toujours pur

The full moon was approaching.

One didn't need to constantly stare at the sky or consult a lunar calendar to know it. A single glance at Remus was enough.

In the days preceding the full moon, he became increasingly anxious and restless, yet simultaneously listless. He'd complain of aching bones and a throbbing head. The Marauders took turns refilling hot water bottles for him as he lay burrowed beneath his blankets, as if seeking refuge in a burrow.

***

This month, Moony had departed for the Shrieking Shack the previous night; they planned to return to the castle together, all four, this morning.

"I think," Sirius said, "we ought to detour to the kitchens for a shepherd's pie on the way back."

"Seconded," Peter nodded, lying on the floor with his legs propped up against his trunk. "I nearly starved to death last time."

"You two head to the kitchens then, and Moony and I will come straight here," James suggested.

"Hand over the cloak?" Sirius settled into a pose on his bed mirroring Peter's, hands laced behind his head.

"Why?"

"What do you mean, 'why'?"

"Why do you need the cloak? You're a dog, and Wormtail's a rat. An excellent team, hardly noticeable, and you can protect Wormtail from Mrs. Norris, if necessary."

"Right," Peter said, his tone tart. "Business as usual."

"Let's just ignore the fact that a dog running through the corridors – unlike a rat – is strange, to say the least. How are we supposed to get back, then, genius? Am I supposed to carry the pie in my jaws? Or is Wormtail going to display feats of rodent heavy lifting?"

James grimaced guiltily and hissed, and they laughed.

"Let's just get to the dormitory, and then I'll dash to the kitchens."

"I'll come with you," Peter said.

"Agreed."

***

This sneak differed little from the others. They slipped through the Whomping Willow into their shack as usual. The only thing was, it was bitterly cold.

Autumn was waning, and even transformed into his stag form, James felt the piercing wind and frost.

Moony lay on the ravaged mattress, batting protruding in clumps from its surface. His pained whimpers echoed particularly loudly in the nearly empty room.

Eventually, they spent the entire night huddled together in a single ball, warming each other.

Remus was so exhausted that he remained oblivious to the unusually small number of wounds he inflicted upon himself during this transformation.

***

"It's cold as hell in there," Sirius shuddered as he shifted back into his human form.

"Hell's hot," Peter pointed out, settling onto the floor closer to the hearth.

Sirius glanced sideways at Remus and quietly recited:

"Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice... You know." 

James nodded approvingly. Moony snored softly in his bed.

"Not bad," James said, and Sirius flashed his razor-sharp grin.

"When in Rome..." His gaze flickered towards Remus, and for some reason, his expression softened.

Peter didn't seem to notice, and James pretended not to, but still commented, "Why haven't Wormtail and I picked up Moony's love for muggle poetry, then?"

"Because you're dolts," Sirius replied smugly.

"You're the dolt. Wormtail, are you going to keep lazing around? Are you coming or not?"

Peter sighed dramatically.

"Prongs, you won't be offended if I don't go with you, will you? I think I'm more likely to die from the cold than from hunger..."

James rolled his eyes. To be honest, he was chilled to the bone himself. He would gladly stay to warm up completely, but they had to make a run for it before it got fully light. He threw on the cloak and slipped outside.

Finally, descending into the kitchens, he melted into the warm steam that enveloped him. The elves were preparing breakfast. He asked them, as planned, for a shepherd's pie, and they were only too happy to oblige, giving him in addition a loaf of warm white bread and a pitcher of milk.

James thanked them with the last of his strength and left the kitchens. The food was a pleasant weight in his hands; the bread was so fragrant that he felt tempted to tear off a piece and eat it right then and there. They certainly won't be going to breakfast, he thought, barely able to put one foot in front of the other. Reaching the Grand Staircase, he sighed wearily at the prospect of climbing upwards, then finally placed one foot on the first step.

A murmur of voices drifted from the north corridor leading to the staircase.

James froze and listened. It sounded like an argument.

He cautiously stepped back, slowly lowered the pitcher to the floor, balanced the pie on its neck, and perched the loaf of bread atop the pie, leaving this lonely little tower standing against the wall. Wand at the ready, he silently moved towards the source of the sound, unseen by anyone.

The further James walked down the corridor, the better he could make out the words.

"You must be so ashamed of your brother... Such a disgrace..."

Hiding in an alcove, James squinted and finally saw who else was awake at this hour.

There were only four of them. Three were standing facing the wall, of whom James recognized two: Evan Rosier, a Slytherin from his year, and the younger brother of that git Lestrange - James couldn't recall his name. He didn't know the third one at all.

Regulus Black was pressed against the wall, surrounded by these three.

"He's not my brother," he hissed venomously.

"Isn't he?" Rosier smirked. "You share the same blood and the same name... Now all of you are traitors, little Reggie." He stepped closer and stroked Regulus's shoulder, as if in sympathy.

"But you can still put things right. We'll help you, Reg," Lestrange said, as though genuinely offering assistance.

James was afraid to breathe. He stood motionless, not even blinking.

"We're inviting you to visit us during the winter holidays. Your cousin Bella will be there too."

Regulus flinched.

"That's right, we're practically brothers now, too," Lestrange echoed. "Now your integrity is my business as well."

"I'm afraid," Black replied, "I won't have much time for social calls."

"You don't understand," said the nameless Slytherin. "This isn't a request. You're either with us, or you're finished. He wants you. Refuse Him and you're dead."

Regulus stared at them in silence for half a minute, and then he laughed. He laughed quietly, and his laughter somehow sounded whistling, like the song of a bird. It was the first time James had ever heard Regulus laugh.

The three exchanged glances, and Rosier punched Regulus in the stomach with a swing. He doubled over and slid down the wall, squatting. When Rosier yanked him by the hair, exposing his face to the weak Lumos light, he was still smiling mockingly.

"Remember, brat. You're not in a position to laugh." The unknown Slytherin examined his wand, then a flash of white light followed, and Regulus finally collapsed to the floor, whimpering and writhing. "That will be a lesson to you."

Rosier clapped his friend on the back, and the two of them strolled towards the Slytherin common room, while the bewildered Lestrange brother soon scurried after them, constantly looking back at Black.

The further they walked, the less Regulus could be seen in the darkness, and when they finally disappeared behind the door, James whispered "Lumos" and ran closer to him.

He didn't appear wounded, but he was clearly in a lot of pain. James lowered his hood, revealing his presence.

"What's wrong?" he asked, frowning anxiously. "What did he do?"

Regulus, wriggling on the floor, didn't seem surprised by the floating head of James Potter.

"Stinging... hex..." he choked out, looking as if he were staring through James.

Oh, Merlin.

Heavy footsteps echoed from the direction of the staircase, and James, without thinking, lifted Regulus, leaning him against the wall, and pressed close to him, covering them both with the Invisibility Cloak.

Regulus was crying. James felt his shallow breaths on his cheek, and his chest felt the spasms of pain. Turning his head, he saw an disgruntled, puffy-eyed Slughorn, dressed in a long nightshirt and cap. He waddled back and forth along the corridor, muttering something about crazy house elves, and then disappeared from sight.

James stepped back, holding Regulus against the wall. As soon as he gripped his left shoulder, Black hissed and squeezed his eyes shut. James hastily pulled down the collar of his shirt, tearing several buttons off. Regulus' exposed shoulder looked as though it had just been scalded with boiling water.

"Deprimo Dolor," James whispered, and Regulus immediately exhaled and went limp.

Leaning his head back against the wall, he swallowed noisily and brushed back his hair, revealing a face damp with sweat and tears.

"Hospital wing," James said in a tone that brooked no argument.

Regulus was silent, walking cautiously beside him, trying not to make his heels click.

By the time they reached the Hospital Wing, it was starting to get light. James took off the cloak, carefully folded it, and then stuffed it under his sweater.

"Madam Pomfrey?" he called, knocking on the door.

"Mr. Potter, it's far too early for visitors, Mr. Lupin is asleep."

"We need your help."

The door opened, and Madam Pomfrey peered out, as neat as ever, but with suspiciously narrowed eyes. She glanced at the pale Regulus and raised her eyebrows skeptically, but said nothing, only opened the door wider.

James helped Regulus to a bed.

Moony lay across the room. His eyes were open, and he was looking directly at James.