't think," said James as they all continued walking once more.
It was only when they reached the edge of the bluff that the girls stopped and looked back at the boys.
"It's here," said Karina, waving a pale hand toward the dark entrance in front of them, the one closest to the cliff. "The Spanish bloke said no one ever bothers putting a ward up on this one."
"Should we throw something at it, to be sure?" asked Nancy, and even in the darkness, Sirius could tell the girl was uncomfortable.
Sirius, though, only chuckled and said, "Live a little, Robards." Then, without a moment's hesitation, ignoring Peter's gasp, he strode forward past them all and through the stone archway. He spun on his heel and grinned once he was through, though he doubted any of them could see it. "Well I didn't get blasted backwards or disintegrate on the spot, so looks like your Spanish friend was right."
James hurried forward next, and as the two led the way into the darkened stadium, he thumped Sirius on the shoulder. "We could have just as easily thrown another—Blimey!"
They had reached the edge of the pitch, and James's mouth had dropped open at the sight before him: a seamless oval of jade grass, as pristine and untouched as it certainly had been before the match; six flaxen hoops spiking through the sky that seemed to gleam from within; and one-hundred-thousand empty stadium seats, every single one visible from their spot on the pitch, still illuminated by floating orbs glowing a deep golden against the night sky.
James gave a low moan as he walked toward the center of the grass, his eyes skyward, his expression pained and his voice cracking with longing when he said, "What I wouldn't do for a broom right now."
It was stunning, to be sure, but Sirius wasn't as taken with it as his best friend, and when James laid down on his back in the middle of the pitch, Sirius didn't feel the need to join him.
"I'm climbing to the top," he declared, suddenly driven by a desire he couldn't quite place.
Peter and Remus had each found a seat in the grass next to James, both looking exhausted from the trek up the bluff. James acknowledged Sirius's statement with a raise of his hand and a nonchalant wave, and Remus nodded his agreement. "We'll be along in a bit."
The girls were still mingling near the archway they had entered through, gazing around in wonder, and Sirius spared them only a look before beginning the long ascent up the stadium steps. He had not noticed it earlier in the commotion before the match, but each level of stairs that he ascended added some new adornment as he got higher and higher. The rough concrete step turned to polished wood then to plush purple carpeting, and by the time he reached the top—only slightly out of breath and pinching the sharp crick in his side, there were thick velvet ropes draping the banisters. He looked around. Below him, James, Remus, and Peter remained prone in the grass at the center of the pitch. The three Hufflepuffs were climbing a staircase caddy-corner from him, so small at the distance they might have been ants crawling up the side of a building. Turning, he walked through one of the little archways that he assumed led from the stairs toward the toilets, which were settled underneath the stands.
He was wrong. The level he was on, being the highest and most exclusive in the stadium, had a walkway in the underbelly of the stands that seemed to circle the stadium. He followed it lazily, and just when it had been long enough that he was about to find the nearest staircase and rejoin his friends on the pitch, the right side of the walkway opened up into a dazzling view of the tent city below him. He had found the edge of the bluff. The girls' watchwizard friend had been right: the view was worth the hike. The desert sprawled out before his eyes, the festive lights from the revelry below him giving way to the shadowy dunes and then fading into a dark abyss, where the downy black of night allowed for no distinction between the horizon and the star-freckled sky.
A three-tiered hand railing bordered the walkway, and Sirius draped his arms over the bottom of it as he sat down, allowing his legs to dangle off the edge as he simply stared. He felt something akin to his fondness for the ledge above the boys' window in Gryffindor Tower: a view of infinite possibilities stretching before him. Lightness and the type of unobstructed breath that he had never once experienced in London. Freedom.
Thoughts of his friends and the Hufflepuff girls and the Quidditch match drifted away as he sat, chin propped comfortably on his forearms. So enraptured was he that he did not hear or notice her at all until she had pulled herself into position next to him.
"Worth the climb?" Karina asked, her tone casual.
Sirius looked briefly at her before turning back. The momentary spell he had been under—the freedom, the longing, the silence—had broken with her arrival.
"It's not bad," he answered, smothering his eagerness and wonderment. "I've seen better."
She shrugged at this and he wondered if she, too, felt an instinctive urge to play it cool. It was dark enough that he could see her movements but not her expressions clearly. When she leaned backward to prop herself up on her elbows, he allowed himself a covert glance at her legs, which hung next to his, her skin pale enough that it shone pearly in the starlight. He dragged his eyes away with the fleeting thought that her new reclined pose might have been some kind of unspoken welcoming of his gaze.
"I told them I'd come find you," she said. "Nancy decided she didn't like the heights so much, but we ran into James and them about halfway down and they convinced her to go explore the top boxes."
The proximity of her was causing his thoughts to move sluggishly, and he had to steady himself and look back out at the vista in front of him before he responded. "The top boxes aren't that great."
"Hm. I wouldn't know."
"It's better being outside. You aren't as separate from the action on the pitch."
She said nothing to this for a moment, and in the beat of silence his thoughts wandered to her intentions, to why she had come to find him all by herself, to the idea that James had distracted the others on purpose. Her eventual response of, "I guess. I've never cared much about Quidditch," forced him to wrench his thoughts back to the conversation at hand.
"You're here aren't you?"
"Only Nancy's family invited me and Ev to come along and there was no reason to say no. It was a few days away from the Leighs' flat at least."
He nodded, understanding the sentiment. "I'd heard you were staying with them this summer."
A long enough silence followed this statement that he turned to look back at her. She was smiling at him, her teeth gleaming in the modest darkness and as if spurred along by something, she sat back up next to him, draping her bare arms along the railing beside his.
"I'd never been to Corrington before this summer," she told him. "Considering how close it is to London, it's got to be the most boring place in history."
"And that's where Gin and her mum live, is it?" he asked, wondering why he had never thought to ask Gin before.
There was a weight to the pause before she answered. "Yeah. In a flat above their shop. It's a bit tight for four people."
Perhaps he should have asked about her, about her father, about her feelings regarding her summer accommodations, but his thoughts were on Gin and the memory of her in the Hogwarts kitchens, poking at a plate of toffee bars, and so he asked, "How is she? Gin, I mean?"
For some reason, Karina laughed at this. Sirius stared at her profile. His fingers itched to touch her. When she turned her head to look at him straight on, he gathered his nerve. She was so close to him, and he knew, instinctively, primally, that she would not pull away if he kissed her…
"She told me about you two, you know." His moment of near-daring disappeared at her words and Sirius looked around unthinkingly to see if anyone unworthy might overhear, and Karina laughed again. "Don't worry. I told her I wouldn't tell anyone, and I won't. I'm not one to snitch on others' dirty little secrets. Besides—" She paused and gave a hiccup of a laugh. "It's not that dirty, is it? I mean, she said all you two did was snog a few times."
"Is that right?" Sirius said, attempting and failing to keep his thoughts away from Gin, from their stolen moments together, feverish lips and wandering hands. He didn't know how girls' minds worked, how he was supposed to respond to someone like Karina Cotswold. The nonchalance with which she had said all that was disorienting. "Seems unlike her to tell you all that."
"I thought so too," she said. "I mean we've been sleeping in the same room for the last six weeks, and that's about the most I've gotten out of her. Not one for divulging much, is she? I reckon she was trying to impress me or something."
Sirius stared. "Impress you? How's that?"
"I mean…" Karina looked away now, and he could see the gleam of her top teeth biting her bottom lip as if embarrassed she had said too much. The coyness seemed an out-of-character fabrication. "You're Sirius Black, aren't you?"
"Seems so."
But now she looked at him straight on, all hesitance set aside. "You're…impressive." He said nothing in response, again not knowing what to say, but feeling a sort of reignited energy in having somehow impressed this girl he barely knew. "Anyway, she's doing fine. She's kept herself busy with the Muggle boys, at least. There's not much else to do in Corrington, I'm afraid."
"Muggle boys?" Sirius repeated.
"Mmhmm. An older chap. Sixteen or seventeen, I'd guess."
"Why are you telling me this?"
Karina's eyes flared wide, as if shocked by a question with such an obvious answer. "You asked how she was, didn't you?"
It was as if the conversation were all a game she was playing, and he hadn't realized he was also a participant until now. In an effort to buy himself some time to regain his footing, he reached in his pocket for the packet of cigarettes and Muggle lighter that had been stowed there since that morning. He could feel her eyes on him as he moved to light the cigarette between his lips, his fingers jumping with adrenaline borne solely from the conversation, from her nearness.
"What?" he asked once he had taken the first drag and re-pocketed the lighter. Karina was still watching him as if expecting something from him, as if he had missed a cue entirely. "Did you want a fag?"
"That's all right." She smiled at him before reaching over and plucking the cigarette from between his lips with nimble fingers. "We can share."
There was something feral about her, he thought. He had never watched a girl smoke a cigarette before, not like this. She was well-versed in the motions. When she inhaled, the light from the ember glowed bright enough that he could see her lips closed around the cigarette, dark red slashes around white, and he decided then and there that he wanted to play this game with her, to find out where she would lead him, if only for the moment at hand.
"She really told you all we did was snog?" he asked boldly as he took the cigarette back from her.
"Mmhmm." She paused, as if thinking about it. "She's not only snogging those Muggles, that's for certain. Though that's what boys like, isn't it?"
"What's that?"
Another stolen drag before, "Girls like Gin, who look like good girls to the rest of the world but who aren't actually good girls."
"I reckon you've got a handle on what it is we like," Sirius said, his mouth catching up to his nerve, his eyes purposefully lingering on her exposed skin before resettling on her lips, curved against the cigarette. "And I don't take you as a good girl."
"Well you're a clever bloke, I guess then." Without warning, she flicked the cigarette out over the railing, the little white sprig disappearing into the darkness below them with enviable grace. Sirius did not think to mourn its loss—its life had only just begun, after all—but took the gesture for the invitation he was sure it was.
His lips were on hers now, and her hands were on him, and they had the sense to move away from the edge and into the shadows under the stands. How little effort it had taken, to get her to kiss him like this, and how invigorating that realization was. This girl had barely been in his periphery before that night and now she had her mouth on his neck, this mercurial, beautiful girl.
And there was something popping in his veins now, something visceral and kinetic. Adrenaline and lust and rebellion and the fizz of his skin under her fingers and the slickness of her tongue against his and the wandering grains of sand between his palm and her stomach. Freedom.
They eventually reunited with their friends in one of the top boxes that had been occupied by the Syrian ministry during the match. Made entirely of glass, the box looked on one side upon the majestic stadium, and on the other out over the expansive desert view that Sirius and Karina had been admiring themselves.
"There you are," said Ev upon their entrance.
"Where've you been?" asked Nancy. Her tone was more accusatory than Ev's, and Sirius longed to tell her that he had just been below the stands with his hands underneath the clothes of the girl next to him, but Karina answered at once.
"Got lost, didn't we?" The lie was uttered with such refined fluidity that for a fraction of a moment, even Sirius believed her.
Nancy frowned and raised a skeptical eyebrow. "In the Quidditch stadium?"
"It's a big stadium," shrugged Karina, the model of nonchalance, and Sirius used the opportunity to share a significant look with James. "And we ended up on the other side, looking for you in Madagascar's top box."
Nancy looked as if she was going to question this, but James didn't allow her to. "Ev here," he said cheerfully, inclining his head toward where Ev stood, grinning back at him, "has issued us a challenge, Sirius."
"Oh?"
"I did not, James," laughed Ev, but James ignored her.
"She supposes that nobody except Hufflepuffs has ever seen—or will ever see—the inside of the Hufflepuff common room…"
"I don't suppose that! That's what they tell the firsties when they first take you there!"
"…and the three of us—" He gestured at himself, Remus and Peter. "—all agree that this kind of rubbishy talk constitutes a challenge for us to prove her wrong."
Sirius nodded, his expression serious. "I don't reckon that's a challenge, Ev. I reckon that's an invitation."
Ev, though, just laughed and showed her palms. "Just don't tell the rest of my house it's my fault when you lot sneak in and plug Droobles in all of the keyholes or something."
While everyone else was joking, however, Remus had been gazing out over the Quidditch pitch, and he now spoke quietly enough that nobody acknowledged him. "Erm, guys?"
"Why is it that everyone thinks we only have nefarious reasons for sneaking into dormitories?" continued James, unaware of Remus's distress. "As if we don't nip in and tidy up the Slytherin common room from time to time."
"Sometimes we sneak into Ravenclaw Tower just to straighten their books," added Sirius thoughtfully.
"Guys?" said Remus again, louder this time.
"We've refilled the Slytherins' shampoo bottles plenty of times," James went on. The girls were laughing now, even Nancy. "Only they never can seem to take the hint…"
"Guys!" Remus shouted now, pointing down at the grassy pitch below him. The laughter faded as they all moved over to look down at Remus's indication. The previously dark, still pitch now had three wandlights moving upon it toward the staircases, and even at the great distance, the curved hats of the Spanish watchwizards were distinguishable.
"Er…" said Sirius. "Well…"
"Oh bugger bugger bugger," said Peter, his voice quite a bit higher than usual.
"What do we do?" whispered Nancy, petrified.
James, though, just grinned at them all. "We'd better run."
"What?"
"Run!"
They heeded his advice, and though at first it was more of a fast-paced creep, eventually the group made it to the nearest staircase and had no recourse but to move as fast as their legs would carry them down the steps and toward the pitch. The watchwizards' realization of their presence was comically delayed, and by the time they became aware of the seven trespassers in their stadium, the group had already made it halfway across the grass and back toward the archway they had entered through. Sirius didn't know what would happen to them if they were caught, though he didn't suppose the Spanish government would have a particularly strong sentencing for a few kids wandering around a closed Quidditch stadium, and he allowed himself to laugh as they pushed each other through the stone archway and back outside to the outer bluff. The path they had taken on the climb up seemed darker now, and the girls shrieked and clung to each other as they all hurried back down toward the tent city, laughter and sweat and lighthearted defiance propelling them all forward, even as they realized that no one was pursuing them any longer.
Once securely entrenched again in the maze of tents, they slowed to a stop to gather themselves. Peter, in particular, was gasping for air. From the nearby tents, music and revelry blared, and they all had to move aside as a group of teetering wizards pushed past, waving the Syrian flag above their heads and merrily singing a victory song.
"We're going back to my parents' tent," Nancy told them, once the noise of the passing group had faded somewhat.
"Do you want to come with us, then?" Karina asked.
It was a tempting offer, but in the relative light shining from the nearby tents, Sirius had noticed how pale Remus had become. He had seen the sagging shoulders and shadowed eyes on numerous occasions and he knew that his friend, only a handful of days removed from a vicious transformation, was near the point of over-exertion.
"Nah," Sirius said easily. "We're heading back ourselves."
"Yeah," added James, also noticing Remus's expression. "We're knackered. Thanks for letting us in on your fun, though. We'd still be rotting away behind the Balinis' tent otherwise."
Sirius grinned and waved as the four boys started walking away. "And thanks for the invitation into your common room!"
"Why have we never been in the Hufflepuff common room before?" Peter asked lightly once they were out of earshot of the girls and walking back in the direction of the Balinis' tent.
"We know where the entrance is," said James, flipping a casual arm around Remus's shoulder as he walked. "Down by the kitchens behind those barrels, remember? We followed Stebbins and Milligan there after snooping on the Hufflepuffs' Quidditch practice that once."
"Why didn't you go in, then?" posed Remus.
"Couldn't be arsed to," Sirius said. "I mean it's the Puffs, isn't it? Thought it'd be a right bore in there."
"Nothing boring about those girls, though." James shook his head and grinned before ruffling Remus's hair. "Even that Nancy was warming up to Remus here before you and Cotswold came back, Sirius."
"Did you snog her, Sirius?" Peter asked as Remus shoved James off of him.
Sirius could not fight the smirk that pulled at his lips. "You didn't think we actually got lost, did you?"
Peter shook his head and moved quickly to the side as to not get flattened by another jovial troupe of Syrian supporters. Remus took the distraction to ask, "Are we going back to our tent, then?"
"Sure," shrugged James. "Only we better pop into the Balinis' first and let my parents know. They still think we're sitting out back, after all."
Peter, though, could not be swayed. He looked at Sirius with something akin to wonderment. "Did she let you…you know…" He gestured vaguely at the front of his own shirt, the collar of which was darkened with sweat.
Feeling rather pleased at all he had gotten away with that night, Sirius laughed and said, "You really want all the gooey details, Petey?"
"Please nothing gooey," moaned Remus, the flush creeping up his pale skin like a sunburn in the darkness.
They all laughed at this, and Sirius shrugged good-naturedly. "I'll tell you later, Peter. Don't want to offend Miss Lupin here's ears."
Despite his obvious exhaustion and embarrassment, Remus had the energy to chuckle and throw a rude hand gesture toward Sirius.
"Remus!" gasped James. "What would your mother say if she saw you conduct yourself so very uncouthly?"
"Probably that I'm no longer allowed to spend time with you heathens," answered Remus, his tone dry.
Their laughter and ribbing carried them back to the lanterned pathway that led to the Balinis' tent, which several people were now hurriedly exiting, pushing past the boys as if desperate to put distance between it and themselves.
"Party must be nearing its end," mused James, stepping aside to avoid getting trampled by a harried-looking couple in magenta robes.
But when they entered the tent, the jovial chatter and ebullience from the hour before had disappeared, replaced by taut whispers and guarded glances. The music from a gramophone in the corner still played, buoyant and madcap, but it was out of place in what had become a tense, rigid atmosphere. It was not difficult to discern the cause of the newfound strain; indeed, despite the forced conversations among the remaining party-goers, those left in the tent seemed to be giving a wide, obvious berth to a group of four people near the back.
Sirius felt the bottom drop out of his stomach.
Mr. and Mrs. Potter were speaking rigidly to a thin, dark-haired man and a woman whom Sirius had not seen in three years, but whose pale skin and hooded eyes were unmistakable even from across the tent: his cousin, Bellatrix Black.
"Oh fuck," Sirius breathed.
James looked at him sharply. "What is it?"
Sirius ignored the question, his eyes never leaving the sight in front of him as he told his friends from the corner of his mouth, "Stay here."
Four, five, six strides and he was across the tent, close enough to hear the stiffness in Mr. Potter's voice as he said, "I don't care what you think you know about us, we aren't interested. Tell that to whomever you'd like."
"We've heard otherwise, in our circles," replied Bellatrix, with an air of superior dismissiveness. "And that's not the answer we are looking for, Master Potter."
Sirius had reached them now, and through the swirl of panic within him, he found himself trying to concentrate solely on how to get Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange away from Mr. and Mrs. Potter.
"Bellatrix," he said, the word seeming to echo in his own head.
She turned toward him, her cold eyes surveying him as if his sudden presence had been entirely expected, as if he had been standing there all along.
He was taller than her, now. Any brief surprise he might have felt at this realization was immediately drowned by a torrent of childhood memories of the woman in front of him. He is seven and she is espousing a vitriolic diatribe at the audacity of Dumbledore choosing a half-blood in her year as prefect… Eight and she is towering over him and Regulus in the alley behind Number Twelve, wand pointed at a cat as it convulsed in pain. "It's a filthy thing, Sirius," she had told him. "Rummaging in bins for a bite. It must be taught a lesson…" Eleven, precious unworn wand in his hand, blood on his sleeve, and she is ranting about how he has disgraced his family, how he is dirty, now… It had been the worst night of his life, and the last time he had seen her.
He wrenched his thoughts back to the present. She was wearing black robes of spun silk, which were cinched tightly around her trim waist, and surely far too warm and elegant for an evening in the Spanish desert. Her dark hair was tied up in an elaborate knot at the back of her head, and as her blood red lips curled upward into a derisive smile, Sirius thought swiftly of Karina Cotswold and then pushed the thought away at once, nausea coiling in his gut at the association.
"Sirius." Her smile was calculated, sneering. "You've grown."
"That'll happen in three years. What are you doing here?"
She ignored his question entirely and reached out to pluck at the collar of his shirt, pinching it between her thumb and forefinger as if it were a small animal she was contemplating smashing underfoot. He pulled out of her reach. Mr. and Mrs. Potter were watching them steadily and Sirius could sense James's presence behind him. This did not particularly surprise him—James was not one to stay behind even when ordered to do so.
"I can't say I appreciate your choice of attire." Bellatrix's voice was venomous, the trace of a sneer gone from her lips as she took in his clothing. "Muggle clothes. What would your mother say?"
"What are you doing here, Bellatrix?" Sirius repeated, attempting to keep his voice steady.
"It's a party, Cousin." She waved a jeweled hand toward the rest of the tent. "We've come to socialize."
Sirius chanced a glance around them; the buffer of empty space encircling them seemed to have grown, and the party-goers that remained in the tent continued to throw concerned, surreptitious looks their way.
"And you," Bellatrix continued, now spotting James, "must be the young Mister Potter."
"That's right." James moved in line with Sirius, their shoulders touching. "James."
Rodolphus Lestrange, whom Sirius had met on several occasions and whose entire presence had been dwarfed by that of his companion, now stepped forward to extend a hand to James.
"Rodolphus Lestrange," he pronounced, his spidery palm hovering between them.
James cocked his head at the offered hand and Sirius knew he was thinking fast, his whirring mind trying to determine the best way to get out of this situation as unscathed as possible. A beat, and James's eyes flashed for the briefest second toward his father before he accepted the handshake.
"James Potter," he said, though his tone was strained and unwelcoming.
"We've heard about you, James," said Bellatrix.
James exchanged the quickest of glances with Sirius before raising an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
"Of course. The only son of such notoriously private purebloods." Bellatrix turned her jaw toward where Mr. and Mrs. Potter stood, though her eyes did not leave James's face. "We know a lot about you, James Potter."
This seemed to be enough for James's parents, and Mrs. Potter stepped forward to grip James's shoulder, as though looking to move him away from the situation.
"I don't know what you think you've heard—" began Mr. Potter, but Bellatrix cut him off by raising a single, dismissive index finger.
"He's magically gifted, a natural flyer, knows his way out of a sticky situation…" She paused for a moment as though to size him up and then her eyes snapped to Mrs. Potter's face to deliver the point she had been moving toward for the entire exchange. "…And he is rightfully sympathetic to our cause."
His panicked heartbeat pulsing in his ears, Sirius stepped forward in front of James and growled, "Get out of here, Bella."
At the same moment, though, Mr. Potter spoke. "What are you talking about? No one here is sympathetic to your cause, as I told you a few minutes ago."
Bellatrix appeared entirely unconcerned with this. She blinked heavily at Mr. Potter. "Perhaps you don't know your son as well as you think you do, then, Master Potter." She inclined her head as though admitting an error before the cold smile was back in place and her gaze returned to Sirius. "Or perhaps someone's been passing along faulty information about his friends to his mother." At this, she once again raised her index finger and ran the gleaming, crimson fingernail along Sirius's jaw like a razor blade.
Sirius slapped her hand away with enough force that Rodolphus jerked his own hand toward his wand as if expecting a duel, though Sirius had already stepped backward instinctively away from his cousin. "Shut up, Bellatrix."
This only seemed to excite her. "You've been a bad boy, Sirius," she cooed, dark eyes glittering. "You've been telling stories to the wrong people."
"Right." Mr. Potter's hand was suddenly on Sirius's elbow, guiding him backward, and Sirius could hardly hear the man's words over the blood rushing through his ears. "Well no matter who has been saying what, or no matter what poor information you've received, you have our answer. We're not interested, none of us. Now good day to you, Miss Black, and you as well, Mr. Lestrange."
The grip on his elbow was tight, though not painful, and Sirius found himself being led by it through the opulent tent toward the entrance. They brushed past the Balini sisters watching them with wide eyes, and though they were close enough that Sirius could reach out and touch either of them, they—like the Hufflepuff girls and the time he had spent in the stadium with Karina Cotswold—felt a great distance away. They reached Peter and Remus, both looking fretful, and Mr. Potter indicated for both to follow them into the night.
The desert seemed to have grown darker in the brief time he had been inside, as if all the many tents surrounding them had been privy to his despair and had shuttered for the night, their inhabitants quietly retreating to their beds out of duty or respect or sympathetic mortification. Sirius felt as though there were a lead stopper in his throat. Mr. Potter's hand still held his elbow.
"Dad!" It was James, who had pulled free from his mother's clutches and now hurried alongside them, stumbling in his haste over the rocky sand. "Dad, I—"
"Not now, James." Mr. Potter walked swiftly, his shoulders rigid with alertness.
"But—"
"James." It was his mother, now, only a step behind them, her voice kind and commanding, her son's name ringing with an air of finality that the discussion, for the moment, was closed.
James looked back at her, seemed to understand that he should not fight this right then, and said nothing else. His father appeared to realize at the sound of his wife's voice that he was still holding Sirius's elbow, and he released it at once, reaching back to take Mrs. Potter's hand in his own. Sirius watched them, desperation nearly suffocating him. Neither of the couple looked at him as they walked.
By the time they arrived back at the Potters' tent, Sirius felt as if his insides had crumpled in on themselves. The Potters had welcomed him, had made him feel wanted and whole, had treated him as part of their family and he had deceived and slandered them for his own selfish benefit. The anticipation of their reaction was perhaps more agonizing than the guilt and shame combined. The six of them stood within the tent for an eternal moment, James's parents seeming to communicate with one another silently, before Mrs. Potter spoke.
"Remus, Peter—why don't you boys head up to your beds?"
Remus, wide eyes bouncing from Sirius to James, nodded obediently. Peter, though, shifted and seemed to gather himself before asking, "But—I mean, what's going on? Who were those people…?"
If Sirius had had the energy to worry about Peter at the moment, he may have throttled him for his stupidity. As it was, though, he could barely manage even a glare toward where Peter stood fumbling with his fingers.
"You'll be filled in soon enough, I'd wager," said Mrs. Potter. "Go on upstairs, now, boys. We need a word with James and Sirius and then they'll be along too."
Sirius took this as a good sign. They would not be expelling him from their tent that night, at least.
No one spoke again until Remus and Peter had ascended the spiraling iron staircase and the soles of their trainers had disappeared from view. Certainly they would be able to hear all that was to be said in the makeshift sitting room—the tent was not overly large, after all—but Sirius knew that Mrs. Potter sending them away was a matter of principal. If she and her husband were about to admonish him and all that he had done recently, they at least had the probity to minimize his humiliation by not allowing an audience.
"Dad," James started again. "What are you—"
Mr. Potter, though, held up a hand to once again silence his son. "I need to know," he said slowly and calmly to Sirius, "exactly what has been said about James and our family to your mother, to your cousin, or to anyone else who has asked."
Sirius met the older man's gaze, a distant memory of sitting at the Potter kitchen table emerging from nowhere to smother him. "You're a funny kid, Sirius," he had said. "And you're a good friend to James. You're always welcome here, I want you to know."
"My mother started asking about him a year or so ago." Sirius swallowed down the waver in his voice. He had no option but to be honest. "I didn't—I didn't tell her much, I swear. I knew if she found out that you didn't hate Muggles like she does, that she'd never let me visit you again."
"So that's what you told her? That we hate Muggles, is that it?"
"No!" Sirius said, a desperate need to clarify, to explain, to come clean at last. "No, I didn't say anything like that about you and Mrs. Potter, honest. I'd appease her with stupid stuff, like how you used to develop potions, and how Mrs. Potter had been a Healer, and how you've got two house elves instead of one. But she kept asking about James and—"
He broke off now at the most incriminating bit, another unbidden memory flooding him, of his very first visit to the Potter house, of the suspicion and distrust, of overhearing Mr. Potter speaking to James on Christmas Eve: "His family is notorious for dark wizards, James, and it's bound to have rubbed off on him. I don't know how close you should get to Sirius Black."
James, though, seemed to have no such hesitance and he stepped forward now, chin in the air as he faced his father. "I told him to do it, Dad."
It was his mother who replied, though. "Told him to do what, Darling?"
"To tell his nutter parents that I care about all of that pureblood rubbish. If it got him out of his house over breaks, why does it matter what they think of me?"
"Because it's bigger than that, James." Mr. Potter was now looking between them both with terrible, gut-wrenching disappointment on his face. "This isn't a game! People are disappearing and dying right now based on what they believe! How could you let anyone think such horrible things of you?"
"But how should we have known that?" James was shouting now. "You didn't tell us anything about all that going on until Stuart turned up half-dead in our sitting room!"
"I would hope, son, that no matter what you know or don't know, you'd take more pride in your name and what you stand for."
Something like shame flashed across James's face, but he remained resolutely staring at his father. "And I would hope, Dad, that you'd understand we were only trying to keep Sirius from having absolute shit holidays locked up in his parents' house like a prisoner."
"James!" Mrs. Potter gasped. "Don't speak to your father that way!"
"No, it's all right." Mr. Potter nodded patiently and then with a sigh, sat down on the edge of a nearby armchair. He looked back up at Sirius, weary. "Did you tell them anything else, Sirius?"
Sirius wracked his brain, but aside from various tidbits about the Potters' lifestyle meant to hold his mother off, the most damning conversation had been one he had shared with Regulus in November.
"I told my brother once that James and I are only friends because we both don't—" He cut off, mortified.
"Don't what, Sirius?" asked Mrs. Potter. Her tone was so kind that Sirius couldn't bear to look at her when he continued.
"That we don't like being around Muggle-borns all the time. Regulus knew it's not true, but he passed it along to my mother anyway." Sudden, spiking desperation. "It's not true! I mean, I know you know it's not true about James, but it isn't about me either! I haven't got a thing against Muggles or Muggle-borns! I'm not like that, I—"
"We know," Mr. Potter cut in, standing up again as if he had regained his energy. "We know you're not like that, Sirius, and we certainly know James isn't like that, which is why this is all the more upsetting. Nothing, nothing, should have the power to sway you from your beliefs, boys. Not threats or fear, not holiday plans—"
But Sirius couldn't bear the pressure building in his chest. He had to say it. "I'm sorry." He looked at all three of them now, blanketing his pride underneath his guilt. "I'm sorry I dragged James into all this, I—" He broke off, not knowing how else to say it. The lead weight in his throat had swelled painfully.
"Is there anything else either of you needs to tell us?" Mrs. Potter asked, her gaze traveling between the two of them, her tone tinged with knowing.
Sirius met James's glance for the briefest of seconds. There was, of course, more to tell them, but he did not even bother to think through his options. Whether they could get away with it or not failed to be considered, and he knew James would be behind him no matter what he chose to reveal.
"The letter," he started. "The letter from, er, from last night. We—"
Crack! The sound snapped through the air like cannon fire from just outside the tent entrance. From the loft above them, a muffled thump and oath registered and Sirius assumed Peter had fallen out of his cot in surprise. At once, Mr. Potter drew his wand and strode forward, motioning for the three of them to stay put.
The moment that passed while Mr. Potter spoke to someone from the tent entrance might have contained a lifetime, and when he returned a second later with Sirius's parents behind him, Sirius knew, knew without a shred of doubt, that his time with the Potter family was over. There would be no more lazy summer days, no more cozy Christmas meals, no more late night crosswords with Mr. Potter or gentle shoulder squeezes from Mrs. Potter. He would be trapped at Grimmauld Place until he turned seventeen, and the barely contained rage on his mother's face and the ice in his father's eyes told him all he needed to know about what his time spent there would entail.
Mrs. Potter had stepped forward to offer some sort of greeting at the intrusion, but Sirius's mother strode around her outstretched hand toward her eldest son.
"You must be Mrs. Bl—"
Smack. His mother's palm cracked across his cheek, the sound of it splitting through the tent to the thorough shock of everyone except Sirius, who had learned long ago never to be shocked by the shapes of his mother's fury. He blinked rapidly against the stinging pain but stood his ground, jaw tight and spine straight, even as everyone around him made clear their surprise.
"—Mrs. Black!" finished Mrs. Potter, her original politeness giving way to outrage.
"Oi!" James shouted, stepping toward the pair even as his own mother pulled him back.
Mr. Potter also moved toward Sirius but then stopped, an alarmed expression on his face. "Now, really, Madam, I must insist…"
But Sirius's mother paid no attention to any of them. Her wrathful gaze was fixed on Sirius, her eyes raking over his attire.
"Again, again, nothing but shame you've brought upon us," she snarled at him. "How dare you spread lies to your mother? How dare you manipulate your brother into your deceits? How dare you traipse about in these clothes like a common, filthy Mudwallower—"
Her anger seemed to crescendo at the notion of his clothing, and she once again raised a hand with which to strike him, but even as all three of the Potters again uttered their objection, Sirius's father's voice cut across them all.
"Walburga," he said, voice sharp and steely. "Enough."
Sirius's mother lowered her hand at once and took a blessed step away from him, seeming to remember herself and regain a bit of her composure. Nevertheless, once collected, she turned then to Mr. and Mrs. Potter, contempt on her face.
"We entrust our son to you time after time, only to discover that you allow him to dress like a boorish, muck-dwelling Muggle?" She took in all of their attire, her eyes lingering on James who was still standing with his mother's protective hand on his arm. "Have none of you any pride? Have none of you any decency?"
"We have a very different idea of what determines decency, Mrs. Black," replied Mrs. Potter, her normally warm eyes distressed, but an authoritarian strength to her voice that Sirius had never heard before.
"Evidently," spat Mrs. Black. She threw her shoulders back and turned now to her son. "Sirius, get your things. We're leaving."
He had known it was coming, of course, but it didn't make the reality of it any easier to absorb. Humiliation throbbed through him, but instead of succumbing to it, he allowed his anger to cast a hardened shell around him.
"I'd rather not," he snapped at her, crossing his arms in stubbornness.
His mother's eyes bulged and for a second he thought she would hit him again, but she resisted. "I don't care in the least what you would rather or rather not do, you insubordinate ingrate," she hissed at him. "Now get your things."
"No," said Sirius, knowing that he had no options but unwilling to simply give in to her rage.
But his father inserted himself now, the wand that was holstered in his belt looming threateningly against Sirius's gaze. "Your mother gave you an order. You'd be wise to follow it."
He was about to tell both of his parents to sod off, consequences be damned, when Mr. Potter spoke.
"Sirius," he said, and Sirius could see the pain in the old man's expression, as though the words he said next were physically hurting him. "You're going to have to go with your parents, if that's what they wish."
"But—"
"Now," snarled his father.
Sirius sagged. He could not bear to look at any of them, so he stared at his feet as he moved to climb the iron spiral staircase that rose into the loft where his bag had been tossed earlier in the day. Remus and Peter's horrified expressions met him as he pulled himself up, and when it looked like Remus was about to say something, Sirius shook his head to hush him and moved swiftly to where they were gathered together on one of the cots.
"My parents will send the house elf to get my trunk from James's," Sirius whispered to them as quickly and quietly as he could. "Tell James to take my mirror, to keep it safe. And the Duplicator. They'll confiscate it all, I'm certain of it."
The necessary information relayed, Sirius now moved to his own bag and flipped it open, rummaging inside until his fingers closed, at the very bottom of it, around a familiar piece of thin wood. He pulled the fake wand out, inspecting it briefly to ensure his Transfigurations to it had held. It was a passable enough imitation of his own and, at the very least, it was worth a try, so he slid it into his left pocket, his real wand in his right.
"Sirius," breathed Remus as Sirius now shouldered his bag. "Are you going to be—"
"I'll be fine," Sirius interrupted, not willing at the moment to consider whether or not this was a lie. "If I can keep my wand from them, I can unlock my window at night, so owl me only in the night, okay? And don't forget to tell James about the mirror."
"But—"
"I've got to go." He could not stand it, just then, the alarm on their faces. "Remember to tell James."
The three Potters had moved all together in the minute he had been gone, and now stood across the little sitting room from his parents.
"…call yourselves purebloods," his mother was saying, scorn crackling in her voice. "But we should have known a family of Gryffindors, even one as quiet as yours, would be nothing but blood traitors…"
"I'll bid you stop insulting my family and take your leave from our tent, Mrs. Black," said Mr. Potter curtly.
"And no manners to boot," snapped Mrs. Black, evidently unable to see the irony in the statement. "Though that was apparent from yesterday's letter."
Sirius hadn't thought the situation could get much worse, but that was before Mrs. Potter cocked her head and asked, "Yesterday's letter?"
"Reneging on your commitment to meet with us tonight. The height of rudeness, I'd say, and all so you could attend one of Salvestro Balini's ridiculous parties…"
"We—" Mrs. Potter paused, her furrowed brow lightening as she looked from James to Sirius with apparent realization. Then she turned back to Mrs. Black and inclined her head ever so slightly. "I had over-committed our schedule and I apologize, though if I had known that meeting you and your husband would consist of a barrage of insults, I certainly would never have accepted your invitation in the first place, Mrs. Black."
The lie was so seamlessly reminiscent of her son that Sirius felt the preposterous urge to laugh, or perhaps to dive into the woman's arms in gratitude. Why she would have felt the need to protect him, after all he had done, was beyond his understanding.
"Come, Sirius," said his mother, chin in the air. "And say goodbye. You won't be staying with them again."
"Goodbye," he said, though what he meant to say, what he wanted to say was, I'm sorry. He couldn't, though, not again, not with his parents standing right there, not when his humiliation had burned a hole in his gut already.
"Sirius…" began James, but he seemed to be at a loss for words, his eyes desperate, and his father continued in his stead.
"You're always welcome," said Mr. Potter, and the words made him feel as if he might crumple in front of them all. "If your parents change their minds."
"We won't," said his mother coldly.
Mr. Potter nodded toward them, looking pained, and Sirius could not look at any of them anymore, could not bear it, and when they exited the tent and his father took a vice grip of his arm and then turned on the spot, he welcomed the sensation of being pulled into nothingness, if only for a second.
James stood frozen, staring in shock at where his best friend had just been whisked away by his sadistic parents, until his senses caught up to him and he turned toward his father, outraged.
"How could you?" he shouted. "How could you just let them take him like that?"
"James, calm down—"
"You saw! You saw what they're like—how they treat him—and you just handed him over anyway!"
"We had no other choice—"
"That's bollocks! You could have stopped them. You could have told them he was staying with us for the rest of the summer. You could have…"
It was his mother's voice that calmed him, if only slightly. "He is their son, James. And he's fourteen years old. They have every right to come and take him home."
James turned away from them now, knowing that they were right but wanting to continue his raging nonetheless. Powerlessness gnawed at him. He had expected his parents to do more—to right the obvious wrongs in front of them all—but they too had simply stood by, powerless.
"James…" started his father after a moment, hesitant.
He turned back toward them now, the terrible thought boring into him that this was somehow his fault, that his decisions had brought them to this point, that his parents would have done more if only they hadn't first been angry…
"Did you let them take him because of what we did? Because you're angry we misled his mum and said we cared about all the pureblood rubbish?"
His father heaved a great sigh and shook his head. "No. No, that's not why we let them take him. We let them because they're his parents, and he's their son, and there was really nothing else we could do in that situation."
James allowed them a nod, the fight seeping out of him. "Fine." The defeated, haunted look on Sirius's face was scorched into his brain. "I'm going to bed."
He had taken a step toward the spiraling staircase before his father's voice stopped him. "James." The seriousness in his tone caused James to look back at him with some trepidation. "Your grandfather spent his life arguing for the rights of Muggles and Muggle-borns. We raised you to treat everyone—no matter their bloodline, no matter their magical power—with respect."
"I know, Dad, and you know I don't actually agree with anything Bellatrix Black thinks."
"I do know that. But the face we show the world—standing up for what is right—these things are crucial, especially now. Your mother and I have become very private in our affairs as we've gotten older, but we would never, ever lie about our beliefs. What good are your morals if you don't stand behind them when questioned?"
James watched him now, shame blanketing him. He said nothing. There was no sense in arguing. He knew, after all, that his father was right.
"Your mother and I love you very much, James," his father continued, "but we're extremely disappointed in you." A punch in the gut, followed by a much worse one: "And your grandfather would be too."
James climbed the staircase slowly after that, and when he emerged into the little loft and both Remus and Peter started whispering fervently to him at once, he barely registered their words. He nodded absentmindedly and told them they'd talk more about it tomorrow. He climbed into his bed quickly, and despite the fact that it had been the longest day of his life, sleep would not come to him. The reverberations of his father's words in his head were far too loud, and the empty fourth bed next to him was far too ominous.