Chapter 1
1st September, 1978
11.00am
Sirius Black was lying on his bed, an unlit cigarette dangling absent-mindedly out of his mouth. Remus Lupin was next to him, dozing lightly. Sirius, however, had been awake for several hours, waiting for this exact moment. Last night Professor McGonagall—Minerva, rather—had made a hasty visit to them, requesting that they join a ‘cult’, as James so charmingly put it, to fight against Lord Voldemort. They had said yes, naturally. To think this time last year he had been on a train to his last year at Hogwarts. That felt like years ago.
The Order of the Phoenix. Interesting name, though it had been Dumbledore who named it, so what were they really expecting? That man had a thing for being a flamer. Haha, you get a mildly offensive gay joke this early in! Moving on. It was an elite task force, essentially, to take down Voldemort and his disciples. Jesus, when had it come to this? Fucking shitballs, he didn’t want to think about the war. Thinking about scrambled eggs seemed like a more comfortable option.
He stood up and lit his cigarette, after putting on a shirt - he knew James was inevitably going to be downstairs. He really regretted giving that man a key.
“Morning, Prongs.”
“It’s me, actually,” said Peter, looking rather pale. Sirius looked a little surprised, but continued into the kitchen.
“James send you?” he asked, cracking two eggs into a bowl.
“Partly. I also—wanted to make sure you’re doing all right,” he said. “No Hogwarts, and all. It’s the first meeting of that Phoenix thing today, too.”
“Mm,” said Sirius. “Coffee, Wormy?”
“Tea’d be nice, if you’re putting the kettle on. Where’s Remus?”
“Asleep. You know what he’s like after his transformations.”
Peter nodded. “Right. Oh, speak of the devil.”
“Morning, Pete. Padfoot,” said Remus, coming down the stairs in his ‘pyjamas’ - he’d fallen asleep in his cardigan again.
“Morning.”
“Morning, Moons. Coffee?”
“If you’re making it. Peter, are you all right? You look a bit…shaken up,” said Remus, looking concerned.
“Yeah, no, I—” Peter sighed. “My Aunt Matilda’s dead.”
Sirius dropped an egg. “Shit—Jesus, mate. Sit down. Are you OK?”
He took a seat, wiping his upper lip ungracefully. “I’m—I don’t know. I mean, she was a right cunt, actually but—she was a Muggle, you know. Last night—late last night—a couple of Death Eaters showed up at her house and—kablam. I was staying with her, but I was out on a walk.”
“Christ, Pete, that’s terrible,” said Remus. “Sirius, you want to get some tea on?”
“Right.” Sirius put out his cigarette and went back into the kitchen.
“People are dying, Moony. This is a war, a real war. Why would they target her? She’s a Muggle, she wasn’t doing anything other than being a bit racist—a lot racist, actually, but—oh, God.”
Remus put a steadying hand on his arm. “I’m sure it was random, Wormtail, it’s not your fault.”
Peter nodded shakily. “I know—I know that. I just…I was staying at her house because I didn’t want to put my parents in danger, and now…this. It could’ve been me, I could’ve died if I hadn’t…”
“Fucking hell, Pete,” said Sirius. “Listen, why don’t you stay at ours for a while if it’ll make you feel better? It’s a two-bedroom flat, and—”
“Not the time, Padfoot,” warned Remus quietly, foreseeing an Inappropriate Joke For This Current Moment In Time.
“I don’t know if I can—”
“It’s no problem,” said Remus, stopping Peter before he could finish. “You’re our friend.”
“Mate, why don’t you go lie down? You look exhausted,” said Sirius, handing him his mug of tea.
Peter took the tea, nodded, and went upstairs.
“D’you reckon he’ll be OK?” asked Remus.
Sirius nodded. “He’s just shocked. I’ve met his Aunt Matilda, and they weren’t close, she is a cunt.”
“I can imagine.”
Remus looked up at the stairs. “Not much survivor’s guilt. That’s odd, isn’t it?”
“Moony, there’s no need to analyse him.” Sirius handed Remus a mug of coffee and went back to whisking eggs. “How’s the job hunt?”
“Dismal,” said Remus with a sigh. “I’m just glad we’re joining a…vigilante anti-terrorist group so I’ll have something to fill my days.”
“We’ll be fine. I mean, I don’t have any money anymore, but James’ll keep us alive.”
“Yeah, well. I don’t like relying on him so much,” said Remus.
“Me neither, but it’s what we’ve got for now.” Sirius tipped the eggs into a pan and started scrambling. “Toast?”
“Sure. Who else is dead?”
Sirius didn’t bat an eye. “Marlene’s dad was targeted after her stunt in Surrey a while ago, but he managed to get away. Euphemia and Fleamont are fine, I’m having lunch with them this Sunday.”
“I asked who was dead.” Remus took a sip of coffee.
“D’you remember the DADA teacher we had in Fifth Year? The idiot? Boggart lesson?”
“He’s dead?”
“Yes.”
“Strange.”
“I’m not exactly sad, per se, but it feels weird. He didn’t go down fighting, just attacked in the street, apparently.” Sirius spooned some eggs onto toast and handed a plate to Remus.
“Oy vey, this a far more depressing start to a fic than the last one.”
“Tell me about it.”
1st September, 1978
2.04pm
“Strange choice of secret headquarters,” said Sirius, peering around the pleasant cottage.
“Would a secret headquarters really be secret if it looked like a secret headquarters?” asked Emmeline Vance, a sharp-witted girl who had been in the year above them at Hogwarts.
“Fair point.” Sirius entered the small living room, where several familiar faces were gathered. Molly Prewett, Arthur Weasley, Marlene McKinnon, Dorcas Meadowes, Frank Longbottom, Alice Prewett, Peter (who had insisted on attending), James Potter and Lily Evans were all sitting on various surfaces. Albus Dumbledore was also there, as was a man who Sirius did not recognise, but had the same glinting eyes as Dumbledore.
“Thank you all for responding to Minerva so promptly,” said Dumbledore. “I’m sure we all know why we’re here.”
There was a murmur.
4th September, 1978
1.52am
“MARLENE, I’M BEHIND YOU,” bellowed Sirius, amidst a fireworks display of green light. “PRONGS, YOUR LEFT.”
James whirled around and sent a well-aimed jet of light at a masked figure, causing his hair to turn into a plant that Sirius later realised was Devil’s Snare. James was really utilising those Transfiguration and Herbology N.E.W.T.s. It knocked him out cold, then turned back into hair again.
“MARLENE—SHIT,” yelled James. Marlene had taken a Severing Charm to the face, which was now bleeding profusely.
“I’M FINE, I’M FINE,” she shouted. “SON OF A BITCH, I’M NOT FINE—COVER ME.” She sent a Stunning Spell in the approximate direction of the Death Eater. James sent Entirely Random charms off around her as she desperately tried to stem the flow of blood from her face.
“YOU’RE A WITCH, YOU FUCKING MORON,” yelled Sirius, successfully rendering one of the three remaining attackers unconscious.
“OH FUCK, FORGOT.”
“SIRIUS, WHERE’S ELVENDORK?” James was furiously casting Shield Charms.
“DOWN THAT ALLEY, TWENTY METRES. BUT WE CAN’T ALL FIT ON HER AND IF SHE GETS A SINGLE SCRATCH I WILL KILL MYSELF. KILL MYSELF. I WOULD RATHER SEE YOU DEAD.”
“FUCKING CHRIST, SIRIUS,” said Marlene, back in the fight. “KID, GET OUT OF HERE. GO ON, GO!”
The boy in moon and star pyjamas scuttled out of the street, after his parents.
4th September, 1978
1.56am
“I can’t believe you wouldn’t send me on this, Professor,” said Remus, tapping his fingers on the table anxiously.
“My boy, this is not school,” said Dumbledore congenially. “Here I am no more a professor than you are.”
Remus gave him a piercing look. “Why wouldn’t you send me?”
“We can only send a few wizards at a time or there’d be a real problem,” said Lily, entering with two cups of tea. “Dumbledore? Tea?”
“I’m all right, thank you.”
“Just tell me where they are, and I can get over there—make sure they’re OK—”
“Remus. I’m worried sick too, and Dorcas will be as well, but we have to think rationally about this. They’re going to be fine. They’re clever, and they’re good wizards.”
Remus swallowed. “Right. Right, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, lovey.” Lily smiled and handed him a mug. “It’s perfectly natural to be scared. But they’re doing good work, and for a good cause.”
“I know.”
“Now, which napkins would look nicer?” Lily held up two napkins.
Remus shook his head. “The…white ones?”
“Dumbledore, what d’you think?”
4th September, 1978
2.41am
The door opened and Remus’ head whipped around.
“Nope, just me,” said Dorcas, shaking out an umbrella. “I assume no news, then?”
Lily shook her head. “Nothing yet.”
Dorcas kicked off her boots and came in. “Warm in here.”
“Tea.” Remus got up and put on the kettle.
“Remus, you should get some sleep,” said Lily.
“Well, so should you, but we’re not saying anything about that. I’m waiting until my boyfriend’s back.”
“They said they’d be back by two, didn’t they?” said Dorcas. No one replied.
4th September, 1978
3.35am
“Fucking fuck,” said Sirius, bursting through the door. “Honey, I’m home.”
“MOTHERFUCKER, YOU’RE LATE,” yelled Remus, running into the hallway. “I was certain you were dead. I was certain.”
James and Marlene entered behind him, looking very beaten up.
“Marly, what the fuck happened to your face?” cried Dorcas. “That’s going to leave a scar, oh, God. Come in here.”
“Wait, fucker!” Remus hugged Marlene, who was then dragged off into the living room to have actual medical care. Remus turned back to Sirius and kissed him properly.
“Your face is warm, darling.”
Lily was hugging James so tightly he couldn’t breathe, but he was hugging her back just as tightly.
“I don’t know if my heart can take this,” said Remus. “You know, that’s partly a joke and partly not.”
“It’s going to have to, Moons.”
“I know. I know that,” Remus said, more for himself than anyone else.
“Sirius, come here,” said Lily, who had been more worried than she had let on. “Fuck.”
4th September, 1978
4.03am
There had been an attempt at sleep, at least, but everyone was far too high-strung to actually achieve it. They were all staying in the headquarters; no one had thought it a good idea to move at night, except Dumbledore, who had left shortly after the three had arrived back. They had congregated in the living room.
“Oh, there’s a piano here,” said Sirius.
“Don’t you play piano, Padfoot?” asked James.
Sirius shrugged. “I used to. I haven’t practised in months, though. The Potters had a piano, but my apartment doesn’t.”
“Play something,” said Marlene. Sirius got up.
“It’s not exactly going to be perfect, but I think I remember the Raindrop Prelude.”
And so he played, rather shittily I might add, because you have to practise if you want to be good, kids. But it was comforting, and James, who was used to Sirius’ playing, fell asleep on Lily’s shoulder.
21st September, 1978
3.12pm
“Lily Evans, soon-to-be-Potter,” said Remus, deadly serious. “I have two words for you.”
She looked at him expectantly.
“Hen do.”
“Oh, I hadn’t even thought about that!” she cried. “OK, when are we doing it?”
“Er, well, it has to be a night when no one’s out on a call, and it probably can’t be huge.”
“No, I don’t want anything big. So I guess it’ll be bridesmaids, then?”
“Yes. Now, it’s going to be a surprise, obviously—”
“Of course.”
“But, I was wondering if you had anything you definitely didn’t want, so I don’t accidentally make this the worst night of your life.”
“Remus, nothing you could do could make this worse than the time James thought he killed Poseidon.”
Remus looked at her, concerned. “What?”
“He cried for six hours. Six.”
Remus shook his head. “What?”
“He was a bit drunk, and Poseidon was napping.”
“What?”
“Moving on. I always wanted my hen night to be the night before my wedding, so…”
“October 30th it is. I can’t believe you’re getting married on Halloween.”
“James insisted. I warned him he had to wear a suit, not a costume.”
“Dammit. I would’ve killed to see Prongs in a Captain America costume at his wedding,” said Remus. “Speaking of, you’re leaving it a bit late to get your dress, are you not?”
“I know, I’ve been meaning to, but the Order…”
“Sod the Order. We’ll go tomorrow and hope to fuck they can get it done in a month.”
22nd September, 1978
11.29am
“I must say, it’s unusual for the groom to attend,” said the attendant, looking rather pompously at the jean-clad Lily and the cardigan-wearing Remus.
“Oh, I’m not marrying him, love,” said Lily. “He’s my maid of honour.”
“Man of honour,” said Remus rather wearily. “Just…show us the dresses.”
22nd September, 1978
11.58am
“No, the neckline’s wrong,” said Remus, who had initially been rather reluctant, but had gotten into it eventually. “And the arms are…terrible. I hate them.”
“I concur, sir,” said Lily, poking one of the deeply 70s poofy sleeves. “I reckon a sweetheart neckline’d be nicer.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“Like…this,” she replied, holding up another white dress with a sweetheart neckline. “But the material on this one’s kind of ugly. It needs to be cheap, too, this one’s—Jesus, £1400. It's hideous, as well.”
“What about…” Remus dug through the rack, until he found a sleeveless white dress.
“How much?”
Remus checked the tag. “Holy shit, £200. The others were all at least £700.”
“Dude!” said Lily. “I’ll try it.” She took the dress into the changing room.
Remus waited expectantly. And waited a little bit longer. And a bit longer. “What in the shit is taking so long?”
“I LOOK SO GOOD.” Lily’s voice was cracking.
“Come out, idiot.”
She stepped out of the changing room, her eyes sparkling with tears. Remus audibly gasped.
“We need to get you some better shoes,” said Remus, looking at her ratty trainers. “But it’s perfect, Lils, you look amazing.”
“And it’s CHEAP,” she yelled. The attendant looked at her, irritated. “Sorry. Can I buy this?”
1st October, 1978
12.51am
Sirius Black was crying.
Remus opened the door after a long night of Trying Not To Get Killed. “Padfoot?” He dropped his satchel and rushed over to him. “Hey, hey—what’s going on?”
“I think I’m racist against blonde people,” said Sirius.
“Oh thank god, I thought something real had happened.”
“This is real!”
“No, you’re just drunk,” said Remus, rather irritated. “Christ, Sirius, I was out for three hours.”
“It was better than thinking about what could happen to you.”
Remus sighed. “What do you mean, racist against blonde people? That isn’t a thing. Peter is blonde. So’s Alice. So’s Frank.”
“And I’m not trying to snog any of them, am I?” said Sirius.
Remus stared at him wearily. “Frank.”
“…Oh yeah.”
“Sirius, this can’t happen again, OK? I don’t want to come home to you drunk-crying because you think you’re racist against blonde people. Please start acting like a human."
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well. Have fun on the sofa.”
Sirius sighed deeply. “I guess I deserve that. Goodnight, my love.”
“Er, before I go, I’m going to be heading home for a few days.”
Sirius looked at him, concerned. “What?”
“I’ve told Dumbledore. My mum’s sick.”
“What?” Sirius stood up. “Remus!”
Remus shook his head. “I’m not discussing this with you while you’re shitfaced.”
“You didn’t tell me? Is it bad?”
“Goodnight, Sirius.”
1st October, 1978
6.32am
“Morning,” said Sirius. Remus sighed deeply.
“I thought I’d escaped you by being up early.”
“And I knew you’d think that. I made you coffee.”
“I don’t want it.”
Sirius looked at him. “It’s an apology.”
“No it isn’t.” Remus stared back at him. “An apology is words, not bribery.”
“Write to me,” said Sirius gently. “And drink your coffee, you’re tired as shit.”
“You’re hungover as shit.” Remus dropped his satchel.
“Not anymore. I drank a full bottle of sweet chilli sauce and ate an entire raw egg. It was very crunchy.”
Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sweet Jesus. Salmonella.”
“Your train’s at 7.07, you should head off. The coffee’s in a thermos in there.”
Remus swallowed. “Thank you, Padfoot.” He headed into the kitchen and picked up the thermos, along with the bar of Cadbury’s that had ‘please don’t eat this before lunch, that’s gross’ written on it. “What’s gross is you eating an entire egg with the shell on it,” he called, before coming out of the kitchen. “Listen, I didn’t want to tell you this, but I left you a letter of advice in case you’re thinking of doing anything stupid,” he said reluctantly.
“This just says ‘Sirius, no. Don't. No.’.”
“Exactly.”
“Thank you, Moons.”
“I’ve got to go,” Remus said. “Goodbye, Sirius.”
“She’s going to be fine, Moony.”
16th October, 1978
10.02am
Unusually for Newcastle in October, and uncharacteristically for a funeral, it was a sunny day. Remus had seen it coming to an extent; she’d been ill for a while. What he hadn’t expected was such a rapid deterioration in her state. The funeral was a small affair. Quiet. It had to be, really. Large gatherings of people associated with wizards would’ve caused far too much attention. Euphemia was here, along with James. Remus had not allowed Sirius or Lily to come, but James had insisted. Nearly everyone here was a Muggle, save for Euphemia, James, his father and himself. He had tuned out of the service, but had listened to Euphemia’s stories of her, and his aunt’s. He didn’t want to relay any himself. His memories of her were private.
The wake was slightly more upbeat, but Remus felt like his head was full of cotton wool. James stuck close to him for the entire day.
“I need a whiskey.”
“No, you don’t,” said James. “What are you, Scottish? No.”
Remus exhaled. “Seriously, I just need a drink.”
“Numbing the pain for now won’t do anything, Remus. I know you, and you’ll end up drunk and rolling around in a graveyard. Which, incidentally, is what your mother will be doing in her grave.”
Remus downed his Fanta angrily. “Fuck you.”
“You’re welcome.” James put a hand on his shoulder.
“What are you doing?”
“Comfort.”
“As a wise man once said…that’s gay comfort.”
James smiled. “You should call Sirius, mate. He loves you more than anything in the world and I’m sure he wants to talk to you.”
Remus shook his head. “I don’t want…no.”
“Why not? You’re fucking falling apart, and with good reason. Sirius knows you better than anyone.”
“Yeah, well. I can’t…burden him with this shit. He's got his own problems.”
James stared at him.
“What?”
“Remus, your mother literally just…passed away, and you’re worrying about Sirius?”
“When you put it like that it sounds stupid.”
“No, it sounds like you are violently compassionate and empathetic. Too much so.”
“OK.”
The reply was somewhat out-of-character for Remus, but James didn’t say anything further.
19th October, 1978
3.38pm
“I’ve got soup on, if you want it,” was the first thing Sirius said to Remus when he stepped into the small apartment. “You look exhausted.”
“No shit,” said Remus sharply, then shook his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”
“Moony, you’ve had a hell of an October. You can snap all you like.” Sirius put a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Moons. Just…sit down. Maybe I won’t subject you to my soup today, it’s deeply terrible. Takeout? I'm pretty sure Lily'll be over with stuff from the chippy or something later.”
19th October, 1978
7.41pm
“I brought Chinese,” said Lily, climbing in through the window.
“We would’ve given you a key if you’d asked, you know,” said Remus, his head in Sirius’ lap.
“Prawn toast, bitch,” she said, setting a plastic bag down on the coffee table. “Doctor Who?”
“Yep,” said Sirius. “We’re watching the old episodes. William Hartnell, baby.”
“The edutainment ones?” asked Lily, untying her ponytail. “Boring. This is going to get cold.”
“OK, OK.” Sirius paused it and Remus lifted his head so he could get up.
“I also brought Dr Pepper, because you both have a debilitating alcohol problem.”
She was booed.
“Shut up, idiots.”
They sat watching old Doctor Who and eating Chinese takeaway until Lily was basically asleep.
“I’m going to the Yorkshire Dales,” said Remus suddenly.
“You’re what?” asked Sirius.
“I’m going to the Yorkshire Dales.”
“What?”
“I’m going to the Yorkshire Dales.”
“What?”
“I’m going to the Y—”