BLAME

This is a summary of the story so far, please skip if you don’t need a recap!

James takes the blame for the prank, obliviates Sirius & Peter who knew the truth, Dumbledore uses the opportunity to tell James that despite being expelled, he can turn his life around by joining the Death Eaters as his spy, unbeknownst to anyone else. Snape just knows the truth about the prank, thinks James went rogue after his expulsion and that’s why he joined Voldemort - they still hate each other despite both being Death Eaters. James befriends Regulus.

A few years later, James jumps in front of a terrible spell cast by Bellatrix, meant for Remus. Marlene rescues him from the battlefield and brings him to Hogwarts where Minerva and Poppy work as Healers for the Order. So does Lily Evans. She was distraught to hear he became a DE, as were all his friends. She tries to put her feelings to one side to treat James and saves his life.

Dumbledore introduces James to his old friends/Order members and informs them he has just now decided to become a double agent - a spy for Dumbledore. The meeting between James and his ex friends is hard for everyone. Afterwards Remus tells James he thinks James took the curse to shield him. When he goes back into the infirmary, James breaks down and Lily comforts him . She says in Irish that she thinks there’s hope for him, that she loved him before.

At the next Order meeting, James explains that Voldemort wants to attack Holburn Tube Station. Lily as a muggleborn volunteers to go there and send a patronus, so the DEs won’t realise James told the order. Dumbledore arrives to the meeting with Snape. Snape and James are disgusted to see each other there. Snape has a prophecy which says Lily Evans’ son will destroy Voldemort and this will coincide with the death of the Red Lion. Sirius flirts with Remus who thinks he’s joking and ignores him. James confirms he has met the Red Lion - a caped crusader who fights the DEs, and that he nearly killed him. At the end of the chapter we see him reflecting he IS the Red Lion…

Chapter 7: Crawl

If there was a spy, he was thoroughly fucked. Even without a spy, the fact that Snape knew he was allegedly spying for Dumbledore meant he was thoroughly fucked. The fact he knew that Snape was allegedly also a spy was fraught with danger. Too many lies spinning in the air at once. He had been reckless with his life since the age of sixteen, and the risks he took had escalated dangerously since he had taken on the Red Lion persona.

Aside from him being a show-off and a fool who was always going to get himself killed sooner rather than later

For once, Snape was right. Even a stopped clock tells the right time twice a day.

All he could do was what he had been doing for years now – try to shield them all from the truth and keep them safe, while trying to bring Voldemort down from the inside. And this prophesy? When it came to prophesies targeting Lily Evans, the Red Lion would stop at nothing to keep her safe.

***

Holburn station was relatively quiet that Saturday evening, but still too busy for her liking. Too many muggle shoppers laden with groceries, Woolworth’s bags; mothers with grumpy toddlers; two idle teenagers humming The Police’s Can’t Stand Losing You, looking bored. She tried to look bored too, drumming her fingers over her thigh, scuffing her desert boots against the pavement, other hand holding her wand in the large pocket of her brown duffle coat, transfigured to look like a small paperback. She pulled the red corduroy newsboy cap over her eyes. The Tube arrived. She looked around, frowned, and shook her head, tapping her watch with irritation. If she was being watched, she was clearly waiting for someone to show up, someone who was late.

“Hurry up, Riddle,” she muttered under her breath, scanning the platform once more.

A few minutes later - a tall, blond man with long straight hair and a formal gait in a satin purple coat, wearing sleek, polished black Oxford brogues – a hippie vibe with a sartorial one. Odd. Another man, with dark tan skin and ruffled black hair wearing an orange Ramones t-shirt and a pair of 1920s inspired (original?) black and white patent dress shoes – she recognised him immediately. They were walking towards her, hadn’t seen her, yet.

No time like the present. Opening the book, she stepped out and walked straight into them.

“Oh, sugar, I’m terribly sorry, I wasn’t look- Potter, James Potter?” Her eyes widened comically.

James Potter and his fellow Death Eater froze.

“Lucius Malfoy?” she gasped, hand over her mouth in mock horror. “What are you two bastards doing here, dressed in muggle… OH MY GOD, YOU’RE PLANNING TO ATTACK THE TUBE STATION?!”

A few passers-by slowed down, attracted by her loud, panicked voice. Lucius Malfoy took a step back, as though unsure how to react.

“Who in the name of Merlin is—"

“Lily Evans, mudblood, alone,” Potter answered, pulling out his wand.

“IT’S AN IRA BOMB! GET OUT! HEEEELP!”

She shrieked so violently, sounding so terrified, that the entire platform stopped in their tracks, both men included. Then pandemonium broke out – every muggle in London knew what an IRA* bomb attack was, all of them screaming and hurtling towards the exits.

“Expecto Patronus!” A silver doe burst from her wand tip, galloping into the sky.

“Alarte Ascendere!” Potter’s spell hit her in the chest at full force, lifting her into the air and sending her flying across the train tracks, over the adjacent platform, and hurtling towards the brick wall and death. She opened her mouth to issue a counter spell, a part of the wall behind her shattered, sending unusually high amounts of dust and smoke into the air, surrounding her. She bounced off what felt like rubber, landing on her back a few feet away, entirely unhurt.

“That was not Alarte Ascendere,” she wheezed into her sleeve.

She heard more explosions, at either end of the platform, jets of green light flying around her, far-off police sirens. Lucius Malfoy appeared nearby, aiming his wand at a cowering teen.

“Avada K—"

“Petrificus Totalus!” Malfoy’s body seized up and slowly started falling backwards as Lily swished her wand again. “Calvorio!”

Lucius Malfoy, now sporting a monk-like tonsure, hit the ground.

“One of the biggest arseholes.” She looked down at him, throwing a Locomotor Mortis and anti-apparition curse on him for good measure. “I’m told the hair takes at least a year to start growing again after that curse, coarse and frizzy. If it ever does.”

She had never seen a Death Eater more terrified of her.

All around her, more fellow Death Eaters apparated in swirls of black ink. She cursed four of them in quick succession, before they could even get their bearings.

A scream behind her alerted her to another Death Eater –  Avery, standing over a woman writhing in agony under the Cruciatus curse. She had heard he had somehow escaped from prison a few weeks ago, aided by corrupt guards. She tried to curse him too, but Bellatrix Lestrange appeared at his side, parried it with a counter curse, and began duelling her.

“Oi, Avery, over here, you little prick - or are you too scared of mudbloods to fight one?” she shouted over to him in between wand work, eyes fixed on the black-haired witch in front of her as they fought.  “Last time you attacked me, you ended up in Azkaban, do you remember? Scarlet for you.”

Furious jets of bright green flashed towards her, Mulciber advancing and narrowly missing her as she turned a cartwheel to avoid the closest curse, duelling both.

“Expelliarmus! Incarcerous!” Mulciber’s pointed wand-tip was sticking into her back; a lilting cackle of delight and Bellatrix Lestrange’s bloodshot eyes, pupils blown by the sheer ecstasy of it all, loomed over her.

“Fuck,” she said, as laughter bubbled in Mulciber’s leering eyes.

“I think the dark Lord will let me play with her for a while before finishing her off, don’t you?” Bellatrix yanked Lily’s ponytail back as Avery stuck the tip of his wand into the base of her neck. “He’s been dying to get his hands on her for months, especially since she refused his insanely generous offer to let her join us.”

“So boring and predictable,” Lily said, rolling her eyes.

“I’m not waiting till then to play with this one.” Avery’s smile was too wide, pushing the tip of his wand into the base of her neck, drawing blood. “Cruciatus!”

“Why not indeed.” Mulciber’s wand intoned the same spell.

“Ah, such sweeties,” said Bellatrix in an endeared tone, joining in.

Lily collapsed to the ground in seconds, hating that she could hear her own screams before she could stop herself. Seconds felt like hours, nerve endings on fire, skin scraping, mouth and airways burning like acid, teeth screaming, nails and hair tearing, ears splitting, her vision blurring at the edges, consciousness dropping.

She heard Bellatrix’s peels of laughter cut short suddenly as a brick hit the back of her head at speed.

“Your family tree didn’t have enough branches.” An unusually deep, pureblood voice, oozing contempt.

Avery and Mulciber turned, lifted their wands, breaking their connections to her. An athletic masked figure was flying at them, completely covered in skintight black outfit, black hooded cloak flowing behind.

“Fuckfuckfuck!” Avery’s panic evident as he pointed his trembling wand at it. “It’s that blasted Red Lion again!”

“Avada K-ke—” Muciber’s stammer was cut short as the Red Lion’s fist smashed into his face, sending him reeling.

“What doesn’t kill you disappoints the rest of us,” the man said.

“Accio wand!” Lily croaked painfully, collapsing back onto the ground when her fingers felt the familiar willow.

Before Avery could open his mouth, the man’s leg had flown into the air, connected with his chest and threw him onto a pile of rubble. He groaned in pain and tried to get up.

“Everte Statum!” The Red Lion’s spell threw him across the platform, where he collapsed wordlessly.

“Evans.” The Red Lion knelt beside her, gently taking her hand. “I need to get you out of here.”

How did he know her name? His shoulders were very broad, the outline of his pecs and biceps unfeasibly sculpted.

“I’m grand. You go ahead and get more of those bastards.” Her voice sounded raw, ragged. She coughed up blood.

“Yeah, you look grand, I can see how exactly how grand you are. Stunningly well, in fact. I’ve been told the priority is you.”

“Feck off,” she muttered, trying to swat his hand away, unsuccessfully, as black spots danced in front of her eyes. “I still have to curse a few more—”

“If by curse you mean mutter insults at them, fine, but otherwise…”

“Listen here, Lion what’s-your-name, I don’t need—”

“Shut up, Evans. You’re my priority. My only priority. The others can wait.”

Before she could reply, he had scrooped her up in his strong arms. She couldn’t help the hiss of pain as she bit her lip.

“The Cruciatus. Any movement or touch is agony. I’ll getting you out of here, and I’m going to heal you.”

She felt like she knew that tone of voice, even though it had clearly been disguised by a Volubilis Potion – it was strong, soothing. She closed her fingers around his cloak, feeling delirious.

“Those arms, where have I seen…?”

She saw Order members apparate around them (fucking finally) as the Red Lion pulled her closer to himself; she felt the warmth of his chest, the heady thrum of his heartbeat, the inward pull of apparition, and everything went dark.

***

The air smelt of disinfectant, wix thyme with juniper; the room spartan, sparse furniture, cold. Perhaps a safe house. The masked figure stood over her, whispered healing spells, stooped in concentration. She was too tired, too weak to do anything but watch, eyes half opened. But, as ever, she noticed things. She noticed he had a cut running down his left thigh, unhealed. She noticed his hands were long. Though the room was dimly lit, she could make out the colour of his eyes – dark limbal grey rings surrounding warm hazel, flecked with gold. She knew those eyes, a vague memory. She couldn’t think clearly, the pain was still there, if less awful. She could see the tiny, pinprick purpuric rash of the Cruciatus covering her entire body. She had never seen it look so inflamed.

She noticed the care with which he pulled back her sleeves, cut through the cotton of her jeans with his wand. She noticed his broad shoulders, the v-shaped back muscles tensing as he moved and shifted his weight, her eyes travelling lower and resting on his well-defined hip contours, his hip dips, his arse…

An image of James, with warm hazel eyes, wearing Sirius Black’s too tight t- shirt, his broad shoulders, stretched across his chest and his biceps, wearing Sirius’ tight black jeans, with a nice ars-

“Ah but Evans, perhaps this Lion stud will seduce you with his- “

“Tight pants?”

“Nice arse?”

Oh. OH.

FUCK.

“James?”

“Hmm?” the figure half-turned, still lost in concentrated attention, wand tip glowing a cool blue flame over her thigh.

“I’m grand, really, you need to get back and make up some excuse to those Deater pals of yours for disappearing, I’ll be fine. I just need to sleep.”

He looked at her, conflicted.

“I don’t…”

“If you can slip back here unnoticed later, or tomorrow, I’d like that, James, but only if it’s completely safe, you understand, right?”

He stiffened, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. It was too late. He sighed, debating whether to deny his identity, then nodded slowly.

“Go to sleep, Evans, I’ll check back in on you later, yeah?”

His hands were holding her left hand as though she were precious.

“It’s Lily, no need to call me Evans,” she winked at him, closing her eyes that felt suddenly heavy with sleep, or tears.

“Lily.” He hovered over her, as though she had just made some terribly important revelation.

“The James Potter I knew wasn’t a Death Eater. My James was too noble for that. We were wrong believing you had changed.”

Her eyes were closed, but she knew what he was thinking, so she smiled.

“My James, my beautiful James,” she said, squeezing his hand carefully. “Come back to me when you’re done. Please.”

“Lily.” His voice wavered and he stopped.

“We can talk later, I promise you, all the time in the world.”

She knew he wouldn’t be able to speak. He bent down and placed a careful kiss on her left hand, featherlight. She could feel the wetness of silent tears.

“Seanleannán liom, mo Rúnsearc,’ she whispered. My old flame, my secret love.

***

He pulled himself away from her eventually, reluctantly, marvelling at the sight before his eyes - Lily Evans lying on the bed, covered in a deep purple rash and the deathly pallor of her skin underneath. He clenched his fists, wishing he could stay. A heating charm, water and towel beside the bed. Her wand beside her, multiple protective wards. He saw the cuts and bruises. She was unable to move, red auburn hair fanning out over the stark white pillow, covered in dust. 

And the joy of the tender smile that never left her face.

But his friends were still out there, battling against Voldemort’s forces and overwhelming odds of twenty to one.

Her smile seared into his heart, knowing his Patronus would never falter again.

***

“That damned anti-apparition spell nearly cost us civilian lives!” Sirius sounded furious as he wordlessly cursed three Death Eaters from behind a pillar.

The three collapsed beside each other, too confused and stunned to even realise what was happening.

“It’s like they knew we would come,” Remus answered, briefly sticking his head out to stupefy a huge wizard who was aiming an AK at Moody.

“Of course they fucking knew! Anyone who thinks we can trust a single syllable that Snape or Potter utter is a fool.” Sirius hit the back of his head against the concrete and groaned in frustration. “The fact that you are all such gullible idiots is infuriating!”

“Look, I know it seems a bit far-fetched,” Remus replied, now engaged in a battle with Evan Rosier and Gordon Wilkes. “But Dumbledore must know what he is doing, he’s –”

“Fuck Dumbledore,” Sirius growled, aiming his wand at a group of four men. “Venenato Aere!”

A transparent spell hit them, exploding into pink and purple confetti clouds.

“Huh, they’re all unconscious? What is it, another one of your originals?” Remus looked at Sirius, impressed.

“Yes. Poisoned air, wrapped up in gay vibes and a bit of Latin. You like it?” Sirius smiled.

Remus rolled his eyes. “Is there anything you can’t do? Of course I’m bloody well impressed, how could I fail to be?”

“Well, you’ve just quietly sent Rosier on a two-week memory lapse and Wilkes won’t be walking anywhere for months,” he pointed out.

“Oh that,” Remus bit the side of his lip, his cheeks somehow appearing more flushed. “Basic DADA.”

“Basic my foot. Mark my words, Moony, you’ll end up DADA professor, or I’ll eat my hat!”

He couldn’t help himself. Anytime he was alone with Remus he found himself flirting. The poor man seemed completely oblivious to this, or possibly completely disinterested, it was hard to tell.

“Uh, hate to break it to you,” Remus replied, pausing momentarily to stun Ludwig Sayre, a pathetic new Voldy recruit. “But you don’t own a hat.”

“Pah! You know what I mean, you tosser. Anyhow, I bought you that Professor Lupin satchel, so you’ve no excuse now. Professor Lupin has quite a ring to it. By the way, I’m quite sure people shan’t be able to keep their hands off you when you get the post, just so you know.”

He watched as Remus turned a bright shade of puce. He always seemed to get so easily flushed for some reason.

“You alright, Moony? Not catching a fever, are you?”

“What? Gods, no,” Remus’ cheeks looked even more flushed, his pupils blown.

“Well, you don’t look… normal, I think you should go home and get some rest, we’ve got things under control now. Seems that damned, elusive Red Lion eliminated a vast chunk of the Deaters before we even got here.”

“Coc oen**,” Remus groaned quietly, running a hand across his brow.

“What?”

“I was talking about myself.”

A blasting spell exploded beside them, causing Remus to jump. Sirius caught hold of him and flung them both in the opposite direction, while conjuring a shield charm around them.

“Fuck me, that was close,” he breathed heavily, suddenly aware how close they were, his arms enclosing Remus.

Remus swallowed. Sirius watched his Adam’s apple move down the column of his throat.

“Here,” he said, handing Remus his extendible hip flask. “Irish whiskey, Evans made me buy it.”

Remus gulped an inordinate amount, eyes watering.

“You alright, Moony?” he asked once again.

“Yeah… thanks,” Remus’ voice sounded hoarse, worse than usual. “You’re a life saver.”

Remus’ mouth was so close to his. It was his turn to swallow.

“Er, jolly good stuff, what? I mean it’s invaluable, really, when we’re faced with…”

“Faced with what?” Remus’ voice was barely a whisper.

He grabbed the flask and threw his neck back, swallowing the entire contents in one go.

“Faced with… that is to say, when I… Remus…”

“This side of the station is cleared of Death Eaters. You can go home.” A masked, lithe figure in jet black landed just beside them, hands in the air, signalling peace. “And what he’s trying to say, and has probably been trying to say, unsuccessfully, for years, is that he’s mad about you.”

The two men stared at him.

“You’re welcome.” The superhero flashed them a smile and disappeared, Sirius staring after him in awe.

“Damned impressive,” Sirius said, feeling suddenly exposed, thrilled, on the cusp of something.

‘Bach o coc oen,’ Remus replied, his voice fond.

“What?”

“Welsh - a little bit of a lamb’s willy, it’s an endearing insult.”

Sirius laughed.

“Are you calling me a knob?”

“A little knob, endearingly.”

“Have I endeared myself to you?” he asked quietly, smiling, as if in jest. It was not a joke. His eyes burned, feverish.

A pause.

“Have you…? Oh, fuck it.” Remus surged forward, lean arms strong as he grabbed a hold of Sirius’ shoulders and kissed him – intense, passionate, frenzied.

***

Today had been a nightmare. Multiple casualties, some seriously injured. He had heard Lily mentioned, later informed that she had disappeared with this pathetic Red Lion, in his arms. He felt nauseated, sick to his core.

Memories flashed before his mind – Lily Evans flirting with Potter in Fifth Year, pulling playfully at his red scarf, as he made her laugh, again, just before he had managed to get that bastard expelled and out of their lives for good. He recalled the wild Marauders, bane of his life, engaged in raucous banter, chasing each other and raising firewhisky glasses in unison. He recalled the quietness of classes after Potter left, the dull emptiness of Black’s eyes, his straight-backed posture rigid, his loneliness. It had made him feel powerful, for once, given him solace. He hated Black nearly as much as Potter. As for Pettigrew, the useless tag-along had drifted from them almost immediately. And as for that monster Lupin, he had gotten more self-conscious, almost invisible, colourless, melting into the background, as though he was in some way to blame for Potter’s expulsion. Ideally, he would have preferred Lupin to go to Azkaban, but seeing him crumble had been satisfying at least.

The fact that Lily hadn’t wanted to rekindle their friendship, despite him apologising for that stupid mudblood incident on numerous occasions, had been soul-destroying – unbelievable, incomprehensible. After everything he had done for her, after she had relied on him so readily at the start of their school careers, after all his hopes and dreams? Of course he had joined the Dark Lord, hadn’t they all, preparing themselves for that life by proving their worth – his prowess in discovering dangerous potions and de novo spells inevitably winning him approval. Finally, someone who valued him as he deserved. He could have kept Lily safe, protected her from harm. But the fool had joined Dubeldore’s gang, along with Black, Lupin, McKinnon and Meadows. He hated them all. At least Mulciber had scared MacDonald into leaving the wix world, he was glad, she had after all supplanted him as Lily’s best friend. Bitch.

But now? Now he could see the way Lily’s eyes travelled over Potter’s body, the way her gaze fell on his lips, the way she gruffly cared for him. The way they all wanted to believe Potter to have turned his back on Voldemort. The way Lupin’s face seemed brighter, the way Black couldn’t help himself, agreeing with everything that bastard Potter said. Like they all hero-worshipped the ground he walked on, despite themselves. The way none of them cared about or believed him to be redeemed. He wasn’t at all repentant about joining the Death Eaters, except in as much as Lily had become a specific target.

He had to save her. And to save her from making a terrible mistake. And stop Potter from ruining his life, and everything he had managed to achieve.

And now here were those two disgusting bastards – Black and Lupin – snogging each other breathlessly, senselessly, happier than he had ever seen them.

No. He would stop it all. He would ruin everything, ruin them, ruin all the Marauders and save his Lily from them, if it was the last thing he did.

Notes

*IRA - Irish Republican Army (terrorist grouping active in marauders era muggle UK)
** Welsh insult - the first means ‘lamb’s Willy’ (ie tiny knob, derogatory); the second time it means ‘sort of lamb’s Willy’ (ie sort of tiny knob, more joking/fond insult) 

PS my Lily is always Irish - there really are specific words for love meaning old flame/old love and secret love in Irish - so romantic imo