February
TUESDAY. FEBRUARY 1, 1972
Peter doesn't get to be alone with James terribly often while they're at school. He hadn't even really noticed this change while it was happening. He'd been far too wrapped up in the swell of the school year- of making new friends and ingratiating himself with his professors. It wasn't until they'd gotten to be alone together again over the winter break that Peter realized how much he'd missed James during it all.
So, on Tuesday night, after curfew, while Sirius is preoccupied with a letter from home and Remus is exhausted, Peter creeps over to James' bed and makes him an offer he knows his best friend won't refuse.
"Let's go exploring." He says, careful to keep quiet enough that none of the others hear. "With the cloak! Like our dads."
James' eyes brighten immediately. "Brilliant." He says. His voice is just a smidge too loud, drawing attention from Remus.
The small boy cracks one eye open to glare at the two of them before rolling over to face the window. With Remus' eyes cast away from them again, James gives Peter a conspiratory smile, and Peter preens. He's missed this.
If there's anything Peter loves as much as James loves exploring, it's a secret that only the two of them know about.
They wait until Remus and Sirius are sound asleep before making their escape. It must be around midnight when they huddle together under the shimmering cloak and step out of the portrait hole into the quiet hallways.
It's terribly strange to walk beneath the cloak. Peter's vision of the whole world around him gets all cloudy. It's difficult to trust his footing as he steps forward.
James doesn't appear to be having the same issue. He strides forward excitedly without any hesitation.
"We ought to check out Ravenclaw's tower," James says. He grins down at Peter as they walk.
He's the only thing in sight without a gauzy sheen over him.
"We can't. Slytherin's got Astronomy today," Peter whispers back.
"Even better!" James says, loud as ever. "Let's spy on some snakes."
***
Peter's heart hammers in his chest as he and James creep through the Astronomy classroom, passing carefully between desks as Slytherin students snore and scribble and such. He clutches at the hem of James' sleepshirt, making great efforts to step just as the older boy steps. James is grinning like he might be biting back a snicker, and that only makes Peter's heart beat harder.
He's heading towards Snape, of course. For all James' talk, it doesn't seem like he hates Slytherins so much as he hates Severus . Peter pretends to understand it, but, really, Severus just seems like sort of a prick to Peter. There are plenty of other Slytherins who might deserve James' ire much more than Snape. Bruce Mulciber springs to mind. Or Bertram Aubrey. Both of whom are sitting at the table behind Snape and Avery.
When they arrive at Severus' table, he's shaking his head. "I can't. I promised Lily that I'd walk her home from Frog Choir."
"Frog Choir." Edmund Avery laughs a nasty, derisive little laugh. "You've got to be joking."
Peter shoots a glance at James. The taller boy's mouth is twisted into an uncharacteristic sneer.
"Plenty of people like the Frog Choir, Edmund," Severus says with more patience than Peter's ever heard him muster.
"Right. Your girlfriend and Potter. That's plenty."
At the mention of his name, James puffs up a bit. He stands up straighter, pulling the cloak up a tad with him. The gauzy film between Peter and the world shifts a little in a dizzying manner.
"Please. I've got enough of a headache as it is," says Severus; his nose scrunches up, reminding Peter of Remus.
Avery leans into Severus, his pale eyes glinting hungrily like a shark's. "D'you reckon Evans might run off with him? Now that he serenades her once a week?"
The nib of Severus' quill snaps, leaving a large ugly ink blot on his star chart. "Shut up." He hisses.
"Don't get so jealous, Sev." Avery snickers. "I'm sure she'd let you tag along."
"Lily has no interest in James Potter," Severus says sternly. "None whatsoever. She hates him! Besides, it's not as though he's ever alone long enough to talk to her, what with Pettigrew always trailing after him," Severus says.
Avery hums knowingly. "Potter and pet Pettigrew." He says the jeer like it tastes sweet. Like he's itching to say it again in an argument.
Peter's face grows hot at once. It's stuffy and hard to see, and it suddenly feels as though he might suffocate beneath this infernal cloak. His eyes prick, but there's no time to blink away the stunned tears that rapidly threaten to spill down his burning cheeks. He's forced to grab James' arms; Peter's pudgy fingers firmly grip James' knobbly wrist, preventing him from grabbing his wand. James clenches his hands into fists as though he might forgo magic altogether. Peter grasps his other hand. He silently pleads for him to reconsider.
"But you're one to talk, Sev," says Avery, his tongue still savouring the taste of cruelty.
Severus goes silent.
He remains that way until the Slytherins are dismissed. Then he gathers his things and storms off; his cloak swishes behind him, making him look like some sort of irritated vampire in his retreat.
The second everyone has vacated the Astronomy Tower, James rips the invisibility cloak off him and Peter. His face is flushed, too, though the underlying emotion is clearly quite different. James is angry .
"That twat." He seethes, balling up the cloak into a rippling shimmering ball of opalescent light. "He doesn't know what he's got coming to him."
Peter hugs himself tightly. "We're already planning-"
"After that, then," James says decisively. "We'll get him after that. He bloody well deserves it."
+++
FRIDAY. FEBRUARY 4, 1972
Marlene's birthday is practically a tragedy after Lily's birthday. There's no party to speak of– no sea of girls to curiously watch from the top of the staircase, no fairycakes to send Remus-The-Bird-Whisperer to smuggle upstairs, and no muggle music to float into the dorm room. Marlene is pretending not to be disappointed by that. But James can tell that she is.
James doesn't even consider himself to be particularly perceptive. Marlene's just a piss poor actress. She's curled up on a sofa in the common room on a Friday night, just picking at the stitching on the seat, for Merlin's sake.
This really couldn't happen at a less opportune time. James is positively swamped. The other Marauders are all upstairs, testing out different ways to get liquids to carry the skin-staining spell Remus is so fond of. James, fearless leader that he is, really ought to be there. Not to mention the mountain of homework he's been putting off in favor of scheming up something dastardly enough to put Snivellus off talking about James and his mates once and for all. He should really get started on that Transfiguration essay.
But Marlene looks so sad…
James figures that if he writes extra big, he might be able to finish the essay on time.
With that decision made, James catapults himself onto the spot on the sofa beside Marlene. She gasps, and he grins up at her, relishing the shocked expression on her face. He can be so sneaky! She hadn't even heard him coming down the stairs.
"Blimey!"
"Happy Birthday." He rights himself and hands her hands her the chocolate frog he'd been saving for Peter. She doesn't need to know it's been living in his trunk since Sunday.
She holds it with two hands, eyeing it with a watery gaze. James doesn't tease her for the tears. She might punch him for embarrassing her. He'd like to avoid the wrath of her itty bitty knuckles from here on out, if at all possible.
"Thanks." She says simply. Her smile is thin, but she tosses her arms around James' shoulders with such force that there's no questioning whether she means it or not.
There's a loud crash from upstairs, and James is almost certain he hears he hears Remus Lupin swear. Marlene's eyebrows shoot up as her eyes track the noise.
"What's that?" She asks no one in particular.
"What's what? I didn't hear anything?" James answers as though the question were directed at him. Big mistake. She frowns, leveling him with an incredulous stare that would put Remus to shame. He opens his mouth to continue his prattling– James finds he can get out of loads of problems through prattling.
Another crash! This time, the swear that follows is more audible… and this time, it's definitely Sirius. "Bugger!" He shouts loud enough to be heard clearly from the Common Room. James would laugh if he weren't so bloody stressed.
"That," Marlene says again. She leaves her spot on the sofa, curiously inching towards the boy's staircase. "Is that your friends?"
Distraction, James! Distraction!
"Open it." He suggests, vaulting over the back of the sofa. He stands in front of Marlene and gestures at the carton she's holding. "We can trade cards."
She blinks at him a few times. "Why don't you want me to go upstairs?"
James gesticulates uselessly, fishing around in his brain for a viable excuse. "Sirius is sleeping."
"Bollocks!" Sirius shouts unhelpfully.
Marlene glares at James. She opens her mouth to speak, but he shakes his head. "He gets cranky when we wake him up."
"Well, he's awake now, so there should be no problem with me popping by, yeah?" She dances around James.
She gets as far as setting a foot on the bottom step before James shouts, "Sirius sleeps starkers!" at her back.
Marlene freezes. Slowly, painfully slowly, she turns back towards James. Her face is a perfect portrait of the bastard child of mortification and childish glee: wide eyes, pink cheeks, and a smile she's trying to hide by biting her bottom lip. "He does?" she whispers, rushing back over to him.
"Can't get comfy, otherwise." James shrugs with what he can only hope comes across as breezy nonchalance. "Now open your present before I think better of it and offer Pete my Montague Knightley."
Marlene unsuccessfully smothers a giggle as she climbs over the back of the sofa with her gift. "Doesn't he have a Knightley already?"
She's caught his empty threat, but it's gotten her back into the safe zone regardless, so James doesn't bother to upkeep the ruse. "Yeah. But he likes chess more than he likes having cards just to have them. Figure I could take a Paracelsus off his hands with that Knightley." James says, clambering over the seatback himself.
Marlene shakes her head fondly and tears into the cardboard packaging around the frog. He catches the candy in midair as it attempts to escape. It's a little melty from sitting in his trunk for so long, which makes it slipperier than it ought to be. It slides right between his clasped hands and onto his lap with a wet little plop.
"Brilliant." He says flatly.
Marlene plucks the chocolate off his person and pops it into her mouth, turning the trading card over in her hands. The portrait isn't present at the moment, but the label reads Bowman Wright in big, swirly letters. A golden snitch darts across the card. Marlene jolts, pulling it closer to her face to watch more carefully, as though she might be able to catch the snitch if she's just a little more prepared.
His distraction worked well enough, but James doesn't think Marlene will be willing to trade him that card. He should probably just save his Knightley for Peter's Paracelsus.
+++
MONDAY. FEBRUARY 14, 1972
Sirius Black would prefer not to have a Valentine, thank you very much. He's not terribly interested in girls at the moment. He's got bigger pursuits to pay attention to, like figuring out if it's possible to make the same pail of water stain different colours, or convincing Remus that 'Beings, Beasts, and Spirits' is the best poem in Sonnets of a Sorcerer, or keeping up his correspondence with Regulus and attempting to coach the younger boy as a spy so that Sirius might finally know what exactly happened with Bellatrix. His plate is full and there is absolutely no room for a Valentine on it.
But Andromeda's birthday doesn't care about any of that.
It's moments like these, standing outside the Slytherin Common Room with Juliette Wilkes holding his hand, that Sirius loathes being the firstborn.
He'd arrived to the festivities punctually, eager to get the whole ordeal over and done with. But Juliette was waiting at the entrywall, back pressed up against the cobblestone, peering wide eyes straight into the solid wall beside her.
"Juli-" Sirius had begun, brows knitting together.
As soon as he'd made a sound, Juliette had pounced on him. She'd grabbed his hand and pulled him up against the wall with her. "Quiet!"
Sirius yanks his hand away from hers. "Excuse you!"
"Shhhh!" She uses her now free hand to cover his mouth. "Listen."
Sirius blinks at her. He briefly wonders if she's gone mad. Sirius has heard of madness before, of course, some say the Black family breeds madness. But he's never seen it for himself before. Could this be what madness looks like?
Juliette scowls at him. His thoughts must be evident in his expression. She tugs on his arm, eyes alight with insistence. "Pudicitia." She whispers.
The entrywall falls away, and Sirius sees what she'd been staring at— his cousins and their betrothed shouting at each other. Andromeda looks furious. Her dark hair has come out of the tight bun she no doubt had Narcissa twist for her; wispy strands frame her rageful face. She's standing on the opposite end of the Common Room from the others, staring Lucius Malfoy down like a matador.
"I wouldn't expect a filth-lover like you to understand!" Lucius seethes. He steps towards Andromeda as he speaks. His gait is menacing, and his eyes are so stormy that Sirius is almost surprised the older man isn't spitting in anger.
Narcissa grabs Lucius' shoulder, halting any further movements towards Andy. "Don't speak to her like that."
But Lucius only shrugs her off. He turns on her, rearing up taller to tower over Narcissa's lithe form. "Stay out of this!" He demands.
Andromeda intercedes, rushing between Lucius and her younger sister. She glares up at him without fear. "Better to be a blood traitor than a murderer!"
Juliette removes her hand from Sirius' mouth and uses it to cover her own, stifling a gasp. Sirius' ears ring.
Murderer? Did she mean Lucius?
No. She couldn't mean Lucius. She couldn't possibly mean…
Lucius Malfoy is lots of things. He's a prick, and a snob, and a blood supremacist, and a bad person. But he's also Narcissa's boyfriend . They're going to get married as soon as they're both of age! So Andromeda can't be talking about Lucius. Narcissa would never marry a murderer!
Even if she'd wanted to, Uncle Cygnus would never allow it.
Right?
"Andromeda, please." Rabastian drags his hand across his face from his position by the fireplace. "Be reasonable."
"Reasonable?!" Andromeda roars, swiveling to stare at him instead. Behind her, Narcissa's bottom lip begins to tremble. Sirius' stomach twists sharply.
"She couldn't see reason even if it were painted on the back of her eyelids," says Lucius.
Andromeda ignores him. "Did you know about this?" She asks Randolphus.
Her betrothed approaches her, reaching out to tuck a rogue strand of hair behind her ear. "Andromeda-"
"Don't touch me!" She slaps away his hand so sharply that it feels like the sound echoes down the hallway. "Don't you dare touch me."
The silence that follows is deafening. It's so quiet, Sirius worries the older students might be able to hear his breathing.
"Were you there?" Andromeda asks, her voice suddenly quiet.
Rabastian says nothing. Lucius smirks. Andromeda's chest heaves. Narcissa sinks into a chair, unable to contain her cries any longer.
"Were you there?!"
"Rodolphus invited me," Randolphus says, and though Sirius doesn't quite know where he'd been invited, he knows it's a terrible revelation. Even if he hadn't heard any of the conversation leading up to this moment, the look on Randolphus' face would have been enough to know that. "But I-"
Andromeda shrieks. She lifts her delicate hands to the roots of her hair and pulls . Distantly, Sirius wonders if that's how it had gotten free from her bun in the first place. Presently, he covers his ears. Her voice is piercing and terrible and wrathful.
Lucius releases his own animalistic sound, lunging towards Andromeda once more, and suddenly, Sirius can't just stand there anymore. He springs into action, running past Juliette and through the entryway.
"Sirius, wait!" Juliette grabs at him, but he's too quick. He's barreling into the Common Room before she can do anything else to try to stop him.
"Get away from her." He demands, whipping his wand from his pocket and pointing it straight at Lucius Malfoy.
Andromeda's screaming cuts off as though her source of air had been abruptly removed. Narcissa leaps to her feet. "Sirius! Put that away ."
Sirius doesn't budge, but Lucius doesn't look frightened. A disgusting, slimy smile slowly spreads across his pale face, and he laughs. He laughs like he'd just heard the funniest joke of his life. He laughs harder than James had laughed when watching the fruits of their Halloween prank. It makes Sirius' hands tremble.
Andromeda grabs Sirius. She pulls him into a crushing embrace, forcing his wand down to his side. Then she jerkily pulls away and grabs him firmly by the shoulders. Her eyes bore into his very soul.
"Andy-"
"Go home, Sirius."
Sirius blinks. "No," He tries to sound firm, but he sounds terribly young and confused even to his own ears. He tries again. "I don't-"
"Home. Now. Dinner's cancelled."
Sirius can see that. He looks around, his eyes halting on Lucius' awful, amused eyes. "What did he do?"
"Juliette!" Andromeda calls.
Juliette comes slinking out from behind the entrywall. Her face is the precise pink shade of her lipgloss, and her eyes summer with frightened, embarrassed tears. Juliette has always been quick to cry when feeling guilty.
Sirius lifts his chin. Juliette might be ashamed of her spying, but he's not. He's a Black. He's as much a Black as Andy and Cissa. He deserves to know what's going on.
"Walk Sirius back to Gryffindor Tower, please," says Andromeda.
Sirius opens his mouth to protest but his shout dies in his throat when he catches sight of the anger in her eyes. Andromeda's never looked at him like this before. Is she angry with him? Why would she be angry with him? He was only trying to help her.
"Happy birthday." He finds himself mumbling instead.
This startles a watery laugh out of his cousin. "Thank you." She quickly wrangles her smile back into a stern countenance.
Juliette takes Sirius' hand again. She pulls him out of the Common Room that the Sorting Hat declared he didn't belong in. Sirius– not for the first time– thinks he's inclined to agree.
+++
"I just don't see why it's such a big deal." Remus shrugs his scrawny little shoulders as he scribbles corrections on Mary's parchment. "It's only a day."
Mary huffs, her dark cheeks flushing with annoyance. "Remus Lupin, you are such a boy!" She sniffs and snatches her homework away from him. She thrusts it under Lily's nose.
"Why me?"
"Because clearly, he's not as clever as he seems, and I don't want him to make a mess of my work," Mary says.
Lily rolls her eyes, though there's a fond tugging in her chest. "Remus is plenty clever."
"Don't take his side." Mary beseeches. She pouts, biting at her shiny bottom lip. Lily wants her to stop. She's got the urge to poke at her friend, to chide her. It makes her feel like Sev.
"There is no 'my side.'" Remus insists. "I only meant that it's a bit strange-"
"It is not strange. " Mary leans across the table and into the boy's personal space. "It is incredibly romantic and wonderful. Nobody ought to be cooped up in a library during the most important holiday of the year."
Her voice echoes a bit against the high, arched ceilings of the very place she'd just disparaged. But nobody shushes her. Nobody's present to do so.
Mary supposes they're all off on dates— having the most romantic time— and Remus doesn't seem to understand why everyone decided to forgo the library in favor of something as frivolous as Valentine's Day… Lily only wishes they'd bicker more quietly. Transfiguration has been getting exponentially harder since Christmas, and she can't afford to let her marks slip. She can't afford to lose her footing at Hogwarts— not when she's finally starting to feel as though she might be ready to actually climb.
Remus replies, "If you really feel that way, then why are you here?"
"Because Lily's here," Mary says. "Obviously."
The tugging sensation returns. Lily is forced to duck her head so close to her parchment that her nose nearly brushes the ink to hide her smile. She wants to remain impartial— that seems to be the best way to handle most of Mary's disputes. She hardly ever quarrels because she means it. She's usually just bored. But then Mary's warm hand comes to cover her own, and Lily can't keep quiet.
"The most important holiday?" Lily raises a brow and hopes she sounds more skeptical than amused. She doesn't want Remus to feel too left out. It's a difficult balancing act, but she likes to think she navigates it fairly well.
"Yes. Of course."
"I'm not so sure about that." Remus' nose scrunches— two tiny wrinkles in rapid succession like he's attempting to suppress an instinct.
"I am." Mary huffs. "It has to be the most important because it's the only one where we're celebrating something that matters!"
Remus stares at her, blinking incredulously for a few moments. "Love?"
"Love!"
Lily giggles into her homework. Both of her friends turn towards her, eyeing her expectantly. She shrugs, resisting the urge to bite her nails. "That's a nice way of looking at it." She tries to dismiss them. If they're not going to revise with her, it's better that they entertain each other so she can get her work done.
"It's the right way of looking at it."
Remus does not reply to Mary. He doesn't even look at her. His amber eyes remain locked on Lily Evans. It makes the little hairs on the back of her neck stand up. It makes her shift in her seat. It makes her give up and lift her nails to her teeth.
He doesn't scold her. Neither does Mary.
"What do you think, Lily?" Remus asks when it's become clear she'll need prompting.
She sighs and puts down her quill, giving up on her Transfiguration work once and for all. She'll have to finish it before bed… unless she gets roped into a conversation about Emmeline's first date. That seems to be happening a lot lately: people roping Lily into conversations. Perhaps she ought to feel flattered.
She answers Remus with a noncommittal shake of the head. "It's all a bit commercial, don't you think?"
Mary gasps, rearing back in betrayal. Lily lurches forward to soothe her even as they both grin at the dramatics. She clasps her hands around Mary's and squeezes softly.
"You're nothing but a Scrooge, Lily Evans." Mary accuses, her dark eyes sparkling.
"A bigger Scrooge than Remus?" Lily asks, wrestling unsuccessfully with her grin.
"I'm not a Scrooge. I'm eleven." Remus says, ever the realist.
"What's all this about Scrooge?" Severus demands, suddenly present.
Lily's heart might've jumped out of her mouth if her startle response hadn't been to bite down so abruptly she nearly severed her tongue. She yelps.
Mary's hands spasm twitchily under Lily's tightened grip. Whether it's surprise or sympathy that drives this, Lily is too preoccupied to ascertain. Remus winces, his hand rising to his own mouth in shock.
"Lily," Severus tuts with eyebrows drawn so closely together they might as well just be one line across his face. "Are you alright? That must hurt."
It does. She thinks she might taste blood– can't tell if that coppery taste is embarrassment or injury.
Sev mutters something, swishing his wand in her face, and the taste subsides. A comforting coolness spreads across the insides of her mouth. She speaks around a swollen tongue to thank him.
"Always."
Lily's eyes flit back to her seated friends. They've stopped gawking at her wounds and put on matching sour masks to stare at Severus. She doesn't let herself sigh, no matter how frustrating it is that all her friends can't get along. She's only got about three of them! Statistically speaking, it shouldn't be that unlikely.
"Would you like to join us?" She asks Severus, though it's mostly out of courtesy. The way Remus wrinkles his nose makes it very clear Sev is not invited. Irritation nips at Lily's insides. He's beingunreasonable. As is Mary, who has begun doodling on her Transfiguration homework to avoid eye contact.
Sev grimaces. He's unreasonable, too. Lily huffs to herself, but she's simply got more patience for Severus than anyone else. It feels built into her bones.
"No. Thank you." Sev shakes his head. A few seconds go by. They feel like an eternity as the students awkwardly avoid one another's gazes. Then he starts back up again. "I thought I might go for a walk."
Lily catches his drift immediately. She begins to pack her things, haphazardly stuffing her blasted quill into her pockets next to her wand.
"We're revising right now," Mary says, finally deigning to look at Severus.
He squints at her, but Lily cuts in before he can say anything that might make Lily upset with him. "We weren't really getting much done, Mary."
Mary pouts, and Lily resolutely ignores it.
"Ta, Remus," Lily says, perhaps a bit more pointily than she intended to. Though, if Remus is hurt by her tone, he doesn't show it.
"Bye, Lily."
She says goodbye to Mary, and the dark-haired girl grumbles something along the lines of, "Better see you for dinner" in reply before rounding on Remus. "You'd better not badmouth Valentine's Day again, or I'm off as well."
Remus blinks rapidly, then stretches out his palms in a show of surrender.
Sev knocks shoulders with Lily, spurring her away. She does not slip her hand into his as the two of them exit the library– not with Mary Macdonald a few feet away. She's more aware of her surroundings than one might assume by the way she always totes along a distraction or two in her bag. She'd see their interlocked hands and make a million wild assumptions. Ever the romantic, Mary would never understand the act of platonic affection. By noon tomorrow, half of Hogwarts would think Lily and Severus were in love or some such nonsense.
So, Lily shoves her hands into her pockets instead.
It's probably better this way, regardless. This way, she doesn't need gloves.
Snow still smothers the green fields on the grounds of Hogwarts, brought by a wild bout of early-morning flurries. By breakfast, it had looked like December all over again. Now, however, as Lily and Severus traipse through the courtyard, the white powder had turned to greyish slush, crunching beneath their feet like crushed ice. The cold had not been anywhere near bitter enough to sustain it.
She lets Severus lead her, listening with mild amusement as he prattles on the rumor that there'd been a fight in his common room during lunch, watching as the cold air puts color into his cheeks. They park beneath a tall birch tree– not too unlike the trees they'd play under back home-- and Lily feels something inside of her settle at the familiarity.
"-and I've only just now realized I haven't shut up about my day the entire way here." Sev takes a seat atop a gnarled root to avoid his robes touching the ground. "I'm sorry. Sorry."
Lily laughs as she takes a seat on a root of her own. "You don't need to apologize, Sev. I like hearing about it."
"Still." He wrings his hands. "Sorry. You speak now."
Lily stills at that. His hands freeze just as she does. "I thought you needed to talk to me about something."
"Oh… no."
"No?" Lily could have sworn that was what he'd meant to imply when he'd invited her for a stroll… Sure, he never said the words 'please come out for a walk with me, Lily,' but he'd tracked her down only to inform her of his plans to go walking. And, honestly, what was that if not an invitation? "Then why did you…?"
Sev shakes his head almost imperceptibly. "I just missed you."
A smile overtakes Lily's face. "I've missed you too, Sev." She kicks some slush towards him as his face brightens to match her own.
"Yeah?"
"Of course."
He relaxes fully against the trunk of the tree.
"Things have just been…" He trails off for a minute and presses his lips together as though he were physically barring the end of that sentence from escape. "Tell me about your day."
So she does. She tells him about how Remus' mates had been mucking up herbology and how, if she had it her way, Potter and Black would be the only ones with detention for the mudslide. She tells him about Mary's ongoing attempts to convince her she ought to try lip gloss. She tells him about her transfiguration homework that she's trying to forget she's stressed about right now and about her complete failure of a revision session. Honestly, attempting to assemble the group on a holiday had been a poor idea. She'd have been better off revising alone.
Sev makes a strange face, something akin to a grimace, perhaps. "Is it really Valentine's Day already?"
Lily laughs. "You didn't know?"
He shakes his head.
"Did you miss all the love hearts hanging from the candles in the Great Hall?"
"Must have done." Severus shrugs. He pokes at the ugly slush on the ground with his finger just to have something else to look at. Suddenly, Lily feels bad for laughing.
"It's just as well." She says hurriedly. "I might have forgotten too if Mary hadn't been so excited about the whole thing."
"I just don't think about it terribly often, is all." Sev shuffles his body about, drawing his knees up to his chest and laying his head across them. He studies her from his new perch. "Do you?"
"Not really. I've got no reason to, I suppose."
"Me neither."
Silence settles over the pair. Lily leans back against the birch bark and peers up at the stars through its leaves. She strains her neck to get a better look at what she thinks might be a constellation, and when the view clears, the new moon subtly winks at her– a reward for her effort.
"D'you think that's a bit sad?"
Lily mulls this over for a moment as the shadowy moon disappears from view once more. "We're only twelve."
"And next time today rolls around, we'll be thirteen," Severus says.
Lily knows that. Of course, Lily already knows that. She can count– she can do all sorts of math, actually. But her stomach sours anyhow. Because while she logically knew she'd be a teenager next time Valentine's Day swooped over Hogwarts, she hadn't yet stopped to think about what that might mean. Honestly, she's been twelve for less than a month. The thought hadn't even crossed her mind.
Twelve had seemed very grown-up before her birthday, but there was no denying that thirteen was the real Rubicon. Petunia had undergone the change at thirteen. Suddenly, it felt as though womanhood was hovering somewhere nearby and Lily was marching toward it entirely unprepared.
It doesn't feel bad to go without a date on Valentine's Day now. But she's only twelve now. It might feel a great deal worse when she's older.
Sev leans forward as though he's read her mind. "We ought to be each other's Valentines."
Lily laughs at that. But she quickly halts when his earnest expression drops into a frown. He's not joking. "Severus?"
"I only meant that if we were both still uncoupled by then, we might as well do something together." He says. "But if it's really such a strange thought-"
"No, no. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh at you. I misunderstood."
He stews. Lily presses on. He always forgives her missteps in the end. She'd do the same for him. That's part of why they're friends: they've got a well of neverending patience between the both of them– reserved solely for use in their relationship.
"It's a fine idea. A really fine idea."
He doesn't reply.
"I'd like to do it. Honest. It'll be fun."
The corners of Severus' mouth twitch, and Lily positively beams, knowing she's won.
"Well, if you're going to twist my arm about it." He mumbles, finally meeting her eyes again.
"I am."
He smiles at that. "I suppose I could pencil you in."
"Tentatively." She plays along.
"Tentatively, of course."
She giggles, which makes him do the same. It's good that he interrupted her failed revision in the library. She reckons this was a much more pleasant use of her time. Lily closes her eyes, content to feel the night air on her face and listen to the music of the crickets.
It's quite peaceful until Sev's stomach growls like a wild dog, and Lily falls into giggles again.
+++
Severus could curse his stomach. He could curse his whole wretched body. He could curse the damned concept of food. He could curse the passage of time!
Everything had been going splendid. No, it was better than splendid. It had been downright perfect. Lily had been a blooming flower beneath the starlight, the shadows making her orange hair seem a deeper red than he'd ever seen it before. Her eyes had been positively glowing with affection. Affection directed at him! Then his bloody stomach went and ruined it.
What was he meant to say when she offered to walk to the Great Hall for dinner with him? ' No, thank you, Lils. I'd much rather stay here and look at you'?! She'd think he'd gone mad! He'd had to take her up on it– had to let her toddle off to her own table.
Fat lot of difference it had made for him. He's still staring at her all the same.
She looks different when she's just one girl in a sea of many. It's as though she's wilted.
Severus would never let her wilt. If she were always with him, he'd make sure she was always in bloom. He's good at taking care of her. He's been doing it for ages now.
Or he had been. Before they came here.
Severus' grip tightens on his fork until it feels like the utensil might leave a permanent imprint on his hand. That's another thing he could curse. He could curse the sorting hat for heartlessly rending Lily from him. He could curse the tables in this bloody hall for being so far apart. He could curse Gryffindor for even existing. And- And-
His stomach makes a sound like a wounded beast.
And he'd better stop now before he forgets to eat anything at all.
With great and admittedly entirely unreasonable irritation, Severus tucks in to his steak and kidney pie. It tastes incredible, which only makes him angrier.
At her table, Lily laughs at something Mary Macdonald said. Severerus' heart doesn't quite get the memo that he can't hear her laugh over the din in the dining hall because it does a flip in his chest regardless, and for one horrible, panic-inducing second, Severus reckons he might not just fancy Lily. He reckons he might be a little bit in love with her.
With great effort, he tears his eyes away from the object of his affection and attempts to quiet his racing thoughts.
Severus doesn't know the first thing about love. It's not as though he's had wonderful role models– or any role models at all– in that department. His Mother and Father despise one another. They'd never made any secret of it. But if he had to hazard a guess as to what love consisted of, he'd probably say it felt something like this.
Love might be wanting to eat with someone at every meal. It might be feeling like you could look at someone forever.
He reckons he could look at Lily forever.
But not right now. Severus cannot look at Lily right now because they've just made eye contact, and she's caught him staring, and he will not allow himself to be weird where she can see it.
He presses a hand to his cheek in an attempt to conceal his blush. He forces his eyes to look somewhere– anywhere– else. They land on the smirking visage of one Edmund Avery.
"What?" Severus attempts to sound snappish and only achieves sulky.
Edmund silently raises an eyebrow. Severus feels more blood rush to his face, the tips of his ears burning so hot they may as well be on fire, but he doesn't budge.
Edmund calls his bluff. His smirk widens into a wolfish grin as he sets himself about to turn around and trace Severus' gaze back to Lily. He heaves in a breath, no doubt slicing up the most exquisitely humiliating thing to shout in her direction.
Severus grabs Edmund's wrist and yanks with a ferocity that surprises even himself. "Enough!" He hisses, spittle flying into his friend's face.
Edmund's eyes don't darken with anger the way Severus had expected they might. Instead, they scrunch closed as the boy is overtaken by gleeful laughter. He can't speak for it for several seconds, clutching at his middle and tipping sideways into a rather confused Bruce Mulciber.
"Quiet." Severus wants to sound as demanding as he had a few moments ago, but he doesn't. He just sounds petulant.
"This is rich." Edmund wheezes. "You're going to make me rich, Severus."
Severus doesn't point out that Edmund's already plenty rich. He's too busy watching Bruce's eyes darken considerably as he forks over a handful of knuts.
Edmund's grin glows with triumph. "I knew you'd scarpered off for a date with the missus."
"It wasn't-" Severus sputters. "She's not–"
Bruce grumbles. "That's the last time I bet on the likes of you."
Severus' jaw tightens. His teeth grinding against one another with the grotesque squealish scraping of bone against bone. He tastes copper without breaking skin as he opens his mouth to reply.
"Now, boys," A calm, deep voice drawls, sounding equal parts amused and exasperated. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you how much we frown upon gambling on school property."
Lucius regards the trio with stony grey eyes. His face is impressively blank– only the tiniest twitch of the lips indicates he's garnered any entertainment from the show they'd unwittingly put on.
Bruce and Edmund turn into statues. Severus watches with trembling fingers as all the cruel joy that glittered in Edmund's pond-scum eyes mere moments ago vanishes. Lucius seems to grow even taller, larger, more formidable in the face of their fear.
"Severus?" He asks mildly. "Is there something I should know?"
Severus needn't look away from the prefect to know Bruce and Edmund are glaring at him. They've likely got a thousand different threats written on their faces, which is just entirely unnecessary. Like Severus is going to do anything to brass off the boys who know exactly how moon-eyed he's been over his best friend as of late.
He shakes his head.
Lucius chuckles a little, his smile growing befuddlingly fond. "How admirable of you, Severus, to let your friends use you as a human shield." His voice is dripping with sarcasm that simply doesn't align with the genuine expression carved into his face.
Severus isn't sure he'd describe saving his own skin from semi-permanent humiliation as admirable , but far be it from him to correct Lucius.
The older boy seems to size Severus up for a second or two, then he shakes his head and chortles again. "It's a useful quality, at the very least." When Severus just blinks at him haplessly, Lucius leans in conspiratorially. "I know some people who might be rather interested in making the acquaintance of a young man with those tendencies. Loyalty and whatnot."
Something inside Severus buzzes at Lucius' whisper, like the vibrations of steel guitar strings. It's strange, the fact that Lucius is speaking to him as though he hadn't thoroughly chewed Severus out simply for standing too close to one of his conversations less than a month ago. But being on the receiving end of Lucius' confidence is a heady feeling. He finds himself leaning in in equal measure.
"Always looking for new members," Lucius waggles his eyebrows in a terribly uncharacteristic manner, causing Severus to twitch in his chair. He gives the younger boy a meaningful look as though to say, 'We'll discuss this later, ' and strolls back towards his end of the dining table with Yaxley and Narcissa and the like.
Severus' heart is unsure how fast it ought to be beating. It does a painful little dance beneath his breast as he watches the prefect retreat. He can still feel his friends' eyes boring into his back.
When he turns to meet them, any attempt to resume conversation crumbles to sand in his mouth. Bruce and Edmund are both staring at him with twin gazes of wonderment and rage.
Severus says the only phrase that's willing to tumble from his dry mouth. "What?"
+++
Remus knows eavesdropping is bad. He may have been raised on a farm, but his mother raised him well. He's well aware it's rude to listen in on conversations that don't involve him… But sometimes, he does it anyway.
It's not entirely his fault! It's not as though he strains his ears to hear anything. It's not as though he presses a glass cup to a wall or waits with his head pressed to a keyhole.
He can just hear things a bit too well at certain points of the month. It only feels like a fun superpower for about a week before it becomes migraine-inducing. And maybe, if pressed, Remus might admit that it sort of feels like he's owed that week.
Lycanthropy is an incredibly painful disease. Indisputably. It makes Remus feel increasingly ill for one week each month. Makes him routinely break bones, and tear skin, and crack teeth. If Remus were an entirely law-abiding citizen, it would also make him uneducated and lonely. There are a million terrible things that come along with lycanthropy.
A million indisputably awful things.
And maybe a handful of things that were worth a debate. Like a solid week of eavesdropping.
So, despite whatever guilt might end up twisting his stomach into pretzels tomorrow morning, Remus has decided he won't be blamed for listening in on James and Sirius tonight. Just because he's making the conscious choice to listen doesn't mean he's succumbed to some grand moral failing. He can hear them! He can't control that any more than he can control whether or not he'll turn in two weeks.
The fact that a silly little thrill zaps through Remus' spine when he hears Sirius' whisper of, "James? Still awake? James?" has nothing to do with it. Nor is it something he'd ever admit– even if pressed.
It just… seems like it might be nice to be in on a secret. A normal secret. One that wasn't some hulking, shadowy thing that loomed over every aspect of his life. A secret that wasn't just between Remus and a handful of well-intentioned adults who somehow always wound up making him feel as though he didn't understand his own affliction.
Remus forces himself to stay stock still and keep his breathing steady as James hums groggily.
He hears the padding of footsteps across the room and the diminutive scratch and squeak of James' glasses leaving his bedside table. There's some rustling of sheets and a pounding heartbeat that's probably his own.
"What's wrong?" James asks, his voice sounds a bit scratchy from sleep.
They go quiet for a while. Remus can hear Sirius' sharp, erratic breathing. He can hear the springs of James' mattress squeaking beneath the restless boy's weight.
"I need you to tell me I'm mad."
"You're mad," James says immediately.
Sirius' breathing does not slow.
"That help any?"
"Not really."
If Remus shuts his eyes hard enough, he can just about picture Sirius' nervous face. He's probably fiddling with his ring if he's still got it on.
"Maybe if you tell me why I'm meant to think you're mad, I can do better."
"I don't know anything," Sirius says in lieu of an answer.
Remus is beginning to think whatever this conversation is, it's not the lighthearted sort of gossip he'd been anticipating. But he feels frozen in place. It's not as though he can just plug up his ears now.
"But you think…"
"James, it doesn't make any sense."
"Whatever it is makes a lot less sense to me right now, Sirius. What are you on about? I don't-"
"I think Lucius might be a murderer."
Remus' fist clamps around the fringe of his blanket. His breath evacuates his lungs in one sharp exhale, and, all too late, the sound of blood roars like the ocean in his ears, making everything else sound far away and fuzzy.
The distress is made of more guilt than anything else. It feels like shame is carbonating his blood, turning him into a shaken bottle of cola. He shouldn't be listening to this. This is private. He'd known that it was supposed to be private, and he'd listened anyway, and now he's being punished with sweaty palms and a sour stomach.
Lucius Malfoy is not a murderer. He's a student, and students can't be murderers. But none of that matters to Remus' roiling gut because Remus and Sirius are friends now– or they've been acting like it, at the very least. They wouldn't be if Sirius knew Remus listened in on a conversation about his family drama. Sirius is so touchy when it comes to his family.
James scoffs. "I wouldn't put it past him, the berk."
"James," Sirius says pleadingly.
The mattress creaks. Remus presses his head down against his pillow, trying to muffle the sounds.
"Yeah, alright. It sounds mad."
"I know!" Sirius sucks in air through his teeth and repeats himself in a hushed, fervent tone. "I know. It's mad."
"But?"
"But Andromeda's not mad. She's not."
Please, Remus thinks, Please let me just fall asleep.
"And she says Malfoy's a murderer?"
Sirius sighs and Remus can picture his pained facial expression. "Not… I don't know. I didn't ask if she meant…"
A soft, suppressed sob rings through the dorm room. Remus' repeated internal plea to just Fall asleep. Please. Please. drowns out whatever James murmurs to Sirius as he attempts to stop the tears.
"I feel like I don't know anything about my family anymore." Sirius manages to gasp through stuttering breaths.
Remus gives up on keeping still. He plugs his ears and burrows into his pillow, praying all the while to drift away. His prayers go entirely unanswered. Remus is still awake long after James and Sirius manage to fall asleep.