Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. Original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. Not beta read; don't jinx, however corrective spells are more than welcome to be cast in my direction…

The Last Straw

'I want to trip inside your head

Spend the day there

To hear the things you haven't said…'

- U2, "Miracle Drug", 2004.

(I)

"I don't like it!" snapped Sirius in a loud voice and slammed his glass of firewhiskey down against the table with such force that a little of the clear liquid splattered Peter in the face, and his friends' drinks rattled.

Remus gave him a warning look and the barman, who happened to be walking past at that moment, seized a handful of Sirius's black hair, yanked the boy's head backwards not all that gently, and said with a bad-natured grin, "If that's my grog you're discussing, you can get your under-aged arses back out the door. I don't suppose you have any idea what kind of Hypogriff dung I'd be in if the authorities found you here."

James shot the barkeeper a bright smirk from the other side of the table. "Find us here? Never, Aberforth. We know which side our bread's buttered on, and all that trot. Besides, I've got my cloak." And he patted the inside pocket of his coat smugly.

Aberforth still had the hank of Sirius's hair in his hand, but he looked momentarily amused. "As if four big lads like yourselves are all going to fit under that thing anymore. You need your head read, son. And you need a haircut," he added to Sirius, who was clearly his favourite, and released him with a rough shove.

Sirius spluttered and glared up at him. "Well, that's rich, coming from you, Mr Hair-Down-To-His-Waist. You know I reckon Lennon must've met you when he wrote Come Together, you scraggly old goat." If Sirius felt Remus's kick beneath the table, he gave no sign of it. "Besides, I wasn't talking about the firewhiskey, it's just fine. I was talking about our little resident wannabe Death Eaters up at the school, if you really want to know."

"Heh," grunted Aberforth, "No, boys, not in the least bit desirous to know about that. I got better things to do and I'd hate to be hit by a wave of adult responsibility and feel the urge to discuss the matter with my brother, you know, that would be a dark day in my life. Happy drinking, lads." With a grimace he disappeared behind the bar and they could hear the noisy clinking of glasses.

Sirius snorted and looked back at his mates. "Yeah, and I could just imagine that."

Peter cleared his throat. "Oh yes… 'So, Aberforth, how did you hear this?' 'Well, they were drinking firewhiskey in my pub…'" He brushed a mess of sandy hair from his eyes and grinned as his friends laughed appreciatively; Peter did a fine impersonation of just about anyone.

"Anyway," continued Sirius with a careless hand motion after the laughter had subsided, "It's not as if we need the Cloak anymore anyway. I'd like to see old Ab's face if I did a Padfoot when he wasn't looking and jumped up on the bar."

Remus shook his head at him over his butterbeer. "You really want to stop going on about that all the time, Sirius. Someone's going to end up hearing you who actually cares that it's illegal and then we'll be the ones in Hypogriff dung. Not," he paused with a slight grin, "that the drink in your hand isn't technically illegal enough, but I don't think they chuck you in Azkaban for under-age drinking. Apart from that, it's all very well for you lot to become a travelling zoo at the snap of your fingers, but you know I can't. Or at least – I could – I suppose – without the potion – but I hardly…" he paused, "Anyway, the Cloak has its uses. Which," he added with a grim look in James's direction, "You probably don't want to advertise that loudly either."

"Oh, thanks for that little speech, Dad," drawled James and ran a hand through his hair. Peter chuckled, a bit too sycophantly.

Sirius rolled his eyes at him, "Look, honestly though, I don't like it. He's been creeping around her like she's got 'Accio Greaseball' tattooed on her forehead ever since we started school, but it's gotten worse since you strung him upside down, Prongs."

The boys grinned slightly at the memory then Remus, who never quite approved but never quite said anything either, shrugged. "They were friends even before they started school. He probably regrets calling her a Mudblood."

James stared at him. "She never told me that. About the friends thing, I mean."

Remus chuckled. "Well, that's the shock of the day, given that she barely manages to stand in the same room as you, James."

James poked his tongue out then took a swill of his drink and said, "Fine. You never told me that, either."

The werewolf shrugged, the sleeves of his frequently patched jumper wobbling slightly; it was several sizes too lage for him. "You never asked. But that's what she told me once, that they come from the same town and it was Snape who told her that she's a witch, even before she got her letter." His brow creased. "He's somehow involved in the whole business about her sister too, but I haven't quite worked out how yet."

James scowled. "You spend way too much time with Lily Evans, Moony."

Remus smiled serenely. "Jealous?"

Sirius roared with laughter and slapped Remus on the back. "You want to watch him, Prongs, we've made a real wizard out of him and now he's likely to get the witch right out from under your nose."

James still looked sour, but his smile across the table at Remus was genuine enough. It was quite clear that he was jealous of Remus's close friendship, but it was also quite clear that he didn't really believe she could possibly find his scruffy friend more attractive than him. The concept of a meeting of minds was not something taken all that seriously by James Potter. He worked on the principle that, in the end, everything in life was like catching the Snitch – persevere long enough and it'll end up in your hand with its little golden wings beating brightly. So would Lily, in the end. In the meantime, Remus could have his fun; James was as generous as he was confident.

"Could any of you actually focus here?" demanded Sirius impatiently and tapped his glass against the table again. "It doesn't actually matter which one of us Lily likes, in the end she's still our girl, the Marauder's girl, isn't she? We're all agreed on that." He glanced around the table and the other three boys nodded earnestly. "Well, I think it's real this time. I've been watching him, Snivellus. I think he's using Legilimency on her. He's probably a spy."

All around the table, the Marauders sat up straighter and stared at him over their drinks.

"What?" demanded James in the end.