Thanks for the reviews! I know I'm slightly late, but since this is a longer chapter, I hope that makes up for it. For those of you who read Always, chapter 73 is running late too, but I'm guessing you already anticipated that.

HelloIt'sTrianna- Thanks for the review and the suggestion! I really like that idea, so I might just have to put in a Sorting Hat scene sometime later during first year.

almanera- Thanks for the review! I don't think I've ever considered the similarities between Harry and Sirius until you brought it up, but thinking of it now, I can see it. I'm not 100% on how much James will know about Sirius's family life. I don't think he'll ever know the entire story, but it's safe to say that he will know more than what Hermione and Ron knew about the Dursley's. There will be a Dorea and James scene about Sirius, and just about her family in general in Hero. For this story, there will be a Dorea and Sirius scene in his early years. I'm still uncertain about how to handle their initial meeting, on Dorea's part. I'm leaning towards wariness or some type of reaction that isn't immediately . There will eventually be some backstory on Dorea, which will explain why. Again, I don't know how much will be in here, but it will definitely be in Hero.

Chapter Eight- The Seventh Detention

1971

It was the seventh detention.

According to McGonagall, it would be their last, but Sirius knew it wouldn't be for long. There was simply too many rules at Hogwarts and too little to do. Anyone sane would have done something to require detention.

Evidently, he and James were the only sane ones. For the first six nights, they were the only ones in detention. They had polished trophies, mopped up bathroom floors, and alphabetized the library shelves. There always seemed to be someone, whether it was a cantankerous Filch or a Madam Pince holding an alarmingly heavy book in an arguably lethal way, threatening him and James of the consequences of talking to one another, but they didn't need to bother. He and James hadn't uttered a word to each other.

That didn't mean they had ignored each other completely. In fact, they had done quite the opposite. The entire purpose of detention was not to make silver shine or the floors gleam. It was to sabotage the opponent and make their remaining hours a complete and utter hell. It was a constant battle, and neither Gryffindor dared to lower his defenses for even a second.

There had been tampered polish that caused mold grow on the trophies, much to Filch's wrath. There had been a few special ingredients added to the bucket of water, so potent that the floors were still slippery, so slippery that they had been taped off to the public ever since he, James, and Filch had underwent what Sirius privately thought of as the Great Slipping Disaster. There had been a hexed mop that had whacked anyone using it in the face, a jinxed dustpan that wouldn't hold still, and an arguably evil broom. There had even been a small fire in the library, followed by a slight flood.

James was good, Sirius was willing to admit, rather grudgingly. But he was better.

As Sirius stood there, waiting impatiently for Filch's instructions, he sneaked a peek at James, whose nose still bore a bandage from the mop incident. Sirius should have glared, but all he felt was a threat of a smile tug at his lips. He should have hated James, and maybe he did, but he couldn't deny that the past six nights had been entertaining, almost entertaining enough to forget the sting of Bellatrix's words. There was something refreshing in having an equal as an opponent, an equal who seemed to relish the challenge as much as he did.

But the urge to smile was brief, and once it had passed, Sirius gritted his teeth, resolving not to repeat that alarming reaction. James was the enemy and Sirius was a Black. He couldn't very well let a blood traitor beat him at his own game. And he wouldn't. He had plans for the lines they were to finish that night, and those plans consisted of a simple quill switch and a pot of Disappearing Ink.

"-Forbidden Forest."

Abruptly, Sirius stopped plotting. Slowly, he lifted his pale gray eyes to gawk at Filch in disbelief. Surely he had misheard the git, or rather, the git had made a mistake in his speech. No one had mentioned anything about the Forbidden Forest. He may not have been the wizarding world's greatest listener, but surely he would have remembered something about the Forbidden Forest.

"You said we were going to do lines in the library," James protested, speaking Sirius's thoughts.

"And now I'm saying you're going to the Forbidden Forest," Filch growled, but there was no denying the grim smile that slowly curled on his thin, colorless lips. "Maybe you should have thought twice before trying to burn the library down. If it were up to me, you'd be whipped…thrown in the dungeons…starved…"

Sirius nearly laughed aloud. He had to admit James had a stroke of genius. He had tried to frame his enemy, and in the nick of time, the blood traitor had foiled his plan, somehow managing to frame Mrs. Norris with a matchbox at the same time. Filch had been far from convinced, screaming and hissing that his two charges were responsible, but nothing could be proven. As far as everyone else knew, Mrs. Norris had started the fire, and the two boys were heroes that saved the library. It wasn't their fault that they had accidentally almost drowned it.

With his fleeting mirth, the spark of alarm in Sirius's head was promptly extinguished, replaced by a new flicker of interest. The Forbidden Forest. Even its name sounded like an adventure. An adventure full of possibilities. Perhaps he could feed James to a werewolf. He stole another glance at James, anticipating to drink in his fear, but to his annoyance, a sly grin was creeping up on James's face. He must have felt the weight of Sirius's stare, and instead of pretending not to notice, his hazel eyes brazenly locked with the stormy gray, reflecting the challenge they found there.

The Forbidden Forest, Sirius decided, would be perfect.

An approaching shadow broke their eye contact, with both Sirius and James looking up at the hulking figure of Rubeus Hagrid. The gamekeeper was so enormous that Sirius had to tilt his head just to meet his crinkly black eyes. He wasn't quite like anyone that Sirius had ever met; half-giants didn't fall under Walburga's category of approval, and the part of him that remembered her many lectures on the lower breeds was wary. But wariness had never been a strong trait of Sirius's, always being forgotten in favor of curiosity, and when the gamekeeper gruffly advised Filch that his presence was no longer necessary, curiosity won out. Perhaps it was because his plain clothes, rough accent, and merry eyes, were all characteristics that Walburga would find abominable, but there was something about Hagrid that fascinated Sirius, something that he couldn't help liking.

It was a feeling that intensified on the way to the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid didn't order them around with Filch's mundane threats, nor was he feeble and easily walked over. He was firm, but genial, and so unused was Sirius to the sort of behavior from an elder that he began to think it was a façade, just waiting to crack.

But it never did.

"Yer a Black?" Hagrid glanced over his shoulder towards Sirius as he pushed aside the heavy branches in their path. The motion was so effortless; it was as if they were as fragile as matchsticks.

Sirius tensed at the question, but Hagrid seemed only curious, nothing more. "Yeah," he said finally.

"Didn't 'spect ter see yeh in red."

"Neither did I," said Sirius bitterly, regretting the words the moment he had uttered them. Even though anyone in their right mind would have known he hadn't been expecting it, the confession was too truthful for his liking.

"Yeh'll be alright," Hagrid replied easily, not at all fazed. "Yeh're not like some I've 'ad. Yeh know Bellatrix? I took 'er here once. She didn' like that. She was shoutin' all kinds of names an' I caught 'er tryin' to hex a unicorn. Said it was in 'er way."

It was the sort of story that would have horrified anyone, but to Sirius, it brought only a painful wistfulness and a glimmer of anger reserved for his cousin. The cousin who had abandoned him and thrown him out to the wolves. Or rather, the lions.

"I wouldn't know," Sirius said shortly, feeling James's eyes on him. "We're not close."

"'Spect yeh're better off," Hagrid clapped a stiffening Sirius's shoulder. Before Sirius could digest the well-meaning gesture that he was so unaccustomed to, Hagrid suddenly came to a stop, nearly causing James to collide into him. "Wands out? We'll split up 'ere. You two an' Fang will go that way," he motioned towards the west with his crossbow. "Yeh'll be safe with 'im. An' I'll 'ead over there. Send red sparks with yer wands if yeh need me."

Sirius looked down at the boarhound doubtfully, who was happily writhing about in a pile of twigs and leaves, hardly resembling worthy protection. James looked equally dubious, but when Sirius didn't protest, he didn't either. Seeing this, Sirius felt the need to voice his feigned nonchalance, hoping to unnerve James even further. "Sounds fine to me."

"Excellent," James added quickly with rapid nods of his head, not to be outdone.

Hagrid looked a little bemused by James's sudden burst of excitement, but wisely decided not to comment.

Once Hagrid had lumbered off in the opposite direction, an awkward silence unfolded, with the exception of the twigs snapping beneath Fang's weight. Hazel eyes and gray darted all around the forest, looking everywhere, but directly towards each other.

"Well then, I s'pose we better go," James said, speaking to Sirius for the first time.

Sirius was feeling less charitable. Not wanting to answer James, he merely shrugged.

"C'mon, Fang," James told the dog without much enthusiasm.

The boarhound kept rolling.

"I said c'mon Fang," ordered James with decidedly more effort.

Fang continued to ignore him.

In spite of himself, Sirius felt the ghost of his amused smile return. He thought he had hid it well, but he was mistaken, for James promptly called him out on it.

"Like you could do any better," James scoffed.

The truth was Sirius had always had a way with dogs. He was fond of dogs, ever since his uncle Alphard had picked up a stray that had been wandering around Knockturn Alley, and they seemed to sense it. Dogs were loyal, a wizard's best friend. They didn't care whether you were a failure or a success, and certainly not if you were a Gryffindor instead of a Slytherin. Saying none of this, Sirius only arched an eyebrow and turned to the boarhound, his voice authoritative and clear. "Fang. Let's go."

Immediately, Fang turned over onto his stomach, and leapt onto his paws. He then trotted obediently towards Sirius, his tail wagging as he did so. Feeling very superior, Sirius gave the dog a pat on the head, shooting James a look that plainly said, well?

"Coincidence."

"Right."

Their task was to collect Potions ingredients for Slughorn. Hagrid had spent the first few minutes explaining where and what to look for, but Sirius hadn't especially paid much attention the gamekeeper. He had been much more interested in looking around for any signs of werewolves or other beasts. Judging from the way James kept sneaking peeks at him for guidance, he had a hunch that the other boy didn't know what he was doing either.

Sirius suddenly caught sight of a white flower. Feeling inspired, he plucked it from the ground, certain that it had to be one ingredient out of the millions that Hagrid had mentioned. Maybe completing detention would be achievable after all.

"What's that?" James asked.

Sirius hadn't expected to be asked. Caught off guard, he frantically tried to recall something Hagrid had said. "Apostle."

That didn't sound right. James's bewildered face only confirmed his doubt. Sirius cleared his throat. "I meant asphodel."

That sounded better. Sirius silently congratulated himself.

"Oh." James's face didn't clear. Instead, his forehead puckered, his eyes hurriedly scanning the ground. Swiftly, he tugged at a small plant, and on the third attempt, managed to remove a stem with a cluster of pale green leaves. "Sage."

"I knew that," Sirius said irritably, annoyed at James's self-assured manner, even though he was positive that the other boy didn't know the difference from sage and stinging nettles. Sirius hoped it was stinging nettle. Already bored with the assignment, he glanced around, searching for something to push James into. A swamp sounded fitting.

"Let's go over there," James suggested, motioning toward a nearby thicket.

Sirius looked at him suspiciously.

"It's not a trick or anything," James sounded impatient, running a hand through his hair.

Sirius still wasn't convinced. He didn't know what James could have done while he was right there, but he wasn't about to follow the Quidditch obsessed Gryffindor's lead into the Forbidden Forest. Trust was for the naïve and the desperate. Not Blacks. "After you."

His misgiving was evident, along with his disdain. An expression of pure exasperation crossed James's features, and without another thought, he stormed past Sirius, muttering under his breath. "You are so paranoid-"

He never finished his sentence. There was a terrible cracking sound, a muffled shout, and then silence. James had vanished.

Numbly, Sirius stared at the site of James's disappearance, a whimpering Fang at his side. It was dark, but the bars of starlight that poured in between the trees illuminated the area just enough to show that James was truly gone. Sirius didn't move. James was gone and he hadn't even have to push him into a pit of quicksand. He should have been overjoyed, but all he could do was stare at the scene and try to comprehend what had just occurred. Perhaps there was a Disappearing Curse…

"ARE YOU GOING TO HELP ME OR NOT?" A very familiar voice howled.

Sirius blinked at the unexpected sound. Fang let out a single bark of joy. Not understanding why he didn't seize the opportunity to run away and hope that they didn't find James for at least a week, Sirius cautiously neared James's disappearing spot, having no desire to be its next victim.

"Down here, you git!"

Sirius's eyes fell down and onto the gaping pit in the ground, partially obscured by broken branches and leaves. Feeling relieved that there was no need to worry about a Disappearing Curse, Sirius gingerly peeked over the edge. Even in the darkness, he could make out the untidy hairs on James's head.

And Sirius began to laugh. It wasn't a sound that he had uttered since Hogwarts, not really, and it was almost foreign to his ears. This was too perfect, even better than the various scenarios he had dreamed up in his mind, even the swamp one, and he didn't even have to lift a finger.

"Right. Go ahead and laugh. I get why someone from a family of Slytherins would find this funny."

Sirius was amused enough to allow that particular remark to slide. By then, he was doubled over, laughing even though his sides ached and his cheeks were beginning to hurt. If anyone else had been with them, he would have suggested throwing a Quaffle back and forth over the hole, just to see James try to grab it.

"You're a prat. You know that?" James said furiously.

That captured his attention. No one, least of all a Potter, called him a prat. The laughter died on Sirius's lips as he narrowed his eyes, kneeling down so that James would have a better view of his death stare. "You're the one who was thick enough to go running ahead in the Forbidden Forest."

"Only because you were too scared to!" James shot back.

Maybe he was more than a Gryffindor than he had thought. Just then, a coward was just as bad as a prat in Sirius's book, especially the way James said it. His pale cheeks flushed red with anger as he whipped his wand toward James's tousled head. "Take that back, Potter!"

"Why should I, Black?"

Sirius could see the tip of a wand aimed up at his direction. He spared a glance over his shoulder. Eyes returning to the pit, he used his spare hand to latch onto a sturdy looking stick. A small grin settled on his lips as he dipped it down below, waving it enticingly above James. "Or I won't help you up."

"You wouldn't."

"I suppose they'll find you eventually," Sirius mused. "In a week or so. If the werewolves don't find you first. There's supposed to be a full moon soon, right? Good luck with that."

James muttered something below his breath. Sirius caught his name, along with several nasty words, and he couldn't help but smirk. For a long while, it was quiet, all except for the branches brushing against each other in a sudden gust of wind, their leaves whispering as they quivered in the air. There was a howl in a distance, one that Sirius couldn't help but silently applaud for the timing.

"Fine," James spoke up grudgingly after the howl had ended. "I take it back."

"Say it," Sirius ordered, enjoying every second of James's resentment.

"I, James Charlus Potter," James cleared his throat and when he spoke again, his voice had taken a theatrical turn. "Take back what I said about Sirius something Black being scared."

Sirius rolled his eyes. From what he had see of James so far, the Gryffindor had a gift for turning anything and everything into a dramatic moment that revolved all around him. If given a match, James could make the flames swell up to a full spotlight, and within seconds, it would be a blazing inferno. Even, it now seemed, while he was in the face of defeat with only his enemy and a dog as an audience.

Lowering himself onto his stomach, Sirius let the stick carelessly swing down, not especially caring if he accidentally poked James in the eye. "Orion."

"What?"

"My middle name," Sirius said, feeling strange that he was freely revealing information about himself, even something as small as a middle name. "It's Orion."

"Your initials are S.O.B?" James snickered.

Sirius ignored him. "Can you reach it?"

"Lower it a little."

Sirius did so.

"I said a little."

"That is a little," Sirius snapped.

"Well, it's not enough," James snapped back. "You need a better stick."

"Maybe you're just short," Sirius's eyes were becoming used to the darkness. He silently measured the distance between the twig and James's head, wondering if it was feasible to bash him on the head. If he just stretched his arm out enough…

"My height happens to be the ideal height for a Seeker," James said with as much dignity as he could muster. "Roderick Plumpton was the same height as me."

Sirius scowled. Unless his arm grew a few inches or he found a better stick, he would have to wait for James to climb onto the surface before he could clobber him. "Oh yeah, was he a world renowned midget?"

"He only set the world record for catching the Snitch in three and a half seconds," James said importantly.

"I liked my version better," Sirius said dryly, lowering the stick as far as his arm would allow it. "Can you reach it now?"

James was sullen. "No."

With a dreary sigh, Sirius went flat onto his stomach and hung his arm over the edge, stick in hand. If Walburga could see him now, there was a good chance that she would murder him. Unless he was using it to poke the blood traitor to death. "Now?"

"Finally!" James cheered with audible relief. He grabbed the twig and just as Sirius began to yank him up, it snapped in half. There was a thump as James's feet hit the earth below.

Both boys groaned.

"Do you hear that?" James asked suddenly.

Sirius was hoping he hadn't. The howl that had sounded faraway enough to be on the other end of the forest didn't seem quite so far away now. "Er James?"

"Yeah?"

"I think this is a trap," Sirius said. "You know, for food."

"Sirius?"

"Yeah?"

"Hurry."

"Just shut up," Sirius said irritably. "And jump higher."

Surprisingly, James obeyed. He made a few more valiant attempts, but there was no denying it. The distance to Sirius's hand was simply too far.

Sirius was beginning to run out of ideas. He turned his head back again and spotted a root. Rising up to test it with a firm jerk, he was pleased to see it remained unyielding. Hooking his foot underneath, he lowered himself flat onto his stomach again, now able to sink down a good few inches lower, head and chest falling over the edge.

It was even darker now, and though the root was firm above his foot, there was still the disconcerting sensation of being dangerously close to death. As the howl sounded again, Sirius was beginning to wonder what he had found so entertaining just minutes before, and more than anything, he wished that they could just be done with the stupid pit.

There was a rustling sound in the bushes. The hairs on the back of his neck rose, and a stab of fear chilled his blood. Instinctively, Sirius began to pull himself up, but as he did so, a sliver of moonlight revealed James's dirt streaked face, and the fear that flashed across his hazel eyes, visible even behind his grimy glasses.

Cursing himself, Sirius forced himself to ignore the movement in the trees. He stretched out his hand again. "Hurry up," he said urgently.

There was a look of incredulity on James's face when Sirius didn't bolt, a feeling that mirrored one Sirius was experiencing. The Forbidden Forest was legendary, one of the most dangerous places in all of Britain. The natural reaction for any wizard would have been to flee. Any Black would have fled without fearing loss of dignity for self-preservation was dignity.

But Sirius didn't have any dignity left. "Do you want me to leave you here?" he yelled, feeling uncharacteristically panicked. "Grab my hand."

Instantly, James sprang into action and leapt. He may have looked skinny, but he certainly didn't feel like it. Sirius nearly dropped him the moment he had him.

"What do you weigh?" Sirius snarled in frustration and fear, struggling to haul James over. The falling face forward sensation was greater than ever and his arm was threatening to pull out of his socket. He didn't even want to think about the mysterious creature watching them, and Fang whimpering at his feet did little to help.

"So now you're going on about my weight?"

With all his strength, Sirius wrenched James's arms. It would have worked, if only the root hadn't snapped. Before he could realize what was happening, James fell back into the pit, Sirius tumbling in after him. Just as Sirius was about to shout out, he landed on the ground- hard.

He didn't hit dirt. Instead, he found a body underneath. A very alive, irritated one.

"I can't believe you're complaining about my weight when you weigh-" James grumbled.

"Shut up," Sirius hissed, not daring to move.

If James was about to argue, the sniffing sound above them silenced him, at least for a quarter of a second.

"It's not a werewolf, right?" James whispered hopefully as Sirius shifted over to what little room there was left. "It's not a full moon. So it's just a regular wolf."

Sirius sent him a dark look. "When we're eaten, remind me to tell you how relieved I am that it's just a regular wolf."

James shut up after that.

The sniffing sounds were more audible than ever. Sirius turned his wand over in his hands, searching his mind for anything useful to rescue him. James studied his wand.

"You're a Black. Can't you curse him or something?"

There was something in James's question that irked Sirius. It wasn't so much the words, those were actually not too far off, but it was the manner he spoke them in, the easy assumption that he lived and breathed dark magic.

"What sort of wizard do you think I am?" Sirius said hotly, especially not liking the implication behind the 'something'. "Just so you know, I'm not evil."

"I didn't say-" James faltered under Sirius's steely gaze, visibly uneasy as he distractedly ruffled his hair. "Well, don't you call Muggle-borns, you know?"

"Mudbloods," Sirius said coolly.

"That," James seemed to recover his usual spark, his indignation curing him of any speechlessness. "They're people too. You just assume they're beneath you and all that rubbish, just because their name isn't Malfoy or Lestrange."

"You assumed I was evil because my name is Black," Sirius pointed out evenly.

"I didn't say you were evil," James shifted uncomfortably, clearing not liking where the conversation was headed. "It's just that…everyone knows about the Blacks."

"My family isn't evil either," Sirius said, suddenly feeling very defensive. Perhaps his family was extremely prideful of their lineage, and tended to favor the Dark Arts, but that didn't make them evil. It was a cruel world drenched in filth, as Walburga so fond of saying, the survival of the fittest. More knowledge, especially that of dark magic, preserved their place in society. With it, they were untouchable. But how could he expect someone like James, a blood traitor, to understand that? When Sirius spoke again, it was barely above his breath. "And even if they were, I'm not anything like them. Or I would be in Slytherin."

James averted his eyes. "Sorry."

It was so soft that Sirius couldn't be sure if he had heard him correctly. Even if he had imagined it, it didn't matter. The last thing Sirius wanted to do was accept James's apology and have a heartwarming conversation in the bottom of a pit somewhere in the Forbidden Forest. As he continued to turn over his wand, his eyes flashed towards it suddenly.

"Red sparks," Sirius muttered. "Didn't Hagrid say to use red sparks?"

"Won't that let the wolf know we're here?" James looked wary.

"Like he didn't hear you," Sirius scoffed, already raising his wand. "So red sparks?"

"Red sparks," James agreed rather doubtfully.

Not feeling any less dubious, Sirius sent up a spray of sparks. Glowing brightly against the blanket of black, they lit up the tiny patch of dark forest like a dazzling shower of red stars. He and James watched the display, neither daring to utter a word. Half-expecting a wolf or some other creature with dripping fangs to dive into the pit, Sirius clenched his wand, his palms growing damp with sweat.

But no creature, wolf or not, came plummeting down. Instead, there was a long whine and the sound of paws scurrying away.

"Was that Fang or the wolf?" Sirius asked, more to himself than James.

At his name, there was a bark.

"Oh, now you're here," James grumbled. "It would've been nice to have you around, oh say, a few seconds ago when there was a wolf circling us."

There was a guttural growl.

"Never mind," James said quickly. "No harm done."

"Are you finished arguing with the boarhound now?" Sirius couldn't keep the annoyance from his voice. Now that it seemed like they were not about to be some Forbidden Forest creature's meal, he could feel a surge of his old anger return. He was tired of the Forbidden Forest, he was tired of being trapped in a pit, and most of all, he was tired of James.

"Aren't you touchy," James remarked, sounding bored by his rising temper.

"Well, this is your fault," Sirius couldn't resist saying.

James no longer looked quite so blasé. "I seem to remember you falling down too," he retorted.

"You're the one who got stuck in the first place. I, for some bloody reason, was trying to help you," Sirius exploded with an accusing look towards James. "If it weren't for you, I would be on my way back to Hogwarts right now!"

That was when it became clear. He wasn't angry with James. At least not as angry as he was with himself. If he had stuck to the Black way, he wouldn't even be in this situation. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear Bellatrix laughing at him.

James was quiet for a long time; so long that Sirius had stopped expecting an answer.

"Thanks."

Sirius only shrugged.

The silence that fell between them slowly wilted into awkwardness. Even though the pit was shrouded in shadows, both Gryffindors seemed determined to avoid looking at one another, each studying the dirt wall with feigned interest.

"Can I ask you something?" James asked suddenly.

Sirius made a noncommittal noise, already not liking the conversation was headed.

"What did you do to the water?"

"Oh," Sirius felt his anger give way to smugness. After all, James had managed to hit one of his favorite topics, and even if he wanted to be modest, he couldn't; he had done too well of a sabotage job on the floors. "That was my own invention. I mixed Zonko's Highly Hazardous Slippery Solution with a few drops of Infelix Infelicibus."

"What's that?" James asked curiously.

"Bottled bad luck," Sirius said with a touch of pride. Infelix was the twin brother of Felix, a concoction that was even more rare. He had nicked it from Orion's study. "It should've faded by now, but I think the Slippery Solution did something to it."

Sirius had predicted a snide comment about dark magic, even though Infelix didn't even scratch the surface of the Dark Arts. It was even sold in Diagon Alley, for Merlin's sake, at least it was every twenty years or so when the Apothecary was lucky enough to pick one up. But to his surprise, James looked only impressed.

"Wicked."

He shouldn't have been so startled. James may have been a defender of Mudbloods, but he was not snowy white and saint-like. Saints didn't have wicked minds, always scheming, always searching for more mischief like James was. A saint wouldn't have been nearly as interesting or nearly as fun.

It was quiet again. A question was hovering at Sirius's lips, the same question he had been longing to ask but struggling not to for the past week. The question that would drive him mad if he didn't learn the answer soon.

"The fire in the library…"

At the reminder of how he had successfully ruined Sirius's scheme, the corners of James's lips lifted slightly. "Yeah?"

"How did you frame Mrs. Norris?" Sirius demanded, trying to ignore that he was now officially swapping pranks and schemes with a blood traitor. He might as well blast himself off the Black tapestry and change his name to Weasley.

James lit up, looking as if Christmas had come early, and promptly began a very long, elaborate explanation. At first, Sirius watched him, listening intently, but after the first few minutes, his mind drifted elsewhere, somewhere far more troubling.

James's earlier words had struck a nerve. Sirius had always been taught Mudbloods were beneath him, even though no one had really told him why. Day after day, he was reminded that blood traitors were no better, that they were fools who had thrown everything away.

James prattled on a lot, and perhaps he did smile too much, but he wasn't a fool. Their little war had proved that much. From what Walburga had said about blood traitors, Sirius had anticipated that it would been a massacre rather than a war. But James had fought back, battle after battle, and maybe once or twice, if Sirius was being honest with himself, he had also managed to outwit him on more than one occasion. The Mrs. Norris incident was a particularly painful yet undeniably brilliant example.

"What are yeh doing down there?"

Abruptly, James stopped talking. He and Sirius exchanged sighs of relief as the giant figure above craned his neck down to peer at them. "Hagrid!"

"I saw sparks an' Fang came runnin' to get me," Hagrid chuckled. "Never got a student in a centaur trap before."

When Sirius tilted his head back, he could see the gamekeeper reaching into his massive coat, and to his disbelief, watched as Hagrid withdrew a long piece of rope. A small mouse was clinging to it, and he impatiently brushed it away and dangled the rope below.

"What else do you have in there, Hagrid?" James asked, echoing Sirius's amazement.

"This an' that. Parchment, pens, couple o' rock cakes, keys, an owl… I s'pose there's more dormice in there somewhere," Hagrid didn't seem to find anything peculiar about this. "Grab on. Both of yeh."

Sirius and James didn't have to be asked twice. Eagerly scrambling up, they each took ahold of the seemingly endless rope. As if they were only dormice, Hagrid heaved them up, only grunting at the final tug.

James looked even filthier under the glittering starlight. Sirius suspected that he didn't look much better. As James rattled on about werewolves and wolves and near death experiences to Hagrid, Sirius shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes, turning away.

The ice between James and him had thawed during the last few minutes in that darkened pit, but now that Sirius had his feet on the ground, both literally and metaphorically, he didn't have the vaguest idea to act. He may have been a Gryffindor, but he was still a Black, and Blacks and Potters weren't friends. That was just the way the wizarding world worked.

But Sirius didn't want to hate James.

James wasn't like anyone he had ever met before. He was idiotic at times and perhaps just a bit mental, but he was…happy. Like Sirius, he seemed to thrive on mischief, but unlike Sirius, he never seemed to face the consequences of it. He didn't seem to have a care in the world, other than living in the moment, and relishing it, and that was something Sirius longed for.

Just then, the two boys made eye contact. Both were wary as they looked at each other, as if they weren't quite sure what to make of each other or what had just happened. Hesitantly, James offered a tiny grin, and in spite of himself, Sirius grinned back.

"Want to try the broomstick hex on ol' Snivelly?" James hissed so that Hagrid couldn't hear.

Sirius didn't hesitate. "Definitely."

Sirius didn't want to worry anymore. He didn't want to memorize generation after generation of Blacks. He didn't want to sit quietly and stay out of mischief. He especially didn't want to be ashamed when he failed to do so. He didn't want to be the ideal Black, not when he had already tasted freedom. Maybe Bellatrix had already given in, but he wouldn't.

He wasn't just a Black. He was Sirius Orion Black, and for once, Sirius Orion Black wanted to live.

A/N- And yes, I'm aware that the "survival of the fittest" theory came from a 'Muggle'. Just as a reader commented, I really do like my irony.