Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Remus didn't mean to listen. He just didn't know how to stop once he'd started. Besides, the things the old man with the beard was saying were far too interesting for Remus to pull his ear away from the door now. The Lupins’ house was always quiet, which only made eavesdropping far easier.

As they were finishing their dinner that evening, the mysterious man knocked at the door. Remus had not heard him walking on the gravel path up to their cottage, but he hadn’t had time to question. The man did not introduce himself, for Remus’ father seemed to know him already. Perhaps the man was a doctor, though doctors rarely made house calls anymore. Remus had been ushered away into his bedroom immediately, even though it was barely eight o’clock.

The man was impossibly old, with a long white beard that seemed never ending. His robes –for that was all his strange garments could be described as– were of the deepest purple colour. Remus had never seen a boy wearing purple before. The man wore glasses with crescent-moon shaped lenses, settled on the bridge of his sharp nose. Remus tried to picture how the flickering lamp in the kitchen would hit the glass as the strange man talked to his father.

“Lyall, I understand your reservations, but–”

“Professor, if you truly understood, you would not be here now!”

Remus had never heard his father yell before. Lyall Lupin was an altogether unassuming man who preferred a hard stare to the usual forms of discipline. Sometimes, Remus wondered if his father would yell at him if his mother was around, if he would take on that role and give the glares to the second parent. Remus did not ask his father such questions.

The door creaked as Remus leant on it, the wood just a little too soft. He held his breath, freezing. Yet his father continued yelling at the old man, who remained surprisingly calm.

“Magic is important,” the old man said calmly.

Magic. Remus had heard about magic the same way most children heard about God: from fables and tales, through doors that weren’t meant to be open, and in whispered voices. He knew he believed in magic, for there was simply no other explanation for what happened to him each month. Remus hated magic. It tore his flesh open and left scarlet scars behind. It cracked and pulled at his bones. It meant he had to be locked in the silver-plated shed once a month, howling and scaring all the sheep on the Welsh hills. His father seemed to hate magic too.

“Important,” Lyall muttered bitterly. “Magic ruined my life! Magic is the reason my son suffers every month! Magic is the reason my wife left! Did you know that, Professor?”

“I did not,” the old man said in a solemn voice. “And after all this time, I believe you may call me Albus, or Dumbledore at least–”

“That’s not fucking important!”

If he had never heard his father yell, you can most certainly believe that Remus had never heard his father swear. Swearing was reserved for the huddles of teenage boys in the park, or the portly men down the village pub. Swearing was not something Lyall Lupin ever did, not even when he burned himself on the kettle. Hearing such rage flow from his father’s mouth rattled Remus, even through the door. More than that, his father’s words brought back Remus’ least favourite thought.

He was the reason his mother left.

Remus was certain that, if he was a normal boy, his mother would still be around. He could barely remember her, but there always seemed to be a Hope Lupin shaped hole in his life. He had no one to make a Mother’s Day card for in primary school; they had laughed when he made one for his dad instead. The fact that you don’t have to make Mother’s Day cards once you got older was one of the only reasons he was excited to go to the local secondary school.

Pressing his ear against the door, Remus continued to listen to his father’s irate ramblings. Each word added another writhing snake to the pit in his stomach.

“Hope couldn’t stand looking after a werewolf son, so she left! She packed her bags on a full moon when he was in that stupid cage we used to put him in, and she left us! She didn’t even say goodbye to Remus, he… he was only five, he didn’t understand. So, Dumbledore, I moved us out to fucking Wales and I built us a life without magic. I don’t work for the Ministry anymore, I don’t even use magic to make my tea because I am making a better life for my boy. As good as it can be when I’ve already ruined it for him.”

“You haven’t ruined the boy’s life,” Dumbledore said. “But keeping him away from magic won’t do him any good. He needs to learn how to control his magic before something bad occurs, an accident perhaps. Or worse, he could become an Obscurial–”

“That won’t happen.”

The traitorous door chose that moment to swing open, sending Remus tumbling onto the stone kitchen floor. He scrambled to his feet, preparing himself to be on the receiving end of his father’s newfound anger. He got the hard stare instead, but it still made his gut twist. Remus’ father guided him to sit down at the kitchen table, his thick brows knitted together. Looking up, Remus swallowed thickly as his father and the old man stood over him.

“I trust you heard a lot of what we were saying,” Lyall said, folding his arms.

“Sorry!” Remus squeaked, his voice tinged with the kind of Welsh accent his father was yet to pick up. “I really didn’t mean to, Dad, I swear!”

“It’s alright, son.” A brief pause as his father eyed the old man. “But I think you ought to listen to what Professor Dumbledore here has to say to you. Because, at the moment, I’m considering his ridiculous offer.”

Remus’ eyes flicked over to the old man, who nodded solemnly.

“I work for a school called Hogwarts,” he said, his voice firm yet gentle. “It is a school for young witches and wizards such as yourself. We would like you to join us this September, if your father assents.”

“You know I’m a freak, right?” Remus muttered, cringing when his father sighed.

“You are not a freak, Remus,” Dumbledore remarked. “What you are is a lycanthrope, a werewolf, and we are very much aware of your condition. Preparations are already in motion to ensure the safety of you and your fellow students, and of course, secrecy.”

“The other kids wouldn’t know?” Lyall interjected, brow furrowed deeply.

“Not unless Remus elects to inform them himself.”

“Then it’s your choice, son.”

Their eyes fell on Remus. He ran over his options in his head. He could decline and attend his local secondary school with the same kids he’d known since he was five, or he could go to Hogwarts. A school for people like him. He found himself nodding.

“I want to go to magic school.”

Chapter Text

Sirius already knew what to wear and what to say and how to smile the right way. He just didn’t know if he really meant any of it. Staring at himself in his Hogwarts uniform, he wasn’t sure that this was who he wanted to be. Sirius Orion Black, Heir to the Noble House of Black.

The uniform was too starchy. He suspected Kreacher had done it on purpose, for that house elf truly hated him. Mother had insisted that Sirius arrive at the platform already dressed, emphasising the vulgarity of simply changing your clothes in public where there could be mudbloods roaming about. Sirius wished he could’ve skipped out on wearing it altogether.

The cloak was inky black, weighing him down like a stack of bricks. His white shirt and grey trousers scraped against his skin, and he just knew he would be all itchy in a matter of minutes. The shiny black shoes Mother had bought from Diagon Alley were just a little too big, but she hadn’t listened when he told her that. They were smart shoes, she’d said, fit for the Heir. Only, Sirius wasn’t sure if that title suited him at all.

He flopped down onto his ornate four poster bed, his back hitting the luxurious covers with a soft thump. Staring up at the ceiling, his eyes traced the deep green paint that covered it, as well as every wall in his bedroom. The Noble House of Black didn’t do subtlety. Like his room suggested, Sirius would be a Slytherin once he arrived at Hogwarts that evening, just like every other Black going back centuries. You’d think it was millennia from the way his parents spoke of the tradition, as though they could control it.

Sirius’ entire life had been planned out for him. He would attend Hogwarts as part of Slytherin house, get the best grades in his OWLs and NEWTs, then marry some pureblood woman and continue the line of the Noble House of Black. He was fairly certain that said pureblood woman would be his snotty cousin Narcissa. Her elders sisters were already spoken for, though Sirius wouldn’t have wanted to marry Bellatrix. She was altogether horrifying and Sirius still shuddered whenever he remembered how she’d cursed him when he was six to hang upside down from the ceiling and wouldn’t let him down until he apologised 100 times for interrupting her gossip session with her stupid friend Rita.

“Are you ready– Sirius Orion Black!” screeched the shrill voice of Sirius’ mother.

Walburga Black was a severe woman, in every sense of the word. Sirius bolted up as she entered his bedroom, smoothing the back of his cropped black hair. His mother was wearing one of her finest gowns to escort him to King’s Cross, never once missing out on an opportunity to look down on the mudbloods and Muggles. Her beady eyes raked over his body.

“You have wrinkled your uniform,” she scowled.

Sirius couldn’t help but flinch as she pulled her wand from the folds of her dress, earning another scoff. She mumbled some incantation as she waved the wand, causing Sirius’ clothes to straighten themselves as though they had just been ironed. The only indication that she was satisfied was a quiet hum before she turned to leave, knowing he would follow right after her.

For some reason, he didn’t. He just stood in the doorway of his bedroom, frozen still until he heard the next door open. It was his little brother’s bedroom door. Sure enough, Regulus’ face appeared, poking out into the hallway. Sirius felt a smile on his face. He was only one year older than his brother, and they were more like twins than simply brothers.

They looked rather similar. The same short black hair, the same blue eyes that were far rounder than their parents’, their pale skin. But their mannerisms were entirely different. Where Sirius had learned when to be loud and when to shut up, Regulus was prone to emotional outbursts. Sirius dreaded leaving him at home for months at a time. It made him feel queasy every time he thought of it.

"Alright, Reg?" asked Sirius.

Regulus walked across the hall, standing directly in front of his brother. The dark bags beneath his eyes echoed the ones beneath Sirius’. Neither brother had had much sleep the previous night. Sirius wondered if Regulus had tossed and turned like he had. He wrapped an arm around his little brother, pulling him into a weak hug. They didn’t really hug very much; it felt strange. Nice, but strange.

"I was not sure if you were gone yet, but I didn't want to sit by my lonesome so I came here."

"You know a lot of big words for a little boy," Sirius laughed.

"Meanie," Regulus stuck his tongue out. “I’m ten.”

They stood there in silence for a while. Silence was rare in the Black family, and it was therefore cherished. Sirius believed that the best times he had with his brother were the loud ones, but Regulus preferred the quieter times. Regulus did not like tumbling about in the garden or trying to sneak over the fence into the streets of Muggle London. They had never actually made it over the wall without getting caught, but the anticipation of what was on the other side only spurred Sirius on more.

"I’ll have my own wand soon, and I'll hex you," muttered Regulus, his little voice growing thick. "If you're mean to me or if you don’t write, I'll hex you."

"Not if I hex you first," smirked Sirius, briefly tightening his grip before releasing his little brother. “I have to go now, Mother is waiting.”

Regulus wiped his nose, sniffling. Sirius hoped he wouldn’t cry, he taught him not to cry when either of their parents could hear. Luckily, the younger Black took a deep breath and managed to hold it in. Sirius squeezed his shoulder before heading down the stairs towards his mother and their house elf. Towards his future

Chapter Text

James had been waiting for this day forever. Now it was here, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands. He wanted to hold his parents’ hands and stand in between them as the three Potters walked down the platform, but he wasn’t sure that holding hands with your parents was cool at the grand age of eleven. He would have to ask Marlene; she was his authority on all things cool.

Platform 9 ¾ was bustling with young witches and wizards. James couldn’t help but wonder which one would become his best friend, to which one he would show his father’s prized Invisibility Cloak that currently resided in James’ trunk. He had pinched himself when he had first seen it as his father procured it from the secret safe in his office. James had promised to never use it wisely, swearing to at least prank Dumbledore once as payback for the detention the headmaster gave Fleamont Potter that led to him falling in love with James’ mother Euphemia. It was James’ favourite bedtime story as a child, and he’d begged to hear it each night. He didn’t do that now, because he was eleven and therefore an adult.

Clutching his mother’s hand and deciding it wasn’t embarrassing afterall, James followed his father down the platform, unable to stop a wide smile from spreading across his face. The Hogwarts Express tooted its horn to the giggles of first years and seventh years alike. James could already see students on the train, sitting in compartments with their best of friends. He squeezed his mother’s hand. She squeezed his back. His father looked back at them both with a smile just like his, and James suddenly realised he was going to be very homesick.

He had thought of that before, of course, but he’d been so excited about going to Hogwarts, that he hadn’t really considered just how much he’d miss his family. He wouldn’t be able to crawl into his parents’ bed on those rare occasions where he couldn’t sleep. They wouldn’t be just down the hall. James felt his eyes getting rather warm.

“Oi, Potter!”

James’ head flicked up, his almost-tears giving way to his grin again. Oh, he wasn’t actually going to cry. He’s eleven now! His honey brown eyes darted about the platform, searching for the source of that irritating and familiar voice. When they landed on the messy blonde hair of a girl who was frantically waving her arm at him, James released his mother’s hand and sprinted down the platform. He bumped into Marlene with enough force to send her tumbling back into her father.

“Oh Merlin,” James giggled as he pulled Marlene into a hug and peeked over her shoulder. “Sorry, Mr McKinnon!”

“It’s alright, James,” Marlene’s father said in his thick Irish accent. “I know you’re not really that sorry, you pair of hellions.”

Marlene wriggled her way out of James’ hug, never one for prolonged physical affection. She pushed her long blonde hair out of her eyes, sending it down her back. Marlene had the longest hair of any girl James knew, but she despised it. He wondered how long they would be at Hogwarts before she coerced him into helping her chop it all off. Her mother would be devastated. Marlene likely wouldn’t care.

The Potters and the McKinnons were old family friends, ever since Marlene’s parents had moved into the village near the Potters’ estate. James wasn’t entirely sure why they’d left Ireland, but he’d heard his dad whispering about all sorts of goings on. A few years after the McKinnons had moved, Marlene and James had been born. Along with the McKinnons’ neighbour Peter, a troublesome trio had been born. Their parents could never get them to come inside in the summer, or to climb down from whatever tree they’d scrambled up. Marlene was the best at climbing trees.

“Da, we’re not hellions,” Marlene grumbled, picking up her battered red suitcase. “We’re excited to go to Hogwarts!”

“Really excited,” James echoed with a bright smile. “Me and Marls and Pete, we’re going to rule the school!”

James grinned up at Mr McKinnon as he rolled his eyes with a sigh, turning to busy himself with Marlene’s squabbling little sisters. Marlene had a big family, and James often found himself feeling a little jealous. But he wouldn’t have wanted to share his parents’ attention with five other siblings like Marlene had to. She was right in the middle as well, which was probably why she acted out so much. James had heard Marlene’s mother telling his mother that she hoped Hogwarts would calm her down like it did her older children. Euphemia Potter had laughed, and told her that with James around, nothing was ever calm.

“Come on, Marlene! We ain’t waiting for ya,” grumbled Marlene’s oldest brother, Ronan.

“Lick my boots, ya feckin–”

“Marlene Eimear McKinnon!” Mr McKinnon scowled down at his daughter while her oldest brother looked thoroughly pleased with himself.

Ronan was in his seventh year, and thoroughly snotty. He always shouted at the three of them if they were too loud while he was trying to study or trim his nose hairs or whatever he did. James preferred Marlene’s other older brothers, who were in fifth and third year respectively. Shay was overwhelmingly cool and hadn’t studied for his OWLs once, despite them being this summer. Darragh always bought sweets for James, Marlene and Peter whenever he went to the shops. James was looking forward to going to school with Shay and Darragh. Ronan, not so much.

Hugging his mother and father tightly in a not-at-all-embarrassing group hug, James said his final goodbyes before dashing onto the train with Marlene. Peter was still nowhere to be seen, and James decided to wander up and down the length of the Hogwarts Express while Marlene secured an empty cabin. She could be rather intimidating when she wanted to be, and James didn’t doubt that no one would dare sit there if she set her mind to it.

The Hogwarts Express was surprisingly cosy for such an imposing vehicle. The carpets were plush underneath James’ feet and a sweet smell wafted through the carriages as he searched for Peter. The sound of laughter and enthusiastic chatting could be heard from inside the compartments, and James couldn’t hep but smile. Even as he walked past some girl with platinum blonde hair and a look that said How dare this eleven year old express joy in my presence!, James felt as though this was the start of the best part of his life.

“James!”

Chapter Text

Peter shuffled down the train meekly, preparing a pathetic speech. He couldn’t find James or Marlene anywhere, and the number of empty compartments was rather low. Perhaps he would have to beg some strangers to allow him to sit with them. He’d been on the Hogwarts Express for approximately five minutes, and he was already beginning to hate the idea of going to school. The train hadn’t even left the station yet, he could just hop off– No. Peter was being brave.

Only he didn’t really have to be, because he’d just spotted a familiar black tangle of hair. James was brave for him, and Marlene was even braver, not that Peter would ever tell either of them. He called out to James, just in case it wasn’t actually him, and felt himself smiling as his best friend turned around. They hugged briefly and Peter listened to James ramble as he led him to where Marlene allegedly was.

“Honestly, mate, Ronan was being a right pain again,” James said animatedly, shaking his head. “He kept hurrying us along, like we even wanted to sit next to that oaf! I mean, I wouldn’t say no to sitting next to Shay, because Shay is just so cool. But Ronan? He’s practically a troll! A rulebook kissing troll, that’s what I think.”

Peter rather liked it when James talked a lot. It was like listening to some storyteller or a town crier, heralding the tales of the world. He liked even more when James and Marlene would talk, because that meant he could just sit back and observe his own personal television show, starring his two best friends. Talking was far more stressful, and though neither of them pointed it out, Peter felt as though he always managed to say the wrong thing when he joined the conversation. Listening was better.

James always walked just a little too fast, like he simply didn’t have time to wait even a second. Peter felt slightly out of breath as he hurried behind, still intently listening as James kept chattering. Peter hoped he didn’t look too flushed; he was only walking after all. He was the slowest of the three of them, always taking just a little longer to climb up trees and race across the garden. His mum said he would lose the baby fat soon, and Peter hoped he would be all lean like James.

“Here you are,” Marlene huffed as they entered her compartment. “Took you bloody long enough.”

But she wasn’t alone. Lounging across the bench opposite Marlene was a boy that looked unfamiliar and entirely too relaxed in a compartment full of strangers. He had jet black hair that was cropped and gelled, not messy like James’. No, this boy styled his hair. He was already wearing his robes, and they bore no house emblem. Peter concluded that the boy must be a first year student as well, though he had an air of maturity and self-confidence that Peter was yet to experience. This boy didn’t look older, not exactly; his sharp features were still youthful, but he just seemed as though he had far more experience than even Marlene’s older brothers.

The boy looked up at Peter and James with a lazy smirk. Swinging his legs, he sat up on the seat as though making room for them to sit down. He didn’t seem as though he was planning on leaving.

“I was just keeping your dear friend company,” the boy drawled. “With such a permanent scowl, how was I to know she actually had friends?”

“Because I told you I did, genius,” Marlene huffed, glowering at the boy.

“Well, my kind heart just wouldn’t let me leave a poor, friendless little thing alone,” he countered with a smirk.

Peter didn’t like that one bit. Yes, Marlene was thunderous when she wanted to be, but that was for Peter and James to joke about. Mostly James, in truth. Making fun of Marlene was not something that this boy was allowed to do, in his ridiculously posh accent.

Only, Marlene didn’t seem that angry. She stuck her tongue out at the boy in the way she normally did at James when he teased her or at Peter when he accidentally insulted her. They never really meant it, and he wondered how Marlene knew that the boy wasn’t really making fun of her.

James sat down next to the boy and Peter settled down next to Marlene, who was staring out of the window. Peter would’ve preferred the window seat, but he stayed quiet. Marlene just looked so enthralled by the way the London townhouses gave way to rolling hills and lush green forests. She finally turned her face back as the boy began to introduce himself.

“I’m Sirius, by the way,” he said in his upper-class drawl. “Sirius Black. And I’d prefer it if there were no further comments on that fact.”

“As in the Noble House of Black?” James asked, tilting his head and almost causing his glasses to slip off his nose. “As in Orion Black? You know, my dad said–”

“No further comments,” Sirius repeated, arching an eyebrow. “Now, what are your names?”

“I’m James Potter,” James answered without missing a beat. “This is Marlene McKinnon and Peter Pettigrew, my best friends.”

Sirius arched his eyebrow once more, a habit Peter was beginning to find irritating. He felt a glow of pride as James referred to him as one of his best friends, not that he didn’t already know that. Peter was glad to have two best friends going to Hogwarts with him. Regarding Sirius with what he hoped was a subtle expression of utter bewilderment at how anyone could tell James Potter not to do something and have him listen, Peter decided that Sirius would not be joining their group if he had anything to do with it.

“Fleamont Potter invented Sleakeezy,” Sirius mused, nodding as though he was thinking to himself. “You don’t use your father’s products, do you? That’s a right bird's nest of hair you’ve got.”

“Oh, jog on,” James laughed, but he didn’t look mad. “I put loads of it in, but my hair is Sleakeezy’s number one adversary.”

“It doesn’t help that you’re always tumbling out of some tree,” Marlene interjected with a grin. “Or flying your broom into one!”

“That was one time!”

Peter sat back and listened to his two best friends squabble. Only Sirius kept joining in, and it wasn’t nice to listen at all. Sirius hadn’t been there when James was testing out his new broom and accidentally flew it into the tall tree at the back of the Potter Estate, but he was laughing along with them like he had been. Peter didn’t like that at all.

Chapter Text

He really couldn’t hide in the bathroom much longer. Remus had told himself that he only went in there to change into his uniform, but he was dressed now and he couldn’t bring himself to leave. He’d put the toilet lid down and used it as a makeshift chair while he tried to will himself to stand up and exit the bathroom. His legs just wouldn’t listen.

There was probably a line outside the door now, and he didn’t want to face that. The main thing he was afraid of was finding a compartment. He hadn’t actually been on a train before, having never left his village in Wales since they moved there. He’d been stunned to realise they had rooms on them, small compartments with chairs. The train he’d travelled in down to London the previous night had even had beds. Finding a compartment then had been stress free; his father simply chose one and Remus followed behind.

Finding a compartment on the Hogwarts Express was an entirely different story. He would have to speak to strangers, to ask them if they’d mind if he intruded on their space and already formed friendship dynamics. Remus felt almost sick at the thought. Even worse, he was certain that one of the students he approached would notice the scars hiding beneath his uniform, like the one from two full moons ago that slashed down the side of his neck in deep red against his skin. They never faded, and he knew they were different. If he scraped his knee or got a papercut, the skin healed right over. The scars from his transformations didn’t change one bit, never even fading to pink.

Remus pulled his knees up to his chest as he continued to sit on the toilet. What if he didn’t leave the bathroom? He wondered if anyone would come looking, or if he could just wait until the train returned to Kings Cross. His father would still be in London for another few days. Remus could go to him and they could both pretend that magic didn’t exist. It would be rather difficult each time the full moon came about, but they would manage.

Why had he even wanted to come to Hogwarts in the first place? Dumbledore had practically coerced him, forced him to leave his nice, comforting village back home– Remus cut off his mind’s ridiculous spiral. He didn’t much like his home village anyway, and no one had forced him to come to Hogwarts. He had put himself in this unbelievable mess, and now he was in the bathroom, having to deal with it.

“Come out!” came a nasal voice from outside the cubicle. “Some of us need to relieve ourselves!”

There were three sharp bangs on the bathroom door. Smoothing his robes, Remus stood up and took a deep breath. Only that didn’t really calm him down, so he took another deep breath and decided that whole deep breathing thing was a sham. He pushed open the door, expecting some intimidating seventh year who might push his head down the toilet.

Instead, he found himself looking down at a boy with pallid skin and long black hair. Remus was looking down at the boy, which was laughable because Remus wasn’t exactly tall. This boy was pathetic, and Remus thought about heading back into the bathroom and closing the door in his face. But that would be petty, and he didn’t fancy making too many enemies yet.

He stepped aside, gesturing for the boy to enter. Remus looked over the visible grease in his hair, feeling both repulsed and strangely happy that his immediate irritation towards this boy was vaguely valid. He was a snotty little thing, and Remus hoped the boy was going to hide in the toilet because he also didn’t have friends.

They engaged in an awkward sort of staring match as the boy moved towards the toilet, making Remus resoundingly uncomfortable. But the train wasn’t wide enough for him to slip past just yet, so he was stuck there, glaring at a stranger trying to use the toilet. The boy scoffed as he moved past him, and Remus really couldn’t help himself.

“Go on then, slimy. Take your fat shit.”

So much for not making enemies yet. Remus walked away down the train, suppressing a smirk as he heard the boy’s surprised gasp. Perhaps magical folk didn’t really talk like that, but he’d heard far worse from four year olds back home. With the smallest amount of confidence that he didn't think would last that long, he searched for an empty compartment or at least one that contained kids his age.

***

He had chosen the wrong compartment. After milling past groups of older kids, he could only seem to find girls that were his age. While Remus had no massive problem with girls, he often found them more threatening than the boys and didn’t feel as though he wanted that kind of stress right now. So, when he came upon a compartment with three boys and one girl in it (for the compartments could hold six seventh years or at least eight tiny first years), Remus had shyly asked if he could sit there. They had allowed him to join them, but it had not been a good choice.

They were overwhelmingly silent, staring down at their books as though their lives depended on it. The redhead girl – her name had been Lucy, or Libby, or something like that – had attempted to talk to Remus once, but fallen silent at a glare from a round looking boy. Lily, yes that was her name, seemed awfully uncomfortable in the compartment.

She looked very much like a girl, which shouldn’t have really been that surprising but it was a stark contrast to the severe looking companions in the compartment. Lily’s every feature was soft, her cheeks round with that childlike adorability that the old biddies in his home village would’ve cooed over. She even had little pink ribbons at the end of her ginger pigtails, which Remus thought suited her. Not that he really had an opinion on fashion; his uniform already looked creased and crumpled from hiding in the bathroom.

Remus’ eyes flicked up from the floor as he felt Lily relax next to him. She had been entirely too tense the entire time, her back pin straight. She was relaxed now, a smile on her face. Remus’ gaze landed on a boy with long black hair and a perpetual sneer. The very same boy he’d called slimy mere minutes ago. This was going to be a little bit awkward, he thought. When the boy noticed Remus, his sneer turned into a scowl.

“What is he doing here?” grumbled the boy, turning his scowl towards Lily. Remus didn’t like that.

“This is Remus,” Lily answered chirpily, not quite noticing the tension in the air. “He just came to sit with us and–”

“Well, he can’t,” huffed the boy as he sat down next to Lily.

Lily looked over at Remus with confusion, as though she couldn’t believe her precious friend would hold a grudge against someone for simply, politely, kindly instructing him to take a shit. Remus wondered if the boy would inform Lily of their lovely interaction.

The boy continued to glare at Remus, who just shrugged, standing up and grabbing his suitcase. It really wasn’t worth the effort. Arguing was tiresome for Remus, and arguing with someone so objectively frustrating would not be a good start to the new school year. The boy seemed far too satisfied at Remus’ acquiescence, and he just couldn’t help himself.

“Didn’t want to sit in your compartment anyway, you greasy git,” he grumbled as he exited. “I’ve just washed my hair.”

He really needed to try harder to make some friends. His father always told him that while Remus was an overall temperate child, it was his mouth that got him into trouble. Teachers at his primary school had been frustrated each time Remus mumbled a correction or comment underneath his breath. Usually, he was good at making it just quiet enough to be generally inaudible. But he’d wanted that boy to hear what he thought of him.

As he wandered down the length of the Hogwarts Express once more, Remus began to consider his plan of hiding in the bathroom until the train returned to London. It was looking more and more tempting by the minute.

Remus felt his cheeks turn slightly pink as he registered that he was walking past the same compartments he had already passed twice. Once again, the evil looking girl with the platinum blonde hair sneered at him through the doorway of their compartment, before promptly shutting it. The train hadn’t even reached the school yet, and everyone would already think he was a friendless loser. He supposed he was.

He had friends at home, he guessed, friends that he played rugby with at lunchtimes and let copy his work in lessons. But Remus had never experienced true friendship, the kind you read about or watched in films. He had never had the inclination to go over to a friend’s house for tea or to throw a birthday party. Remus preferred eating tea with his father, in their own house. Besides, the children at his primary school had been rather dull, all liking the same things.

Perhaps Hogwarts would be the same. All of the young wizards would like a magical version of rugby and all the young witches would like magical hopscotch. Remus hoped not. Variety was the spice of life after all. He thought to himself that he really sounded quite cynical for an eleven year old, and that he had managed to walk all the way to the end of the train and halfway back up without noticing.

“Do you want to sit here, or do you fancy wandering around a bit more?”

The sound of a jovial voice called Remus to look up. When he caught a glimpse of pale skin and black hair, he almost frowned. But this wasn’t the same boy, no, this boy’s hair was cropped short to his scalp and he didn’t look greasy or slimy at all. He was also grinning at Remus, while his friends smiled sheepishly behind him

“Don’t say that, Sirius,” said an Indian boy with glasses next to him. “Maybe he’s constipated.”

“Why would he be constipated?” exclaimed a blonde girl through giggles.

“I heard walking around helps!”

Grateful for the chaos, Remus managed to sit down in the compartment without anyone mentioning it. They just continued their squabbling conversation, and there were no stiff backs or stern frowns. This time, Remus had chosen the right compartment.

Chapter Text

His father would not be proud of him. The train hadn’t even reached Hogwarts yet, and Sirius already knew he had let the Noble House of Black down. He was sitting with a Potter, a Pettigrew, a McKinnon, and a boy that Sirius was beginning to realise had never known magic a day in his life. That was perhaps the worst offense, though sitting with the others wasn’t much better. To the Noble House of Black, their families weren’t real purebloods like those in the Sacred Twenty Eight were, and Sirius should absolutely not be sitting with them.

That was what made it so much better. Sirius had received his first taste of freedom, and he was hooked. Despite a brief run in with his dear cousin Narcissa as he boarded the train, there was no one to stop Sirius from doing as he pleased. He felt a sort of guilty pleasure as he chatted with his new companions, like one of his relatives might jump out at any minute to scold him and drag him back home.

Or worse, to Beauxbatons. Sirius’ mother Walburga had gone there, as she hailed from France, and it was the Black family’s ultimate threat. When Andromeda had first been caught with her Muggle-born boyfriend Ted, she had been sent to Beauxbatons for a term in her sixth year. It had thoroughly traumatised her, being in a different country with no way to communicate with home because they’d taken her owl. This punishment hadn’t really worked, because she was married to Ted now. While Sirius enjoyed being able to speak French, he wished to avoid his mother’s home country for as long as he could. He would look simply ridiculous in that blue uniform.

Sirius loosened his tie a little, allowing himself to breathe. Kreacher really had it out for him with how starchy his uniform was. Inhaling deeply through his nose, Sirius caught the scent of something sugary and rich, accompanied by the sound of squeaking wheels. It took a moment before an old woman appeared with a trolley full of sweets, sweets that Sirius had rarely even seen before. Andromeda used to sneak a couple of treats into his pocket at Christmas or birthdays, but he’d never seen this many sweets in one place.

Peter sat up straighter immediately, and Sirius almost wanted to make a scathing comment. His mother would never allow him to get so fat. But, he held himself back. That wasn’t his voice, no that was his mother’s, ingrained in his mind. Peter really wasn’t all that fat, and he hadn’t even said anything to make Sirius dislike him. Besides, Sirius had sat up straighter when he saw the trolley too, and the McKinnon girl was already rummaging in her pocket. Sirius resolved to be a little nicer to Peter.

“Anything from the trolley, my dears?” the woman asked, hunched over her trolley like a dragon over its horde of treasure.

“I’ll have three boxes of Fizzing Whizzbees, please,” James exclaimed, practically throwing the silver Sickles in his hand. “No, no! I’ll have five! Please.”

The woman chuckled lightly as she gave James his sweets. He immediately began tucking into one box, while trying to stash the rest into his trunk with the other hand, an entertaining sight. Peter bought some Liquorice Wands, Marlene bought a Pumpkin Pasty, and Sirius bought one of everything, which was an entirely irresponsible use of the money his mother had given him. When it came to Remus' turn, he looked absolutely baffled. The old lady blinked at him expectantly, and Sirius watched as the apples of his cheeks turned pink.

“I…” Remus began, swallowing thickly. “I don’t know what magic sweets there are, I’ve never–”

“Well,” Sirius interjected, not entirely sure why he just wanted Remus to stop rambling. “Do you like sour things? Or chewy sweets? Or chocolate? Or liquorice, that's what Peter had.”

“I like chocolate,” Remus said meekly, looking rather overwhelmed as he stared down at his shoes.

“He’ll have a chocolate frog then,” James nodded, handing over a few Knuts to the old woman.

Remus looked absolutely horrified as James handed over the purple and gold box to him. Sirius almost wanted to laugh, but he had resolved himself to being nice after all. He did wonder how Remus would react when he realised that chocolate frogs jumped. Remus didn’t even open the small box, just sitting there with it on his lap.

“You didn’t have to pay, James,” he said indignantly. “I do have that magic money, my-my dad’s a wizard!”

“Really? Could’ve fooled me.”

Four pairs of eyes landed on Sirius with varying degrees of irritation. So much for being nice. Swinging his leg down from where he’d awkwardly crossed it and been taking up far too much space, Sirius sat up a little straighter and gave Remus an apologetic look.

“Sorry, mate,” he said, avoiding the urge to look down at his shoes. “You just seemed so confused that I thought you were a Mudblood.”

Sirius had expected a lot of reactions from his lackluster apology. The loud gasp that echoed around the compartment hadn’t been one of them. His eyes darted between a wide eyed James, a now-hiccupping Peter, a scowling Marlene, and an equally confused Remus. He had done something wrong. Had he not apologised enough? Should he continue to express his agonies over assuming that Remus had Muggle parents? Sirius rather wished someone would say something. Marlene was the first to speak, looking as though she could barely hold herself back from lunging across the compartment and throttling him.

“I just knew you’d pull something like that,” she spat, folding her arms over her chest. “I mean, you seemed alright at first, but you blood purists are all the same. You’re a bloody bigoted twat, Sirius Black!”

“Marlene,” James said firmly, but it had little effect. James was still blinking behind his glasses rapidly, as though he was trying to figure something out. Sirius let out a little awkward laugh that was silenced when all three of them turned to glare at him. Wrong move.

“What’s a Mudblood?” Remus asked quietly, whispering the last word like he was afraid he couldn’t say it.

“Someone whose parents aren’t wizards,” Sirius replied, only getting head shakes in response. “What?”

“Someone whose parents aren’t wizards would be a Muggleborn,” James said, clearly trying to be as calm as he possibly could. “That word, the one Sirius said, is what blood purists call them, because they think their blood is dirty. It’s a slur.”

Sirius felt his heart drop into his stomach. He didn’t think people who weren’t purebloods were dirty, he had no problem with them! The realisation that this word he had been throwing around because his parents had and because his aunts and his uncles and his cousins had, was offensive made him want to be violently ill. Sirius could remember referring to Muggleborns as Mudbloods since he was a child, just believing it was normal. He wondered if Regulus knew.

Sirius must have looked as horrified as he felt, because the glares he was getting had softened a little. At least from Peter and James, Marlene still looks thunderous. Practically tripping over himself to apologise, Sirius’ words began to spew out as though he really was vomiting.

“I-I didn’t know that, I swear,” he rambled, knowing he must have turned rather pale. “I just… I thought that was what they were called! Merlin, I’m sorry! My parents, they said–”

“It’s fine, mate,” James said, patting Sirius’ shoulder. “We believe you.”

“Not like you’ve had the best house to grow up in for that sort of thing,” Marlene grumbled, kicking the heels of her patent shoes against the seat beneath her. “Sorry for calling you a bigoted twat.”

“Sorry for being one,” Sirius smiled weakly, his guilt easing just the slightest when Marlene shot him a brief smile back.

Remus seemed to snap out of his deep thought with a frown. “Wait, so what the hell am I? And why is my chocolate moving?!”

Chapter Text

James loved being a Potter, but he disliked the fact that his last name was in the second half of the alphabet. As the first years were shepherded into a gaggle at the front of the Great Hall, he felt like jumping onto the stool and finding his house straight away. He knew he would be Gryffindor, just like his dad. James wouldn’t have minded being Ravenclaw like his mum, or in Hufflepuff either. He didn’t let himself consider the possibility of Slytherin.

Sirius didn’t look as though he could see any other possibility. He was positively glum as he stood next to James, staring at the floor while Remus and Peter gawked at the ceiling. It was beautiful, with flickering candles suspended in the air and a flamingo pink sunset over them as the night approached. At the beginning of September, it was still light into the evenings, and James had spent those late evenings in his garden with Marlene and Peter until their parents made them go home.

Marlene was stood beside James, looking just a little bit nervous. It surprised him; Marlene was never nervous. Even James, who considered himself very brave, was scared of far more things than Marlene. But now, she was chewing on her bottom lip and staring straight ahead as Professor McGonnagall picked up the Sorting Hat. McGonnagall was a little younger than James’ parents, but her Scottish accent and sharp look made her appear much more intimidating. But James had caught her smiling as she surveyed the new first years.

The A’s of the alphabet went by quickly, and soon Sirius was sat on the stool. James crossed his fingers in his pocket, a childish superstition. He rather liked Sirius, who was more quick witted and funny than he had expected from a Black. James wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye to Sirius yet.

McGonnagall placed the Sorting Hat on his head, causing his face to fall into shadow. James watched as Sirius glanced over at the Slytherin table before shutting his eyes. The Sorting Hat had spent some time deliberating on the other students, but it quickly chose Sirius’ house.

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Sirius smiled briefly, but he looked positively sick as he sat down at the Gryffindor table, his pale features turning a ghostly white. There was even a small murmur of surprise around the Great Hall as everyone struggled to believe that a Black had been sorted into any house other than Slytherin, especially Slytherin’s great rival. James tried to shoot Sirius a smile, but the boy had his eyes fixed on the Sorting.

James grew more and more nervous as the Sorting progressed. Remus and Marlene were both in Gryffindor, as well as a few girls he hadn’t noticed before. There had been a fair amount of boys; James suspected there would have to be two boys dormitories. He hoped he could share one with Peter and Sirius, and Remus too.

When Peter sat on the stool, the Sorting Hat seemed to stop working. It stayed very still for a long time, causing whispers to begin to circulate the Great Hall. James had heard of there being people who couldn’t be sorted before, but he had assumed those were made up. Peter deserved to be in Gryffindor, James thought, because he was just as brave as James and Marlene were. Peter always kept up with them, and there was no reason that the Hat should be taking this long–

“GRYFFINDOR!”

James breathed a sigh of relief, unaware that he had been on the verge of passing out from the way he’d begun to hold his breath. There was one more person sorted, a Bella Platton who found herself in Ravenclaw, and then James’ name was called. Swallowing thickly, he moved to the front of the Great Hall.

Giving him the most imperceptible of smiles, McGonnagall placed the Hat on James’ head. It was just a little too large, slipping down onto the top of his glasses. James thought he must look ridiculous, but he had bigger things to be concerned about. If he didn’t get sorted into Gryffindor, he wouldn’t be in a dorm with his friends. Peter and Marlene would stop talking to him, and he’d have no one to spend the summer with. He’d be alone and friendless and overall, his life would be over.

“We’ve got ourselves a worrier, have we?”

James jolted, looking up at McGonnagall. Only McGonnagall wasn’t the one talking to him. No, it was the Sorting Hat. It was speaking to James, inside his head. He didn’t like the thought of the Hat having access to his thoughts at all, but if it meant he was getting into Gryffindor, he didn’t mind too much.

“I’m not a worrier,” James thought intently. “I just want to be with my friends.”

“Loyalty,” the Hat mused, “is a rather Hufflepuff trait.”

“Loyalty is something everyone should have,” James huffed, getting rather tired of the Hat. “Now, please can you sort me?”

“Determined, are we? Hmm, a rather chivalrous set of morals in this head. Not a bad brain either, but I don’t think Ravenclaw is the place for you. It’ll have to be…

GRYFFINDOR!”

Exhaling once more, James resolved to stop holding his breath. He stood from the stool as McGonnagall removed the Sorting Hat from his head and called up Edward Quigley. James practically sprinted towards the Gryffindor table, sliding in between Marlene and Peter. Opposite him, Sirius grinned, looking significantly less sick.

Soon the feast appeared in front of them, mountains of meat and roast potatoes and vegetables. Loading his plate, James thought that he would rather miss the food he ate at home. He wondered if the Hogwarts house elves knew how to prepare gulab jamun with firecracker syrup like his family’s house elf Figby did. He would have to ask, if he could manage to track down the kitchens. The maps they had been provided with on entering the castle didn’t include the kitchens, likely because students loved to bother the house elves with requests.

Munching on a green bean, James began to observe his fellow first year Gryffindors. Peter had mainly focused on the pigs in blankets, which James knew were his favourite, and he ate them while intently listening into Marlene and Sirius’ chatting. Remus seemed to inspect each piece of food as though it might start moving before he got it from the plate to his mouth. Sirius ate with perfect table manners, using every available piece of cutlery for what James didn’t doubt were its intended purposes, and never once speaking with food in his mouth. Marlene did not have such manners, jabbing her fork at Sirius each time he said something she disagreed with.

“No, no!” she said through a mouthful of peas. “You can’t seriously believe that Puddlemere United are the best team!”

“They’ve won the league twenty-two times, McKinnon,” Sirius countered, placing his cutlery down neatly. “It isn’t my opinion, it’s a fact!”

“Just you wait, I bet the Kestrels are going to win,” Marlene huffed, shoving a large chunk of potato into her mouth.

“Marls, you have to get over your Kenmare Kestrels obsession,” James joined in, nudging her shoulder playfully and earning a shove in return. “Just because their keeper invented something–”

“Not something,” Marlene snapped. “ Darren O’Hare created the Chaser Hawkshead Attacking Formation, the best attack strategy of all time!”

No one seemed to be listening to Marlene anymore. James and Peter had heard this speech a million times before, each time one of them dared to mention supporting another team. Remus looked completely confused, and James thought that he really must explain Quidditch to him later. Sirius had turned to singing Puddlemere United’s anthem in Marlene’s face and shouting “Navy and gold ‘till I die!” repeatedly.

James didn’t feel very homesick anymore. Sure, he missed his parents immensely and he would likely cry when he went to bed that night, but Hogwarts was already beginning to feel like home. Strangely, the squabbling and Sirius’ warbling of ‘Beat back those Bludgers, boys, and chuck that Quaffle here’ created a comforting sort of chaos that wrapped around James like a blanket.

Dumbledore stood to announce the end of the feast, and James rose with the rest of his friends. They followed a tall Prefect named Frank towards the Gryffindor common room. It was only when James turned around to speak to him that he realised Remus was gone.

“Where’s Lupin?” he muttered to Sirius as Frank explained the importance of remembering the password.

“Dunno,” Sirius whispered back. “He just said he had to go see someone and ran off.”

“He ran?”

“Well, not really. He just walked rather quickly, I was being descriptive.”

The two boys laughed, causing Frank to shoot them an attempted glare that wasn’t intimidating in the slightest. As the rest of the first years filed into the common room, James sat on the stone floor outside the portrait. Sirius didn’t ask before following suit, but they had lost Peter.

James repeated the password in his head a few times, just making sure that he didn’t forget it. He had an excellent memory, but he didn’t want to get stuck out here in the hallway. Slytherin were probably already plotting something nefarious based on the stories his dad had told him. James’ dad had combatted Slytherin’s plots with the Invisibility Cloak, and James was ready to do the same.

Peter reappeared moments later, pushing the portrait open and peering out. He frowned at the sight of his two friends on the floor, blinking rapidly.

“We’re waiting for Remus,” Sirius said, kicking the heel of his smart shoes against the stone floor.

“He won’t know the password,” James added. “You don’t have to stay, Pete. You can unpack your things and have the first pick of which bed you want.”

Nodding slowly, Peter disappeared into the common room. James let his head rest against the wall, staring ahead. The sound of Sirius’ shoes was a slow rhythm, echoed by the muffled conversations from behind the portrait.

“My parents are going to disown me,” Sirius mumbled, eyes fixed on his shoes.

“You can share my parents,” James said, staring at the wall in front of them.

Neither of them looked at each other. Neither of them said another word as they waited for Remus. But Sirius nudged the tip of his shoe against the side of James’ leg, and that was a good enough answer.

Chapter Text

Peter waited in the dormitory for his friends for a long time. The other Gryffindor boys had asked if he wanted to be in their dorm, giving him a strange look that unsettled him. He declined. For a while, Peter just sat on the four poster bed he had chosen (the one closest to the bathroom in case he needed the toilet in the middle of the night) and waited for them to arrive. Then, Peter unpacked his pyjamas and went into the bathroom to change, hoping they would’ve appeared when he emerged.

They hadn’t.

He began to wonder if he should’ve also offered to stay downstairs to wait for Remus, though he didn’t see the point in all three of them loitering. Peter hadn’t even noticed that Remus wasn’t with them until James pointed it out. He prided himself on his excellent observational skills, and he hadn’t noticed an entire missing person. Peter felt a little guilty because of that.

There were a lot of negative feelings swirling around in his gut at that moment. Peter often found himself feeling this way, when everything seemed to be too loud, too bright, too sharp, too sad, too much. He had found that doing something interesting often helped him feel better, busying his brain.

Reaching into his trunk, he pulled out one of his sketchbooks. It was bound in green leather and had been a Christmas gift from Peter’s mother, who had been very excited about his interest in art. Peter wondered if she would be so excited if she knew what he was drawing.

Bugs. Lots and lots of bugs. Peter had been fascinated by insects since he was very small, often bringing them in from the garden. Initially, his parents had found it charming. That had only been because they thought he would grow out of it, but Peter did not. He hadn’t been able to bring it all to Hogwarts, but in several shoeboxes beneath his bed, he had a collection of preserved wings and jars of dried husks.

He hoped his parents wouldn’t find his collection while he was away. They’d throw it out, maybe even send him a Howler. Peter understood that his hobby was strange; James and Marlene didn’t seem to care about insects at all. But it brought him comfort, because insects made sense. When he drew their intricate wings or learnt about their mating rituals, Peter had always felt that he understood the little creatures more than anyone else did. It had been a shame to leave his collection at home.

At least he had brought his sketchbook to Hogwarts. Leafing through pages filled with accurate sketches of all manner of bugs, Peter almost forgot that he was waiting for his friends. He began sketching a particular lacewing fly that he had seen from the window of the Hogwarts Express. He was able to do it from memory, though he’d have to check it against the real thing if he saw it again.

He was extremely excited for Herbology, and he already intended to take Care of Magical Creatures once he began his OWLs. Peter could only imagine the different species of insects in the Herbology greenhouse, flying about and living on the leaves of a Mandrake or Shrivelfigs. His sketchbook would soon be filled with accurate depictions of all of them; he would have to purchase a new one at Christmas, he was sure.

Peter slammed his sketchbook shut as the dormitory door opened. He didn’t discuss his inclination towards insects with James or Marlene, and he didn’t want to give anyone else reason to make fun of him. Sirius already seemed the type to think insects were disgusting. Peter slid the green book beneath the covers and resolved to put it back into his trunk once everyone was asleep.

Nobody told him where Remus had been. Peter wondered if he was supposed to ask.

***

The first day of lessons came the following Monday, and it was far worse than Peter expected. He had anticipated a few hiccups as he got used to his magic. He had prepared himself for awkwardness as he spoke to the other first years. Not once had he considered that he would be absolutely terrible at everything.

They had double Potions first thing after breakfast, their first ever lesson at Hogwarts, and Peter soon learned that he did not have an affinity for the subject. To make matters worse, they had Potions with Slytherin.

He had been initially rather interested in the idea of Potions, mostly because there were a lot of insects used in concocting certain draughts and elixirs. Peter had hoped to pinch a lacewing or two, just to compare it to his sketch and make sure he’d got the angle of the antennae just right. He’d return it after.

James and Peter had partnered up, of course, and Remus and Sirius stood behind the cauldron next to theirs. Marlene was talking to another Gryffindor girl with bouncy black curls. Peter wondered if the girl knew her tie was far too short, or if she’d done it on purpose. He couldn’t see why she would’ve.

After Professor Slughorn’s overly enthusiastic speech about the powers and potential of Potions, they had begun creating a simple Cure for Boils potion. Peter recoiled as James measured out how many snake fangs they’d need, before procuring a pestle and mortar to crush them.

That was where it started to go wrong. Peter began crushing the snake fangs, and one slipped out from under him with quite a lot of force. It flinged across the room, bounced against their cauldron, and then it hit a rather mean looking Slytherin.

“Who did that?” the Slytherin bellowed, looking around the room with a scowl.

Peter looked about the room as though searching for the mystery assailant, and he hoped the boy wouldn’t be able to tell it was him. Then James started laughing, nudging him and whispering, “Good one, Pete.”

The Slytherin turned towards Peter with a sneer. He had black hair to his chin that looked in good need of a wash, and his robes hung off his frame as though ten sizes too large. He wasn’t much taller than Peter was, but he was weedier and more agile looking. Peter hoped they wouldn’t have to fight. James and Marlene were always rather keen on wrestling about, but he didn’t really see the appeal.

Fumbling in his pocket, the Slytherin boy procured his wand. Peter didn’t know what spell he was planning to do, as they actually hadn’t learned any yet.

He didn’t have to find out. A small redheaded girl placed her hand on the Slytherin’s arm, and he looked so startled that he almost dropped his wand. The girl was wearing Gryffindor robes, and Peter wondered if the divide between the two houses really wasn’t as life-and-death as James had made it seem.

“It’s not worth it, Severus,” the girl said, causing the boy to stuff his wand into his pocket and resemble a sulking toddler. “It was probably just an accident.”

Professor Slughorn chose that moment to turn around and inquire about why they’d all stopped working. The class fell back into the low hum of chatter, and Peter’s shoulders relaxed. James was still chuckling, so Peter had to do most of the work. In the end, their potion was entirely the wrong colour, and they doubted it would work at all.

Peter had similar luck in Transfiguration and Charms. His hand cramped up when taking notes on McGonnagall’s speech, missing out an entire chunk. His feather hadn’t even lifted an inch from the desk, only moving when a gust of wind blew through the open window. Peter wondered if he was going to be this terrible at everything. He hoped not.

Chapter Text

Despite his desire to protest, Remus was enjoying Hogwarts. The wand his father had purchased with him at Diagon Alley (a ridiculous place both in name and nature, Remus thought) worked fine, even if it rubbed at the scar on his palm just a little every time he used it. Remus had managed to perform the beginner spells quite well, if he said so himself, and his Cure for Boils had been almost precisely the correct colour. He blamed the minor difference on Sirius.

His favourite was History of Magic. Professor Binns was a ghost, for goodness sakes, and no one else seemed to think that was incredible. Remus had been called a teacher’s pet for admiring the ghost’s dedication to teaching History of Magic even after death.

His friends found the theory subject tedious, and Sirius had leant over to ask who didn’t already know this stuff. Remus didn’t. He found every Goblin rebellion and wizarding duel fascinating, and the world he was in began to make sense.

A few conclusions had been drawn in the first week as Remus began to understand the wizarding world. The first was that there was an unspoken rule about house fraternisation. For first years, it seemed to be entirely forbidden, and while the older students may have a Hufflepuff study partner or a Ravenclaw girlfriend, Remus was yet to see anyone from the other houses even talk to a Slytherin.

James harboured a deep dislike for Slytherin House, and he’d spoken about the situation in their first Potions lesson non-stop. Remus didn’t really see the point of all the animosity. The Slytherins seemed freaky, and he knew about being freaky. Besides, the green robes were rather cool looking, not that Remus dared mention it.

His second conclusion was that Quidditch was essentially the wizard version of rugby. Remus didn’t understand the rules of the game from what he had heard, and he was far too afraid of a long explanation to ask. James and Sirius raved about it constantly, fawning over their favourite team (Puddle-something, rather pathetic sounding). Remus gritted his teeth every time he heard the phrase “Navy and gold ‘till I die!” from either of their mouths.

Peter wasn’t as keen, but he still chimed in with the occasional statistic or opinion. Even Marlene liked Quidditch. She wanted to play for the Kenmare Kestrels, James had said one afternoon, and was obsessed with the team. Remus had managed to endure all of Marlene’s rants about attack strategies and cup victories, but he wasn’t quite sure what a Quaffle was.

Marlene was Remus’ third conclusion. She was a girl, yet she was friends with boys. That had been the forbidden fraternisation at Remus’ primary school; boys hung out with boys and girls hung out with girls. Remus had no problem with girls, and Marlene acted rather like a boy anyway. She may have just been acting like a person. Remus hadn’t spent enough time with girls to know the difference, and he didn’t care that much to investigate the hypothesis.

There were a few other Gryffindor girls in their year, as well as the other boys dormitory. Remus understood that they were in some sort of rivalry with these boys, not that he knew any of their names. He didn’t know much of the girls’ names either. He knew Lily, the red headed girl from the train that he was not inclined to speak to again, and he knew the Black girl that hung around with Lily was called Mary.

That had been another of Remus’ conclusions. James and Mary both had deep brown skin, yet nobody at Hogwarts seemed to care. Remus hadn’t really seen anyone who wasn’t white before, not in his tiny village in Wales, but he knew that they weren’t treated kindly.

Hogwarts was different. All of the students seemed to be equal here, no matter where they came from or who they were. Another begrudging point added to Remus’ growing love of wizard school.

He wondered if they would treat him as well if they knew about his furry problem. There had been mentions of goblins and pixies, of unicorns and phoenixes, but no werewolves. Lycanthrope, that’s what Dumbledore had called him. It sounded better than werewolf, Remus thought.

Remus had met with McGonnagall and the school nurse after the welcome feast. Her name was Madam Pomfrey, and she was going to be taking care of Remus. She was a kind looking woman, around 40, and her chestnut coloured hair was just beginning to go grey. The robes she wore looked rather like an old nurse costume, and Remus tried not to chuckle at it.

Madam Pomfrey seemed well meaning enough. She had done a lot of research on lycanthropy, and she even had books that she wanted Remus to borrow on the subject. He had mumbled an awkward joke about being given homework on the first day, and his heart had felt strangely light when Madam Pomfrey laughed at it.

James and Sirius had been waiting outside the Gryffindor common room when he went up. They had asked him questions, but Remus felt rather sick. He had only been at Hogwarts a few hours and they were already going to find out. He mumbled an excuse about saying hello to someone for his father and followed them through the portrait. Remus did not sleep very well that night.

They didn’t bring it up again, and Remus felt rather silly for having prepared so many back up reasons in case his first one wasn't enough to convince them. He would tell them he had a made up Muggle illness, or that he had caught a disease from a rabid pet that scratched him up too. But James and Sirius were trusting boys, and they hadn’t asked again.

Remus wondered if he’d ever get used to lying.

***

The first full moon was on the eleventh, and Remus had a plan. He took longer to get up in the morning, making sure he looked tired. At lunch, he mentioned a stomach ache. By dinner, he was groaning and clutching his side. Peter even said he looked a little pale.

“I think I’ll go to the infirmary,” Remus mumbled, adding a wince. “It’s pretty bad, I might have to spend the night.”

“We’ll take you, mate,” James said, with a sympathetic look that made Remus feel just a little bit guilty. “We could say we’ve all got something, stay the night and bunk off tomorrow too!”

“Skipping lessons in the first week?” Peter looked pale. “We’ll fall behind– I’m already behind, I’ll fail, I–”

“It’s fine!”

Remus rose from the table, remembering to put an arm over his stomach and grimace. He waved off James’ worrying and traipsed away towards the infirmary. He knew the way; he’d looked at the orientation map they’d been given nearly a hundred times. But so close to the full moon, he could probably get there by scent alone. The smell of medicines and that awful antibacterial scent were so strong that he could almost taste them.

He could hear his own heartbeat, feel the blood running through his veins, smell every odour that had ever graced these itchy robes. The full moon heightened his senses, except his sight. His eyes had been a little blurry around the edges all day, and by the time he reached the infirmary, tunnel vision had set in. Whenever the transformation began, he lost colour vision too.

Madam Pomfrey was anxious. Remus could smell it as he sat on the hospital bed. She was picking up bottles and salves, placing them back down again in a huff. The sun was close to setting, surely he should be somewhere safe by now.

Where was somewhere safe? He had been assured that he would be nowhere near the other students when he transformed, that everyone would be safe. Remus wondered if Hogwarts had some sort of secret basement for its creatures, or if there was a silver plated shed waiting for him.

After Dumbledore’s visit, Remus had asked his father if his condition would be cured at Hogwarts. Prepared to be angry at Lyall for withholding a magical treatment simply because he disliked magic, Remus had only been disappointed to discover there was no cure. He would turn every month for the rest of his life.

A sharp pain jolted down his spine, and Remus sat up stick straight. Madam Pomfrey lifted her head from some sort of book, a look of concern on her face. He tried to wave her off, but she was growing more grey by the second.

He was going to transform, right in the middle of the infirmary. Everyone would know he was a dangerous beast. His new friends would want nothing to do with him, and he’d have to go home. Worse, they’d lock him up in some magical prison.

“We best get going,” Madam Pomfrey said softly, helping him to stand. “Now, hold on to me.”

Remus barely had time to nod. There was a sharp crack, and all of a sudden, they were outside. The cold wind threw overwhelming odours into Remus’ nostrils as Madam Pomfrey guided him down a dark passage. He wanted to ask what had just happened, but his bones were beginning to ache.

“Oh dear,” Madam Pomfrey whispered as Remus heard himself groan, patting his shoulder. “Apparating is a little jarring at first. You’re not even supposed to be able to Apparate on Hogwarts grounds, but I had Dumbledore lift the enchantments for you and me. We’ll leave earlier and walk here next time.”

“Where is here?”

They stepped out into a dark room. There was nothing in there except a small bed, nailed to the floor in case he tried to destroy it. Remus didn’t really destroy anything during his transformations, other than himself.

The room smelled damp and a little dusty, but Remus couldn’t detect that sickening silver stench of his home shed. Surely they had to have used silver, otherwise he could get out and hurt someone. His head hurt a little less though.

Remus sat on the bed as Madam Pomfrey continued fussing over him. She was stroking his hair, and making simpering little cooing noises that Remus hated. He didn’t need to be taken care of. He had done this by himself since he was five, he could do it.

“Now, when I’ve gone, you can remove your clothes so they don’t get torn up,” she said, patting his shoulder. “I suggest you stash them under the bed. Oh, you poor boy!”

“I’m not,” Remus grumbled, kicking his shoe off. “Stop worrying about me. I’m not your kid.”

Madam Pomfrey froze. She stood there, looking down at him with a look. Remus wanted her to shout at him, to just leave him alone, but that wasn’t the look. She looked sad, like he’d hurt her feelings, and Remus really wanted her to leave.

“I know,” she said in a quiet voice, her eyes soft and pitying.

He stood up, nearly eye level with her. He turned and began to pull his shirt off. The door closed, and her scent faded away as he finished undressing. Remus stuffed his clothes in a pile under the bed, feeling like a right fool as he sat there, naked and waiting.

The pain shot down his spine again, shooting out along each vertebrae until it reached his tailbone. He stood up quickly, only to fall to his knees as his bones began to crack. They broke and reformed as Remus watched in black and white. He wasn’t a boy now.

He was the wolf.

Chapter Text

Sirius was beginning to worry. He had been at Hogwarts, in Gryffindor House no less, for a fortnight and his parents hadn’t written once. He had half hoped that they didn’t know, but his ridiculous cousin Cissy had definitely written to them right away.

Initially, Sirius had awaited the Howler with baited breath. When it didn’t arrive, he had thought that such a loud display of unrest within the family wouldn’t be proper, in his parents’ eyes. No, they’d come to extract him quietly in the dead of night. He wouldn’t even have time to say goodbye before they sent him off to Beauxbatons.

But there was nothing. No letter, no surprise visit, no message passed through Cissa or one of their other pureblood pals (Sirius was certain he must be related to half the people there). His parents were silent, likely focusing on shaping Regulus into the Heir now that their first attempt had failed.

Not that Sirius cared. Regulus was an annoying little thing, and he hadn’t written either, so why should Sirius care what they did to him? He tried to ignore the feeling of guilt in his stomach each time he thought of Regulus all alone at Grimmauld Place.

A distraction was needed, and a few weeks into the term, it arrived.

The first Quidditch match of the year was between Gryffindor and Slytherin. It had been all that occupied Sirius’ conversations with James and Marlene. Even Peter joined in some times, and Sirius found himself enjoying the pudgy boy’s presence. He scolded himself for that thought. Peter really wasn’t that fat.

It quickly became apparent that Remus had no idea what Quidditch was. He always nodded along to their conversations, but he clearly didn’t know what they were talking about. Sirius had taken to throwing in false statements, even going so far as to invent an extra player called the Thrasher, and all the while Remus nodded along.

The four boys and Marlene filed into the bench seats, as close to the front as they could get without being threatened by some older students. James was bouncing in his seat, Marlene’s eyes were locked on the pitch, Peter’s brow was furrowed, and Remus was looking around for a good time to pull out the book in his bag.

Sirius leaned over to Remus, whispering in his ear. “There are seven players on a team. One Keeper, one Seeker, two Beaters, and three Chasers.”

“I-I know that,” Remus protested in an equally hushed tone, folding his arms.

“Oh, stop pretending and let me explain.” Sirius continued as Remus nodded reluctantly. “The Keeper protects the hoops so the opposite team can’t score. The Chasers throw the Quaffle –that’s the red ball– into the hoops to score points. With me so far?”

“Waffle, hoops, points, yep.”

Sirius chuckled. Remus couldn’t have looked more confused if he had tried. It was difficult for Sirius to imagine growing up without knowledge of magic, let alone Quidditch. Even locked in private tutoring lessons and family banquets, Sirius had managed to become a Quidditch fanatic. He and Regulus even shared a broom that he hadn’t been permitted to bring.

Perhaps Remus just didn’t like sports. Sirius hadn’t heard of any Muggle sports before, but he assumed that they had some equivalent of Quidditch. What else would they do? All Remus seemed to enjoy was reading, and Sirius couldn’t imagine just reading all the time.

But Remus was confusing for Sirius altogether. While Sirius was above average in most of his lessons, Remus excelled. It seemed impossible, to have grown up with no knowledge of magic at all and to suddenly best everyone at everything. Maybe it was all the reading he did, but something was off. Sirius would have to investigate further.

“The Beaters’ job,” Sirius continued, “is to use their bats to hit Bludgers at the opposition, to knock them off so they can’t score.”

“That’s bloody violent!” Remus gasped, waving awkwardly at the group of Hufflepuff girls in front that turned around at his outburst. “Oh, uhh, hello.”

The girls just shook their heads and turned back around. Sirius coughed to stifle his amusement, knowing that Remus probably didn’t want to be embarrassed further.

“Control yourself, Lupin. Now, the last player is the Seeker. They follow the Snitch, which is the golden ball with wings and it's terribly hard to see, and if they catch it, the game ends.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. And their team gets one hundred and fifty points.”

“Why don’t they all just look for the Snitz then?”

“Snitch, Lupin, come on. Only the Seeker can do that, it’s just the rules.”

“The rules are farcical,” Remus said quietly, under his breath like he didn’t intend for anyone to hear it.

Sirius laughed to himself, but said nothing. The teams were starting to come out now, walking out onto the pitch in their reds and greens. He fancied one of those uniforms for himself, but he didn’t dare try out until at least second year. The youngest player on the Gryffindor team now was Judi Seabright, a third year Chaser, and Sirius couldn’t see anyone younger on the Slytherin team.

He hadn’t even had a real flying lesson at Hogwarts. Father hadn’t let him bring his “heirloom” broom, so he’d have to use one of the school ones. James had brought his Nimbus 1500, and Sirius was extremely jealous. Most first years couldn’t convince their parents to allow them to bring their broomsticks to Hogwarts, the Blacks included. Sirius was rather going to like sharing James’ parents, if he’d meant it.

As the team captains shook hands, there was a scream from the Slytherin end of the pitch. All eyes flicked to the Slytherin students, sat on the benches in their green and silver. Only they weren’t wearing their house colours anymore.

Sirius watched his cousin Cissy’s platinum blonde locks turn a deep crimson. Her insufferable boyfriend Lucius’ hair was golden all of a sudden. First a few students began to shriek at their new hair colours, one by one, then more until all of the Slytherin supporters were sporting red and gold.

Doubling over with laughter, Sirius couldn’t contain himself. They all looked ridiculous, scrabbling about and clasping their heads in their hands. He didn’t know who had done this, but whoever it was, they were a genius.

“Why’ve they done that?” Peter asked as James slipped off the bench onto the floor of the bleachers, rolling about and giggling.

“They’ve not done it to themselves, Pettigrew,” Sirius chortled, bending over at the waist. He would join James on the floor soon if he couldn’t hold in his laughter. “It’s a prank! A bloody perfect prank!”

As if they had heard his praise, two brooms soared into the air. It was none of the Quidditch players, who stood befuddled on the pitch as Madam Hooch tried to contain the situation. It was two boys, lanky and pale with fiery ginger hair. From where Sirius was stood, gazing up at them, he couldn’t tell the difference between them. Twins, he concluded.

From their brooms, the boys waved down at the students in the stands as everyone cheered for them. Even some of the Slytherin students seemed amused, once they’d gotten over the shock.

“The Prewett twins are at it again,” chuckled a fifth year Ravenclaw girl who was snuggling with her Gryffindor boyfriend.

“Who are they?” Sirius asked her, fully turning around to look up at her.

He must have looked rather silly, but he wanted to know who these boys were, blowing down kisses at their sea of adoring fans. To change every Slytherin’s hair to red and gold had to be some impressive magic. Sirius wondered if they would teach him.

“Gideon and Fabian Prewett,” the girl’s boyfriend answered. “They’re pranksters. This is their first prank of the year, and it’s a pretty good one, I’ve gotta say.”

“Pretty good?!” James chimed in, turning around to stare up at the confused fifth years. “It’s incredible! I think it’s the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Join the fan club, kids,” said the Ravenclaw girl. “Nearly everyone around here worships the Prewett twins. McGonnagall lets them get away with everything– I bet they won’t even get detention for this.”

Sirius looked at James, sharing an expression of awe before casting his eyes on the sky. The Prewett twins were circling now, high fiving people and sticking their tongues out at disgruntled Slytherins. As one of them passed overhead, Sirius reached up, standing on the bench.

The high five felt electric, and Sirius almost vowed right there to never wash his hands again. Because he had been wrong. The Prewett twins weren’t geniuses: they were gods.

And Sirius wanted what they had.

Chapter Text

He hadn’t been able to think of anything except the Prewett twins all week. Gideon had high fived him and Sirius, and James’ hand still tingled whenever he thought of it. He could tell the twins apart now, after some careful observation.

James had been a little worried that knowing when their lessons were and watching them when they were chatting at mealtimes was a bit strange, but Sirius wanted to do it too. Gideon had a freckle just under his left eye that Fabian didn’t have, and Fabian had a slit in his right eyebrow that was impossibly cool. James planned on cutting one himself, as soon as he got his magic under control and could guarantee that he wouldn’t slice his eye instead.

It was a Saturday, and they were sitting in their dorm, all four boys. James and Sirius were sprawled on the floor, Peter was doing some homework in a green notebook, and Remus was reading. He was always reading.

James felt overwhelmingly bored. The Prewett twins were probably doing something way more fun than this. They probably had another prank planned, a prank that would blow everyone’s minds. He couldn’t wait.

“What do you think the Prewett twins have planned next?” he asked, lying his cheek against the brown carpet as he turned to look at Sirius.

Sirius perked up immediately, pushing himself up a little to rest his chin against his hand. He looked as though he was pondering, with that regal air he always had. It made James laugh every time, because Sirius looked a very sincere eleven year old.

Eventually, Sirius huffed. He lay down on his stomach, resting his cheek on the carpet to stare at James, echoing his position. They were well into October, but their dorm managed to be so warm that all you really wanted to do was lie on the floor. It was a miracle that they got their homework done.

“I give up,” Sirius said. “We’d never be able to predict it. They’re creative geniuses!”

“Revolutionaries,” James nodded.

“Savants!”

“Prank connoisseurs!”

“Oh, would you shush?” Remus grumbled, slamming his book shut in a rather threatening manner. “All you two want to talk about is the bloody Prewett twins! The prank was good, but there’s a million pranks in the world! Please, just get over it?”

Sirius sat upright, before scrambling to his feet. He pounced, jumping up onto Remus’ bed. James followed, but Peter stayed content on his own bed, working away. Sirius pushed Remus’ book out of his lap, and the red volume joined the pile on the floor. Remus didn’t exactly have a flair for organisation, but he looked scandalised at the action of having his book ripped from him by an excitable Sirius Black.

“Of course,” Sirius exclaimed. “Why didn’t we think of this sooner?”

Remus mumbled something under his breath that James couldn’t quite hear, because he was too busy catching onto what Sirius was suggesting. A stroke of genius, really. They had an untapped resource, a secret weapon.

Growing up in the Muggle world, without magic to prank people with, Remus had all the knowledge of Muggle pranks that Hogwarts had never seen. They could take those ideas, add a hex or two, and create something worthy of the Prewett twins’ approval.

James could imagine it now: their prank would go off with incredible success, and everyone would look to the Prewetts. They’d shrug, and say it wasn’t them. That would be when James and Sirius would stand up, take ownership, and become best friends with the Prewetts. Perhaps Gideon would high five him again. Perhaps James could high five them both.

“Remus Lupin, you are a treasure!” Sirius was practically bouncing up and down.

“Will you two just tell me what you’re telepathically communicating with each other?”

“What we’re saying, Lupin my boy,” James said, “is that you know all of the Muggle pranks that there are. We can use those pranks, with a magical twist of course, and then we’ll be like the Prewetts! Creative geniuses!”

“Revolutionaries!”

“Savants, prank connoisseurs, I get it,” Remus sighed, rubbing his temples as though he had two very annoying headaches. “Muggle pranks aren’t very good, you know. Just buckets of water over doors and whoopee cushions–”

“What cushions?” James blinked. “How are cushions a prank?”

“Whoopee cushions,” Remus sighed again, like this was all extremely bothersome for him. “They’re these little things you put on a chair, so when people sit down on it, it makes a… noise. Of flatulence.”

“Did you just refer to farting as flatulence?” James snorted, looking over at a less amused Sirius.

“Mother made us call it trumping,” he said in a very matter of fact manner.

James laughed so hard he fell off the bed.

***

The prank was perfect. The boys had done extensive research, more than they’d do for their homework to Remus’ annoyance. Peter was wary about getting caught, but managed to find the exact incantation that would make the sound ten times louder.

The problem they’d identified with whoopee cushions (James enjoyed just saying the word sometimes, it was so ridiculous) was that once the prank victim found it, it wasn’t all that funny anymore. So, the boys resolved to make it undetectable, removing the physical whoopee cushion altogether so that nobody would know the source of the sound.

They had chosen Slytherin as their targets of course. James had thrown himself into what his father described as ‘house rivalry’, treating it more like a war. He knew that the wizarding world was actually at war, but it didn’t seem as serious as the war against Slytherin.

They arrived at breakfast early, when no one else was in the hall except a few seventh years who already looked stressed for their NEWTs, even though they were months away. James wouldn’t be that stressed when he did his NEWTs; he was already doing well with minimal effort, so why bother?

It took a while for any Slytherins to arrive. Much to their growing irritation, the boys were joined by a scatter of Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws but no Slytherins yet. James began to worry that they somehow knew about the prank already.

Then, Snape arrived, the perfect first target. James had disliked Severus Snape ever since Peter had accidentally shot a snake fang at him, and Snape had completely overreacted. James would’ve hexed him, if he’d known any hexes at the time. Severus Snape was a slimy little worm, who seemed to think he was already better than everyone at eleven years old. Even James wasn’t that proud.

Snape had a little gang with him, like he always did. Mulciber seemed to be his best friend, a giant oaf that made Snape look even punier than he already was. The boys waited for them to sit, holding their breath. Snape flicked his cloak out behind him, lowering himself onto the bench.

PFFFFFFFT!

The sound was loud, echoing off the walls of the Great Hall as Snape turned an ugly shade of purple. He stood up, and looked about. Not using a physical whoopee cushion had been a good idea, because once Snape found nothing, he sat down again.

The farting sound that followed was slightly squelchy, as though Snape had just relieved himself. A frowning Mulciber joined him on the bench, jerking up like he had been electrocuted when a loud sound erupted from beneath him.

More and more Slytherins filed in, jolting and gasping when a thunderous fart followed their sitting. The entire Great Hall was laughing, and a first year Hufflepuff slipped off her seat onto the floor, curling up into a giggling ball. A few Slytherins looked for the source of the sound, finding nothing.

The best was when Sirius’ cousin Narcissa sat down. James felt Sirius tense up beside him as she entered with her boyfriend Lucius. James didn’t like that they had matching hair. Narcissa gracefully sat down with elegance and poise.

PFFFFFFFT!

Sirius shrieked with laughter, his pale face flushed pink. Peter choked on his pumpkin juice. James wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. Even Remus was laughing now, watching Narcissa’s scowl.

Everyone seemed to be looking at the Prewett twins, and James sat up very straight. The two ginger boys simply shrugged as someone congratulated them on their excellent prank.

“Sorry, mate,” said Gideon, with the freckle under his left eye.

“Wasn’t us,” said Fabian, with the cool slit in his right eyebrow.

James was practically bouncing in his seat at this point, and Sirius was equally excited. Remus rolled his eyes, mumbling under his breath again, just a little too quiet for James to catch it.

“It was us!” Sirius blurted out, which was not the cool way they had planned.

But then, the Prewett twins were looking at them and James couldn’t help but join in Sirius’ rambling explanation of how Remus had come up with the Muggle idea and how they’d managed to make it so no one would be able to find out why it was happening.

James waited for the praise and approval of the Prewett twins. All they got was a smile before they realised Professor McGonnagall had heard the entire thing. But detention for a week was worth it.

Chapter Text

The whoopee cushion prank had been more than successful. Despite giving them detentions, McGonnagall hadn’t made them remove the charm until the evening. This meant two more mealtimes of Slytherins farting each time they slightly lifted from the bench. At dinner, they’d all just sat on the floor.

Peter wondered why none of them had realised that once they were sat down, the farting would stop. If they’d just sat still instead of getting up and down all the time, they would’ve been perfectly fine. He was starting to wonder if none of the Slytherins had been blessed with common sense.

Everyone had been shocked to hear that the Prewett twins weren’t behind it. Initially, no one believed the boys when they said they were responsible, not thinking that a few first years had it in them. Once James and Sirius had rambled off their explanation, the Prewett twins had said they were good competition. They had practically died on the spot.

As a result, the boys were getting a lot of attention. Most of it was focused on James and Sirius, because they were basking in it, winking and smirking at people. Peter had even seen James shoot finger guns at someone, while Sirius kept trying to toss his too-short hair, like the twins would with their long mops.

Peter didn’t mind that he got less attention. He didn’t think he’d be able to stand being stared at all the time, and the thought of people talking about him when he wasn’t there made him feel slightly ill. It shouldn’t be allowed, in Peter’s opinion, to perceive someone when they weren’t aware of it.

Remus didn’t seem like he cared about the attention either. He had refused to own up to the prank, somehow managing to get out of detention altogether. Peter had stuck by his best friend and cleaned the cauldrons with James and Sirius.

Peter wasn’t sure if he liked Sirius. Remus was alright, because he was rather quiet and spent most of his time reading. He always helped Peter with his homework too. Sirius wanted to spend most of his time with James, and they were always wrestling around in the dorm or using Wingardium Leviosa to toss balls of paper at each other. Peter wasn’t jealous, exactly, but Sirius was taking some getting used to.

He had already accidentally used several more slurs and stereotypes since his first slip up on the train, but after a gentle explanation from James, he never repeated them. Sirius was trying, Peter concluded, and that was good enough for someone who had grown up with the Blacks.

It was difficult for Peter to imagine, growing up with such a family. His parents weren’t as active in the war as the Potters, but they had taught him to treat everyone equally. Peter didn’t understand blood purism anyway. Everyone’s blood was the same, no matter where it came from.

He wondered if Sirius was an only child. That would explain his indoctrination into his parents’ beliefs, because a family like the Blacks would need to secure their line. Peter was a middle child, which allowed him to blend into the background when he pleased.

His older brother Paul was seventeen, and refused to do his NEWTs. He’d ran away to Hungary to study dragons, though Peter doubted there was much studying going on. Paul liked adventure and this was just another adventure.

Peter’s younger sister Penny was only eight, and she had very little control over her magic. It stressed their parents out a lot, and combined with Paul’s taking off, Peter didn’t think they spared much thought as to whether his insect obsession was over yet.

No matter how hard he tried, Peter couldn’t picture his parents calling Muggleborns slurs or talking about blood purity. He couldn’t imagine growing up how Sirius had. Peter decided to give Sirius a little more patience.

***

Friday 29th October 1971

Halloween was approaching, and Peter had many questions. He had asked them to different people, spread out over a week so as to not raise suspicion. He wasn’t really sure what he thought people were going to be suspicious of, but he would air on the side of caution nonetheless.

His questions had been answered, and now he knew: costumes were not mandatory or expected, lessons were cancelled on Monday 1st September because everyone would be too tired (Peter wasn’t sure what about Halloween was particularly tiring), and though sweets would be served at the feast, there would be no trick or treating.

Peter liked to be prepared, and asking lots of questions had covered all of his bases. He had heard that Hufflepuff was throwing a party, but it was only for the older years. He hoped that didn’t mean that Gryffindor students would come staggering back into the tower at all hours. Peter was a light sleeper.

“What do Muggles do for Halloween, Lupin?” James asked, looking up from his Transfiguration work.

Remus didn’t lift his eyes from his parchment as he took rigorous notes on McGonnagall’s lecturing. He was always very focused in the lessons, never wanting to talk or misbehave like James and Sirius did. Peter didn’t either, but he couldn’t help looking up to listen in.

“Normal stuff,” Remus said, still scribbling away. “Kids dress up and go trick or treating, teenagers get pissed, my dad complains about the noise in the village. I prefer Christmas, really. Except, last Halloween, there was this old lady giving out full size Kit-Kats and Caramacs. I got sick after that.”

“Giving out what?” Sirius blinked, fully turning around from the desk in front.

Peter waited for McGonnagall to tell him off and give them more detention, but she was drawing some sort of diagram on the board. He knew he should copy it down, but Remus had already drawn an accurate replica, and he always let Peter borrow his notes.

Remus was starting to grow on Peter, who usually didn’t like new people. Remus was clever, but he didn’t brag about it like James and Sirius would sometimes. He was very hard working and he didn’t make Peter feel silly for not being able to do certain things. Best of all, Remus appreciated quietness in a way that Sirius and James never did.

“Kit-Kats and Caramacs,” Remus repeated, not even looking at Sirius. “They’re Muggle chocolate bars. Kit-Kats have wafers in them, and Caramacs are creamy with, well, caramel. Have you seriously never had a chocolate bar before?”

“I’ve had a chocolate frog,” James shrugged as Peter and Sirius shook their heads.

Bramblewick, the village where Marlene and Peter lived, didn’t have any Muggles. It was a small village, composed solely of wizarding families and magical shops. Peter hadn’t really considered that Muggles would have such different lives. He often imagined them as having magical things that just didn’t act in magical ways, like chocolate frogs that didn’t jump.

Remus had lived a strange life. Muggleborns lived without magic simply because they had no knowledge of it, but Remus was a wizard, at least a halfblood if not a pureblood. They hadn’t quite got on to discussing heritage yet, too afraid of what purist spiel Sirius might casually use next. Remus could’ve had magic in his life, but for some reason he didn’t. That confused Peter a great deal.

“Just to clarify, none of you have ever had a chocolate bar?” Remus was sitting up now, looking between them with a furrowed brow.

All three boys shook their heads. Remus began to mutter under his breath, as though working out a problem in his head. Peter couldn’t see what was so confusing about their lack of chocolate bar eating. Surely it didn’t taste much different in bar form.

“And would you say that goes for most wizards?” Remus asked, looking at James.

“All of the purebloods at least,” James nodded. “You’ve got me interested now. What, I’d do for a Kat-Kat!”

Remus muttered something else quietly as McGonnagall finished the lesson. James and Sirius hadn’t heard him, but Peter had. As they packed their things away and went off to Charms, Peter began to wonder what Remus had meant when he said:

“And I wonder how much you’d pay.”

Chapter Text

Sunday 31st October 1971

The operation had been very easy to set up. Remus already had a lot of chocolate in his trunk, because he couldn’t really function without a little sweet treat. They were also reminders of home, a comforting richness in the confusing world he was in.

He had written to his father to ask for more chocolate bars, different kinds, making something up about sharing with his friends. It wasn’t a complete lie; he would be sharing the chocolate bars, just not for free. Hopefully, Lyall wouldn’t ask any questions.

In their last Transfiguration lesson, James had accidentally helped Remus stumble upon an untapped market. Wizards had no knowledge of the world Remus had grown up in, the Muggle world. If Sirius and James’ interest was anything to go by, he had stumbled upon a gold mine.

Remus didn’t know when it had started, but he rather enjoyed making money. There weren’t many ways to do it in their small village, but Remus had managed quite well.

In his earlier years of primary school, he had simply swapped his snacks for others by exaggerating how nice carrot sticks were. Later on, he would do anyone’s spelling homework for them, as long as they gave him 50p for doing it. He had managed to change his handwriting enough for it to be a largely undetectable and successful scheme.

And now he had another one: sweets. Halloween was the perfect time. He planned to start with the trusting younger years, and then to ambush any drunk party goers returning from the Hufflepuff party. Remus had found that drunk people were often more inclined to let you keep the change, something he’d learned from running to the corner shop for the patrons of his local pub.

Remus had built a customer base the previous day. He had offered a few of his lower value chocolate bars (plain Cadbury Dairy Milk bars mostly) to a few students for just a Knut. He had watched their excitement as they tasted the foreign treat. He had jokingly reminded them to tell their friends.

They had.

He set up camp in the Gryffindor common room while Sirius and James were serving detention for “accidentally” tripping Snape up twelve consecutive times in a single Potions lesson. If it had been Remus, he would’ve done it in Charms or History of Magic. Any lesson not taught by Snape’s head of year.

Peter was busy in their dorm with their latest Transfiguration assignment, and Remus was confident that he wouldn't be resurfacing. That was good: Remus didn’t want to share any of his profits.

Making money made Remus feel in control, a rare sensation for the boy. He wasn’t exploiting people, not really, especially if they were willing to pay double the market price. He was helping these students, allowing them to taste the wonders of Muggle chocolate. He was a philanthropist really.

He had done a few conversions, and had calculated his prices accordingly. A two pence Mars bar was now five Knuts, nearly double the price. Remus had to make his profit somewhere. Besides, he’d use it to buy wonderful Christmas presents for his father and his friends. Sirius’ birthday was soon too, and Remus wasn’t entirely sure what he would like.

Sirius was confusing. He was extremely posh, sounding like someone from the royal family, and everything he said sounded straight out of a book. He also managed to say a lot of the wrong things, judging from the amount of “talks” he’s had with James. Remus didn’t mind; it actually helped him to figure out more about the world.

Perhaps he could give Sirius chocolate for his birthday. Remus would love chocolate for any occasion, and he already had a plentiful supply to share with Sirius. He wouldn’t charge him, of course.

“Excuse me, are you Remus Lupin?”

Remus looked up to see a wide eyed second year stood next to him. It felt strange that his first customer was older than him, but perhaps he had underestimated the success of his plan.

Wordlessly, he opened the box on his lap, placing it on the table typically used for chess. He’d chosen to sit in the corner of the common room, because he didn’t think Professor McGonnagall would approve of his operations that much.

The girl looked over the shiny wrappers, and she didn’t even question the inky marks where Remus had crossed out the Muggle prices. Her eyes were like saucers as she looked over her options, and Remus could smell the metallic coins in her hand.

“I’ve never had Muggle chocolate before,” she said, hand twitching. “What’s best?”

“What do you like?” Remus smirked.

He was in business.

***

By the time he went to bed, Remus’ box was empty of chocolate bars and full of coins. It was rather too heavy to carry, and he made sure to stash it right under his bed where no one would find it. Not that any of his dormmates seemed to need money. Remus didn’t exactly need the amount of money he’d made in one night, but the sheer knowledge that he could do it had him buzzing.

He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He wondered if he was supposed to feel a little guilty at this point. He had increased his prices with every new customer, claiming “supply and demand” if anyone inquired as to why the Caramacs were suddenly two Sickles.

The drunk older students had been his best customers. He’d even managed to fool a few Muggleborns, who seemed overwhelmingly confused as to why they were paying so much for a Kit-Kat, but did so nonetheless.

Remus wondered how he could expand his operation. He could move into crisps maybe, or other Muggle goods. A rather inebriated-looking sixth year had threatened him about moving into the cigarette and booze market, which he had apparently claimed for himself in his third year. Remus assured the boy that his business was secure; he couldn’t convince his dad to post him cigarettes.

A dramatic slam of the door signalled James and Sirius’ return from detention. The Hogwarts staff seemed intent on having detentions at night, and Remus was sure that it violated some regulations. He had managed to dodge detention after the whoopee cushion prank, and he wasn’t keen to have one.

All in all, Remus was doing far better at Hogwarts than he had anticipated. At primary school, he had done decently well. Here, Remus was top of the class in most lessons, and he had a rather profitable business. Even if he was terrible at flying, Remus’ first two months at Hogwarts were going well.

The October full moon had gone better than the first too, as Madam Pomfrey had got him into the Shack before the sun set. There was a complicated array of tunnels to get there, as well as batting the Whomping Willow, but Remus would walk miles if he never had to Apparate again.

“Lupin, you awake?”

Sirius didn’t wait for confirmation. He pulled back Remus’ bed curtains, standing over him with a smirk. Remus hated when Sirius smirked, like he knew something that Remus didn’t. He slid further under his covers.

“What?” Remus grumbled, pulling the duvet up to his chin. “Come to watch me sleep? Bloody poof.”

“I’ve simply come to ask why there’s a very drunk group of seventh year girls asking for you,” Sirius whispered, sitting on Remus’ bed as though he had the right. “Never pegged you as a Casanova, Lupin, but it seems like you're a right ladies man.”

“Shut up,” Remus hissed, rolling over so he didn’t have to see Sirius’ stupid smirk anymore. “Tell them I’m out of stock and to come back in a few days.”

“Out of what?”

“Not telling you.”

Sirius huffed as he stood up. Remus listened, waiting for him to close the bed curtains so Remus could go back to his scheming in peace. He didn’t.

Remus rolled over, looking up at Sirius. “Why are you standing over me like that? It’s creepy!”

“Because I want to know what you’re up to,” Sirius pouted, looking as though he was going to sit back on Remus’ bed before Remus scowled at him. “We’re supposed to be mates, Lupin. You can’t go around having secrets.”

“If only you knew,” Remus muttered under his breath.

Sirius frowned, and for a moment, Remus thought he was going to call him out. He didn’t know what he would do if someone actually asked him about his secret, if he’d be able to come up with a lie on the spot. His new friends were observant boys, but surely they hadn’t caught him out after two months!

Clearing his throat, Remus attempted to change the subject. “Why do you all call me Lupin anyway? Don’t you wizards use first names?”

“I don’t know,” Sirius said, looking as though he was really pondering it. “Guess it’s just a friend thing, only I call Snape by his last name too. Huh. Maybe it is a wizard thing.”

“Well, when you have an answer, you can tell me in the morning,” Remus sighed, lying back down in bed. “Until then, shut the curtains and let me sleep.”

“Goodnight, Remus.”

“‘M not saying goodnight back, you freak,” Remus huffed, closing his eyes.

Chapter Text

Wednesday 3rd November 1971

He knew it had been too good to be true. Sirius inwardly cursed himself that he had ever dared to wonder why his parents hadn’t sent him a letter or any kind of correspondence since he had been at Hogwarts. He should’ve just been grateful for their silence.

Hogwarts seemed to be an oasis, where his family’s teachings couldn’t touch him. Sirius had already had to unlearn many words that he hadn’t known were slurs or insults, and he was fully welcomed into Gryffindor house by now. People had even stopped referring to him as the Black Heir. At Hogwarts, Sirius could just be Sirius.

His birthday had been good to start with. James had gifted him a Beatles album after discovering Sirius’ obsession with Muggle music, caused by his cousin Andromeda, a fellow Black family black sheep. Remus and Peter had given him an array of Muggle chocolates to try. Although Sirius suspected Remus had done most of the purchasing, he was still grateful and thanked them both.

At breakfast, an owl had dropped the envelope into his lap. Remus received several packages wrapped in brown paper, much to the delight of a group of third year Hufflepuffs who were already trying to talk to him. Remus’ cheeks had turned quite pink.

Sirius looked at the letter, eyes trailing over the sloping cursive letters in deep black ink. He knew who it was from, and there was no way that he was opening it in front of anyone. James raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Sirius slid the letter into the pocket of his robes.

He didn’t really fancy breakfast after that. Remus was more than happy to scoop the remainder of Sirius’ eggs off his plate; the boy ate like some sort of animal. Hogwarts food wasn’t excellent, and Sirius was sorely missing the Halloween feast, but Remus would vacuum up anything that graced his plate.

As they trailed off to lessons, James walked with Sirius. They were hanging back a little as Remus and Peter walked ahead, determined to get to Defence Against the Dark Arts on time. Remus was always a little bit of a swot, but he seemed to have taken Peter under his wing. Sirius would have to start trying in his lessons now, unable to just get by on his years of tutoring.

James bumped his shoulder against Sirius’, causing him to look up. Sirius immediately wished he hadn’t. James had a soft sort of look on his face, like he wanted to talk about feelings.

“Who’s the letter from, mate?”

“No one,” Sirius mumbled, kicking his shoe against the ground and almost tripping over a cobblestone. “I haven’t opened it yet, how would I know who it’s from? It’s probably just a birthday card, from one of our adoring fans or someone.”

“Sirius,” James said, managing to pack a lot of meaning into the single word.

James was too nice. Sirius hadn’t minded being stroppy at home with Regulus, because he was also a whiny little prick. Perhaps it was a Black family trait. James always wanted to talk about reasons behind why Sirius was feeling something, and he’d managed to pick up on Sirius’ distrust for his family’s practices almost immediately.

He couldn’t lie to James. He hadn’t tried it yet, but each time he thought about it, Sirius couldn’t imagine himself lying. James would probably believe him too, the trusting idiot. He understood Sirius too well, always knowing when to joke or when to be serious. James was his best friend, Sirius thought in that moment, and best friends told the truth.

“It’s from my mother,” Sirius said quietly as they sat down in the DADA classroom. “She writes her B’s in this fancy way, gives them a tail.”

James nodded, somehow sensing that Sirius didn’t really want to explain much now. “Well, we’ve got a free period next. Lupin wants to drag Peter to the library so they can work on the Potions homework, so you’ll have the dorm to yourself if you want to read the letter. Then we can talk about it, or not talk about it, whichever you like. It’s your birthday after all.”

“You’re too emotionally intelligent, Potter,” Sirius smiled, shaking his head. “The girls will be all over you when they catch wind of your incredible empathy.”

“Tosser.” James kicked Sirius’ shin under the table, and all was well again.

***

Only it really wasn’t. Sirius sat on his bed, curtains drawn. He’d read the letter ten times already, and if he read it again, he might be sick. But he couldn’t stop his eyes from trailing over his mother’s familiar script once more.

Dear Sirius Orion Black,

Your father and I have been informed of your sorting into Gryffindor House. We have also been informed that you, the Heir to our Noble House, have done nothing to correct this obvious mistake. You were raised to be proactive, to take control of the situation.
Do you enjoy it there? Sleeping next to Mudbloods and blood traitors? You should know that there will be nothing arranged for your birthday this year, and we hope that you are gifted intelligence by some divine force.
This behaviour must improve, Sirius. You are now twelve years of age, not a child. If you wish to come home for Christmas and see your brother, I trust that you will be in your correct house by December.

Walburga Black.

She had exploited every angle. Bringing up Regulus, mentioning that Sirius might not be able to see his own brother, it was all a twisted power move and Sirius knew it. He also knew he was powerless to stop it.

Sirius didn’t realise he was crying until a tear dropped onto the parchment, blurring the black ink of the word brother. His bed curtains shifted a bit as James went to open them, then stopped.

“Can I come in, mate?” came James’ voice. His stupid kind voice. “You’ve been in there an awful long time, and well, I can hear you sniffling.”

“Fuck off, Potter.” Sirius wiped his nose on the back of his hand as he pushed open the curtains with the other.

James looked rather distraught too, his glasses slightly fogged up. He sat down opposite Sirius on his bed, folding his hands in his lap.

Unsure as to why he wanted James to read it so badly, Sirius tossed the letter to him, trading it for a handkerchief. As Sirius wiped his eyes and blew his nose loudly, he watched the horror spread across James’ usually happy features. There was silence in the dorm as James read until he folded the letter in half with great fervour.

“What a bitch,” he said with a frown.

Surprised, Sirius snorted out a wet laugh. James’ bronze skin turned pink and his hand shot to cover his mouth. Only, he was laughing too.

“Shit, sorry,” he coughed. “I know she’s your mum, but come on! Bringing your brother into it, threatening you– she’s a massive bitch! She used your full name, and hers too, like she didn’t literally birth you!”

Sirius was cackling at this point. He didn’t even notice when the letter flew off the bed, floating in the air for a brief moment before landing on the floor. Where it belonged, Sirius thought, before he could return it to its true home in the bin.

“I’ll cheer you up, mate,” James said, removing his glasses to wipe his tears of laughter. “You can’t be mopey and sad on your birthday! A good prank will sort you out, and I think we ought to get back at Flitwick.”

“For what?” Sirius wheezed, his sides beginning to hurt from this much laughter.

“Ravenclaw may not be our rival house, but we can’t let anyone doubt that Gryffindor is on top!”

James followed this declaration by standing up and jumping on Sirius’ bed while chanting, “We are Gryffindor, the mighty, mighty Gryffindor!” He looked as though he was having so much fun that Sirius couldn’t help but start jumping and chanting along with him.

That was the moment that Remus and Peter came back from the library. The shock on their faces (and disappointment in Remus’ case) were enough to send James and Sirius collapsing into another fit of giggles.

***

The prank was James’ idea, but they were entirely reliant on Remus’ knowledge. He had read a ridiculous amount of books in their first few months at Hogwarts, and could somehow recall nearly anything he’d seen. Bloody swot.

Gathering the frogs up had been the hard part. Flitwick kept the choir frogs along with the other creatures, most owned by the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Professor Dresden. It would’ve been impossible for the boys to sneak all of the choir frogs out without disturbing the other creatures and alerting Dresden.

That was when James had pulled out the most incredible thing Sirius had ever seen. A real Invisibility Cloak. Not some cheap knock off with illusion charms cast on it, the real thing! When James had put it on, he had completely vanished and there wasn’t even a shadow to signal that he was there at all. Remus’ jaw had dropped so suddenly that it practically unhinged.

All four of them could fit beneath it, yet Peter chose to stand as look out. Or rather, Sirius had told him to. They couldn’t risk someone coming in and seeing an arm floating in the middle of the room, pinching the choir frogs. It would scar that person for life, or at least get James’ Invisibility Cloak taken away.

They managed to get the frogs under the cloak with little effort, but Remus cast a silencing charm after a few minutes because he couldn’t deal with all the croaking. Peter walked back to the dorm, seemingly by himself, while Sirius and the others giggled under the cloak, holding frog cages.

Once they were in the dorm, they placed the three carriers onto Peter’s bed, despite his protests. There were six frogs in each, one for each member of the Hogwarts choir. James and Sirius bounced up and down while Remus prepared to cast the spell.

“What are we making them sing then?” he sighed, reading over his notes on the incantation. “I have to specify when I cast the spell.”

“Well, we’re cheering up Sirius,” James said, tapping his chin. “The Beatles! That’s what I bought you, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, Abbey Road!” Sirius clasped his hands together in a begging motion. “Make them sing Abbey Road, Remus!”

Rolling his eyes and muttering under his breath, Remus turned towards the frogs. He took a deep breath, as though he couldn’t really believe they’d convinced him to do this. Then, he waved his wands over the frogs, who were hopping over one another obliviously.

“Solum Cantare Abbey Road!”

At first, there was nothing. Then, one of the frogs began to sing Come Together in a baritone, and soon all of them had joined in. Sirius couldn’t help but burst out laughing, squeezing James’ side.

“This is the best birthday present ever!”

It was the gift that kept on giving. They released the frogs into Hogwarts, and soon they were everywhere. Somehow, they all managed to keep in time no matter where in the castle they’d gotten to, going through the Abbey Road album in order and then starting again from the top.

It took Flitwick and the choir students hours to wrangle them all up, and Sirius had heard every song at least four times by then. I Want You (She’s So Heavy) was his favourite, because the guitar made him want to dance in that ridiculous way Ted had when Andromeda first bought this album. Sirius had begged her to let him keep it, but Andromeda was territorial of her records. Now, thanks to James, he had his own copy and the frog version.

Best of all, Sirius had seen Gideon Prewett dancing wildly to Octopus’s Garden, swinging his hips and waving his arms about. It was an exhilarating feeling to witness him enjoying their prank. Gideon noticed Sirius, waving him over.

“This you lot?” he asked.

Sirius couldn’t stop nodding. “Yeah, it was us! I love the Beatles!”

“Me too. Don’t worry, I won’t tell McGonnagall it was you.” Gideon winked over his shoulder as he walked away.

It felt as though electricity was running through Sirius’ body. The entire day had been overwhelming, his most overwhelming birthday yet, but interacting with Gideon Prewett had sealed the deal. It was the best birthday ever.

Chapter Text

Sunday 14th November 1971

“We need a team name,” Sirius said, breaking the silence in the dormitory.

James lifted his head from where he had been attempting a History of Magic essay for the past hour. It wasn’t difficult, not really, but he found the subject impossibly boring. He was also too proud to ask for Remus’ help, unlike Peter and Sirius.

The two boys were almost solely reliant on Remus for their school work, always borrowing his notes and asking him to estimate what mark they would get for their essays. Remus didn’t seem to mind too much, but he was always muttering something under his breath. James was yet to catch a word.

“A team name?” Remus sighed, lifting his head from his book.

He was always sighing about something. Remus reminded James of Fleamont Potter, who was always complaining about his bones aching or his back hurting. James found it funny, but he didn’t like to think about how much older his parents were than Peter’s or Marlene’s were.

Now, Remus looked burdened to have his reading disrupted. Recreational reading. James had no idea why someone would torture themselves with more reading than was required. He had read all of the assigned texts, of course, but he wouldn’t pick up a book for fun. He had Quidditch for that.

“Well, we’ve done two pranks now,” Sirius said, sitting upright on his bed. “People ought to have something to call us, so they know who’s done it.”

“They could just call us our names,” Peter suggested, clearly trying to be helpful.

James stood up from the floor, his preferred working space, dusting off his robes. They really ought to pick up their things so that the house elves could properly clean the carpet. Remus was the messiest of them all.

Crossing the room, James joined Sirius on his bed. Originally, he’d thought that he wouldn’t much like someone being on his bed, in his space. But, since the letter had arrived from Sirius’ mother, he went in Sirius’ bed most evenings to talk, or Sirius came into his. They had talked about nearly everything, and James felt as though he knew Sirius better than anyone else had ever known the boy.

“I agree with Sirius,” James said. “If it’s Gideon and Fabian, people can say it was the Prewett twins. Saying James, Sirius, Peter and Remus just takes too much time. We need a team name.”

“If I’m going to be associated with this ‘team’,” Remus said, making air quotes. “It better be called something cool. Nothing that makes us sound like posh twats.”

“You’re not a posh twat, Remus, you have an accent,” Sirius smirked, earning a middle finger from Remus. “Now, it should be something like the Beatles, and it has to show our excellent pranking abilities. Something dangerous. Like the Pirates!”

“No chance,” said Remus, looking physically pained at the prospect.

“The Buccaneers?” James suggested.

“Nope.”

“The Bandits?” Sirius tried.

“How many bloody synonyms do you know?”

“How about the Marauders?” Peter said quietly, like he wasn’t quite sure if he’d given the right answer.

“That’s… actually not bad,” Remus hummed, returning to his reading seemingly satisfied.

“It’s cool!” James nodded.

He stood from the bed, pacing. The Marauders. It sounded like a band name, like Sirius had said. It made them sound cool, dangerous even. James wondered if they should all get matching t-shirts with The Marauders on them, but he didn’t suggest it.

“We should get t-shirts,” Sirius said.

“I just thought that!”

***

Saturday 20th November 1971

The Gryffindor Quidditch team was phenomenal. James had been to see Puddlemere United a few times with his dad, and he thought that the Gryffindor team were almost as good. They’d be even better if he was on the team.

James had been flying since he could walk, zig-zagging around the Potter estate. Despite Peter and Marlene’s dramatic recollection, he had only sort of flown into a tree, and it had only been one time. He could do all sorts of tricks, and he could beat anyone in a race.

He had already missed the try outs in October, knowing that they wouldn’t let a first year onto the team. There hadn’t been a first year student on any Quidditch team for years. James had planned to try his luck next year. He watched every practice and every match, even the Ravenclaw vs Hufflepuff ones.

Every weekend he would train for when he had his time to shine. He was going to be Quidditch Captain by the time he finished Hogwarts, he just knew it. He was also going to be the best Chaser they’d ever seen.

Today, he’d gone out onto the Quidditch pitch just a little earlier than usual, assuming no one would be awake yet. He liked waking up before everyone else, before the other Marauders had even begun to stir.

He was faced with the sight of the Gryffindor team running drills, observed by Quidditch Captain Bodhi Rune and Professor McGonnagall. So, he wasn’t alone afterall. James felt a sense of pride that the team all woke up as early as he did. It was like he was already part of the team.

The drill seemed simple enough, just flying about and tossing the Quaffle back and forth. Watching for a few moments, James concluded that he could do it in his sleep.

That was when James had a very bad idea. Though he knew it was a bad idea, James did what he always did when he thought of doing something he probably shouldn’t: he imagined his mum telling him off. Like always, it wasn’t scary enough and James did it anyway.

His Nimbus 1500 soared into the air, joining the players already in the sky. He was faster than all of them, more agile too. After they got over their initial surprise, the other players seemed impressed with James’ skill.

He couldn’t resist showing off. He’d learnt a trick over the summer, a complicated mix of rolls and turns and dives patented by the Puddlemere United Chaser. James had done it a million times until he perfected it, and then a million more after that. Marlene and Peter had gotten quite annoyed.

Breathing deeply, James began the sequence. He knew it like the back of his hand, could do it with his eyes closed. The sounds of surprise and approval from the players only spurred him on, and he began to spin even faster.

Next was a dive, spiralling downward until at the last moment he pulled up. James’ ego inflated as he heard someone gasp. He began to flip over, spinning rapidly.

He must’ve miscalculated by a foot or two, because James managed to fly headfirst into the stands, coming to a thudding halt as he hit his head against the bench.

“Mr Potter!”

“Oh fuck,” James breathed. McGonnagall was coming for him.

***

James had only been given detention for the day, after a lot of scolding from McGonnagall. All day, he waited for the true punishment. She was making him sweat, he knew it.

He wondered if she would take away his broom. There had to be rules against that. His Nimbus 1500 was his pride and joy, a gift from his parents last Christmas. He polished it every Sunday, and it looked brand new. It was the fastest broom on the market too, and the thought of McGonnagall snatching it away made James feel sick.

The other Marauders had found the story hilarious. It was potentially the first time James had ever seen Remus belly laugh, right before he called him an egotistical prat. Peter had managed to spill ink all over his Charms homework. James didn’t find it funny at all.

At dinner, he could barely eat. James kept looking up at the teachers’ table, and every time, McGonnagall was looking at him. She’d whisper to another teacher and James would look right back down at his plate.

“Come on, mate,” Sirius said, bumping his shoulder against James’. “We’re sorry for laughing, we really are.”

“It’s not that,” James whined, not caring that his ‘woe is me’ attitude was amusing Remus severely. “I just know she’s got something else up her sleeve. Getting bollocked and one detention is not McGonnagall style.”

“‘Course it is, she bollocks us all the time,” said Remus, who had given up on not taking ownership for their pranks and therefore begun to experience McGonnagall’s wrath.

“But she’s hiding something!”

James’ outburst earned him a few startled looks from the Gryffindor table, including from Marlene. James hadn’t seen Marlene much recently. She’d been spending less time with James and Peter and more time with the other Gryffindor girls. She still joined him on a fly every Sunday, because she was the only other person awake when James got up, but it felt as though they were drifting apart.

He couldn’t wait for Christmas. Like always, it would be just him, Peter and Marlene. They’d have a snowman building contest, and Marlene would win again because they always got James’ mom to judge and she liked Marlene the most.

A hush fell over the Great Hall as Dumbledore stood up. All eyes turned towards the teachers’ table, but James was just glad that it wasn’t McGonnagall, ready to deliver his public punishment.

“I have some news surrounding a new rule,” Dumbledore began in his austere voice. “Due to a variety of incidents, we have concluded that first years will no longer be permitted to bring their own brooms to Hogwarts after Christmas.”

“Shit,” James breathed.

“Please post your broomsticks home, or take them with you at Christmas break. Starting from tomorrow, any first year that is seen riding a broomstick will face detention and its confiscation. Thank you.”

The Great Hall was completely silent as Dumbledore sat down, as though no one could believe that he’d done that. No one started to eat again, no one said a word. However, no one knew that James was connected to it at all.

That was until Sirius decided to yell. “James, what the fuck!”

All eyes turned towards James, who was attempting to hide by shovelling mash potato into his mouth at an alarming rate. It didn’t work, and the whispers were already beginning. So much for the Marauder reputation.

“Sirius!” James exclaimed, trying to choke down the mash potato.

“I’m sorry, but come on!” Sirius patted him on the back. “This is your fault, clearly.”

“Say it a little louder, I don’t think everyone heard you.”

“This is Jam–”

“Shut up, you two!” Remus snapped, kicking them both in the shins.

James put his hand down from where he had been about to slap Sirius. They would beat the shit out of each other later, in their dormitory where James wouldn’t be embarrassed any further. And where Remus couldn’t tell them off.

Chapter Text

Saturday 18th December 1971

Christmas break was approaching and the weather began to reflect that. Peter had awoken to snow being sprinkled over him. At first he had been confused, until he saw James standing above him with a bowl of snow in his hand. Sirius was leaning out the window to collect more snow, likely to give Remus the same treatment.

Only Remus was fast asleep, completely unaware as Sirius tip-toed across the room. He dramatically pressed a finger to his lips, but James’ giggles were anything but quiet.

Peter wanted to be angry, to complain that his pillow was now slightly damp, to whine about the icy water running down the neck of his pyjamas. Then Remus shot up straight in bed, wearing nothing but his pants and slapped Sirius across the face. All any of them could do was laugh.

“Lupin, why are you naked?” James snorted, clutching his side as he laughed.

“I don’t like to be warm when I sleep.” Remus wiped the snow from his eyes; Sirius had just dumped the entire bowl on him instead of sprinkling like James. “And I’m not naked, I have underwear on. Besides, I wasn’t expecting some idiot to bring the snow inside, let alone onto my bed!”

Sirius, who was already hanging out of the window to collect more snow, almost fell out as he cackled. He didn’t seem to mind at all that Remus’ first reaction had been to slap him in the face.

Peter dragged himself out of bed, ignoring the icy stream of water running down his spine. He shivered a bit, then ran to the window.

Snow at Hogwarts was beautiful. The entire castle looked as though its towers had been dusted with sugar, like something out of a painting. The Quidditch pitch and the grounds were all a stark white that reflected the early morning sun back at them. Even the Forbidden Forest looked a little less forbidden with a sprinkling of snow over the treetops.

Most of all, it meant Christmas was coming. It was on a Saturday this year, so they were allowed to go home on the Thursday before. Peter had counted on his calendar and that meant ten whole days with just James and Marlene to himself.

They always spent Christmas Day at their own houses, but the rest of the Christmas break was spent at the Potter’s. They’d be there all day until it got dark, and Peter only had to be home by the time the streetlights came on. They’d build snowmen, and race sledges, and decorate the Potter’s house with their own handmade decorations. Euphemia never threw them away, and every year they made more.

Peter had been a little worried that James would invite Sirius and Remus too, that they would encroach on their time honoured tradition. It was routine, and Peter liked routines. But Sirius was remanded to Hogwarts by his parents for a reason he wouldn’t share, and Remus was going home to Wales.

When Remus had told them so, it had been the first time Peter actually knew where he was from. He was terrible with placing where accents came from, but Remus’ accent seemed to float around Britain at will.

James and Sirius were somehow already fully dressed, hats and scarves and all. Peter dressed quickly, wrapping himself up warm, but not too warm. He never wore gloves, because there was something about having warm hands that unsettled Peter.

Remus wasn’t even out of bed yet, grumbling as he pulled the covers over his head. Peter had learned that unlike James who woke up before the sun half the time, Remus was not a morning person. He almost missed breakfast most days, and rarely seemed fully awake before lunch. Peter and Sirius were in the middle, waking up at a normal time. So they did have something in common, Peter thought.

“Up and at ‘em, boys!”

James was clapping his hands at them now, channelling his inner Bodhi Rune. He had grown more intense in his observation of the Gryffindor Quidditch team since he could no longer fly his broom, and Peter was growing rather irritated. He couldn’t imagine how bad it would be when James was actually on the team.

Peter didn’t mind Quidditch, but he wasn’t obsessed with it like James and Marlene. He knew that they enjoyed it, so he made sure to check the outcomes of Puddlemere United or the Kenmare Kestrels’ games and to throw a statistic or two into the conversation.

He pulled his hat on, hoping they were just overdressed for breakfast and not planning to go outside yet. Remus wouldn’t go anywhere without the promise of a meal, and he was ghastly when he hadn’t eaten.

“Oh, let’s just leave Remus behind!” Sirius threw his arms up in exasperation. “We’ll go see the snow, then we’ll see him at breakfast.”

“We’re not going straight to breakfast?”

“‘Course not, Pete!”

***

By the time lessons were over, Remus had become a functioning member of society again and began to get excited about the snow too. Peter, who had already had around six thousand snowballs dumped down the back of his robes, was getting a little sick of it.

He knew when they were whispering in Charms that they were plotting something. James had tapped him on the shoulder, leaning down to whisper the plan into his ear.

It was a ridiculous plan.

It required an insane amount of effort, which Peter only realised when they were sitting in the courtyard, individually shaping snowballs and piling them up. Remus had worked out a spell that kept them in the round shape, but he hadn’t found one that would just make the snowballs for them.

His hands were numb as he shaped a handful of snow into a spherical shape. His fingers were beginning to turn purple, but there was no way he was putting gloves on and suffering the feeling of clammy hands.

“This is hard labour,” Peter grumbled as his snowball fell apart before Remus could charm it.

“Stop whining, Pete,” James chuckled, somehow making another perfect snowball. “If you’d worn gloves, it would be a lot easier and you wouldn’t be so cold.”

“Both of you need to hurry up,” Sirius said, standing by an impressive pile of snowballs. “Clearly, I’m just as proficient at snowball crafting as I am at everything else.”

“I made half of those,” Remus muttered, waving his wand over Peter’s snowball and adding it to the pile.

They must’ve made about a hundred by the time people started streaming out into the courtyard. They ducked behind the bench, crouching down so as to not be seen.

It would’ve been fun just to cast the spell now, to surprise the unsuspecting students in front of them. But the Marauders had a few targets in mind, and they were going to get them. Peter could hardly wait.

But he did. Their targets didn’t seem to want to show up, even though Peter knew they had to cross the courtyard to get to their common room. James and Sirius treated pranking like a covert operation, and they had mapped out the movements of potential targets so they knew where they’d be and when. Perhaps they knew the boys were there, and somehow knew about their prank already.

They didn’t. Snape appeared, stepping out into the courtyard along with Mulciber and a few other Slytherins. Peter could feel James shaking with laughter next to him, and he elbowed him so he’d keep quiet. They were unsuspecting, holding their books and chattering with matching scowls.

Sirius counted down, mouthing at the Marauders. They readied their wands, just as Snape seemed to notice the piles of snowballs. He opened his mouth to say something, but he was too late.

“Impetum iaculatio!”

The snowballs rose in the air, hovering for a moment. Peter wondered if Remus had gotten the spell wrong, if they’d just performed some strange version of the Levitation charm.

Then the snowballs were thrust forward, finding their targets and beginning to pummel the Slytherins. It was a regimented attack, each layer of the pile rising up before striking forward. Snape batted it away, trying to stop the onslaught of snowballs to no avail.

Peter squeaked out a laugh when a snowball threw itself down the back of Mulciber’s robes, causing him to squirm and writhe as it melted. He looked as though he was performing a rather fervent jig.

Sirius had completely doubled over, unable to even watch as he curled into a shaking, laughing ball. Chuckling himself, Peter reached out to stop Sirius from rolling into the snowy bushes.

“Look at him snivelling!” James whispered, stifling his laugh into his scarf. “Snivellus Snape!”

That sent all four of them into another fit of giggles, and Peter was surprised that no one had noticed where they were yet. They didn’t even need James’ Invisibility Cloak. Hiding behind a bench has rendered them invisible to a flailing Snape and his shrieking companions.

“Who did this?” Snape shrieked, sounding like a girl. “Potter, Black, I know this was you!”

James stood up with a wide grin, and Sirius followed. Peter supposed he ought to stand up with them and did, but Remus stayed firmly sat down. The three boys looked down at him, and after muttering under his breath that was probably sarcastic and extremely offensive, Remus stood too.

They probably looked like right idiots, standing in a line watching Snape and his friends get pummelled by snowballs, but in that moment, they felt as though they were on top of the world. Peter felt like he was on top of the world, like this tight unit could rule Hogwarts.

“It’s the Marauders, actually,” Sirius said. “Learn the name, Snivellus.”

Chapter Text

Wednesday 22nd December 1971

It felt strange to be leaving Hogwarts. Despite how badly he wanted to hate the school, Remus found himself wanting to stay. He realised that he would miss his friends, and Madam Pomfrey, and the ability to do basic tasks with a wave of his wand.

Remus hadn’t planned to make friends with them. He was going to learn magic, figure out how to take care of himself, and see if there was a cure for his lycanthropy. Friendship hadn’t been a big player in his mind.

He hadn’t even liked the Marauders when he’d first met them. He had found James too energetic, Peter too awkward, and Sirius too proud, but now he was going to miss them. Remus thought he was going to hate not being part of the Marauders for two weeks.

However, going home gave him an opportunity to restock. Whenever his father had sent him some Muggle chocolates, they would be gone in a matter of hours. He was charging nearly four times his original price now, and no one even questioned him. Remus was going home for Christmas with a rather heavy suitcase.

He had stuffed the money into various socks, deciding to purchase some sort of cash box while at home. Remus never properly folded any of his clothes, so while packing, he had just grabbed a handful and hoped he’d have enough pants.

Sirius hadn’t even gotten out of bed to say goodbye to them, which Remus thought was rather selfish. He’d told him so, quietly and under his breath so Sirius couldn’t have heard it. But he looked at him like he had, and Remus hated being looked at like that.

James, Peter and Marlene were talking animatedly about their Christmas plans while Remus sat in the corner of the compartment with a copy of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. They had been joined by Marlene’s friends Mary and Lily.

Mary MacDonald was rather pretty, with curly hair that bounced every time she moved. She was very smiley, but had shot Marlene a horrible glare when she tried to tell an embarrassing story about her. It had shut Marlene up, and Remus was surprised it hadn’t burnt her alive.

Lily Evans, however, unsettled Remus. He hadn’t spoken to her since Snape had kicked him out of their compartment back in September. He saw her around sometimes, but neither of them approached each other. He knew that she wore a lot of ribbons in her hair, was almost as good at him in some subjects and better than him in the rest. That was about it.

Right now, she wouldn’t stop staring at him. Her eyes were a startling green, and Remus felt as though she was looking into his very soul. Lily had a small frown, looking as though she was trying to figure something out. Remus wondered if she could somehow see the scars beneath the brown jumper he was wearing.

He tried to focus on his reading, but Edmund selling out his family for some Turkish Delight wasn’t quite as interesting as being examined by Lily. His skin was crawling, until he closed his book and ran off to the toilet.

Staring at himself in the bathroom mirror brought back rather fond memories for Remus. He almost wished Snape (known to the Marauders as Snivellus most of the time) would be outside the door so Remus could call him slimy all over again.

However, when Remus opened the toilet door, it wasn’t Snape he saw. Lily was there. He jumped, feeling as though he had seen a ghost. A ginger, freckled ghost who had her hands on her hips.

“Did you follow me to the loo?” Remus breathed, still slightly jarred.

“Yes,” said Lily, as though there was nothing strange about that fact at all. “I know about your little secret, and I want in.”

Remus felt all of the air leave his lungs as his chest began to constrict. He couldn’t breathe. She knew? How could Lily know he was a werewolf? This was the longest conversation they’d ever had, and she couldn’t even see his scars!

And what did she mean she wanted in? Remus sincerely hoped she wasn’t asking him to bite her. The full moon was on Boxing Day, and he didn’t fancy journeying to wherever Lily lived and cursing her to his fate. He wasn’t even sure how someone was turned into a werewolf; he didn’t exactly recall his turning frequently or fondly.

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” Remus said, deciding that playing the fool was the best way out of this.

“You do.”

“No, I really don’t.”

She had him cornered, backed up against the toilet door. Lily was only small, and he could probably shove past her, but there was something in the way she stared at him that made Remus think it wouldn’t end well for him.

He was tempted to just hide in the toilet again, or to take off running down the train. If he did, Lily would likely be impossibly fast and would catch up with him in a second, tackling him to the floor. It was a rather hyperbolic situation, but Remus stayed put anyway.

“How much have you made this term?” Lily asked, her hands on her hips.

“What?” Remus blinked.

“You’ve sold Muggle chocolate to half the blinking school,” Lily exclaimed, looking as though she wanted to petulantly stamp her foot. “It’s exploitative, for one, and I think you should let me in on it.”

Remus felt his frame physically relax. She didn’t know. His secret was safe for now. He blinked hard when he realised what Lily had said. Surely he couldn’t let her in on his operations, for that would mean sharing his money. Remus didn’t mind sharing in general, but he was rather covetous of his newfound income.

“You want me to halve my profits?” Remus huffed, folding his arms.

“No,” Lily said, echoing the gesture. “I’m suggesting you double your inventory. How many times did you run out? You wouldn't want your precious customers to have to come to me, would you?”

He wanted to be angry, to turn Lily down. But her mind seemed to work in the same way that Remus’ did when it came to business, and her threat was real. He couldn’t imagine losing customers to such a tiny, terrifying girl. Perhaps he had underestimated Lily Evans. Her proposed monopoly on chocolate and sweets was sounding more and more ideal.

“How much do you reckon you bring back after Christmas break?” Remus asked.

“I have tons of aunts and uncles, and all of them give me money instead of presents for Christmas,” Lily beamed, looking rather pleased with herself. “So, I’d say quite a lot.”

“And we’d split the profits, 50/50?”

She nodded. Feigning reluctance, Remus held out his hand for Lily to shake. She took it, giving a firm handshake that felt rather threatening. Remus didn’t really care; he was seeing gold.

Chapter Text

Thursday 23rd December 1971

Marlene was a terrible cheat. She had already won the snowman building competition, like she did every year, even though James had sacrificed his own glasses to make his snowman look like him. Marlene just said hers was a snow-lady, like she did every year, and James’ mum let her win because of “girl power.”

Now, sitting on their sledges at the top of the hill, James absolutely knew she was going to cheat. He wasn’t sure how yet, but she had a sly look on her face that made him suspicious. She had stuffed her long blonde locks up into her hat to keep them out of the way, claiming it made her more aerodynamic.

James had missed Marlene while they were at Hogwarts. Even though he had seen her almost every day, it hadn’t been the same. They didn’t tackle each other, or make ridiculous jokes, or challenge each other to wrestling matches with Peter as the referee. James wondered if Marlene was embarrassed to act like that in front of her new friends, or if boys and girls were just becoming separate entities.

It was something he had noticed at Hogwarts, the sudden separation of the sexes. James didn’t really see the difference between them, yet he found himself spending all his time with the Marauders while Marlene spent all her time with Lily and Mary. He hoped that they would get over this soon, and that they could all just be one big group.

The Christmas holidays had been a welcome break. It was as though nothing had changed at all. It was just another Christmas like all of the Christmases before, just the three of them. They spent most of their time at James’ house, but they had been to Marlene’s that morning to borrow her brother Shay’s records.

Sledging was one of James’ favourite Christmas activities, after flying his broom. He loved racing down the hill, and he always won. Marlene would come a close second, then Peter would be last. It was always that way, unless Marlene cheated.

Dad stood next to them, wrapped up in the ugly brown scarf that Mum had knitted. She was terrible, always insisting on doing it the Muggle way with unenchanted needles. The scarf got rather thick in the middle, and it was fraying at the ends, but Dad wore it anyway.

He was telling them when to start, holding out a hand to stop them from going. Mum stood at the bottom of the hill, marking the finish line. James hoped that girl power couldn’t win a sledging race.

“On your marks,” Dad began, doing his ridiculous announcer voice that he copied from the Puddlemere United games. “Get set… Marlene!”

Marlene had already sped off down the hill. James reacted quickly, giving a firm push to his sled and flying down the slope after her. He could still beat her.

When he skidded to a stop at the bottom, Peter following a little later, James immediately stood from his sledge. He put his hands on his hips, then dropped them when he remembered that made him look like his mum.

He stormed over to Mum, his boots getting stuck in the snow and making it look far too much like he was stomping. James hoped he didn’t seem like he was having a strop, but he needed justice.

“Marlene cheated!” James protested. “She went off before Dad even said go!”

Mum just smiled at him, patting his cheek. James smiled back, but he had a feeling he wasn’t going to win this one either. It was odd that Mum’s favourite child wasn’t him.

“Well, I didn’t see that,” Mum said. “I only saw Marlene crossing the finish line first.”

“Because she cheated!”

Marlene stood from her sled, giggling and wiping the snow from her jeans. “Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Did not!”

“Did–”

“You all win!” Mum declared, stepping in between James and Marlene as they got closer and closer.

She could always sense a fight coming, and James and Marlene fought all the time. It was all play fighting of course, but James never went easier on Marlene because she was a girl. If anything, he had to fight back harder because she was stronger than Sirius, though James would never tell him that.

Sirius and James had become very close in a short time. James felt that they understood each other on a level that no one else did. He wouldn’t call Sirius his best friend; he was too loyal to Marlene and Peter. But if he had a third pick, it would be Sirius.

They both liked Quidditch and pranks, and they both hated putting any effort into their homework at all. But that was all surface level. Beyond that, Sirius’ mind seemed to work in the same way that James’ did. They often found themselves finishing each other’s sentences, and one always knew when the other needed light or serious conversation.

James thought that Sirius appreciated his patience. Sirius often said offensive things without meaning to, and James made sure he took the time to explain why Muggleborns really shouldn’t be referred to like that. He knew that Sirius meant no harm, and after seeing the letter from Walburga Black, James was determined to undo Sirius’ upbringing.

Remus was a different story. James got the distinct impression that Remus didn’t really like any of them, even as he warmed up to their pranking. Remus had started to take accountability, getting more involved in the pranks, but he always did it with a lackluster sense of reluctance.

He wondered if Remus thought he was too smart for them. It was probably true, but Remus didn’t seem the type to be so proud. Sirius did. James thought that perhaps Remus was dealing with his own things, as well as coming to an entire new world. He resolved to give Remus a little more space.

They began to trudge back inside, James and Marlene shoving each other all the way up to the house. This then turned into banging their snow covered shoes together in an attempt to throw snow on the other person. This ended when Peter clapped his boots together over Marlene’s head, showering her in crystal white that began to melt. Mum ushered them into the living room after that.

Figby, the Potters’ house elf, brought out a plate of fresh gingerbread men, and the three of them began to decorate. It was good fun, until Marlene suggested it be a competition. James may have “accidentally” spilt sprinkles over Marlene’s when he saw her gingerbread man was turning into a gingerbread lady.

That evening, once the street lights had turned on and Marlene and Peter had gone home, James began to write a letter to Sirius. James thought that he would like a letter if he was stranded at Hogwarts by himself, and Sirius had only received one letter, which hadn’t exactly been a nice one.

As he wrote, James tried to imagine his mum saying those things to him, telling him he couldn’t come home for Christmas simply because he hadn’t been sorted into the “right” house. He couldn’t even picture the words leaving her mouth, let alone being written in a letter.

James wondered if he ought to tell his parents about it. Sirius had sworn him to secrecy, a promise that had been reiterated every time one climbed into the other’s bed to talk at night. They had both become quite proficient in the silencing charm.

He knew exactly what would happen if his parents found out about how Sirius’ mother spoke to him. They would march over to Hogwarts and bring Sirius home. The Potters loved to take people in, and James could hardly remember a time in his childhood where one of the guest rooms hadn’t been filled with someone vulnerable or destitute or ill.

Placing his quill down, James read over the letter a few times. He had wanted to make it seem as though he was worrying about Sirius, but not too much because Sirius did not like to be fussed over.

Dear Sirius,
I hope you’re having a very good Christmas! Pete and Marls have been round mine everyday, and we’re all missing you loads. Marls is a filthy cheat at everything and I think my mum loves her more than she loves me.
We’re having a New Years party, but it’s always so boring. Me, Peter and Marls just spend most of it on the stairs, watching my parents’ weird friends. Dumbledore was here last year, only I didn’t recognise him! I wonder if he’ll be here again. I’m sure we’ll have loads of stories to tell you once we come back in January.
Have you planned any more pranks? You’ve got the whole library at your disposal, and we need to up our game in the new year. Take a leaf out of Remus’s book (get it?) and check some books out of the library.
From, James
PS: Sorry to break the news to you, but I found out when I bought your present that the Beatles broke up last year. Don’t shoot the messenger.

Nowhere in his letter did he use either of their full names. It was strange to think that Sirius was more comfortable with him than he was with his own mother. James couldn’t imagine it, simply because his house was so full of love.

When James was younger, he would creep out of his bed at night to sit on the stairs while his parents were still up. Sometimes they’d dance along to their enchanted radio, or sometimes they’d play cards. Mum would be terrible, but Dad would always make sure she won. James loved to just watch how much they loved each other, and he doubted Sirius had ever sat on the stairs for that reason.

It hurt James’ heart to think that. Mum had always said that he was too empathetic. Blinking his slightly damp eyes, James spellotaped the letter to Sirius’ Christmas present. He had bought him a poster of the Beatles from the Muggle shop in town. It was run by a Muggleborn who sold non-magical goods, mostly music related. James found the still poster a bit strange, but he knew Sirius would love it.

He watched as the owl flew away into the night sky. James wondered if Sirius was looking up at the same full moon that he was, if Remus and Peter and Marlene were too. That comforted him as he shut the window and went to bed, knowing he wasn’t alone.

Chapter Text

Friday 31st December 1971

It was going to be 1972 soon. The new year felt as daunting as every change seemed to Peter: foreboding and full of bad things. Routine was comfortable, change was not.

The Potters’ New Years Eve party was the same every year, but it never really helped Peter feel less worried about what was to come. Peter liked to be safe and prepared, and for some reason, 1972 didn’t sound promising.

He sat with James and Marlene on the Potters’ grand staircase, watching the partygoers below and hoarding all of the sweets in the house. A song that Peter didn’t recognise was playing on the radio, somehow loud enough to echo through their large foyer. James’ house was more like a manor.

James’ parents were dancing together, swaying slowly to the music. Euphemia had her head on her husband’s chest, looking more at peace than Peter had ever seen anyone be. James was eating a Liquorice Wand and pretending not to notice how happy his parents were.

Peter’s parents were dancing too, but Mum’s eyes were wide open. She was looking around as Penny played a new game of how many strangers can she scare by jumping out from behind another stranger. It was a good thing that Penny was only seven, because it was rather annoying.

Marlene tossed a Bertie Botts Every Flavour Bean at Peter, clapping her hands when he managed to catch it in his mouth. Peter hadn’t seen the colour, but a fruity flavour filled his mouth as he chewed. Lime, not snot. Marlene had been kind for once.

“What time’s it?” James asked, his Liquorice Wand hanging from his mouth.

Peter checked his watch. It was a battered old thing that had belonged to his grandfather, and Peter never took it off. It wasn’t enchanted, didn’t do anything special, but it was his.

“Half eleven,” he answered, grabbing a chocolate frog from their stash of sweets.

“Bloody hell,” James yawned. “I don’t think I’ll make it, I’m not a night owl.”

“No, you’re a morning person, we know,” Peter laughed, earning himself a smack upside the head from James. “Hey, not everyone wants to wake up at sunrise!”

“The early bird gets the worm!”

Marlene and Peter both turned to James, blinking at him. James turned a little red, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s a Muggle saying, I think. Stop staring!”

At that moment, Penny pottered up the stairs. She planted herself directly in the middle of Peter and Marlene, wiggling around to push them apart. She grabbed Peter’s chocolate frog from his hands, licked it, then gave it back.

Peter resisted the urge to run straight to his parents. He was eleven now, and he couldn’t rely on tattle-taling. However, it was very irritating that his seven year old sister had managed to realise he wouldn’t eat anything he had seen someone else’s mouth touch. Peter reluctantly let her have the chocolate frog, ignoring her pleased look.

She polished it off in seconds, all while babbling to James and Marlene nonsensically. Marlene was giggling at how annoyed Peter looked, but James was paying full attention. He was nodding at Penny as she rambled, somehow managing to smile and laugh just when she wanted him to. When she offered him the remnants of her chocolate frog, her fingers sticky and brown, James managed to decline without looking totally horrified.

Penny then turned her attention to Peter, who couldn’t stand the layer of chocolate around his sister’s mouth, much less the way she wiped it with her entire arm. The thought of all of the germs she had made him feel queasy himself.

“I wanna dance,” Penny declared. “Petey, dance!”

“I’m with my friends, Penn,” Peter sighed, looking down into the foyer to see Mum shooting him a hard look. “Surely there’s someone else to dance with you.”

“No, because Mummy and Daddy are dancing together and Paul is gone, so it’s just you, so dance now!”

“I’ll dance with you,” James offered, standing up.

He took Penny’s chocolate covered hand in his, not seeming to care at all, and led her down the stairs. Penny looked extremely pleased with her new dancing partner.

James led her to the middle of the room, holding her hands as Penny did her best to dance to the music. Peter would’ve been bored out of his mind, but James looked rather happy. It was just like James to be that way. He was charming and kind to everyone, without even a second thought. Peter was fairly sure he’d be hearing about Penny’s new crush on James for the rest of the night. He just hoped she’d get over it by summer.

Paul had been a better brother to Penny, always playing with her and entertaining her whims. Peter didn’t know how to engage with his little sister like that. He didn’t know how to pretend to care, couldn’t see the point in feigning interest. It seemed almost unkind to act.

He was not as good of a brother as James would’ve been. James managed to be the best brother anyone could ask for to Peter and Marlene, and now Penny too. Peter wondered where he’d figured out how to do it, and if James would teach him too.

“James better not miss midnight,” Peter muttered to Marlene, who was elbow deep in a bag of Exploding Bonbons and wasn’t really listening at all.

The three of them had a tradition for New Years Eve. They would sit on their spot on the stairs, and make a wish for the next year. They would tell each other whether their wish from last year had come true, but they’d never say what it had been. The wishes were secret, but the experience was always shared.

Peter’s wishes almost never came true. This time last year, Peter had wished to be in the same house as James and Marlene once they went to Hogwarts. When the Sorting Hat was placed upon his head, it seemed to be unable to decide where Peter should go.

It had thought his loyalty belonged in Hufflepuff, while his ambition belonged in Slytherin. His curiosity belonged in Ravenclaw, while his determination belonged in Gryffindor. Peter had simply pleaded with the Hat to be in Gryffindor. He supposed it had given up on trying to sort him anywhere else, just placing Peter in Gryffindor because he had asked.

“What did you wish for last year?”

“It came true, but I’m not telling you.”

“Mean!”

“Marlene, you can’t know,” Peter said, taking the Exploding Bonbons from her before she was sick. “It breaks the rules.”

“They’re not real rules. Just a routine.”

“Well, I like my routines.”

“We know.”

Marlene hadn’t said it maliciously, bumping her shoulder against Peter’s with a smile. He couldn’t help but smile back. It felt good to be known.

Peter put his arm around Marlene for a moment, and she let her head rest on his shoulder. He didn’t much like to be touched, but he knew Marlene did. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, especially not in front of James.

“I’ve missed you, Pete,” Marlene said. “Even though we’ve been at the same school, it feels like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Peter whispered, feeling oddly like he wanted to cry.

James came scampering up the stairs on all fours, clearly too tired to think of how ridiculous he looked. Peter looked down into the foyer to see that Penny had been deposited into Dad’s arms, and that both of them were now asleep.

Sitting down in between Marlene and Peter, James put his arms around them both. He was always a very affectionate person, and Peter indulged him with a moment of closeness before he shoved him off. Marlene licked James’ cheek, causing him to start tickling her.

Marlene had almost fallen down the steps, kicking James away. Peter watched, feeling a lightness in his chest as though a weight had been lifted from it.

“Ten, nine, eight…”

“Shit, the countdown!” James said, pulling Marlene back up.

“Seven, six, five…”

Peter began to wonder what his next wish would be. He looked over at his friends. Marlene was smoothing her long hair down while shooting daggers at James, who had his eyes squeezed shut as he prepared his wish. As Peter observed his best friends, all thoughts of wishing to pass his exams left.

“Four, three, two…”

Closing his eyes, Peter wished that this time next year, everything would be the same. That James and Marlene would still be his best friends. That nothing would come between them. That they’d still be here, on the steps, making their wishes before 1973.

“One! Happy New Year!”

James tried to hug Peter and Marlene again, and this time, they both let him.

Chapter Text

Sunday 2nd January 1972

It had been the most boring Christmas ever. Sirius was above begging James or Remus or even Peter to stay at Hogwarts with him, but the moment they’d left, he had really wished he wasn’t.

Having Hogwarts practically to himself hadn’t been too bad, to start with. He’d found it interesting to walk around the castle when it wasn’t packed full of students. But soon, the sound of his footsteps on the stone had echoed far too loud.

After receiving James’ letter, and briefly agonising over the breaking up of the Beatles, Sirius had devoted himself to planning their next big prank. The library was typically empty, save for Madam Pince and a few frazzled seventh years, but Sirius hated the silence. He had never even been in the library before, not seeing the point in reading anything other than the assigned textbooks he had already purchased. He wasn’t Remus.

The library, as immense as it was, had almost nothing on pranks. Sirius found himself clutching at straws as he tried to turn a boring spellbook into a legendary prank. The Marauders didn’t really work as individuals, Sirius thought. He needed James to come up with an idea, Remus to do all the research, and Peter to accidentally stumble across the perfect addition.

Sirius could execute the pranks, he supposed, but Remus did most of the spells anyway. He made them up sometimes too. Sirius was the face of the Marauders, maybe, the Black Heir turned Gryffindor rogue. The Rogues would’ve been a good team name, but they were already past discussing it.

When prank research had fallen through, Sirius had come up with an alternate mission for the Christmas holidays. He was going to find as many trapdoors and secret passageways and hidden rooms as possible, all by himself. He planned to add them to the orienteering map, so that they would have a network of escape routes next time McGonnagall found them.

His fascination with hidden passageways had begun when he had accidentally stumbled upon one. He had been leaning against a wall on the third floor, just passing the time. Quite embarrassingly, he had stumbled over while standing completely still. Attempting to save himself, Sirius had reached out and grabbed hold of a hanging lantern. He used it to pull himself up, unknowingly pulling the lantern down too.

By the time he had dusted off his robes and regained his composure, Sirius was staring at a hole in the wall. It was as though the wall had slid open, revealing a dark passage. He shouldn’t have gone in there, but curiosity got the better of him.

Casting a Lumos charm, he had ventured down the passageway only to find that it led directly into the Gryffindor common room when he came out through the bookshelf. There didn’t seem to be any way to go back through the bookshelf, but Sirius thought it was good to know that they could escape the third floor corridor and say that they had been in the common room the entire time.

Since then, he had only managed to find one more hidden tunnel, despite his relentless pulling of lanterns and attempts to guess secret passwords. The passage he had found was a golden one. When he had rattled off hundreds of different words to the one-eyed witch statue, he had found the password.

Dissendium. When Sirius had said it, the witch’s hump slid open to reveal a small opening. Stepping inside without regard for where it led, Sirius had discovered that it was a slide. He had been shot out into a tunnel on his rear. The tunnel was long and dark, smelling faintly of sugar. Sirius would’ve gone right to the end, but he wanted to save that for when his fellow Marauders returned.
That would be any minute now. Sirius was sitting outside the Great Hall, watching the horseless carriages approach the castle. There were plenty of older students, and students from other houses, but the Marauders were nowhere to be seen.

Sirius was starved. Starved for attention and human contact outside of a brief smile as he passed a professor in the corridors. He was hungry, salivating at the thought of another prank, another bickering match with Remus, another late night talk with James.

He wasn’t used to having friends, and Sirius thought that friends made him rather strange. He realised this when he began wondering how far he’d get if he just ran out of the gates to find them.

“Waiting for me?”

Immediately, Sirius was on his feet. James was already out of the carriage, tossing his bag aside as though it meant nothing. They were running towards one another, and when they met, Sirius jumped on James. He pounced on him, wrapping his arms and legs around James, who promptly toppled backwards onto the floor.

“You two are far too co-dependent,” Remus said dryly, climbing down from the carriage. “I didn’t get that enthusiastic of a welcome.”

“Don’t worry, Remus,” Sirius winked as he helped James up. “I’ll give you a smooch too.”

Remus looked utterly horrified by this prospect, starting up towards the castle without so much as a glance behind him. The other three Marauders were hot on his heels, of course, and Sirius made a point to say hello to Peter.

After being alone for such a long time (eleven whole days), Sirius had decided that he couldn’t take any friendship for granted, even a friendship with Peter Pettigrew. He didn’t know much about what Peter liked, but he would find out. Soon they would be just as good friends as him and James.

He didn’t really know if Remus was his friend. They were fellow Marauders afterall, but Sirius got the impression that Remus didn’t really like him. Remus seemed to spend most of his time with Peter, appearing to value James’ good nature as well. He only ever rolled his eyes at Sirius or whispered something under his breath.

At first, Sirius hadn’t been able to hear what Remus was saying when he had muttered it so quietly, but he had learnt. He could almost sense now when Remus had something to add, something that he didn’t want anyone else hearing. Sirius’ ears would prick up and he would lean in subtly. He would try not to laugh.

Because that was the problem. Remus was impossibly funny, and no one even knew. Sirius felt a quiet sort of pride that he was the only one that had experienced this side of him. Remus did it nearly all the time, but most of all in lessons. The teacher would say something wrong, and Remus would mutter a correction or a sarcastic little comment.

There had been one moment in a Potions lesson, where Slughorn had commented on the odour produced by a certain elixir. Remus had scoffed quietly and murmured, “Oh, I love the smell of fish and abandonment. Ought to get a candle.” Sirius had almost choked himself trying to stop laughing.

Even thinking of it, a small smile made its way onto his face. This didn’t escape James’ notice, as Sirius soon received the horrible sensation of being prodded in the neck with a wand. He squirmed, scowling at James.

“Why are you smiling to yourself?” James asked, dodging Sirius’ elbow.

“I’m just happy to have you back,” Sirius huffed. “Or I was until you attacked me.”

“Not really an attack,” Peter added, swinging his bag.

“Oh, shove off, both of you!”

Sirius pranced away (he didn’t like to think he was prancing, but he really was), attempting to catch up with Remus, who didn’t seem to be happy about his company. He was deep in a conversation with the ginger girl that Sirius ought to know the name of. He couldn’t remember it.

When he approached, the two of them got very secretive. They suspiciously stopped talking, even moving slightly away from each other. They hadn’t been talking about him, had they? Sirius bloody hoped not.

He wondered if Remus was planning to ditch the Marauders for this girl. Even worse than that, maybe he wanted her to join, Sirius didn’t see why anyone would want to ruin such a perfect group by adding a girl to it.

Sirius didn’t know very many girls, but the ones he did know were beastly. Bellatrix was deranged, always threatening or hexing her younger cousins. Narcissa was prissy, and far too fixated on her boyfriend Lucius. Andromeda was alright most of the time, but she spent too much time away from Sirius. Girls were overrated, and the redhead girl would never be part of the Marauders.

With his metaphorical tail between his legs, Sirius slowed his pace and rejoined Peter and James. He began a second attempt to strike up a conversation with Peter, only to discover nothing more than that the boy liked to talk about his Christmas at the Potters'.

Whether intentionally or not, James had left out most of the details of their Christmas break, distracting Sirius with the Beatles’ break up. Hearing it all now made him painfully jealous. However, deep down, Sirius knew he would never spend a Christmas at the Potters’. At least, not until he was of age.

He was very resigned to his life, which felt strange at only twelve. But twelve felt more grown up than eleven or ten or any age before that. Sirius had been seven when he’d realised his future. No particular event had caused this revelation; he had simply been going to bed one night when it had dawned on him. He would have a pureblood wife picked out for him and he would carry on the Noble House of Black. That was his life.

Hogwarts made him feel like it didn’t have to be. At his intelligent age of twelve, Sirius knew that it was foolish to believe a few pranks and three new friends could alter the course of his life. The thought was there anyway, and it didn’t seem to want to leave.

Sirius stayed close to James all day. He sat beside him at dinner, and even helped him to unpack his bag when it was time for bed. If James noticed this, he didn’t say a word. Sirius hadn’t asked him to do that, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

When he was vaguely certain that Remus and Peter were asleep, Sirius climbed out of his bed and went into James’. Their beds were next to each other, with Peter the other side of James and Remus the other side of Sirius, closest to the door. It had been a chance decision on their first day, but the arrangement worked well. Especially seeing as Peter had a rather weak bladder; he was right by the bathroom for when he needed to get up to go to the toilet.

James cast a quick soundproofing spell like he always did, while Sirius closed the bed curtains. They sat opposite each other, legs crossed, and Sirius realised that he didn’t really have anything to say.

“Have a good Christmas?” James said, whispering as though there wasn’t a charm at all.

“You’ve asked me that a million times,” Sirius replied, unsure as to why he was now whispering.

“But I want the real answer.”

He always did this. James Potter and his bloody feelings talk. For once in his life, Sirius was grateful for having grown up in the Black family. His parents had never asked him about how he really felt once in his twelve years of life.

“Fine,” Sirius huffed, looking down at his lap. “It was shit. Never leave me alone like that ever again.”

“Did you do anything good?”

James didn’t push. He didn’t give Sirius a big hug and say all of the pitying things Sirius knew he wanted to say. He simply changed the topic, and somehow that was exactly what Sirius needed. A distraction.

“Found some secret passages. Two actually.”

“Without me?!”

Chapter Text

Friday 11th February 1972

Despite his initial reservations, working with Lily had been exactly what Remus needed. She was unassuming enough that people didn’t question her when she told them a five pence chocolate bar cost four Sickles. Soon, the biscuit tin Remus had bought to keep his cash in was rather full.

Remus still set up base in the corner of the common room, and regarded himself as the face of the operation. Lily would sell in the girls’ bathrooms and somehow in lessons. Remus didn’t really know why anyone would want to purchase a chocolate bar after going to the loo, but he didn’t ask questions when Lily dumped handfuls of coins into the tin.

So far, they hadn’t dipped into the money too much. Lily’s birthday had been on 30th January, so Remus had taken a few Sickles out to buy her something. He still didn’t consider them friends, but he had thought he ought to get her a birthday present at least.

Only, he didn’t really know what Lily liked. She was rather studious, beloved by all of her teachers who seemed to be vaguely frightened of her, but Remus didn’t think she’d want quills or parchment. He wondered if she liked to read, but he didn’t know what kind of books girls read.

He had just gotten a third year customer to buy her some magic chocolate, made an awkward joke and been done with it. She had hugged him, which had been entirely unsettling to begin with, and even worse when Sirius had begun whistling at them.

The Marauders had started to pick up on Remu’s newfound friendship with Lily, but they were still none the wiser to their wider operation. He didn’t owe them the details just because they were sort of friends now (Remus wouldn’t admit that they were actually friends for a very long time.) James and Sirius had made a few jokes about the two of them being a couple, but Remus had swiftly shut that down.

If Remus had been forced to choose a girlfriend, he supposed it would’ve been Lily. That didn’t mean he had a crush on her. She was alright, and Remus admired her tenacity and determination. The main problem was just how terrifying she was.

He would never admit it to his friends, much less Lily herself, but he was rather afraid of her. She was barely five feet tall, with a delicate build and dainty features. Yet there was something in her eyes that suggested she was a threat. Remus wondered if it was his wolf instincts telling him to steer clear.

Wolf instincts were becoming an irritating thing. They hadn’t been too much of a problem at home, probably because there weren’t many threats in the Welsh countryside. At Hogwarts however, Remus felt as though he was always on edge. His nose would catch a scent and suddenly he was turning around in his chair to stare at some unsuspecting person who really wasn’t doing anything at all.

It was worse around full moons. The February full moon was tonight, and Remus was dreading it. His head was pounding throughout every lesson, made worse by the fact that he sat next to Sirius fucking Black in half of them. The boy didn’t know when to shut up, and he didn’t seem to be discouraged by Remus’ glares either.

By dinner, Remus could smell everything. The scent of the food was overwhelmed by the metallic odour of plates. He could even smell the sound of cutlery scraping together, could taste it in his teeth.

However, it didn’t dampen his appetite one bit. Remus could always eat enough to feed a small family, but around full moons, he could eat a small family. He tried not to think about that as he added a third helping of mashed potatoes to his plate, much to Sirius’ horror.

“Bloody hell, Remus!” Sirius shook his head like Remus imagined a disappointed mother would. “Leave some for the rest of us!”

“The plates replenish themselves, and I’m hungry,” Remus grumbled, spearing some beef on his fork in what he hoped was a threatening manner. “So fuck off.”

The laughter he received indicated that Remus wasn’t nearly as scary as he thought. He wasn’t sure whether that was a comfort to him or not. Would they laugh this way if they knew what he was?

Remus had discovered from one of the books in the library that werewolves were classified XXXXX, beasts of the highest risk. He was apparently a known wizard killer, as well as being impossible to domesticate. Helping himself to some more peas, Remus thought that he had been domesticated rather well.

Dinner preceded in a low hum of chatter that Remus mostly tuned out. He could smell that someone on the Hufflepuff table was about to let it rip rather violently. Remus covered his nose with his sleeve as James suggested that their next prank should be to steal all of the Slytherins’ uniforms so they would have to go looking for them in the nude.

“That’s the worst idea we’ve had since yesterday,” Remus grumbled. “Surely they would just put normal clothes on, instead of wandering around naked.”

“The more important question,” Sirius smirked, “is why does Potter want to see the Slytherins naked?”

James choked on the sticky toffee pudding that had just appeared, hitting himself on the chest a few times before leaning over the table to give Sirius the same treatment. They were always at each others’ throats, squabbling and wrestling. Remus knew it was all in good fun, and that no one would ever understand Sirius and James the way that Sirius and James did, but it seemed a little uncivilised for a pair of purebloods.

Remus had received an education on all of the “pureblood lore” as it had been referred to, from Lily while they were counting their cash a few weeks ago. Counting out the coins was one of Remus’ favourite pastimes. He loved how the number grew with each clink of a Knut or Sickle. It was one of the only times he could stomach the metallic stench.

Lily was a Muggleborn, regarded by many as not worthy for the wizarding world, which Remus thought was utter shit. Purebloods like James and Sirius were supposed to be better than everyone else, though they certainly didn’t act like it. Lily worked harder than both of them combined.

At present, Sirius was attempting to push James’ face into his sticky toffee pudding, while James resisted to the best of his ability. Sirius was chanting “Eat it!” repeatedly, which Peter seemed to find rather amusing. Remus thought this was a good time to excuse himself.

“Well, I’ve got a detention to get to,” Remus said, grabbing a chunk of sticky toffee pudding for the road.

The toffee glaze shimmered on Remus’ now-sticky fingers, which was rather uncomfortable but he supposed it didn’t matter. His bones would be snapping and breaking soon, so tacky fingertips weren’t really of great concern.

Sirius stopped pushing James’ head down, looking up at Remus skeptically. His perfectly shaped brows (an annoying trait) were arched in a question that Remus would not answer. Sirius asked it anyway.

“What’ve you got detention for? We haven’t done anything in the past week.”

“I can’t be expected to tell you everything I do, Black,” Remus said, turning and walking out of the Great Hall. “I’m the clever one after all.”

“Clever one, my arse,” Sirius grumbled, but he let him leave anyway.

The hospital wing wasn’t too far away, and Remus always walked faster when it was close to the full moon. He didn’t want a repeat of his first full moon, which had caused him to develop a small fear of Apparating. The clinical scent of Madam Pomfrey’s ointments and balms seemed to wind its way around Remus’ throat, warning him that something bad was ahead.

He ignored his wolf instincts as he followed Madam Pomfrey down the elaborate tunnel network, led by the light of her wand. Remus never took his own wand with him, too afraid of snapping it. They emerged into his least favourite place, the Shack.

The Shack was what the professors referred to it as, too afraid of some nosy student overhearing. It was an appropriate name, but Remus tried to be grateful. The Hogwarts staff were trying their best, or at least Madam Pomfrey was.

“All set?” she asked, stroking Remus’ hair back from his sweaty forehead.

She did that a lot, and Remus didn’t let it bother him anymore. He had grown rather attached to Madam Pomfrey. She was potentially his favourite person at Hogwarts, which Remus thought was a little bit sad. He couldn’t tell the Marauders of course, as that would raise all sorts of questions, like why he spent enough time in the hospital wing to form an attachment to the school nurse.

“Yeah, you can go,” Remus rasped, his throat growing hoarse as his vision began to dim. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, my boy,” Madam Pomfrey said as she began to leave. “Seeing you alright in the morning is good enough for me.”

“I’ll try not to scratch myself up too much,” Remus joked weakly.

He slipped out of his clothes, watching himself shove them under the small bed in black and white. The wolf was coming soon, and all he could do was wait and wonder what kind of full moon this would be. Sometimes, he could remember everything in detail. Sometimes, it was as though he had blacked out.

CRACK!

Remus’ spine snapped first, sending him onto his knees. A strangled sound left his lips as each vertebrae broke itself, then mended itself. His shape was changing, and he tried to hold onto his mind for as long as he could.

The wolf lifted its head up, sniffing the air. The woman was gone, disappeared into the outside. The wolf padded around the perimeter of the room, looking for a way to the outside.

It was full and it was starving. The wolf’s nose caught the delicious scent of some small critter, perhaps a mouse or a rabbit. Hungry.

Rearing back on its haunches, the wolf howled as loud as it could, summoning its pack. There was no response. Its pack was gone. Only the wolf had never really had a pack at all, had it?

Angry and starving and alone, the wolf clawed at its back. There was an itch to scratch, a rage to satiate, but the wolf could not reach. It ran at the walls of the room, hoping it could burst through to the outside.

When Remus awoke, his back was bleeding and his head felt as though it was splitting open at the seams. He could not remember a single thing from the previous night, but he knew that he was angry. Tears slipped down his face, hot and filled with a fury he knew no reason for.

Chapter Text

Friday 10th March 1972

It was Remus’ twelfth birthday, and for some reason, Sirius was the most excited. After his initial surprise at the fact they remembered his birthday, Remus had been very indignant about how there was to be no cake, no singing, and absolutely no presents.

Perhaps the reason that Sirius was so excited was that he had all three planned for today. A party had been in the cards at one point, but they all feared the wrath of Remus just a little too much for that.

First, they had finally figured out where the kitchens were. The house elves seemed to like Peter the best, so he had been the one to ask them to prepare a cake. Remus seemed to eat a lot of chocolate, so they figured a chocolate cake was the best bet.

They had been to the kitchens to collect it in the dead of night, somehow managing to not be caught out of bed by Filch and his beastly cat Mrs Norris. James had researched a special charm to keep the cake chilled, and they had hidden it under Sirius’ bed until morning, as he had been deemed least likely to eat it during the night. Peter had admitted his own lack of restraint, and Sirius had managed to hold back a cruel joke. He was proud of himself.

While Peter still wasn’t his best friend, Sirius knew him a lot better now. Peter liked Quidditch, but was too scared of heights to play. He was quiet, but he could be funny too, though it usually seemed to be an accident. The awkwardness between them had dissolved, and planning Remus’ birthday had been a perfect opportunity to work together.

The initial plan had been to whip out the cake at breakfast, which was when Remus would be surprised by the entire Great Hall singing to him. It had been a bit of an effort to get everyone in on it, but with the help of the Prewett twins (whom it had taken several weeks for Sirius and James to build up the courage to start a conversation with), Sirius was fairly certain that it would work. The Slytherins were anyone’s bet, but they didn’t really matter anyway.

This plan had changed when the three of them had woken up to a peacefully sleeping Remus, who didn’t seem to know that it was his birthday at all. Sirius had whispered something to James, who had whispered to Peter and soon the three of them were standing around Remus’ bed.

Peter took the job of holding the cake, a slice already cut for Remus to eat the second he awoke. James and Sirius couldn’t be trusted to stand still, currently bouncing up and down as they waited for Remus to stir.

He was lying on his stomach, face down into his pillow. He seemed to be in his pants again, which gave Sirius a small amount of amusement because surely he had to have learnt that even in his bed he couldn’t hide from his fellow Marauders.

“How long are you going to stand around my bed like a bunch of creepers?” Remus asked without lifting his face from his pillow, his voice all muffled and undeniably grumpy.

Remus always seemed to be able to do that. He could sense when someone was behind him, even if he couldn’t see them. He was almost always able to tell who it was too, which seemed impossible. Sirius was sure he was using some sort of secret spell he had learned.

Sirius raised a hand. He folded his fingers down from five to one and then the three of them began a raucous chorus of Happy Birthday. Remus moved, but only to put his pillow over his head as he grumbled.

“Happy birthday to Reeeeemuuuuuuuus!”

“Too early!”

“Happy birthday to youuuu–”

“James, stop fucking freestyling.”

“Sorry.”

Remus pulled himself up into a sitting position, tugging a t-shirt over his head as he did. His hair was all messed up from being shoved under a pillow, and he did not look happy to have been woken up.

That was until his eyes landed on the slice of chocolate cake that Peter was sheepishly offering him, as though he feared Remus was about to bite his hand off. Taking a slice, Remus looked between them with an unfamiliar look. Sirius wasn’t quite sure what the look meant, but Remus didn’t look grumpy anymore.

“You got me a cake?”

“It’s your birthday,” James said, clapping his hands together as though he planned to burst out into song once more.

“We found the kitchens,” Sirius said before anyone had to endure James’ horrible voice once more. “You don’t know how hard it’s been to keep this all a secret from you. Peter’s almost let it slip about a million times.”

Peter looked as though he wanted to argue that point before he seemed to remember how many times Sirius or James had had to pounce on him to prevent him from spilling the beans. He just shrugged and helped himself to a slice of cake.

The three of them joined Remus on his bed. He didn’t look too happy about it, until he had the chocolate cake in his lap and could help himself to a second slice. Sirius tasted the icing, wondering how anyone could eat something so rich and sugary before they’d had a proper breakfast.

James didn’t have such a problem. He was already half way through his own slice of cake, and he had managed to smear chocolate over almost his entire face. Sirius pointed this out, and when James laughed, his teeth were cemented with chocolate too.

“You’re all so messy,” Sirius said. “Poor Remus will have crumbs in his bed for days.”

“He’ll eat them,” James said through a too large mouthful. “He’ll eat anything.”

That earned James a smack upside the head from Remus, who got away with it because James would never hit someone on their birthday. He held birthdays in the highest regard, and hadn’t found that embarrassing at all when he had told Sirius.

“I don’t know how you can eat cake first thing in the morning,” Sirius sighed.

Wrong move. Three pairs of eyes landed on him. Peter looked confused. James looked absolutely scandalised. Remus… Sirius couldn’t quite tell what look he was getting from Remus, but it didn’t fill him with confidence.

“Have a slice, Sirius,” Remus prompted, with a smug look that belonged more on Sirius’ own face than Remus’ typically disgruntled features. “It’s my birthday afterall.”

Resisting the urge to complain about the fact that no one should eat cake for breakfast before eating something savoury, at least having something to drink, Sirius used his wand to cut the smallest sliver of cake possible. He took a bite out of it, emphasising his chewing. Remus seemed appeased.

“No decorum, none of you,” Sirius mumbled as he ate.

The cake wasn’t all that bad, but Sirius had been raised with standards. He knew exactly which piece of cutlery to use for each course. He knew the difference between a soup spoon, a sugar spoon and a dessert spoon. He knew that dessert came last. Sirius didn’t think he’d ever unlearn these things, even if he tried.

He ate the cake anyway, casting an Aguamenti charm to fill the glass on his bedside table with water. Chocolate made him terribly thirsty, and he didn’t understand how people could eat it in such large quantities or how Remus was already on his third slice.

It was then time for presents. They had all bought Remus a book related gift, seeing as he didn’t seem to like much else. If he had other interests, he wasn’t willing to share them with his fellow Marauders.

James had gifted him a volume of The Tales of Beedle Bard, and Sirius had gone for Quidditch Through The Ages in the hopes that maybe Remus would understand the game some day. Peter had given Remus a leather bookmark with his initials on it.

That was about as good as the day would get for Remus. He was appalled by the sight of the entire Great Hall singing to him at breakfast, save some pouting Slytherins. His reactions at lunch and dinner were even better. Sirius had half a mind to strike up another round of Happy Birthday in the common room, but he feared that Remus wouldn’t let them get away with one more.

Remus had requested an early night, much to the chagrin of James and Sirius, though he would never admit it. When they were all tucked in their beds, Sirius stuck his head out of his bedcurtains. This time, he wasn’t looking towards James’ bed; he was looking towards Remus’.

“Did you have a good birthday, Remus?” Sirius whispered as quietly as he could muster.

“Sirius?” came Remus’ reply and Sirius could almost hear the reluctance.

“Obviously. Did you or did you not have the best birthday ever?”

“If I say yes, will you let me go asleep?”

Sirius pondered this for a few moments before nodding his head at Remus, who was currently echoing his position. It must’ve looked rather strange, two heads talking to one another in the dark.

“It was a very good birthday,” Remus whispered before withdrawing into his bed. “Thank you.”

As he fell asleep, Sirius’ heart felt strangely light to know that his plans for Remus’ birthday had been well received. He began to think about what they would do for Remus’ thirteenth, then stopped himself. He was getting too carried away.

Chapter Text

Monday 27th March 1972

James turned twelve on a Monday, which was potentially the worst thing to have ever happened in his entire twelve years of life.

He thought that Remus had entirely wasted the opportunity of having a birthday on a Friday, when they could’ve stayed up all night and slept well into Saturday. Not only did James have to go to lessons on his birthday, he also had to be in bed on time so he wouldn’t be tired for lessons the next day. It was a terrible injustice.

To make matters worse, James usually spent his birthdays flying his Nimbus 1500, and he couldn’t even do that. Thanks to McGonnagall (and James too, but he was more focused on McGonnagall’s part), first years were now forbidden from bringing their own brooms to Hogwarts.

If James wanted to fly, he would have to use one of the school brooms. They were falling apart, nothing compared to his Nimbus 1500. There wasn’t even a flying lesson timetabled.

James spent a lot of time agonising over this. It was very easy to, because Peter would never tell him to stop whining and Sirius complained so often that he didn’t really have a leg to stand on. Remus had told James to shut up, but it hadn’t done much.

Birthdays were of the utmost importance in James’ opinion, and no innocent child should be forced to do school work on their birthday, especially not Transfiguration. McGonnagall didn’t look too happy when James had told her this, but refrained from giving him detention.

There had been cake of course, chocolate just like Remus’. While James didn’t exactly share Remus’ adoration for chocolate, his birthday cakes had always been chocolate for as long as he could remember. They had eaten it in the dormitory, much to Sirius’ chagrin.

Despite the changes he had made, slouching in his seat and loosening his tie, Sirius couldn’t shake the pureblood image. He often stood in balletic positions, and was terribly offended if the soup served didn’t pair correctly with the meal. James found it hilarious.

Dinner was nothing special, because for everyone else, it was just a Monday. James missed his mother’s curry, the one that warmed his entire body down to his toes. Hogwarts food was good, but decidedly bland. No one here seemed to have heard of spice, and James had resorted to heavily salting his food instead, though it didn’t have the same effect.

“Why is nothing here spicy?” James huffed, heaping an entire spoonful of salt into his shepherd’s pie. “None of this food is as good as the stuff my mum makes.”

“Probably because it’s not from your, uh…” Remus swallowed, looking a little pink. “Culture. You know.”

James blinked, shaking his head. Bramblewick didn’t really have a distinctive culture, and he didn’t think Marlene or Peter really ate the same food as him. Perhaps Remus meant pureblood culture, though James didn’t really participate in that.

Remus was scrambling to explain himself, talking about colours and countries until Mary Macdonald leaned across the table and put her hand on his arm. James frowned; Remus spent a lot of time with girls.

“There’s no point,” Mary said. “Me and Lily have tried to explain to Marlene before, and she still doesn’t get it. They’re all colour blind here, I suppose, which is sort of nice.”

“How do they not know?” Remus blinked. “Don’t they read the news?”

“Not in their news,” Mary shrugged, going back to her food. “Bless them, they’re more concerned about what house you’re in than what country you’re from. It makes a nice change from my primary school at least.”

Remus grimaced, but neither of them expanded further. James wondered if he’d ever really understand the Muggle world that Remus and Mary had grown up in. He was planning on taking Muggle Studies for his OWLs so that he could learn what some of the words that Remus used actually meant.

The tell-phone intrigued James the most. Remus had attempted to explain how a contraption in a box allowed you to talk to anyone you wanted to, but he had gotten rather frustrated when Sirius had asked if it was like the Floo Network. Remus hadn’t known what the Floo Network was at that point, which had led to some very aggressive reading later that night.

“Had a good birthday, Jamie?” Marlene asked, prodding James with her fork from across the table.

She was sitting with Mary and Lily, but had slid down the table to be opposite James. It felt good to have her around, for she was almost never without her two girl friends nowadays. James always had half a mind to steal her away, to make a Marauder out of her.

“As good as a birthday can be with double Potions and Transfiguration,” James sighed dramatically, earning an eyeroll from Remus.

“What presents did you get?” Marlene asked. “Effie and Monty always give you half the planet.”

As James detailed the gifts he had received from his family and friends, he felt Sirius deflate beside him. He slumped, staring down at his plate without eating, just pushing his food around. James felt a stinging guilt in his chest.

Sirius hadn’t gotten any presents from his parents. James had received seven parcels. He had watched as Sirius tried to be excited when each one was opened, but James could see the jealousy in his eyes. It wasn’t an angry sort of jealousy. No, Sirius just seemed terribly sad.

He had cheered up throughout the rest of the day, cackling at the charmed chocolate frogs that Marlene had given James. Instead of hopping away, the chocolate frogs croaked out a “happy birthday” each time they were bitten into. It was slightly unsettling, but James polished them off nonetheless.

Now, Sirius was back to being sad. He wasn’t sulking, though James knew he wanted to. Sirius was likely thinking about the fact that even his brother hadn’t sent him anything. They had discussed it one night, and while Sirius logically knew that Regulus couldn’t have sent a present without their parents’ knowledge, it still hurt to not even have a card.

James was about to say something to Sirius, to apologise for rubbing his happy family in his face, but Remus got there first. He leant across the table, whispering in Sirius’ ear. James surreptitiously edged closer to hear.

“It’s his birthday, alright?” Remus said. “Cheer up, and then you can wallow later.”

It was rude. James wanted to tell Remus that, and he would’ve, if it hadn’t worked. Sirius swallowed hard, and immediately cheered up. He began interrogating Marlene about the charm she had used on the chocolate frogs.

The relationship between Remus and Sirius didn’t make much sense to James. They didn’t seem to like each other, not really, but more that each was fascinated by the other. James thought they viewed each other as puzzles, as a problem to work out.

James didn’t mind that much. He liked that they were all good friends now. Better than friends, they were the Marauders. Marlene often involved herself in conversation more often, and James thought that he couldn’t really complain about his birthday when all of his friends shared it with him.

When they went up to the dormitory that night, Sirius attempted to enchant some streamers to move by themselves/ They were hung from the top of James’ bed, a sky of Gryffindor red and gold. The charm wore off by the time Sirius left James’ bed for his own, but James didn’t take them down. Not that night, and not for many nights after.

Chapter Text

Saturday 15th May 1972

Exams snuck up on everyone except Remus. Peter hadn’t realised it, but all of that reading Remus had been doing had actually been revision. Peter had just thought he was going through a phase of liking non fiction texts.

The final examinations had seemed months away, until Peter had woken up in the month of May to realise that they literally were one month away. Even then, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to do anything. Everything seemed tiring, and had for a few weeks.

It was horribly embarrassing, and Peter didn’t dare tell anyone. He was beginning to find it hard to do basic tasks such as showering, and had to give himself ten minutes to just cope with the fact that he was going to get up and go into the bathroom before he could actually do anything about it.

The only time that Peter felt relaxed was when he could curl up in bed with his sketchbook. The green book was almost completely full, and he had been working on a double page spread on Billywigs for a few days. He wondered if he should show it to someone once it was finished.

But who would he show? James would act as though he appreciated it, but Peter could always tell when he wasn’t being sincere. He didn’t dare show Sirius, and Remus was too preoccupied with exams. Oh Merlin, exams.

Peter was on the verge of pulling his hair out. He hadn’t really made an improvement in any of his lessons since the start of the year. He wasn’t failing, his marks sitting smack dab in the middle of their year group, but sharing a dormitory with the three biggest overachievers in the world didn’t help Peter’s confidence.

He didn’t mind that Remus did better than him, because Remus put in ridiculous amounts of effort every day, seemingly hell bent on succeeding. James and Sirius didn’t try at all, yet they always found themselves at the top of their classes, right behind Remus and Lily Evans.

Remus and Lily spent a lot of time together, but Peter had gathered that Remus didn’t like to talk about it very much. They were awfully secretive, but Peter had bigger things to worry about, like the fact that his three best friends (they were best friends now, weren’t they?) were going to ace their final exams and Peter wasn’t even going to come close.

Everything that Peter was good at, James and Sirius were better. Everything that they struggled with, Peter found it even harder. He couldn’t structure an essay and he couldn’t master any of the practical subjects either. He was only eleven, and he was already doomed.

Soon enough, the stress had gotten too much for Peter. He had decided that even if the simplest of things felt like individually plucking every hair on his head out, he would do them anyway because he was not going to be the stupid one.

That was how Peter had found himself spending his entire Saturday in the library, a feat that even Remus hadn’t managed to pull off yet. Then again, Remus read at the speed of light and could do a day’s work in an hour. When Peter tried to read quickly, he’d mix up the order of the sentences and find himself very confused.

The library was busy for once, but it was mostly older students studying for their OWLs or NEWTs. On the way in, Peter had greeted Marlene’s older brother Shay, who was desperately trying to convince his friends to leave the library, and narrowly avoided a frantically writing Ronan McKinnon.

The duality of the two brothers’ approaches to their exams was almost laughable, if Peter had had time to laugh. Shay didn’t seem to care at all, whereas Ronan was desperate to do well. The oldest McKinnon had been dying to prove himself ever since he had lost out on Head Boy. Apparently, Ronan had moped all summer, and Marlene had banned Peter and James from mentioning the topic at all over Christmas.

Peter settled himself in a secluded corner right at the back of the library. It was close to the Restricted Section and the lights flickered constantly, which meant no one ever really came back here. He found it hard to focus when other people were around, especially in their dormitory when James and Sirius were planning their next biggest prank.

The Marauders (a name that was still yet to catch on with the wider Hogwarts population) had been relatively quiet for months now. There had been a few dungbombs set off, made by Sirius in their bathroom, but no big pranks had been pulled off. Peter supposed they had more important things to think about.

Important things like end of year exams. He had to stop getting so distracted. Fully intent on focusing, Peter opened his Potions textbook to discover that he actually had no idea how to revise.

He would have to ask Remus.

***

Peter had made a terrible mistake. In theory, asking Remus for help with revision had been a good idea. Remus was clever, and he worked extremely hard to keep his place at the top of their classes. It wasn’t a far leap for Peter to assume that Remus had worked out a few effective studying methods.

Only it wasn’t a few. The moment the words left Peter’s mouth, Remus was throwing all sorts at him. Suddenly, Peter had more flashcards and revision guides and quizzes and practice questions than anyone could use in their lifetime.

The worst part was how excited Remus was when Peter had asked. It was as though he had been waiting for someone to inquire about his revision methods for ages, and Peter was the only unfortunate soul who had been stupid enough to ask.

“I’ve been trying to bother Sirius and James to revise, but they don’t listen!” Remus added another textbook to the pile in Peter’s arms. “They keep saying that they don’t need to, but they’ll see. I’m going to beat them, and Lily probably will too. I reckon you can too, if you start studying now.”

“I don’t want to beat them,” Peter said meekly, now unable to see over the stack of books and notes in his arms. “I just want to pass everything. I’m aiming for a sixty percent average–”

“Sixty percent?!”

“Uhh, sixty five?”

Remus shook his head, pulling out a large roll of parchment. He began drawing a large box with a strange sort of quill that Peter hadn’t seen before. There was no feather, and Remus didn’t have an ink well either, yet the quill wrote anyway.

He was about to ask what sort of Muggle contraption this was when James and Sirius entered. They had been to watch the Prewett brothers pull off their latest prank, after following them about for days as they planned it. It was rather pathetic, but it made James and Sirius happy.

They glanced between the table Remus was drawing out and Peter’s arms, which were laden with more books than an eleven year old should ever have to see, let alone carry and read. James frowned, kicking off his shoes.

“What’s all this?” he asked, sitting down on his bed. “And what in the name of Merlin is Lupin using?”

“It’s a pen,” Remus said dryly, holding up the peculiar device. “A biro. You’re telling me you’ve never seen a biro before?”

All three of them shook their heads. Remus gave an exasperated sigh before filling in the table he had drawn out. It looked quite complicated from where Peter was standing, and it couldn’t mean anything good. It likely meant more revision.

Sirius plonked down next to Remus, earning himself a hard stare that didn’t seem to deter him in the slightest. Peter watched as Remus snatched his parchment away from Sirius, looking more like a covetous child than a twelve year old.

Twelve felt awfully grown up to Peter. Nearly all of the first years had turned twelve by now, but Peter was still only eleven. It was one of the things he hated about having a summer birthday, as well as not being able to celebrate it with his friends.

The Pettigrews always went away for the summer, taking their caravan to the coast. It was lovely when Paul was there, but Peter didn’t expect he’d have much fun with just Penny and his parents. Maybe Paul would come back for his birthday at least. Peter could only hope.

“Remus, what have you drawn?” Sirius exclaimed, looking mildly alarmed.

“It’s a revision timetable!”

Remus held up his parchment proudly as the other three Marauders gathered around. He had drawn out a table that allotted a different subject to be studied on every day up until their exams. Topics were allocated for different days, and Remus had even written what kind of revision to do for each topic.

It should’ve been helpful. Peter liked routines, and having everything planned out for him should’ve been a comfort. He only found himself wondering how Remus could’ve done all of that in ten minutes, as well as feeling extremely panicked. There was just so much to do. Peter knew he’d burn out after the first few days, so was there even a point in trying?

Seemingly able to sense the lack of enthusiasm for his revision timetable, which was in fact colour coded, Remus lowered his parchment. Beside him, Sirius was trembling. Peter couldn’t understand why until the shaking came to the boil and Sirius started cackling at Remus.

James soon joined him, the two of them rolling around on the floor as they laughed. Remus looked to Peter for reassurance, but he could only offer a sheepish shrug. Rising to his feet, Remus gathered up his revision timetable and his books and his flashcards and his quizzes and his revision guides and bloody hell, he really was prepared.

“I’ll leave then,” he huffed, giving Sirius a quick kick to the ribs. “I’m sure Lily and her friends will be much more appreciative of my hard work.”

“Go on to your girls, Remus,” Sirius snorted, clutching his side.

Peter suspected that Remus’ kick had caused Sirius no pain at all. No, it was likely Sirius’ laughter that was causing a sting in his side. Only Peter couldn’t really see why they were laughing at all. Exams were too soon to be laughing about anything.

Chapter Text

Friday 26th May 1972

Lily and her friends did in fact appreciate Remus’ revision timetable.

It turned out that Lily was already planning on creating one, and she was delighted to find that Remus was so prepared. He hadn’t initially thought that Mary MacDonald seemed very academic, but she was apparently determined to do well by the end of the year. Marlene was still trying to avoid the thought of exams.

So, Remus found himself in an odd sort of routine. He would spend his days with the Marauders, and when lessons ended, he would go to the library with Mary and Lily. They would study for a few hours, and then at lunch, Remus would be returned to the boys.

Marlene did the opposite, occupying herself with James and Sirius’ antics while her friends revised. It felt as though Remus and Marlene were being traded between the two groups. Remus didn’t mind this; at least the girls’ ideas didn’t involve potentially getting themselves killed.

Lily was becoming slightly less terrifying as Remus spent more time with her. They had officially run out of stock, and had great plans for the next year. Though neither of them had discussed it, they didn’t mention their operation to Mary. It was just theirs.

Remus discovered that as threatening as she could be, Lily was overwhelmingly nice. There was really no other word for it, and Remus didn’t think he’d ever met anyone so nice. She was always dishing out compliments, and she really seemed to see the best in everyone. He thought that Lily wouldn’t care if he was a werewolf, but he didn’t risk telling her.

Mary wasn’t nice in the slightest. Remus loved it. She was truly mean, and it made Remus feel much better about the fact that he was rather mean too. Mary somehow knew all of the gossip and drama that happened in the castle, even things going on with the seventh years.

She was sarcastically witty and didn’t think twice before delivering some of the cruelest insults Remus had ever heard. He had thought many of them, muttered them under his breath, but Mary just said them out loud in her South London accent that added a cheeky edge to every word. It was brilliant.

Girls really weren’t that bad after all. Remus thought that he had really been missing out on being friends with them, though he didn’t appreciate it when Mary had called him “one of the girls.” However, he put up with it because Mary typically said that before she was about to share the most shocking piece of gossip in Hogwarts’ history.

The other Marauders made fun of him for spending his evenings with Lily and Mary. Sirius had even dubbed them the Swot Squad, but a sharp comment from Mary had ensured that he never said that in front of her again.

They didn’t really do that much revision anyway. Textbooks were open, flashcards were turned over and over, notes were lazily made, but they weren’t taking any of it in. The gossip was the main focus.

“You know Bodhi Rune?” Mary said, painting her nails.

“The Gryffindor Quidditch Captain?”

Mary nodded, blowing on her now purple nails. It was violet, Remus had been informed, but all he cared about were the fumes he was likely inhaling. That, and whatever was going on with Bodhi Rune.

“Well, he’s had this whole rivalry thing going on with Madison Spinnet,” Mary began, as the three of them leaned in. “She’s the Ravenclaw seeker. Anyway, they’re supposed to hate each other, ever since Bodhi cheated on Madison’s older sister Stella. Stella’s nineteen now, and I think she works at St Mungo’s–”

“Get to the point, Mary!” said Lily, who had completely given up on going through her Transfiguration notes.

“Right, sorry! Judi Seabright caught Madison and Bodhi snogging in the changing rooms after the match!”

“No!” Remus heard himself gasp. “Her sister’s ex-boyfriend?”

“I know,” Mary giggled gleefully. “Now, there’s all these rumours that Madison was the one Bodhi cheated on Stella with last year, only I don’t think that’s it. I think that all their hatred just turned into lust.”

Remus rolled his eyes at Mary, but he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t intrigued. James idolised Bodhi Rune, and if he was more inclined to rumours, Remus would’ve shared this newfound information with him. James didn’t seem the type to gossip.

Mary continued on in her typical manner of acting as though she was an expert on all things, informing Lily on how hate and love were just strong emotions at the end of the day and that all emotions are fluid. Remus returned to his revision, wondering how much longer he could think about the Draught of Living Death before becoming tempted to drink it himself.

He silently reminded himself why he was working so hard. One day, Remus was going to find a cure for his lycanthropy and he would never have to be the wolf again. It felt better to call it lycanthropy instead of just being a werewolf. It meant he didn’t have to think about what he was.

His transformations were better at Hogwarts than they were at home. While she couldn’t do much to stop the full moons from being painful, Madam Pomfrey could patch him up far better than his father could. She was a little more sympathetic too, in a way that Lyall Lupin had never been.

Remus managed to get halfway down the page of his Potions textbook before Mary said something about third years using Aging potions to date older boys. That was a far more interesting use of potions than anything he could read.

***

Friday 30th June 1972

The Swot Squad revision sessions had paid off. Remus and Lily were at the top of all of their classes, which infuriated James and Sirius. They had assumed that their natural aptitude would carry them through and were scandalised to find themselves in third or fourth, or sometimes even lower than that. Remus didn’t think either of them had ever been anything other than number one.

Peter had achieved his sixty percent average, sixty-two actually, and was content enough with that. Mary chatted too much to be top of the class, but had done quite well in most of her subjects. They would just have to start revising earlier next year, she had said, though Remus was sure she just wanted an excuse for the three of them to spend more time together.

The exam period had sped by in a flurry of parchment and quills until Remus found himself back on the Hogwarts express. The girls had joined the Marauders, and the seven of them were squashed into one compartment. They wouldn’t be able to get away with that much longer.

Remus was pressed up against the window as Mary had turned to braid Marlene’s long blonde hair, pushing him further to the side. It was rather uncomfortable and Remus had given up on reading his book.

He had read far too many books that year, according to Sirius. Including textbooks and Remus’ recreational reading, the total was close to two hundred different volumes. Remus had initially found himself hungry for knowledge, and in his desperation to understand the wizarding world, he had discovered many things. His Muggle books could hardly compare.

It was going to be strange to be back in the non-magical world. Christmas felt like a lifetime ago, and even those few weeks had been a struggle. Remus found himself appreciating and resenting his father for keeping magic from him all these years.

The accents would take getting used to as well. Remus’ Welsh lilt had faded slightly, perhaps due to the terrible impressions Sirius insisted on doing all of the time. Remus thought that he would miss Marlene’s Irish tone or the way Mary’s South London accent rounded her words. He would even miss the posh cadence of Lily, James, Peter and Sirius.

James and Sirius were sitting opposite Remus in the compartment, engaged in a rather dramatic goodbye despite the fact there was nearly an hour of the journey left before they reached King’s Cross. They had been like this all day.

“Do you promise to write every day?” James sniffled, his eyes misty.

“I’ll write twice a day, Jamie, twice!” Sirius wiped his equally damp eyes. “I’ll send as many letters as I can until Mother and Father take the owl away from me, and then I’ll get my brother to send them!”

“I’m going to miss you so much!”

Remus rolled his eyes. They really were far too co-dependent. Sometimes, he found himself feeling a twinge of jealousy towards the relationship that Sirius and James had. They knew each other inside and out; they were brothers.

But they didn’t have Lily and Mary. They didn’t appreciate Peter, who was far more interesting than he got credit for. Remus thought that they didn’t have Madam Pomfrey either, but he shook that thought out of his head. She was the school nurse, and he was one of hundreds of students that had ever entered the hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey had sent him home with a variety of potions and ointments in his trunk. Thankfully, she had given him the salve that healed his scars instantly. Remus didn’t fancy his dad’s methods: TCP and plasters that fell off the moment the air grew a little damp.

“Rem, check out this braid I’ve done on Marls!”

Wondering when he had been given that nickname, Remus turned towards Mary. Marlene’s golden hair was now in a long plait that went all the way down her back, and Remus was mildly impressed that Mary had done it so quickly. He gave an appreciative nod that seemed to appease the girls, and turned his gaze back out the window.

He caught the smirk on Sirius’ face, the amused upturn of his lips. Remus wasn’t going to dignify that with a response, keeping his eyes locked on the view of London approaching. This seemed to bother Sirius, who resumed his dramatic farewell with even more rigour.

The compartment was loud with the sounds of friendly chatter. Mary was humming under her breath as she tied a Gryffindor red ribbon at the end of Marlene’s braid. Remus could hear the clinking of coins in Lily’s pink purse that she kept in the pocket of her robes.

Platform 9 ¾ was loud with the sounds of families reuniting. James hugged his parents (who bore a frightening resemblance to him and each other) for almost a full minute before pulling away. Sirius was gone, silently slinking away towards a woman with the same high cheekbones, only they looked more severe on her.

It was only when Remus got into his father’s car that the noise stopped. It did not resume for a long time.

Chapter Text

Sirius desperately wanted to be a bad son. He wanted to cause chaos and irritate his mother until she screamed. He wanted to pull so many pranks that Father was forced to leave his study just to tell Sirius what a bad child he was. He wanted to paint the entire house in Gryffindor colours and blow up the kitchen.

He did none of those things.

The moment he had arrived at Grimmauld Place, the Hogwarts version of Sirius was gone. He had waited until Mother was out of sight to hug Regulus, marvelling at how they were almost the same height. Regulus was quieter, more withdrawn, and Sirius dreaded to think about him facing all of their parents’ punishments alone while he was away. Not anymore, Sirius decided.

Grimmauld Place Sirius was a good son. He kept his room neat and tidy. He only entered Father’s office to refill his teacup and he left immediately after. He wore formal robes all the time, always starched and ironed and pressed.

He was quiet when family came to visit. Sirius stayed silent when Uncle Cygnus and Aunt Druella spoke of their two daughters, not mentioning the fact that Andromeda was his cousin too. He didn’t relax when talking to Uncle Alphard until he could be certain that his mother was out of ear shot.

James would laugh if he could see Sirius now. Only he wouldn’t, and that made everything hurt just a little more. James would be terribly sympathetic, and Sirius just knew that he’d try to hug him. That was why he didn’t tell James a thing.

As predicted, Sirius’ owl privileges had been revoked the moment he returned. He had managed to liaise with James so that his letters would instead be addressed to Regulus, who was still allowed to receive post. Regulus would pass the letters to Sirius, and use James’ owl to send any letters back.

It was a flawless plan. Only the Blacks had never been rational. It didn’t matter how well Sirius performed his duties as the Black heir, didn’t matter if he was quiet or docile or demure. The punishments came anyway, and Sirius made sure they always came to him.

Sirius had been foolish enough to hope his parents wouldn’t hurt him anymore, but of course, he had been wrong. The first punishment Sirius had received was only a week after he had returned from Hogwarts.

He had been sitting in his bedroom, reading through a letter from James, when he heard Mother’s footsteps on the stairs. He stashed the letter under his bed and rose to his feet, hands folded primly in front of him.

But she didn’t come to his room. She went straight into Regulus’ bedroom, and Sirius was following behind as fast as his feet would take him. He had been granted the luxury of months away, months where no one laid a finger on him out of malice. He could handle it.

“Regulus Arcturus Black!”

That was never good. Sirius hung in the doorway of his brother’s room, lingering behind his mother. She was pointing her slender finger in Regulus' face, and the look upon it made Sirius want to be sick. Regulus wasn’t cowering as he used to; he was completely stoic.

“Yes, Mother?” Regulus said in a monotone voice.

THWACK!!!

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut as Mother’s hand connected with Regulus’ cheek. He felt the blow as if she had struck his own face, trembling as he hid in the doorway. Frantically, his eyes darted around as he tried to figure out what Regulus had done wrong. That way, he could take the blame instead.

His mother was standing there with her hands on her hips, her dark hair long down her back– that was it! Walburga Black always wore her hair up, prim and proper. It was always secured by a Slytherin green jade pin that had been a wedding gift from Father. Regulus had stolen the pin.

He would never ask Regulus why he had taken it. Perhaps it was to punish their mother for all of their belongings that had been confiscated or thrown out or burned before them. Perhaps it was to have that smallest bit of control over the dictator of their home. Perhaps the reason didn’t matter at all.

“Give it to me,” Sirius mouthed as his little brother’s eyes darted to him.

As Regulus slipped his hand into his jacket pocket, Sirius swaggered into the room. He projected all of the confidence that Hogwarts Sirius had, slouching and smirking. That drew Mother’s attention immediately, because the Blacks didn’t have decorum lessons for nothing.

When he felt Regulus push the pin into the rear pocket of his trousers, Sirius spoke to his mother in a way that he should never have dared. He managed to keep the fear out of his voice, hoping she couldn’t see it in his eyes.

“Your hair looks a little untidy, Mother. Not very, uhh, Toujours Pur.”

“Sirius Orion Black, go to your bedroom at once!”

Mother had reverted to French, as she always did when scolding them. Sirius often wished he had never learnt his mother’s native tongue so that he couldn’t hear the insults and obscenities thrown at them. He wondered if she spoke French purely so their father couldn’t hear what she was saying, but he doubted it. Orion would only approve.

She was angry, pure fury flickering in her lifeless black eyes. That was good. Sirius could work with anger. His parents were rarely predictable in their punishments, but Sirius knew just what it took to enrage them. He used to use that information to avoid being punished, but he supposed there was a first time for everything.

Slowly, as though approaching a rabid animal, Sirius procured the jade pin. He twirled it between his fingers like he used to do with his wand, briefly wondering if the removal of his wand would be his punishment. Mother was rather fond of taking their things away, and Sirius wasn’t allowed to do magic at home anyway. His wand would have to be returned to him before he went back to Hogwarts. Sirius could deal without a wand for two months.

“When I go to my room, shall I take this with me?”

Each hit was a hit that Regulus would’ve suffered instead, Sirius thought as his mother pushed him onto his knees. He was protecting his little brother, Sirius reminded himself as the jade pin was used to lift his chin. Regulus was safe, Sirius remembered as his mother’s spit landed on his cheek.

When the Cruciatus Curse was cast upon him, leaving him writhing in pain on his knees, Sirius’ only regret was that Regulus had to watch.

***

Marlene was having a rather boring summer. James was too busy moping over his boyfriend Sirius Black because apparently two letters a day wasn’t enough for him, and Peter had gone away in his caravan. Marlene was starved for entertainment, and she certainly wasn’t going to find it at home.

She was on babysitting duty most of the time. Aisling and Aoife weren’t that bad, but six year olds didn’t make for great company. All they wanted to do was play dress up or have Marlene make up storylines for their Snuggle Sprouts.

Snuggle Sprouts were the worst invention of all time in Marlene’s opinion. They were little leafy plant dolls with ridiculously large eyes and glittery petals. They chirped and giggled when they were played with, which didn’t really match the dystopian war plot line that Marlene had been going for.

Aisling and Aoife had a Snuggle Sprout each, and though the dolls looked exactly the same, the twins grew extremely angry if Marlene gave them the wrong one. After the first few days of summer, Marlene was ready to flush both dolls down the toilet, and maybe her little sisters as well.

Her older brothers were no help at all, since her mam was a firm believer that looking after children was a woman’s job. Marlene thought that was shite, and had been clipped around the ear for saying that to Mam’s face.

Ronan seemed to be having an existential crisis after finishing his NEWTs, just wandering around the house aimlessly. Marlene thought it was rather funny to watch him realise that all his relentless studying had left him with no friends. It wasn’t so funny once she’d seen Ronan crying about it, curled up in Mam’s arms like a baby.

Shay, on the other hand, was never in the house. There was always a mate or a girlfriend at the door begging for him to come out, and Mam could never say no to her precious boy. Da (the voice of reason) left early for work in the mornings. This was only good when Marlene used it to her advantage, and Shay’s constant disappearances were getting boring.

He wouldn’t be Mammy’s golden boy once he got his results. Marlene knew for a fact that Shay hadn’t done a scrap of revision for his OWLs, even though he was spinning tales of hard work as soon as he came home. Marlene doubted that he’d even pass.

Darragh, however, was a literal blessing. The two of them shared a room, and he was no doubt her favourite sibling. He had offered to watch the twins for Marlene when Mary had called to ask if Marlene and Lily wanted to come visit her. After some confusion about the Floo Network, Marlene was there.

Mary lived in a flat in London with her mother. She was an only child, and her father had passed away when she was small. Marlene couldn’t imagine living with only one other person, not having to share your bedroom with your brother, never having to wait to use the bathroom. It sounded like a dream and a nightmare all rolled up into one.

The girls spent the day lounging in Mary’s living room, flicking through her magazines. Marlene marvelled at the still pictures. How did the camera manage to get the people to stop moving? Muggles really were interesting.

Donna, Mary’s mother, didn’t seem to mind their talk of Hogwarts and magic. She just pointed towards the strange statuettes and pictures she had all around her kitchen, saying that was the real magic. Marlene didn’t really know what that meant, but Donna MacDonald was too lovely a woman for her to question a word.

She wasn’t very tall, but she seemed to dominate the room. She wasn’t an imposing presence, more of a comforting one. When the conversation lulled, Marlene could notice that Donna was singing quietly under her breath in Spanish. Marlene wondered if Mary could speak it too, but she didn’t ask.

Marlene begrudgingly let the girls paint her stubby nails, opting for a scarlet colour. Gryffindor red, she thought as Lily carefully applied the polish. Mary was doing her own nails, putting a glittery coat over the purple.

“If I was a colour,” Mary mused, “I think I’d be purple. I think you’d be red too, Marls.”

“What would I be?” Lily asked, blowing gently on Marlene’s nails.

“Pink,” Mary and Marlene said in unison.

This seemed to please Lily, who immediately fished out a bottle of baby pink nail varnish for herself. Marlene thought that Lily didn’t just wear a lot of pink, she embodied it. She was gentle and girly and so terribly soft. Marlene doubted that Lily had ever had a mean thought in her life.

Mary was definitely purple, a deep violet like the colour her nails were painted. She was striking and passionate, always saying what she meant and catching everyone’s eye. Marlene was grateful to have Mary with her at Hogwarts, soaking up all the attention that Marlene knew she couldn’t handle herself. Mary loved attention.

Red made sense for Marlene. She was impatient and audacious. She was easily angered, and couldn’t control her temper to save her life. More than that, she was a proud Gryffindor until she died.

Darragh was a Hufflepuff, while Shay was a Gryffindor. Ronan had been in Ravenclaw, the perfect place for a grumpy little neek. There hadn’t been a Slytherin McKinnon yet, but Marlene thought her evil little twin sisters were perfect contenders.

The day came to an end too soon, and Marlene could hardly bring herself to leave. She loved Lily and Mary dearly, and even Mary’s mum had seemed disappointed that she couldn’t stay for tea. It was only a month until she would see them again, but it felt like a lifetime.

***

Peter did not have fun on holiday. They had taken the caravan to the coast, somewhere near Brighton. The caravan felt both cramped and far too spacious without Paul, who was still yet to return.

It was all his parents spoke about. They would wake up and complain about Paul until the sun set, never once thinking of sending a letter to the address he’d left. Peter would do anything to get his hands on that address, but his parents were intent on keeping it from him.

His parents were always in the caravan or down at the local wizarding pub, the Grey Goblin. Peter was sure that every single patron of that pub knew about Paul by now. He wondered if they were as sick of hearing about him as he was.

So, Peter spent most of his summer either filling in his new sketchbook (identical to the first) or with Penny. She really wasn’t all that bad once Peter had figured out what she liked. Eight year olds were really quite simple.

Penny liked the beach, and although Peter didn’t really see the appeal, he took her there anyway. The weather was miserable for most of the summer, always rainy and grey, and the sea was nearly always freezing.

Still, Peter held Penny’s hand as they jumped the waves, his trousers rolled up. They got damp anyway. He put up with the feeling of sand in his socks and shoes, even though it made him want to hack his feet off entirely. He bought her ice cream with the money their parents gave them each day, and he always let her add a Flake.

On a rare warm day in August, the pair of Pettigrews sat on the rocks at the back of the beach. Penny had demolished her ice cream already, licking the white residue from around her mouth. Peter silently handed her a napkin.

She was going to get ice cream on his jumper, but he didn’t really mind. Penny had been adamant about wearing her new dress, which had glittery pink butterflies on it that apparently made it the height of fashion, even though Mum had told her she would be cold. Sure enough, she was.

Peter had said nothing as he had put his jumper over her head. It was one of his favourites, a brown knitted jumper that zipped up over his chin. It was well worn in, soft in the places he couldn’t bear a rough texture, and it smelled like home. It also stopped Penny from whining about the cold coastal winds.

Wiping her chin with the napkin, Penny shifted closer to Peter on the rock. He looked down at her as he finished the last bit of his ice cream cone. She looked like Peter, he thought, with the same flaxen hair curling around her temples. Her pale blue eyes were the same colour as his as she stared up at him.

“You’re my best brother, Petey,” Penny said, curling up in Peter’s jumper.

“What about Paul?”

He hated that Paul was his first thought. Peter had always wanted to be exactly like his older brother for as long as he could remember. Paul wasn’t short or round. Paul never said the wrong thing; he was charismatic and charming. Paul was his parents’ favourite child, and Peter wondered if they’d be so distressed if he was the one that had run away.

But Paul wasn’t there now. Mum and Dad weren’t there either. It was just Penny and Peter, and somehow that felt right. Peter didn’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing, because Penny would just laugh and say something even more nonsensical.

“Paul went away,” Penny said, kicking her legs out in front of her. “He doesn’t buy me ice cream or skip waves with me or let me wear his favourite jumper. Even Daddy doesn’t do that.”

“Those aren’t the things that make someone a good brother,” Peter said reflexively, looking out at the grey ocean ahead. “I’m supposed to, I don’t know, protect you and make you happy and that stuff.”

“But you do,” Penny blinked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and that was the end of that.

Every day, after they had eaten their ice cream, they would traipse back to the caravan slowly. Penny would always beg Peter to carry her back, and he would always say no. He would surely drop her, or she’d feel too heavy on his back or his shoulders would grow uncomfortably sweaty from where she was holding on.

That day, Peter silently bent down. Penny hopped up onto his back and when her arms were around his shoulders, her little legs tightly clamped around his middle, Peter wasn’t uncomfortable at all. If he was her best brother, she was the best sister.

Chapter Text

It felt like years since he had seen Sirius, and James didn’t even doubt it when he saw double. Sirius’s hair had been cropped short again, neat and gelled in a way that Sirius would never be while they were at Hogwarts. He was already wearing his school robes, looking like an idiot amidst the casual robes on the platform.

Sirius’ parents were nowhere to be seen, but standing beside him was a second, slightly smaller Sirius. This Sirius was also wearing school robes, though they bore no house emblem. A first year Sirius.

Hugging his parents tightly, James gestured vaguely towards Sirius. He couldn’t hold himself back from sprinting down the platform towards him for much longer. He hugged his mother once more.

“I’m going to see Sirius!”

“I didn’t know Sirius had a brother,” Mum said.

Oh. There wasn’t a second Sirius. This was Sirius’ brother Regulus. The Regulus that had been kept away from his older brother over Christmas as punishment for being in Gryffindor. The Regulus that had orchestrated James and Sirius’ correspondences over the summer. The Regulus that would always be Sirius’ brother when James could not.

James dashed down the platform, nearly tripping over his untied shoelaces. He paused only to apologise profusely for hitting a frightened first year with his trunk before running once more.

He bumped into Sirius with a thump, tackling him into an embrace as though they were spouses reuniting after war. James supposed they were soulmates in some way. Sirius returned his hug with equal fervour, wailing dramatically.

“Oh, Jamie! How I’ve missed you!”

“We must never part again, my dearest Sirius!”

“This is James?”

Both of them looked up as the other Sirius– no, Regulus spoke. He was rather quiet, with an expression of mild displeasure on his face. His arms were folded in front of his chest as he looked James up and down.

Sirius threw an arm around James’ shoulder as though presenting him to Regulus. James tried his best to look passable. He didn’t care for the approval of Sirius’ parents, but Regulus’ approval seemed vital in that moment.

“Jamie, this is my little brother Regulus,” Sirius said, beaming proudly. “Reggie, this is my best friend James Fleamont Potter.”

James felt a warm glow in his chest. He was Sirius’ best friend. Sirius was his too, though he wouldn’t tell Peter or Marlene that. He could have multiple best friends, couldn’t he?

Regulus didn’t look as pleased with this, swatting James’ hand away when he offered it to shake. He didn’t even touch him, just waving him away in the air with the snobby manner that Sirius had lost. James hadn’t won his approval then.

The three of them walked down the platform together, Sirius in the middle like a sort of barrier between his two lives. Hogwarts and home. Home and Hogwarts. James wondered if the notion that they could blend harmoniously was foolish.

Regulus was quiet as Sirius begged James to detail his summer. James did as he always would, leaving out the best details and never complaining about what he thought was the worst. He knew Sirius’ summer hadn’t been good without him having to utter a word.

He had seen the scars now. The scars that were carefully placed so no one would see unless Sirius showed them, because Walburga and Orion Black thought Sirius would never have anyone to show. They were wrong. He had James, he would always have James.

They had been sitting on James’ bed one night when Sirius had told him about his parents’ abuse, raising the hem of his nightshirt to show the uniform slashes across his stomach. Sirius would never call it abuse, and James wouldn’t either, at least not to his face. James hadn’t told a soul.

It had been painful to hold it in, but he had promised Sirius. For the entire summer, the words had been on the tip of James’ tongue. He could tell his parents, and he knew they would rescue Sirius. If James had asked, they would’ve rescued Regulus too. But a promise was a promise.

“Reggie, you can sit with us,” Sirius said as they stepped onto the Hogwarts Express. “You’ll love Remus, he’s so mean to me, it’s hilarious!”

“I can sit with you?” Regulus asked quietly.

Regulus looked very small in that moment. As he stared up at his older brother, James noticed that his eyes weren’t the same silvery grey as Sirius’s were. Regulus’ eyes were of the palest blue, so startling that James couldn’t imagine how he hadn’t noticed them before.

They sat down in an empty compartment. Regulus looked slightly repulsed by Sirius’ decision to sit next to James instead of him. The youngest Black sat on the opposite side by himself, close to the door as though he was planning on making an escape.

Peter found them first. He was quite sheepish when greeting Regulus, avoiding his eyes. James knew that Peter liked to be prepared for when he was going to meet new people, typically having a few conversation topics prepared.

“So, you’re brothers?” Peter said awkwardly, sitting as far away from Regulus as possible.

“Obviously– ow!”

Regulus’ dry comment earned him a kick in the shins from a smirking Sirius. James felt himself relax a little. He had wondered if the brothers’ relationship would be strained from living in their household, but they seemed as close as James and Sirius were.

“Don’t be mean to my friends, Reggie.” Sirius wagged his finger. “You haven’t exactly got any friends of your own, have you?”

“I just got here,” Regulus sighed in an exasperated manner that reminded James of Remus. “I can’t be expected to make friends when I haven’t actually met anyone, now can I?”

“I promise he isn’t normally like this,” Sirius huffed.

Remus arrived next with the information that the girls were just in the toilet. Regulus looked mildly scandalised about this fact, unable to stop himself from whispering to Sirius.

“You’re friends with… girls?”

“Calm down, Reg,” Sirius snorted. “They aren’t a bloody foreign species.”

“You were exactly the same when you first got here,” James interjected. “You wouldn’t even talk to Marlene for almost a week, and she’s practically a boy.”

“I’m practically a what?”

Shit. Marlene had arrived.

***

Sirius was buzzing at the sorting ceremony. James could feel him shaking beside him, and neither of them had touched their food. Their eyes were pinned on the front of the Great Hall, waiting for the sorting to begin.

James knew why Sirius was so worried. His relationship with his brother depended on what house the younger Black was sorted into. If Regulus was sorted into Slytherin, he would be whisked away from Sirius by pureblood supremacists. Narcissa Black, who somehow looked even more blonde than the previous year, looked equally as nervous over one the Slytherin table.

If Regulus was sorted into Gryffindor, Sirius wouldn’t be an outcast anymore. Or he would, but he’d have his brother to be an outcast with. James knew that if that happened, he would lose Sirius just a little bit. He didn’t mind.

Being an only child, James didn’t really understand sibling relationships, but he imagined it was much like his relationship with Marlene and Peter. They had known each other forever and were as good as family by now. Even when they fought, they always knew they would make up. James thought that a brother was like a built-in best friend.

He hoped that Sirius wouldn’t lose his built-in best friend to Slytherin house. Maybe the bond of brothers transcended that, but James knew it would put a strain on their relationship. If he had to leave Sirius for two months every summer, he would like him to have Regulus to speak to and have fun with.

If Regulus was a Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, it would be perfect, James thought. Sirius could keep him, as he wouldn’t be a Slytherin, but there wouldn’t be as big of a scandal. Hufflepuffs and Slytherins got along quite well, strangely, and Ravenclaws were respected for their knowledge.

James just wished the ceremony would start already, so he didn’t have to keep theorising. His mind often ran away from him, concocting all sorts of fantastical outcomes that rarely ever came true.

As luck would have it, Regulus’ name was the first to be called. He approached Slughorn, who was doing the Sorting this year, without an inch of emotion on his face. James had seen Sirius like that, purposely hiding even a hint of his feelings as though he expected them to be weaponised against him.

The hat barely brushed Regulus’ dark curls before crying out, “SLYTHERIN!”

James felt Sirius deflate beside him. He sank down in his seat, head resting on the table as cheers erupted from the Slytherin table. Regulus sat down right next to Narcissa, his face still blank and emotionless.

He didn’t look over at Sirius once, and Sirius didn’t look over at him.

Regulus was eventually joined by two more Slytherin boys that James didn’t catch the name of, and a smattering of girls who already seemed to be forming a coven. At least Regulus would have some friends though the boys looked rather strange.

Both were as ghostly pale as Regulus, which seemed to be a Slytherin trait. One had brown hair and kept licking his lips as he looked around in a way that could only be described as shifty. The other had bright blonde hair that almost looked dyed, and seemed to carry the same regal air that Sirius had shown up with.

These two boys attempted to engage Regulus in conversation, but he wouldn’t lift his eyes from his plate. Narcissa looked smug to have her baby cousin by her side, and she cast several glances over to the Gryffindor table.

Sirius didn’t eat a thing. James piled food onto his plate, imploring him to just take one bite and watching in vain as the plate was slid over to Remus. With an apologetic look, he polished off all of Sirius’ food, as well as his own and some of Lily’s roast potatoes.

In the dormitory that night, Sirius didn’t come to James’ bed. James fretted for what felt like hours but was likely mere minutes, wondering if he wanted James to come to his bed instead or if Sirius simply wanted to be left alone.

Surely he would want to talk. James and Sirius talked about everything, the bad and the good. Didn’t Sirius know that he didn’t have to bottle up his feelings when he had James, that he didn’t have to put on the mask that James had seen both brothers wear?

When he finally gathered up enough courage to sneak across the small distance to Sirius’ bed, James realised that he did in fact want to be left alone. The curtains were locked, some sort of charm that James was sure they hadn’t learned yet. He couldn’t pull them apart and after a few minutes he gave up on trying.

He didn’t sleep that night. There was a strange feeling in his stomach, twisting and writhing until he felt nauseous. The feeling pushed up against his stomach, winding its way up James’ throat and resting on his tongue. He wouldn’t sleep, just in case Sirius needed him.

The morning came, but Sirius never did.

Chapter Text

Thursday 14th September 1972

Life at Hogwarts had almost instantly reverted back to normal. Remus had thought that everyone would have drastically changed over the summer, yet it felt like first year all over again. He hadn’t changed one bit, apart from getting a rather bad sunburn from the only hot day of the year.

Sirius’ hair was shorn short again in that too neat way it had been at the start of first year. James had grown a little taller, which he seemed terribly proud of. Peter was still Peter, and all the girls looked the same too. The biggest change had been that Marlene had gotten her ears pierced at last, which Remus didn’t really care much about.

Business, however, was booming. Remus and Lily had taken over the entire confectionary sector, running a sort of pick and mix out of Remus’ trunk. Much to his roommates’ chagrin, he had just dumped the entire contents of his suitcase onto the floor beside his bed in order to free up room for his bon bons and toffees. The other three Marauders were neat freaks and had looked as though they wanted to kill Remus.

It was hard to care about that when they were so successful. Lupin-Evans Enterprises (a name that Remus had immediately shot down) were already raking in profits, cornering a new market of first years who couldn’t imagine that the kind second years were extorting them. If they wanted a fair price, they should’ve just bought it themselves. No one was complaining, not to Remus at least.

Their study group had started up already, though there was even less studying going on than last year. Mary lived in a flat in London, and apparently there wasn’t a sane person in her building. Remus couldn’t even open a textbook because he was too intrigued by the dog custody fight in 3A or the potential Seer in 6D.

They had been kicked out of the library on the third day of term, potentially a new record for the entire school. Mary had been updating them on the Bodhi Rune drama, informing Remus and Lily that after finishing Hogwarts, Bodhi had broken up with Madison Spinnet and gone back to her sister Stella. Lily had shrieked loudly, alerting Madam Pince. When the sour librarian had noticed that they didn’t have a single book out, the three of them had been removed.

The Marauders had attempted to perform several pranks, but were always thwarted by Filch and his mangy cat catching them out of bed. Sirius, who had returned to pranking with a worrisome amount of enthusiasm after his week-long sulk, had declared the ten o’clock curfew his greatest enemy.

And that was how the idea had come about. Truly, it was one of the worst ideas that the Marauders had ever had, as a collective or as individuals. Remus didn’t doubt that they were going to do it anyway.

“They can’t say we’re out of bed if we’re still in bed, can they?”

“Yes, Sirius,” Remus said dryly. “I believe that is the premise.”

Remus managed to dodge the pillow Sirius had thrown across the dorm, launching it back at him. The four of them were sprawled lazily on the floor, though Peter didn’t seem to be able to sit still. He was drawing in a green sketchbook, but he wouldn’t let anyone see what he was drawing.

The dormitory was filled with a sticky kind of heat that had led them all to shed their cloaks and ties. September had decided to be warm, warmer than the Welsh countryside had been all summer. Remus had craved the sun for those months, but now found himself wishing it would just go away. Scotland was supposed to be rainy and grey after all.

“So,” Sirius continued, “if we levitated our beds out into the castle, we could be out past curfew, because we’d still be in our beds. Just… outside.”

“What?”

Surely Remus had heard that wrong. Surely Sirius wasn’t stupid enough to think that all four of them could somehow fit their beds through the tiny dormitory door, and then through the portrait again. Surely Sirius didn’t believe that McGonnagall would entertain such logic. Surely James wasn’t nodding along– but of course, the truth was never what Remus wanted it to be.

James had actually sprung up from where he was laying, sitting upright. He snatched his glasses from the floor and put them on as though enlightened, looking about like he was experiencing some sort of higher intelligence.

“That is… brilliant!”

“It is not,” Remus tried, but they were already ahead of themselves.

“We could teleport them out into the hallway, then get in bed and fly off,” Sirius said triumphantly.

Remus got the feeling that although he wasn’t involved in this ridiculous conversation, he would be doing most of the grunt work anyway. He shot a pleading glance at Peter, who could only offer a sheepish shrug.

Being the voice of reason would fall on Remus again, he supposed. It was getting rather tiring, being the only sensible person for miles. James and Sirius had had all of their pureblood manners training, yet didn’t have a scrap of sense between them.

“What do you suppose we do once we’re airborne?” Remus asked, pulling at his collar and wishing his scars would go away so he could just roll his sleeves up. “Please don’t tell me your plan is just to fly around until we get caught by Filch or McGonnagall, so you can use your ridiculous loophole logic.”

“Five points to Gryffindor, that is exactly the plan!”

“No way,” Remus said, wagging his finger at Sirius. “I am absolutely not getting involved in this prank, if you can even call it a prank, and I will not be associated with it at all.”

“Oh, say it like you mean it,” Sirius smirked. “Of course you’re going to help.”

“I hate you,” Remus scowled, because of course he was.

The plan (if one could even call the shambles of an idea a plan) was for Remus to use the Teleportation charm to send their beds out into the corridor outside the Fat Lady portrait. He would then sneak out of the common room to meet the other three Marauders. From there, they would take flight.

Remus found himself alone in the dormitory, wondering where his life had gone wrong. He had been destined for great things, he was sure of it, and now he was about to teleport some four poster beds. What had the world come to?

He sent Sirius’ bed first out of spite, hoping something would go wrong and it would be missing forever. The bed disappeared from the dormitory, and when there was no outcry, he sent James’. Peter’s bed was next, and finally, it was time for Remus to send his own bed.

Did he have to? He could just get in bed, pretend he was unaware of the entire scheme. No one could tie him to it, not by anything other than association. Besides, the others could do Levitation charms themselves, what did they need him for?

“I need new friends,” Remus huffed before he cast the Teleportation charm on his bed.

The dormitory was surprisingly spacious when filled with nothing but a pile of Remus’ mess. Hiding his cashbox beneath a jumper and a Bowie record, Remus left the dorm to join his friends in the hallway.

Flying was surprisingly fun. The beds felt like safer vessels than the horrifying brooms they had learnt on in first year. Remus was eternally grateful that they didn’t have flying lessons timetabled anymore; he had almost fallen out of the sky more times than he’d like to count. Sirius and James were always showing off too, and Remus didn’t like being beaten at anything.

Once the beds were airborne, Sirius shot off down the corridor and lost all of his pillows in the process. James was hot on his heels, but Peter and Remus hung back. They floated lazily through the castle while James and Sirius raced one another.

“This was a terrible idea, wasn’t it?” Peter said, clinging to his duvet.

“When do any of us have good ideas,” Remus sighed, neither a question nor a complaint.

There was something strangely thrilling about being part of the Marauders. They were just twelve year old boys, but together they felt as though they were much more than that. Nothing they did together was sensible or meaningful, yet Remus had a feeling that their years together were going to be the most important years of his life.

They could just be children together, carefree and stupid without wondering what life would be like once they were done. Remus didn’t feel like a wolf with the Marauders; he felt like he was part of the flock.

In the end, it was McGonnagall that caught them. As predicted, she didn’t want to hear a word of Sirius’ flawed logic, though Remus could see the amusement in her eyes. That night, Gryffindor lost two hundred points and the Marauders gained two weeks of detention.

Chapter Text

Saturday 23rd September 1972

In theory, Sirius Black wanted to be on the Quidditch team and in theory, training with his best friend (who also happened to be rather proficient at Quidditch) was a good idea. It soon came to light that neither of those things were very true at all.

James’ idea of Quidditch training started far too early for Sirius’ liking. He was peacefully curled up in bed, blankets pulled up to his chin like a mouse in a child’s storybook when all of a sudden, his bed curtains were ripped apart to reveal a grinning James Potter.

“Rise and shine!”

“What time is it?” Sirius groaned, pushing himself up against his headboard.

“It’s already half four–”

“In the morning?!”

James just nodded like that was a perfectly normal time to wake up. Looking out of the dormitory window, Sirius saw the fiery orange colours of the sunrise. James had woken him up before dawn, and he didn’t seem to see any issue with that at all.

No matter how well James and Sirius knew one another, there would always be some things they could never understand. James’ adoration for the early hours of the morning was one of those things. Sirius typically tried to wake up when the sun had actually risen, which apparently wasn’t good enough for James.

“What kind of maniac are you?” Sirius grumbled as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“You say maniac, I say–”

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t say anything.”

There was no point in going back to bed now, as Sirius could never sleep once he had been awoken. James would’ve just tried to get him up again anyway, the persistent fool.

Sirius stood, stretching upwards and grimacing as his bones cracked. He had always hated the sound and despised James’ habit of constantly cracking his knuckles. He rubbed his eyes, trying to come to life.

The dormitory was still rather dark, and Sirius envied the sleeping shape of Peter. Remus always kept his bed curtains shut, and for once Sirius couldn’t hear him rolling about restlessly. He was silent, as though he wasn’t even there. Sirius didn’t dare open the curtains to check.

He had asked James to help him train in one of his letters over the summer, when Quidditch tryouts had seemed ages away. James had been playing Quidditch since he could walk, and Sirius knew that he was his best chance to get on the team.

Being on the Quidditch team meant even more time together. While he wished to deny it, they really were as codependent as Remus said they were. A simple summer without James had felt like a lifetime, and Sirius was clingier than ever now they were back at school.

Only he didn’t like James this much. Sirius prized his beauty sleep and loved a good lie in, while James favoured an early start. Ever since he had learnt that sacrilegious Muggle expression, James hadn’t stopped chattering about early birds and worms. Sirius didn’t really understand it.

“We’re not even allowed out of Gryffindor Tower before six,” he said, his eyes now adjusted enough to the light to see James’ wide grin.

“I know, that’s when we’re going for a run,” James said, before promptly dropping to the floor.

Oh Merlin. He was doing press ups. James had officially crossed the line between hyper and deranged, Sirius thought as he watched the fool he called his best friend daring to exercise at such a heinous hour of the morning.

And he wanted to go on a run as well. Sirius had expected Quidditch training to consist of some actual flying, but James hadn’t even mentioned their brooms. He just kept doing press ups, allegedly improving his ‘Quaffle throwing’ arms.

James wanted to be a Chaser, despite his fascination with Snitches. Whenever Sirius looked over at his parchment for some cheating among friends, James’ notes were always littered with doodles of the tiny golden ball, but he didn’t think his eye sight was good enough for Seeking. Sirius thought James’ attention span was more of a problem.

Sirius was going to be a Beater. James had been surprised, but it seemed like an obvious choice in his head. Sirius had a lot of rage inside, and what better way to get that rage out than hitting Bludgers at Slytherins? He hoped Narcissa would be on the team this year so he could hurl one at her.

Begrudgingly, Sirius dropped down next to James and commenced his press ups. He didn’t know how James did them so effortlessly; Sirius was wheezing after the first dozen. James was already into the hundreds.

“Why do we need to go on a run?” Sirius croaked. “Surely a fly would be more beneficial.”

“Running is good for stamina,” James said plainly, switching to one armed press ups because now he was really showing off. “And I’ve seen you fly. You don’t need much practice at that, but your stamina…”

“Rude.”

Sirius would’ve hit him, if he had any energy left in his arms.

James dragged Sirius into the common room so that they wouldn’t wake Peter or Remus. Mostly Remus. The common room was, of course, empty because who in their right mind would be up exercising when it wasn’t even five in the morning?

Sirius Black, apparently. James’ exercise routine consisted of press ups and sit ups and too many ups for Sirius to remember which was which. He would just copy whatever exercise James was doing, and then stop doing it if James looked away.

He was thoroughly exhausted by the time he heard the clocks strike six. James however was not dampened in spirit at all. He had, in fact, started jogging as though he couldn’t wait another second before starting to run.

“Please, Jamie,” Sirius whined as he sprawled in a heap on the floor. “Just give me five minutes to catch my breath. I’m only a boy.”

“Can’t you feel the good energy?” James asked, picking his knees up as he jogged on the spot. “Exercise is good for your mind.”

“Is it good for killing people too? I think my heart is giving out.”

“Say it like you mean it, Black. Up and at ‘em!”

Sirius dragged himself to his feet and followed James out of the common room at a lazy pace. James sprinted ahead while somehow managing to look like he was just lightly jogging. As tired as he was, Sirius’ competitive spirit just wouldn’t have that.

He sped past James as they stepped out into the chilly morning air, running across the courtyard with his best friend hot on his heels. It stopped feeling like a training run, and instead became a chase. When Sirius found himself tackled, face down in the mud of the Quidditch pitch, he didn’t mind one bit. He had won anyway.

James stood to his feet, extending a hand. After the obligatory pull back so Sirius fell onto the floor, he helped him up. Sweat sat on both of their brows and there was something satisfying about it. James wasn’t as perfect as he wanted to be.

“Ready to fly?”

“James, are you fucking kidding me?”

“Fine,” James sighed, throwing an arm around Sirius’ shoulders. “We’ll have breakfast first.”

“What a waste of a perfectly good Saturday,” Sirius huffed as they walked slowly towards the castle. “Remus probably won’t be out of bed for hours.”

“Remus isn’t trying to be on the Quidditch team. I don’t think he’s ever done a sport in his life.”

Sirius laughed. Remus still hadn’t caught on to the Quidditch craze, and it was unlikely that he ever would. He had read the volume of Quidditch through the Ages that Sirius had gifted him, but even now he understood the game, he still didn’t like it.

Remus was always equating things to their Muggle equivalents, and apparently Quidditch was like some sport that involved lots of tackling. Sirius didn’t like the sound of that much contact, but James had begged Remus to teach him, only for Remus to say that he hated that sport too.

They chatted about Remus as they approached the castle, their jovial words echoing throughout the early morning quiet. The entire time, Sirius could tell James was gearing up to ask him something. He knew exactly what it was.

“So, how’s your brother?” James said once they were situated at the Gryffindor table.

The Great Hall was mostly empty, a scattering of students on each table. Yet another reminder of the ridiculous hour of the morning. Sirius silently helped himself to some bacon, wondering how he was supposed to answer that question.

He had seen Regulus, of course he had. They were still brothers, no matter what house they were in. Sirius knew that Regulus had made two friends called Evan and Barty, and that he was doing well in his lessons so far. He was happy, at least.

It was hard not to resent him, especially when Walburga had sent a congratulatory version of a Howler proclaiming how proud they were to the entire Great Hall. That was how the Black family was. They kept their failures quiet and made sure everyone heard of their successes. Sirius was a failure. Regulus was a success.

The worst part was that Sirius knew it could’ve been him. He could’ve been placed into Slytherin, making his parents proud. His Evan and Barty would be Snape and Mulciber, and he’d despise James Potter the way that he knew Regulus did.

Sirius wasn’t jealous, nor did he care what his parents thought. He didn’t love them, hadn’t for years, so why would he crave their approval? But why should Regulus have it?

“He’s alright,” Sirius settled for, staring down at his plate. “His mates are a little weird, but he seems happy.”

“So you talk to him?” James asked. He was staring at Sirius with that stupid look that meant he wanted to talk about feelings. That was just too bad. Sirius would never spill his guts without the comfort of bed curtains and a silencing charm.

“Of course I talk to him,” Sirius huffed as he avoided all eye contact. “He’s my brother.”

James nodded, clearly sensing the shift in his mood. For a moment, Sirius almost felt bad. Then Regulus walked in with his two friends and all his feelings washed away.

All of his feelings except the quiet one that hated this. Hated the fact that Regulus didn’t need him anymore. Hated the idea of him going to someone else for advice or support or protection. Hated Regulus’ new friends because Regulus never needed friends when he had a brother.

For a moment, Sirius craved the summer again. He wanted to take another punch for Regulus, another Cruciatus curse, just so they could be themselves again. Just them.

Chapter Text

Sunday 1st October 1972

Quidditch tryouts had been a walk in the park – another Muggle expression James had learnt from listening in on people’s conversations. Solanio Johnson, a fifth year and the new Gryffindor Quidditch captain, had put them through a few drills that James could’ve done with his eyes closed.

While Johnson was no Bodhi Rune, James rather liked him. He was friendly enough, and had been the team’s Keeper for three years now. James would’ve liked to comment on the goal Johnson had let Hufflepuff get in during the Quidditch Cup final last year, but he thought he’d at least wait until he was on the team first.

He had no doubt that he would make the team. Quidditch was James’ thing, the only thing that he had ever really been sure about. He was going to be a Quidditch player when he grew up for as long as he could, before retiring to work with his dad. That had always been the plan, and he was nothing if not consistent.

Thanks to James’ training, Sirius had done rather well too. He had breezed through the drills, throwing James a grateful yet cocky smile each time one of his Bludgers landed right on target. He was going to make a fine Beater.

Sirius’ competition was a few third years, and Marlene. James knew Marlene took Quidditch seriously, maybe even as serious as James did. She wanted to be a Beater for the Kenmare Kestrels when she grew up, and she had been training for almost as long as James had.

That was what made it so surprising when she didn’t make the team.

Johnson had promised to make his decision by the end of September, so when he walked into the common room with a sheet of parchment, James could barely sit still. He watched as the parchment was stuck to the wall, and watched as Johnson stepped away.

James ran towards the parchment, accidentally tripping over a first year as he haphazardly pushed his round-framed glasses onto his face. The moment the list came into focus he was scanning for his name, and there it was! James Potter, Chaser.

He kept reading, eyes wandering down to the Beaters. There was Sirius’ name along with another he didn’t recognise, probably one of the third years. No Marlene McKinnon. She wasn’t even a Chaser, just cut from the team entirely.

“What the fuck,” James whispered as he took a step back, both out of an electric happiness and mild confusion. He wanted to celebrate making the team, something he had wanted for as long as he could remember, and with his best friend nonetheless.

The look on Marlene’s face when he turned around put all thoughts of celebration out of his head. James could be happy later, could store it up in his chest to let out when it was just him and the Marauders. He could hold it in how he’d held in every good memory of the summer when talking to Sirius.

James was a good friend, or at least he hoped he was. He often found himself unable to think of anything except how he made other people feel, thinking back on every interaction and expression as though he might stumble across the one that unlocked the truth. He wondered if anyone thought that much about him.

Marlene stormed out of the common room and up the stairs, leaving James to follow her like a lost dog. He took the steps two at a time, lightly grabbing her elbow before she could make it into her dormitory.

“Boys can’t go in the girls dorms, Marls,” James said quietly as she spun around to face him.

“I don’t want you in there anyway,” Marlene snapped, tugging her arm free from his loose grip. “Go hang out with your new best friend Black! Go talk about all the fun you’re going to have on the Quidditch team without me, and see if I care! I won’t, I can tell you I won’t care!”

“Do you want me to quit?” James found himself asking, hating himself for knowing he would if she asked.

“No I don’t want you to quit, you idiot!”

“Then tell me what I’m supposed to do!”

They stood there in silence for a long time. James had never yelled at Marlene, not seriously by any means. He had never begged someone to tell him what he had to do to make them happy, to be a good person. James wished for an answer just as much as he wished he could take it all back.

Marlene sank to the floor, sitting with her back against the wall and her legs pulled up to her chest. James slid down the wall next to her in silence, wanting desperately to say something and fearing that he wouldn’t say the right thing. There was a heavy weight on his chest that had not been there before. Or maybe it was inside his chest, burrowing between his ribs to sit on his heart.

Wherever the feeling was, it fled when Marlene kicked him lightly. It was just the light tap of her black patent school shoes against James’, yet it seemed to signify something more. James returned it.

“I miss you,” Marlene said through gritted teeth like she didn’t really want to say it at all.

“I’m right next to you.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

“Then what does it feel like?”

James could do this. He had grown up in a home where feelings were always discussed, never bottled up. He could listen to Marlene’s thoughts and know exactly how to comfort her. Just as long as she didn’t ask him the same question back.

Leaning her head against James’ shoulder, Marlene let out a long exhale. James felt himself relax with every breath she took as though the air was filling his own lungs. He barely noticed that he was holding his own breath.

“It feels like I’m losing you,” Marlene said quietly. “We barely saw each other over the summer, and when we did, you only wanted to talk about Sirius bloody Black. Now you’re both on the team and you’ll spend even more time together, without me. You spend more time with Peter than you do with me, and I’ve known you for just as long. He… He’s your best friend, isn’t he? Black?”

“Yeah, he is,” James breathed. “But you are too. And Pete. Lupin too, I suppose, if I can get him to admit he even likes any of us.”

“You can’t have more than one best friend.”

“You can,” James said. “Because I do.”

It seemed so simple to James. His feelings towards Marlene and Peter and Sirius and even Remus were all different, yet he knew each of them was his best friend. To limit himself to only one of them seemed irrational.

James had never had just one best friend. Since childhood, his best friends had always been Peter and Marlene. Always both of them, and never one more than the other. Adding a few more didn’t seem complicated at all.

“I suppose that’s true,” Marlene said. “Because Peter’s my best friend too.”

“What about Lily and Mary?”

“They’re different.” Marlene paused for a long time, seemingly unable to put her thoughts into words. James knew the feeling. “It’s not that I don’t love them, I do, but admitting they’re my best friends too means things are changing. I don’t want things to change.”

“Change is good,” James said, removing his glasses to rub his eyes. “To run away from change is to–”

“To turn your back on love because love is ever-growing, I know. You really need to stop quoting your mam.”

James laughed, because it was true. He rarely went a day without saying something his mum had told him. She just had so many wise things to say, and James couldn’t help it if her words were always applicable to every scenario.

“I miss her,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “I sent her a letter yesterday and she hasn’t answered.”

“She’s probably giving that poor owl of yours a break,” Marlene said, standing to her feet. “Now go celebrate with your boyfriend.”

“You’ll be alright?”

“For once, James, don’t worry about that.”

James nodded, giving Marlene a brief hug. He did go down to the common room to celebrate with Sirius, but he worried about it anyway. He didn’t think he would ever stop worrying about Marlene.

Chapter Text

Tuesday 31st October 1972

Any detentions that the Marauders received would pass by quickly, and Peter had found that he rather liked detention. They had been tasked with cleaning the cauldrons, and had been separated to prevent any further mischief. Peter found the quiet and the repetitive action of scrubbing quite soothing, in all honesty. He would’ve liked being a house elf, he thought.

You couldn’t go wrong with cleaning cauldrons. Once it had been explained to them a single time, Peter knew exactly what to do and could do so ten thousand times over. He wished that lessons were as easy as detention.

As much as they adored her, Sirius and James were intent on getting McGonnagall back. Their plan was simple: a variation of their whoopee cushion charm cast on her chair with an accompanying foul scent triggered by some dungbombs.

The execution had been anything but simple. After Bodhi Rune’s graduation, James was in need of a new idol and it had come in the form of new Head Boy Frank Longbottom. He had been the prefect that had shown them to Gryffindor Tower on their very first day, something only Peter remembered.

Frank was genuine and kind, with a proficiency for Herbology. James worshipped him, which unfortunately made him reluctant to pull off any more pranks, in case he disappointed Frank. That meant that it had taken nearly two months for them to put the prank into effect.

All of the older years attended Halloween parties, especially since they had been given Wednesday off from their usual timetable. This year, the party was in Gryffindor Tower, which meant no one would notice the Marauders sneaking out or back in. Frank would surely be too preoccupied.

Remus had claimed to be busy, for a reason he wouldn’t disclose. He was whispering frantically to Lily and the two of them had disappeared after that. Peter wondered if they really were dating, as Sirius and James always joked. Twelve seemed too young for boyfriends and girlfriends in Peter’s opinion.

The remaining three Marauders crept through the partygoers and down the corridors until they reached McGonnagall’s classroom. There was no one to be seen, but apparently they needed a lookout anyway. And apparently, the lookout had to be Peter.

“Right,” Sirius said as he approached the door. “What do you say if someone asks where me and James are?”

“I don’t know and I haven’t seen you,” Peter said weakly. He didn’t like to lie, and that meant he wasn’t very good at it. He really wasn’t cut out for being the lookout.

“Say it like you mean it, Pete,” James encouraged while Sirius rolled his eyes dramatically.

“I don’t know and I haven’t seen you!” Peter yelled, a little too loud and a little too much, but wasn’t he always?

Seemingly appeased, Sirius and James nodded before disappearing into McGonnagall’s room. There was a strange silence that fell upon the corridor, the distant music from Gryffindor Tower the only sound. Peter began to pace, but his footsteps echoed too much, so he stood still again.

He wondered if the rest of his life would be like this, if he would always be standing on the outside of James and Sirius’ great plans. A younger Peter had never doubted that he was James Potter’s best friend, but Peter knew he had lost that title a while ago. James and Sirius were best friends now, and Marlene had the girls, and Remus had Lily and Peter had himself.

“Oi, Pete!”

Sirius stuck his head out of McGonnagall’s classroom. He had a wide smile on his face as he beckoned Peter closer. He found his feet moving as he approached the door before being overwhelmed by a horrifying stench.

He clasped his hand over his nose and mouth, gagging. Sirius and James came barrelling out of the classroom with coughs and splutters. The door was slammed behind them to box in whatever that terrible odour was, though it rolled out from the cracks anyway.

“We set the dungbombs off too early,” James gagged, making terrible retching sounds that clawed at Peter’s eardrums.

“We?!” Sirius banged his fist against his chest, looking scandalised. “It was all you! Next time, me and Pettigrew are going to set them up, while you wait outside. Honestly Peter, James is absolutely useless. We should kick him out of the Marauders altogether.”

As Sirius threw an arm around Peter’s shoulders and continued to complain about James, Peter found himself wondering why he had ever felt left out. It was him that bridged the gap between Sirius and James’ chaos and Remus’ reluctance. It was him that could beat every other Marauder at wizard’s chess. It was him that came up with their name altogether.

There were no best friends or duos in the Marauders. There were just the four of them, equals and comrades in their quest for mischief.

The sound of a purring cat made them fall silent. Mrs Norris came slinking down the hallway, which meant Filch wasn’t far behind. While Peter wouldn’t mind another cauldron-cleaning detention, he knew Filch’s punishments were renownedly worse.

Without a word, the three of them scattered. Sirius sprinted down the hall towards one of his favourite hidden passageways. James braved reentering McGonnagall’s classroom. Peter chose to duck into a broom cupboard, which was clearly the wrong decision because there was someone else in there. Two people, to be exact.

Shakily, and knowing he would regret it, Peter cast a Lumos charm. The space lit up with the white glow that reflected off of a head of platinum blonde hair. Oh Merlin, Peter thought, he had walked in on Narcissa Black and her equally terrifying boyfriend.

Narcissa turned to face him with swollen red lips and a panicked look. She had been snogging alright, but when she stepped aside, it wasn’t Malfoy that Peter saw. It was a girl. Peter had definitely seen her before, though he couldn’t place her name.

She was short and a bit chubby, with soft brown hair tied up in a messy bun. She wore a loose Gryffindor jumper that looked way too comfy, and her cheeks went bright red the second she noticed him. Her lips were equally pink.

The three of them stared at each other in mild surprise before Narcissa procured her wand. Grabbing Peter’s shoulder, she glared down at him menacingly as she pushed the tip of her wand against his throat, causing him to gasp rather embarrassingly.

“What do you think you’re doing, filthy–”

“Cissa,” the other girl said quietly. “Be nice to him, he’s only a kid.”

Narcissa dropped her wand with a look of reluctance that didn’t ease Peter one bit. She turned to look imploringly at the other girl, melting when a hand was placed on the side of her neck.

Peter had never seen Narcissa Black look anything other than murderous. She was always prim and composed, casting withering glances to anyone who dared cross her path. But with this girl, she was different. Almost happy looking, though Peter wasn’t sure that her sharp features possessed the ability to show complete joy.

“Alice, we have to Obliviate him, we have to–”

“No, no, it’s okay,” said the girl, Alice. “Breathe, Cissa.”

He did know her. Her name was Alice Fortescue and she was a Gryffindor prefect, as well as being friends with James’ idol Frank. Peter had seen her around the common room, and she was often in the Herbology greenhouse when he went searching for insects to draw.

She was kind, from what Peter had observed, which made him wonder what she was doing with Narcissa Black. Narcissa was ice cold and anything but kind, while Alice projected a warmth that seemed to radiate from within. In Peter’s mind, neither of them belonged within ten miles of each other.

Alice turned to look at Peter, her round eyes kind. Narcissa was seemingly subdued, her arms around Alice’s waist and her face hidden in the curve of the other girl’s neck. Peter was astounded by the control Alice seemed to possess over such a heinous individual.

“Your name’s Peter, isn’t it?” Alice asked, her fingers weaving through Narcissa’s hair. “Paul Pettigrew’s younger brother?”

“Y-Yeah.” Peter’s voice was strangely hoarse. “I was only hiding in here because Filch was going to catch me out of bed, I didn’t mean to–”

“It’s alright,” Alice said. “But, Peter, you have to understand that it would be rather bad if anyone knew me and Narcissa were out of bed after hours too, especially together. Gryffindor vs Slytherin and all that. You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

Peter shook his head. “If I told someone, I’d have to admit that I was out of bed too. I don’t want another detention.”

Narcissa let out an angry huff, but seemed to soften again from Alice’s gentle shushing. They weren’t just friends, Peter knew that much. Best friends, perhaps, secret best friends.

He couldn’t really understand what was so bad about people knowing they spent time together. The division between Gryffindor and Slytherin surely wasn’t so great that being friends with students from your rival house was so forbidden. Maybe it was for prefects.

“You can’t tell Sirius,” Narcissa said, lifting her head. Peter was surprised at how soft her eyes were. “Not anyone, but especially not him.”

“I won’t,” Peter said, because he truly didn’t know what more they wanted him to say. Did they need an unbreakable vow in order for his words to be credible? While Peter didn’t like to lie, it was unlikely that this topic would ever come up. It was simply a lie of omission.

Gingerly, he left the broom cupboard. Peter reconvened with James and Sirius further down the corridor, and he didn’t say a word about what he had seen. They used one of Sirius’ passageways to return to the Gryffindor common room, and he didn’t say a word about what he had seen. Peter tucked himself into bed and he didn’t say a word about what he had seen.

There would be a time much further in the future when Peter wondered what he could’ve changed if he had said something. But he didn’t say a word about what he had seen, not then and not ever.

Chapter Text

Thursday 16th November 1972

The wolf was angry. It was locked inside this room again, staring at the four grey walls and wishing this full moon would be the one where it could break out. It threw itself at the wall, only to fall in a heap.

It was not strong enough. Again the wolf pounced on the wall, over and over. It could break through, it could get to the outside and be with its pack. Where was its pack? The wolf wondered if it had been lost by its pack, or if it had never had a pack to begin with.

A lone wolf, it was, but not by its own choice. It was the humans who locked him up when he should roam free. These walls had been erected by humans solely to keep him inside. Wolves belong outside, not caged like some domesticated dog.

Hitting the wall again, the wolf whined at a sickening crunch. Was it wall or bone, cage or wolf? It pawed at the wall, long claws making a dent in the wood but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

If the wolf had a pack, it would be able to break out. Its pack would set it free and they could run on the outside. The wolf longed for grass beneath its paws instead of wood that left splinters, for fresh air instead of its own recycled breath.

There was a crack, somewhere on the outside. A twig being snapped beneath the paws of a rabbit or the hooves of a deer or the talons of a bird. The wolf could eat them all in one bite if it could just break free.

But it was too late. The wolf slumped to the floor, howling as its bones cracked and broke. It was dying, and it had never seen the outside. Desperate and angry and lonely and scared, the wolf threw itself against the wall until it could barely move.

Remus awoke in a heap on the floor. There was a stinging sensation in his arm, which was strange because his entire body felt numb. He was hurt, he was aware of that much, but he almost felt like he wasn’t there at all.

Sliding along the rough wooden floor, he managed to grab his clothes from beneath the bed. He pulled his underwear on, which was a wrong move because a sharp jet of pain shot through his entire body. He tossed his shirt against the wall out of frustration, but that only worsened the ache.

He just sat there, half naked, until he felt himself start to cry. Remus didn’t cry often, tried to avoid it where possible, but this was more than crying. This was anger and shame and hurt, all pouring out of his eyes in burning tracks of tears. He couldn’t move to dress himself. He couldn’t get up onto the bed. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t do anything except sit there and sob and wait for Madam Pomfrey to arrive.

His entire body shook with the force of his cries. It was like there was something dark and parasitic inside of him that his body was trying to force out. Remus often felt that way, yet he had learned years ago that crying wouldn’t make the wolf go away.

The sound of his sobs blocked out all other noises, and Remus didn’t hear Madam Pomfrey coming down the tunnels. His nose was running too much for him to even catch her scent. He didn’t notice she was there until she was crouched down beside him.

Remus took one look at the sorrowful expression on her face and began to cry even harder than he had before. He was hyperventilating, his body pained and limp as Madam Pomfrey guided it towards her. His head found a place in her shoulder and Remus wondered if he could hide there forever.

“Oh, Remus,” Madam Pomfrey sighed, sounding as though she was going to cry herself.

“H-Hurts, Mama,” Remus whimpered. “Hurts ba-ad.”

He couldn’t catch his breath, trembling. Something had to be broken, his arm or his spine or his mind because everything hurt. Burying his face deeper into Madam Pomfrey’s shoulder, he bunched up the fabric of her dress into a fist. He would not let go of her, not ever.

“Make it s-stop,” he choked out. “Please, Mama, please…”

“Okay, my boy,” Madam Pomfrey whispered, stroking his hair. “It’s all okay.”

Remus loved when she did that, loved the feeling of his sweat dampened hair being pulled away from his burning skin. He loved her. She wouldn’t leave him, would she?

“We have to get you to the hospital wing,” she continued. “Then I can get that broken arm fixed up in no time.”

“‘S broken?”

“I’m afraid so. Now, you’ll have to walk–”

He let out a quiet whine. He couldn’t walk now, with his legs feeling boneless and his stomach churning. When had his stomach started to churn? Remus pulled away from Madam Pomfrey just in time to vomit onto the floor.

After he was sure he didn’t need to throw up anything else, Remus sank limply to the floor. He pushed his head into Madam Pomfrey’s lap, quivering. It was rather cold all of a sudden, or maybe it had always been cold. Remus was feeling a little delirious.

“Shh, it’s alright,” Madam Pomfrey whispered, pushing Remus’ hair away from his forehead. She pressed the back of her hand to his warm skin. “You’ve got a bit of a fever, poor love. I think it’s best if we keep you in the hospital wing all day.”

Remus just nodded. He was too tired to fight anymore, and a day in the hospital wing didn’t sound too bad. He was much too exhausted to worry about missing his lessons or coming up with an excuse as to why he had disappeared on a random Thursday.

Slowly, Madam Pomfrey helped him stand to his feet. Remus was still smaller than her, though he didn’t think he would be for much longer. Leaning against her, he felt safe tucked under her arm, despite his limp and his broken bones and his fever.

They made it back to the hospital wing before dawn, and Remus soon found himself tucked up in a bed. Some foul tasting potion had healed his broken arm instantly, though his fever seemed persistent. Madam Pomfrey flitted about the hospital wing in search of a cure.

What Remus really wanted was a meal. He was fairly sure he had managed to expel everything he had eaten in the past few days, and the result was a loud growl from his stomach. He understood that he should’ve felt nauseous after everything that happened, but the only thought on his mind was when he could get something to eat.

“Um, Madam Pomfrey?”

“You can call me Poppy, my boy, if you so wish,” she said, coming to stand by his bedside.

Her hand pushed back his sweaty hair again, and Remus felt his eyes fall shut. Maybe he wasn’t hungry after all. Maybe he just needed to go to sleep again, as long as his mother stayed right there–

No. She was not his mother. Cringing inwardly, Remus recalled how he had referred to her as such when she had come to find him, not even just once. He had never let himself slip up before.

Remus knew, in some capacity, that growing up without a mother had affected him. He knew that there would always be a part of him that craved maternal affection. But Remus had bigger problems than that, and he would not let himself give in to the temptation to be small.

He was not small. He was a wolf, a dangerous beast. He was a known wizard killer, impossible to domesticate. He was classified XXXXX. He was anything but small and no amount of love would ever change that.

Besides, Madam Pomfrey didn’t love him. She was obligated to care for him, as she was obligated to care for every other student at Hogwarts. To her, Remus was no more special than anyone else. If he was different, it was because of what he was, not who he was. Remus Lupin was a creature, not a mother’s son.

“Poppy,” he said, forcing his eyes open. “Could I get something to eat, please?”

“Of course, my boy,” she smiled, patting his cheek. “I’ll get one of the house elves to bring you up some breakfast. Now I know you don’t have any allergies, but is there anything you don’t like?”

“I eat everything,” Remus said, accompanied by a grumbling from his stomach that could be heard through the thin bedsheets. He offered a sheepish smile, feeling his cheeks start to burn from embarrassment rather than his persistent fever, but Poppy just smiled at him.

She smiled when he got a few more minutes of sleep. She smiled when he finished an entire full English breakfast and shyly asked the house elf if he could have some more toast. She smiled when he received his toast and polished that off too.

Remus wanted to be angry. How dare she watch him and smile fondly at him like she cared? But he couldn’t be angry, not even a little bit, because his mind was too preoccupied with wondering if she really did care about him.

After brushing his teeth and finally getting rid of the taste of vomit, Remus settled down for some more sleep. Poppy had given him some sort of potion that was doing wonders for his fever, but it made him incredibly sleepy. He pulled the starchy white blankets up to his chin.

“Going to sleep?” Poppy asked, pushing his hair back from his forehead to test his temperature one more time.

“Mhm.”

“What would you like me to tell your friends if they come looking for you?”

Remus hadn’t thought of that. He had half-hoped that nobody would notice he was missing until tomorrow, when he would ask to copy their notes on what he missed and he would have a proper excuse prepared. But Sirius Black was an observant bastard, Peter Pettigrew always knew when something had divulged from his usual routine, and James Potter was too kind for his own good.

“Tell them…” Remus swallowed, his throat feeling rather dry. “Tell them about the fever. That I was sick last night so I came here.”

“Alright,” Poppy said, bending to kiss the top of his head gently. Remus’ eyes immediately fell shut, and he yawned widely. He really was tired. “Goodnight, my boy.”

“Night, Mama.”

Remus was too tired to correct himself, and it felt strangely right, as though it didn’t need correcting at all. He fell into a dreamless sleep with a small smile on his lips and a kiss in his hair.

Chapter Text

Saturday 16th December 1972

“I hate Quidditch. It’s the worst thing in the world, and I despise it.”

“No you don’t, Sirius. You’re just–”

“I hate Quidditch.”

It wasn’t the first Quidditch match that made Sirius draw this conclusion. No it was this, the last match before the Christmas holidays that made Sirius realised Quidditch was an awful sport. The most awful sport in the entire galaxy.

He stood next to James in the changing rooms, clutching his bat and contemplating whether it would be more efficient to just beat himself over the head with it. He was likely to get a head injury if he kept playing Quidditch anyways, so he might as well get it over with. It would save him from having to hear Emmeline Vance’s voice at least.

Emmeline Vance was a Ravenclaw in their year, and someone (likely Dumbledore) had thought it would be a brilliant idea to have her commentate on Quidditch matches. Sirius remembered a time when seniority had mattered in these sorts of things, when you didn’t just go around letting second years commentate, that time being his first year at Hogwarts. The girl knew nothing about Quidditch and took advantage of having her voice blasted out to the entire school by doing favours.

Sirius had only just found out about her scheme, and he was far more irritated by it than anyone else. Remus had simply said something blase about money making the world go around before casting a smug look in Lily Evans’ direction.

People could pay Emmeline anywhere between a Knut and four Sickles, and she would say whatever they wanted to everyone who had come to watch the match. Sirius had been confused about why she said random things during their matches, but he had been a little too focused on not getting a concussion to pay much attention.

“I saw Reg’s weird little friend slipping her three Sickles,” Sirius groaned, sitting down on the bench. “Three! I mean, it’s clearly something awful.”

Regulus only seemed to have two friends. One was Evan Rosier, a frightfully pale boy with platinum blonde hair to rival Narcissa’s. He was a pureblood, from a family that the Blacks were rather friendly with. Mother and Father would surely approve of that friendship. Sirius was fairly certain that Rosier had an older sister who was in second year, though he couldn’t for the life of him remember her name.

The second of Regulus’ friends was Barty Crouch Jr. He was a small and wiry-looking boy, but Sirius got the feeling that he wasn’t to be underestimated. His skin crawled wherever he looked at Crouch, who was always licking his lips or looking around like he was searching for his next target. Of what, Sirius wasn’t sure.

He dreaded thinking of what secrets might be shared to the entire school. Regulus had surely told an embarrassing story or two about Sirius to his new friends, and Crouch just looked devious. Sirius didn’t doubt that the little creep wouldn’t think twice before telling everyone that Sirius had once eaten six cauldron cakes in one sitting because Bellatrix had told him too, and had subsequently thrown up all over his Uncle Alphard. At least it wasn’t Uncle Cygnus.

“Stand up, Number Two!”

“I have a fucking name, Johnson,” Sirius huffed, pushing himself to his feet before turning to James. “Come on, Number Five. What a twat.”

“I heard that, Black! Drop and give me twenty!”

“Now he uses my name?”

Wiping his sweaty hands on his crimson Quidditch robes, Sirius slowly sank to the floor. What was the obsession with press ups? James was looking down at him like he wanted to trade places, and Sirius wished he would.

By the time they made it onto the pitch, Sirius was fully freaking out. He had run through almost all possible scenarios in his mind, and yet he still kept finding more. How many terrible childhood memories could one thirteen year old have?

Perhaps Crouch was announcing that he was auctioning off the picture of an eight year old Sirius dressed in one of Narcissa’s dresses. Sirius often wondered how his cousins had gotten away with everything they did to him when they were children.

Kicking off the ground, Sirius flew into position. They were only playing against Hufflepuff, so thankfully the turnout wasn’t as great as when they played against Slytherin. However, it was still a large amount of people, none of whom Sirius wanted knowing that he had fainted when slapped with a dishcloth by his family’s house elf Kreacher. He knew that Regulus had told the elf to do it, seeing as the two of them were practically best pals.

“Welcome to this lovely match of Hufflepuff vs Gryffindor!” Emmeline’s voice ricocheted off of the benches. “I would just like to start by saying that Edgar Bones is accepting applications for a life partner! You must be good at Charms, share his hatred of centaurs, and be willing to spoon. If you’re interested, make sure you let him know by Friday ladies!”

Sirius groaned, and this time he really did hit himself with his own bat. He couldn’t endure an entire match of this drivel, especially if some of it concerned him. Stupid Barty Crouch Jr.

Even as the match commenced, Sirius couldn’t focus. He did manage to hit two Chasers with one Bludger, but his eyes kept darting back to the commentator’s booth. Emmeline shared many valuable insights throughout the game, rarely about the actual Quidditch that was going on, and none of it seemed like it had come from Crouch.

“Tiana Sampson would like to share the opening of her self-published romance novella, Forbidden Love in the Dungeons! ‘Her cauldron bubbled, but not as much as her heart…”

“Zacchary Robbins would like the entire student body to know that he is freshly single, ouch sorry Mia, and ready to mingle!”

“In allegedly unrelated news, Mia Clifford has written and distributed a comprehensive ranking of the top ten most attractive boys at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She says she stands by every choice and dares anyone to disagree. You’ll notice Mr Robbins is not on this list…”

Gryffindor were winning, 70-10, but that didn’t really matter, did it? No, all that mattered was what mindless gossip Emmeline Vance had to share. Sirius wished someone would just take her microphone away from her.

Emmeline seemingly had a lot to say, yet none of it was from Crouch. Sirius almost wondered if the little prick had done this on purpose to mess with his mind. Regulus needed some better friends.

No. He would not think about Regulus, not now when he had a game to focus on. Sirius dodged an incoming Bludger, sending it towards the Slytherin Keeper when it came swinging back around. He missed, but it had distracted the Keeper enough for James to get a goal in.

80-20.

James was a natural. Sirius often found himself in awe of how effortlessly good he was, not that James ever stopped mentioning it. Quidditch was the only thing that the eternally humble James Potter was cocky about, and Sirius couldn’t even be angry at him. He was bloody brilliant.

Sirius wished he had spent his early years playing Quidditch, instead of learning how to behave at dinner parties and how to do ballet. He had been a rather good ballet dancer and– oh Merlin, Crouch better not know about that.

Sirius cast a sidelong glance to the commentator’s booth, where Emmeline seemed to be getting a talking-to from Professor Flitwick. Finally. When she picked up the microphone, Sirius had the smallest amount of faith that she would actually say something useful.

“That’s another goal from Seabright, bringing Gryffindor’s total up to ninety points,” Emmeline began. “Hufflepuff are still only on twenty points. Looks like Gryffindor Keeper Solanio Johnson is doing a good job of guarding those hoops! And Potter has the Quaffle…”

“Thank Merlin,” Sirius breathed, blocking a Bludger that was headed for James.

Emmeline was back on track, and no one would ever find out any of Sirius’ many secrets. He resolved to have a word with Andromeda if he ever saw her again, because his cousins had been absolute bullies to him and Regulus when they were children. Why had he ever let Bellatrix use him as a footstool during Christmas dinner?

There was a riotous cheer from the crowd as the Gryffindor Seeker caught the Snitch, ending the match. Sirius breathed a sigh of relief as he slowly descended towards the ground. The game was over. Emmeline’s commentating was over.

Only it wasn’t, was it? Sirius’ feet had barely touched the grass of the pitch before Emmeline had started up again, and his blood ran cold when he heard that wretched name. Barty Crouch Jr.

“Barty Crouch would like to announce that–” Emmeline laughed, right into the microphone. This wasn’t going to be good. “–he is accepting donations for the Barty Crouch Jr Society for the Appreciation of Basilisks. For just three Knuts a week, you too can support a young boy’s dream of owning a twenty foot long snake! That’s all for me, have a lovely Christmas!”

That was it? Sirius had been fretting for days over an advertisement for the Barty Crouch Jr Society for the Appreciation of Basilisks, and that was potentially the most embarrassing secret he would ever have.

Sirius could sense James was going to tease him before he opened his mouth. James hopped off his broom easily, jogging over as though they hadn’t just played an entire match of Quidditch. He wasn’t even out of breath!

“Happy now?” James snorted, elbowing Sirius in the ribs. “Merlin, I can't believe you practically sweat through your robes over Crouch wanting a pet snake!”

“I obviously didn’t know that’s what she was going to say,” Sirius huffed. He gave James a light swat with his bat, trying not to look too petulant. At least he wasn’t red in the face; Sirius Black never blushed.

“Just wait until Remus hears about this!”

“You cannot tell Remus! James!”

James was already jogging away, pretending he couldn’t hear him shouting after him. Sirius wondered if he could get away with drowning himself in the changing room showers before he ever had to hear Remus making fun of him.

Merciless mockery was one of the only ways Remus engaged with the Marauders, aside from being the brains behind their every operation. Sirius knew that he was nicer to his gal pals in the Swot Squad, but he liked how mean Remus was. James was such a good person that it almost made Sirius feel bad.

When Sirius exited the changing rooms, James had already found Peter and Remus. The three of them were waiting for him, barely holding in their amusement. They all burst out laughing the moment they saw Sirius and his dejected expression.

Sirius muttered under his breath, “Stupid Barty fucking Crouch Jr.”

Chapter Text

Friday 22nd December 1972

The first four months of their second year had passed by so quickly that James almost thought he’d missed it. It seemed only seconds ago that he had arrived at Hogwarts, and now he was packing his things to leave again. Perhaps his new year’s resolution should be to be more present.

Sirius was packing too, having been permitted to return home this year, on account of alleged good behaviour over the summer. James doubted Sirius had been good at all, but he was happy that he would get to spend the holidays with his brother.

Regulus and Sirius rarely spoke, as far as James knew, and Sirius spoke of his brother even less. Still, Sirius seemed happy and when it came down to it, that was really all that mattered.

James was going to spend his Christmas holidays just as he always did: with Peter and Marlene. This year would be the year he won the snowman building contest, he was sure of it. Girl power could not always prevail.

Remus had already packed, or moved some clothes from the floor into his bag at least, and was now lying face down on his bed with what Sirius called an air of melancholia. James thought he was just being a little dramatic.

“You don’t understand!”

“Englighten us, Remus,” Sirius scoffed as he perfectly folded his trousers. “Please, tell us what troubles your great mind.”

A book was launched across the room, narrowly missing Sirius’ face. Luckily, he had been stooping down to place his perfectly folded trousers into his trunk at that moment, so the volume of Hogwarts: A History had just hit the wall.

“Tosser,” Remus huffed, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “My problem is that I live in the tiniest village in the Welsh countryside, and I’m going to be terribly bored and sit alone for two weeks with only my books to keep me company.”

“You like books, though,” offered Peter, who was attempting to close his suitcase by sitting on it. “And you could always make some friends.”

“Make some friends?” Remus said as though Peter had suggested he simply throw himself from the Astronomy Tower. “I don’t like anyone I went to primary school with! Who do I make friends with, a sheep? I’m not even good at making friends, I don’t even like you lot.”

“Say it like you mean it, Remus,” Sirius smirked. “You don’t like us, you love us.”

This time, the book landed on target, smacking Sirius right in the face. He fell to the floor with a dramatic cry, proclaiming his woe. Sirius would be going home with a black eye. James hoped he would not return with one.

He felt an immense shame every time he let Sirius go back to that house. The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black (James had laughed for hours when he’d found out that was its full and official title) had a reputation for being cruel and unusual. All of the families in the Sacred Twenty Eight did.

Those pureblood families didn’t marry their cousins for fun. They married within their families because they believed they were so superior that no one else could taint their bloodlines.

The Potters had been like that once upon a time. James’ grandfather had broken that tradition, and then his father after him. It was strange to think that merely two generations ago, every Potter had been as pale as the Blacks were, and just as closely related. James wondered if he would break the tradition too, though blood status wasn’t exactly high on his list of traits for his future wife.

If James could, he would take Sirius home with him, and Remus too. They would help him win the snowman building competition, they would sledge down the hill together, they would sit on the steps with Peter and Marlene to make their wishes for the new year. They would all come true.

But James couldn’t do that, not yet anyway. When they were of age, all of the Marauders would live together with Marlene and the girls if she wanted them there. They would have a big house for the seven of them, and Sirius would never be unsafe again.

A knock at the door jolted James out of his imaginary world just as he began to choose paint colours for the room he would share with Sirius. He looked up as none other than Frank Longbottom entered the room.

“Alright lads?”

Frank was tall, blocking the entire doorway as he leaned casually against the frame. He had brown hair that was slightly grown out, reminding James of the Prewett twins. They had graduated last year with Bodhi Rune, one of the grave injustices of James’ lifetime so far.

He had expected Frank to be a stuffy Head Boy, like Ronan McKinnon who thankfully didn’t go to Hogwarts anymore. But Frank laughed at their pranks, and grew forbidden plants in the greenhouse, and never once told them off for making too much noise in the dorms. He was terribly kind, and James wanted to be just like him.

“Minnie sent me up here,” Frank said as he entered the room, because of course he was cool enough to call Professor McGonnagall by a nickname. “She wants me to check that you haven’t got anything planned for today, considering last year’s snowball fiasco. Personally, I found it sort of funny.”

“It was my idea,” James beamed.

“Was not,” Sirius said, attempting to disguise his snide comment with a cough.

“Doesn’t matter,” Frank chuckled, folding his arms over his chest. “Whatever you have planned, save it for the big ‘73. Merlin knows I’ll need cheering up during NEWTS. Be good, alright?”

“We will!” James smiled so hard his face hurt as Frank left.

Sirius rolled his eyes at him, but James didn’t care. Their pranks cheered up Frank Longbottom. James was sure he had peaked, life would never get better than this.

Once finished packing, they dragged their suitcases and a huffing Remus down to Hogsmeade station. Remus had made a brief stop at the hospital wing, probably something for that fever he’d had last month, and they were slightly late.

James spotted the bright hair of Lily Evans, and decided to head for that compartment. Surely Mary and Marlene would be with her, and then they could all sit together like they had on the way there.

Only Lily wasn’t with the girls. She was with Snape’s little gang. Once only Bruce Mulciber, Snape’s freaky friend group had expanded to include Andreas Avery and Nikolas Wilkes. All of them looked rather unsettling, and Lily didn’t look like she wanted to be there at all.

“What do you want, Potter?” Snape sneered, clearly more confident in front of his goons.

“No one’s talking to you, Snivellus,” James said. “We’re just here to pick up Evans. Marls and Mary are looking for her.”

It was a lie, but James couldn’t just leave her there. While he knew that Lily and Snape were friends, the same couldn’t be said for the company he kept. James knew they didn’t approve of Muggleborns, and were likely only putting up with Lily for Snape’s sake.

Before Lily could even stand up, Snape was answering for her. “Lily doesn’t want to sit with those girls. She is fine where she is.”

“Well, she can come and find us if she likes,” Remus said, grabbing James by the shoulders and steering him away from their compartment. “Not worth it, mate. Snivellus isn’t worth it at all.”

They found Marlene and Mary further down the train, and they had in fact been looking for Lily. The six of them settled into a compartment, and just like that, James was going home again.

Marlene was lounging next to him, her legs curled up as she let Mary braid her long hair. She looked relaxed, and every time she caught James’ eye, she would smile. There was something very Christmas-y about that.

“Excited to see your mam, James?” Marlene asked. “Now you can quote her to her face.”

“Mum knows how much I quote her,” he said, leaning his head against the window. “It’s not my fault your mum never says anything quotable.”

“Quotable is not a word.”

“It is actually,” Sirius interjected. “The word ‘quotable’ has been in use since the early 1800s if I’m not mistaken.”

James opened his mouth to say something, yet found no words to describe the way Sirius just said those sorts of things. They had received similar pureblood educations, yet Sirius came out with some of the most intellectual sentences James had ever heard like the were just common knowledge.

He had been using Remus’ strange quill, allegedly called a pen, to write ‘SIRIUS BLACK WAS HERE’ on every available surface in the compartment. This distracted him enough to not notice the stony glare he was getting from Marlene.

Sirius was oblivious to Marlene’s hatred of him. In her mind, he had stolen her best friend and her spot on the Quidditch team. James was fairly sure that Marlene didn’t occupy any space at all in Sirius’ mind.

Peter was staring out of the window at a blue butterfly on the glass, examining it intently as though he planned to memorise every detail. Perhaps he was going to draw it in his sketchbook later. James knew that Peter thought his insect diagrams and drawings were some big secret, but none of James’ friends could ever do anything without him knowing. He was sure of that.

Lily found them eventually, not saying a word about what had happened with Snape. She busied herself with creating some sort of list with Remus, the two of them hunched over a piece of parchment.

James practically flew off the train once it arrived in London. He said his goodbyes to Sirius first, knowing that being seen together by Sirius’ parents would only make his Christmas worse. Remus slowly trailed off towards his dad, still muttering under his breath.

As soon as he spotted his parents, James ran down the platform towards them. His mum was wearing Gryffindor red robes, a shimmery translucent scarf over her jet black hair. His dad looked up and down the platform before his eyes landed on James.

He was almost as tall as his mum now, and almost knocked her over when he tackled her into a hug. Beaming, he felt his dad behind him, hugging them both. Warmth spread through his chest in a slow trickle, outward from his heart.

“Slow down, beta,” Mum laughed as they all pulled back from the embrace. “Don’t you want to say goodbye to your friends first?”

“Already said goodbye to Sirius and Remus,” James said, smoothing his hair even though he knew it would never lie flat. “We’ll see Peter and Marlene all Christmas, anyway. I wanted to see you!”

“Better get home then,” Dad said, taking James’ suitcase.

The three Potters walked down the platform, James and his mother hand in hand. He doubted that he would ever find it embarrassing to hold Mum’s hand, not when it made both of them feel so at home. He squeezed Mum’s hand, and she squeezed back.

Chapter Text

December 1972

He had managed to suffer through a quiet Christmas. It was just him and his dad, and while Remus knew that Lyall was trying, their silent Christmas dinner couldn’t compare to the comfort and chaos of Hogwarts. Fuck, Remus liked magic school.

After reading two books during Boxing Day, Remus forced himself to venture out into the village. He could recognise some faces of people who had been in his year at primary school, but their names escaped him. The only person he spoke to was the corner shop man, who had inquired as to why one boy needed so many bars of chocolate.

Remus was on the chocolate stock, while Lily was spending her Christmas money on sweets. They had drawn up a list of everything they needed and what quantities, based on the popularity of certain items from the previous year. Lupins-Evans Enterprises did not do anything by halves.

Once he had carried home his bags of chocolate, Remus decided to explore the fields. His village of Talyglyn was entirely surrounded by meadows and pastures owned by a variety of farmers. Remus walked out into one of the fields behind his house, sat on a fence, and waited for his friends to rock up.

Strangely enough, it worked.

Remus was sitting on the fence, flicking through a tattered volume of Crime and Punishment that was boring him to death, when a boy approached him. He was dark haired, wearing farming gear and a scowl.

“What’re you doing on my property?”

“Your property?” Remus asked. The boy didn’t look much older than he was, no more than fourteen and certainly not old enough to own a farm.

“The man I work for’s property, then,” the boy huffed, leaning his arm against the fence. “Do I know you?”

“I’m Remus. Remus Lupin.”

“Ahh, Lyall’s boy.”

Remus nodded, stuffing his book into the pocket of his coat. He vaguely recognised the boy, but they definitely hadn’t been in the same class at primary school. Maybe he had seen him in the village? Wherever it was, Remus didn’t know this boy’s name, and he didn’t like that he knew his father.

Everyone in Talyglyn seemed to know one another, and Remus found that thoroughly unsettling. He would never return here once he was of age. He would live somewhere where he could be anonymous, a bustling city like London.

“Gareth Bedoe.”

“What?” Remus blinked, becoming aware that he had completely zoned out.

“That’s my name,” Gareth laughed. “You know, I think I do know you. How old are you?”

“Twelve,” Remus said suspiciously. What else did this boy want, his home address? “I’ll be thirteen in March.”

“Must’ve been in the year below then.”

Just as Remus was preparing his excuse to get out of there, another farmhand materialised from nowhere and was suddenly standing right next to him. This farmhand looked to be the same age as Gareth, with sandy blond hair that looked like it needed a good wash.

Both of them were wearing wellies that were covered in mud, their clothes stained with Merlin knows what. Remus didn’t ask, silently grateful that he would never have to work on a farm a day in his life.

“Who’s this, Gaz?” The new boy asked, shooting Remus an easy smile.

“Lyall Lupin’s boy, the one who goes to private school in the North,” Gaz answered, and that name suited him much better, his perpetual scowl lifting just a bit. “Remus, this is Carwyn Hughes. Wyn, Remus Lupin.”

Remus settled for a nod, but Carwyn grabbed his hand anyway, shaking it so hard that Remus had to hop down from the fence before he fell off. These two seemed like opposite sides of the same coin. Gaz couldn’t stop frowning, and Carwyn hadn’t once stopped smiling.

He liked Carwyn better. The Hughes family owned the farm that Remus was technically trespassing on, and they were one of the town’s main suppliers of livestock, according to what Remus had overhead.

Remus found himself being led across the field, slipping into an easy conversation with the two boys as if he had known them his entire life. He helped them load hay bales onto the farmer’s tractor, and he didn’t even care that they laughed when he struggled to pick them up. He was laughing too.

The next day, Gaz and Carwyn sought Remus out. When he had stepped out of his house, the two of them had been waiting at the end of his road. They looked a little different out of their work clothes, both wearing fluffy jumpers and coats zipped up to their chins.

“Thought we’d meet a couple mates of ours in the forest,” Carwyn said as they meandered through town.

“The forest?” Remus frowned, pulling his coat tighter around him. “You’re not going to attack me in some sort of ritual, are you?”

That even made Gaz laugh. “Who do you think we are, Re? Besides, Rhys would never let us get away with that. He’s a proper church lad, choir boy and all.”

Rhys must’ve been one of their mates. Remus began to wonder how he had lived in Talyglyn for so long and still didn’t know who anyone was. It wasn’t much of a mystery; his misanthropic nature and general dislike for leaving the house were clearly to blame.

Once they’d wandered through a few residential streets, the quaint houses far apart yet identical, they reached the forest. It was the kind of forest that children were warned to stay out of yet found their way into anyway. The trees were thick and close together, blocking the watery winter sunlight.

It had snowed a few nights ago, and though it had melted almost everywhere, the tops of the trees were still dusted with white. It was nothing compared to when it snowed at Hogwarts, but at least Sirius wasn’t here to dump snow into Remus’ bed.

The thicket of trees eventually gave way to a clearing. A boy stood in the centre of the clearing, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them to generate warmth. Light brown hair stuck out from beneath a blue woollen hat that looked homemade. He wasn’t wearing a coat, just a corduroy jacket that didn’t look as though it could generate much warmth.

He smiled as they approached, waving an ungloved hand. As they got closer, Remus noticed the pink in the boy’s cheeks, no doubt from the cold. He almost wanted to hand over his coat; his lycanthropy meant that he always ran a little hot.

“Rhys!” Gaz called, jogging over to the boy. “Where’s Em?”

“Off wandering,” answered the boy, Rhys. “Apparently the snow inspired him and he had to follow his muse.”

“Our lad and his muse,” Carwyn huffed. “He’ll have a poem scrawled on his arm when he comes back, and I bet he’ll make us all listen to him perform it.”

“Yeah, took my best pen too,” Rhys said.

Remus just stood there awkwardly, wondering if he was going to be introduced to Rhys or if he was expected to introduce himself. When Carwyn settled down on a log, Remus joined him as though he was some sort of lost dog.

There was something about inserting himself into what was clearly a group that had been formed long ago. They already had their dynamics, already knew each others’ stories and secrets. Remus was used to being an outlier, but that didn’t mean it had gotten any easier.

Carwyn seemed to notice, giving Remus an encouraging smile that felt like basking in warm sunlight. It did away with that stupid feeling in Remus’ chest, the one that told him he wasn’t wanted there. He felt wanted, in that moment, if only a little bit.

“This is Remus,” Carwyn said, throwing an arm around his shoulders and pulling him closer. “Lyall Lupin’s boy. Re’s our new mate.”

“Is he now?” Rhys tilted his head before sitting next to Remus on the log, leaving him sandwiched. “Rhys Geddings, nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, nice to meet you,” Remus mumbled as he shook Rhys’ hand. It was freezing, and before he knew what he was doing, Remus was fishing his gloves out of his pocket and offering them over to him.

Rhys looked mildly bemused before he took the gloves and slipped them on. They were only cheap ones that Remus had received from some distant relative a few Christmases ago. They were fraying already, but they were also the same exact blue as Rhys’ hat.

“Aren’t you a sweet one, cariad?” Rhys smiled, nudging Remus’ shoulder with his own. “Ah, here comes Bob Dylan.”

Remus looked up to see a boy, quite literally, emerging from the trees. A small frame dropped down from the branches of an oak, landing bare foot on the mossy ground. Remus cringed at how cold his feet must be.

The boy had messy black hair that was in dire need of a hair cut, and it reminded Remus of James. He had glasses too, but not the round framed ones that James had. They were sort of square, and far too big for his delicate features. Briefly, Remus thought that the boy looked like a faerie, but he quickly banished that thought from his head.

It was the boy’s outfit that stood out the most. He wasn’t wearing a winter coat like Gaz or Carwyn, or even a hat like Rhys. He was dressed in loose trousers and a flowing white tunic that billowed in the breeze like he was winged. As Carwyn had predicted, words were scrawled in ink that was already starting to blur all over the boy’s forearms.

“Who are you?” was the first thing that the boy said.

“Who are you?” Remus repeated, feeling his cheeks flush.

“Inquisitive, I like it,” the boy said, sitting down on the grass cross-legged, as though meditating. “But I’m offended that I was only gone for a few minutes before you all found a replacement for me.”

“Re’s not a replacement,” Carwyn chuckled, and his arm was around Remus’ shoulders again, like that was just a thing they did. “He’s an addition. No one could replace you, Emrys. Besides, he’s only twelve, he’s like a baby.”

“Are you not literally thirteen?” Remus said dryly before realising that probably wasn’t a nice thing to say to his new friends that he had only known for one day, especially in the middle of a forest when he’s already put the idea of a ritual sacrifice into their heads.

For a moment, no one said anything. Then they all burst out laughing, but not at Remus. No, they were laughing with him, and Remus was laughing too.

Gaz returned from where he had apparently been collecting firewood, his broad arms laden with sticks and twigs. They all built a bonfire together, though it was really more of a campfire. While Remus wished he could’ve just used a charm to light it, there was something satisfying about doing it the Muggle way and doing it with his friends.

They all smoked, Remus found out, which seemed terribly grown up. Emrys procured a pack of cigarettes from his flowing trousers, and passed one out to each boy. They used the bonfire to light them, and they all laughed when Remus choked on the first inhale, but it didn’t matter because Remus was laughing too.

He spent the rest of the Christmas holidays with his new friends, smoking in their clearing and rambling through the woods. He told them what he could about Hogwarts without naming it or letting them in on the whole magic thing, and he learnt about their lives too.

Carwyn was going to inherit his father’s farm one day and had dreams of planting an orchard upon it. Gaz had worked for Carwyn’s father since he was ten and he was going to help Carwyn run it when they got older. Remus thought that sounded rather nice, working together on a farm that was all their own. He promised to buy all of his apples from them.

Rhys was a tenor in the church choir, and had the voice of an angel. They had been sitting around one of their campfires when Carwyn and Gaz had convinced him to sing. It had been a simple hymn, but Remus had almost thrown himself down at the altar after a few words.

Emrys was both the most interesting and most alarming person that Remus had ever met. His clothes were always loose and peasant-like, and he never wore shoes, not even when they walked through the village. He wanted to be a poet, and couldn’t go more than a few minutes without quoting Bob Dylan or Aristotle, whom he held in the same regard, as prophets of some greater enlightenment.

When it came time for Remus to leave, they all came to see him off. It was a strange sight, the four boys lounging on his dad’s car in their winter coats and Emrys without his shoes on as always. Remus had hugged them all, never once feeling weird about it.

“Here you go, cariad,” Rhys said, slipping a pack of cigarettes into Remus’ pocket as they hugged. “I figured you could easily get matches at your fancy private school, but fags might be hard to come by.”

“Cheers,” Remus said, his eyes feeling strangely wet.

“Don’t go forgetting about us!” Carwyn called down the road as Remus’ dad pulled the car out of the driveway.

“I’ll fucking find you if you do!” Gaz yelled, waving like mad.

They chased the car all the way through the village until the cottages turned into fields. Remus sank down in the passenger seat, his fingers closing around the weight of the cigarettes in his pocket.

His dad huffed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “I gather that those are the boys you’ve been spending your time with.”

Remus nodded, sensing a tone in his dad’s voice. He didn’t like his friends, but why? They were good boys, not like the punks that hung around the village’s only music shop. Gaz and Carwyn worked hard on the farm, Emrys was harmless, and Rhys was a bloody church choir boy! What wasn’t there to like?

“I barely saw you, Remus.”

Oh. Oh.

Chapter Text

Tuesday 2nd January 1973

That Christmas had been different to every other, yet exactly the same. There had been the same ostentatious family dinners and Sirius had still stepped in front of Regulus whenever their parents began to yell, but there was a tension between the brothers that hadn’t been there before.

Regulus had been glad to return to Hogwarts, to the world of Evan and Barty and no one else because no one else mattered. He had remained glad, until he had seen just how happy Sirius was to be going back to James Potter.

James Potter was Regulus’ number one enemy, overtaking Mother and Father because at least Sirius hated them too. Sirius loved James, never stopped talking about his wonderful new best friend. Regulus despised him.

The worst part about it was how nice everyone seemed to think James was. Regulus saw through all the smiles and the hugs and the charming words. James Potter was an evil brother stealer, and Regulus would be the one to expose him for what he was–

“Are you done brooding?”

Evan stuck his face through Regulus’ bed curtains, his blond head practically luminous against the emerald green decor. Sitting up, Regulus smoothed his monogrammed silk pyjamas and gave Evan his most dramatic sigh.

“I suppose,” he said. “It is my birthday, afterall.”

“We know!” came Barty’s voice from somewhere in the dormitory. “You won’t believe what we’ve got planned…”

That could not be good. Regulus had only known Barty for a few months but he already knew that when Barty had something planned, it was never good. He still hadn’t received any donations towards his purchase of a Basilisk, and had paid Emmeline to express his rage on the matter at next week’s Quidditch match.

There were only three Slytherin boys in their year, so naturally they had become friends. It had mainly been against Regulus’ will, as he was content to just coast about by himself and maybe talk to Cissa once in a while. But it seemed it was Evan and Barty or the strange group of Slytherins in Sirius’ year, so Regulus had made his choice.

Evan was sarcastic, and funny too, but only when he wanted to be. He gave Regulus his space, but would randomly invade it as though keeping him on his toes. He was quite clever, no doubt because he had received a similar pureblood education to Regulus.

The Rosier family were friends of the Blacks, and Regulus had seen Evan before at dinners and galas –how he hated galas. It had only been from a distance, and he had usually been with Sirius, while Evan was with his sister.

The Crouch family, however, were not as entwined with pureblood practices. While Barty’s father, Bartemius Crouch Senior, was a pureblood and held a high position in the Ministry, Barty’s mother was only a halfblood. They was not pure enough for the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, and so Regulus and Barty had never crossed paths before.

That had been a blessing. Barty had many ideas that he always vocalised, and a grand total of none of them were good ones. He was hyper, always bouncing off the walls no matter the hour of day. He had already challenged several people to duels, including Professor Flitwick after he had pronounced Regulus’ name wrong. Regulus appreciated his loyalty, but wished he would show it in other ways.

Reluctant as ever, Regulus pulled back his bed curtains and stood up. He was met with the sight of Evan holding a banner that read ‘HAPPY REGULUS DAY’, no doubt painted in Slytherin green by Bartemius Crouch Jr himself. Barty was holding several firecrackers in his arms. At a second glance, Regulus realised they were lit.

“What the–”

“Oh shit!” Barty yelled as the firecrackers shot out of his arms and through the dormitory window, shattering the glass.

Regulus ran to the window, looking out at the morning sky. It was too bright and blue for the fireworks to have any real effect, but there was something calming about watching the faint green spirals fizzle out.

When he turned back around, Barty had snatched his banner from Evan and was now jumping up and down excitedly. He had a wide grin on his face that only looked a little deranged. Clearly, he wanted Regulus to express his approval of the display.

“Do you like it?” Barty asked, his relentless hopping never ceasing. “Is it the best thing you’ve ever seen in your entire life?”

“It’s… great,” Regulus said, allowing his lips to turn up just a little. “Thank you, Barty.”

“And Evan!” came Evan’s voice from somewhere beneath his bed. “I held the banner!”

“What a valuable contribution,” Regulus sighed, rubbing his temples in a manner that echoed a fatigued businessman. “I have no doubt that Happy Regulus Day was a Crouch creation.”

“Ooh, Crouch creation.” Barty picked up a paintbrush –had they just made the banner?– and made note of the phrase on the skin of his forearm. “I’m going to use that.”

The rest of Regulus’ birthday was quite calm. It seemed that Barty had limited his zany plans to the confines of the morning, saving Regulus from further public embarrassment, if only for one day. The Barty Crouch Jr Society for the Appreciation of Basilisks would bring much unwanted attention to their trio in the coming days.

He had a brief but polite interaction with Cissa, who was the most bearable of all of his cousins. Andromeda was Sirius’ favourite, so couldn’t be his, and Bellatrix was just downright vile. Regulus didn’t like to think of how many people were technically his cousins beyond those three.

Thankfully, lessons were still yet to commence, as it was only the first day back from the Christmas holidays, so Regulus’ time was his own. Well, his and Evan’s and Barty’s. They spent most of the day in their dormitory or the Slytherin common room, as well as a few trips to the kitchens.

If he could’ve, Regulus would have sent Barty, but the house elves would only talk to Regulus. It made him miss his family house elf Kreacher, who had become his best friend in Sirius’ absence. Socially speaking, that was rather pathetic, Regulus knew, but house elves were flesh and blood and brains just as wizards were.

The three of them sat in a circle in their dormitory, bowls of bone-roasting brew in front of them. It was mostly hot cocoa, but Barty had thrown a few things from his trunk into it that gave it the ability to warm you from the inside out. It was a blessing in the cold January air that swept through the castle, and Regulus didn’t dare ask what Barty had put in it.

Barty’s next excellent idea on how to celebrate ‘Regulus Day’ as he insisted on calling it, was to go around the circle and say their favourite things Regulus has done throughout the year. The very thought of being perceived so much made Regulus sick, at which point he declared it was time for gifts.

Evan hadn’t wrapped his, which was efficient and exactly to Regulus’ liking. His gift was a small box made from polished mahogany. It was about the size of Regulus’ palm, and it even had his initials engraved on the base. R.A.B

“I got it made over the holidays,” Evan said. “I just thought you’d like to have a place to hide things.”

“To hide what?”

“Things,” Evan repeated with the slow sort of smirk he always had. “Trinkets, Black family heirlooms, love poems from secret admirers.”

Regulus rolled his eyes as he slipped the box into the pocket of his monogrammed pyjamas. He had dressed only to go down to the kitchens, and saw no point in wearing anything else if he was just staying in the dormitory. Besides, his green silk pyjamas were expensive and comfortable.

Barty’s gift was wrapped, albeit haphazardly. It was also box-shaped, though it was far larger than Evan’s box. As he tore away the green paper, Regulus was faced with the sight of a glass tank.

A glass tank that contained a snake. Barty had gotten him a snake.

Inside the tank, it slithered over rocks, its scales a deep green that was almost black. Regulus stared down at the animal through the glass, speechless for once.

“Do you like it?” Barty grinned, rocking back and forth. “He’s been living under Evan’s bed for a few days, because Evan didn’t trust me to keep him.”

“Him?” Regulus asked, watching as the snake stared at him through the glass.

“I think it’s a boy, but I’m not going to check,” Barty shrugged. “Do snakes even have–”

“Shut up,” Evan drawled before taking another long sip of his bone-roasting brew. “What are you going to name it, Black?”

Regulus peered down at the snake, staring it in its yellow eyes. In his mind, the snake was a Black now, so needed to be named after a star. Almost all of the blacks were named after a star, or at least some celestial body, all except Narcissa. She was a flower in name, though she was far from one in nature.

He ran through the constellations in his head. Most of them were taken, or simply too stiff sounding to ever be used as a name. Briefly, he considered naming the snake after his brother, so he could always have Sirius with him. What a ridiculous notion.

“Zosma,” he settled on. “It’s a star in the same constellation as mine.”

“You have your own star?” Barty gawped, pausing from where he appeared to be attempting to do a handstand.

“He’s named after one, you dolt,” Evan said. “All of the Blacks are, it’s sort of their thing.”

Barty, who had returned to his handstand attempts, had fallen over once more, hitting his head against his trunk. Though a little dazed, he didn’t seem to mind. Clearly, it was time for bed.

But Regulus wasn’t going to bed. He had somewhere to be, so as the others dressed for bed, he put on his winter coat. Adding a scarf, he concluded that no one would be able to tell he was wearing pyjamas underneath.

“Where are you going?” Barty asked.

“Nowhere.”

“Tell your brother to donate to the Barty Crouch Jr Soc–”

“I will not.”

Regulus wandered through the halls of the castle for a long time. He still didn’t know his way around, and kept the orientation map in his pocket at all times, though he never let himself be seen using it. Looking at a map when you had attended a school for four months was simply embarrassing.

By the time Regulus made it up to the Astronomy Tower, it seemed as though Sirius had been waiting there for a long time. His cloak was spread out beneath him like a makeshift blanket, and he seemed halfway to sleep.

“Hello,” Regulus said, his throat strangely dry. “Barty wants you to donate to his society.”

Sirius looked up, vaguely startled by Regulus’ sudden appearance. When they were children, Regulus could never sneak up on his older brother, but he had learned. Sirius would have to watch his back.

“He wants me to what?”

“Barty wants a Basilisk,” Regulus said, sitting down on Sirius' cloak. “It’s a twenty foot snake that kills its victims through deadly eye contact.”

“Why would he want that?”

Regulus just shrugged. He stared out at the night sky, trying to find his star. In London, there was often too much Muggle-created fog that Regulus couldn’t see a single star in the sky. At Hogwarts, every night was as clear as the day.

Orion’s belt was easy to find, but Regulus didn’t want to look for that. His father had no place at Hogwarts, a world free of curses and scorn. Sirius was the brightest star in the sky, and Regulus stared at it for some time, wondering how his parents had known.

Because Sirius was the brightest. He lit up every room he entered, beloved by all, and Regulus hated him for it. He loved him and he hated him and he really wished he would just say something. Ever the mind reader, Sirius did.

“Happy birthday, Reggie.”

Sirius slid over a small box, wrapped in golden paper. Not Slytherin green, not black, but gold. As gentle as he could, like tearing it would ruin everything, Regulus removed the paper. Inside was a brass charm in the shape of a star.

Regulus’ star. It glistened in its constellation, polished just a little brighter than the others. Regulus felt a small smile coming onto his face before he could quash such a display of emotion.

He thanked Sirius quietly, before slipping the box into the pocket of his winter coat. He even folded the golden paper gently and kept that too. Regulus had a feeling he wouldn’t be letting go of either for some time.

“So,” Sirius began, “how’s life?”

“Life?”

“You know. School and your mates and your… life.”

“It’s fine. How’s yours?”

“My life?”

Regulus nodded. It turned out that Sirius had quite a lot to say about his life. Regulus soaked up every scrap of information he could get, willing his brain to never forget a single bit of it. He also willed his brain to stop wanting to throttle James Potter every time Sirius mentioned him, but he never quite got the hang of that.

Chapter Text

Saturday 17th February 1973

The weekends nearly always resulted in some sort of chaos. Weekdays were filled with lessons to keep them occupied, their time carefully managed and observed. Remus went off to his study group during the weekdays, though Peter doubted much studying was actually going on.

This meant that when the Marauders were presented with two entire days to fill themselves, with no obligation outside of a Sunday morning Quidditch practice for Sirius and James, something nearly always went wrong. Their activities were mostly enjoyable, but rarely ever successful.

It had begun when Remus made yet another reference to some Muggle game that he then had to explain. The game was called hide and seek, and it had enchanted Sirius and James immediately. Peter wasn’t so sold.

Nevertheless, they ended up playing hide and seek. No area of the castle was off limits, and Remus had been insistent on being the seeker. Peter half-expected him to just leave them all hiding, disappearing off into the castle and letting them wonder when he’d come to find them.

It would be easy to find Sirius. He would no doubt choose one of his beloved secret passages to stow away in, despite the fact that they all knew where they were. Remus would find him within minutes.

James would be easy to locate too. He couldn’t stay quiet if his life depended on it, and would be giggling the moment anyone walked by. Peter began to think he should’ve chosen to be the seeker.

He ran through his potential spots in his head. Remus would expect him to go somewhere he knew, counting on Peter’s favourance of the familiar. That meant that the greenhouse was out, and so was their dormitory.

Peter was going to avoid any broom cupboards, just in case he ran into Narcissa Black and Alice Fortescue again. He’d seen them around the castle, Alice especially, yet neither of them had tried to speak to him since. They all seemed content to act as though it had never happened, and Peter was fine with that.

The kitchens were out too, though Peter was sure the house elves would help hide him. He was always the one that the Marauders sent down to retrieve food, so the house elves had become accustomed to him. Peter’s family had never had one, unlike the Potters, but he knew that most people didn’t treat their house elves as well as the Potters did.

Eventually, Peter settled on hiding in the library. There was a group of seventh years there, all hunched over their textbooks or scribbling frantically. None of them said a word as Peter sat down, blending seamlessly into the group.

He stayed silent, and waited. Remus didn’t even look in the library for a few hours, and when he did, he wasn’t alone. He had Sirius by the wrist, dragging him behind him.

“These are the rules,” Remus said as he checked between the shelves. “Once you get caught, you have to help the seeker seek!”

“But I didn’t expect to be the first person caught,” Sirius whined, not helping in the slightest.

“Then you shouldn’t have hid in an obvious place. You’ve shown all of us where that passage is, and you still chose to hide there. It was the first place I looked!”

“Well, it’s not my fault you’re so observant. And now you expect me to sell out my fellow hiders like I’m some sort of double agent?”

“It’s just a game, Sirius. You might be the brightest star, but you are definitely not the brightest person I know.”

“Oi!”

The pair continued to weave between the rows of bookshelves, and Peter kept his head bowed. He hoped that they would be too engrossed in their spat to look properly. Peter doubted that Remus thought any of them had ever even been to the library.

The seventh years around him seemed to have cottoned on to what was happening, and now began shifting slightly to hide Peter even more. None of them looked up from their books, but Peter caught a few suppressed smiles. He supposed anything was entertaining if you were doing your NEWTs.

Once he was sure that Remus and Sirius had left the library, Peter lifted his head from the Advanced Arithmancy textbook he had been bent over. He found himself face to face with several seventh years, all of whom were staring right at him.

“Uhh, thank you,” Peter said, wishing the ground would swallow him up.

“You can stay here if you like,” one of the seventh year girls said. “But I suppose it's more fun if you keep changing your hiding place, right?”

“I don’t know,” Peter shrugged. “I’ve never played before.”

“Purebloods,” sighed the girl, returning to her Transfiguration notes.

“Be nice, Madison,” said another seventh year student. “You can’t be salty towards everyone just because Bodhi–”

“Don’t say a thing about Bodhi! You don’t even know what happened!”

“I think we all know what happened.”

Peter extracted himself from the situation as the hushed whispers turned to a full blown dispute. He snuck out of the library, wary that Remus and Sirius could be around any corner. Had they found James yet? Had Peter won?

He chose his next hiding spot carefully. It was one of Sirius’ passages, so Remus had likely already checked there and was unlikely to return. Peter slipped into the tunnel that led to the Gryffindor common room and waited.

It was rather boring, waiting alone in a tunnel. Luckily, Peter had prepared. He pulled his sketchbook out from the pocket of his robes, leafing through it until he reached his latest sketch. It was a ladybird, one that he had seen the other day. Peter summoned the image of it into his mind and began to draw under the light of his Lumos charm, occasionally nibbling on a muffin he had stashed in his pocket at breakfast.

Every now and then, Peter would hear footsteps or voices passing by. He couldn’t recognise them (he had never been good at that) but he was fairly sure that Remus and Sirius had passed him a few times. He had chosen his hiding spot well.

Minutes passed, though it may have been hours, before the wall slid open. Peter looked up, his sketchbook in his lap and a muffin in his mouth, to see Remus and Sirius looking down at him. He stuffed both items into his pockets as he stood to his feet.

“What the fuck, Peter?” Sirius said, gawping. “Were you here the whole time, when I was here too? I didn’t even see you! I really am bad at this, Remus, I take it all back.”

“I wasn’t here.” Peter dusted off his robes. “I was in the library, and then I came here. It’s more fun if you change your hiding spot.”

“You’re good at this,” Remus said as the three of them left the tunnel. “But not as good as James. It’s been hours and we haven’t found him yet. Do you think he’ll come out for lunch?”

“Mr Competitive isn’t going anywhere unless we find him,” Sirius sighed. “I really wanted to win.”

Remus rolled his eyes at Sirius and sped off down the hallway. They stopped at the Great Hall for some lunch, but James never showed up. Peter wrapped some food up in a napkin, slipping it into his pocket so that he could give it to James when they found him.

If they found him.

It soon became apparent that James was very good at hide and seek. They searched every floor of the castle at least twice, checked every secret passageway, looked in every room, and James was still nowhere to be seen.

After several hours of looking, the three Marauders found themselves standing in a corridor on the second floor. Suits of armour lined the walls, looking down at them scornfully. Peter wondered if they could enlist the help of the portraits, because otherwise they’d never find James.

“Uh, guys?”

The three of them jumped at the sound of James’ voice. Peter looked around, but James wasn’t there. Was he projecting his voice from another location to taunt them? Was he watching them now?

“Can I come out now?” James’ voice said. “I really need a piss.”

“Where the fuck is he?” Sirius whispered, looking about like he expected James’ ghost to appear. “We said no Invisibility Cloak!”

“I’m behind you, genius.”

Peter turned to look up at the suit of armour behind them. Sure enough, James could be seen through the visor. How he had gotten in there, Peter had no clue. He was fairly sure the suits of armour were sentient, and doubted they approved of someone climbing inside them.

James didn’t come out. The metal clanged together as the suit of armour moved about, but James never appeared. He had gotten himself stuck.

Rolling his eyes, Remus ran through various charms to try and transport James out of the suit of armour. Sirius was no help, rolling about on the floor and clutching his stomach with laughter as James heckled him from inside the suit of armour.

“I’m the winner anyway,” James huffed. “When I get out of here, I’m going to knock you out! Remus, let me out so I can strangle Sirius!”

“One problem,” Remus sighed. “I can’t get you out.”

“What?!”

“Oh, this is the best thing I’ve ever seen,” Sirius wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye.

“I’ll go and fetch someone,” Remus said. “Perhaps Professor McGonnagall will know how to get you out. I hope she gives you a detention for getting in there in the first place.”

“This game was your idea,” James called as Remus walked away. “It’s not my fault I’m good at it!”

Peter and Sirius sat with James as they awaited Remus’ return, throwing various insults at him because what was James going to do? He was still stuck inside the suit of armour. Peter admired his dedication to the game, but there really were much simpler options.

In the end, McGonnagall did manage to free James. He received a stern lecture and a detention the following Monday. Sirius didn’t stop laughing until he was tackled to the ground by a furiously blushing James.

Peter was just relieved that they wouldn’t have to play hide and seek again.

Chapter Text

Thursday 15th March 1973

Much to Remus’ chagrin, he was paired with Sirius in Potions once again this year because they had just worked so well together the previous year. Sirius had almost wet himself when Professor Slughorn had said that.

By March, Sirius had upturned their potions three times, set something on fire six times, and sabotaged Remus’ careful efforts in other ways a total of fourteen times. He knew this because after the second arson attempt, Remus had started a tally.

Sirius wasn’t bad at Potions, not at all, but he found it immensely boring. Slughorn’s drawling voice was enough to put anyone to sleep, even if he wasn’t talking about dull things like stirring anticlockwise. To make matters worse, they didn’t even have Potions with Slytherin, so there was no hexing of Snape to be done. Boring.

At present, Sirius was handing ingredients to Remus so that he could do their work. Sirius was no longer trusted to handle their actual potions, due to his fourteen sabotaging attempts, and was content with his role as Remus’ assistant.

“What should I get James for his birthday?” Remus asked as he stirred their cauldron.

“Medication,” Sirius suggested.

“I heard that!”

“Piss off Potter!”

James, who was sitting with Peter at the desk behind them, leaned forward to smack Sirius upside the head with his textbook. Sirius deserved it, he supposed, but he gasped dramatically nonetheless.

Remus just rolled his eyes, holding his hand out for the next ingredient. Sirius had lost track of where they were in the method, so just handed over a vial of some purple liquid. It was clearly the wrong thing from the way Remus looked at him, from the corner of his eye as though it was too much of an inconvenience to fully turn his head.

“If I’m making this all by myself, you could at least hand me the right ingredients,” Remus said, sprinkling some crushed snake fangs into the potion instead.

“I could be making it, but someone banned me from helping.”

“Well, if you hadn’t set our potion on fire–” Remus checked the tally chart. “–six times, then I wouldn’t have had to ban you from helping.”

Sirius huffed, folding his arms. That earned him a small smile along with Remus’ typical eye roll, which was strangely satisfying. It was good to know that Sirius could conjure up any emotion in Remus other than a dry irritation.

“I asked you a question,” Remus said, not looking up from where he was stirring the potion. “What should I get James for his birthday? I want it to be something good.”

“Remus Lupin has a heart? Alert the press, the Daily Prophet will want this on their front page,” Sirius teased, pouting when Remus clipped him on the ear. “I’m trying to help! Just get James some more Muggle chocolate, he loves the stuff. I think he’s more into Muggle things than I am nowadays.”

“That’s just because you haven’t got your hands on the latest Bowie record.”

“I have Hunky Dory,” Sirius frowned.

His cousin Andromeda and her husband sent him records for his birthday and Christmas every year, and James usually did too. Sirius adored Muggle music, and he adored them for helping him obtain it. His parents despised anything made by Muggles, as though they were incapable of talent.

Sirius liked T-Rex and the Beatles, but David Bowie was his favourite. He had all four of his albums, as well as a few posters. They didn’t move, but Bowie’s strange hair and vibrant clothes were enough for Sirius. He thought he’d look rather good with long hair, but his mother insisted on shearing it off every time Sirius went home.

“He put a new one out last summer,” Remus said, frowning down at their potion. “I saw him singing one of the new songs on telly, Starman or something like that. I’m surprised you haven’t got it.”

“What’s it called?” Sirius asked, feeling absolutely betrayed that Andromeda hadn’t informed him.

“It’s got a long name,” Remus said. “Something something of Ziggy Stardust and the something something. Look, my mate’s got the record, I’ll find out what it’s really called in the summer.”

Sirius nodded, mildly surprised that Remus had other friends. He had seemed so averse to the concept of talking to people over Christmas, and he had been very insistent that he didn’t like anyone in his home village at all.

It was hard to picture where Remus lived. Apart from Hogwarts, Sirius had never been anywhere outside of London, let alone out of England. Remus’ Welsh accent was oddly charming and Sirius wondered if everyone talked like that where Remus was from.

He imagined that Remus lived near a library or a bookshop. Maybe, like the Blacks, he had a library in his home, stacked with all of his favourite books. The Lupins would have a front garden, Sirius thought, and Remus’ mother would grow flowers there.

Sirius was about to ask Remus if his mother grew flowers in their front garden, when Remus stifled a yawn against the back of his hand. This drew Slughorn’s attention immediately.

“Yawning already?” Slughorn asked in a jovial tone that Sirius just knew would piss Remus off. “You’re a little too young to be so tired already, Mr Lupin!”

“And you’re a little too old to be teaching, but we’re all here, aren’t we?” Remus muttered under his breath.

Slughorn didn’t hear him, going back to his desk, but Sirius did. He tried to mask his amusement with a cough, but mistimed it. Remus looked over at him and that was all it took to send Sirius slipping off his chair in a fit of giggles.

Why did Remus have to be so funny? It was a crime, and it wouldn’t have been as bad if he’d said it loud enough for everyone else to hear. No, he had murmured it like he always did his best sarcastic jokes, and now everyone was looking at Sirius on the floor like he was deranged.

He didn’t care, nor could he stop laughing enough to get back up. He tried, using the corner of the desk to lift himself up. That only ended with the desk slipping out of his grip, Sirius landing back on the floor, and their cauldron upturning to spill Remus’ carefully crafted potion all over the floor.

Remus said nothing as he added another tally to the ‘Times Sirius has Knocked Over the Potion’ section of the tally chart.

When Sirius finally managed to get back onto his chair, and had stopped arguing with Slughorn over the five points that had been deducted from Gryffindor for disruption, he was rather red in the face from laughter. Not at all from embarrassment, because if everyone knew how funny Remus secretly was, they’d all be red in the face from laughter too.

“You’ve made a right spectacle of yourself,” Remus sighed, waving his wand to clear up the spillage.

“Too old to be teaching,” Sirius wheezed. “You really are too funny, Remus– ugh, what’s your middle name? I know it starts with a J, so… Jezebel?”

“You think my name is Remus Jezebel Lupin?”

Sirius nodded. “You are too funny, Remus Jezebel Lupin.”

“That is not going to become a thing.”

Remus said that often, Sirius had noticed. When he had awoken on his birthday to the sight of his friends standing over him with a cake, Remus had declared that it was not going to become a thing that they did every year. Obviously, this meant that it was going to.

Neither of them attempted to make the potion a second time, and Slughorn never told them to. They were left to their own devices, just sitting at their desk. Sirius used his wand to lift the various ingredients scattered across the desk into the air, and Remus used his wand to put them back down.

“Remus Jehovah Lupin,” Sirius tried, earning himself a groan from Remus.

“Stop trying to guess.” Remus rubbed his temples as though Sirius’ very presence was a headache. “You’re not going to get it if you keep choosing such outlandish names.”

“Sorry for assuming that Wolfy McWolf would have a strange middle name–”

“What?”

Remus had sat up straight, turning to look right at Sirius. His eyes were wide open, not hidden behind a deep frown like they usually were. Sirius was surprised to see that Remus’ eyes weren’t brown, but more of a golden-flecked hazel. He wasn’t sure why this felt like such important information.

“Your name basically means Wolfy McWolf,” Sirius said, clearing his throat. “Remus and Romulus were raised by wolves, and Lupin comes from the Latin lupus, meaning wolf-like.”

“So my name is Raised-by-Wolves Wolf-like?”

“Pretty much.”

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” Remus groaned, hitting his head against the desk. “I mean, I knew it was a weird name, but come on!”

Sirius choked on another laugh, banging his fist against his chest. Only this time, Remus was laughing along with him. This unfortunately drew Slughorn’s attention, and Gryffindor lost ten more points for lack of focus in lessons.

It was worth it. Sirius wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Remus laugh like that, a real laugh instead of his usual sarcastic scoff to cover up anyone noticing that Remus Jebediah Lupin had an emotion. Sirius really wanted to know Remus’ middle name.

He wanted to know a lot of things about Remus. James and Peter were mostly open books, but Remus held his cards close to his chest. Sirius got the feeling that Remus had some big secret, and he wanted nothing more than to uncover it.

As the lesson ended, Sirius slung his bag over his shoulder. He hopped over the remnants of their potion that Remus hadn’t been able to clean up, not wanting to land on the floor for a second time that lesson. When they made it out into the hallway, Remus leaned down (but only a little, because he wasn’t that much taller) and spoke quietly into Sirius’ ear.

“John.”

“What?” Sirius blinked, before dramatically shuddering at the feeling of Remus’ breath on his skin.

“My middle name,” Remus said, straightening. “It’s John.”

“Remus John Lupin?”

Remus nodded. They continued down the corridor in silence for a few more minutes, watching James and Peter engage in a fervent debate about who was going to win the Quidditch world cup next year. If you asked Sirius, it definitely wasn’t England. Then, Sirius nudged his shoulder against Remus’, causing him to look down.

“I prefer Jezebel,” he smirked.

“Twat.”

Chapter Text

Tuesday 3rd April 1973

“I’m getting really tired of Snape,” Sirius huffed, sending daggers in the direction of the Slytherin table. “I’ve already heard them use multiple slurs and I haven’t even finished eating.”

“Sirius, you know more slurs than you do spells,” Remus said dryly. “Eat your dinner.”

The four Marauders were gathered around the Gryffindor table, attempting to finish dinner before Sirius began yet another rant. James didn’t like Slytherin anymore than any other Gryffindor student, but Sirius was over the top with his hatred. James suspected it was mostly to make up for the rest of his family.

Sirius had been odd since Christmas. He was acting out more, begging the others to plan more pranks, to get more detentions, to lose more house points. He had even skipped a Quidditch practice, but after James’ utter horror, he hadn’t done that again.

His behaviour worried James, though he tried not to show it. Every night, after Sirius had gone back to his own bed, James would lie awake and wonder what had happened to Sirius over Christmas. The images his mind conjured up were horrific, though he knew it could be even worse. He thought of asking Regulus, but was far too intimidated to even dare.

The younger Black brother rarely displayed any emotion, besides a general air of boredom. It was as though he thought everyone and everything wasn’t worth a second of his time. James found it hard to connect this version of Regulus Black to the Reggie that Sirius had so often spoken of in their first year. He didn’t mention his brother much now.

“But I don’t use any of the slurs I know,” Sirius said, with an air of incredulity through a mouthful of toast. “The Slytherins do. All the time.”

“You used to say them all the time,” James interjected. “We’ve just got you well trained now.”

James narrowly dodged a chicken drumstick as Sirius tossed it at him, only for it to land in Remus’ Potions book. James was grateful that he wasn’t on the receiving end of the sour glare Remus gave Sirius before eating the drumstick in two quick bites. His appetite really was incredible.

Remus had been studying all year with Mary and Lily, but now his revision had made its way out of the library. It baffled James how it didn’t bore Remus out of his mind to read textbooks in bed or at meal times. He even brought a book to the Quidditch matches, as though Quidditch wasn’t the most entertaining thing in the entire world.

Studying wasn’t something that James did, not really. He would just learn things in lessons and remember them, and he couldn’t understand why anyone would bother doing much else. Perhaps they had forgotten the things they’d learnt, but forgetting was a foreign concept to James.

“Merlin, look at Snivellus,” Sirius sneered, using his fork to crush a pea like he wished it was Snape’s head. “He’s so fucking smug.”

“Says the most arrogant person alive,” Remus snorts, still shovelling mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“Remus, I want you to know that if I wasn’t scared shitless of you, I would fight you right now.” Sirius pointed his fork at Remus as if to accentuate his point. “However, you are terrifying, so I will refrain.”

This seemed to appease Remus, who buttered himself a fourth bread roll before turning back to his reading. James often found the dynamic between Sirius and Remus befuddling. They appeared to always be at each other’s throats, yet bore a respect for the other like no one else.

Four heads turned in sync as a group of Slytherins approached the Gryffindor table. The Marauders stared as Snape talked in hushed tones to Lily, flanked by his ghoulish posse. Avery and Wilkes looked bored, arms crossed over their chest as they sneered down at the Gryffindors. Mulciber, however, had found someone to occupy himself with.

He had one hand braced on the table, leaning over Mary. James couldn’t make out what Mulciber was saying, but from the look on Mary’s face, it couldn’t be good. Marlene, who was extremely confrontational and wouldn’t have hesitated to tackle Mulciber to the ground, was nowhere to be seen, and Lily was occupied by her conversation with Snape. It would have to be James then.

“Oi, Bruce!”

Mulciber looked up, affronted by the use of his first name. James knew this, of course. He knew how much blood supremacists like Mulciber prized their surnames, their proof of blood purity. Mulciber didn’t move an inch, still crowding Mary.

James was vaguely surprised by Mary’s lack of reaction. He had seen her start at least three fights since September, and James didn’t even see Mary that often. He would’ve expected her to have slapped Mulciber by now, but Mary’s eyes were focused on her plate as she prodded her potatoes.

This moment, with Mulciber staring up at him in confusion, was really where James ought to have left it be. He could’ve caught the attention of a teacher, or just politely asked Mulciber to leave. But James felt a strange sense of duty as he watched the situation before him. Mary was a Gryffindor and Remus seemed to like her, so James couldn’t just leave her to deal with Mulciber alone.

“Ever heard of personal space?” James asked, moving to stand behind Mulciber so he was practically breathing down his neck. “Doesn’t feel so nice when someone’s so up close, does it?”

“Piss off, Potter,” Mulciber spat, clearly uncomfortable by the close proximity. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“No, no, I think it does,” James said. “Unless Mary tells me to piss off, then I think I’ll hang around.”

Mary held her hands up as though handing the situation over to James, who gladly received it. He leant even closer to Mulciber, caging him in so that the only way out was to move away from the Gryffindor table entirely. James yawned as though he was extremely relaxed.

He wasn’t. James felt an almost thrill at the thought of pulling out his wand, hexing Mulciber until he never dared to mess with any of James’ friends again. His hands itched for a fight that Mulciber apparently wasn’t going to give him.

“Dunglicker,” Mulciber muttered as he stalked away, back to the Slytherin table.

Sirius was right. The Slytherins did need to stop using slurs, and the Marauders were going to make sure they did. How, James wasn’t exactly sure yet. Remus would know, he usually did.

At present, Remus seemed to be using a variety of eyebrow movements and head tilts to telepathically communicate with Mary from across the table. As hard as he tried, James could not figure out what they meant. He sat down next to Mary.

“Are you alright?” James asked, suddenly overcome with the worry that he may have overstepped. “I didn’t mean to involve myself–”

“It’s fine, Potter,” Mary shrugged. “The only reason I didn’t knee Mulciber in the bollocks is that Lily bet that I couldn’t go the rest of the year without getting a detention. I get five Galleons if I make it to June.”

That made more sense. James’ worry left his body just as quickly as his adrenaline rush had, leaving him with an odd sense of unrest. He had to do something, though he wasn’t sure what.

James sank back down into his seat. His food was rather cold and unappetising now so he just slid the plate over to Remus, who polished it off as though it was gourmet cuisine. It really was unnerving how much the boy could eat.

Across the table, Peter crossed out an entire paragraph of the Astronomy essay he had been working on all week. Sirius was hard at work too, scribbling down what appeared to be a list on a rumpled piece of parchment. He wrote with such fervour that James could only assume that it was prank related. Sirius never put that much effort into schoolwork.

When the parchment was handed over to Remus, James craned his neck to read it. His eyebrows shot up as he looked over the neat bullet point list of slurs that Sirius had written down in alphabetical order, as though he already had them memorised.

“What in the name of Merlin’s ballsack is this?” James said rather loudly, without meaning to.

“The Alphabetised List of Appropriate Terms for the Inferior,” Sirius recited, grinning at the horrified look James could feel spreading across his face. “Oh yes, young Potter. There’s a book of slurs for young purebloods like me to study up on.”

“Is there a particular reason why you decided to write the entire book out?”

“Oh, my dear Jamie,” Sirius said with his usual melodrama. “That isn’t the entire book. It’s just as much as I can remember.”

James didn’t really have much of a response for that. Vaguely aware that he looked as though he had seen a Dementor, James closed his mouth and began to read over the list again. There were slurs that James had heard before, and many more that he had not.

Remus folded the list up and tucked it into the pocket of his cloak. “I’ll explain the plan, seeing as Sirius won’t.”

“Plan?” James perked up at the sound of that. “What plan?”

“The plan we made while you were in your silly little stand off with Mulciber,” Remus said dryly. “I’ve come up with a spell to deter the Slytherins from using… foul language. I just needed all the possible examples so that the spell covers all of our bases.”

“I don’t understand the plan,” Peter said, hand raised as though speaking to a teacher. “Can you explain it again? But with different words?”

Remus began beating himself over the head with his textbook.

***

Wednesday 4th April 1973

The plan had been surprisingly successful. In the dead of night, or more accurately 10:30pm, the Marauders had snuck out under the Cloak. They had followed the Slytherin Prefects into their common room, and Remus made a note of the password on Peter’s arm using one of his Muggle quills.

Once all the Slytherins were in bed and the Marauders had all been taught the incantation, they made quick work of casting the spell on every Slytherin’s tie. Well, almost every Slytherin. They still hadn’t worked out how to get into the girls’ dormitories, and were too afraid to attempt it.

After all of the ties had been returned to their original places, it was as though the Marauders had never been there. James didn’t sleep at all that night, too full of anticipation for the next morning. By the time the others got out of bed, James was already fully dressed and ready for breakfast.

Unfortunately, breakfast was a boring affair. The entirety of Slytherin house seemed to have procured impeccable restraint over night, and despite his careful observations, James didn’t see a single one of them experiencing the effects of Remus’ spell. They would have to take it into their own hands.

As everyone filtered out of the Great Hall, James was delighted to discover that they had Transfiguration with Slytherin first. He rarely checked his timetable, and he rarely ever needed to. He had Remus for those sorts of things.

James and Sirius took their usual seats at the back, both practically buzzing with excitement. As Snape stepped through the door, arms laden with books, Sirius seized the opportunity. He stuck his leg out, causing Snape to stumble and drop all of his books.

Snape scooped his books up before turning towards them with a sneer. James could practically see the grease dripping from the ends of his hair. He thought they complimented the embarrassed flush of his cheeks.

“Watch yourself, Black,” Snape said, looking down his hooked nose at them. “And you too, Potter. Nasty pair of–”

James watched in fascination as the spell began to work, Snape’s tie tightening around his throat before he could get out whatever vulgar word he wanted to use. His red face morphed into an ugly puce colour as he pulled at the tie. It was a miraculous sight.

The tie loosened after a few seconds, for the Marauders were pranksters, not monsters. It had been enough to give Snape a good scare at least. James couldn’t help but laugh as the Slytherin gasped for air.

On the opposite side of the room, Mary and Marlene’s giggles indicated that Mulciber had experienced the spell too. Snape stormed over to Lily, clearly filling her in on what had happened. Lily looked absolutely horrified, turning around to shake her head at James and Sirius.

It was hard to care when the only solution Mulciber could apparently see was attempting to say as many slurs as he possibly could, as though that would beat the charm. It didn’t, and he gave up once the vein in his forehead began to bulge.

The Marauders spent the rest of the day observing the Slytherins between lessons and at mealtimes. James almost felt bad when he saw the brief flashes of panic, hands clutching their throats in shock. But then James remembered that if the Slytherins stopped using such foul words, the charm would be rendered useless. So it was their fault really.

Even if no one else did, James noticed the proud smile on Sirius’ face every time he looked over at his younger brother. Neither Regulus or his oddball friends had had any trouble with their ties, and that gave James hope. Hope that maybe all was not lost between Sirius and Regulus.

The same could not be said for Snape’s gang. They all looked constantly out of breath, their ties tightening and loosening before tightening once more. Not once did any of them think to remove their ties, which James liked to think would’ve been his first thought.

They managed to make it until dinner before the teachers began to notice, which James found just a little bit concerning. The Slytherin ties were all handed in to Professor Flitwick, who looked rather comical wobbling about with a pile of emerald green ties in his stubby arms.

On their way up to the common room, Regulus approached them. His two friends lurked in the shadows, seemingly watching without getting too close. The younger Black made rather frightening eye contact with each Marauder before his eyes landed on Sirius.

“Did you use the book?” Regulus said, and James noticed the small flicker of intrigue behind the mask of boredom.

“I knew it would come in handy someday,” Sirius smirked, before reaching over to ruffle Regulus’ hair. “Why, were you impressed by our excellent pranking skills?”

“No,” Regulus said flatly.

He smoothed his hair down, then promptly turned on his heels and left without so much as a goodbye, his two friends scrambling after him. Oh well, James thought. It was a start.

Chapter Text

Saturday 7th April 1973

Somehow, Professor Flitwick had been able to trace the spell back to the Marauders. He wouldn’t tell them how, not even when Sirius demanded evidence and accused the entire faculty of conspiracy against him. Peter suspected Flitwick had just gone with the most likely culprits, because the Marauders were almost always to blame for any mishaps now that the Prewett twins had graduated.

The tie incident, combined with the resurgence of the Whoopee cushion charm on every single professors’ chair, had landed the four of them in a month-long detention. After dinner ended each day, they all trudged off to Flitwick’s office to be assigned a task for the evening. They had only had three days of it so far, but the others had already begun to go insane. Peter found cleaning cauldrons and polishing trophies rather therapeutic.

Tonight’s task was to sort the newly laid eggs of Professor Sprout’s Chromalia Snails. They had been informed that Chromalia Snails laid eggs in a variety of different hues that would then become a variety of different snails. The eggs were only the size of a Knut, and Professor Sprout wanted them to be sorted by colour.

It was Peter’s dream job. As a child, he had taken great pleasure in sorting his Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans by colour, then eating the extra Beans until each colour had an even number. Only then would he eat them. Peter had done it so many times that he could now tell which flavour was which, could distinguish mint from grass and butterscotch from earwax. It was an extremely useful skill when it came to pranking his friends.

Sorting the Chromalia Snail eggs was much the same, only Peter didn’t fancy eating them. Each boy had taken a quarter of the eggs and begun to separate them by colour. The eggs were sorted into different containers so that Professor Sprout could put them into the correct conditions for hatching. Peter found it fascinating, but it was clear that no one else shared that opinion.

“I’m not going to make it the full month,” Sirius groaned from where he was hunched over the table. “How many days have we been in detention, twenty?”

“Only three!”

James began to pretend to sob dramatically, hand pressed to his forehead like a damsel in distress. He slumped on the floor for around five seconds before dragging himself up and starting to sort the eggs once more. He lifted each egg as though it weighed a ton, clearly not finished with his over the top display of unhappiness.

Peter looked over his shoulder to see Sirius with his face pressed against the glass of the Chromalia Snails’ tank, fogging it up with his breath. The snails were practically motionless amidst a collection of plants and rocks, entirely oblivious to Sirius. Peter thought they were the only ones to ever be.

Everyone noticed Sirius. His mother hadn’t shorn his hair off at Christmas like she had over the summer so the dark locks were just slightly longer, curling around his ears and the back of his neck. He had an irritating habit of running a hand through it whenever there were any girls around. People often looked over at the Marauders and spoke in hushed tones, but the attention was nearly always on Sirius or James. In Peter’s mind, they could keep the attention.

“Please, snaily snails,” Sirius whispered against the glass of the tank. “Set us free from this endless torment.”

“How do you think the snails are going to do that?” Remus drawled, his eyes heavy as though simply being there in the greenhouse was draining him.

It was hard for Peter to imagine feeling that way. The greenhouse was a tranquil place, lush green plants crawling up the frosted glass. It was warm in there, but not the sticky kind of warmth that made Peter want to turn himself into an ice cube. By this time, the sun had begun to set, casting an orange glow over the entire greenhouse. Peter imagined that he could live right here, sorting eggs forever.

While Peter had almost finished sorting his quarter of the eggs, the same could not be said for his friends. James had only sorted out the red and gold eggs, abandoning all of the others that dared not to sport Gryffindor colours. Remus would sort ten eggs before taking a break, and then he would sort another ten. Sirius had abandoned the task entirely. He had taken the three Chromalia Snails out of their tank and was attempting to race them along the floor of the greenhouse.

“Come on, little snail!”

“Sirius, they’re the size of your head,” Remus said, his eye roll almost evident in his voice. “You can’t possibly call them little.”

“I don’t know,” Sirius said, not tearing his eyes away from the slow movement of the snails across the wooden floor. “They’re sort of cute. Get back on track, Fabian!”

“You named the snail Fabian?”

James looked up from his half hearted sorting at the word Fabian, now intrigued by the racing snails. One of the other snails was of course named Gideon. Peter didn’t really understand why James and Sirius were so obsessed with their beloved Prewett twins. The Marauders were far superior, and they were only thirteen. Well, Peter was still twelve, but he felt much older. How he hated having a summer birthday.

Peter began to sort Sirius’ abandoned eggs as all attention was focused on the snail race. What was so interesting about three Chromalia Snails slithering along the floor, Peter couldn’t tell. He was focused on the neat containers of eggs before him.

Sirius and James’ hushed cheering provided a comforting soundtrack as Peter reorganised the sections. Sirius had put light blue in with turquoise, which wouldn’t do at all. Light blue eggs became snails that could only breathe underwater, whereas Chromalia snails that came from turquoise eggs thrived in complete darkness. Professor Sprout would have a right problem if those two kinds of snails hatched together, Peter thought as he separated the eggs.

Soon, Peter had developed a rhythm and began to sort James’ eggs as well. Remus had also given up. He was currently lying on his back, his jumper having been removed and placed over his head. From the slow breathing he could hear, Peter realised Remus was asleep.

He deserved it. Remus had been revising for their end of year exams non stop since September, but he was really out of control now. There was always a book in his hands, and he rarely had time for pranks anymore. When he went to the toilet at night, Peter often saw the flicker of wandlight through Remus’ bed curtains at all hours.

Peter had sort of given up on exams. He had made sure to do all of his homework this year, only copying from Remus when he absolutely had to. Surely he had picked up enough throughout the school year to do alright. It wasn’t like it was their OWLs yet, and OWLs didn’t really matter anyways once you got your NEWTs.

An outburst of cheering caused Remus to jolt awake, his jumper slipping from his face. Peter turned to see Sirius scooping up the Chromalia Snails and placing them back into their tank while James used his sleeve to clear the silvery trails left behind. Gideon the Snail had apparently won the race.

“Pete,” Sirius said, depositing Frank the Snail back into the tank. “Have you done all of it yourself?”

Peter felt an odd feeling as their three sets of eyes landed on him. They all bore the same expression as they looked between him and the neatly sorted eggs, but he couldn’t figure out what the expression was. He rarely could.

Was it bad that he had done it all himself? It hadn’t seemed like anyone else wanted to separate the eggs, and Peter had found it very relaxing. He began to wonder if the others might’ve enjoyed it, if he should muddle the eggs up again so they could sort them out too.

“You two were racing the snails,” Peter said, far too aware of the hairs on the back of his neck. “And Remus, you were sleeping. I thought I might as well… do it.”

“You didn’t have to, Pete,” James said with that familiar look on his face. Peter had learned that one by now, and he knew exactly what it meant. James felt bad. Worse than that, he felt guilty. Peter found himself scrambling to correct him, to get that expression off James’ face, off all of their faces.

“I didn’t mind,” he squeaked. “I rather like sorting them into separate colours, it was quite… calming.”

“You don’t have to lie,” Remus said in a far kinder tone than Peter had ever heard him use. “That job’s bloody torture–”

“I’m not lying!”

It had come out far louder than Peter had intended. There was something hot burning behind his eyes, and he was acutely aware of how the seam of his left sock had shifted to press uncomfortably against his toes. Even though he knew, in theory, that it was inconsequential, he desperately wanted to scream.

But Peter had done enough screaming for one day. After looking over the eggs one last time to ensure they were all placed in the correct containers, he grabbed his discarded cloak and stood to his feet. He kept his eyes on the ground, unsure if he could bring himself to meet the eyes of his friends. They thought it was torture, so how strange was Peter for enjoying it?

“Let’s just go to bed,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to look fatigued that only brought the tears a little closer to falling. “It’s late.”

“Pete…” James started as the remaining three scrambled to collect their things.

“Come on,” Peter said, already halfway out of the greenhouse. “It’s almost curfew anyway.”

They walked back up to the common room in silence. Peter felt a familiar quiet rage just beneath the surface of his skin, threatening to burst out at any second. He wanted to scream and cry and have all manner of other reactions completely inappropriate for the situation.

It felt as though the others could sense it. They didn’t speak as they got ready for bed, didn’t attempt to bring up the topic again. But Peter could still see their pitying faces imprinted on the backs of his eyelids. They thought he was weird.

This wasn’t the first time that Peter had realised he was different. Before Paul had ran away, when he had still been their parents’ golden child, Peter was often reminded how different they were. His parents would ask why he didn’t want to make more friends than James and Marlene, because Paul was friends with every kid on their street as well as half of Hogwarts. Why did Peter want to spend his time collecting bugs when Paul spent his days playing Quidditch or doing his homework or doing any other perfect pass time? Even with Paul away in Hungary, or wherever he was now, Peter knew his parents would trade him for his elder brother in an instant.

Peter was different, different, different. The word swam around his brain as he lay in bed, materialising on the canopy stared up at the mahogany surface, almost audible as Sirius and James moved between each other's beds. Peter didn’t fall asleep for a rather long time.

Chapter Text

Friday 25th May 1973

Exam season seemed to have crept up on everyone, and the library was frightfully busy. Remus mumbled under his breath about how careless it was to start revision last minute, knowing no one really wanted to receive an audible lecture from a thirteen year old.

Their study group had been going on since the start of the year. Remus couldn’t have felt any more prepared for the end of year examinations, but that didn’t mean he could slack off now. With the Marauders’ month of detentions finally up, he was in the library every afternoon.

The other Marauders rarely joined him, and now was no exception. It had just been Remus, Mary, and Lily at the beginning of the year. Remus found that he rather liked being friends with girls. They were different to the Marauders, but different to the boys back home too.

Being friends with girls meant sharing, and talking about feelings, and hugs that the Marauders made fun of him for. Being friends with Mary meant that Remus got all of the gossip in the castle before anyone else did. Being friends with Lily meant chocolate bars from their stash slipped into his pocket whenever he blamed his full moon related problems on a migraine.

Marlene had started revising with them after Christmas, having received a lecture about not ending up like her elder brother Shay who had only got three OWLs. Though she was initially reluctant, the all round lack of studying had gotten Marlene rather into it.

At present, she was watching Mary draw out an extremely detailed diagram that displayed how everyone in the story she was telling were connected. Remus had been paying attention to start, but it had become difficult to discern between the symbol for siblings and the symbol for ex-lovers.

“Wait,” Marlene gasped, long blonde hair falling into her face as she bent over the parchment. “She snogged her own brotherer? That’s ghastly!”

“No, no,” Mary sighed. “She snogged her ex-boyfriend!”

“Told you it was confusing,” Remus mumbled, earning Mary’s middle finger in his face as a response. “How mature of you.”

Lily swatted Mary’s hand out the way in a vague attempt to get them back on track. They were supposed to be revising for Astronomy, because it was everyone except Pandora’s worst subject. The problem with that was that it left Pandora in charge, so everything had quickly descended into chaos.

Pandora Rosier had hesitantly lingered near the four of them since March, not daring to come any closer until Mary had invited her to. She was a Ravenclaw, though she spent most of her time around the castle with two Slytherin girls. Pandora had startlingly blonde hair and brown eyes that nearly always seemed to be open as far as they could go, like she didn’t want to risk missing a thing.

She was supposed to be helping them all memorise constellations, for Remus only knew how to find the Dog Star because Sirius would never shut up about it. What Pandora was actually doing was annotating her Astronomy textbook, which was apparently riddled with mistakes. She kept crossing parts out with a pink-inked quill, shaking her head at the page like it had put the words there itself.

“Erm, Pandora,” Remus whispered so as to not disturb the gossip session the other girls were now thoroughly involved in. “Is there something wrong with your book?”

“Limitations, limitations,” Pandora shrugged, wagging her finger at him. “They expect us to confine ourselves to such basic knowledge as reciting constellations, when there is so much more out there. Did you know that Flitwick’s put me in the Prefects’ dormitory, just because I took my old roommates’ beds apart to build a new telescope?”

“You… what?”

“Exactly! There was a once in a lifetime astronomical event about to occur, and I’m expected to watch it with the kit up in the Astronomy Tower? Utter ridiculousness, if you ask me!”

“Right,” Remus nodded. “Ridiculous.”

He wondered how on earth it had escaped his notice that Pandora was like this. She often spoke of her experiments, but Remus had assumed it was in reference to Potions class, not dismantling bed frames for technological purposes. She was extremely serene most of the time, for someone so clearly chaotic.

Remus decided he couldn’t let Sirius and James find out about her. Combining their halfwit brains with Pandora’s hidden mad genius would surely result in disaster. Remus also didn’t like the thought of not being needed for pranks anymore, but that wasn’t the point at all.

“To make matters worse,” said Pandora, who clearly was not finished. At least she had left her poor Astronomy textbook alone now. “The Ravenclaw Prefects are so uptight. I asked Cissa to have a word with them but–”

“Cissa?” Remus blinked, feeling as though he must have imagined it. “As in Narcissa Black?”

“Yes, Narcissa’s my cousin,” Pandora said as though that was a perfectly normal thing to say. “But that is not the point of the story, Remus, my goodness!”

He only knew one other person that called Narcissa by that nickname, only one person who was closely related enough to get away with it. That person was, of course, Sirius bloody Black. Oh, he had not gotten to Pandora first.

To make matters worse, they shared a cousin. Remus realised briefly that they probably were cousins. Sirius just had to have everyone and everything, didn’t he? What a prick.

“She’s your cousin? So, are you and Sirius cousins too then?”

“No, no, silly Remus,” Pandora giggled. “My aunt is Narcissa’s mother. Sirius and Regulus’ uncle is Narcissa’s father. Separate sides of the family, but we would cross over at gatherings and galas. I’m not entirely sure Sirius knows who I am.”

With that, Pandora returned to the abuse of her Astronomy textbook, which was almost all annotations by this point. Remus felt vaguely stunned by the revelation that Pandora and Sirius were almost cousins. Despite his vow to keep Pandora to himself, or to their study group at least, he would have to ask Sirius about her. So much for that plan.

He then turned his attention to the other side of the table, where Mary was angrily ripping her diagram to shreds. Marlene and Lily just stared at her, eyes wide and faces sheepish. From the expression of rage that Mary bore, Remus decidedly did not want to get involved with whatever had happened there.

“If you didn’t want to know-” Mary tore the parchment once more. “-then why did you let me waste my time drawing a bloody chart?!”

“We did want to know,” Marlene sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose like a tired mother might do. Remus could only guess. “It’s just really confusing when the symbols for siblings and ex-boyfriends look so similar!”

“Oh, so you’re on Remus’ side?”

So much for not getting involved. Remus couldn’t really help himself as he slammed his textbook shut nor as he gasped while clutching a hand to his chest as though he had been shot in the heart. He surely wasn’t dramatically widening his eyes on purpose.

Perhaps it was all the time he was spending with the girls that was making him this way. He could never get away with being so ridiculous in front of the Marauders. Displays of tragedy and melodrama were reserved for Sirius and occasionally James, so it was up to Peter and Remus to be the sane and sensible ones. Remus often wondered who thought that was a good idea.

“My side?” He gasped. “I don’t have a side, Mary MacDonald! I am an innocent bystander in this whole thing, who simply wanted to give some guidance on the fact that your two squiggly lines look extremely similar!”

“They really do look the same,” Lily added, grimacing as though she expected Mary to attack at any moment.

“Well, if you all hate me so much, I suppose I’ll go revise with Neil Shipley instead,” Mary said with a coy look on her face. “I’m sure he’d be glad to see me.”

Marlene and Lily began giggling at once as Mary hid her face in a show of embarrassment that was entirely fake. Remus knew that Mary would never so casually mention something that she actually found embarrassing. Mary’s deepest secrets were for whispers, which meant that whatever was going on with Neil Shipley had to be common knowledge.

Only Remus didn’t know it. He felt quite excluded in that moment as for the first time he experienced the common female feeling of being kept out of the loop. How girls did it was beyond him. Pandora didn’t seem to care at all, now tearing entire pages out of her Astronomy textbook.

“Who’s Neil Shipley?” Remus asked, feeling far too sheepish for the situation. “Is he in our year?”

“Oh no, he’s ancient,” Marlene said in a gleeful hush. “He’s in fourth year, mates with my brother Darragh!”

“He’s only fifteen,” Mary said. “And I happen to be rather mature for thirteen, I’ll have you know. I’m a September baby.”

“That really doesn’t answer my question.”

Remus’ interjection went silent amidst Marlene and Mary’s squabbling. It was terrible how easily they could get off track. He was no closer to knowing what was so special about Neil Shipley, other than the fact that his being fifteen made him extremely old and that Marlene was fairly certain he had a beard.

Lily soon took pity on him, leaning over to speak into his ear. “Neil Shipley is a fourth year Hufflepuff that Mary has a fat crush on.”

“Not just a crush,” Mary interjected, looking extremely offended at the mere suggestion. “I’ll have you know he’s my boyfriend. Or he would be, if we stopped snogging enough for him to ask!”

There were gasps all around the table, even from Pandora. She was alert now, Astronomy work abandoned. Her Astronomy textbook was hardly even a book anymore, just a pile of paper covered in pink ink. She’d even managed to tear up the leather with her bare hands, which Remus found rather frightening.

The loudest gasp came from Remus himself. He wasn’t oblivious to the whole boyfriend girlfriend thing, but he thought they’d have a little more time before they had to figure that out. They were only thirteen, for Merlin’s sake, and Peter was still twelve!

And it was worse than just hand holding. Mary, who was merely two months older than Sirius, was snogging a fourth year boy, and quite frequently by what Remus was hearing. Remus began to wonder when he would have to start doing that, if there was a deadline on that sort of thing.

“He’s just so much more mature than boys our age,” Mary said as though every word leaving her mouth was some newly discovered wisdom. “I can’t imagine I’d have such fascinating conversations with Potter or Black. No offence to you or your mates, Rem.”

Remus just grunted in response. He knew the Marauders weren’t exactly the epitome of maturity, and it was a miracle that Remus was still managing to pass as sort of sensible. Teachers still said they were disappointed in him when they discovered he was connected to a prank, whereas they just expected it of the others by now.

Peter’s inability to lie had cost him any separation from their pranking shenanigans. Sirius and James were ridiculously childish, but with the manners and vocabulary of an octogenarian, often reminding Remus of characters from wartime children’s books.

“Darragh says Neil’s the craic,” Marlene shrugged. “But Darragh’s quite boring so that could just mean Neil told a sort of funny joke once.”

“Oh, no,” Mary said, shaking her head fervently. “Neil is absolutely hilarious. I could talk to him for hours on end if the snogging wasn’t so good.”

“What’s it like?” Lily asked in a hushed, secretive tone.

“Warm, and rather wet,” Mary started, and Remus tuned out after that in an attempt to save his sanity, if not his Astronomy grade.

Chapter Text

Saturday 9th June 1973

It had been a terrible idea from the start.

It had started when the Marauders were hanging out in the common room with Frank. James could hardly believe that was a thing they just did now, hung out with the Head Boy. Frank would lounge on one of the sofas with his Prefect friends, and the Marauders would all sit on the floor and listen to his many stories and wisdoms.

Sometimes, his friend Alice would share a story too. She was much less reserved than Frank, who often had to shush her when she began to recount a less than appropriate memory. Alice would always wink and promise to tell the boys later, but she never did. Frank had asked her not to, so she wouldn’t.

James could see why Frank loved her, for he clearly did. James knew what love looked like, he was fairly certain of that. It was in the way Dad always let Mum cheat at cards without commenting on where her aces were coming from. It was in the way James’ parents danced to the radio every night. It was in the way Frank looked at Alice like there was no one else in the room, the way he let her do as she pleased when he was harsh on everyone else.

It was strange how something so good could lead to such a terrible idea. James supposed that was the way of the Marauders, turning both the meaningful and the mediocre into something completely ridiculous.

Frank had mentioned his first year flying lessons, how one of the students had accidentally been given one of the old brooms instead of a practice one. The old brooms that Madam Hooch stored behind the shed were all knotted and wizened, and they hadn’t been calibrated since 1903. The broom had thrown off the student, jerking wildly through the air until Dumbledore himself had come to get it down.

Peter, ever the worrier, had asked if Madam Hooch had gotten rid of the old brooms after that, to which Frank shook his head. It was as though he could see the idea forming in James and Sirius’ brain, for Frank kept shaking his head, more pointedly now.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said in what Sirius called his ‘dad’ voice. “You are not going anywhere near those old brooms, and this time, I won’t hesitate to tell McGonnagall.”

“You say that every time,” Sirius shrugged.

“I know, and it never works.” Frank pinched the bridge of his nose. “What is wrong with you kids? When I was your age, I was scared to death of Minnie McG.”

“I don’t appreciate being referred to as such, Mr Longbottom.”

They all jumped as Professor McGonnagall seemed to appear from nowhere. She had her glasses low on her nose, only adding to her general aura of displeasure as she slowly walked away. Her gaze didn’t leave Frank once and James wanted to laugh at how wide Frank’s eyes had gotten. He would’ve if it wasn’t for the fact he already had a plan in motion.

James knew several things. One, Frank would absolutely never snitch on them to McGonnagall no matter how many times he threatened to use his Head Boy powers against them. Two, there was no way Sirius or James could be expected to forget about the old brooms now that they’d heard about them. And three, James was absolutely going to fly one.

It wasn’t entirely because Frank had told him not to, though James knew that was Sirius’ main motivation. Sirius despised being told what to do, and nearly always did the opposite of what was asked of him. James didn’t want to disobey Frank, but he also knew he wouldn’t stop thinking about flying one of those old brooms until he did it. So he might as well do it right away.

They decided the best time to do it was night, because there was still a small part of James that didn’t want to disappoint Frank. It also meant they were less likely to get caught. Remus was still salty about the thirty days of detention they had two months ago, as well as all the detentions after that.

The Invisibility Cloak helped them leave the castle undetected, and they managed to get into the Quidditch shed with no problems. Madam Hooch really ought to invest in some better quality locks that didn’t come apart with an Alohomora. It was going well, as James mounted the oldest looking broom. Almost too well.

It was at that point that the broomstick took off into the night sky with James only half on it. He dangled upside down by one leg and a weak grip with the opposite hand, leaving him hanging off like some sort of terrified sloth.

His pyjamas flapped loudly in the wind as the broom hurtled towards the ground before swooping up again, clearly trying to be free of James. He rather wanted to be free of the broom too, except that meant he would have to jump off it and plummet twenty metres down, before likely landing on top of the castle. He could picture himself sliding down the grey stone into a pile of broken limbs. James tightened his grip.

“Help me!”

As James listened for a response or any indication that his fellow Marauders were going to offer any help, he realised they were laughing at him. James was nearing death at the mere age of thirteen, and his supposed best mates found it amusing.

He used his free hand to flip them off as he attempted to get a better grip on the broom. This only resulted in both hands slipping off, leaving James attached to the broom by one leg. He cursed his pyjama bottoms, soft from so many wears and washes, as the fabric began to slide against the still jerking broomstick.

So this was how he was going to die, James thought as he bent his knee in an attempt to stop himself from sliding off. He liked to believe that any of the other Marauders would’ve fallen off by now, and that his runs had given him impeccable leg strength. That was probably a half truth; Sirius would be able to hold on too.

“Come on, you pricks,” James yelled, not caring at all if he woke up the whole castle. “Do something! Remus?!”

“What exactly do you want me to do, James?” Remus called out in far too casual a tone.

The broom turned left, causing James to slip off for a moment. He managed to grab back onto it with both hands, dangling down. His arms shook, but he held tight, straining the muscles. James knew all those press ups were paying off.

His white knuckle grip tightened as the broomstick darted from side to side, swooping up and down like a bull attempting to free itself of its rider. James thought he really should attempt to get back onto the broom, but just hanging off it was hard enough. He would have to start doing even more press ups than before.

He was so focused on not letting go that James didn’t really register that the broom was now serenely floating down towards the ground until his feet landed on the grass. He let the broom drop to the floor, turning to berate his friends for their lack of action.

Instead, he was met with the sight of the other three Marauders hanging their heads. Next to them, with his hands on his hips and his pyjamas all rumpled, was Frank. He looked far angrier than James had ever seen him, his eyebrows low in a stern frown.

James hung his head too as they began the walk back up to Gryffindor tower. At least Remus had thought quickly, stashing the Invisibility Cloak away before Frank could notice it and realise how they’d managed to escape the castle undetected. James really didn’t fancy explaining to his dad how he’d got that one confiscated.

“You did exactly the opposite of what I told you to do,” Frank said, using his ‘dad’ voice again. “James, if you want to be a bloody Quidditch player, you have to live long enough first!”

“Sorry, Frank,” James mumbled.

Their footsteps echoed through the empty corridors as they walked back into the castle. James had been in too much of a hurry on the way out to realise how silent the castle was. Everyone was asleep, except them, asleep like they really should’ve been.

The Fat Lady giggled at the sight of the four ashamed Marauders as her portrait swung open. They filed into the common room, grateful not to find McGonnagall waiting for them. James figured they had tested Frank’s restraint too much this time, so he would probably tell her anyway.

Somehow, letting down Frank was the worst punishment James had ever received. He wondered how he could’ve ever complained about scrubbing cauldrons when the frown on Frank’s face was so harrowing.

Frank marched them all up to their dormitory, standing in the doorway with his hands on hips until they were all in bed. James wanted to kick himself. The brief thrill hadn’t been worth the near death experience, let alone Frank’s disappointment.

“There’s only twenty days of school left until I graduate,” Frank sighed, folding his arms over his chest. “I’d appreciate it if you stayed alive that long, alright?”

“Sorry, Frank,” they all said in unison as he waved his wand to extinguish the light.

Chapter Text

Friday 29th June 1973

He really had been planning on failing. It was all planned out, how he’d purposely fail all of his exams just so he could rub it in his parents’ faces like it was proof that he wasn’t the son they wanted. Like they needed proof. But then Sirius had pictured the small smile his mother would give him if he did well, and next thing he knew, he was trying his very hardest.

They were packing up for the summer, or at least Peter was. He neatly folded all of his clothes, categorised them, and placed them into his trunk. Remus’ attempt at packing had been dumping his drawers into his trunk and getting all four of them to sit on it until it was at least half closed. That was good enough for Remus, apparently. James was now nowhere to be seen, probably off mourning the loss of his beloved Frank Longbottom.

Sirius sat on the edge of his bed, looking down at the sheet of parchment in his hands. He’d achieved full marks in every subject, apart from a ninety-four percent in Astronomy because he’d refused to label Orion’s Belt on the chart.

He hated himself just a little bit more in that moment, hated how he would always strive to make his parents proud. It was a stupidly unattainable goal, yet Sirius had been working towards it his entire life. For once, he would’ve liked to like being a disappointment.

It was his parents’ fault. The moment he could talk, Sirius was locked up with all manner of tutors. He could speak several languages, ballroom and ballet dance, cast spells he couldn’t imagine anyone would ever use, and ace any of his Hogwarts exams without revising once. He hated it, hated his parents, hated himself. Sirius wondered if he would ever feel any emotion as strongly as he felt hatred.

“How’d you do then, Black?” Remus said, standing up from where he had been sitting on his case.

Sirius stuffed the parchment into his trouser pocket, putting on a nonchalant smile. He was good at those. “Made a right mess of them. Oh well.”

“Oh well?” Remus repeated incredulously. “Who are you and what have you done with Sirius Black?”

“Piss off!”

“Sirius, you were third in the year last exams season! You expect me to believe you’ve suddenly lost all of those brain cells?”

“Must have,” Sirius shrugged, and that was the end of that.

James returned soon after, a mopey look on his face that was absolutely to do with Frank. Sirius liked Frank, liked his stories and the way he turned a blind eye to the Marauders’ activities. But Frank was no Bodhi Rune, and he certainly wasn’t Gideon or Fabian, so Sirius couldn’t really see why James idolised him so much. Frank had snitched on them to McGonnagall about the whole broom thing, landing them in detention until two days before term ended.

The term was ending. It was strange to even think about, and Sirius had been avoiding the topic for as long as possible, but that was quite hard with his trunk packed and the Prefects running about to make sure no one missed the train.

He wouldn’t see any of his friends for two whole months, a fact that almost didn’t feel real. There would be no Peter to beat him at chess. There would be no Remus to bicker with. There would be no James to force him to train for Quidditch.

It would be just him and Regulus, yet that felt different now. Selfishly, Sirius missed the days where he had Regulus to himself, when the outside world couldn’t have him because Sirius did. Regulus had friends of his own now, and had developed enough consciousness to not just go along with whatever his older brother said. Sirius realised that this was probably how Bellatrix and Narcissa felt when he stopped letting them put him in dresses.

“Can the two of you finish moping? We’ll miss the bloody train.”

Sirius looked up at the sound of Remus’ voice. Both Remus and Peter were stood in the centre of the dormitory, suitcases packed and ready to go. James was sitting on his bed with his head in his hands, still clearly not over the fact that Frank was leaving. Sirius realised he must look the same, perched on the edge of his bed and staring into space.

They all looked odd out of the uniform Sirius was so used to seeing them in. He was envious of their shorts and tshirts, for to appease his mother, he had to wear casual robes that weren’t really all that casual at all. In the summer heat, he was sweating buckets.

He stood from the bed, grabbing his suitcase. “Come on, Potter.”

James reluctantly dragged himself up, groaning loudly for extra dramatic effect. He picked up his suitcase, which he had surprisingly already packed, and the four of them said goodbye to their dormitory for another year.

They managed to get to Hogsmeade Station without missing the train, securing a compartment for themselves. So, technically Mary and Marlene had gotten there an hour earlier to get the compartment, but they were all in it now so that didn’t matter much.

Lily soon appeared too, looking morose enough to assume she had just been talking to Snape. Sirius didn’t really understand what was wrong with girls, hanging around people they didn’t really like and who didn’t really like them. He wondered what Remus’ fascination with spending time with girls was, because he really couldn’t understand it.

It wasn’t that Sirius didn’t like the girls. Mary was quite pretty, and he held a high respect for anyone who would punch Slytherins on the regular. Marlene seemed to hate Sirius for stealing her spot on the Quidditch team, which he was rather surprised by himself. She had been much better during the tryouts than he had.

But Lily, who was apparently Remus’ bloody best friend, just seemed like a bit of a wet lettuce. Sirius had learned that expression from Remus, and found it fit Lily perfectly. She was an absolute swot, just like Remus, but unlike him, she rarely spoke up. She whispered a lot, something girls seemed to favour.

Sirius wasn’t convinced she was worthy of taking up so much of his Remus Lupin’s time. For Remus did belong to him, to the Marauders, and Sirius would very much like it if Lily stopped trying to take him away.

“Alright there, Black?” Mary asked, pulling Sirius out of his thoughts. “What did that armrest do to offend you?”

Frowning, Sirius looked down to see he had been pulling threads out of the armrest without realising. Oops. The plaid fabric was almost completely unravelled in some places. At the thought of this getting back to McGonnagall, he cast a quick Reparo to stitch it back together.

Sirius looked up, putting on the easy smile he had mastered early in his life. Just a flash of teeth, just the right amount of smugness to look as though he was perfectly at ease and not at all plotting the demise of Lily Evans mere minutes ago. Mary gave him a similar smile back, though it didn’t look fake. She looked like she really did know something that Sirius didn’t.

Mary looked at him like that a lot. She seemed more mature than everyone else their age, and Sirius liked to think he was rather mature too, though he knew Remus would argue the opposite. Perhaps if Mary wasn’t going out with that fourth year Hufflepuff, Sirius might go out with her.

“How’s the boyfriend, MacDonald?” Sirius smirked as he leant back in the seat, ignoring Remus fervently shaking his head.

“Neil?” Mary scoffed, then made a gesture as though she was throwing up. “Don’t even mention that name in my presence. He’s a worthless cretin!”

“You loved him last month,” Remus said incredulously. “Please, spare Sirius the emotional speeches we’ve suffered all week.”

Mary pouted at Remus, folding her arms over her chest. This didn’t affect Remus in the slightest, as he was currently more preoccupied with attempting to throw himself out of the tiny train window, so as to avoid hearing Mary talk about her boyfriend again.

Or ex-boyfriend, Sirius thought. Mary was single now, and so was Sirius. Third year seemed like an appropriate time to start having a girlfriend, and Sirius really did like Mary. She was fun, outgoing, and well developed for their age.

Sirius could imagine the horror on his parents’ faces if they found out he had a Muggleborn girlfriend. It was a tantalising prospect, a way to really enjoy being a failure. He would ask Mary out when they came back to school, he decided.

He looked over at James, who was frowning intently at Lily. Perhaps he had also realised they needed to save Remus from her. Across the compartment, the two of them were huddled together over a piece of parchment as they so often were, scribbling away with one of those Muggle pens. Sirius kicked Remus shin, causing him to look up.

“What are you being so secretive about?” Sirius said in a stage whisper. “You can’t still be working, we’ve finished exams now.”

“It’s not work,” Remus replied, as Lily folded up the parchment and tucked it into the pocket of that stupid pink dress she was wearing. “Sirius, how much would you pay for this pen?”

“I dunno,” Sirius shrugged, eyeing Lily suspiciously. “A couple Sickles, why?”

“Good, we were right, Lils,” Remus said, and the two of them nodded conspiratorially.

Lils. It was worse than when the girls called Remus Rem, because at least Sirius could laugh about that and imagine Remus didn’t like it either. Since when were they on nickname territory? Sirius and Remus were only in the first names stage!

Remus and Lily immediately began whispering again, leaving Sirius to his own thoughts again. He looked out of the train window, squinting in the blinding sun. In this weather, it was easy to imagine a world where his mother might take him and Reggie to the beach, where they’d run down the sands and push each other into the ocean. Sirius pictured himself holding his brother’s head under the water, making sure to pull him out just in time.

It was the kind of summer he could imagine his friends having. James, Peter and Marlene might spend all summer on the beach together. Remus and his new friends might take a boat out onto the ocean. Mary might have a summer romance in a seaside town. They all had possibilities.

Sirius didn’t have to imagine how his summer would go. He would spend almost all of it inside Grimmauld Place, practicing piano or ballet. His mother would take one look at his ninety four percent in Astronomy and he would be locked up in tutoring sessions all summer.

He would only be let out of the house to go to Uncle Cygnus’ house to have tea with Narcissa or to meet Bellatrix’s evil looking husband Rodolphus. The only reason Sirius tolerated Rodolphus was that his marriage to Bella meant Sirius didn’t have to share a last name with her anymore.

Perhaps Mother would let him visit Andromeda. It was doubtful, for Aunt Druella had visited Grimmauld Place to burn her middle daughter from the family tapestry. She was cut out of everything, and Sirius felt sick when he remembered no one had been to her wedding. Mother had foiled his plan to sneak him and Reggie out so they could attend it.

Andromeda had written to him a month ago to say that she was expecting a child in January, and that she wished Sirius could meet her. He didn’t like the defeatist way she’d written it, as though it was entirely impossible that Sirius would ever meet his new cousin.

Outside the window, he could see London approaching. WIthout meaning to, Sirius found himself sitting up straighter, running a hand over the single crease in his robes. By the time the platform rolled into view, all traces of Hogwarts Sirius were gone.

He prayed no one would notice, but James always did.

Chapter Text

Upon returning to Talglyn, Remus immediately fell back into rhythm with the boys. It was just like Christmas, only winter coats had been traded for shorts and tshirts, or no tshirt if you were Gaz. He seemed to have an aversion to not being topless when the sun was out.

The first time Remus had seen Gaz shirtless was the day the five of them went down to the lake. Gaz had peeled off his shirt and dived straight into the water. His skin was littered with small scars, burn marks, bruises. Remus couldn’t stop staring, enough that Gaz noticed. Everyone noticed.

“He likes to tinker,” Carwyn answered, stripping down to his pants and beginning to wade into the lake. “Likes to take machines apart and put them back together again, and he’s never careful.”

“You’re not my keeper, Wyn!”

Gaz retaliated by pulling Carwyn down into the water. Remus watched from the bank as the two of them wrestled, splashing about and pushing each other’s heads down under the water. He felt lighter inside just from observing.

But clearly they weren’t there to observe. Rhys had already shed his denim shorts, pulling his top over his head with one hand. It was a terribly cool move, so cool that Remus didn’t dare attempt it. Rhys was the tallest of them all, but he wasn’t lanky like Remus was. He filled his frame out. He was bronzed all over, not with the farmer’s tan that Gaz and Carwyn bore. No, Rhys looked as though he lived on the sun.

He caught Remus staring, flashing a smile that glinted like the gold cross around his neck did when it caught the light. Remus looked away, shedding his clothes without a thought of the scars that lay beneath them. He was stripped down to his underwear by the time he remembered what his marred flesh looked like.

But no one was looking. Gaz and Carwyn had swam out to the middle of the lake, too busy treading water to cast a glance back to the bank. Rhys was wading in, wincing at the cold water. Emrys had abandoned his trousers, but was still wearing the odd white tunic he adored, which was now getting rather damp.

When Rhys did look back at the bank, at Remus, it wasn’t to ogle at his scars. He gave them a brief once over, as though they were inconsequential. Then he just smiled.

“Coming in, cariad?” Rhys asked with a tilt of his head.

“Yeah, come on, Re!” came Carwyn’s voice from the middle of the lake. “It’s not too cold once you get used to it!”

“Liar, I’m freezing my bollocks off,” Gaz grumbled with his typical sour expression.

That earned him a dunking under the water from Carwyn. Remus stepped into the lake, the cold water making the hairs on his legs stand up. Gaz was right; it was a bollocks-falling-off level of freezing. He waded in, eventually catching up to Rhys.

The two of them got up to about waist level and stopped, looking out onto the lake. Emrys had managed to get to the middle of the lake, where he was floating on his back. The white fabric of his tunic swirled around him and Remus thought how poetic it looked. Or how poetic Emrys must think it looked, at least.

“Thinks he’s Bob bloody Dylan,” Rhys mumbled, shaking his head fondly. “He’d drown himself if he thought his muse wanted him to.”

“But then who would write a sonnet about it?” Remus said. “He’d write about it first and drown himself once it was published.”

Rhys laughed, and Remus realised he had these deep lines either side of his mouth each time he smiled. They weren’t quite dimples, but Remus couldn’t help thinking they were something. He found himself staring instead of laughing, and when he tried to laugh, it just didn’t come out right.

He tensed at the feeling of Rhys’ hand around his wrist, the mischievous glint in the other boy’s eye setting off alarm bells. Before he could realise what was happening and get away, Rhys submerged himself in the lake and Remus found himself being pulled along, down into the water.

The lake was ice cold. The water rushed around Remus’ body and into his ears, the only source of warmth Rhys’ hand on his wrist. It tugged, as Rhys began to swim further into the lake. Remus, who had never properly learned how to swim, flailed his arms and legs in an attempt to trail after him.

When they came up for air, Rhys stood up, shaking off his brown hair like a wet dog. It took Remus a few moments to plant his feet down, at which point he realised they had only swum out to where the water reached the middle of his chest. He looked up at Rhys, who just grinned.

“Can’t have you drowning, cariad,” he said, clapping Remus on his wet shoulder. “Want me to teach you how to swim?”

“I can swim,” Remus started, but the way Rhys tilted his head meant he couldn’t continue his lie. “Fine. You can teach me. But just you, I don’t fancy being bollocked by Gaz for not knowing breaststroke.”

“Gaz and Carwyn are too wrapped up in each other to notice anything else,” Rhys shrugged, casting a glance towards Emrys. “And Bob Dylan’s only floating because he can’t swim either.”

They went down to the lake a lot that summer. At first, Remus felt silly as he kicked his feet in the water, Rhys’ hand supporting him underneath his stomach. He was sure he looked ridiculous. But the others didn’t laugh, didn’t even look.

Learning to swim was worth it. Remus could keep up with the others now. He could strip off his clothes on the bank and race to the centre of the lake, thrashing madly. He would never get there first, but with a laugh on his lips and lake water in his hair, Remus didn’t really mind.

What he did mind were the lads’ other favourite activity. When they weren’t going down to the lake or meeting in the woods, they would go to Carwyn’s farm. His parents seemed to know Rhys and Emrys very well, but Gaz lived like a second son. Remus supposed that was what happened when you had worked for the same family since you were eleven.

Mr and Mrs Hughes didn’t seem to notice that Remus had been added to the group, but there was always a sandwich for him in the box that Carwyn’s mom gave him each morning. They hung out in one of the fields at the back of the property, away from the cows.

This was where his friends’ hobby came in and before he knew it, Remus was playing a sport. Worse than that, he was playing a sport by choice. Gaz, Carwyn and Rhys were on their school’s rugby team and were delighted to have Remus so they could play 2 v 2.

Emrys apparently had a moral objection to physical exercise, preferring to sit on the side and write poems about the brutality of sport. Remus was too scared of being kicked out of the group to tell the lads he also despised sports, and would much rather be on the sidelines with Emrys.

Remus had managed to get himself on the shirts team by partnering up with Carwyn, who refused to remove his shirt after being bullied by Gaz about his farmer’s tan, even though Gaz had an identical one. This meant Gaz and Rhys were on skins, stripping their shirts in an easy manner that Remus envied deeply.

The ball was battered and old, the leather splitting open in some places and faded in others. It was clearly well loved. Rhys placed the ball on the ground and Remus barely had time to think before it was kicked towards him. It was almost cinematic as the ball flew through the air, spinning towards Remus like a physical manifestation of how stupid he was to be playing rugby.

Carwyn caught the ball and went straight for the gap between Gaz and Rhys. Their goal was marked out by one of Emrys’ shoes and someone’s t-shirt, while the other was shown by the sandwich box and Emrys’ other shoe.

Gaz wasn’t going to let Carwyn through, arms wide as he tried to grab him around the waist. Carwyn managed to dodge him at the last second, and he threw the ball to Remus. He caught it.

Oh Merlin. Remus had the ball in his hands, turning all attention towards him. In this situation, he realised it would’ve been best for him to start running towards the goal, to at least attempt to score a try. He didn’t. He had about one second to breathe, before Gaz swept out his legs and Rhys tackled him around the middle.

Clutching the ball to his chest, Remus landed on the grassy ground with a thump. Gaz tumbled down on top of him, pushing the air from his lungs as the ball pressed against his stomach.

“I’ll protect you, Re!”

Carwyn’s heroic words were followed by the heavy weight of his body joining the pile, just squashing Remus further. Rhys flopped down casually on top, laughing as though this heap of bodies in the mud was the most amusing thing he’d seen all week.

His father would be angry about how muddy his clothes were, but Remus didn’t care one bit. He didn’t care that he couldn’t breathe, or that Carwyn’s elbow was in his stomach, or that every time Gaz tried to escape the pile-on, he needed Remus in the groin.

Emrys, however, seemed to care a lot. He was still sat on the sidelines, notebook in his lap. Even buried underneath three people, Remus could hear him sigh, could practically see his eyes rolling.

“There’s something profoundly tragic about seeing so much energy expended for such little gain,” Emrys said in his usual pretentiously wistful tone. “A poem in futility.”

“Emrys Perry, do not pretend you’re too good for us,” Gaz wheezed, his knee banging into Remus’ leg far too close to bollock territory for his liking. “Come join the dogpile!”

“And crush Re even more? Oh, poor Remus Lupin, martyr to sport, suffocated beneath the weight of his companions. I shall write your elegy.”

“I’d prefer to be alive to hear it,” Remus managed to get out with the last of his breaths. “Ow, Gaz! My bollocks!”

***

Lily had only wanted to have a nice summer. She didn’t feel like that was too big of an ask; she didn’t need her summer holidays to be transformative or life changing. All she had wanted was to have two months where she didn’t argue with Petunia, not once.

This was something Lily could not have.

She felt many feelings towards Petunia, so many that she could not even begin to understand. Sometimes Lily adored her. She wanted to spend all of her time with Petunia, to borrow her clothes, and to talk about all the things that were cool for fifteen year olds. She wanted Petunia to find her cool too.

Sometimes, Lily hated her older sister, hated her so much that she wanted to be sick and that it was hard to remember they were sisters at all. She wanted never to see Petunia’s face, to ruin her life, and to scream at her so loudly it woke the neighbour’s baby. She wanted Petunia’s approval in those moments too.

The first few days of summer had been quiet. Petunia didn’t come into Lily’s bedroom to shout at her and she even let Lily watch Top of the Pops when that meant she’d miss an episode of her favourite soap. She’d said that she’d had the telly for the entire school year, so Lily could have it for a little while now.

It soon became clear that Petunia hadn’t done this because of a sudden change of heart. Lily had come downstairs to see her older sister wearing a pretty dress and some of their mother’s red lipstick. She was checking her blonde hair in the mirror, smoothing it intently.

“Tuney, where are you going?” Lily yawned, smoothing her own hair. She was still in her pyjamas, and her red hair was all sticking up at the back from where she rolled about restlessly in her sleep.

“I’m going to the cinema, with Vernon,” Petunia smiled, gasping dramatically. “Oh, I haven’t told you about my boyfriend Vernon, have I?”

Lily shook her head, but she didn’t much want to hear about Petunia’s boyfriend Vernon. She wasn’t supposed to have a boyfriend at all. Petunia was supposed to be happy just because Lily was home, because she had missed her little sister so much that she couldn’t bear to spend a minute apart.

Petunia had always been obsessed with boys. She would come into Lily’s room before bed, all shy smiles that weren’t really shy at all. She would gush about her new crush of the month until Lily had to pretend to fall asleep just so she would go away. These crushes were always based on some meaningless interaction, like the time the neighbour’s son brought the post in and his hand brushed Petunia’s. Lily had heard about it for a week.

The crush would consume Petunia’s life. She wouldn’t talk about anything else for weeks, until she inevitably had her heart broken. She always made it sound more dramatic than it really was, painting a picture of betrayal when a boy who knew nothing of her feelings dared to speak to a girl.

Having a boyfriend was different. Petunia had never called any of these her boyfriend, though she would occasionally profess that one was her future husband and future father of her future children. She never went to the cinema with any of them. Clearly, Vernon was different.

Petunia managed to talk about Vernon for twenty minutes straight without even taking a breath. She only stopped at the sound of a car rolling onto the gravel driveway. Surely Vernon wasn’t driving, wasn’t old enough to drive if he was taking Lily’s fifteen year old sister out.

“Oh, that’ll be Vernon,” she said in a chirpy manner. “He’s got his own car, you know, passed his test on his seventeenth birthday!”

“He’s seventeen?!”

“Don’t be so mean, Lily!”

There was a knock on the door. From the way Petunia’s entire face lit up, and her little monologue about him, Lily expected a film star to be standing on their doorstep. But Petunia opened the door and it was just a boy.

He wasn’t much taller than Petunia, though he carried himself like a giant. He was a little bit chubby, with dark hair that covered his entire head and trailed too far down the back of his neck for Lily’s liking. He hadn’t dressed up as much as Petunia had, in a simple t-shirt and jeans.

Vernon was just a boy, and Lily hated him for it. Petunia deserved more. Her sister, such a complex person, should never settle for just a boy. She should be swept off her feet by someone even more besotted with her than she with them. She needed someone who would understand her, deserve her, and Vernon looked as though he wouldn’t even try to.

“Hello,” Lily said, because it seemed Vernon wasn’t a talker. “I’m Lily.”

“Well, Lily,” Vernon said, and Lily hated him even more.

She hated him because he didn’t say hello back. She hated him because he spoke to her as though she were a small child. She hated him because before his eyes had glanced up at her, they had been fixed on the neckline of Petunia’s prettiest dress. He probably didn’t even notice the heart sewn into the collar that their mother embroidered on every dress they had. He probably never would notice.

“I’m going to steal your sister away, if that’s alright with you.”

It was not alright with Lily, but she knew Vernon wasn’t really asking. She just nodded, watching the fond way Petunia gazed up at her worthless boyfriend. No, Lily wanted to say. No, it’s not alright. She’s my sister and you can’t have her. Give her back.

She didn’t say a word, simply watched through the small window in the front door as Petunia got into Vernon’s car. He didn’t open the door for her, like Dad always did for them all. It took them forever to leave the house but Lily loved watching her father dash from door to door.

Lily let herself stew for an hour or so before she decided to leave. She would not be here when Petunia got back. There would be no one to listen to her talking about stupid Vernon. No, Lily would go see Severus instead.

He was nicer in the summer. In summer, being a Gryffindor or a Slytherin didn’t matter. In summer, there was no Mulciber or Avery or Wilkes to egg Severus on. In summer, they could be as they always had been: best friends.

She found him sitting by their favourite tree. Its leaves created a wide area of shade to sit underneath, and it had been the perfect climbing tree before Severus removed a branch and attempted to drop it on Petunia’s head. Lily tried not to think about that.

“Hello, Sev,” Lily said cheerily, sitting down beside him.

“Hello.”

It was a curt reply, but perhaps she only thought that because she was in a bad mood already. Severus closed the book on his lap, his Potions textbook, hurriedly shoving it into his messenger bag. Lily briefly wondered if she should’ve started revising already, preparing for her new subjects.

Lily had chosen Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, and Arithmancy, as had Mary and Marlene. She saw no point in taking Muggle Studies, even though it would be an easy class. Severus hadn’t spoken to her for a week because she refused to take Ancient Runes with him, but it was far too similar to Maths for Lily’s liking. She had been glad to leave Maths in the past.

She hadn’t done well in primary school, hadn’t been very clever at all. Instead of envying witches and wizards who had grown up learning magic, Lily decided she would be better. It had taken a lot of reading, but now people would ask her for help because she was better at something than them. In some subjects, she was the best.

Severus would always be the best in Potions. He devoted all of his time to it, and Lily knew she would never be better than him. Severus seemed to enjoy that fact, though he had been rather stressed when she came second in the year in the subject during their first year.

“Petunia’s on a date,” Lily said, picking at the grass casually. “His name is Vernon, which is such an ugly name. He’s nowhere near good enough for Petunia.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Severus drawled. “Besides, if they get married, Petunia will move out and you won’t have her bothering you anymore.”

“They aren’t going to get married,” Lily frowned, because surely they weren’t. Not yet anyway.

“Oh, they will. He’ll probably get her pregnant and be forced to marry her.”

“That’s a horrible thing to say, Sev!”

Severus just rolled his eyes, waving her off like it wasn’t an unkind thing at all. Like it was the truth. He changed the subject, rambling on about how annoying he found Potter and Black. Lily didn’t like them much either, not with how they bullied Severus.

She wasn’t really listening to him, but he didn’t seem to notice. Lily preoccupied herself with plucking blades of grass from the ground, letting them fall through the air. It was relaxing, though you wouldn’t have known it from the frown on her face.

Lily thought it was strange that she had waited so desperately for summer. It was turning out to be rather unpleasant, dull and repetitive. She wished more than anything that she was back at Hogwarts.