BLAME

Chapter 5: Fall Upon Your Knees

Previously…

“Merlin, give me patience!” 

Remus lupin didn’t lose his temper often, because he was too scared of losing control, in general, in everything. But when he snapped, if he finally lost it, you paid attention.

Sirius looked back at James with tears in his eyes, then looked away immediately, as though James had slapped him back.

“Merlin, fuck! I just…” his voice cracking.

Remus put his hand on Sirius’ shoulder.

“Padfoot, please,” he said in a low voice.

“He was my brother, and now he… both of them…” Sirius swallowed.

“I know. And he owes us an explanation,” Remus said.

James looked him in the eye for the first time that day. He felt sick.

“You owe me an explanation, James, for trying to turn me into a murderer. Why? What did I ever do to you to merit such… to merit that? Was I only ever a dark creature, scum, in your eyes, that you could just use me to do your dirty work on a whim?”

***

I didn’t do it. I didn’t fucking do it. It wasn’t me. I swear to you. All I did was try to help Snape and get him away from you. And then I made the stupidest decision of my entire life. There isn’t a single fucking day I haven’t regretted it. It was Sirius. Fucking goddam Sirius fucking Black. Ask him why he did it!

“I asked you a question, James,” Remus’ tone was level.

He didn’t sound angry or upset. He sounded numb. James wanted to be anywhere else but here.

“I… Merlin, fuck!” James struggled against the metal still on his wrists. “Let me go!”

“He asked you a question, Potter, have the decency and guts to answer him!” Sirius Black snapped, standing up in a duelling position.

“Fuck off,” James said, feeling his heart rate surging, the muscles in his arms tensing under his Infirmary gown. 

“Now you listen to me, Potter, I don’t give a flying fuck what- “ Sirius’ voice rose.

“I SAID FUCK OFF, BLACK!” James roared up at him, the muscles in his arms and shoulders bulging as he tried to break free of his restraints. “ACTING LIKE YOU WERE SOME SORT OF FUCKING SAINT! WHAT DID YOU EVER DO FOR ME?”

Sirius blinked, visibly taken aback.

“Pardon?” Remus’ voice had turned icy.

“You heard me,” James spat out, not taking his eyes off Sirius.

James watched as Sirius swallowed, turning away from him for a moment. 

“Not going to bother answering, are- “ James said.

Sirius turned back then, chin high.

“We both know I never did anything to merit your friendship, Potter,” Sirius said, in a voice that shook, trying to steady his breathing. “Not yours, not Moony’s, not Wormy’s. We all know I’ve always been a prick of the highest order - a selfish, shallow, bad-tempered, nasty bastard. I always believed you’d all get sick of me eventually, evict me from the marauders. I may be many things, but I’m not stupid. We both know I never deserved your friendship. I’ve always lived up to my mother’s belief that I was a disappointment- “

“Sirius, don’t…” James said in a hoarse voice.

“What I’m saying is that you owe me nothing, but you owe Remus an explanation, because whatever about me, he did not deserve what you did,” Sirius said.

Remus looked like he wanted to say something to Sirius but couldn’t speak. Remus shook his head, took a deep breath, and pressed his lips together tightly, like he was trying to stop them trembling.

Merlin he was going to cry. What could he say?

“Sirius,” he said in desperation, gripping the sides of the chair tightly.

“Please, James, I need to know why you did it. It’s been haunting me since then.”

The anguish in Remus’ voice was worse than his own. He looked at Sirius. Why had his friend done it? Loyal, brave to a fault, Sirius, who always treated Remus better than he treated anyone else, protective of him?*

“I don’t know,” James looked at the ground, trying to remember what he could about what Sirius had been like just before the prank, before everything had gone to hell. “You, I, I had a lot of stuff on my mind. Problems I didn’t, couldn’t, talk to anyone about.”

He guessed Sirius had been having problems with his parents – he recalled how gaunt and agitated Sirius had looked after the Easter holidays. How he hadn’t slept in weeks.

“I wasn’t hungry, I wasn’t sleeping well,” he said.

A vivid memory - of Sirius staring at their map, worrying about Regulus, of the fight with the Slytherins where Snape had attacked Sirius, lying on the floor of the corridor, unable to move.

“Snape attacked me around that time. I wasn’t thinking straight. I know it’s not an excuse, it doesn’t explain…” his voice broke.

There was silence. His shoulders slumped.

“Why didn’t you tell us? We could have tried to help you,” Remus said quietly.

Why hadn’t Sirius told them, told him, his best friend, his damned brother, what was going on? He looked up slowly, tears in his eyes. 

“I don’t know. I… something to do with the pureblood… with what Lily called toxic masculinity… I couldn’t tell you when I need help because…” he looked at Sirius beseechingly.

“Because boys don’t cry,” Sirius whispered.

He closed his eyes, nodded.

“And you, you told Snape how to get past the willow and locked him in the shack with me?” Remus said.

He looked like it was taking a super-human effort for him to say it. The rest was a complete lie, it was easier to say it.

“I did,” he said, looking straight ahead. “I tried to kill him.”

“Why?” Remus said.

He hated lying, it went against every fibre of his being.

“Because I hated him. I thought he deserved it.”

“And what about me? Did I deserve to become a murderer?”

James’ Adam’s apple moved up and down, unable to look at him.

“No.”

“And when Dumbledore found out the truth and expelled you, you just went to Voldemort and offered your services?” Sirius asked, incredulous.

That was the truth.

“Yes,” he said, looking Sirius straight in the eye.

“Had you already thought about becoming a traitor, about going over to their side?”

“Never.”

“Merlin, damn it! It doesn’t make any sense, Pro- Potter.”

Sirius turned away, trying to compose himself. He felt sorry for him.

“I know,” James said quietly.

His wounds were beginning to pain him. Remus hadn’t said anything. He dared a glance in his friend’s direction. Remus was picking at his jumper, pulling at imaginary pilling. The wool was old, frayed at the cuffs, see-through at the elbows. How was Remus surviving? Did he not have a job? He wanted to buy him a new jumper. He wanted to set up an account and pay him a regular monthly allowance. Maybe he could do it anonymously? He wasn’t sure how much money he had left.

“He won’t let me!” Sirius said, bristling with indignation.

James jumped. With the sudden movement, one of the wounds on his back re-opened and his face turned grey.

“What?” he said.

“I saw the way you looked at… he won’t fucking let me pay for anything, alright? Literally. I’m sick to death of asking him to let me… “ Sirius waved his arm vaguely in Remus’ direction, looking ashamed.

“You don’t ask him, you just do it,” he replied, ignoring the flash of irritation across Remus’ face.

“Listen here, Prongs, I did that, and the next day, he just promptly dumped the galleons onto my bed and walked out,” Sirius said. “He kept it up for a week.”

“Then you owl Gringotts and instruct them to stick that exact sum back into his account until he’s too exhausted to keep it up. Preferably make sure it goes into his account two days before the full, every month, when he’s too exhausted to fight back. Keep it going indefinitely if you have to.”

“I’m still here, you know,” Remus sounded livid.

They both ignored him.

“And get him to do something for you, a job, something you hate doing?” James said.

“Paperwork. Can’t stand the sight of it. And duty rotas? Merlin, fuck, if I have to work out another… that’s it! Moony, if you would agree to doing my post-mission process notes and my rota duties, I’d be eternally grateful.”

“No, fuck off!” Remus said.

“Marvellous. Thanks, old chap,” Sirius smiled back.

“Padfoot, wait, I’m not taking any money from, what are you- “ Remus rolled his eyes.

“Thank you, I swear my life is complete. I could kiss you right now, Moony!” Sirius beamed at him.

James noted the way Remus’ cheeks immediately coloured, actively avoiding eye contact.

“Fuck off, I’d rather kiss a glumbumble**,” Remus’ voice was caustic as he cocked his head to one side and forced himself to meet Sirius’ gaze.

“But darling, I’m so sweet you wouldn’t need their treacle.”

Sirius’ cocky smirk and sparkling eyes as he looked up at Remus reminded James of somebody flirting.

“Oh gods,” Remus groaned quietly to himself, shutting his eyes.

“Fine,” said Sirius with an exaggerated sigh. “No need to kiss me, but the offer still stands.”

Remus pinched his nose in frustration.

“Sirius.”

Remus’ voice sounded pained. Sirius’ smile faltered.

“Lighten up, Moony, I was only joking,” Sirius said, flicking his hair to one side and avoiding eye contact.

Remus cleared his throat.

“Right. Yes. Obviously. Er… so… I have to go and…” Remus said, looking at the door.

“Righto,” Sirius replied, with practiced indifference, fixing the collar on his leather jacket. 

He hesitated in front of James for a moment. James said nothing. Sirius walked out. Remus looked like being stuck in a room with James was the last place he wanted to be. 

***

“Look, I know you’ll never forgive me, and that I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m sorry for what happened that night. You should never have been put in that position. Ever.”

The pain was making him feel light-headed. Remus didn't answer but he crossed his arms, face drawn.

“And Snape, are you sorry for what you did to him?” Remus said, sounding tired.

Fuck Snape. Fuck the lying bastard. To have to agree to his fucking terms and then to have to put up with him after the snake left school and voluntarily became a Death Eater, of his own free will? After supposedly being Lily Evans’ best friend? The one thing that he had enjoyed in the past two years had been getting on Snape’s nerves (well, that and getting to know Regulus Black)…

“James, I need the muggle Under-The-Ground attacked in London, by the end of the month,” Voldemort said, interrupting the lavish meal and looking at James expectantly. “It will be a complicated operation.”

“Consider it done, Sir,” James replied calmly, resuming his conversation with Lucius Malfoy as though no further response was required.

He would have to meticulously calculate how to make it look like he had developed the most ingenious plan, and yet also somehow fail spectacularly. It was going to be a nightmare. Voldemort smiled appreciatively.

“My Lord, I’m not sure that Potter is the best person to lead this,” Snape said, glaring at James with undisguised irritation.

“I’m fascinated, Snape,” he drawled, lazily sipping his vela champagne, and looking around at his fellow purebloods for a reaction. “Seems to me that you believe yourself more capable than Lord Voldemort in deciding- “

He was the only Death Eater who called Voldemort by his name. He always had, and somehow nobody questioned it. Not even the man himself. 

“Don’t be a fool, Potter!” Snape’s eyes flashed. “It’s the type of situation that will require a lot of planning, tactical analysis, clever- “

James laughed into his drink.

“Stick to your mangey little potions lab, and I’ll stick to my job, yeah?” he sneered. “Remind me, Sniv, when was the last time you were allowed to lead a mission in this war?”

Malfoy, Lestrange and a few of the other purebloods cackled. Snape’s face went red.

“I am quite capable of- “ Snape said.

“Yes, but are you sure anybody would show up though, if you led an assault? This war-“ James said.

The Dark Lord’s face twitched and he shifted in his chair.

“Campaign,” Voldemort corrected him.

“This war campaign requires leaders that our men will actually trust. As a last resort, fair enough? But honestly, aside from that…” James waved his arm in front of him and shrugged. 

Snape opened his mouth. 

“James, stop antagonising Severus,” Voldemort said, in a bored tone, polishing his nails with his thumb.

Snape’s face lit up.

“My Lord, I would be more than happy to- “

“No,” Voldemort replied coldly.

A few people snorted into their napkins. Snape looked appalled. James poured himself another glass of champagne. Snape was gripping his glass so tightly it looked like he would shatter it any minute.

“À votre santé***,” he said, raising his glass at Snape and winking.

“Snape? Sometimes. Sometimes I’m sorry for what I did to him,” James said eventually. It was true, occasionally, he felt bad for some of the meaner pranks they had played on the tosser. Well. Maybe. The incident near the lake. Once.

Remus looked at him thoughtfully, but didn’t answer.

"Do you want to ask me anything else?" he said.

Remus looked miserable.

"No. I thought of lots of things I'd say to you if this moment ever happened, but now... I just feel tired."

"I'm sorry," James said. Neither of them spoke for about five minutes. The air felt heavy. Stifling.

“Would you mind unlocking these?” James said holding up his wrists. He was feeling very faint.

Remus flicked his wand immediately and the restraints disappeared.

“Are you alright?” Remus asked, biting the side of his lip with worry.

There were no words to describe how much he loved Remus. 

“Spiffing,” he said gruffly, looking at the ground. “I just need to go back upstairs…”

He tried to stand up, but the room was spinning. Remus sprang to his feet and caught him before he fell. He hissed in pain at the touch.

“Sorry,” Remus said, worrying his bottom lip and carefully placing a strong arm around him. “I’ll give you a hand.”

Having Remus there by his side, willing to hold him, helping him, made him suddenly feel overwhelmed. Tears sprang in his eyes. He nodded, unable to speak, tears rolling down his cheeks, hoping Remus hadn’t noticed. They walked slowly up the winding staircase until they came to the door of the Infirmary. 

“I know you took that hit for me. You nearly died. Don’t ask me how I know it wasn’t by chance, that you did it to save me, but I know,” Remus said, taking James’ hand and squeezing it. “Thank you.”

He couldn’t try to deny it or look at Remus, because he was crying, and because he was afraid he would break down and tell him the truth, and he wasn’t going to do that after all these years. He squeezed Remus’ hand, as hard as he could, and walked inside. Once the door was shut, he leaned his forehead against it, taking deep, shuddering breaths and trying to compose himself before anyone saw him.

***

“James?”

He inhaled sharply.

“Are you alright?” 

Lily Evans was standing there in a pair of duck egg blue Infirmary robes (or scrubs as they were weirdly named). The colour looked beautiful on her. She looks tired. Her hair was falling out of her bun, tendrils curling around her hairline. Her eyes as vivid emerald as he had always remembered then to be. Looking at him with a small frown, concerned. They thought he was a Death Eater. Why should they care? He didn’t deserve it.

He tried to reply but black spots danced in front of his eyes.

“Right, you’re coming with me. To bed,” she said, in a firm voice.

Gods, what he wouldn’t have given to hear her say that to him in another life? 

“Terribly sorry to be such a nuisance, Evans,” he said, wishing his voice sounded stronger. 

“Don’t be an eejit, Potter,” Lily said, he could feel the muscles in her arms holding onto him tightly, struggling to keep him upright.

He couldn’t recall how he got to the bed, semi-conscious. He woke up a few hours later. It was dark outside. Lily Evans was still standing beside him.

“I’m fine, you know,” he rambled, trying to sit up slowly.

“Don’t move, I was just finishing these healing charms!” Lily said sternly as she placed her left hand gently onto his shoulder, firing wordless spells in quick succession with the other one.

He licked his dry lips, looking up at her, almond shaped eyes narrowed in concentration.

“You’re good at this, you know- agh!” he said, biting his lip at the pain.

Her cheeks glowed, like the sudden warmth of a peach sunset.

“Shush. Let me do this properly,” she said. “There. All done.”

She helped him sit up, legs hanging down over the side of the bed.

“Do you need to go somewhere, use the loo?” she asked. “I can help you.”

“Why are you helping me?” he asked. “The Death Eaters, we, have injured many innocent people, they, we, have- “

He stopped and looked at her. His throat felt parched. 

“James, I don’t believe you are a wholly bad person. You did a bad thing when you were only sixteen, a decision that I'm sure you regretted many times. But one does not simply walk out on Voldemort,” she said. “Dumbledore trusts you now. And Remus is right. Marlene says you jumped in front of him, on purpose. You saved his life. Underneath it all, you are still a good man.”

It was as though everything was catching up with him. All the years of stifling his emotions, feeling nothing, pretending he was fine, lying all day every day, far from anyone he cared about, reviled by them all.

“Please don’t,” he whispered fiercely. “I can’t…”

“James.”

“Fuck, Evans, please- “

She had always been kind, kind and strong, even and especially to those who didn’t deserve it. But not usually to him. Because he had been a git. A stupid, immature, spoilt, impulsive, idealistic fool. But her voice now was so full of pity. He couldn’t bear it.  He covered his face. He couldn’t stop, silently sobbing.

“There is no person so severely punished, as those who subject themselves to the whip of their own remorse****,” Lily said. “It takes a strong person to admit you were wrong.”

She stepped closer to him, so she was standing right in front of him, between his legs. She reached over and pulled him towards her carefully, till his head was pressed against her. And she held him while he cried for a long time.

“Beidh tú ceart go leor, A Chara,” she whispered, in a soft language he couldn’t understand. “Ní rachaidh tú ar ais chuige go deo, Ní ligfidh mé dó tarlú, Seanleannán.”*****

 *** 

Notes

* for full background of why Sirius told Snape about the Whomping Willow, see Boys Don't Cry 

** Glumbumbles - furry insects that produced treacle that induced melancholy in those who consume it. The treacle was used as an antidote to the hysteria caused by eating Alihotsy leaves.

*** Cheers in French

**** quote by Lucius Annaeus Seneca (Roman stateman)

***** “You will be alright, my friend. You will never go back to him again, I won’t let it happen, my old love/flame.” In Irish

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