Eclipsed

The day after the full moon, James flooe’d directly to the Lupin cottage from Broomhaven once classes were out. He emerged from the fireplace, cane in hand, into a warm, familiar living room, the scent of freshly baked bread filling the air. 

"Hello? Mrs. Lupin?" 

Hope came out of the kitchen and greeted him with a warm smile and a cup of tea. "James! How good of you to come. Remus is resting upstairs," she said, her voice quiet. “Do you want me to take you?” 

“No need, I think I’ll be alright. Just point me in the direction of the stairs, if you could?” Once oriented properly James made his way through the living room, his hand trailing along the familiar wall for guidance, and up the stairs. “Remus?” James called out, his voice gentle.

Remus stirred, his voice hoarse from behind one of the doors in the short hall as he replied, "James? Hey, mate. What are you doing here?"

"Couldn't shake the feeling you needed company," James pushed open the door and walked in, feeling for the seat when his cane hit the bed, and took a seat. He reached out and hesitantly, Remus' hand grabbed his. The flesh beneath his fingers felt thin and bony, a stark contrast to the solid strength James remembered. "How are you feeling, Moony?" 

"Just a bit under the weather still," Remus mumbled. 

James hummed noncommittally. The forced lightness in Remus's voice didn't fool him. 

"You sound… raspy," James said cautiously. "And your finger are feeling awfully bony, Re."

Remus pulled his hand away gently. "Just a bit run down, that's all," he said, his voice strained. "Don't worry about it."

James frowned. He knew how the full moon could leave him feeling drained and weak. But this was different. He knew Sirius had tried to get this information out of him the night before, but knowing Sirius, he’d probably gone in hot and they'd fizzled out into an argument quickly.

"Remus," James tried again, his voice gentle and soft. "You know you can talk to me, right? We've been through a lot together."

Remus sighed, his shoulders slumping forward in defeat. "I know," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper.

There was a long silence in the kitchen, broken only by the crackling of the fire in the hearth. James could practically feel the turmoil brewing within Remus, struggling to choose between the desire to confide in his friend and the fear of burdening him.

Finally, Remus spoke. "It's just… Dumbledore's research," he said, his voice barely audible. "It's been… demanding."

"Demanding how?" James asked, his concern pushing his questions forward.

Remus sighed, a deep rumble that seemed to come from the very core of his being. "It's classified, James," he said, his voice flat. 

"Remus," James said cautiously, "I know you don't want to talk about it, but…"

He hesitated, his instincts telling him to tread carefully. Remus had always been fiercely loyal, and James didn't want to push him further than he was comfortable with.

"But what?" Remus finished his sentence, his voice barely a whisper, as he knew the harder questions were coming.

"I just… I wish you could tell me everything," James admitted. "You know we'd all be here for you, no matter what."

A flicker of emotion crossed Remus's face. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, as if struggling with the words.

Finally, he let out a shaky breath. "It's not that I don't want to tell you, James," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Believe me, it's killing me to keep this all bottled up inside."

James leaned closer, his heart pounding in his chest. "Then why don't you just tell us?" he whispered. "Marauder's honor, you know we won't tell." 

Remus ran a hand through his hair, his face etched with frustration. "Dumbledore," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "He… he trusts me with this. I'm the only one who can do it."

"Do what?" James pressed.

Remus hesitated for a moment, then continued in a hushed tone. "This… research… it's important, James. More important than anything you can imagine. But it's also dangerous."

James didn't need sight to sense the weight of the burden Remus carried. "Dangerous how?" he pressed.

"There are… risks involved," Remus admitted, his voice strained. "Things that could go very wrong.

James felt a lump form in his throat; worry and frustration warring within him.

"Remus," he began, his voice gentle, "has Dumbledore put you in danger for a good reason?"

Remus's shoulders slumped further. "There's a good reason," he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. "And… well, it’s bigger than any one person's life is really worth."

James understood the weight of his friend's words. Remus, ever loyal, would never shirk his duty, even if it meant sacrificing his own well-being. But the thought of him facing this alone made James's blood run cold.

"It just feels wrong, that you're keeping this all from us," James said, doing his best to keep his voice calm. "We've faced things together, Remus. We always have. Why can't we face this together too?"

Remus let out a shaky breath. "Because… because this is different, James," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "This is bigger than anything we've ever faced. And if something goes wrong…" He trailed off, unable to finish the terrifying thought.

"If something goes wrong… what?" James pressed, needing to understand the full extent of Remus's fear.

Remus hesitated for a long moment, then spoke in a voice barely audible. "I… I can't tell you," he said, his voice filled with a mixture of fear and determination. 

James sighed, and reached out to grip Remus' hand tightly, his voice low and calm despite the tremor in his heart. "Remus, listen to me," he said. "This burden you're carrying… it's tearing you apart. We're your friends, your brothers. Let us share it. We can face whatever it is together."

Remus closed his eyes, his face etched with internal conflict. James could almost hear the battle raging within him, the loyalty to Dumbledore warring with the desperate need for support.

"I want to tell you, James," Remus said, his voice raw with emotion. "I want to tell you everything. But I can't risk it. Not yet."

James understood. The weight of the secret, the fear of his friends' safety, it was a heavy burden even for Remus to bear... but James also knew that leaving his friend to face it alone was unthinkable.

James squeezed Remus's hand gently. "We'll figure it out," he said, his voice filled with a quiet strength. "We always do."

Another sleepy sigh from Remus. “I think Sirius is gonna break up with me,” he said quietly. 

“Why would you say that?” James quickly asked, wondering if the fever had returned from the sheer outlandishness of the prospect. 

“I just… He’s been more distant, ever since I started working for Dumbledore,” he began, before a sharp inhale and a telling sniff indicating tears. “This is so dumb,” Remus continued with a sad huff of laughter through the beginning of tears, “but the other day when he left, he didn’t say he loved me, and then I couldn’t say it back, and– and–” 

“Shhh, shh,” James cut him off, squeezing his hand again, “he’s not gonna break up with you, he’s just worried, and an emotionally stunted person.” James shook his head. “Moony, I think it is impossible for Padfoot to hate you. I’ve never seen anyone more head over heels for anyone in my life!” 

“Well, it’s not like you see much of anything these days,” Remus joked, albeit weakly, and James’ mouth fell open in shock. 

“You little bastard… that was a bloody good one. If you weren’t on the brink of death I’d punch you, you know.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

A cold gust of wind whipped around James as Lyall's familiar sensation of Apparition subsided. He blinked, taking in the familiar sounds of London – the distant rumble of traffic, the rhythmic clatter of a dustbin being emptied down the street.

"Thank you, Lyall," James said, his voice filled with gratitude. "That was much easier than the floo for me, really."

Lyall grunted in response. "Seemed the right thing to do," he said, his voice gruff but laced with a hint of care. “Err… thank you for talking to Remus today. He seemed to be in better sorts.” 

James gave him a small smile back. “Anytime Lyall. See you soon, I hope.” 

With a final clap on the shoulder, Lyall vanished, leaving James alone in the hall. He fumbled with his keys, already thinking about all the assignments he had to do for the evening, before finally, the door creaked open, and he stepped inside.

"Sirius?" James called out, his voice laced with concern.

There was no answer, only muffled sounds of splashing water and heaving from the direction of the bathroom.

"Sirius? You alright?"

His voice echoed down the empty hallway, met only by an unsettling silence. He followed the sounds, his hand trailing along the wall, until he reached the closed bathroom door.

"Sirius?" James called again, his voice laced with concern.

There was a groan from inside, followed by a series of wet spluttering sounds. James's stomach churned. He knew exactly what was happening now.

"Sirius," James said, his voice firm, "open the door."

The handle rattled, and the door creaked open a few inches.

"J-James?" Sirius stammered, his voice slurred. "Where’ve you been?"

The smell was unmistakable – the acrid tang of cheap whiskey mixed with the sourness of vomit.

"Sirius?" James asked, his voice stern. "What's going on?"

Sirius straightened up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He tried to force a smile, but it came out more like a grimace.

"Just a bit of a stomach bug, Prongs," he mumbled, his voice thick and slurred. "Picked it up at work, of all places."

James wasn't buying it. He knew Sirius's tolerance for alcohol, and the smell was far too strong for a mere stomach bug.

"Sirius," he said, his voice firm, "don't lie to me. You've been drinking."

Sirius's face flushed a deep red. Shame flickered in his eyes, a momentary crack in his bravado.

"Just a bit," he mumbled, his voice barely a whisper. "Just needed to take the edge off."

James sighed, his shoulders slumping. He knew there was no point in getting angry. Sirius was clearly in a bad place, and anger wouldn't help. Even though he was grossed out by the smell, had so many things to do for school, and his caretaking limit had been reached for the day, James pulled Sirius in tight. 

"What's going on, Padfoot?" James asked, his voice filled with concern. "Why are you drinking like this again?"

Sirius closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Just… frustrated, James," he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. "Remus… him being so secretive… it's killing me."

James understood. Sirius, with his loyalty as fierce as his temper, hated being kept in the dark. The unspoken fear for Remus, the helplessness in the face of his secrecy, was a potent cocktail for his self-destructive tendencies.

"I know," James said, his voice filled with empathy. "But getting drunk won't help."

Sirius let out a humorless laugh. "What else can I do? He won't tell us anything! It's like he doesn't trust us!"

"And instead of showing him how he can trust you," James said, his voice sharp, "you're here getting wasted?"

Sirius flinched at the harshness in James's voice. Shame washed over him again, hotter and more intense than the alcohol burning in his veins.

"I… I just needed a break, James," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Seeing Remus like that… And I can't… I can't help him."

James sighed, his disappointment heavy. "Padfoot," he said gently, "You know you can't keep this up."

Sirius's face flushed further, a mixture of shame and defiance. "Keep what up?" he slurred, his voice laced with a bitterness that made James wince.

"The drinking," James said, his voice filled with a quiet sadness. "It's not helping."

Sirius scoffed. "What else am I supposed to do, Prongs?" he said, his voice wobbling. After angry Sirius always came weepy Sirius, and James completely melted. 

"Alright, Sirius," he said, his voice breaking a bit. "Let's get you cleaned up and into bed. We can talk tomorrow."

Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but James cut him off. "No arguments," he said. "Just come on."

He gently guided Sirius back to his bedroom, the air thick with the stench of vomit. As he did his best to help Sirius change into clean clothes, James couldn't help but kick over a couple empty bottles of what smelled like some very strong Muggle liquor scattered on the floor.

Finally, James settled Sirius into bed, tucking him in like a child. Despite the anger simmering within him, love for his friend outweighed it. T

"Sleep it off, Padfoot," James said, his voice low and soothing. "We'll deal with this tomorrow.” 

As James backed out of the room, pulling the door closed, he made his way over to the couch, but before sitting, headed to the floo, took a pinch of powder, and kneeled down, feeling for the right place before throwing the powder down and sticking his head inside. 

“Evans, McDonald, McKinnon residence, please.” 

After a moment, Mary's voice came through.

“Oi! What the fuck is this shit?!” Mary obviously was beyond surprised to see James’ fiery head appearing in their home. “Marlene, has the Floo always done this? This is fuckin’ scary, Potter, I swear–” 

“Mary!” James cut her off, laughing despite himself. “Can you grab Lily for me?” 

Mary agreed, and went to grab Lily, whose voice rang out clear. 

“Hello darling,” Lily said breathlessly. “So sorry I couldn’t come with you to see Remus today, just had a killer exam and I needed to–” 

 "Lily," he breathed, his voice choked with emotion. There was so much he needed to say. 

"James?" her voice came, laced with concern. "Is everything alright?"

The concern in her voice was a dam breaker. The pent-up worry about Remus, the frustration at Sirius's backsliding, it all threatened to spill out in a torrent of words. But before he could speak, a choked sob escaped his lips, raw and vulnerable.

"James?" Lily's voice sharpened with alarm. "What's wrong? Where are you?"

“I– I’m at home,” he said, “I just… there’s so much going on, love.” 

"It sounds like you're carrying the world on your shoulders, James," she said softly.

The tender concern in her voice brought tears prickling to his eyes. He imagined her face at 16, how he remembered it, her emerald eyes shimmering with empathy, her fiery hair cascading down her back.

"It's just… I'm scared, Lily. Scared for Remus, scared for Sirius, scared for all of us."

"I know you are," she said gently. "But remember, James, you're strong. And you have people who care about you, who want to help."

A pause hung heavy in the air, then, "Lily," he began, his voice barely a whisper. "Do you think… could you come over?"

There was a beat of silence, then a soft laugh that filled him with a warmth he hadn't realized he craved. "Of course, love," she said. "Just give me a few minutes to grab a change of clothes."

True to her word, Lily stepped through the floo into James’ arms. A flicker of surprise crossed Lily's face when she emerged from the fireplace, but it quickly softened into concern. James, his face was etched with worry, and he was starting to look like a shadow of himself.

"Alright, Potter?" she asked, and he took a shuddering breath. "What's wrong?"

He beckoned her closer, his hand reaching out to find hers. "Come, sit with me," he said, his voice tired, and he pulled her to the couch. 

James explained the situation… all of it. He poured out his worries, unloading the heavy burden of Remus's secrecy and Sirius's relapse in a torrent of words. He was overwhelmed with school, where his teachers thought he was dumb, either because he was brown or because he was blind, and with their mostly conflicting school schedules he missed Lily more than he thought possible. 

Lily listened patiently, her voice a constant source of comfort. She didn't offer empty platitudes or false solutions. She simply listened, her hand clasped tightly in his. 

"I feel so helpless," James confessed, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Remus is clearly suffering, and Sirius… well, you saw him. Drinking won't make anything better, and he can’t stop himself."

Lily squeezed his hand gently. "You're not helpless, James," she said, her voice firm but filled with warmth. "You're a good friend, a loyal one. You're doing everything you can."

Her words were a balm to his soul, a much-needed reminder that even if they couldn't fix everything, their support for each other mattered.

"But we can't just sit here," James said, a flicker of determination sparking in his voice. "We need to do something."

"Alright," she declared, her voice filled with a playful determination. "We can clean up this mess in the bathroom, can’t we?."

She gestured towards the hallway with a tilt of her head. The acrid smell of whiskey still lingered faintly. James swallowed, a wave of shame washing over him for not noticing Sirius's condition earlier.

"Are you sure?" he asked, a tremor in his voice. "It's… not pleasant."

Lily reached up and squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Of course I'm sure," she said, her voice filled with a gentle firmness. "Think of it as a team effort. We fight the bad things together, right?"

James couldn't help but smile. Lily always knew how to cut through his anxieties. 

As they worked, their laughter echoing off the tiled walls, a strange sense of normalcy settled over them. Lily cleaned with practiced efficiency, her movements quick and sure, while James helped with the disposal, his nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Honestly," he managed with a chuckle, "whiskey truly is an insult to the senses, on the way in and the way out."

Lily snorted with laughter. "Couldn't agree more.” She set the cleaning supply bin back down on the counter with a thump. “But you know, cleaning isn't the only thing we have time for tonight, is it?"

Before James could respond, she pulled him close, her arms wrapping around his waist. He felt the heat radiating from her body, the comforting rhythm of her breath against his ear.

"Let's forget about this for a while," she whispered, her voice filled with a seductive warmth. James, feeling a renewed sense of lightness, followed Lily's lead back to his room.

He sank onto the familiar mattress, the worn cotton sheets cool against his skin. Lily followed him, her movements a gentle whisper in the dimly lit room.

Their clothes came off in a slow, deliberate way. Lily, with deft fingers, helped James remove his shirt, her fingers brushing against his bare skin, sending shivers down his spine. The touch spoke volumes more than any whispered words, and he reached out to pull her closer as she lifted her arms to pull off her own shirt, reaching for the clasp of her bra. 

Lily, understanding his silent request, leaned in, her body close to his. The warmth of her breath tickled his ear as she whispered, "Here, Potter."

He found her, his fingers unhooking the bra, and as it fell, cupping the soft curve of her breast. Her skin was smooth and warm, a stark contrast to the cool air around them. He traced the outline of her nipples with his thumbs, feeling them harden beneath his fingers.

Lily’s lips found his in a soft, searching kiss. James melted into it, his worries momentarily forgotten as he lost himself in the sensation of her touch. Her mouth was soft and warm, the kiss enough to leave James tingling all over. He explored her face further, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw, the slope of her nose.

Lily trailed kisses down his neck, sending shivers cascading down his spine as he ran his hands over her thighs and up the base of her spine. Her hands explored his chest, the soft touch both comforting and arousing. He felt a surge of warmth pool in his stomach, a familiar yearning igniting within him. 

The scent of her jasmine shampoo filled his senses, intoxicating and familiar. The sound of her breath, slightly ragged with passion, echoed in his ears. The warmth of her body pressed against his, and after a murmured contraceptive charm, he slid inside her, and they did what people do when they’re in love and in lust with each other. 

They lay entwined, the warmth of their bodies a shield against the coming chill. Lily, her head resting on his chest, traced lazy circles on his arm with her finger.

"Feeling better, Potter?" she murmured, her voice throaty and oh-so attractive to James.

He smiled, a feeling of contentment washing over him. "Much better, my love," he whispered, nuzzling his face into her hair. "Thank you."

Lily didn't respond with words, instead pressing a kiss to his bare chest. “Love you too, Jamie.”