Sirius lay in his bed, his stomach turning. Partly because of everything he'd consumed at the Halloween Feast- the Hogwarts elves had outdone themselves as always and for the sixth year in a row all four Marauders had gorged themselves nearly sick on pumpkin pasties, apple pies, treacle tarts, blocks of ice cream with every topping imaginable, bowls of every kind of biscuit and sweet, chocolate truffles and bars, brittles, barks, and a rather magnificent replica of the Hogwarts castle made entirely of confectionaries.

His stomach hurt, too, from laughing so hard he got a stitch in his side at the expression on all the male students' and professors' faces halfway through dinner. He and James had gone down to the kitchens that morning and very sweetly asked the elves to make sure each person got a toffee; their effort to apologise for all the pranks they'd played over the last two months, they claimed. The delighted elves had obligingly included a toffee on each place setting. He, James, Remus, and Peter carefully swapped out their own for the untainted Honeyduke's toffees Tom had sent earlier in the week, and sat back to watch as, one by one, every male face went white and a number of hands shot down under the table. Even Professor Dumbledore had looked mildly alarmed for a moment, until he glanced over to the Gryffindor table with a raised brow, where the four boys were laughing uproariously as Madame Pomfrey tried to ascertain what was the matter with a poor Slytherin seventh year, who was close to fainting and refused to take his hands away from his privates.

Even though the memory made him smile ('I don't know what the matter is, young man, but that is hardly appropriate behaviour for the dinner table!'), his stomach flip flopped all over again as he listened carefully to see whether or not the others were asleep yet. He'd quickly snuck his robe and shoes under his blankets while the others were brushing their teeth, and hid the Marauder's Map in the pocket of his pyjama trousers.

The Map...

He didn't know what else he could do, really. If he ever wanted to learn any of Voldemort's plans, he had to offer some show of loyalty- but he couldn't do anything that would actually hurt anyone, or put them in danger. If he offered Voldemort a copy of the map, well, he wouldn't have anything they didn't, and even if he used it to sneak into the castle, Sirius would know about it, and would be able to warn someone first. In fact...maybe, tomorrow, he'd go tell Dumbledore or McGonagall about the tunnel to Hogsmeade. Just in case.

...Nah. What would be the point, really? The tunnel to the shack would still be open; Remus needed that one. He'd be cutting off their favourite and most necessary route for no real reason at all. Besides, Dumbledore probably knew about it already, ancient old bat that he was.

With that thought in mind, and James' snores, Remus' sighs, and Peter's snuffles in his ears, Sirius slipped on his shoes, shrugged into his robe, and crept from the dormitory.