A/N: Spun from a thought I had one night and couldn't stop writing. I do hope you'll enjoy it and please review! Rated T, but will have some very strong language at times. May be moved into M category, not sure. Just a warning!

I'd like to point out that this is not a chapter, it's just the Prologue, and the conversation below was taken from a chapter I already have going. I just posted this first because it seemed like an interesting thing to do.

Disclaimer: Far from being the great J.K. so don't get it twisted. I do this for fun, not financial profit.

EXCEPTION TO THE RULE

Prologue

James' POV

"I drink a lot now. Ever wonder why?" Sirius asks as he tumbles onto the chair directly across from mine, clearly intoxicated.

"Can't say that I do."

My attention switches back to my Potions essay due early tomorrow morning. Truthfully, my answer would be a lie. He had always been a reasonable drinker. Not too much, but just enough to get a little tipsy.

After I discovered Sirius passed out one night on the common room couch clutching a large bottle of Ogden's strongest firewhiskey, I'd been covertly wondering ever since. Lately, he'd made it a nightly custom. My presumption was that it had something to do with his family.

"Well, don't you want to know why?" He asks with a slight slur of his words. Confident that he will continue no matter if I say 'yes' or 'no', I remain silent. I really don't have time for his shit. He'll probably pass out within the next five minutes anyway.

"I think I should have been in Slytherin."

I pause from my writing, mentally digest his words, and turn my head to look at him. Where's this coming from? The Sirius I know would never, ever make such a statement, completely pissed or not. Or maybe he would, he's said some ridiculous things in the past. Lost in my own probing thoughts, I can only muster one stupid word in response.

"Okay…"

The hand holding his drink of choice for the night sloshes the burgundy liquid around in vortex, entrancing its owner. His glassy eyes are glued to the bottle and I can't even begin to guess what thoughts are running through his head.

"It's the truth, you know. I have all the qualities of the classic Slytherin. I'm…what's the word? Manipulative…yeah, that's it. And calculating and ruthless. I'm just like them, only nobody sees it 'cause I'm a reformed Gryffindor now."

My brain is racking as I can only imagine what he's talking about. He's sprawled over the chair now- one leg swung over the armrest and his own arm draped over the back of the chair- and staring blankly into the roaring fire that is in close proximity. His eyes reflect the wild and erratic flames, but it's as if they contain a fire of their own.

"I'm just like Malfoy and Snape or any one of those bloody Death Eaters. Maybe even Voldemort. I'm destructive, a poison in the body. I ruin lives, James. I always have. I've ruined mine and Marlene's."

What the hell is he on about?

As if reading my mind, his free hand plunges underneath his robes and into the pocket of his slacks, emerging with what appears to be a crumpled beige envelope. We are both staring at it with great deliberation when he finally speaks.

"And you wouldn't believe it, but I've ruined yours too."

In a heartbeat my feet are on the floor and I'm closing the gap between his arm holding the envelope and myself. His words echo in my head like the beating of a gong.

"And hers."

I can feel the color drain from my face and my heart rate speeding up. For the first time, I get a good look at the envelope. The lone word written on the envelope forms my first name in an elegant cursive. The handwriting belongs to the only woman to ever capture my heart, the woman who will always have it.

Lily.

"Sirius, what the fuck have you done?"