The Lady of (New) Avalon

Technically, the story starts when I was seven years old — when I, being a child, and excited about participating in my first real ritual, broke The Rules, telling my little brother all about it. He was too young to be trusted not to speak of it out of turn. (As too was I, obviously. I was old enough to be expected to know better, though.)

My father, being the exceptionally stable and well-balanced individual that he was, flew off the handle, as one does. If Bella hadn’t intervened, he might not have killed me. But it’s entirely possible that he might have. I suppose I could ask Asphodel, but I don’t really care enough to do so. As things went, Bella did her duty, stepping in to fight him on my behalf, and when our Head of House called a furious stop to their duel he took a Parthian shot at me, probably to hurt her — Bella herself was always invincible, like a hero out of legend.

That would have killed me.

But, like a hero out of legend, she saved me, calling on the Dark to burn his curse from my soul. But there’s always a price for every action. Consequences. My magic was as dark as hers, or that of anyone else in the House, but I was a small child, my body and soul hardly prepared to withstand such an assault. From that day on, it hurt to cast dark magic. 

And from that day on, as my family continued to insist that I do so anyway, following the traditions of the House, I grew to hate them. As I began to grow old enough to make choices for myself, I always took the path which seemed most likely to lead me away from them; and the more obvious it was that I wanted nothing to do with them, the more deeply they dug their claws into me.

After nine years of torture and resolute refusal to allow me to leave, I had had enough. I broke the Covenant, realigned my magic to serve the Light, and left them for good...or so I intended at the time.

In reality, it was a matter of mere months before circumstances aligned — entirely coincidentally, I’m sure — to force me back into their arms, or at least Bella’s. (And when it comes down to it, Bella is the House of Black, really.) This is where the story really starts: the Twenty-Ninth of August, Nineteen Seventy-Six.

The Gryffindor House Back-to-School Party was an event not to be missed.

For most, it was a celebration — meeting up with friends again after long months apart, with stories to tell and gifts from vacations, and reunions with boyfriends and girlfriends of whom one’s parents did not approve. It was a last hurrah before classes began, and the dry spell that would last for the next two months, until Quidditch started up again and they celebrated or mourned the outcome of the first match of the season. As soon as Minnie said her piece and the new firsties were safely tucked away in their dorms, firewhisky flowed freely, courtesy of Wormtail’s Hogsmeade smuggling operation; Sirius and James sweet-talked the kitchen elves into sending up all the leftovers from dessert; and Remus pulled the new prefects aside to discuss the advantages of turning a blind eye, just for one night. Couples who hadn’t seen each other for weeks pulled each other into corners and armchairs before the fire, making up for lost time, and someone started passing around cannabis and dragonsbreath and a damn good quality bottle of Wyrm and an envelope of muggle acid — that shite that made you hear colors (never again) — along with the usual cigarettes, and some new “happy pills” to get you high.

For Sirius, it was like coming home. He had spent the last month of the holiday with the Potters, and had no intention of returning to Grimmauld Place, ever. His former parents and Arcturus seemed to be completely on-board with that plan of action. Charlus and Dorea had received a very formal letter from Arcturus, informing them that he would not contest their custody of Dorea’s godson; that Regulus was the new Heir of Black; and that Sirius personally was disinherited and disowned by his parents, though not the Black family. If he wanted to redeem himself in the eyes of his Paterfamilias, all he had to do was marry a pureblood witch and have a nice little pureblood baby to carry on the name — his children could claim his cadet allowance when they came of age.

He had burned the letter after a single read-through. Declaring for the Light and breaking the Family Covenant with the Dark had been intended to burn his bridges with them entirely. His first act as a free man, once he got over the combined effects of the ritual and Walburga’s Cruciatus (which hurt, but nothing like as bad as Bella’s), was to send letters to his Uncle Alphard (who was similarly disinherited) and Andromeda, wherever she might be, to inform them that he had joined them in exile. Alphard had been fairly reserved in his response, obviously torn between congratulating Sirius for taking a stand against his parents’ demands and reprimanding him for breaking the Covenant. (Though not too harshly, because everyone could see that the House of Black had been run into the ground by Arcturus and Cygnus and Orion, and even Alphard himself, through his negligence, long before Sirius had done anything.) He hadn’t heard back from Meda yet, but she was officially his favorite cousin now anyway.

Dorea had sent a scathing response back to Arcturus, informing him that if he had contested her custody of Sirius, she was fully prepared to have argued his incompetence as a guardian and as a Head of House before the entire Wizengamot, and that if Regulus ever wanted to abandon the sinking ship that was the House of Black she would gladly do the same for him. Charlus had added that they would be asking their allies to dissolve all business arrangements with the House of Black, because they could not be associated with any family that condoned the use of Unforgivable curses on its own children.

Sirius had never felt so loved in his life.

The last month of the summer was the best he’d ever had. Remus and Peter came to join them at the Potter estate, and they spent two weeks exploring fields and forests and nearby muggle towns, flirting with muggle girls and acquiring Sirius’ new favorite thing: a motorbike. He had big plans for that bike. His NE Runes project was going to be enchanting it to fly. He’d never been happier. Quite frankly, he wished he had run away years ago.

And now he was back at Hogwarts, where he belonged, with all his friends — only sixth-years, but they were already kings of the castle — and there was a party, and he was so high (for future reference, Wyrm or happy pills, not both), and a bit drunk, and Marley McKinnon was shirtless and giggling on his lap, their row last spring seeming very far away, and— Was that Evans dancing on a coffee table with Ellie Adams and Cat Zuthe?

Bloody hell! It was! They were doing some sort of sexy strip-tease thing, with the light of the fire behind them and— Where was James? He was missing it!

Sirius looked around, but he was distracted as Marley snogged him forcefully, before she was dragged away by her roommate, Mary, and then Evans was in front of him, straddling him, sitting on his knees in her short, short muggle skirt, bare tits in his face, smelling like strawberries and sweat and three kinds of smoke, and grinning like the two of them were in on some great cosmic joke that the rest of the world wasn’t allowed to know about.

It was hard to remember why he didn’t like her when she let her hair down and removed the stick from her arse and acted like that instead of her usual sly, stuck-up, prissy prefect self.

She leaned in close and whispered, “Do you want me, Sirius?” Her lips were so close that he could feel them against his ear, and then she started nibbling at his neck, and Ellie and Cat were still on the table, soft limbs wrapped around each other, Cat’s dark hands in Ellie’s blonde hair, and Evans was rocking her hips against his saying, “I think you do,” with a smile like a siren song — fuck me, fuck the world, fuck it all and let it burn.

“Where’s James?” he asked, the words only a little slurred.

She kissed him, and he tasted whisky before she pulled away with an innocent shrug, so at odds with that kiss and those eyes and the mischief in her tone. “Not here.”

Almost everyone was asleep or passed out, or else completely occupied by their own trips or each other. James’ distinctive, messy hair was nowhere to be seen, nor Remus’ disapproving glare. He thought that might have been Pete, passed out by the fire with Mary and Marley, but it was hard to tell from this angle, and he really didn’t care.

“I can’t — you— Jamie...”

She ignored his weak protests, wrapping strong fingers in his hair and twisting just enough to make his cock twitch, forcing her tongue into his mouth, and biting his lower lip hard enough that he tasted blood. “Fuck James Potter!” she said, coming up for air. Fuck me, fuck the world. “I’m not his fucking property, you know,” she whispered in one ear. She kissed him again, more gently, moving to the other, and added, “And neither are you.” Another kiss, a brush of teeth against his already swollen lip, and her hips were moving again, and he’d probably regret it in the morning, but when she asked again, “Do you want me, Sirius?” grinning like nothing matters, fuck it all, he flipped them so that he was on top and snogged her back, like setting his life on fire and dancing in the flames as the whole world burned to ashes all around him.

He didn’t know how his trousers and her knickers made it to the floor, didn’t know how long they moved together, couldn’t remember if they used a contraceptive charm, and couldn’t care less if they’d put on a show for the entire common room. The world faded out in a haze of sex and drugs, as the sky outside started to grow light and some Irish muggle album on the turntable played: guess who just got back today, them wild-eyed boys that'd been away...

He woke up gasping and confused, with someone pinching his nose, after what had to have been only a couple of hours. Remus was looking down at him like he had done something irreparably fucked up.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” he whisper-yelled.

“Uhh...”

“Lily Evans, Sirius! You couldn’t’ve hooked up with any other girl?!”

That was the point when Sirius looked down and realized that he had, in fact, done something irreparably fucked up. He scrambled free of her arms and the couch, yanking his trousers back on as quickly as he could.

Evans groaned as she was forced to roll over, winced at the light and the sight of her fellow prefect’s judging eyes, and grumbled something about Molly and bad life choices. “Are there any more hangover potions in the stash?” she asked Remus, trying to brush her hair out of her face and cover her tits.

There were fingerprint bruises on her arms and hips, and love-bites on her breasts and neck. Oops. He assumed he looked just as bad, or Remus would have been telling him off about being too rough or offering her sympathy or something. Instead he was answering her question coldly: “Most people aren’t up yet.”

“Ugh, take a chill pill, Remus!” she complained, fetching her blouse from a lamp by the fire.

“I will not take a chill pill! Thanks to you I had to take a fucking Sober-up to deal with fucking James Potter drunk off his arse and moaning about how you and Sirius betrayed him for the last three hours!”

Sirius’ blood ran cold. “James? Is he okay?”

“We came back from a resupply run and found you two curled up here on the couch. What do you think? He spelled himself into the bathroom with a half-fifth of whisky and I haven’t had time to break down his wards, what with being a little busy being the only semi-responsible person in the tower, apparently,” he added, the last comment clearly directed toward Evans.

“Oh, no, don’t you dare blame this on me, Remus Lupin! I get one night a year off from babysitting all your drunk arses. You and Paul and Felicia agreed to take care of shite last night if I took the lead on the end of year party! It was your fucking idea, in case you forgot!”

“I didn’t think you were going to get high and bang Sirius!”

“What, you think I planned that?! You’re as paranoid as he is!”

“I’m not paranoid!” Sirius snapped, trying to decide if it would do more damage to go break down Jamie’s wards on the bathroom and apologise, or if he would be even angrier to see Sirius so soon. “Seriously, though, Remy, I wouldn’t put it past her...”

“Oh, shut up,” Evans sneered, an expression that wouldn’t have looked out of place on her greasy-haired, wanna-be Death Eater ex. “Remus, I’m going to get a potion and a shower, and if you’ve pulled your head out of your arse by the time I get back, I might help clean up.” She stalked off before either of the boys could respond.

The werewolf’s furious glare turned to him, instead.

“Remus, she came on to me — you have to believe me, mate!”

The taller boy growled under his breath. “Sirius, I don’t give a fuck which one of you started it! The only reason I care is that I don’t want to get caught in the middle of you and James having a fucking row over a girl who doesn’t even like either of you.”

“I don’t like her either! Fuck! What the fuck do I say to James?”

“Do I look like I know? You’d better think of something though, and go break into the bathroom so I can get Pete into the showers. I think Mary threw up on him, and I do not have the focus right now to vanish that shit.”

Sirius groaned, but started trudging toward the stairs. At least that settled the question of whether he should wait or try to apologize immediately.

Two weeks later, after Sirius skipped three days of classes in a row, lying in bed with the curtains sealed because he couldn’t stand seeing James anymore and how he had fucked up fucking everything, Peter decided he had had enough. After everyone else left for class, he ripped Sirius’ curtains completely down, stripped the blankets off the bed and levitated Sirius into the shower by his ankle. He sputtered under the cold spray as Peter shouted at him.

“You haven’t been to a meal in a week, Siri! Did you even get out of bed yesterday? We’re worried about you! You missed Runes twice! I told everyone you had some intestinal shite and couldn’t leave the loo, but if you’re not back in class by Monday, Pomfrey is going to come track you down!”

“Go away, Pete,” he moaned. “Let me down and go away.”

Pete dropped him on his head, still under the cold water, still shouting. “I will not go away! Remus keeps saying to give you your space, but it’s obvious you’re getting worse, not better, so obviously that’s not working.”

“You don’t understand!” he moaned, righting himself clumsily.

“What I understand is that you fucked Evans, had a row with Jamie, and fucking dove head first off the deep end! Not eating! Skipping classes! Skipping Quidditch trials?! When was the last time you bathed? You smell like a fucking dog! You need to get your shite together!”

“I fucked up everything, Pete,” he mumbled. “Fucking everything.” Fuck, he was crying. Sitting in a cold shower crying while Peter Pettigrew told him to get his shite together. Like it was that fucking easy.

“What the bloody fuck are you on about, you mad cunt? You are, currently, at this very moment, fucking up everything! Three days of classes, Sirius! It’s only a matter of time until someone tells McGee and they drag you off to St Mungo’s! Jesus Christ! What the fuck are you thinking? Are you thinking?” He chucked a potions vial at Sirius. “Drink that and wash your goddamn hair — you look like fucking Snivelly!”

He sniffed at the vial, heedless of the fact that he was letting water drip into it, then capped it and set it aside. “I don’t need it,” he said petulantly. “I’m fine. Just leave me alone.”

Pete snorted. “Yeah, totally fine. When was the last time you ate? I bet you don’t even remember. Drink the goddamn nutrient potion or I’ll knock you out and dump it down your unconscious throat you stubborn son of a bitch!”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed, trying to stand and brush past his smaller friend, but he got dizzy and slumped back under the water.

The next thing he knew, he was waking up in the Hospital wing.

“Doesn’t look like he’s been keeping much down, the poor dear,” Pomfrey was saying to a concerned-looking Pete. “Low blood sugar, you know. You were right to bring him in. This is why I’m always wary of those ‘intestinal bugs’ — it was an emetic curse, and a right strong one too, if it’s lasted this long. Well, we’ll have him right as rain in a jiff now we’ve got to the core of the problem. Just a mo’...”

She bustled off down the ward as a girl came in covered in some kind of green slime.

“What the hell, Pete?” he hissed.

“You did this to yourself, Siri! I’m done covering for you! I have to get to class. I’ll come back after dinner.”

Peter did come back after dinner, and brought Remus, too, but that left plenty of time for Sirius to think and pick despondently at the plates Pomfrey kept setting in front of him and ignore her fussing over possible lingering traces of the emetic curse Pete had used to cover up the fact that he hadn’t been ill. There weren’t any, he just wasn’t hungry. Watching the events of the first week of school play over and over behind his eyes, seeing everything going wrong, again and again, made him so miserable he didn’t want to eat.

It had been bad.

James had still been drunk when Sirius broke into the bathroom on Sunday morning. Sirius had tried to apologize — said he didn’t mean it, that he didn’t want her, blamed it on the drugs and the alcohol, told James that Evans had come on to him — but James had repeated over and over that Sirius was the worst fucking excuse for a friend, and it had to’ve been Sirius’s fault, because Lily hated him just as much as James, and Sirius had to’ve been planning this all along, gotten her drunk and suggestible and waited until he and Remus were gone. Sirius had stood there and took it, until James slurred something about this being the thanks he got for inviting Sirius into his home and he should just get the fuck out.

That one hurt, probably more than all the rest of it combined. He knew James was drunk and angry, but, well... Drunk words are sober thoughts, and James never had been very good at sharing. It didn’t really surprise him that his best friend secretly resented his coming to crash with the Potters permanently. It did surprise him that he would throw five years of friendship out the window over one, stupid, drunken mistake. To be honest, he'd thought that after James had time to cool down and Sirius apologized again, it would all blow over.

It didn’t.

The first week back had been all "get lost, Sirius," and "you should have known better, Sirius," and "I don’t want to talk to you, Sirius." By the following weekend, when James told him not to bother showing up on Wednesday for their monthly rendezvous at the Shack, it'd started to sink in that this, like everything involving Lily Fucking Evans, was something that James was not capable of being reasonable about.

In one fell swoop, the red-headed bitch had managed not only to drive a wedge between himself and his best friend, but his brother in all but name and — yes, he was about 90% certain now — the man he loved.

He hadn’t been back to the Great Hall since he realized it, because going back to that place reminded him of that moment, and made him feel outright sick.

It wasn’t that they were both blokes — he’d had plenty of wizards, not a problem in the least — or that they were like brothers. Gods and Powers! It would have been less awkward to fall in love with his actual brother! At least he didn’t have to see Reggie every day, didn’t have to try to sleep lying three feet away from him and knowing that he hated him. Fuck! He hardly knew Reggie anymore — hadn’t spoken to him, really, in years. He would be a much more appropriate crush than his best friend!

No, the problem was that James wouldn’t even look at him!

And the worst part was, he hadn't even fucking realized that he wanted him until he went off on Evans in the Great Hall on Sunday, and she'd slapped him and hissed, “This is for the lakeside,” and stalked off and James went to her — to her — and was all, "are you okay?" and "ignore Sirius, he’s a dick." She'd smirked at him like, Yes, I knew exactly what I was doing, and walked away with Jamie trailing after her, and he just felt so overwhelmingly jealous that James was with her and not with him—

And that was when he'd realized: it wasn’t just that she was a stuck-up, manipulative slut who inexplicably reminded him of Narcissa and somehow managed to have the entire fucking school wrapped around her little finger. He hated her because he wanted James to himself.

He was jealous of Lily Fucking Evans, because she had James Potter’s eye — because she could afford to spurn him at every turn, and he would still go chasing after her, when he wouldn’t even acknowledge Sirius’ existence in class!

And Sirius actually cared.

He had never felt this way about anyone.

It was a revelation.

If he'd had it at any other time, he would have been thrilled.

Well, maybe not thrilled. He might have felt like an idiot for not figuring it out sooner. He might have felt awkward, falling in love with his best friend, who was head over heels for a bitch who wouldn’t even give him the time of day. He might have been a nervous wreck because James had never showed any sign that he was even open to the idea of other guys — had, in fact, been slightly uncomfortable with the idea every time it had come up over the past five years. But he was pretty sure he wouldn’t have been fucking miserable because he'd fucked it all up before he even knew there was anything to fuck up. Because he definitely had — Jamie apparently hated him, now. He kept giving Sirius the sort of looks that he used to give Snivellus, like he was some sort of fucking competition for Evans’ affections.

Not that she, in fact, had affections, seeing as she was clearly some sort of selfish demonic entity incapable of human emotion outside of manipulating everyone and everything around her. Remus had said it was no wonder she slapped him after saying that to her face, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true. That was probably the thing about her that reminded him of Narcissa — except he'd grown up with Narcissa and knew her weaknesses, while Evans didn’t really appear to have any.

Well, except Snivellus.

For the lakeside. Ha! He would have been willing to bet anything that she knew about the shite he'd been pulling on them all year — that Polyjuice stunt, for one! He was sure it wasn’t a coincidence that, six of the eight times, she was the one who'd caught them hexing the fake firstie. She had to be in on it! Snivels had deserved every second of humiliation they had doled out!

And he was almost positive that they were still friends, just pretending they weren’t. He'd followed her while everyone else was at dinner on Monday, wanting to have it out with her, but she locked herself in a room on the seventh floor behind some kind of anti-eavesdropping charm, and he had been curious enough to stick around to see who she was meeting up with after she left — none other than the greasy dungeon bat himself! And they still sat together in Slughorn’s class. Yes, there was a seating chart, but the fat old git liked both of them well enough that if they had asked to be separated he would’ve done it.

James wouldn’t listen when he tried to tell them later that she was sneaking around. He just kept right on talking to Remus about their plans for the night of the full moon, like Sirius wasn’t even there. He'd decided that it wasn’t worth it to get out of bed on Tuesday — he had already been told he wasn’t wanted on their monthly Marauder romp, and now it was like James was determined to pretend he didn’t even exist. He'd stayed there on Wednesday, too, telling Peter to cover for him because he wasn’t feeling up to class. On Thursday, he'd told Remus to ask James why he hadn’t come out with the others the night before, and sealed the curtains to make it easier to ignore the prefect’s whining.

He’d heard Pete being concerned about him Thursday night, and Remus saying that he’d get up and come downstairs when he was hungry, and Pete pointing out that he hadn’t been to the Great Hall since Sunday. James had said shirtily that he’d probably been having an elf bring him meals or going straight to the kitchens, and that he, Sirius, was just trying to manipulate them for attention, before he stormed out. Davey Gudgeon said something about telling Minnie, and Remus said to just leave him alone.

Apparently, though, Pete didn’t agree with that particular tactic.

So now, here he was, in the Hospital Wing, with Madam Pomfrey breathing down his neck about fucking food, and dehydration, and whether he had any idea who might have done this to him, in only the second week of term — and of course he told her he suspected Snivelly, pro forma, but Pete’s words kept echoing around his head: “You did this to yourself, Siri!”

Because he hadn’t done this to himself. Lily Fucking Evans had done this to him. Perfect Prefect Evans, golden girl muggleborn extraordinaire, had completely fucking outmaneuvered him, and he hadn’t even seen it coming.

And then it came to him: the way to get back in James’ good graces and make Evans suffer all at once.

It was so simple. He didn’t know how he hadn’t seen it before.

All he had to do was find some way to get rid of Snape!

It was perfect!

He would be able to show James that he — Sirius — was still on James’ side — that he was helping with the wooing of the Evans bitch, getting rid of James’s actual rival once and for all! It wasn’t like she was actually going to go for James, anyway. He’d figure that out eventually. If he didn’t, well...one thing at a time. Once James was speaking to Sirius again, he was sure he could convince him of it.

And as for Evans, well, she had taken his best friend from him, so he would take hers from her — tit for fucking tat, right?

Perfect!

Now all he had to do was work out the details.

Two weeks later he was ready. James was still pretending that he didn’t exist, but having a goal, a plan to win him back, at least as a friend, had given him the confidence to shrug off the pain of being fucking ignored with something close to his old devil-may-care attitude.

“Are you sure about this?” Pete asked, threading his way through the stacks.

“Yes! He’ll look like he was trying to break into the Shack, he’ll get expelled for sure! Where is he?”

Peter consulted the half-completed map in his hand. It showed all the locations of the people in the castle, thanks to Remy tricking Evans into helping him tap into the school wards, and the library and the Great Hall, their dorm, the Gryffindor commons and most of the broom cupboards, thanks to Peter’s brilliant idea to get around unplottability by layering a tracking spell into a shield spell, and turning the whole thing into a runic enchantment that could be cast to create a detectable shell inside the unplottable wards. Mr Wormtail couldn’t cast for shit, but he was a hell of a theorist. Now all they had to do was find a way to deal with the moving staircases and passages. If they made the “map-mark” self-replicating or integrated it into the wards of the castle, it could even spread through the parts of the Castle they couldn’t get into, like the Slytherin dorms, but both of those options were easier said than done.

In the meanwhile, though, the Map did show that ‘Severus Snape’ was located, unmoving, about ten meters north-northwest from their current position. Pete pointed.

“You remember the plan?”

The plan was fairly simple, for all it had taken ages to figure out exactly the right details. Snivellus would need a reason to try to get through the wards on the Shack. Those wards were meant to keep humans out (except Remus, who was specifically keyed in), and Dark Creatures in. Madam Pomfrey or Minnie added a paling every night of the moon so that Remus couldn’t leave after they escorted him in but before the moon rose, and then they left. The paling expired at moonset or sunrise, whichever happened first, and Remus made his way back through the tunnel unless he was too injured to do so, which hadn’t happened since they'd started keeping him company a couple months before their OWLs. They could slip right in in their animal forms, but there was no way Snivels would be able to do so.

He would give up after a while, but the stubborn git would definitely keep after it long enough for Sirius to tip off Minnie that he had seen the Slytherin lurking around the Whomping Willow: I heard he’s been asking questions about it, claiming he saw Remus and Madam Pomfrey head out there, too — absurd, of course, isn’t it? I mean, why would Remus and Madam Pomfrey be out by the Whomping Willow? But, well... Anyway, Professor, I think Snape must’ve done something to the tree — it didn’t seem to be moving, and then he just disappeared...

Snivellus would be caught well out of bounds, trying to break into an obviously secured area…

They just needed the right lure to get him there. He knew that the Slytherin knew that they had a supplier for alcohol and assorted other useful things from Hogsmeade. He knew that Snivels had more or less deduced that Peter was in charge of it. Thinking that he was going to get Sirius in trouble for being behind it all would probably be too good for him to resist. Being a Slytherin, Sirius figured the dungeon bat was much more likely to go poking around himself in the hopes of getting something blackmail-worthy on Sirius than to just tell a professor. If he took a few of his closest Death Eater friends along with him, so much the better. Even if he did tell a professor, he’d look like an idiot when it became clear there was no smuggling ring operating out of the Shrieking Shack — that business went down exclusively in the Honeydukes basement — and Sirius could work on finding some other way to get him chucked out.

“Yes, Siri! I remember the goddamn plan!”

“All right, then let’s go.”

They drifted closer to Snivellus’ corner, striking up a whispered conversation when Sirius judged that they were in range.

“Please, Sirius — you have to go! I’m going to fail the Transfiguration exam if I don’t study, and someone has to meet him! I’ve already placed the order! If we don’t show up with the money, fat chance we’ll ever get another delivery!”

“Why can’t James do it, or Remus?”

“Keep your voice down, damn it! James already agreed to help me study, and you know how Remus feels about being a prefect — he needs his plausible deniability about where that sort of stuff comes from.” Pete sounded genuinely irritated.

Sirius groaned. “I had plans, Pete!”

“Reschedule! Unless you want to completely screw us over for the First Match party. It’s next week or never.”

“Fine. Fine. Ryan’s a bitch anyway. What do I need to do?”

“We’re supposed to meet at the Shrieking Shack at seven-thirty on Friday the eighth. If you leave right after dinner, you should get there in plenty of time.”

“Why the fuck would you choose to meet at the Shrieking Shack, of all places?”

“No! That’s the clever part, see? There’s this tunnel that goes straight there. He told me about it. You just have to poke that big knot on the Whomping Willow with a stick or something, and it opens up a passage between the roots. The limbs freeze and you just walk straight in — no worries about getting caught halfway back, no one keeping watch for contraband coming in, it’s perfect.”

Sirius sighed. “Fine. Seven-thirty?”

“It takes like fifteen, twenty minutes, maybe, to walk there. Just go right after dinner. I’ll cover for you.”

“Alright. I’ll do it.”

“Thanks, mate.”

They made their unhurried way back toward the main study area, doing their best to look legitimately inconspicuous. Snivellus oozed out of the library a few minutes later, and they shared a high-five under the table.

Sirius left dinner early on the night of the full moon. He needed to stake out the Willow to make sure the Slytherin actually went into the tunnel before running to tip off Minnie. Pete found him just after seven, sprouting up from his animagus form and instantly complaining that he hadn’t been able to find James anywhere, so they’d just have to intercept him here. The plan would hardly work if James alerted the target before he could be intercepted.

They were doing impressions of Snape trying to poke the knot without getting whomped when Prongs pranced out of the trees.

“Pete? I’ve been looking everywhere for you. And what is he doing here?”

“Well I’ve been waiting for you, we have to wait,” Peter explained. “Siri sent Snivels down to get caught trying to break in — we’re going to tip of McGonagall and finally get him expelled!”

James’ eyes grew wide. “You did what?!” he addressed Sirius directly for the first time in weeks.

“I’m on your side, Jamie! I don’t know how else to prove it to you!”

“Remus and I finished putting in that ward gate last night so that I don’t have to transform in the fucking tunnel!”

It was always a chore for Prongs to get through the door at the other end of the tunnel, what with the enormous antlers and deer not being made for crouching at all. He had been talking about punching an undetectable hole in the anti-human ward since the very first time they'd sneaked in, but he definitely hadn’t mentioned that they’d actually done it. Well, he hadn’t mentioned anything to Sirius all month, but apparently he hadn’t told Pete either, because he echoed, “You did what?!”

Sirius couldn’t help but snigger. “So Snivels is just going to walk straight into the Shack with a transformed werewolf? Brill. Well done, James. I had just meant to get him expelled, but dead works too.”

“No, it doesn’t! They’ll find the ward gate—” Pete started, but James cut him off: “And Remus! With a dead body! Remus would be a murderer! Are you fucking insane?!”

“I—”

“No! Don’t answer that! I’m going to stop him — Pete, go get McGee now!”

Pete turned and ran back toward the school, as James banished a rock into the knot and skidded into the tunnel. Sirius stood, frozen, staring after James for a long moment before turning to follow Peter up to the castle at a much less hurried pace. If Jamie wanted to save his rival’s life, well then, he was on his own. Sirius had gone to a serious amount of effort to take care of the git for him, and this was the thanks he got? Talk about ungrateful, running in and ruining the Plan.

Sirius wouldn’t stop him, but he certainly wasn’t going to try to help.

It wasn’t like James would be in any danger from Remus, and honestly, he didn’t see what was so wrong with letting Snape walk in and get himself killed anyway. Remus was right where he was supposed to be — it wasn’t like he would have done anything worth being punished for, even if he did maul the dungeon bat. And they could pin the ward gate on Snape: Oh, he must have been working on getting in there for ages... Must’ve really thought there was something worth finding on the other side... Can’t imagine what he thought it was. It’d be his word and Jamie’s and Pete’s against a dead, greasy Slytherin weirdo — even the other Snakes didn’t like him, and everyone knew it was only a matter of time until he fell in with the Death Eaters. A little lying, a tragic accident, and the Snape Problem would be solved, no one’s fault but his own. Easy as pie.

Oh! Unless he lived... Maybe he ought to go back after all and finish him off, just in case. Padfoot’s jaws were about the same size as Moony’s. If he ripped out Snape’s throat and threw an Eternal Wound Curse over the marks, they’d read as werewolf bites, and that was if anyone even looked into it — after all, werewolf plus dead, mangled body is pretty easy arithmancy. The idea of having any part of Snape in his mouth, even as Padfoot, was disgusting, and it would hurt to cast the curse, because it was dark as fuck, but he would do it if he had to.

But no, Jamie had already run off to play hero, so that wasn’t even an option anymore, and he was almost back up to the school anyway.

Pete had run the whole way, and though he was far less fit than any of the other Marauders he was fast when he wanted to be. He and Minnie were making their way onto the grounds just as he arrived at the nearest door.

Minnie was talking very quickly, though she froze for a half-second when she saw him, her face turning murderous. “Mr. Black! You will report directly to the Headmaster’s office at once. Mr. Pettigrew, accompany him! You are not to make any detours — and don’t you even think about trying to do otherwise, the portraits will be keeping an eye on you!”

“Jeez, yeah, fine, Minnie — Dumbles’ office. Password still Chocolate Frog?”

“Ooh, you have a lot of nerve, me laddie! Get going!” She transformed into her animagus form and sprinted away across the lawns toward the Willow.

“What the hell is her problem?”

Pete just shook his head, looking at Sirius like he was a stranger or something. “Come on,” he said, leading the way back up into the school.

Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk when they stepped through the door at the top of his staircase, as he always had been every time Sirius had gotten caught doing something spectacular enough that Minnie decided it warranted the Headmaster’s intervention.

“Ah,” he said, in that grandfatherly way that Sirius had come to appreciate over the years, though he didn’t quite trust it. “Sirius, Peter. What brings you to my humble office this evening, my boys?”

He just shrugged, while Pete said, “Professor McGonagall sent us up, sir.”

“I see...” His eyes twinkled, and there was a brush of legilimency against Sirius’s mind — the reason he didn’t entirely trust the grandfatherly façade. He batted it away, raising an eyebrow at the Headmaster. He really shouldn’t do that to anyone, especially anyone raised by the Old Families. Peter stiffened beside him as he repelled his own probe. Sirius was impressed, not for the first time, at how well he'd taken to occlumency, considering he had only started learning about three years before and they mostly had to practise with boggarts, since the only legilimens they knew were Snape and Dumbledore. Sirius and James had been taught when they were very young — and Remus too, to control his emotions around the full moon — but Peter hadn’t heard of it until they began the animagus project. Being able to hide their pranking exploits more effectively was really just a bonus.

“Well, we’ll just wait and see when she gets here, I suppose,” Dumbledore continued, as though he hadn’t just tried to legilimise them. “Dew drop?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Sirius said cheerfully, helping himself to a hard candy, alongside Pete. They had a bit of Lemon Soother aftertaste, but it wasn’t like they were harmful, and he had a suspicion that he’d need the calming potion to deal with Jamie when Minnie finally dragged him in as well, the prat.

Dumbledore returned to whatever he was writing. Sirius kicked his heels against the legs of his chair. Pete must have been nervous, because he was mainlining the fucking candies. He was on his fifth when Minnie showed up, with both Jamie and a sadly unharmed Snivellus. Looked like he was back to the drawing board on that one.

Dumbledore greeted them and conjured more chairs, offering dew drops to all before he settled back in his chair. “So, Minerva, what seems to be the problem?”

“These...students know about Mr. Lupin’s...condition.”

“I would be surprised if they did not,” the Headmaster said tranquilly. “They are his friends, after all.”

“I’m no friend of theirs,” Snivels inserted.

Dumbledore nodded at him. “With the notable exception of Mr. Snape.”

“They tried to kill me,” ‘Mr. Snape’ spat.

“Oh, come off it, Snivellus! It was just a bit of a prank!”

“I suppose you thought it was funny, telling him to prod that knot and see if he’d walk straight into a werewolf’s safehouse?!” Minnie nearly shouted.

Well, kind of, especially since he’d thought there would be wards in place to keep him out, but he knew that tone — it would be best not to try to defend himself at the moment. “Erm...no?”

“’No,’ he says — ‘no,’ it’s not funny to try to kill your fellow students? I’m so glad we’ve got that cleared up — after you got caught! Tell me, were you planning to let Mr. Lupin take the blame for the murder?!”

“What? I only meant for him to have a bit of a scare, maybe get expelled for being out of bounds!”

“That’s not what Mr. Pettigrew told me earlier,” she fixed Peter with a gimlet stare.

“That’s not what happened! He was in on it!”

With both Sirius and Minnie glaring at him, Peter cracked. “You said dead was just as good as expelled, Siri!”

“I can’t believe you sold me out!”

“You need help, Sirius!”

Snivellus snorted.

“You shut up, you greasy git! No one asked you!”

“Seeing as I was very nearly lured to my death earlier this evening, I think I shall feel free to volunteer my opinions tonight...Black.”

“Pete’s right, Sirius, it’s like I don’t even know you anymore,” James butted in.

“I– you— I did this for you!” Sirius raged. “He’s still seeing Evans! You should’ve just let him die! He’d’ve been out of the way and then you could go back to trying to win her over, and everything would be like it used to be!”

“Sounds like a confession to me,” the Slytherin git glared.

“Oh, please! If I wanted you dead, you’d’ve been dead years ago!”

“Mr. Black!” Minnie interrupted, “You will hold your tongue!”

“He’s a fucking Death Eater!” Sirius ignored her.

The Slytherin scum slid his left sleeve up and flashed his sallow forearm at the Headmaster before giving Sirius a two-fingered salute. “I’m not the one whose favorite cousin is shacking up with the Dark Lord!”

Sirius ignored him as well. “AND he was only down there in the first place because he was trying to get us in trouble!”

“I rather doubt you are so concerned about Mr. Lupin’s safety and well-being, seeing as you nearly made him a murderer this evening, Mr. Black!”

“We all know there were wards! He shouldn’t have been able to get in!”

“And that explains why your former best mate thought it necessary to chase me down, body-bind me, and drag me away from a fully-transformed werewolf? Pull the other one, Black!”

“Mr. Snape!” Minnie began, but the git cut her off.

“He’s already admitted he would have seen me dead, professor! He intended to have me die in a tragic ‘accident’ — if Lupin hadn’t killed me, would you’ve gone back and finished me off yourself?” He must have looked briefly guilty, because the Slytherin sneered. “That’s what I thought! Admit it! You’re just like the rest of your family, Black!”

“I am not! I’m nothing like them! I didn’t— I did it for you, James! Peter, tell them!”

Peter shrank into his chair as James denounced him. “I never asked you to— Why? Why would you possibly think I wanted...? Sirius, Pete’s right, you need help — you haven’t been right since we came back to school, maybe before. Maybe we should’ve listened to Mum when she said we ought to take you to a mind-healer after you escaped. There could be complusions or, or—”

“I don’t need a bloody mind-healer! I’m not mad!”

“So sayeth the would-be murderer!”

“Shut up, Snivels! This isn’t about you!”

“My murder isn’t about me?! You—”

Dumbledore cleared his throat and cast some sort of silent silencing charm on all of them. It was much harder to break than the simple tacitus Bella used in lessons. Sirius struggled fruitlessly against it as the old man said, “Peter, would you be so kind as to repeat for me exactly what you told Professor McGonagall?”

All eyes turned to Peter, Sirius’s glaring impotently.

Peter looked around the circle of chairs nervously before he admitted, “Sirius and I said, where we knew Snape would overhear, that if he went down the passage under the Willow, he’d find his way out to the Shack, and how to get in. We made it sound like one of us would be there doing something illegal so he would think he could get us in trouble, but really we were waiting for him to go out of bounds so we could get him in trouble. But then James showed up and said it was dangerous and we shouldn’t go through with it, and Sirius said that his being dead was as good as being expelled — same difference, like. And then James said he was going to stop him — Snape, that is — and told me to go get Professor McGonagall, and I did.”

That was...technically true. Still a sell-out, but not as bad as he had thought at first. Sirius shifted his glare from Peter to Snape.

“And James, my boy — did you believe, when you rushed in to save Mr. Snape, that he was truly in danger?”

“Erm...yes? I mean, it is full moon, and Remus is a werewolf, and we didn’t know that there were wards in place— I mean, erm... It sounds like Sirius assumed there were, but he didn’t check ahead of time to make sure.”

Sirius switched from glaring impotently at Snape to glaring impotently at James. How dare he make it sound like this was all Sirius’ fault? He wasn’t the one who had altered the wards for the sake of his own fucking convenience. If James would’ve just fucking talked to him instead of pretending he didn’t exist, like a fucking child, none of this would’ve ever happened. And implying that he needed a mind-healer? Bastard! I’m not mad, you git, he thought as loudly and clearly as he could, in James’ direction.

The Slytherin smirked at him, obviously having ‘overheard’ it, but it was Sirius who would’ve had the last word, assuming he could currently speak. Dumbledore said, “Ah, a true Gryffindor. I am certain you shall make a noble successor to your father’s legacy someday.” He sighed, and James preened slightly. “I think we have the full picture now — don’t you, Minerva?”

“If by that you mean Black recklessly sending Snape into a dangerous situation, Potter barreling in to rescue him with no thought for his own safety, and Snape only being there in the first place due to some absurd desire to further his feud with these boys, then yes, I think we are on the same page, Headmaster.”

The smirk dripped right off the oily git’s face. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

“Mr. Snape,” Dumbledore said, in his Disappointed Grandfather tone. “I am afraid we shall require you to swear secrecy before we may allow you to leave tonight.”

Minerva was nodding, and James looked relieved. Snivels looked furious.

“We cannot allow you to reveal poor Mr. Lupin’s status to the castle at large — just think the damage it would do to the boy’s future.”

At that, it seemed Snape was finally allowed to speak, or else his rage finally overwhelmed the silencing spell.

“He. Almost. Killed. Me!”

“In fact, he did not, though you and Mr. Potter both most certainly believed he did —and as such, I suspect you may owe Mr. Potter a life-debt. However, Mr. Lupin is every bit as much a victim as yourself.”

“He’s a bloody werewolf!”

“Through no fault of his own. Humor an old man for a moment, Mr. Snape... Just imagine what your own life would be like, if you were...unable, for some reason, to complete your NEWTs — if you were unable to find legitimate employment due to the wrong word dropped in precisely the wrong ear...” There was a heavy beat of silence, wherein Sirius had to resist the urge to applaud the Headmaster’s subtlety. “That is the position in which your revelation of Mr. Lupin’s condition to any other person might very well place him. I’m afraid that I cannot take that chance, given that he is not at all at fault, either for this night’s events or for his unfortunate condition.”

Snape had frozen, perfectly still and unreadable, as soon as he registered the implied threat to his own education and employment prospects. Sirius didn’t really see how it mattered, seeing as the Slytherin git was obviously destined to be one of Bella’s little Death Eaters, but apparently he thought it did because he drew his wand and bit out an oath, as though every syllable hurt. “I, Severus Snape, vow upon my honour not to disclose my knowledge of Remus Lupin’s status as a werewolf to anyone who does not already know.” A spark appeared at the end of his wand and drifted up to the crown of his head as it became binding.

James snorted, doubtless at the idea that Snivels had any honour to swear upon, but Dumbledore cocked his head to the side and nodded.

“May I leave then, Headmaster?”

“Not quite yet, Mr. Snape. There remains the issue of your punishment for being out of bounds, after all.”

“Sir?” Sirius didn’t think he had ever heard such disbelief and disdain condensed into a single syllable.

“I believe the precedent for being caught out of bounds before curfew is a week’s detention.”

“Detention. You’re giving me detention. Because Black tricked me into nearly getting eaten by a werewolf?!”

“Of course not, my dear boy! No, no, no — your detention is for leaving the school grounds without permission. I’m afraid that continuing your little feud with your classmates is no excuse for such truancy. I shall inform Mr. Filch that you are to serve your detentions after dinner, every night beginning tomorrow.”

Snape seemed to struggle for a moment before he said, “May I go now, sir? I find myself a bit...shaken, and would like to stop by the Hospital Wing before bed.” The Slytherin’s hands were indeed shaking, but Sirius would have bet anything that it was from rage, not fear. Detention was like...adding insult to injury. It was pretty funny, actually. It was probably a good thing that he was still unable to make a sound, because he suspected laughing wouldn’t go over too well at the moment.

“Very well, my boy. Just remember your vow, won’t you? That’s a good lad.”

Snape looked from one face to the next with hatred in his eyes, before sweeping from the room without another word.

“Mr. Pettigrew, you may take your leave as well,” Dumbledore added as the door slammed closed. “Minerva, would you mind summoning the Potters for me? I believe they are acting as Mr. Black’s guardians at the moment?”

Sirius nodded, and Minnie said, “Of course, Headmaster,” moving to the floo. Peter gave a pathetic little wave as he slipped out of the door, and then Charlus and Dorea arrived, and Sirius was finally un-silenced, and did his best to explain everything without actually admitting his feelings for Jamie. After that, the evening turned into a blur of hugs (Charlus), well-meaning but condescending advice that might have been helpful three weeks prior (Dorea), apologies (Jamie), more hugs (also Jamie), a small amount of crying (Sirius), and arranging for Sirius to visit a mind-healer for the next few months (everyone but Sirius, whose protests that he was fine were overwhelmed by Dorea’s insistence that every single scion of the thrice-cursed House of Black needed to see a mind-healer, and there was no shame in it).

At the end of the night, everyone seemed pleased, or at least hopeful. Sirius smiled hopefully along with them, but felt absolutely wretched, because a) Jamie kept looking at him with this hideous look of pity whenever he thought Sirius wasn’t paying attention to him, b) he fucking hated legilimency, and people fucking around with his mind, which was, to the best of his understanding, pretty much exactly what mind-healing entailed, and c) he wasn’t supposed to have to put on a fucking show and live up to expectations for the Potters, and now here he was, doing the same thing he always did — with a different mask and a different family for completely different reasons, but it felt exactly the same — like a lie that he didn’t quite want to get away with.

Dorea dragged him through the floo, positively chattering about getting him an appointment with her friend John in the morning, and Charlus promised that they would return him in time for classes on Monday — and Jamie just watched them all go, looking every bit as helpless and overwhelmed as Sirius felt.