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“Aren’t we too old for this?” said Remus when his eyes landed on the Potters’ dining table, where no fewer than fifteen little vials of the exact same shape and size had been lined up, none of them translucent. A display that caused a dozen different memories to flash in Remus’s mind - not even half of them good, three-quarters of them messy, and a tenth downright disturbing. They hadn’t done that in years.
James’s smile was immediate, but it seemed a little forced, a little tired.
“Fun,” he said still, “isn’t something you outgrow, Moony.”
It was debatable whether Potion Roulette - the name Remus had given the whole thing in his head (it hadn’t stuck - “What’s ‘Roulette’, Moony?”) - was fun, but from James’s perspective, it probably was. After all, it hadn’t been him who-
“But should we be doing this? Now?” said Remus, partly to drown out his own thoughts, partly to say something.
“I haven’t been meaning to pull that card, but you don’t leave me a choice,” said James, his voice rising a little. “I’ve been grounded for months with no means of getting out, not even for a walk, ever since Dumbledore took the Cloak. I don’t even know when I last saw you all - you’re always on some Order mission. The least you can do is drink a little Confusion Concoction to entertain me. One evening.”
James fought hard to keep the smile in his voice, but it sounded a little strained and who was to blame him. Even Voldemort's personal agenda against his family aside things were dark.
The news were so horrible these days that ‘normal’ murders and cases of missing people didn’t even make headlines anymore. Not when Inferi were let loose at a Muggle pre-school. Not when the last of the UK giants had joined Voldemort and almost extinguished a whole village before the Ministry had even arrived at the scene. Not when a curse shut down a whole ward at St Mungo’s. Not when people pretended nothing had happened, even if their own family members were disappearing - for fear of being next.
Trust had become more rare and valuable than goblin-wrought silver.
Remus glanced at Sirius, who hadn’t said a single word to him on the way here, and who had taken to sleeping on ‘his side’ of the bed although insisting everything was fine. Of course it wasn’t. But Remus didn’t blame him. The war was weighing on them all, and Sirius was torn between volunteering for every mission there was and his concern for James, Lily, and Harry. He didn’t sleep and Remus couldn’t even remember when he had laughed the last time. But there was nothing he could do to make any of it better, none of them could, and so he kept quiet. It was simply happening, it was a side-effect of the war, one of the many casualties.
Sirius's laugh disappeared, the light in James's eyes was slowly dimmed down, Peter became more jumpy than ever and Remus himself was now more jaded than was possibly healthy.
They had all drifted apart between Order missions and exhaustion.
And Sirius and he had drifted apart between days of absence and ringing silence. He couldn't even pinpoint the exact date when it had happened, but one day none of them had bothered anymore, had cared enough. These days there were matters more pressing than whatever they were now.
But just one afternoon, just one evening of pretending, of faking normality - he could relate to that wish of James's all too well.
“By the way, there’s an antidote for every single potion in the cupboard,” said Lily with a wink at her husband. “I'm taking Harry upstairs. Have fun, boys.”
“Lily!” James groaned as if her revelation had spoiled all the fun.
“Alright, James, what do you got for us? Wouldn’t want a repetition of April ’76, would we?” Sirius, whom Remus had only ever seen tense and frowning on the scarce occasions they had both been at home, was now wearing something resembling a smile.
Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. They could definitely all do with a break and if it took a bit of Confusion Concoction to wash away the tension and awkwardness that had somehow stretched between them - so what? This time they had antidotes at hand, and Remus was fairly certain there was no Polyjuice in any of the vials. What could go wrong?
“Nothing extraordinary,” said James. “Forgetfulness Potion, Babbling Beverage, that sort of thing…” He smiled. “But we all know it’s the noble pursuit of knowledge we’re doing this for…”
Sirius snorted and James grinned. The 'noble pursuit of knowledge' was James's preferred go-to pretence. It had been dragged up when their Defense against the Dark Arts Professor had refused to answer whether different jinxes amplified each other (they did, depending on the jinx), it had been his reasoning behind exploring every bit of the castle ('they should've included it in Hogwarts, a History if they don't want us to go there - they want us to learn, right?') and it had been the beginning of Potion Roulette ('What do you think will happen if I mix Euphoria Elixir with Draught of Peace?'). Because it had never been just about drinking a bit of Confusion Concoction.
“You would know how the Potions agree with one another if you bothered giving it a single thought,” Lily’s voice came from upstairs.
“Sure, Lily,” Sirius yelled back with a self-assurance implying she had been talking to him. “But where’d be the fun in that?” Lily laughed and Sirius fixed James with his eyes. “I take she checked them?”
“Yeah.”
“Good thing,” Sirius nodded. “Imagine your dad was a famous potioneer and that’s how you honour his memory.” Now he was fully smiling. He looked five years younger than he had in weeks. Remus had almost forgotten that the crease between his brows wasn’t a permanent fixture on his face.
“Excuse me, have you met dad?” said James, mirroring Sirius’s smile. “He’d have wanted to join in.... So... who wants to go first?"
Five minutes later, Sirius had been forced to down the first vial, which turned out to be a Hiccoughing Solution. Ten minutes in, both Remus and James had taken their first potions. James had briefly grown a pumpkin for a head, and Remus had aged by presumably ten to fifteen years. He wasn’t the least bit surprised to find that his hair was already greying.
“Ah, don’t sulk, Moony,” said James, even though Remus wasn’t sulking. If it hadn’t been for his run-of-the-mill face or the lycanthropy, growing up with James and Sirius surely would have stripped him from all vanity.
James ‘What’s personal space’ Potter pushed a hand through Remus's now greying hair and nodded at Sirius, obviously incredibly amused by this outcome. “You match his eyes. So cute.”
"Hush, pumpkin," said Sirius with a wink. His eyes had softened considerably and his smile didn't even melt away when they lingered on Remus for a moment.
Maybe this hadn't been the worst of ideas. He looked more alive than in ages and Remus vowed to himself that he would talk to him after this. Difficult though it might be.
Then it was Peter’s turn. He knocked back his assigned vial, three pairs of eyes set on him, waiting for the effects to set in. Nothing happened. No hiccoughing, no dazed look, no stomach growl, no pumpkin head.
“Everything okay?” asked Remus, because in this game, the absence of a reaction was not a good sign. That was exactly what had happened in April of ’76 - before it had all gone horribly wrong. “Prongs, what was in that vial?”
“I don’t know. That’s the whole point, isn’t it?” said James. He snatched the vial out of Peter’s hands and gave it a sniff. “Do you take me for a cheater?” He sounded wounded at the mere insinuation - although no one had made it.
Beside Sirius, Peter was breathing hard as if already envisioning a repetition of the disaster that had started in their dorm and transferred into the prefect bathroom a few years ago.
“Relax, Wormtail,” said Sirius dismissively. “No one’s poisoning you. You heard Lily, the antidotes are all lined up.”
James was now trying to peer into the vial. “Peter,” he said slowly. He squinted, blinked, and lowered the vial. “Did the potion taste of anything?”
“No,” said Peter, a slight quiver audible even in this single syllable. “Should it have?”
James frowned. “Peter,” he said again, pushing back his glasses. The smile had disappeared from his face. “Why was it you didn’t take N.E.W.T. level Transfiguration?”
“Because I failed my O.W.L.s,” said Peter at once. It was what they had all suspected, but to this day Peter had insisted he simply wasn’t interested in Transfiguration.
James’s eyes widened in horror and so did Peter’s. “Blimey,” said James. “That wasn’t supposed to be in there.”
Remus just about resisted the urge of rubbing his temples. Maybe this hadn't been the best of ideas. “How come you still have Veritaserum stored?”
“Not me. Lily had stored some we didn’t know of." James shook his head distractedly as if trying to gather his own thoughts. "We found it just the other night when we-” He shook his head again. “We were supposed to give it to Moody. He’s going to be livid - and you drank it all -”
“I - that’s not my fault, I didn’t-“ said Peter. His voice was trembling just like his bottom lip and he was glancing from James to Sirius and to the door. He shifted in his seat.
“Merlin, Wormtail, stop squirming, you’re giving me a headache,” said Sirius between two hiccoughs. “You know it’s off-limits.”
The only rule about Potion Roulette was that potions messing with a person’s free will were firmly off-limits - not limited to but especially covering Amortentia and Veritaserum. It was the only line Sirius had ever drawn and he watched it carefully. It was a firm, thick, and untouchable line and there was no toeing it, not even getting close to it with a stick.
Sirius rolled his eyes at Peter’s lack of composure. “No one cares about your wanking habits or your obsession with Celestina Warbeck or how much you really spent on that Gobstones collection. What are you scared of?” He exchanged one of those glances with James. “Prongs, fetch him the antidote, it’s no fun like that.”
Sirius had spoken so loudly that he had missed that Peter had actually answered his throwaway question. And so had James, apparently, because he was already getting to his feet to do as told, not paying Peter any mind. But Remus had made out a few words piercing through Sirius’s jumble of words and hiccoughs.
“What did you just say?” he asked quietly, eyebrows raised at Peter.
“I’m scared of you figuring me out,” said Peter. No sooner had the words left his mouth than he looked downright panicky. His eyes flit to the door again.
Sirius groaned. “Oh, Wormtail, I just told you, no one cares whether-”
“Figuring you out,” said James, who had stopped midway to the kitchen. “What do you mean figuring you out? What’s there to figure out? We don’t have any secrets with one another.” If James had looked personally offended before this, it was nothing compared to the look of deep hurt he was sporting now. Remus was’t sure why he hadn’t noticed it immediately, but everything seemed more raw about James’s features at the moment. Every emotion seemed a little sharper, his nerves stretched thin even though he usually gave his all to mask it. But now he all but glared at Remus as if it was all his fault. “Not since Moony’s furry little problem.”
Peter looked extremely uncomfortable by now. Sweat was forming on his forehead and blotchy red patches had appeared on both his cheeks and neck.
And the potion - the Veritaserum - seemed to decide that James was done talking, thus declaring it Peter’s turn to start because Peter opened his mouth.
“Come on, mate,” pushed Sirius with an empathetic look at his best friend. “That’s hardly fair, get him the anti-”
But he was cut off by Peter. And the words that tumbled out of his mouth had them all freeze.
“That I’m working for You-Know-Who.”