No, I'm still no good with titles.
Seems like the predicted rate of one fic roughly every four months is still working. Still no promises, though; next year is not something I want to think about just yet.
I'm playing with a different format this time round because I tried to write this in normal prose but it seemed disgustingly dramatic no matter how hard I tried. I hope it works.
This is set in early sixth year, and begins the morning after Sirius' Trick with a capital 'T'.
For Akiko, because I whine at her far too much.
Finished 23 November 2003Perspectives
I. Remus
Remus lies in bed, drugged to the gills. He can't move his body, and doesn't think he wants to. Consciousness flits in and out; the wolf is still filling his head with fireworks, and he can still taste blood in his mouth.
He doesn't know what happened.
Now he recognises the vague forms, the scent of blood and human flesh, as Severus and James. He wonders what happened to them; he knows he didn't get them, he knows this is why he can hardly move now and why it hurts to breathe.
And now James is speaking in his ear, softly, reassuringly. It's all right, Remus, I'm all right, Snape's all right. Just go to sleep. When you wake up everything will be all right.
Remus knows he is lying.
And when he is almost asleep again James stands up, his robes rustling softly, and mutters: Sirius is going to pay for this.
So now he knows Sirius is at the centre of it. And as the darkness closes in, Remus finds that he's not terribly surprised.
II. James
James is angry. Sirius is foolish; he put Snape' life in danger, which was intended and which James doesn't actually feel all that concerned about, in spite of what he did eventually. But he also endangered Remus, which is unacceptable.
If Snape had been eaten his family would have raised hell and Remus would have been exterminated. And even though Snape is largely intact he knows Remus' secret now, and James doesn't trust the Slytherin one inch.
Remus is still in the hospital wing, and won't be coming out for another two days. The wolf didn't take kindly to being denied prey; James has been helping Madam Pomfrey, and he wants to cry whenever he changes the blood-soaked bandages and whenever he watches Remus' eyelids flutter open and shut, exposing and hiding scleral white as the boy drifts in and out of sleep.
It takes a lot to make James cry.
This is all Sirius' fault, James thinks. The effects on Remus never occurred to Sirius; Sirius never thinks. He was angry, he wanted to get rid of Snape, and Moony presented a convenient method of doing so.
James has not spoken to Sirius since he emerged from the Whomping Willow dragging Snape with him, both boys pale and panting, Snape screaming about a werewolf, James and Sirius screaming right back. And then James realised that he was working in tandem with Sirius, stopped, and concentrated on getting things back into order.
Sirius is always getting into trouble, and even though James does as well he usually cleans up satisfactorily afterwards. Sirius always leaves it to James and Peter and Remus to do the dirty work for him.
James realises that he hates Sirius.
And so when Sirius, his face ashen, suddenly aware of all the implications now that Professor McGonagall has been yelling them at him for the last half an hour, asks how Remus is, James hits him across the face and Peter, after spending about a minute pretending not to see or hear and innocently looking in the other direction, has to drag him off Sirius physically.
III. Remus
Remus is awake, and he's made Peter tell him the story. Now he is alone while the other three boys attend their classes. He can't sleep.
James and Peter wouldn't let Sirius see him in the morning, which Remus is glad for. He thinks there might have been murder. Or, worse, a tearful breakdown.
Sirius is not a nice boy, Remus reflects. He is genuinely contemptuous, genuinely spoilt. For reasons of his own, a few months into first year Sirius took it into his head that Remus and James were all right, and because both of them frown when he snaps at Peter Sirius tries, although not very hard, to be nice to him, at least in Peter's presence.
Severus, though, enjoys no such immunity. To Sirius and, most of the time, James, Severus belongs to a faceless group called the Slytherins, and exists to be mercilessly harassed in the name of house spirit.
Remus admits, mentally, that the Slytherins get on his nerves sometimes, too. Severus has never forgiven him for shaming him in Defense Against the Dark Arts. The two of them still sit together, but there is no more civility between them. Remus has given up on Severus, even though he still has a soft spot for the boy who was once almost his friend. It upsets Remus to see Sirius and James single out Severus, angular and gawky and a loner even in his own house, for bullying. Severus is a match for one of them, but not both. Remus remembers a time when he himself was bullied by both the Slytherins and the Gryffindors, and he wishes Sirius and James would stop.
Remus usually stands on the side of the Gryffindors, though. At least they seem to appreciate his support. Severus merely hurls abuse when Remus tries to defend him, and then Sirius and James start doubting Remus' loyalty to the house of Gryffindor.
And Remus won't have that. For the first time in years he has friends, and he doesn't want to push his luck.
But this time Sirius has done it. Remus has never agreed much with Sirius' worldview, which very obviously contains Sirius Black at its very centre. But he likes Sirius' open exuberance and his sense of fun, and he tells himself that Sirius is not a bad person at heart. He's just not nice.
Remus can't tell himself that now. All he can remember is that Sirius has never liked Severus, has always played unkind, and more than unkind, pranks on all of Slytherin in the past five years. Remus sometimes insists that a certain prank is too dangerous, or finally loses patience at Sirius' and James' unnecessary bullying of Severus. Sirius always defends himself by pointing out that they're just Slytherins and thus don't matter but, wanting to please Remus, he always promises to go a little easier on them.
(James rarely promises anything, and so he doesn't break promises the way Sirius does, carelessly and without thought. Remus has managed, in private, to make James promise never to play the underwear trick on Severus again, and so far James has been very good about it, even if he does still harangue Severus in other, milder ways.)
But Sirius never changes, Sirius always forgets. Sirius is nasty and petty and malicious, the very qualities he despises in Severus Snape. He thinks he's different because he looks good and is charming, whereas Severus has the social magnetism of a lump of wood. Remus smiles sometimes at the irony, but it's not funny. Not really.
This time, though, it's not just the unthinking cruelty that gets Remus. It's the fact that Sirius wanted to use Remus as a tool for getting rid of an annoying pest, and didn't see anything wrong with that. Despite everything, Remus has always believed that Sirius considered him a genuine friend. Now he sees that he is merely a convenience among other conveniences. Sirius doesn't think the people around him are really alive. He thinks they're just there for Sirius Black's amusement.
Remus never wants to speak to Sirius again.
IV. Sirius
For the first time in his life attention is not being paid to Sirius Black. Although the Marauders won't say why five hundred points were gone in a single night, why Professor McGonagall has lost her voice, why Sirius is sporting a cut lip and a rainbow-coloured bruise on one cheek and an ugly patch on one side of his head where James pulled out a handful of silky black hair, why James is nursing red knuckles and broken fingernails and is emphatically not talking to Sirius, and why Remus is not around, not even the day after, word swiftly gets round that Sirius has done something terrible, and the Gryffindors have placed him in coventry.
Sirius wanders the halls of Hogwarts completely alone where he used to be surrounded by friends. Sometimes people walk into him, don't apologise, and walk on. The teachers don't praise him or complain about him anymore. It's as though no one can see him.
Sirius should have been expelled. But the Blacks are worse than the Snapes, and no one wants to risk Remus losing his head for something that Sirius did. Sirius realises that in the eyes of James and Peter, in the eyes of Professor McGonagall, he no longer has any worth.
It seemed simple and a good idea at the time, disposing of Snape. Now it's like a dream gone horribly wrong. Sirius keeps expecting to wake up, but he never does.
He manages to see Remus, sometime in the night, after skipping dinner and loitering outside the hospital wing for hours until Madam Pomfrey takes pity on him and goes to ask Remus if he feels up to a visit. Remus starts out calm but ends in an outburst, tearful and irate, his voice cracking midway, concluding by throwing something at him. Sirius has never seen Remus so out of control, and it frightens him to contemplate the idea that Remus will never, ever forgive him.
Sirius realises now that Remus has never quite forgiven him for all his past offences, merely shelved them away for future reference. An apology and a promise to change used to be able to mollify Remus, but he's done it too many times, and Remus remembers what happened to all of them. Now Remus won't trust Sirius again.
Sirius is the boy who cried wolf, and now he's just beginning to see the results. It's true, what they say about him: Sirius never thinks, Sirius treats everyone like dirt, Sirius Black is an arrogant bastard who should have been in Slytherin like the rest of his family. Now he's been deflated, he feels like dirt while everyone else towers above him.
But no one notices and Remus, the one that matters, won't even deign to step on him.
Sirius wishes he had never been born, and wants to cry in the morning when he wakes up and finds that he didn't die in his sleep.
V. Peter
Peter is unreasonably happy.
Remus is back from the hospital wing, quiet and smiling as though nothing has happened. Peter can't find any trace of pretense in Remus' carriage or his eyes or his smile. The only thing that's changed is that Remus doesn't acknowledge Sirius' existence at all.
Peter is slightly disturbed by the ease with which Remus appears to have accomplished this, but he can hardly blame him for it. James seems fine with it, too, so Peter doesn't feel guilty about doing nothing while Sirius seems to become smaller and more broken-down every day.
For the first time in Peter's life James and Remus prefer his company to Sirius', and Peter can't help feeling gleeful at this even as he tells himself he shouldn't. He was Remus' first friend, but Sirius came onto the scene with his boisterous flamboyance and then Remus was the centre of Sirius' and James' and Remus' little clique, pale and quiet, James' unofficially-adopted little brother, Sirius' protégé in the art and theory of mischief-making. Remus has never forgotten Peter, but Peter has also never managed to shake the feeling that he's included only out of pity.
Now Remus and James treat Peter like an equal, and without Sirius' presence next to him exuding repressed contempt Peter surprises even himself with the quickness of his thinking, the value of his contributions, even occasional eloquence. He's managed to point out the crux of a question in James' Charms homework that he couldn't figure out, and James' half-bemused and then grateful smile, his surprised thank-you, makes Peter want to laugh out loud. He can see the wheels turning in James' head, the thought that maybe he's underestimated Peter, that there are new things worth discovering in this smaller boy, the fleeting notion that perhaps, perhaps Peter might even be a fairly satisfactory substitute for Sirius. Different, but satisfactory. He can see Remus' genuine approval and support for his daring to speak out more, that Remus derives real pleasure from his company, that he's not merely pretending.
Peter's even doing better in class now.
Peter liked Sirius once, admired his charisma and envied his brilliance, thought that maybe if he stayed near him a little of Sirius' charm would rub off on him. But Sirius insulted him one too many times, and admiration became resentment. Peter can tell when he's being patronised, and Sirius never bothers with subtlety.
It doesn't escape Peter that he is gaining much of the status Sirius used to hold and that Sirius, watching with empty eyes from a distance, is eating his heart out. There is a curious sort of justice about this that appeals to him. Peter will never laugh at Sirius, the way Sirius used to laugh at him, but even so he can't help exulting in his new-found acceptance.
Peter tells himself that no one told Sirius to play that trick and that Sirius needs the lesson he's learning now. He played no part in Sirius' fall, even though he does benefit from the event.
Peter doesn't really feel sorry for Sirius. Not when he's had time to think about it.
VI. James
Remus is doing surprisingly well without Sirius. Sirius is doing unsurprisingly badly. James' temper has cooled, and he feels sorry for Sirius now. It disturbs James to see that Sirius is accepting the place Remus has marked out for him. He doesn't bother to arrange his fringe so that it hides the spot with oddly short hair, and even though the bruise on his cheek has faded completely and Sirius has perfect skin, Sirius' face still seems strangely scarred.
James is worried. He had thought Remus only wanted to make Sirius sweat for a few days; it's been almost a month and Remus has shown no sign of letting up. Remus' control is perfect and James suspects that Remus is capable of carrying on indefinitely.
The Gryffindors have largely buckled; they're talking to Sirius again. Sirius makes perfunctory conversation and lapses into silence.
Sirius doesn't try to attract Remus' notice anymore. Sirius doesn't anything.
For the first time since that terrible morning, James mentions Sirius to Remus, while they are in the library and Peter and Sirius are at Divination. James implies that perhaps Sirius has finally learnt his lesson and has had enough punishment.
Remus says nothing, and continues reading. James bites his lip, waiting, and then Remus looks up with unreadable grey eyes and tells him in a curiously neutral tone that what James does is entirely up to him.
That afternoon James sits with Sirius at Defense Against the Dark Arts as his work partner, and smiles at the startled gleam in Sirius' dark eyes. But then Sirius stares past his shoulder to where Remus and Severus sit together, each writing silently, doing the work of two people, pretending the other isn't there, and some of the light goes out of his eyes.
James talks to Sirius, and Sirius talks back. Peter, relenting when he sees that James has, talks to Sirius, and Sirius talks back. There's even the odd bout of laughter. But it's not the same, playing cards with three people while Remus sits in bed reading with the dark red curtains drawn, and Peter wanders off after a while, leaving James with Sirius in the middle of what suddenly seems like a very empty floor.
James plays chess with Sirius, and he wins every time.
VII. Remus
Remus won't admit it, not even to himself, but he misses Sirius. The bandages are off and he's survived another full moon without Padfoot present. Without Padfoot it's not safe for Prongs and Wormtail; wolves like venison and a rat isn't much of a threat. Remus can see the question in James' eyes, asking what the point was in spending three years learning how to be Animagi to stave off the moon five or six times, only to stop again.
The implication is clear: Moony, please. It's been long enough. Please forgive Sirius.
Sirius has become almost normal, now that James and Peter are speaking to him again. He's even making fun of James and Lily. Lily has finally consented to go to Hogsmeade with James, and James is over the moon while trying to pretend that he'd been expecting it all the time.
Remus, of course, has always been normal.
He tries not to remember waking up, lying on his back on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, freezing cold and bleeding in a dozen places, and sobbing in pain and cold and loneliness.
Remus knows that if Sirius had come then and apologised, he would have forgiven him immediately. But it was James and Peter who came to collect him, and if anyone noticed the sticky trails of tears on Remus' face they didn't point it out, and the moment passed.
VIII. Sirius
Remus is speaking to Sirius again, nothing more than hello and goodbye, but Sirius is so happy that he sputters incoherently until Remus smiles the faint smile of the acquaintance and walks away. He's done this for about a week, and James seems terribly amused by Sirius' continued inability to respond. James has assured him that Remus is not Snape and can't hold a grudge forever, and that things are improving, but Sirius isn't so sure. No one can ever quite tell, with Remus. Sirius doesn't know how far back Remus' memory runs, and even in Remus' clear grey eyes he can't see any more than what Remus lets him.
Sirius is acutely frightened of losing Remus' trust again, not that he currently has any. But Remus' willingness to greet him indicates that Sirius has a chance of earning it back, even though it's taking hell out of Remus to leave himself open again.
Sirius tells himself that this time he'll get it right, this time he really will change, this time he really will leave Severus Snape alone – unless provoked, of course.
This time, he won't screw up.
Sirius knows that it's not the same anymore. But he hopes that it will be, eventually.
In my version of events, Sirius manages to restore relations completely after about half a year of desperate trying. It would have been longer, but Remus has a soft heart. Nevertheless, I think this was good for Sirius, who was a complete and utter jerk in fifth year as seen in Order of the Phoenix. He probably had to do a lot of growing up in a hurry.
I stubbornly maintain that James must have been the ringleader of the Marauders for a reason, and that reason is (hopefully) not because he's Harry's father. And so I believe that James was perhaps never quite as arrogant as Sirius, although they're probably equally bad as far Severus is concerned.
I think the tenses were a bit screwed at points. Sorry. I'm not used to the format.
On the bright side, I appear to have worked off the Battle School vibes.
End
Notes: