I don't know what to name this lol
The Great Hall
3rd January, 1974 – 7:00 AM
The castle was still half-asleep, dust particles drifting lazily through the air as the enchanted ceiling tried to decide between sunrise or stormclouds. Severus Snape walked into the Great Hall like a ghost—early as always, and for good reason. The Marauders wouldn't be awake for another hour at least, and he valued his breakfast free of hexes and humiliation.
The Slytherin table was nearly empty, save for a few exhausted-looking sixth-years poking at toast like it had personally offended them. He slid into his usual seat, reaching for the tea pot before someone else nicked the last of the strong brew.
Regulus Black strolled in a few minutes later, immaculate as ever. Not a hair out of place. He practically glided into the seat beside Severus.
"Sev!" he said, far too chipper for seven in the bloody morning.
"Morning, Reg." Severus gave a faint nod, still half-asleep. "Lily said she'd help me get in... after the Quidditch match."
Regulus froze, one hand poised over a rack of toast. His expression soured instantly.
"What? The match isn't till next week!" he groaned, slumping forward like he'd been personally betrayed. "You're telling me I have to wait another bloody week for this?"
"I know." Severus sighed, stirring far too much sugar into his tea. "But it's the only time she can guarantee the dorm will be empty. I don't love it either."
Regulus made a noise somewhere between a huff and a dramatic death rattle. "That's pants. Absolute pants. I won't be able to come with you if it's during the match."
Severus shot him a sideways glance. "You mean to tell me you were planning on bunking off Quidditch just to sneak into Gryffindor Tower with me?"
Regulus smirked. "Obviously. I was hoping for something dramatic. Maybe some light arson."
Gryffindor Common Room
3rd January, 1974 – 6:30 AM
The room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the dying embers in the fireplace. Lily Evans stood with her back to the hearth, eyes wide and filled with panic. Her hands trembled at her sides.
James Potter stood before her, wand raised, voice low and sharp like a blade wrapped in velvet.
"You're sure he'll be there?"
"Yes," she whispered, barely audible. "He'll be there."
Sirius Black stepped forward, wand pointed at her as well. There was no mischief in his eyes now—only steel. "When?"
"N-Next week," Lily stammered, "during the Quidditch match."
James's eyes narrowed. "Next week? During the match?" He scoffed, running a hand through his already unkempt hair. "Bloody hell, Evans. You better stall him. Delay it. Tell him you've got the flu or your Kneazle died, I don't care—just make sure he doesn't step foot in that dorm before the match's over."
"If you don't," Sirius added softly, "we will know."
Lily swallowed hard, nodding as her heart pounded in her ears.
The Great Hall
3rd January, 1974 – 7:15 AM
The doors slammed open, crashing against the stone walls like a thunderclap. The Marauders strode in as though they owned the bloody place—laughing, shoving, cracking jokes at full volume. They flung themselves down at the Gryffindor table like they were entering a pub, not a place of education.
Everyone turned to look. How could they not?
A few seats down, Lily sat silently, her spoon halfway to her mouth, eyes wide as saucers. The bubbling fury she once felt toward them had twisted into something much colder—fear. She needed to get word to Severus. Fast.
At the Slytherin table, Severus scowled at the racket. "For Merlin's sake," he muttered to Regulus. "Do they have to be so obnoxiously loud? It's barely seven. Some of us haven't hexed our ears off yet."
Regulus didn't look up from his book. "You think it's bad now? Imagine sharing a home with one of them. It's like living in a bloody zoo."
"If I were you," Severus replied, flipping a page in his Transfiguration text, "I'd have shoved him down the stairs years ago."
Regulus smirked. "Don't tempt me."
The two of them sank into the quiet familiarity of shared irritation, letting the chaos of the hall melt away.
But over at the Gryffindor table, the mood had shifted.
James, Sirius, and Remus were no longer laughing.
Their eyes were fixed on the Slytherin table—on Severus, specifically. And worse, on who was sitting with him.
James leaned in close to Sirius, his voice low and dangerous. "We've got to get rid of him."
"Bit harsh, even for us," Remus muttered, buttering a crumpet with far too much focus. "We're not killing him, James. We warn him. That's it."
"He's sniffing around Rosemary," James hissed. "He's mine. He doesn't get to—he doesn't even deserve to look at him."
"Oh, for the love of—" Remus sighed, rubbing his temple. "This is completely barmy. You realize that, don't you?"
"I agree with James," Sirius said flatly, arms crossed. "Regulus needs to learn where he bloody belongs. And it's not with him."
Remus took a slow bite of his treacle tart, then sighed again. "Of course you do. You two share one brain cell between you, and it's currently being used to plot a murder over a bloke who doesn't even know you're obsessed with him."
James and Sirius turned to glare at him in unison.
Remus smiled sweetly. "I said what I said."