Chapter Text
The Drought
All was quiet.
The forest was eerily still. No animals in sight, no breeze to help the stifling heat. A boy stood in a clearing, surrounded by yellowed grass and weeds. Tall, harrowing trees engulfed him, curling in like a cloak to shroud the sky.
Suddenly, a gust of wind burst through. The boy felt his glasses wobble and his t-shirt flutter. The leaves rustled soundlessly against gnarled branches. The overgrown stalks flickered like candles against his bare ankles.
The wind picked up, volume rising as twigs and foliage began to lift in the air. A sudden, tornado-like storm arose around the boy on his patch of dried grass.
Wind whipped and whistled in a bitter way. Dust and dirt spun about him, clouding the forest in a dull gray. The sounds became louder: leaves on branches, branches on trees, barking on howling, and then suddenly a scream.
It was a woman, shrill and agonizing. It was the sound of pure hurt. A baby wailed and cried along with her, oh so lonely.
The noise continued for a moment, overwhelming his senses and sending him to the ground.
The boy collapsed onto dead earth. The second his knees hit the ground, the wind died and the noise stopped.
All was quiet. Alarmingly so. The world was still, the sky was guarded and the earth was dead.
A small rustle in the brushes caused the boy to look up. He rightened his glasses on his nose to make sure he was seeing clearly.
A stag was standing sure and still on the ground. He was proud and defiant and curious.
The creature took a step forward, defenseless.
And a bright green jet flashed before the stag.
James Potter woke up with a start.
He was panting heavily and tangled within sweaty sheets, but somewhere in the back of his sleep muddled mind he registered a banging on the door.
He stumbled from bed, a mess of too long limbs and too messy hair. James Potter, a wiry boy of fifteen, could not see without his glasses. The world blurred and spun around him, in his confusion. He rooted around his bedside table, spilling some ink and knocking an open book to the floor, before he finally grasped his specs.
Pushing them roughly on his face, he floundered out of the room in his boxers and sleep shirt.
James rushed down the stairs, wandless and defiant, ready to face whatever was on the other side of the door. In his tornado of panicked thoughts and teenage hormones, James did not once stop to consider what he might actually see when he opened the door.
Staring wide eyed from the other side of the frame was a pale, bruised form, a hound of a boy with his hackles raised.
He was an alarmingly handsome lad with a black eye and a weak, yet arrogant grin. A boy that James Potter knew very well, “Sirius!” He rushed forward to grab his friend in an awkward yet warm hug.
The boy startled a bit at the touch, “Oi, careful mate. Precious cargo here,” James beamed, releasing him, “You didn’t tell me you were coming! Especially at…” he trailed off looking at the clock in the foyer, “Blyme, it’s half three in the morning.”
Sirius shuffled in through the door, which James graciously shut, locking out the stiff and stifling heat that lingered despite the hour of night.
James envied that Sirius’ silky black hair hung about his face elegantly, despite the humidity. But, he could not hold it against his friend as Sirius grinned, a brilliant and mischievous thing, “Have to keep you on your toes, right mate?”
He laughed, feeling warm and confused, as he often was in the presence of his best friend, “Right. Let’s get you some potions for that eye. What was it this time?”
Sirius’ expression darkened for a moment, but he answered nonetheless, “Wally clipped me with a candlestick. I didn’t feel like hanging around too long after her tantrum. They'll come fetch me when they notice I’m gone,” he spoke nonchalantly.
But, James felt disturbed, as was customary whenever he heard Sirius speak about his family. He truly hated Walburga Black with every inch of his being; even Snivellus Snape wasn’t half as evil as she was.
Sirius carried on, jovially, “I’m bloody starved, does Effie have any leftovers? I don’t think I’ve actually eaten in days.” James led them to the kitchen, where he opened the icebox in order to grab out some day-old curry and naan. He set about heating it, filling Sirius in on his summer, while Sirius did the same.
They chatted buoyantly, as they exchanged tales of mischief. Perhaps, they were a bit too enthusiastic for the time of night. But, James didn’t particularly care, he hadn’t heard from Sirius in weeks, and as any Hogwarts professor would be happy to confirm: a bored James Potter was a troublesome one. There was a lot to fill his mate in on, even in the dead of night.
There was a brief shuffle near the entrance way, before an elderly witch appeared in the kitchen.
Euphemia Potter, clad in a fluffy pink dressing gown and slippers, raised her wand at the pair before she registered that the apparent threat was her teenaged son and his best friend, “Merlin's beard, Jamie! I thought you boys were burglars.”
James snickered, “A rotten pair of burglars we’d make, talking so loudly. Sorry to wake you, Mama.”
She dropped her wand to swat at his hair before she turned and beamed, “Sirius, love! My dear, we’ve missed you so sorely this summer, James has been so restless without his bhaee,” she crossed the space to kiss his cheek as he awkwardly received her hug, “How are you?” She stroked tenderly at his cheekbone just beneath his blackened eye.
He floundered for a moment, unsure as always of how to receive her motherly affection, before he beamed right back at her, face lighting up like a firecracker, “I’ve missed you too, Effie,” he held a pale, skinny hand around her deep brown, bangle-covered wrist where it rested on his face, “I wish I could’ve spent the summer here,” The timer went off on the magical stove and James withdrew the food, “I’ve bloody missed your cooking.”
Despite his words, James watched Sirius pick at his food carefully and slowly, barely making a dent.
Effie had gone back to bed with a promise of making flapjacks for the occasion in the morning. James stared carefully at his friend, watching as he tore the bread up smaller and smaller, neglecting to eat any of it. He watched as wide, gray eyes dashed from side to side and his leg jiggled up and down.
He seemed even less himself than he usually did after a summer at Grimmauld Place. Something was wrong.
“What happened?” James asked as casually as he could, which was not very casual at all. He tripped over his words and nearly face planted; James Potter was not known for his subtlety.
Sirius looked up and met James’ hazel eyes, he seemed much older than he had been the last time James had seen him on the Hogwarts Express. He looked back down, uncomfortable under James’ scrutinizing gaze.
“The summer was a bit shite… Lots of talk about finding my future bride,” Sirius answered and James gaped.
“Bride?!” He spewed indignantly, “We’re fifteen years old!” He squawked, running a hand through his terminally disheveled black locks. The result surely looked a bit like a ruffled porcupine.
Sirius just sighed deeply, “Yes, well, in the Sacred Twenty Eight it is customary to marry at seventeen. Got to create the perfect heir to the Black fortune early, don’t I? Mummy dearest wants me in peak condition when I procreate some other disgusting brat to rule the court.” He said it all lazily, like it was a joke, like it didn’t bother him.
James knew better.
“Merlin, mate, I’m so sorry. That’s complete shit. Do you…. Do you have any idea who it is?” He pushed on bravely.
Sirius looked up at the ceiling, snorting, “They won’t let me in on any of the intimate details. Apparently my opinion is unwanted on the topic of who I bloody marry or if I bloody marry. But, a few families made some stops through the hell house. The Greengrasses, the Rosiers, the Carrows,” he took a deep breath in, “and the Averys- but I’d rather fucking off myself than marry any of the bints in those families. I don’t care how pure their blood is. They’re all cows.”
James snorted, “You’re not wrong about Rosier and Carrow, they’re both absolute horrors. But, Adelade Avery is bloody gorgeous, even though she’s evil, and Fiona Greengrass isn’t so bad.”
Sirius grunted, shoving his plate away, “Just because they’re not so bad doesn’t mean I want to spend the rest of my life with them. Can we just go to bed? I really don’t want to talk about it.”
James frowned, clearing away the mostly full plate, “Yea, alright mate.”
Scorched Earth
It was still too hot when Sirius woke up.
The sun beat down hard and harsh through James’s attic window. Sirius twitched, peeling the sheet away from his sweaty torso. James snuffled into his pillow beside him.
Sirius got up, stretching his back. He was sore all over from his little journey yesterday- he had spilled from the cellar to the front door and ran for at least two miles before he felt like it was safe to call for the night bus.
He crossed the room, looking at himself in the mirror. His torso was a bit boney and gaunt, his hair was lank, his lips were dry and his black eye was now a rancid yellowish green (thanks to the potions James had forced down his throat). Frankly, he looked like shit. He looked like a boy who had spent two days locked in a cellar after being pelted with a candlestick.
His skin felt itchy at the thought of it. He wanted to change that.
Sirius looked back at James. He was snoring lightly into the pillows, his warm, dark skin starkly contrasting against the white of the sheets. He looked innocent and vulnerable without his glasses on.
It was a rare occurrence for any of the boys he shared a dormitory with to wake up before James Potter. But Sirius had always had a strange sleep pattern and he was feeling particularly restless. Sirius felt he had two options; he could either form some type of attack or he could let his best mate sleep.
The choice was painfully obvious.
Sirius snatched up James’s specs, sitting on the messy bedside table, and stuck them into a random desk drawer. Sight privileges revoked for now, James could find them later. Sirius grinned, thinking of James stumbling about in an attempt to find his eyewear.
He then walked to the large bay window, looking out on the Potter’s impressive yard. Effie kept a lovely garden, bright and full and only sometimes trampled on by James.
On either side of the grass was a Quidditch ring, that James often coerced his friends into scrimaging on. James had admitted the night before that Marlene McKinnon had played numerous one-on-one matches throughout the summer together. This irritated Sirius to no end, as Marlene was brilliant at Quidditch but hardly ever played due to her mum’s instruction.
She and Sirius had become quite close over the past few years but they’d never actually been able to scrimmage together, since Sirius was always trapped away in London over the summers when Marlene’s mum actually allowed her to have some fun.
He tried not to let his bitter jealousy bleed out, knowing it wasn’t his friends fault that they lived down the road from each other and were able to keep eachother company doing the things they enjoyed. It wasn’t their fault Sirius suffered in their absence.
Beyond the further ring lay a thick forest, which Sirius knew contained a lovely path leading to a quaint pond. The perfect place for a discrete morning smoke.
He grabbed a quill off of the bed stand, dipping it into spilled ink before he placed the quill to James’ back. He sketched off a painfully accurate phallic figure before abandoning the quill and getting dressed.
Sirius threw on his muggle jeans- the very reason he’d been nearly bludgeoned with table decor- and slipped on one of James’s clean t-shirts before slinking down the stairs.
It was very early. It had to be, for James to still be sleeping, let alone Effie and Monty. Well, Monty might be in bed more often than not recently. Sirius shook off the thought. He looked at the clock- 5:30 am. He’d barely slept more than an hour. It was fine.
It was the best hour of sleep he’d had since he left Hogwarts.
He shut the back door, quietly and began his trek across the burnt grass. It was hot. The sun beat down on him unrelentingly, and the yellowed, rough lawn was unforgiving on his bare feet. He thought about something James had said offhandedly the night before; there was a drought, all summer long apparently. There hadn’t been rain in months.
Sirius wouldn’t know, the last time he’d been outside was June. Grimmauld Place was always unbearably cold.
He passed Effie’s garden, it looked parched and bare. A skeleton of what it had been last summer.
As he continued to walk, he thought about the previous summer. It was nice. His mother had been away with his father for two weeks. Sirius had stayed with the Potters under the guise of taking a hunting trip with Uncle Alphard, who had readily lied for him.
Uncle Al was always good for a guilt trip.
Sirius made it to the trees and entered the forest, feeling a cool relief wash over him as he walked under their shade.
The summer before James and Sirius had played one-on-one Quidditch for hours. They’d set up a rig to hit Monty- who had been spry and mischievous just a year prior- with water balloons. They’d raced about in the woods, daring each other to climb to a higher branch and jump into the pond.
Remus had come to stay for the second week Sirius was there. That was even better. The three of them camped in the circular clearing deep in the woods that Sirius was currently walking through. They made a fire and Remus and James ate nearly an entire package of muggle mushmellows between them. They stayed up so late that James got delirious and started speaking Hindi. Sirius thought it was hilarious and had a conversation to himself in French, while Remus rolled his eyes and muttered some Welsh swears.
Sirius reached the pond. He sat heavily, pulling a crumpled pack of Consulate Menthol’s out of his pocket. Realizing he had neither lighter nor wand he sighed and focussed on snapping his fingers.
A spark appeared on the tip of his digit, he held the fag to it, lighting up and inhaling deeply.
When they had camped, just a mile away from where Sirius sat at the water’s edge, James fell asleep first.
Remus had stayed up with Sirius until the sky began to bleed pink and orange. They had sat together, side by side for hours and hours. They spoke about stupid stuff, and not stupid stuff, and then they didn’t speak. They just sat and watched as night became dawn and a new day came.
He missed Remus. He inhaled abruptly, shutting that thought down. It was mostly because he hadn’t been able to send letters since July. He’d missed James too, and Marlene, and Pete.
Sirius stared at the water, sucking in a pull every once in a while. The quiet was nice sometimes, but he wished he had woken James up. He’d been surrounded by quiet for so long, he’d been alone for so many days. He put out his fag and lit another one.
His mind inadvertently went to Adam Avery, who had been at the Black’s the week prior, when his elder sister, Arabella, had been paraded around as a prized pig to become Sirius’s future wife.
Avery was a git, but a bit less deranged than most of his Slytherin house mates. He’d told Sirius that he’d been made the fifth year prefect for his house. He then proceeded to tell Sirius a lot of other things, but he couldn’t think about that now.
Sirius had forgotten about the prefect thing until he was nearly finished with his second cigarette. He wondered which of the birds in Gryffindor had gotten it.
There were only five of them: Marlene McKinnon, Mary Macdonald, Florence Bagman, Dorcas Meadowes and Lily Evans. Gryffindor had the smallest house in fifth year, considering only the four Marauders inhabited the boys dormitory.
He thought on it, surely it wasn’t Marls- who had a penchant for breaking the rules nearly as thoroughly and impressively as Sirius himself- or Macdonald- that was nearly laughable, considering how poorly she had done on the spring exams- or Baggy- her only authority was over gossip- so it had to be Meadowes or Evans. He kind of hoped it was Dorcas, she was a swot, but she kept to herself at least. Lily Evans was nosey as hell and so fucking bossy, gods only knew what would happen to the lads if she got herself on a bit of a power trip.
He dropped his cigarette with a jolt. He’d completely forgotten- one of the lads would have had to be made a prefect as well. He let out a sudden snort, gods, the professors must have had a fucking collective conniption trying to decide which one of the four boys in Gryffindor fifth year- which one of The Marauders- would have to be a responsible figure of authority.
He lit a third cigarette laughing to himself. He had a good idea of who it was, and he knew that they’d be absolute shite at it. Any of them would have been.
James would have bragged about it last night if it had been him. It wouldn’t be so unlikely, considering he was top of the class in most subjects (like Sirius, himself). However, James was also an annoying little shit that liked to cause chaos. You’d have to be off your rocker to give James Potter a position of power, he was already an arrogant tosser with too much energy to expend.
It was well and truly laughable to imagine that Sirius’ name had even been uttered in the discussion. While he was certainly smart, he was hardly a good student. He spent more time in detention than anyone else at school. If Sirius had become prefect, he wouldn’t have gone to a single meeting, rather he would abuse the fuck out of his power and take so many points from Snape that Slytherin would be in the negatives.
It was almost even more outrageous to think that Peter could be considered. Little Peter Pettigrew, with a backbone as sturdy as boiled spaghetti. He did laugh a little at the thought.
“What’s so funny?” James’s voice came from behind him and he jolted a bit. Sirius raised the cigarette to his lips cheekily as James made a face, the healthy fucker.
He’d found his glasses and put a shirt on. The dick was probably still there, though.
Sirius took another hit, grinning around it, “Moony’s a fucking prefect.”
James furrowed his thick, dark brows together in confusion as he sat next to Sirius, also barefoot and still in only boxers and a shirt.
“What- oh fuck!” He whipped his head to look at Sirius, who was already laughing, “Oh Merlin! Did he owl you?”
Sirius snorted, taking another drag, “No, but who the bloody fuck else would it be? Pete? Me?”
James started to laugh, “Oh hell. Can you imagine how long they deliberated over that decision? I bet Minnie petitioned just to give it to a fourth year rather than any of us.” He coughed, swatting at Sirius’ cigarette, “Get that shit away from me, you’ll ruin my lungs along with yours.”
His smile slid from goofy to some semblance of sly, “I can’t be running my team properly if I’m hacking up a lung.”
Sirius raised his eyebrows, “You made captain?” Genuine shock for James not having bragged sooner shot through him, and then he realized that of course James was going to spring that on him randomly.
He was grinning like mad and Sirius couldn’t help grin back, “Congrats, Potty… looks like The Marauders have a bit of power this year, ey?”
James chuckled, “I’m just as shocked as you are.”
“I’m not shocked, you’ll be a good captain. Just a bit surprised, there’s still a few players older than you even though Bagman took half the team when he graduated. Miles told me he’d never want to be captain, but do you think Longbottom will be pissed at you?” Sirius wondered, James shrugged but he looked unsettled.
He ran a hand through his unruly hair, “I don’t think so. Longbottom couldn’t really be pissed at a fly. And I was thinking he probably made Head Boy if he didn’t become captain.”
Sirius hummed in consideration, “True, he was a bit of a shoe in for that. I’m happy for you though, mate. If anyone deserves it it’s you; McGonagall knows that James Potter cares more about Quidditch than anyone else in the school.”
He felt a bit inadequate but he didn’t let it show. Truth be told, Sirius would love to be even half as passionate about something as James was about Quidditch. Sirius has nothing but resentment in his bones, and he hated himself for it.
Earning something out of sheer merit was a foreign concept to him. He brushed it off; there were bigger fish to fry.
James stood suddenly, “C’mon, mum promised breakfast, and we’ve got to owl Remus to take the piss.”
Sirius stubbed his cigarette on the yellow grass, it smeared a dark stain as a small trail of smoke slithered towards the trees overhead.
Burnt on the Pavement
The Potter estate had wards set up around it.
They were a fairly high profile family- Fleamont Potter, potions expert, creator of Sleekeazy potion and known, proud blood traitor, Euphemia Potter, former Hit-Witch, equal rights activist, and known, proud blood traitor, and James Potter, generally annoying specky git and known, proud blood traitor. They were fairly big targets, and considering the civil unrest that had been brewing the past few years, it was smart to be cautious.
Sirius Black loved those damn wards. They kept him inside, and kept his family outside.
In the two days he’d spent with James, he was sure that his parents had noticed his escape from the cellar. Too bad the pricks couldn’t do anything about it, while he was safe within the confines of the Potter property.
James was twitchy though. He wanted to meet up with Pete and Remus in Diagon Alley. And Sirius did too, but he had really been hoping to finish off the last week of summer without returning to Grimmauld Place.
He really did not have strong enough self preservation, as it turned out. Remus owled, and so they went.
Sirius made sure he had all of his things before they left the house. He kissed Effie on the cheek, and gave Fleamont a shaky hug as he sat up in their bed. He tucked his wand into his pocket, and they were off.
Remus Lupin really fucking hated his friends.
He came to this conclusion approximately three minutes after greeting them in the Leaky Cauldron.
James came in first, dressed in muggle clothes, tanned and bright as ever, “Moony! Come Give mummy a hug!” He bounded over as loudly as he did anything, throwing himself into Remus. Git.
“Bloody hell, you’ve grown. Can you see me from up there?” James squinted through his glasses and tilted his head, as if Remus was near the ceiling, rather than hovering a mere two inches above him.
“Shut up, Potter,” he ruffled James’s hair, shoving him off. James let out a bright laugh. He had missed him, truly.
Then came Sirius. He approached in his usual fashion- a lazily elegant stalk.
He did not look nearly so bright as James did. He looked pale, and thin, and maybe a touch (extremely) exhausted. That did not stop him, however, from being a massive dick.
“Well, look who we have here. Blimey, if it’s not Remus Lupin, resident prefect.” He lulled derisively. Git.
Remus had really hoped they hadn’t pieced it together yet. Unfortunately, despite their best efforts to come across as dumb as they looked, they were clever boys.
He sighed deeply. It was going to be a long year.
“Yes, I’m a bloody prefect. I don’t want to hear another word about it. They’re mental for giving it to me, but I suppose I was the best of a very unfortunate pool of options.”
Sirius gripped his shoulder, grinning, “Only because you don’t get caught as often.”
“Only because you’re quieter about the trouble you’re causing,” James chirped from his other side.
“Only because the professors seem to delusionally believe that I hold the ability to reign you two in,” Remus shook his head, biting back his own smile, “I’m not going to abuse my power for you lot, you know.”
Sirius barked out a laugh, now he looked bright, gray eyes glistening, “Yes you bloody well are. Don’t lie to yourself, Moons.”
Remus sighed and resigned himself to his fate, “Where’d Pete say he’d meet us?”
“Fortescues, but not for a half hour. Can we pop over to the Menagerie first?” James asked, running a hand through his hair, “Lady Winifred's cage melted, I need to get her a new one.”
Remus eyed him curiously, “How on earth did her cage melt?” He asked, as he led the way to the Magical Menagerie.
Sirius and James exchanged a very unsubtle look, “There was a minor fire,” Sirius replied jovially, throwing an arm around Remus’ shoulder.
This was awkward, because, like James, Sirius was about two inches shorter than him. It was also awkward because Remus was walking much faster than his maniac friends.
“I don’t believe there’s such a thing as a minor fire,” Remus rolled his eyes, “You’re lucky you didn’t kill Lady, James.”
Sirius rolled his eyes and pulled out a fag, leaning against the building in a sure fire signal that he would not be entering with them. Despite being a bit of an animal whisperer, Sirius was weary of too many owls in one place. It was the byproduct of many attacks from his rather nasty family Eagle Owl at mail delivery time.
James frowned as they reached the door, “Blimey, I dunno what I’d do if Lady died. Might actually have a melt down, she’s the love of my life.”
He opened the door and was promptly toppled over by a short, red thing with a lot of bags.
James hit the cobblestones, head cushioned only by Remus’s trainer. The red thing landed promptly on top of him, cushioned only by the wiry skeleton of one James Potter.
Sirius laughed so hard he choked on his smoke.
“I’m so so sorry!” The red thing gushed, scrambling to get up. Remus recognized the voice of the red thing, and realized that this encounter was about to become very amusing.
Lily Evans, the red thing in question, was currently lying completely on top of James Potter’s very dumbfound body. She pushed up on her forearms and her green eyes widened in shock as she took in the specs and the hair and the general form of James that was in her very close proximity.
“Potter.” Lily blanched.
James blinked up at her, “Evans.”
Sirius was still guffawing to their side. Remus looked down at them, and decided the show had gone on long enough, despite his amusement, “Need a hand?”
Lily startled, as if she didn’t notice Remus at all, “Yes, please,” She struggled to get her freckled arm up, still weighed down by the mass of her bags.
Remus took her hand, and Sirius, still laughing, grabbed under her other arm to drag her to her feet.
She steadied herself, looking mildly alarmed, long red locks a mess, clothes disheveled. And then she looked down.
James was still sprawled on the ground, Sirius was looking at him with glee- Remus knew that James would not be living this down for a long time. Remus snorted, “Up you get, James.” He punctuated with a gentle nudge of his trainer to James’s neck.
He clamored inelegantly to his feet, “Well,” he started by running a hand through his hair once he found his balance, “Fancy running into you, Evans. I didn’t know you had an owl,” she looked at him with narrowed eyes, like she wasn’t quite sure why he was talking.
“I don’t,” she said shortly as she turned to Remus, “Congrats on making prefect. I think we’ll make a good team.” She smiled softly, and Remus secretly thought so too. It was better to have those thoughts privately, for Lily Evans was a known enemy to the Marauders.
He smiled back at her, it probably looked more like a grimace, “How’d you know it was me? My letter didn’t say which one of you girls I was paired with.”
At that Lily let out a laugh, “Please, as if it would be one of them,” she shoved a thumb towards a red faced James and a still laughing Sirius, “Or Peter.”
They all let out a snort at that, “See you on the Express,” she called as she walked away into the crowd, becoming a red thing once again with the distance.
“Bloody hell that bird is-” James started, but he was interrupted by a crack.
Sirius dropped his cigarette in surprise and Remus nearly toppled James over again.
The Black family house elf, Kreature, stood beside them, “Oh for fucks-” but Sirius did not get to continue. Kreature had grabbed onto his sleeve and disapperated the both of them with another loud crack.
James groaned, “This day is shite.” He walked into the Menagerie, finally.
Remus agreed as he followed, “Only five more days, mate. Then we’ll all be back on the train.”