ODETTE

“Of course I do!” Remus suddenly exploded, standing from the chair and holding his palms to his temples. “Don’t even—don’t you dare for a minute insinuate that I don’t miss her with every fibre of my fucking being! You have no idea what it was like when you were in Azkaban—when I thought I’d lost both of you! How much I wished you both were here!”

Sirius scowled. “Imagine how I felt from my cell!”

Remus’ hands trembled as he shook his head, turning from Sirius. “Save the story, Sirius. I’ve heard it a hundred times before.”

“You’re such a dick.”

“You want me to break the law, Sirius! You’d like for us to go against the Order’s wishes to see—to go and see her, and fuck, Sirius, Merlin knows how much I’d kill to see her again, but we can’t! Horrible, terrible things happen to wizards who meddle with time! We were given strict orders—to retrieve James’ cloak. We can’t let anyone see us, Sirius!”

Sirius felt like he could rip his hair from his head. Instead, he bit his knuckles. “But horrible things happened to us anyway, Remus! How the fuck could it get any worse than it’s ended up? There’s another war raging on. I went to Azkaban, you spent thirteen years alone, and Y/N is fucking dead! She’s gone, and you can’t even say her fucking name!” He watched Remus’ face go completely white. “Go on, say it, Remus! Because I haven’t heard you say her name since she was—since she was here with us!”

Remus’ fists curled. “Fuck off, will you?”

“I said your names every single day when I was in Azkaban! I refused to forget any of it. Any of what we had! Just say it, Remus!” Sirius’ voice rose to yelling, and he stood from the bed. “Go on. It’s Y/N—in case you fucking forgot. Say Y/N’s na—”

Remus caught Sirius’ wrists when Sirius went to shove him, his large hands gripping him hard. “You’ll be back in Azkaban if we were caught! And I’d be in the cell next to yours! Is that what you want?” “I don’t care—”

“Of course you don’t, but one of us needs to think rationally. You said you’d be fine doing this when Moody asked! You said—”

Sirius jerked away from Remus, his face stony and his glare cold. “Fuck off, Remus.”

Remus rolled his eyes and quickly shuffled for the pack of cigarettes in his coat pocket. He watched Sirius stalk back over to the bed and chuck himself in it, yanking the duvet up to his shoulders. He felt the strain in his chest and his throat, his eyes growing incredibly hot as he propped open the inn’s window. He lit his cigarette and hung his head out into the cold air, and only then did he let the tears drip down his face.

He glared at the snowy pavement, seething with rage—furious that Sirius had put him in such an awful position, angry at you for no longer being here, and absolutely sickened at the fact that he had the time turner around his neck. He couldn’t use it for the one thing in the world that he wanted. 

He glanced over at the vibrant pink and green sweet shop. Honeydukes was always the first place you went to, every Hogsmeade trip, and you always used to get the same thing—toffees and a chocolate frog. Across from Honeydukes was the bench where the three of you had drunkenly admitted your feelings for one another back in your sixth year. He stubbed his cigarette out on the windowsill hard and then lit a second one. 

 When he finished and shut the window, he turned, and the room was cold and smelled of nicotine. He pulled off his clothes and got into the bed next to Sirius, careful not to touch him—apprehensive that the feeling of their skin touching would only fuel their furies. 

Sirius’ voice was thick with clogged tears when he spoke a few minutes later, filling the heavy silence. “We don’t work without her, Remus. You know that.”

He bit the inside of his cheek and didn’t say anything for a long while. He thought Sirius might have fallen asleep, and perhaps that was how he gained the courage to speak. 

“I miss Y/N all of the time,” he whispered, barely audible. “I miss her first thing in the morning, and the last thing at night. I think about what the three of us had back then. It was the last time I was actually happy. And we all took it for granted.”

“We were idiots,” Sirius whispered back croakily. “Young, and we all thought that made us fucking invincible or something.”

“It should have woken us up when Marlene died.”

“They—” Sirius’ voice cracked. “Peter was always going to have to kill Y/N if he wanted to frame me and make you go away. There was nothing we could have done.”

Remus’ fists clenched. He scrunched his eyes shut. “She loved Peter.”

Sirius choked. “What he did to her—” He felt physical pain shudder through his system. “The state he left her in—He was fucking brutal, Remus.”

“I know,” Remus whispered, his eyes growing fuzzy, his brain numb. 

“She didn’t deserve that. She was still—she was alive when I—”

“I know,” Remus said, harder. “I already know.”

Sirius lifted his shaky hands as if he could still see the blood on them, even in the dark. Remus reached over to encase one of them, and he tugged his hand against his chest. Sirius shook as he cried, wriggling closer to Remus, sobbing into his chest. Remus felt himself begin to crumble, too. 

“She was only twenty-one.”

And that was enough for Remus to really sob. They were in their late thirties now. Remus was aware they were never supposed to get this old without you. You had always spoken of your future together, every word as optimistic as the last. You were supposed to be here. He would let you take his place any day. He’d let you and Sirius have this at the drop of a hat—you deserved to see the world beyond the first war. 

“Just one more time,” Remus whispered, and he grasped Sirius’ hand tighter in both of his, moving them upward from his chest to the time turner sitting around his neck, engulfing the cool metal. 

Sirius’ eyes were wide and wet with shock. “Remus?”

Remus spun the time turner back and back and back—all the way to 1978, before they had become soldiers for the Order.

── .✦

Remus inhaled the familiar smell of the Hogwarts corridors. He’d been here only a few years ago at his temporary position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, but somehow, this felt different. Perhaps it was because Sirius was by his side, or maybe it had something to do with the fact that they had gone back to the 1970s. He swallowed as he glanced around at the empty halls, his expression nearly matching Sirius’. 

“Merlin,” Sirius muttered. “This is fucking insane.”

Remus nodded in agreement. “This was a bad idea.”

Sirius swatted him hard. “Are you fucking kidding me, Remus? She’s here! She’s in this building right now!” “And we’re nearly forty years—”

“-I’m thirty-six, actually—”

“We will not blend in with everybody else here! We’re going to be noticed immediately,” Remus worried. “And Dumbledore will quickly realise we’re from the future, and we’ll be hurled off to—”

Sirius grabbed Remus’ wrist and yanked him closer to an alcove despite the lack of anybody around them. “Okay, so we’ll sneak into Slughorn’s classroom. He’s bound to have some sort of de-ageing potion.”

Remus scratched the back of his neck anxiously. “This is so wrong, Sirius.”

“I’m not leaving here without seeing her, Remus,” he told him firmly, and Sirius took off in the direction of the dungeons, as if it hadn’t been twenty years since they were last students here. 

It was rather easy for Remus and Sirius to find the correct potion in Slughorn’s storage cupboard. Sirius and James used to have their fair share of fun experimenting and swapping things over to cause chaos for early-morning potion lessons. Remus watched Sirius throw his head back and down the potion as if it were a shot at the bar, his face scrunching at the taste.

Sirius wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, ridding the purple residue, and he blinked at Remus strangely. “Well? Do I look any different?”

Remus shook his head. “No, you—”

Sirius suddenly jerked forward with a violent cough, one of his hands grabbing onto Remus. Remus’ hands gripped him, trying to keep him upright, his dark eyes wide. 

“Pads!” Remus panicked. “Shit, are you—”

He watched the silvers that had been starting to appear on the back of Sirius’ head turn black again. His shoulders seemed to broaden ever so slightly, his body rejuvenating after the thirteen years spent malnourished in prison. Remus gawked, helping Sirius back up when he’d stopped trembling.

“Sirius?” He whispered. “Are you alright?”

Sirius groaned and touched his forehead. “Yeah, I think so.” His voice. Remus felt his heart skip a beat. He grasped Sirius’ head, forcing him to look at him, and Remus felt everything inside him freeze over and then promptly ignite. Gone were the first signs of wrinkles around his eyes and the bits of silver that had started to make an appearance on his head. Sirius’ stubble was gone, replaced with smooth, clear skin—his eyes youthful, his face a little fuller.

“Did it work?”

Remus couldn’t help but laugh. “It fucking worked, Pads. It actually worked.”

“It’s your turn, Remus. It’s your turn. Hurry!”

Sirius spent the next ten minutes looking at himself in the reflection in one of Slughorn’s cauldrons, while the effects of Remus’ took place. The coat he was wearing suddenly felt looser, his back and hip far less stiff. Remus moved Sirius out of the way to look, touching his scarred face in awe at the youthful man looking back at him. 

“How long does this last?” He whispered in awe.

Sirius reached over to touch Remus’ face. “A few hours. Merlin, Rem. You look so young, it’s terrifying. We were so young when all of this was happening.”

Remus swallowed and touched Sirius’ hands. They were smooth. “I’m scared,” he suddenly admitted out loud—he didn’t even realise he was going to blurt it, and hadn’t a clue that he was really feeling so anxious. “Part of me isn’t sure I can handle seeing her, Sirius.”

Sirius exhaled and splayed his fingers broader on Remus’ face, as if to cup as much of him as he could in his palm. “You can do it, Remus.”

“What if she asks questions, Sirius?” Remus whispered painfully. “I can’t spend these moments lying to her. I can’t—I don’t know if I can do this knowing it’s the last time I’ll see her. I accepted years ago that I never got to say goodbye. I can’t say goodbye to her tonight, Sirius. I ca—” He was cut off by a pair of lips pressing against his own. Remus hesitated for a moment before he kissed back, and he was startled by the familiarity of kissing a much younger Sirius. It almost felt wrong, and yet it felt like no time had passed, as if he was back home. He pressed his hands to Sirius’ arms as if to physically force himself off of him. 

“Shall we find her?” Sirius pleaded breathlessly.

Remus nodded, his chest tightening. 

── .✦

“It’s only eleven at night, so chances are, everybody’s in the common room,” Sirius said as they headed up one of the staircases. 

Remus pulled a face. “Yes, including us, Sirius. How are we going to get past that one, hm?”

Sirius chewed on his bottom lip. “Errr—” “Mr Lupin!” Madame Pomfrey exclaimed, and both men jumped as they turned to face the older woman. “Did I or did I not tell you to stay put exactly where you were? You shouldn’t be moving with your leg the way it is!”

Remus exchanged a panicked glance with Sirius. “Er, I’m sorry, Madame Pomfrey. It’s only, I’ve been feeling better, you see, and Sirius was just walking me back up the dorms. I’d like to sleep in my own bed tonight.”

“Mr Black, you should also be in bed!” Madame Pomfrey scowled. “You’re in no position to be helping Mr Lupin yourself! Where on earth is your splint?”

It dawned on Remus very quickly which full moon had just occurred. He remembered it all too well, with a sick feeling in his stomach still to this day. He had badly hurt Sirius in his Animagus form, and Sirius had ended up with a snapped arm and a broken nose. It was the Christmas break, and you had stayed to not only keep Remus company over the full moon but also because you would rather be with them than back home.

 If Remus was remembering correctly, you were one of the only students to stay that year. The war was raging on, and people didn’t feel as safe at Hogwarts anymore. James’ father was starting to get sick, and he wanted to take Lily back to them for their first Christmas as a couple. 

“Miss Y/L/N will come and see you boys first thing in the morning, she told you herself,” Madame Pomfrey scolded. Remus flinched, and Sirius nearly swayed in his spot. “So get back down to the infirmary right now. I’m heading back in ten minutes—I expect to see you back in your beds, and you with that splint on, Mr Black!” She turned away from them, marching down the corridor. “For Merlin’s sake, these children…”

“Fuck,” Sirius said, holding his hand against his pounding heart as soon as they were out of sight of the school nurse. “That was so fucking close. How lucky was that?”

“Lucky,” Remus said, though he was hardly as amused as Sirius. “Come on, before I make us turn around.”

They hurried up the stairs even quicker than they had been going before. Remus took three steps at a time easily, though his legs felt like lead, as if they wanted to plant to the ground and stay there. When they reached the portrait of the fat lady, Sirius groaned.

“It’s you,” he said distastefully. 

“Not the password!” She sang to him. 

“We don’t have time for this. If you’d be so kind as to let us in,” Sirius said with a forced smile, his teeth practically gritted. “You know who we are.”

“You could be anybody!” The Fat Lady argued. 

“Do I look like anybody to you?” Sirius huffed. “I am Sirius Black, you know exactly who—”

The portrait swung open, causing the Fat Lady to scream unexpectedly. Her shrieks dimmed in both their ears, and their mouths dropped open. Remus swallowed thickly, his heart nearly coming out of his throat. Sirius was as silent as Remus had ever seen him. 

You stood there, wearing one of Remus’ old knitted jumpers—one he still had at his home to this day, and the plaid bed shorts you swore matched it. You looked just as beautiful as they both remembered you, though your face was yanked down with the heavy weight of concern. Remus felt like he had been sliced open. 

“I thought I heard you two bickering out here,” you said uncertainly, your furrowed brows scanning them both over. “Oh, Merlin, I am so glad you’re both okay.”

You hopped from the small stair and landed with your arms thrown around both their shoulders. Your touch was all to familiar, like hearing a song you had completely forgotten about, and fuck, you smelled of the oils you ran through the ends of your hair each evening, and the moisturiser you always used to “bribe” him or Sirius to slather on your skin (they were more than happy to do it for you, they just liked when you asked). 

Remus thought he might be sick as he wrapped his arms around you, too. Sirius was as stiff as a board, his eyes startled as if somebody had just murdered his entire family in front of him. 

“Sirius,” you murmured as you pulled away, and your hand touched his face. He flinched back to life. “Are you okay, darling?”

Sirius choked a laugh and then began to laugh harder. 

Remus anxiously grasped the back of Sirius’ neck, squeezing it gently. “I-I think maybe he’s still in shock. From last night.”

You nodded and traced your hand down so that it met with his. You squeezed his fingers. “Come on then. I didn’t know Madame Pomfrey was going to let you both out tonight; otherwise, I might have asked the House Elves to prepare us all a nice dinner. I already ate something, but I could maybe—”

“We’re fine, thank you, Y/N,” Remus murmured and followed you into the common room. It was easier to talk to you when he was covering for Sirius. If he’d had to speak purely for himself, he was sure he might be in the same boat. 

Remus had visited your grave for more years than he had known you alive, and yet there you stood, walking around, smiling and doting over them as if nothing was wrong. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He was sure he’d wake up, and it would be a dream. 

“Y/N,” Sirius suddenly rasped from where he sat on the sofa. You quickly turned to him. “Y/N.”

He touched your face and then stroked your hair behind your ear. His eyes were darting all over you, as if he was looking for any sign of injury. He looked down at his hands after he had touched you, and he found no blood this time. Last time, his skin had been stained with it. He’d woken up in his cell covered in the crimson that used to keep you alive, and they did not let him scrub it off of himself for weeks. 

“Sirius,” you repeated, and cocked your hide to the side with a small smile. “Do you want a cup of tea or something?” You reached up and touched his forehead. “You are quite warm,” you told him. 

“He’s fine,” Remus said pointedly. “How are you?”

You thought for a moment and then sighed, your face contorting into a pinched smile. “I’m okay. Better now that you two are here. It was awful without you last night—it’s really scary in the tower alone.”

Remus felt the guilt start to eat him. You’d been alone when it had happened. You had most likely been the most terrified you had ever been in your entire life. 

“I missed you both,” you said, and ran a hand through Sirius’ hair. 

He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. 

“I missed you, too,” Sirius whispered, and his hand reached up to cup yours over his face.

You furrowed your brows at him. “Why are you being so solemn, hm? You’re concerning me a little bit, love. And you’re being awfully standoffish over there, too, Rem.”

Sirius shook his head quickly. “No, no. I think—I think the full moon just reminded us that it’s scary when we’re all apart. And that—and that anything could happen. We’re just glad nothing happened to you.”

“Because I wasn’t stupid enough to chase after Rem when he clearly wanted to be alone,” you chuckled at Sirius and leaned forward to kiss him. “Always have to insert yourself into places you don’t belong, don’t you?”

Sirius frowned. Remus nearly chuckled at the irony. She was right, and Sirius never grew out of it. 

“It’s not a bad thing, sweetheart,” you told him affectionately. “Just don’t like seeing you get hurt because of it. It’s bad enough when Remus has torn himself apart every month. Don’t need both of you in there.”

Both of them were in awe at your kindness. They had forgotten that people like you existed. Someone who was so understanding of them—someone who saw all of their flaws and loved them for them. You were so young, and yet so emotionally intelligent. Neither had met anybody like you before. 

“It won’t happen again,” Sirius whispered. 

“I’ll believe that when I see it!” You called with a laugh as you headed over to the staircase. “Come on then, we should head to bed. It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow! It’d be nice to take a walk through Hogsmeade if you’re both feeling up to it. We’ll need to check your hip first, Rem.”

Remus felt his heart lurch. He grasped Sirius when he stood to follow you eagerly. 

“We might stay down here for a little bit, baby,” Remus said as softly as he could, his brown eyes nearly melting in the warm lights of the Gryffindor common room. “We’re not tired yet, but we’ll follow you up.”

Sirius pulled away as you frowned. “But—but I don’t want to sleep without you again,” you said. “Please, Rem. I don’t mind you’re awake. You can read or—or do whatever you’d like, but I just want to sleep with you next to me.”

“Of course we’ll come up with you, sweetheart,” Sirius said, and turned back to give Remus a wicked grin. “Come on, Remus. Don’t be so ridiculous.”

Remus could have smacked Sirius. The look on your face was enough to make his heart burst in his chest. His logic was battling with his feelings, and he knew the right thing to do for all of you was to leave now, but he couldn’t force himself. He found his long legs carrying him up the familiar staircase that led to their old dormitory. You pushed open the door like it was yours, and quickly rushed to jump into Sirius’ bed, which had been transfigured into a king-size at some point. 

You wriggled under the covers. Remus glanced at Sirius and saw him staring at the bed at the end of the room. James’ bed. His Quidditch kit was chucked over his chair, a pair of red Converse by the end of the bed as if he had been there only the other day—because he had been. He bit down on his bottom lip and gently pulled Sirius over to you, who hadn’t noticed the strange behaviour from the boys. 

Sirius felt his face melt, and he was quick to head over, kneeling onto the bed and climbing into your side. 

“You need to put your pyjamas on!” You told him. “Both of you, hurry.”

He laughed as your hands half-heartedly pushed him away. He opened the drawer at his bedside and then the one beneath. He couldn’t quite remember where he put them until—

“Idiot,” you muttered and threw a pair of plaid trousers at his head. “Under your pillow, remember?”

“Right,” Sirius said, and ripped his shirt from his body, then his trousers. 

He pulled on the pyjamas and glanced over at Remus, who was doing the same. They were both moving like teenagers again, slightly more effortlessly than men in their late thirties. His gaze flickered to his own chest and his arms. He had the start of a couple of tattoos, but nowhere near as many as he got as soon as he had left Hogwarts. He felt naked.

“James sent an owl asking how you both were, by the way,” you said, and it was so casual to you, and yet so horrific for them to hear as they got dressed. “He said he feels bad for leaving while you were asleep, but I reminded him it’s not his fault. Oh, and Lily asked about you both, too.”

“We’ll owl them,” Remus said, his chest hollow, his smile fragile as he turned back to you and climbed into the bed. 

You were in the middle tonight, it seemed, and neither of them was complaining. It was where you often ended up, if Sirius wasn’t in a mood and desperately after the most attention. 

“Pete asked too,” you said, and all the blood left both their faces immediately. “He’s such a sweetheart, honestly, you two—he sent in a box of chocolates for you both. It’s got some of your favourites in it, Rem, but from the looks of it, he chose which ones went in himself. It’s got a note and everything, bless him.”

“Bless him?” Sirius retorted, his fists clenching the bedsheets.

He suddenly felt as sick as he did that day. He could see you lying on the kitchen floor of the house, which the three of you shared. Remus and Sirius weren’t talking to each other—they were arguing for the hundredth time that week, and you were being a fucking saint putting up with them. It had ended particularly awful that morning, with both of them accusing the other of being the traitor that the Order was searching for. Remus was off doing werewolf-related tasks for the Order, and Sirius went out for a ride on his motorbike. It was better than having to listen to you and your excuses for Remus.

He walked slowly up the path, dreading your kindness, but the sight of your front door knocked open enough to make him feel nauseous. He was lightheaded all the way through to the kitchen, where your record player had stopped singing and instead rested on a static pause. The sink was full of cold, soapy water, dishes half done, and you had baked something—he remembered the air was so sickly sweet that night. Cinnamon. He couldn’t stand that smell anymore. 

It had mixed with the scent of iron. He had nearly slipped on all of the blood. It was thick. It pooled over the tiles you used to dance on, it caked the hair he used to run his fingers through. Your dress was ripped, a slice down your arm that was obvious to him in seconds. Your chest was home to a massacre, and the kitchen knife you always used, because it was the sharpest, lay discarded feet away, painted crimson with your blood. Your wand had rolled beneath the table, your fingers still open like you were reaching for it.

You musn’t have gone down without a fight. The kitchen was a mess. 

He lay there for an hour next to you. He kept thinking about how this would be the last time he’d ever get to do it. Eventually, his howls dimmed, and he lay staring at the kitchen ceiling as lifelessly as you. Sirius dragged himself up from the floor. He needed to find James—see if James knew where Remus was. He needed Remus. Remus needed to know about you. Remus had no idea. 

Sirius had continued to sob when he leaned over and gently grasped your wrists. He settled for leaving them on top of your stomach, and his fingers shakily reached to close your eyelids. He hovered over you for a few more minutes, and gripping the skirt of your dress, bunching the material as silent sobs racked through his body. 

It took him another hour to get up. His legs felt like lead as he left you there. He wasn’t sure he was fully alive as he Apparated to the back of the Potter’s cottage, where they often snuck in and out to avoid being noticed. Sirius startled when he found the air had shifted, a dark green cloud smoking over James’ home, a snake coming from a skull. 

He knew it was Peter immediately. The Secret-Keeper. Of course it was. He had been the traitor the entire time. Whilst Remus and Sirius had been pointing fingers at each other, Peter had been sitting there, often next to you, and he had probably been plotting all of your deaths. Sirius thought of James. Lily. Harry. You. He thought of you, and he knew what he had to do. 

The rest of the night was such a blur to Sirius now. He remembered hunting down Peter in his Animagus form, using his sense of smell to realise he wasn’t too far. He found him down a Muggle street in London, trembling and shaking down an alleyway. He remembered having Peter pinned, he remembered seeing blood down Peter’s arms, and a splatter across his face. 

Peter himself was missing a couple of his fingers. You must have gotten him. Sirius remembered how furious he had been: that Peter had gotten away, and you were gone. 

He was so furious that he wasn’t thinking straight. He could only imagine your confusion, your hurt, and the agony you must have been in. He hurt Peter the Muggle way. He wanted him to hurt as much as he hurt you. Only, Peter seemed to be thinking more rationally— he drew his wand, and he created an explosion. 

It was so large that Sirius had dropped him, and by the time he’d looked back, Peter was in his rat form—gone. 

The Aurors arrested him near enough on the spot. He screamed and protested. He yanked at his chains and gritted his teeth as they told him he was going to be imprisoned for all of his crimes. He begged for Remus over and over again. His screams turned to laughter when he realised how easily he had been tricked by Peter Pettigrew. Everybody had underestimated him. Sirius himself had seen Peter as meek and underpowered. Sirius had lost absolutely everything in a matter of hours, and he had woken up that morning thinking the day would be no different from every other. 

He went manic. He screamed and screamed all night. He rattled the bars of his cage until somebody Crucio’d him. He wondered if he was in as much pain as you had been when Peter had stabbed you over and over and over again. He told himself he deserved it for not being there for you. He deserved to rot behind bars just for that. 

“Did Pete do something?” You asked, and Sirius nearly leaned over the side of the bed to be sick. 

His eyes flickered over to Remus, who was watching you with such a haunted look that Sirius couldn’t take it. Sirius thought to himself that if he were to ignore hindsight and the future, then he would be sending you off to your death. You’d die again. It really would be his fault. He could have saved you. He should have saved you. He should have—

“I just don’t really like him very much anymore,” Sirius murmured. “I’ve… I’ve seen something in these tea leaves, okay? I saw something, and I didn’t like it.”

You snorted and tapped Sirius’ chest. “You’re rubbish at Divination! Last month, you thought you were going to end up riding a Hippogriff back to London!”

Sirius and Remus cast a look at each other, Sirius’ mouth slightly agape. “Actually, I think I have a knack for it. Maybe my timing’s just a bit off.”

“Sirius,” Remus warned. 

“He won’t freak me out, don’t worry,” you reassured Remus, and patted his leg over the duvet. “Why, Siri? What did you see that Peter did?”

Sirius swallowed and shut his eyes. “I have to go to the bathroom,” he panicked once he reopened them, and he was quick to dart away. 

You worriedly watched him go and looked back at Remus. “What’s wrong with him, Rem? Seriously. I’m worried about him. He’s not acting like normal.”

Remus sighed heavily. “Let me go and check on him.”

He climbed carefully from the bed, walking over to the bathroom. Just as he touched the handle of the door, he glanced back at you. You were watching him, your head tilted curiously. 

“What?” You asked. 

He shook his head. “Just stay right there, okay? I’ll only be a few minutes.”

“I don’t plan on going anywhere any time soon, don’t you worry,” you told him innocently enough. 

Remus shook his head and pulled open the door. He shut it behind him immediately when light poured through, and he found Sirius bent over the toilet, trembling.

“I can’t do it, I can’t do it,” he kept muttering. 

Remus felt the rage ignite inside his chest, hot and raw. “Sirius, this was your idea.”

“I thought I could handle a peaceful evening with her,” Sirius heaved. “But I can’t, Remus. How can we leave her here, knowing what’s going to happen to her? We’re essentially sentencing her to her death!”

Remus’ face curled, but his eyes were hot with tears. “It’s difficult. It’s how…” his voice broke. “It’s how it’s supposed to go.”

“You don’t even believe that!” Sirius shot back. “I can tell in your voice! You want to save her, too! Didn’t we always promise her that we’d keep her safe, Remus? Didn’t we? Look at her! She’s eighteen years old, and she only has three years left! That’s not fucking fair, Remus! Why did we get to live for so long, and she didn’t?”

They’d had this conversation a hundred times since Azkaban. Sirius held a particular amount of survivor’s guilt and PTSD. Remus was slightly better at burying his grief and self-loathing, just about content enough to survive until he saw Voldemort and Peter dead. He always thought he’d see how he felt after that. 

“Sirius, I know,” Remus hushed him, smoothing his face with his hands. “I know. I know.”

“We could save James and Lily, too,” Sirius said desperately. “And Marlene. Harry’d never have to go to the Dursleys. The second war would never have broken out. We just have to kill that fucking rat! Right now, Remus! I can gut him as he did to her!”

Remus closed his eyes, grounding himself by gripping Sirius’ shoulders. “Calm down, okay?”

“Calm down—?”

“If Harry and Lily didn’t defeat Voldemort, who would have, Sirius? We were losing the war back then. If it had never happened, the Dark Lord most likely would have become even more powerful. Eventually, he would have taken over. You’d have been used as an example of blood treason. James, too. Lily and the other Muggleborns would have probably been rounded up to be slaughtered. I’d be carted off to the werewolf packs. Y/N…” His face went green. “Fuck, Sirius, Y/N would have probably been married off for her blood status—used to repopulate the Purebloods.”

“You don’t know that!” Sirius seethed, but his face was crestfallen, his breathing rapid. 

“You don’t know that wouldn’t happen either, though, Sirius! Everything has a knock-on effect.”

“Then…” He hesitated, a strangled expression over his face. “Then perhaps we can just try to save Y/N.”

He mentally apologised to James over and over and over again. He’d make it up to him through Harry. 

Remus covered his face with his hand. “You’re not listening.”

“I don’t care!” Sirius cried. “Is that what you’d like me to say, Remus? In all honesty, I will take whatever risk it is to give Y/N the chance of living! So we don’t kill Peter then. Fine. But maybe we can make sure that Y/N is not in the house that night. That nothing bad happens to her that night. I won’t—I won’t go to Azkaban, she won’t die, you won’t have to spend years alone, and Harry can have a family! The three of us can raise him, Remus. We’ll stop the second war from breaking out. We’ll let Peter go to Azkaban for what he’s done! That’s worse than death!”

Remus blinked, and for a few moments, it looked as though he was truly considering what Sirius was saying. Sirius could feel the hope blossoming and blooming in his chest. He grasped onto Remus and shook him impatiently, as if that would make him hurry up with his decision. 

“Well? You look like you like my idea.” “Of course I do,” Remus melted. “Of course I want all of that to happen.” He tugged his lip between his teeth. “I have always said I would do anything to have her back.”

Sirius could have burst into tears. “Remus, don’t say all of this to take it back. Please.”

“Sirius, if we get caught, we’ll be arrested at the very minimum.”

“I’d go back to Azkaban for a hundred years for her, Remus,” Sirius said so determinedly that the air knocked from Remus’ lungs, and it was as if Sirius’ words had burst Remus’ morality bubble for the first time that evening.

His body sagged, his eyes sinking. “Yeah, me too, Pads.” “Then let’s risk it. Or give me the time turner, Rem. I’ll do it myself. We can send you back, and I’ll come and get her. I’ll make it right. You’ll never know the difference,” Sirius pleaded.

Remus’ trembling hand took Sirius’, and he shook his head. “You won’t have to do this alone, Sirius. We’ll do it together.”

There was a knock at the bathroom door, gentle and quiet. They both glanced at each other with softened eyes, and for the first time, their chests deflated. There was a feeling of ease knowing they were going to rewrite their story, that they would get to spend the rest of their lives together after all. 

Remus moved forward and opened the door, letting it swing open. Your eyes squinted blearily at the bright light of the bathroom. 

“Sirius, are you okay?” You asked softly. “I’m sorry if I made you feel silly about your… vision of Peter. It’s just… it’s Pete. He’s our best friend.”

“Y/N, I think we should all sit down and have a talk,” Remus suggested as calmly as he could muster, placing a hand on her arm, gently guiding her back into the room—back to Sirius’ bed. “It’s probably best we come clean to you.”

You peer at them even more anxiously. “Did something happen? Oh Merlin, Sirius, is your arm actually okay?”

“My arm is perfectly fine, baby,” Sirius couldn’t help but laugh, and he wanted to lean in and peck your hairline, but he was scared you’d want him nowhere near you in the next few minutes, so he refrained. “It’s something else entirely.”

“And you’re clever,” Remus said. “So we’re going to try not to sugar coat things. It’s going to be… hard to listen to. But we’re here for you the whole time, alright, sweetheart? Okay?”

You hesitated, staring them both over for a few more moments. Then you nodded, and Remus took a deep breath. 

“Good girl. Do you know what this is?” He reached under his shirt and pulled out a golden chain with a circular pendant.

You shook your head. “I don’t think so, Rem.”

“This is a time turner,” Remus explained. “Do you want to see how it works?”

“Yeah,” you agreed, and Remus was positive you didn’t fully understand the meaning behind his words from how nonchalantly you were reacting to the information he was giving you. 

“Give me your hands, sweet,” he instructed, and when you did so, he cupped your hand beneath his and gave the time turner one small spin. 

Suddenly, the two of you were standing up in the exact place you had been moments ago, right before you sat on the bed. The past versions of you disappeared, and Sirius’ gaze flickered between you both, his lips quirking up. 

Your eyes were nearly bulging out of your sockets. “What just happened?”

“We went back in time,” Remus explained. “Only by a few seconds. It’s not always good to go back too far.”

“When did you two get that?” You gaped and pinched your brows together at Sirius. “Did you steal it? Potter heirloom?”

“No,” Sirius laughed. “No stealing, not an heirloom. The Order gave it to us.”

You cocked a brow. “The Order of the Phoenix?”

“Yes.”

You nearly howled with laughter. “Well, that’s absurd! Why would the Order of the Phoenix trust you two with a time turner? You’re only eighteen years old, for goodness sake! We’re still at school!”

The silence that followed quickly made your amused smile evaporate. It started to settle in that this was not a joking matter, and that they were being very serious. Your gaze flickered between them, and your eyes widened as you seemed to put two and two together. 

“You're not from this time, are you?” You whispered to them both. 

“No,” Sirius admitted quietly. 

“But how is that possible?” You demanded, standing from your seat and pacing, running a hand through your hair. “Are you from the future? By what? A couple of years? You both look exactly the same as you did when I saw you a few hours ago.”

“Y/N,” Remus swallowed. “Sit down.”

You did as you were told, but you felt incredibly lightheaded, the dizziness starting to make you sway a little. Sirius supported you with a large hand. 

“We’re from the future, yes,” Sirius said. “We’re from, well, 1996.”

You paused. Your stomach flipped and your hands grew clammy. You stared at them both, unsurely. 

“This is a prank?” You asked, but you had a feeling even these two weren’t such good actors. There was no way they would do this to you so close after a full moon. Even if Sirius had come up with the sick idea, you don’t believe he’d ever be able to do it to you, and Remus would never agree to it anyway.

“Not a prank,” Remus assured her. 

You were silent for a few moments. “Well, that would make you each thirty-six years old. That’s not possible, is it? You look so young. Do your appearances change with the time you go to?”

“We took a de-ageing potion,” Remus admitted shamefully. “To blend in.”

You stare for longer. “Rem, I don’t like this. It’s not funny.”

“It’s not a joke, I swear on your life, sweetheart,” Remus said. “Look, I can prove it.”

He moved over to the coat he’d thrown over the chair and went into the pocket, pulling out a box of cigarettes and a few crumpled bits of paper. “Er, receipts with the year on them.” He dug in the other one and found his wallet, taking his seat next to her again. “That’s you. In the future.”

Sure enough, Remus opened his wallet and in the plastic covering was a small Polaroid of you. Your breath hitched and you took it from him. You looked hardly any different to the way you looked now, except your hair was cut differently, in a way you had never had it before, and this was your first time seeing the image. 

“That’s me?”

“That’s you,” Sirius said thickly. “In 1980.”

You shook your head. “Wow. Well, this is only a couple of years away, then.” You handed it back to Remus. “Why… Why are you showing me this? Why are you two here? Are my Remus and Sirius okay?”

“They’re fine, darling,” Remus said. “They’re still in the hospital wing healing, and if I remember correctly, they’re anxious to come and see you—but they’re fine.”

You smile waveringly. “Is this to do with Peter, then? Like you said before? You don’t like him?”

There was a long silence.

“What did the Order send you here to do?”

“The Order didn’t exactly send us here,” Sirius said. “This was more of my idea, really. I just…”

Your breath hitched at the look on his face. Suddenly, their strange behaviour made so much more sense. Sirius getting emotional, Remus becoming shut off. 

“That’s the last photo you have of me, isn’t it?” Your voice came out deadpan, dread icing your insides as you watch their faces for confirmation. “That’s why you don’t have a newer one, hm?” Their expressions crumbled. Remus looked positively ashamed, avoiding your eyes. Disgust crept over Sirius’ features.

You tried hard not to let the panic swallow you. “Can you…what happens to me?”

Remus hesitated. “You die during the war.”

You don’t say anything for a moment, but hot tears flood your eyes. “When I’m twenty-one? In 1980?”

Sirius nodded, and you dumped your face into your hands. “Oh, Merlin. Oh no.” Your mutterings broke their hearts, and then they heard you begin to cry, your frame shaking with each sob. “I don’t get any older?”

Sirius felt sick. Remus couldn’t open his mouth as he watched you cry, but Sirius had been itching to comfort you since the second he saw you on the kitchen floor eighteen years ago. All he’d wanted was for you to wake up and cry, so he could reassure you, wrap his arms around you, and reassure you that you were going to be fine. 

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” Sirius cried. “We weren’t… We weren’t there the day it happened. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“What happened?” You whimpered. “What happened to me?” It dawns on you. “Pete?” 

When neither said anything, you became more frantic. “No! Did I die saving him? It must have been—it must have been some freak accident, surely!”

Sirius shook his head, fists clenched. “It was not an accident, Y/N,”

You rubbed your eyes. “But—but—Peter is—”

“Not at all what any of us thought,” Remus finished for her sternly. 

“Oh Gods. Is it painless at least?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Remus cut in before Sirius could. “Because it’s not going to happen again.”

“Wha—what do you mean?”

Remus lifted the time turner. “We’re not going back to a world you’re not in, Y/N. Not ever.”

Your breath hitched. “What?”

“I know this is overwhelming,” Sirius said. “I’m sorry. We just—we want to be sure that you want to be saved, Y/N. That you want to live. We don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

You thought for a few seconds. “Of course I want to live,” you croaked. “I want to grow old with you both. But I don’t want to change the future for the worse. What if bad things happen?”

“Bad things happen anyway,” Sirius mumbled.

“Sirius is blamed for your death,” Remus said, and purposefully left out the news of James and Lily. “He goes to Azkaban for thirteen years, until he breaks out.”

You look over at him, agony nearly shredding you apart. “Sirius,” you breathed, and your sniffling nose and flushed eyes were enough to make him coo and bring you into his warm chest. “Merlin, Sirius, I am so, so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” he murmured into your hair. “Never your fault, honey.”

You stayed like that for minutes. Your eyes began to feel tired from the emotion and weight of the day. Sirius couldn’t take his eyes off of you, curled up in his arms, finally safe.

“Let us save you,” Remus pleaded with her quietly, brushing her hair from her face. “Please.”

“But what if it makes everything worse in the long run? I don’t want you two to get into more trouble.”

“We’d Obliviate you after this, sweetheart,” Remus said, and Sirius was nearly surprised that he’d come up with a plan so soon, but also not really because it was Remus. “You won’t remember this, and you’ll go on like normal. Sirius and I will jump to the day you pass. We’ll make sure Pete doesn’t get to hurt you.”

“Why can’t we stop Peter now?” 

“We can’t change too much of the timeline, baby,” Sirius swallowed thickly. “No matter how much we want to. Some things have to stay the same.”

There was a long silence. Minutes ticked by agonisingly slowly.

“What do you think?” Remus asked quietly. 

“Let me sleep on it, Rem,” you said, furrowing your brows, but not opening your eyes as you rested against Sirius’ chest. “I can’t—I can’t think straight right now. Too much.”

“Okay,” Remus whispered, though his fingers twitched and his lips pursed. “Yeah, darling. Go to sleep. We’ll still be here in the morning.”

It took you a very long time to finally lose consciousness. You lay there, dwelling and agonising for hours, until the steady beat of Sirius’ heart lulled you to sleep. 

── .✦

The next morning, you were the first to wake. You studied the men on either side of you, unsure if you were freaked out by their aged faces or calmed by them. A part of you was relieved that they got to see this age, and they survived a war you hadn’t managed to. The other part of you couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that there was no other version of you that got to wake up to this. 

They both mostly looked the same. Both had a few silvers running through their hair, and the slightest of wrinkles around their eyes. It was obvious they were older in a handsome way, tattoos adorning every inch of Sirius’ skin in a way that had you almost breathless. 

You traced them until he stirred slightly, and then you froze, a nervousness washing over you that you usually didn’t get with the boys. You supposed that was because these weren’t boys, but men. You didn’t know this version of Sirius and Remus; these were around eighteen years older than you and had lived lives you’d never know about. 

You hesitated for a few moments, your thoughts drifting to the version of Sirius and Remus who were downstairs in the medical wing. You suddenly yearned for them more than ever, even if their elder selves were with you. Very carefully, you chose the one who used to always sleep like a log and prayed that was still true. Climbing over Sirius’ sleeping figure was a sport you had become extremely skilled at, especially because he liked to lie flat on his stomach. 

Pulling on Remus’ jumper, you hesitated, watching them both sleep peacefully in the bed. Remus’ nose twitched, just like it always did. His hand splayed out across the mattress, as if looking for you or Sirius. You decided to leave before they woke up. 

You stalked down all of the staircases, not a soul in sight, until you made it to the infirmary. You pushed the door open and headed straight for the two occupied beds at the end of the hall. Remus was already awake, a book in his hands and his eyes bleary from, knowing him, lack of sleep. 

“Hi,” you breathed, and dropped into the chair next to him. 

He looked pleased to see you, his face melting into a smile. “Y/N. It’s so early. Why are you here?”

“I just needed to come and see you both,” you whispered, but your voice cracked at his gentle face, and your eyes welled with hot tears, much to your horror. 

Remus quickly placed the book down, concerned, and he pulled his blankets off his legs. 

“No, no, no,” you attempted to usher him back in. “Rest, Rem. Stop. Don’t worry about me, I just… I had a nightmare last night. I’m being silly.”

He looked dramatically less concerned, his face easing into a look of sympathy as he made a soft sound in the back of his throat. “Oh, sweetheart. You had a nightmare, did you? What was it about?”

You hesitated and gulped down the lump in your throat. It felt like all of the air was stuck there, and something was squeezing your chest unrelentingly. 

“I died,” you blurted. “A couple of years into the war. I got murdered. You and Sirius—you both were really sad afterwards.”

Remus’ brows tugged together, and he opened his arms out to you. You climbed into them, careful of all of his wounds, resting your head on his chest. You felt better nearly instantly, but dread sank in your stomach like an anchor—a constant, aching reminder that you would only have this for the next couple of years. You looked over at a sleeping Sirius. In a couple of years, he would be in Azkaban. Remus would be alone, a shell of the person he was before. 

“That won’t happen,” Remus whispered, stroking your hair. You almost believed him from the softness and sincerity in his tone. “You’re safe with us, baby. I’ve got you.”

The tears streamed even more easily down your face.

“Y/N?” Sirius’ groggy voice came from the bed over. “Is she okay, Rem?”

“Poor thing’s had a nightmare,” Remus said, and it wasn’t long before you heard the duvet shuffle and the padding of feet over to you. 

“Darling,” Sirius whined dotingly, and stole you from Remus’ arms, dotting kisses throughout your hair. “You’re alright. Was it that bad?”

“I just—it felt really, really real,” you sniffled. “And I’m—I’m— I was thinking what would happen to the two of you if something really did happen to me.”

Remus’ face contorted. “Don’t ask questions like that, love.”

“Yeah, it won’t ever happen,” Sirius said forcefully. “Never, Y/N.”

You grasped his jumper tighter. 

“Gods, your hands are shaking, sweetheart,” Sirius muttered. 

“Sorry,” you murmured, and dragged yourself away from him. 

They both watched you with such soft, kind eyes. Your heart ached, pulsating and dying all at once. You itched to grab them again. 

You wanted this forever. You wanted to know the two boys in the tower above you, too—you wanted to watch this Sirius and Remus grow into the men upstairs. Hopefully, happier, less traumatised versions. 

You’d felt a weird sense of nausea when you’d woken up earlier, looking at the familiar faces of your boyfriends and realising you didn’t know them, and would never know them. 

You needed to know them.  

“I’m going to get ready for the day,” you breathed out. “I’ll shower and put some clean clothes on, and then I’m going to come down here with some games or something for us to play. It’s Christmas Eve, you know.”

Remus frowned. “Let us come with you.”

“No, no. I’m going to get the house elves to make us something really nice, okay?” You said, and your encouraging smile lifted their spirits slightly. “You’re right. Both of you. It was just a dream.”

You had your answer for the Sirius and Remus upstairs.

James Potter and Sirius Black weren’t a couple of scrappy, misunderstood queer kids fighting against a world that hated them.

They were the exact opposite.

…

Both of them came from old money — not just rich, but aristocratic families with generations of wealth, power, and influence behind their names. The Potter and Black families were basically wizarding nobility. They would have been raised with enormous privilege, taught from birth that they mattered more than other people simply because of their bloodline, their social status, and their inherited power.

Fandom loves to project this modern idea of them being rebellious underdogs, queer-coded victims of a cruel system, when in reality, they were the system.

Even Sirius, who famously rejected the pureblood supremacist ideology of his family, still grew up as a wealthy, attractive, powerful white boy who knew exactly how much weight his name carried. His “rebellion” was real and meaningful in some ways, but it didn’t strip him of his inherent societal privilege. He was still Sirius Black.

James Potter, even more so, was a golden boy ; the heir to an immense fortune, from a beloved and respected family, with everything handed to him. He wasn’t an outsider. He was the insider.

If I had been a student at Hogwarts during their time, James and Sirius wouldn’t have been these charming, secretly-soft gay icons the fandom wants them to be. They would have been those insufferable rich white boys who thought the world revolved around them, the kind that coast on money, popularity, and privilege, and who genuinely believe they’re better than you even when they’re trying to be “nice.”

And just to be clear — I’m not saying this as a Snape fan or apologist. I’m not trying to paint Snape as some poor misunderstood victim either. I’m simply pointing out that the way fandom has collectively reimagined the Marauders ( especially James and Sirius ) says a lot more about fandom’s romanticization of wealth, privilege, and modern social issues than it does about the actual source material.

At the end of the day, James and Sirius were cool, popular, rich, talented, and good-looking — they knew it, and they acted like it…

That doesn’t make them evil, but it definitely means they weren’t the downtrodden, queer-coded rebels that fandom tries so hard to project onto them.

( And finally, everyone’s entitled to their own opinion and to how they see these characters. This is just my opinion. I actually like the Marauders as characters! Just because I criticized the way fandom tends to characterize them doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy reading about them or seeing different takes. I’m only pointing it out because honestly, people can get real sensitive when it comes to their favorite ships and characters — especially since the word “nuance” seems to barely exist on this app anymore. )

Your voice was but a mere whisper, barley that. Had the room not been dead silent, you might have not been heard. Eyes wide, and a near glint in them from such a sudden wave of emotion that you felt yourself shake on the inside. A tumultuous wave of nausea from what he was implying. What you all knew for the last twelve, near thirteen years, and here he was telling you something against it.

But he said what was always said about it. “The map never-”

Your voice still no more then a whisper cut him off, a sharpness creeping towards the edge of your tongue as his head jerked back only the slightest. “Don’t give me that, Remus.” You hadn’t taken that tone with him since, well, you both knew the last you took this tone and it was with the same person, people, in mind.

But, it was different now. You were different, Remus was different. You had begun this term starting on your sixth year as professor of Magical Biology and Healing at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Remus was on his first year as professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts, something you had pushed him towards for the past three years.

That was not an easy fight, and it took some discussions with Headmaster Albus Dumbledore to fully understand it was not some twisted form of favouritism, that he was genuinely a good fit for the role. And he was. The position was said to have been cursed, and how true that was you did not know, but for some years now as long as you could recall, no one kept it for more then a year. You had hoped this year would change that, but the air in the school was not the same as it had been years ago. Even now with Remus here, a professor that students loved, you felt as if Remus was fighting a curse he himself did not believe in.

He fought it through different ways, he fought it by pulling himself and now you, back into the past. By bringing up the name of a once dear friend you knew to be dead.

Third Year student Harry Potter had been caught wandering the halls at night by Potions Professor Severus Snape. Harry had turned out his pockets and shown what he claimed was a spare bit of parchment, only to have a rather familiar sounding insult present itself to Snape on the paper when he attempted to reveal the secrets within it’s pages. Remus happened on both of them, and covered for Harry, claiming it was likely a prank Zonko’s Joke Shop purchase. A bit of paper designed to insult whoever tries to read it, but confiscated it for safe keeping.

But, Harry had told Remus something strange. He had said he’s not sure the map was always correct, because that night, he was following someones name in the hallways he thought was supposed to be dead. And it was that name that had Remus then drag you out of bed. Whether he thought you needed to know now, or he couldn’t keep the feeling growing inside him alone you didn’t know but now did not wish to be part of it.

“Don’t drudge up the past, Remus.” In a calm but deeply troubled voice he claimed he wasn’t, and you could see the pain in his eyes just as bright as you could see the scars on his face. Your heart swelled, and the frustration and confusion slipped away long enough for your feet to take you to him. Hands resting at either side of his cheek as he stood and allowed you to embrace him, a gentle touch and comfort he so rarely knew to this day, yet always could expect from you. “Haven’t we done enough? Haven’t we been through enough?” Your thumbs begun to run back and forth, from skin to scar to skin they brushed. “He’s gone.”

Remus looked down at you with something so overwhelmingly kind radiating in his eyes. You were all the other had for thirteen years. It was you and him, no one else. The kind of memories and pain you had to live with forms a bond, one most couldn’t understand. He leaned on you, as you leaned on him, and even in this moment as he was trying to tell you something that was truly only pain, you could not feel it in your heart to be angry.

His own hands reached up, grasping at your wrists but did not remove them from his face, only held you there, his own thumbs pressed light against your own pulse. As if the feeling of blood moving trough them kept him going, reminded him that you were alive, and that was enough. But enough did not mean he could ignore what he heard, and it seemed he wouldn’t allow you to live in denial. No matter how appealing it seemed.

“And you know him.” A shiver found it’s way down your spine. It was years ago, thirteen years ago it ended. You did not know him. You knew nothing of the man, the monster whose face you knew so intimately screamed and shouted with chains and his prison number painted across the board on his chest. The one you were forced to look upon ever since the Daily Prophet slathered it across every front page they could to emphasize his escape. Remus only continued, knowing the turmoil in your stomach was twisting and twisting. “He escapes Azkaban, and Harry sees-”

You shook your head, but Remus said your name softly. Feeling his cheeks leave your touch as you stepped back, his own hands respectfully allowing you your space. He must have known his would not be an easy conversation, hence why he did it now, and not waited until daylight. You would need time before walking back into your classroom to your students as if nothing was amiss.

Sharp tongued in a whisper again you spat back, eyes narrowing in that headache inducing manner. “We both know what he did, not just to him. But to James and Lily, what he wants to do to Harry. This isn’t just about him, or what Harry thinks he saw, it’s about what this means if he’s right. Are you certain you’re willing to believe everything you knew, we knew, for thirteen years is suddenly wrong?”

“He was laughing like a madman when they caught him. We all thought it was because he was simply mad at that point, but what if-” He was talking to you as if you were one of his students, which you did not enjoy whatsoever. The lecturing tone as if he knew better and had to teach it to you. Saying to him not to patronize you, he shook his head once, eyes closed as he did so before meeting your gaze once again. “I’m not. I’m only telling you what I am currently thinking. If he was laughing like a mad man not because of what he had done, but because he knew he was being blamed for-”

No. No, he was James and Lily’s secret keeper. He was James best friend, everyone knew that. He betrayed them, he killed-

Once again Remus interrupted your thoughts for you. “Sirius was one of my best friends, and he was far more then that to you. I’ve thought the same as you have for thirteen years, but now it’s time to see it differently.” Your name came from his lips softly, with soft eyes against those harsh scar lines on his face you came to love so dearly. “We’re the teachers now, that doesn’t mean we are incapable of being wrong.”

Asking how you possibly were supposed to believe what Remus was trying to convince you of, he gestured towards his teaching desk, the map unfurled against it as open as he could manage in one go. His voice gentle as he came to step beside you, putting a hand on the small of your back as he pushed you to walk forward. His voice near but in your ear.

“We look. If we see Peter Pettigrew’s name for ourselves, then we’ll know.”

----------------------------------------------------------------

You huffed as you finally sat down. Hearing your mothers voice in your head, reminding you to go through your list as always before totally relaxing only made the oncoming headache that much stronger. Since you were eleven, you had gone through this process and now that it was your fifth year doing it, you seldom felt the need to act as if the woman needed to stand over your shoulder and baby you. There seemed to be a misunderstanding as to how exactly old you were still.

For your father, he no doubt reminded her before you had made your way that you were all but an adult at this point when she wanted to huff and say they should have come with you. But he had insisted as you had insisted, you would turn sixteen this November, what more babying did you need?

“Sixteen is hardly an adult where I’m from.” She had argued, but your father had too argued that he came from a different place and there, you were taken much more seriously once you neared this age. Less a child, and more the earliest stage of being an adult. Trusted on your own, trusted with all sorts of topics and magic he wouldn’t imagine a child needing to know even in their dizziest daydreams.

Your mother was a witch, however, she was indeed a muggle born. She was born in a tiny village in Luxembourg, and attended the prestigious french school Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. Your father on the other hand, a half blood who had attended the very school you now attended, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was born, proudly born as he would state, in a village called Cork in Ireland. He and your mother had met as students in their sixth year when their respective families had both brought them on a summer holiday to Paris.

Your mother spoke a variety of languages. Speaking the native Luxembourgish, but too did she speak what she called ‘a hair of German’, but mostly she spoke French. A necessity as Beauxbatons was a French school. She hardly spoke English at the time, but your father got by trying to flirt with her by using all of is so called, Irish charm, and by speaking what your mother called, the worst French she’s ever heard in her life.

Somehow that led all the way to you. Now you on your home days, resided in Cork. You had once as a child, asked your father how a magical family ended up in such an uninspiring Muggle town, and he had told you that it was your grandfather’s fault. Your grandfather had worked in the Ministry of Magic in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department, and wanted to move to a Muggle town to understand them more. Your father had been born during those years, and the family was simply too Irish to admit that they belonged in a town meant for magic folk then one made for Irish folk.

Your parents differences were unique though. They kept the magic strictly contained to inside the homestead, not that it meant much if they used it outside. You had no neighbours to speak of, where you lived. You could look out your bedroom window and see cows passing by through your front yard more then you could see people. Once you remembered being home alone, and so many cows were outside that they quite literally had surrounded the house. Sitting there at seven, you just thought to yourself, what do you do? Wait for them to leave? Did you just live with the cows now?

By accident, you had stepped outside to go see if they were to be prompted to move by good old fashion shouting, when one of them gave a loud moo in response, which quite annoyed you. For whatever reason. Before you knew it, you had pointed at the cow and begun shouting at it, in what your friends now described as possibly the least intelligible Irish dialect possibly spoken, when it begun to levitate.

Luckily, it didn’t go anywhere as it was caught on the thick three your swing was hung from, and your mother arrived soon after and set it right. She had argued with your father that this was proof you were too young and inexperienced to be trusted to be so alone yet, where he argued it happened to the best of magical children, only at least this incident was a cow instead of a person. So no harm done.

Your mother wanted to baby you, your father didn’t. And still, at near sixteen did you sit in the train carriage you had found with a deep sigh trying to tell yourself that you were too old to still go through your mother’s very babying list of what to do when you got on the Hogwarts Express.

Not even having noticed when your eye’s closed, you half opened the one not partially covered by your side swooping bangs, to watch the other people passing by looking for their friends to sit with. Some you knew, many were younger years you didn’t know as well and could ignore.

One noticeable pair however, was the striking red haired girl who turned around swiftly in front of your door, to say something to the boy in front of her. Or, so it seemed, until his dark eyes found yours, before they narrowed and slunk back to the girl in front of it him as you realized she was indeed lecturing someone behind her companion. The two were seldom seem separate these days.

The boy was Severus Snape. A fifth year Slytherin with longish, black hair that normally looked in need of a wash. Yet that matched his ghostly pale skin and larger, hooked nose that always seemed to be formed in a way as if he smelled something repulsive. He was quiet, and rather unpleasant at times, but quite smart. You could always notice him paying close attention to Professor Slughorn in Potions class, and always at the top of the class despite everyone else’s dismay. He too had an interest in the Dark Arts, and on his own, could typically be found handing around the older Slytherin’s whom had begun down a more directed path you could say, or, slinking about on his own in the restricted section of the library. You did not spend much time with Severus you could admit, though your friends spent a certain amount of time around him in a different way then the girl.

She you knew better. Lily Evans, a fellow fifth year Gryffindor. She was a lovely beauty. Long, red hair that looked almost a blend of red and orange in the sunlight, and stunning green eyes. She was a muggle born, which made her relationship to Severus all the more odd. They had met before they both came to Hogwarts, as they were already close by the time any met either of them for the first time. He spent time with many of the more uptight, turning their noses down at you Pure Bloods, usually in Slytherin, which made spending time with a Muggle Born girl so strange.

You shared a dorm with Lily but you two didn’t truly spent time together beyond that. It was your friendship with the boys she was currently near shouting at that was the reason for her distance towards you.

Mostly, it was James’s fault. James Potter, another fifth year Gryffindor from a long standing Pure Blood family, but took a very different attitude towards Severus then the Pure Blood’s he hung around with did. He thought he was a snivelling weasel, “a right foul git” as he put it. He had shaggy dark hair, and notable circular glasses on his face that only made him look more handsome then he already was, something you knew drove Lily up the wall. Anything to admit James, or should you say, anything to make her admit that she specifically found James handsome was unacceptable. She despised him for his immature attitude, and unfavourable actions towards her closest friend. You didn’t partake in their mischief towards Severus, but your association with them was as good as guilty in her eyes.

You didn’t blame her, she didn’t have an upright sort of attitude about her, but she was protective of her friend and didn’t want you around if you approved of that sort of behaviour. You didn’t disapprove, sometimes Severus deserved a bit of harmless pranking as much as the next person did. She was normally quite soft voiced, and wonderfully kind, but you two had gotten off on the wrong foot essentially, and neither of you really did anything to improve that.

Your eyes both opened, and with a failed huff to attempt to move your bangs out of your view, you instead tossed your head to the side to get a better view. Only you could see the tail ends of Severus’s black hair floating away as they moved aide before roaring laughter filled the cart as James himself sat down, two figures to follow.

James plopped right down across from you in a loud grunt of theatrics as he grinned happily to see you, your name coming from his mouth. “Doing alright, then?”

Head gesturing to the side, you found little change in your expression besides a raise of your brow. “Better then you, Potter. Love of your life reject you once more?”

James only further dramatically waved his hand off to the side, tilting his head to look out the window before returning once more to you. “She’ll come around one day.” You must have unknowingly raised your brow of doubt even further, prompting him to sit forward and point directly at you. “Listen here, Sassenach. One of these days-”

Interrupting him with a glint in your eye, “That’s still not how you use that, Potter.”

Attempting to dissuade you from interrupting his no doubt brilliant plan of love, a second voice in the room cut through his first word to shut him down further. “She’s right, she’s supposed to call you that.” Asking why the voice replied, “It’s a term towards English people.”

A third male voice too cut in as that one sat down next to you, coming to your rescue further. “It’s also a Scottish word, not Irish.”

Before all three others in the room could either laugh or mock him further, James motioned both his arms out as if to silence all dissent, which was done mostly to allow him to finish his delusion. “Regardless, Lily will see the error of her ways one day. She’ll come to see Snivillius as the slimy git he is, and come crawling to me like she always meant too.”

The voice that came from beside him, was just as amused as you looked. “Lovely to find out your parents still never took you to get that thick head of yours checked over the holidays.” James slightly shoved him in the arm receiving a nudge back.

The voice had belonged to Sirius Black. An anomaly in his own right. He belonged to the Black Family, a very old Pure Blood house which almost exclusively would be sorted into Slytherin, just as his younger brother Regulus was currently in. He had instead much to everyone’s shock, been sorted into Gryffindor and had never actually spent any time in the interest or the kinds of people that the rest of his family was typically associated with. He made best friends with the other boys in his year in Gryffindor, and he was put on a different path ever since.

He looked just like them, slightly longer black hair, never quite knowing if it wanted to sit wavy or more on the side of curly, but it was thicker and more voluminous and healthy then Severus’s mop of grease looked. His grey eyes were too unique, not to his family, but to most people. They could appear near black when he was angry, but otherwise it was as if the moon itself sat in his eyes with a glint near almost all of the time.

The third voice in the room spoke up from where it had sat beside you. “You’d know that one, though. Wouldn’t you Padfoot?”

Your eyes narrowed only in an innocent confusion, not picking up the reference. About to ask what that meant, Sirius cleared his throat and gave the third in the room a look that spoke not to say anything. James looked away, and the third boy suddenly looked away from you too as if realizing there was a secret between them that no one was saying to you. The room fell quiet, and all you could do was glance at the third boy.

He looked rough, but he always did in a way. Remus Lupin was too another Gryffindor fifth year. He had hair like James, lighter of a brown but could have been shaggy like his were Remus simply not better at putting some basic thought into looking less like a vagrant then James sometimes could. He had greenish eyes that sometimes in the moonlight looked almost blue, but most notably, was his face. There were scars along it.

Long scars that while not standing out so much to be distracting, were impossible not to at least notice. You wish you didn’t know the story of what they were, nor the further implications of what they meant, but you did. However, just after eleven o’clock in the morning the day you were returning for the school year was not the time you wished to dwell on those facts. You would say you were closest with Remus, you were both on the more quiet and calm side. He still got into trouble, there was little doubt about that, but it was paired against the fact that he knew how to skirt the line of following the rules and get into trouble that allowed him to become a Prefect this year. How he was to handle who he was, and who his best friends were against being the school designated rule enforcer was beyond you, but that was another future problem.

There was still one missing, but you knew he’d come along eventually. Always a bit on the tardy side he was, making you once again glance to Remus next to you in wonder of how he thought he could possibly balance his own friends and self against the rules.

Glancing over at Sirius however, you caught his own grey eyes already watching you with a curiosity in them. Not looking away, you narrowed yours playfully as it to silently interrogate what it was he wanted, but he only shrugged slightly before turning to look away from you. The hint of a smirk on his lips not so subtle to your eyes. If James noticed, he was pretending not to have, while Remus was busy in a large yawn that took over near his entire body. No doubt half way through the ride he’d doze off, which is why he had taken to sitting next to you on the train these past years.

It was fair safer falling asleep on your shoulder then it was to fall asleep on one of the shoulders of any one of them boys. You only moved to fix your hair and chopped it up to whatever antics Sirius typically used to amuse himself in moments of silence. You thought not of the glint in his grey eyes lingering in your mind for the brief moment or two before the conversation around you turned once more.

Discussions on what everyone did for their summer holiday roamed naturally. James elaborated on what his own parents took him on. The Potters were one of the elder Pure Blood families, they came from old money and older magic. You could only envision what wonders lay in their vault below Gringotts.

Noting as the sound of the train begun to prepare itself for motion, you looked around as if that would give you the answer to the one who wasn’t there. Sirius noticed first where it was your brain was getting at. His voice lifted a bit in pitch, an amusement notable in his tone. “Looking for ole Wormtail?”

The boys all had nicknames for each other, names you pretended not to know why they had. They’d had them since either near the end of first year, or sometime during second year. At least that was when they started using it publicly. You scarcely could think what they related too, but you supposed at this point it did not matter. The boys were who they were, unapologetically. In a more passive tone as if to offset Sirius’s, you merely shrugged a shoulder. “Not my fault if you can’t keep track of your own pack.”

You ignored Remus’s own little smirk to himself beside you.

James piped up next, the same higher pitch of amusement as he pressed a hand to his heart in a fake dismay of offence. “You wound us, we would never leave one of our own behind.” You raised an eyebrow simply to ask then where he was, when your answer was graced by the sliding door of the train cart opening.

A shorter fifth year stumbled in with a huff of a breath and a trail of sweat gleaning down one side of his hair, which sat a floppy sort of gold atop his head in a style which did not quite suit him. He was always on the larger side, especially at this age compared to the fitness which James and Sirius seemed to have built up. Remus was similarly in shape, but always sat more on the leaner side as if bulking up in muscle was not in the cards. Wormtail as they called him was never like that. Always chubby, never seemed to be able to shed any of it no matter how hard he tried.

You had seen him change his diet and not many times over, and still his weight simply grew up with his height as if it had become a staple. But, that was never something the boys teased him for. In fact, they would rampantly stand up for him as it mattered not to then. After all, all boys were Gryffindor’s and they were a pack since their first year, and that was never going to change.

You were you, just the female friend that sometimes tagged along, sometimes engages, but otherwise always respected that they had a group wholey unique to the four of them that you never wished to intrude on.

James Potter would always stand as their so called fearless leader, a jokester and a prankster but still a feirce friend who would die for you if need be. Sirius was always the more brooding one in the background, a troubled past and family that he carried with him everyday no matter how hard he tried to pretend he was as jovial and carefree as James could afford to be. Remus would always be the silent partner in the background, ready to jump at any opportunity for mischief but he held his own secrets and perpencity for rule following to a degree. And there trailing behind them, what you once heard Professor McGonagall call “a little lump of a boy”, following James, Sirius and Remus with a dedication to their shenanigans as present as they were despite being the one to look the most innocent, he scarcely ever was, and you always found that amusing in him.