Chapter 2
As James takes a seat, he feels his chest fill with good will. These are the people he’s fighting for. This is what matters. After so much isolation it’s good to be reminded why they bother.
Lily sits at the head of the table and he’s on her right, squeezing her hand under the table as she explains all the dishes. It’s a fairly ridiculous meal: Remus and Sirius brought Devon pie, Alice made some sort of roast and Frank brought lumpia, Peter provided loads of alcohol, and James made chicken tikka masala and a massive batch of naan. It all promises to be delicious, and the cheerful chaos of the dishes reminds James of his friends themselves.
They all take a few minutes to serve themselves. The babies are strapped in high chairs, occasionally babbling. Sirius, sitting on James’s right, is wound up and seems ready to spring as he reaches over everyone for his favorite dishes. On the other side of the table from them sit Remus, Peter, and Alice, with Frank opposite Lily. It doesn’t escape James’s attention that Remus and Sirius are as far from each other as they can be at this small table. He makes eye contact with Lily; from their prolonged seclusion they’ve gained an almost telepathic knowledge of each other. He thinks that she can see what he’s saying: afterwards, you’ll take Remus, and I’ll take Sirius, and we’ll get to the bottom of this.
Lily raises her wine glass before everyone digs in. “A toast?” Everyone complies. “Here’s to us, making it here. Making the time for each other. Here’s to Harry and Neville. And to Marlene.” She nearly downs the glass, and James can still see the potential tears waiting around her eyelids. He puts a hand on her shoulder and squeezes it. He wants so much for her to be happy, it hurts.
Sirius, tearing into a piece of naan, grins. It looks like his atoms are buzzing, he has so much energy tonight. “I’ll never forget that night Marlene took me to see Bowie. Showed up at the flat at 11 and barely told me where we were going, but that look in her eye...Like she knew just exactly what everyone needed.” He sighs. “Jesus. That must have been one of the best nights of my life. Didn’t get home til gone six.” He’s smiling and suddenly stiller, and James wills him to stay that way.
Remus laughs a little. “She told me the week before, asked if it should be a surprise. I told her you’d go mental waiting for ten days if you knew you’d be seeing him, she should just turn up and whisk you off.” He glances up only briefly, mostly staring at his plate as he remembers.
Alice rolls her eyes. “Marlene certainly had a flair for the dramatic. Waltzed into our room first year, haughty as anything, and claimed half the room just for herself. Scared Lily pantsless.”
“Oh, she did not,” Lily protests. “I was perfectly at ease.”
“Of course, if by ‘at ease’ you mean scared pantsless,” Alice grins.
James laughs as Lily defends her long-ago self. As the women trade barbs across the table, Peter smiles broadly but stays silent as his eyes pingpong between the two. To James’s right Sirius and Frank begin a quiet conversation about the deterioration of the free press, but he’ll have no part in that tonight.
Everything is not fine. Of course it isn’t. But right now, it’s almost alright. He grabs another piece of naan and savors every bite.
__________
Frank leans back in his chair, perfectly situated to see every one of his friends at once. Sirius keeps bouncing between conversational partners and has momentarily turned away from Frank. This gives him a wonderful opportunity to watch.
He still feels paternal. He was two years ahead of all of them at school, and even though it’s been ages since he was a student, there’s something about seeing all of these faces in one place again that has him feel almost like a prefect again.
Alice, of course, is a different matter. He gazes at her now as she loses patience with Peter’s unfunny jokes. “You need to learn how to tell a proper story, Peter. You can’t lead with the punchline,” she tells him, shaking her head. Frank smiles to himself.
Before they left the house, Alice had placed her hands on Frank’s shoulders. “We’ll have fun tonight,” she said as though conceding a point, “But we need to make sure no one’s lost it. Most of these people already had a rough go of it. This summer has been shit. We need to check up on them.”
Frank had agreed to help her. It was a goal in which their complementary strengths would be highlighted, he thought. She notices the details that give something away. He won’t be surprised if, at the end of the night, she tells him exactly how many drinks each person had. Frank, on the other hand, will barely be able to say what color anyone was wearing, but he will have taken the emotional temperature of everyone here.
Sirius, he can tell, is teetering on the edge of some cliff, and though Frank doesn’t know exactly what it is, it looks like he’ll fall off before a week is out. He’s whispering some joke to James now, and the two crack up as Lily shoots her husband an exasperated look.
She leans forward and asks Frank across the table, “How is your mother?” Lily had met her at Frank and Alice’s wedding and the two had struck up an odd sort of friendship, exchanging occasional letters and, far more frequently, insisting Frank give each one detailed reports on the other. He opens his mouth to answer, but Alice speaks first.
“His mother is an absolute menace to the neighborhood. Which is a good thing, since her neighborhood is being overrun with would-be death eaters.” Alice laughs a little, nudging Frank. “Tell them about the Mortensons.”
“Oh, Lord. She’s a very...creative witch, you know. And this family, the Mortensons, they were having meetings in their house, one of those grassroots pro-Voldemort leagues you hear about. My mother wouldn’t stand for that, of course.”
Alice interrupts with a startlingly accurate impression of Frank’s mother. “‘These fools don’t know what real trials are! Wait til you’ve trudged across Vichy France with your dead-beat husband and someone else’s baby! What do they think they can complain about? They think this Voldemort character has any real solutions for them? Idiots, all of them!’” She concludes with unintelligible muttering as the table cracks up.
When Frank recovers himself, he continues. “So what does she do, well, she sets up a spell--don’t ask me quite how--so that when they have their meetings, and only then, any person who walks into that door becomes a cat. A bloody cat. Really, the woman’s mad.” He says this as his friends all laugh, but mad or not, he admires his mother a great deal.
So does Lily, of course, who laughs the longest at the anecdote. She seems weak tonight, somehow, like she can’t quite bring herself to enjoy the evening. Yes, she’s laughing and drinking and making eyes at James, but her affect is wrong somehow. Frank thinks about the glass vase at home with radiant irises and murky water.
Things are not fine. The table is full of desperate people trying to forget about their lives, and Frank is especially worried about Remus and Peter. As the former continues to smile down into his napkin like he wishes he could fold up into it, and the latter drinks more and more and loses the pretense of levity, Frank makes notes to share with Alice later. Something about the way Peter looks at Sirius tonight… It’s all unsettling. Frank sips his wine and leans back again.
__________
The baby wails. Lily and James simultaneously stand and rush to coo at his side. Peter looks away. No, no, no. Focus on goals. Things need to happen tonight, specific things. Not pitying the baby, not regretting his pragmatism.
He turns to Remus who looks like he wants to run. He makes sure Sirius is occupied. He is, talking with Frank in low, serious tones. He turns to Remus. “Alright, mate?”
Remus’s head snaps up. Peter registers the shock a minute late. “Yeah, of course. Tired, that’s all.” Peter knows that smile is fake.
He leans in. Offers Remus solidarity. His voice lowers. “Is it Sirius?”
One of Remus’s hands reaches reflexively for his hair. “Peter--sorry. I’m not sure--Maybe we can talk later.”
But later there won’t be a screaming baby, later others will want to talk to Remus, later… Peter nearly whispers. “He has been acting suspicious lately, though. I see it too, don’t worry.” Every word seems to ratchet up the tension Remus is already feeling. Peter hates to see it. His poor friend. “Just tell me if you notice anything else, yeah?”
Remus stands abruptly, drawing everyone’s attention. Especially Sirius’s. He mutters something and slips off to the bathroom. Peter sits back in his chair. He notices too late Frank’s keen eye on him. Can’t be good.
__________
As the meal begins to slow, James catches Lily’s eye and she nods. Time to get to the bottom of things. Alice is trying to engage Peter and Remus in conversation, and neither are being particularly cooperative. Lily stands and puts a hand on Remus’s shoulder, startling him. “Will you come help me put Harry to bed?” she asks softly.
Frank smiles gratefully at Lily. Sometimes she forgets how clever he really is, not just in the ways everyone sees, but more quietly. Everyone knows he could hex you up and down, but not everyone knows how much he notices.
Remus stands and follows Lily slowly as she heads for the nursery, Harry in her arms. He was already falling asleep in his high chair, and so putting him to bed isn’t too tricky. Once he’s down, Remus makes as if to head back to the dining room but Lily stops him in the hallway. “Remus,” she says gently, “What’s wrong?”
He looks like nothing but chance is keeping him from collapsing. He looks Lily in the eye for a long time and she thinks he’s trying to tell her everything without saying a word. Finally, he slides down the wall to sit against it, and she follows suit.
“Lily, I don’t know how to do this. I don’t think I can much longer.” His voice is barely steady.
“Do what?” she asks. She wonders what it is about her that invites confidences. Some days she’s glad of it, and sometimes it makes her crazy. Today she hopes it works on Remus.
“Jesus. All of it. Living with him. He won’t hardly talk to me, so I do the same. We haven’t had sex in weeks and weeks. He’s always off and I don’t know where, half the time. Could be Order business, could be anything.” Remus is obsessively scratching his shoulder. He won’t look at Lily, but he’s not crying yet. “I just--I haven’t been okay all summer. These fucking missions Dumbledore has me on, they’re going to kill me. But home’s no better.” His words don’t say all that much she didn’t know, but the way he says them is excruciating. Like each sentence is being ripped out of his gut.
Lily takes a moment to absorb the pain in her friend’s voice, which is more than she realized there would be. “I’m sorry, Remus. That sounds terrible.” What else can she say? She wraps an arm around his shoulder and he finally starts crying. Quietly, she casts a muffliato to protect his privacy.
“I’m sorry,” he manages. “Ruining your dinner party. Werewolves really do make terrible houseguests.” She laughs with him there.
“It’s okay. I promise. I just wish there was anything I could do.” There’s not, which is vaguely frustrating, but she considers the situation. “I think you need to break the silence, Remus. Tell him something, even something small first. The bastard is too stubborn to do it himself.” Remus laughs weakly. Lily squeezes his shoulder. “You’re working yourself to the bone for the Order. The least you deserve is a home that feels like home and a partner that acts like a partner.”
As his sniffles grow further apart, he gives her a small smile. “God. You’re the best.”
“Well, yes.” She grins. “Can I clean you up so we can eat some cake and end this godforsaken dinner party?”
__________
The cake disappears almost as soon as it’s served. Sirius offers to help James clean and buzzes over to the kitchen. He assures everyone else that they’ve got it handled, they’ll be fine, please just enjoy yourselves.
So he has James alone in the kitchen. Glancing at the doorway, he casts a quick muffliato and turns to his friend. James is already starting the dishes and eyes Sirius. “So,” James begins, his best attempts at nonchalance not very good. “How are things with you and Remus?”
Sirius rolls his eyes and finds he’s bouncing on his heels a little. “You can’t be worrying about the state of my relationship, James, not now. Listen, I think--”
“Now hold on. Don’t change the subject. I’ve noticed all night now--”
“No, shut up. This is important.” Sirius needs James to hear this and he needs James to agree. This thing that’s been simmering in his mind for weeks needs an outlet. No part of his head is screwed in quite right but he’s sure this is real. James is still using his wand to clean the dishes, but he’s leaned against a counter, giving Sirius the pointedly patient look. That look is as familiar to Sirius as his favorite worn-out boots, and he tries to take some comfort from it. “You know we have a spy.” James nods. “Don’t you think it might be…” He trails off, willing James to jump in with the same suspicion.
He doesn’t, and instead puts aside the dishes and furrows his brow at Sirius. “Do you know who it is?”
Sirius paces the tiny kitchen, shoving off of counters and pulling on his hair. “I think--or, I know--or--it’s Remus.” He stares at James, waiting for affirmation in his friend’s eyes, some sign of my god, you’re right, it all adds up.
Instead James’s face flashes horror and pity. “Sirius--no. Merlin. What are you talking about?”
Sirius is not wrong about this. “It makes sense, James. The things the spy knows. That level of access, it has to be someone close. Remus lately, he’s been so weird, and secretive, and always gone...”
James has been shaking his head the whole time Sirius has been talking. “No. You can’t do this. Christ, Sirius, you’ve been weird and secretive and off god knows where. That’s not an argument and you know it. You need to snap out of it.”
And for James, it probably was that easy, Sirius thinks with some bitterness. Thoughts measured, one against the other, rather than stacking every higher into a precarious tower. “There’s nothing to snap out of,” he insists. He wonders if he’ll ever be still again. He doubts it. “I have it written down--proof--reasons.” Sirius looks upwards, knowing exactly how it sounds when he says, “Come on, James. If you were him? Three years out of Hogwarts, smartest kid to ever graduate, and nothing?”
James narrows his eyes and Sirius wants to shrink. Or to punch him. “I want you to say it out loud. I want you to hear yourself. What are you trying to say?” James’s voice is quiet and almost dangerous in a way that’s seldom aimed at Sirius.
He slams a counter because he hates himself as he replies. “He’s a werewolf. Okay? Come on. You’ve never thought it, how it might be for him? What choice would you make? He’s a fucking werewolf.”
James explodes then. “And you’re a fucking Black! What choice would you make? What choices have you made? Lord knows I’ve thought about both of your situations. And I trust you both. I cannot believe you would think that way about Remus.”
Sirius wants to scream. “There’s proof.” Hadn’t he just been over it all earlier today? Why wasn’t it coming to mind? Quieter, more scared, he repeats, “There’s proof. There is. Ask Peter.”
James laughs, a hard, abrupt thing. “Oh my god. Have you roped Peter into your conspiracy theory? That is despicable.” They both take a moment to breathe, neither looking at the other. James finally asks, desperate, mad, and quiet, “Can you explain to me? The proof? I don’t understand why you would think this.”
Sirius’s mind won’t be still, but he tries to make it so. He tries to sort through it all, and he finds he can’t. Nothing comes to mind, nothing except James’s expression of remorse and the silence that has been slowly ossifying between him and Remus. He shuts his eyes and says softly, “I promise. It’s all written down at home.” He hates being the crazy one. He’s so sick of it. He needs this to be true, because his head is full of it.
James starts washing dishes again as he replies. “Think about Marlene, Sirius. That could be any of us tomorrow. We don’t know. I think you’re acting irrationally and it’s only going to make you more miserable. Just--what if he didn’t make it back? You’d want this to be how you treated him?”
“Of course not.” Sirius throws his hands up. “If he weren’t the spy. And if he is? If me trusting him--you trusting him--leads to more deaths?” James says nothing, just fixes Sirius with a long stare. Sirius does his best not to look away.
Finally, James sighs and pulls Sirius into an unexpected hug. “That’s what this bloody war is all about, Sirius. Destroying trust. Don’t let them win, for Christ’s sake.”