The following characters are not my creation or property; they are used without permission, intent of infringement or expectation of profit. This story was written as part of Fan The Vote. Thanks are greatly due to my betas, Tehomet and Penknife. Feedback can be sent to yahtzee55555@yahoo.com

**
BREAKING UP THE BAND
By Yahtzee
**

March, 1979

"Thanks for doing this," Sirius said, pushing his trunk in the corner alongside James' second-best broom. "Short notice, and all that."

James tried to smile at Sirius; it felt awkward and stiff, not real at all, but it was as close as he'd come to smiling for the past month. "It'll be good to have someone else in the flat. It's been so ≠ quiet." Then he forced out a laugh. "And if anyone can put an end to peace and quiet, it's you."

"I'll try my damnedest."

When Sirius flopped on the couch beside him, obviously as tired and wrung-out as James felt himself, James wondered if this was truly such a good idea after all. Would Sirius have moved out of Remus' place if he hadn't had somewhere else to go? Two years ago, James had been unable to fathom the idea that his two closest friends could be together as lovers; now, he found it difficult to think of them apart.

But not all his misgivings were for Remus' and Sirius' sake. James still wanted, very badly, to believe that Lily would come through the door any day now ≠ any hour, any minute ≠ and say she'd made a mistake, that nothing had to change, not ever. And then the world would right itself, instead of spinning wildly off-axis as it had done ≠ hell, ever since they left Hogwarts, really.

Lily had been gone a month, though, and he needed some help on the rent, and if taking in Sirius meant it was harder for her to come back, well, she ought to have considered that. James repeated this to himself, surprised at how pathetic even his inner voice could sound.

Sirius craned his head for a look into the kitchenette, then grimaced. "Have you washed the dishes since she's been gone?"

"If I wanted to spend my time casting Scouring charms, I'd have gone into domestic arts, not Auror training." He'd been neat enough while Lily still lived there, but since her departure James hadn't much seen the point.

"Exactly."

"So ≠ what do you want to do now?" Only after James asked it did he realize how very odd it sounded; flatmates didn't have to plan all their activities around one another. Not the way lovers did.

And then he thought ≠ God, what a relief.

He started laughing, and Sirius joined in. "What do I want to do now?" Sirius pulled out his wand and aimed at the far wall of the kitchenette. "I want to live in a proper flat, that's what. Dubblegemmibi!"

Yellow-orange sparks shot from the end of Sirius' wand, zooming across to the far wall and spreading across it in a shimmer of liquid fire. James watched, impressed, as the light traveled all the way across the wall, covering it from floor to ceiling, from kitchenette to dining nook to foyer ≠ all of about 4 meters. Then it shimmered brighter, reflecting the entire interior of the flat, as if it had become a wide mirror. The orange-mirrored surface shivered once, solidifying, then shattered into a thousand pieces that fell to the floor and went up in shimmering dust.

The reflection remained. No, James realized, it wasn't a reflection any longer ≠ he and Sirius weren't in it. But the flat had just doubled in size, with a reversed copy of itself now attached.

"Brilliant!" He jumped up from the couch to walk into his new, roomy dining area. "Wherever did you learn that?"

"Can't tell you all my secrets." Sirius looked ridiculously pleased with himself. "It's probably forbidden by your lease, if you read the small print, but we can mask it from the landlord soon as we get some Spacklespark Potion."

The kitchenette was now a kitchen, though James thought they could have done without two sinks. At least the dirty dishes hadn't doubled as well. He turned around to grin at Sirius. "This is going to be fun."

"Oh, yes, it is." Putting his feet up on the arm of the sofa, Sirius crossed his hands behind his head. "We've got the band back together, James."

James opened a cupboard and pulled out the firewhiskey he'd so carefully left alone for the previous month. "Back together. And it's high damn time."

**

"People don't marry as young in the Muggle world as they do in the Wizarding world," Lily said, just over the rim of the coffee cup she held in both hands. "It's far more sensible, really."

Remus could have reminded her that he had a Muggle parent himself, and therefore understood these things, but he didn't. He quite understood that Lily was talking only to fill the silence.

They had gone to a Muggle tea shop, an old, unfashionable place that Remus found vaguely comforting. The floral print of the bedraggled curtains reminded him of the cabin in Scotland where his family had spent their summers, after the bite. It was far away from anyone who could know, anyone who could be hurt. Remus had never found it lonely.

Now ≠ in the heart of London, with Lily only a few feet away ≠ he felt more alone than he ever had in the cabin.

"Petunia's getting married this summer. She's four years older than I am, and my parents say she's too young." She set down her coffee and ran the index finger of her right hand over the diamond ring she still wore on her left. "I hadn't told them about James and I yet. I thought ≠ maybe, after Petunia's wedding ≠ oh, I don't know what I thought. Just as well I didn't mention it."

"You're sure, then? You and James ≠ you won't work it out?"

Lily shrugged. "I love him. I'll always love him. And I think ≠ no, I know he still loves me. But he's not ready to grow up. I can't go on living with an irresponsible little boy."

An irresponsible little boy. He remembered Sirius coming home late after the Quidditch match, three sheets to the wind and yet rock-hard, ready to fuck against the wall or the floor or the shower without ever asking whether Remus was in the mood too. (Of course, when Sirius shucked his clothes, Remus generally got in the mood rather quickly ≠ but it was the assumption that drove him mad, after a while.) He remembered nasty letters from Gringotts, blotted thick with sticky goblin ink, demanding payment on accounts that were Sirius' responsibility ≠ accounts they had the money to pay, only Sirius had forgotten to do so. Waking Sirius up in the mornings for Auror training, every damned morning, like a mum packing a boy off to primary school ≠ going clubbing every night, whether he wanted to or not, knowing that if he declined Sirius would just go without him ≠

Well, it became tiring, after a while. Remus was never certain why it had become so much worse after Hogwarts ≠ despite Sirius' troublemaking qualities, he hadn't been nearly so bad there, not since he was 15. And for all of it, he didn't love Sirius any less. Probably, Remus had to admit, he'd have gone on letting Sirius have his way forever. But when Sirius was the one to get fed up (a nag, he'd called Remus, a scold, worse than his MOTHER), Remus had watched him throw his belongings into a trunk and let him go without protest.

Sometimes, Remus liked to think that Sirius had been expecting to be stopped. Sometimes, he didn't allow himself even that much hope.

"There's a shop across the way you might like," Lily said. She spoke with the voice a mother might use to distract a small, unhappy child. "Old-fashioned Muggle music. You still have a record player, don't you?"

"Absolutely," Remus said. As though Sirius would ever have taken the phonograph; he never saw the point of primitive Muggle wonders, never seeing that the wonder was all the greater for being created, determined, chosen. "Just got paid. Might as well get some music, don't you think?"

"Now that we're not covering bar tabs any longer." Lily's lower lip trembled, despite her bravado. But one more sip of her coffee, and then she put the cup down hard, so that the porcelain rang out against the wood. "Right. No more sulking. Let's go."

**

"The tattoos will be found on their forearms." Mad-Eye Moody stalked back and forth beneath the hovering image of the Dark Mark ≠ not green and red, the horrific way it hung in the sky over destroyed homes and dead bodies, but flat and dark. James didn't find it all that much easier to look at. "Rumor has it that they burn when You-Know-Who summons them. So watch for anyone who's trying to keep that part of his body covered ≠ as we're getting into warmer weather, you'll notice it more ≠ or who seems to suffer a sudden pain."

"Please, Mr. Moody ≠" Alice Longbottom raised her hand, as though she were still in Professor Kettleburn's class. She had a round face and dark eyes, and James had heard her speak aloud perhaps five times in all their Auror training. "Won't they simply have masked the tattoo with concealing charms?"

Moody nodded approvingly. "Good to think of how they'd try to get around us, Longbottom. But the marks You-Know-Who leaves on 'em ≠ those kind won't be covered. They're meant to show. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wouldn't have it any other way. He's tired of hiding in corners."

Sirius lifted his head, meeting James' gaze from across the room. Even they couldn't joke about this.

"He won't be sneaking around much longer. Not that one." Moody wasn't speaking to the Auror trainees any longer; he was staring up at the smoky outline of the Mark, hanging above them all like a storm cloud. "As soon as he thinks he's consolidated his power ≠ he'll set his forces free. And then this war will be different. A very, very different thing."

Every rumor James had ever heard about Voldemort's forces flickered in his mind, casting shadows. If the Dementors' allegiance ≠ as much as such creatures could have allegiance ≠ changed, if the giants emerged from hiding to take sides, if the spells Voldemort had created were even stronger than they'd yet seen ≠

Everyone but Mad-Eye wanted to pretend that this war wouldn't get any worse. Moody knew better. All things considered, James thought it was a bad sign when Mad-Eye's paranoia began to look like the best way of viewing the world.

"Right, then." Moody recovered himself and began sifting through the parchments on his desk. "Some new theories about how the Death Eaters are strengthening their curses ≠ don't know if they're true, but worth looking into ≠"

In the outer hallway, someone screamed.

James' wand was in his hand in an instant; every Auror had leapt up, but he and Sirius were first in the doorway, even before Moody. Death Eaters had never yet struck within the Ministry ≠ but now, at this moment, James realized he was expecting it. That they all were.

But in the hallway there was no battle, no blood, no curse-smoke staining the walls green or gray. There was only a witch, slumped to the floor, sobbing, as her friends stood, ashen-faced, all around her. Others peered from every doorway and the stairwell.

One of the witches, an older woman James thought might have something to do with Azkaban regulations, said heavily, "The Prewetts. They got the Prewetts. Fabian and Gideon both."

James hadn't known the Prewetts, except by reputation. They were supposed to have been two of the best. The absolute best, and now they were dead at Voldemort's hands. (And it didn't matter that it had probably been Death Eaters who had lifted the actual wands, muttered the actual curses; they were just puppets for Voldemort, James thought, the source of the evil that flowed around them all.)

A few people groaned or began to cry. One man, a red-haired fellow called Arthur Weasley, swore under his breath and began to hurry down the staircase.

Sirius murmured, "I think his wife's a Prewett."

"Bloody hell."

Mad-Eye Moody strode forward, pushing through the crowd. "Those of you licensed for the field, come with me. The rest of you ≠" He didn't care what the rest of them would do. He and the Aurors ≠ the real ones, the ones the Ministry trusted to face the very worst ≠ made their way out, far from the grief. James felt a wave of envy so strong it sickened and confused him.

The sobbing witch was pulled to her feet, and her friends steered her slowly down the hall, as though every step was its own danger. While a few people stood around awkwardly, most began drifting off to whatever they'd been doing before. All of it seemed trivial now.

"Excuse us," Frank Longbottom said. He had his arm around Alice's shoulders, guiding her out. Her dark hair was spread on his shoulder as she leaned against him. They'd gotten married the week after they left Hogwarts. At the time, James had thought them mad.

Lily had known the Prewetts; she'd been in choir with one of them, though James didn't remember which. Somewhere, soon, she would learn about this. He imagined her green eyes going wide with shock and filling with tears. Maybe ≠ maybe if he went to the Potions labs, he could find her first, before anybody else told her, and break it to her gently. She'd be at work today, wouldn't she?

And then it hit him that he didn't know.

James leaned against the doorjamb, exhausted. Sirius put his hands on his shoulders and shook him just a bit. "You know what I think?"

"What's that, Sirius?"

"I think this would be a very good time to go get stinking drunk."

He breathed out in a sigh, and he thought it might even be relief. "You never spoke truer words."

**

Remus worked in the library.

He'd never even applied for Auror training; he had the Defense Against the Dark Arts talent for the job, and test scores better than Sirius' or James' by far. But not even Mad-Eye Moody was mad enough to admit a werewolf to the ranks of the Ministry's defenders.

Lily's work in the Potions labs was at least useful ≠ now, with the enhancement of Veritaserum, arguably as important a defense against Voldemort's forces as any of the Aurors could claim. But Remus didn't possess her skill.

No, all his talents lay in the very areas he was least likely to be allowed to use. So Remus had to consider himself lucky to be trusted with the library. The head librarian, Mr. Fostwick, looked over his glasses at Remus through narrowed eyes, most days. If there hadn't been a war on, it was unlikely he'd even have been given this job.

Ah, well. There were worse fates than spending the day surrounded by books.

He breathed in deeply, relishing the musty scent of old pages and leather bindings, then set about the day's re-shelving. Entwhistle's Epigrams of Elvish Emancipation ≠ crackpot stuff. Politics. General readership. The Care and Feeding of Hippogriffs ≠ Magical Creatures, general readership. Most Potente Potions. Restricted ≠ Aurors and Ministry officials only.

Sirius could walk right in and demand this book, Remus thought. And for a moment, the image of that ≠ Sirius, dark hair loose, robes billowing out behind him, hurrying in to get something he needed from Remus ≠ seemed too good not to come true. It seemed as though it would have to happen, any moment. But, of course, it didn't.

Remus told Lily about it that night, when she came by for dinner. He described it as thought it had occurred, details coming to him as if through memory and not imagination. "Am I going mad?"

"Not unless we both are. I imagine conversations with James all the time." Lily dunked her bread in her stew, her expression thoughtful. "He's much more open about his feelings, this way."

Laughing, he said, "Funny, Sirius was marvelous this afternoon. Considerate and well-spoken, and do you know, I think he was even a little bit taller?"

She giggled as she poured them each more wine.

When dinner was over, he put records on the phonograph so they could dance. His parlor was small ≠ honestly, how had he ever shared it with anyone? Especially with anyone so boisterously, loudly ALIVE as Sirius was? ≠ but they moved the little tables to the hallway and so made room. Her hands were warm in his, and if their feet couldn't find the rhythm, well, it didn't much matter.

By midnight, Duke Ellington was playing "Sophisticated Lady," and Lily's head was pillowed on his shoulder. Remus swayed back and forth, lulled by the trumpet and the wine. It wasn't happiness, not really, but it was as close as he'd come since Sirius left. To his surprise, he enjoyed the way Lily felt in his arms. Her auburn hair was silky in his hands.

"I should go," she murmured against his chest.

Remus danced another couple of steps, feeling the way her body followed his to the tempo. Once he was certain, he said, "You could stay."

Her face turned up to his as her steps slowed. "I didn't ≠ I never thought that you ≠"

"First time for everything."

Lily's mouth quirked in a sad little smile. "How do you know you'll like it?"

"Just a hunch." He stroked two fingers along her cheekbone ≠ so smooth and perfect, so unlike Sirius. "We both know what this is. And we're both free to do as we please. So why should we be lonely?"

"No reason at all," she said, pulling him down for a kiss.

Remus did like it, rather more than he would have suspected. But no sooner had he tucked the quilts back around them, and taken Lily in his arms to sleep, than the old loneliness crept in with the starlight. When it had been Sirius next to him ≠ even when he was passed out drunk after a night at the clubs ≠ he'd never felt lonely.

"I ought to stop wearing my ring," Lily whispered, holding up her hand.

"Not on my account."

"No, of course not." She sighed. "On mine."

He kissed her forehead. "We didn't keep it at bay for long, did we?"

"Oh, well. It was worth a try."

**

"When ≠ did you get ≠ so ≠ damned ≠ pushy?" James panted.

"Shut up," Sirius groaned, tightening his grip as a signal for James to do the same. "Shut up and ≠"

James knew what he was supposed to shut up and do, and he shut up and did it. When Sirius kissed him, it surprised him ≠ though they'd kissed before, when they did this back in school. But it was different now, and not in a good way --

Then Sirius tightened his grip still more, and James stopped thinking. Stupid thing to do anyway, really, thinking at a time like this.

Once they were finished, they lay in the bed, splayed out, hardly touching. Drenched in sweat, James ran his fingers through damp hair. "That was nice," he said, not entirely meaning it.

"Since when do you worry about it being 'nice'? You didn't at school," Sirius pointed out, not unfairly. They'd played around in changing rooms and the dorm, even once in the Shrieking Shack, but the only goal was to get off a couple of times. Getting off was generally its own reward.

But that had changed, with Lily. Always a maker of maps, James had dedicated himself to learning everything about her body ≠ the obvious and the obscure, what pleased her even more than what pleased him. Sometimes the answers were only found far beneath the skin, within the soul of what made Lily herself. None of that knowledge had left with her; it was still in the bedroom, reminding James of what sex could be. What it had been.

With a start, James realized that he'd simply never thought of screwing around with Sirius as sex, exactly ≠ which it was from the outside, but not within. But Sirius had reached a very different conclusion, hadn't he?  Thank God he was now scratching himself in the world's least romantic manner, obviously already putting their encounter entirely behind him.

"Hello?" The voice rang out from the expanded living room, in stereo ≠ Sirius' doubling spell had added an extra fireplace. "Potter! Black! Get up, will you?" It was Mad-Eye Moody's voice.

Five seconds, and James had his pajama bottoms on and was running into the living room; behind him, he could hear Sirius cursing angrily as he looked for his robes. Moody's face flickered an unearthly olive within the fire. "We're here," James gasped, falling to his knees before the fire. "What's happened?"

"They're attacking official buildings ≠ not many casualties, not at this hour, but the devastation's enormous, and panic is breaking out." Sirius came padding into the room, barefooted and still untucked enough that his various tattoos were showing, but Moody either didn't notice or didn't care. "We need everyone out, immediately. Don't know that we'll catch any of 'em tonight, but we've got to calm people down. Show them they're safe."

No one is safe, James thought. "What have they hit?"

"St. Mungo's ≠ the research building, not the hospital itself. We lost some lives there." The deep furrows in Moody's face seemed to have been engraved there. "Lord Kliban's home. He's traveling, France I think, or the cowards wouldn't even have tried it at night. The main library, the Cleansweep factory, the ≠"

"Wait." Sirius leaned toward the fire. "Did you say the main library?"

"Yes, the bastards. Razed it to the ground."

"Was anyone inside? Was anyone working tonight?" Sirius' face was ghastly, so shocking that it took James a moment to realize why he was so upset. Remus. Oh, God.

Moody shrugged, his shoulders briefly visible above the logs. "We don't know yet. Haven't even begun to go through the rubble."

"We're going there," Sirius said. "To look for survivors."

"If we could," James added hastily. Neither of them were in a position to give Moody orders.

Moody didn't look happy, but he nodded. "As well you go there as anywhere. We've got a fire open across the street ≠ Mildred and Nigel Creevey, I believe. Go. Now."

The Creeveys' fireplace was, fortunately, an old-fashioned one with a high mantel, easily big enough for two. Nigel, a skinny man with hair that stuck out in all directions, helped them from the ashes. "Thank goodness you're here. It's wild out."

James brushed soot from his Auror's robes; Sirius, ignoring such niceties, ran through their parlor, scattering ash everywhere as he hurried out their door. "Forgive Mr. Black," he said. "He has a friend who works at the library. Who worked there."

"Never mind a little grime," said Mildred. She was hastily reloading a camera with film. "A night like tonight, who's going to worry about something like that? And there aren't any regulations against my taking pictures, are there?"

Whenever James thought that he and his friends were strange, someone came along who was a little bit stranger. "Not at all. You should make a record," he said as he followed Sirius' sooty tracks to the door. "It may prove useful later on."

Then he opened the door, and it took all his discipline not to cry out.

The library had been leveled. There was rubble ≠ hewed stone broken down to gravel, pages still burning, a scrap or two of leather from chairs. But there was literally nothing of the structure left, nothing recognizable of the building's old form. Just debris, and smoke, and hot choking dust.

In the distance, he could see Sirius, weaving his way through the larger crags of stone; though the din of people screaming and shouting, he was sure he could hear Sirius calling Remus' name.

For a moment he remembered Remus at Hogwarts ≠ practicing Quidditch on a sunny autumn afternoon, red and gold leaves blowing around them in the sky, and Remus' sly grin as he swooped in to try and steal the Snitch. Remus might have died tonight. Any second now, Sirius might find his body.

No. He had no time for this, not now. He had a job to do.

"Everyone, please! Stand back! We're from the Ministry. The situation is under control." What an astonishing lie, James thought, even as he did his best to sell it. To his amazement, people seemed to accept it; they looked up at him with teary faces that went still and slack as they listened. The mere assertion of control seemed to comfort them as much as true control could have done. James suspected that this was something Voldemort had learned, and used, a long time before.

After an hour's time, they'd gotten most everyone quieted down; a ring of people still surrounded the debris, but they were quiet, talking amongst themselves, their murmuring occasionally punctuated by the snap of Mildred Creevey's flashbulbs. By conjuring up a few orange cones and a Muggle hardhat, he'd been able to convince the non-magical people that a gas leak was responsible ≠ all the while whispering a few Memory Charms that would ensure they wouldn't remember the explosion ≠ or the library they mysteriously never wanted to enter ≠ the next day.

Then, on his hundredth or thousandth locator spell, Sirius found a body.

"Here," he said hoarsely, pointing at a slab of stone that might once have been the floor. "It's under here."

James suspected that Sirius could have levitated the stone by himself, but didn't want to be alone when he learned what was beneath it. "All right. Count of three. Ready? One, two ≠"

Their voices rang out, "Granisiva leviosa!"

The stone rose, spinning slowly as it moved up and to the side, then clattered down. What lay beneath it was hardly recognizable as a human form ≠ but through the blood, James could see a tuft of white hair.

Not Remus.

He let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, as Sirius croaked, "Fostwick. It's old Fostwick, Remus' boss. Poor bastard."

"We'll have to tell his family," James said. The duty could have been passed onto someone else, but James knew he wouldn't do that.

"Potter! Black!" Moody was making his way through the rock toward them, his wooden leg impeding him not in the slightest. "Who's that?"

"Myddyrn Fostwick," Sirius said. "We haven't found a sign of anyone else."

"Nor will you. We contacted the other workers, Conrad and Delaney and Lupin and the other one, that red-haired girl, Lucy something. They were all at home." James wondered why Sirius was leaning on him so, then realized he was actually the one who'd slumped against Sirius. "Fostwick was under the weather, they said. He closed the library a little early. Another few minutes, and he would have left."

A cold had saved the lives of those who might've been reading; a couple minutes' slowness had cost Fostwick his life. The thread was so slender, the margins so thin.

"It's bedlam at St. Mungo's. You've done a good job calming things down here." It took James a moment to recognize that he'd been complimented. Moody continued, "Wrap it up, and come along with me." James didn't move right away; nor did Sirius. "You two ≠ are you all right?"

"We're fine." It was Sirius who answered. "Never better."

**

Ten job applications, ten rejections. Remus wondered idly if that was some sort of a record.

He'd never liked Fostwick much in life ≠ it felt a bit crooked admitting it, now that he'd been to Fostwick's funeral and watched his widow sob ≠ but it was the truth. The dislike had been mutual; Fostwick had never fully resigned himself to having a werewolf on staff. But only now did Remus recognize that Fostwick had at least possessed the decency to give Remus a chance ≠ and that such decency was in rather short supply.

Of course, he could go to Dumbledore, ask for help. But his pride railed against such a step; besides, the man had more important matters on his mind. Remus' parents had left him a little money. For the time being, it would do.

But he hadn't realized how much he would miss the library.

As he made his way down the lane to his house, he realized someone was sitting on the small bench by the door ≠ Lily, most likely. But then the breeze ruffled the branches of the tree overhead, letting the twilight sky filter through enough to reveal Sirius. Remus stopped walking, felt foolish, and started toward the door again.

Sirius looked good. His hair was tied back, and his robes appeared to have been laundered recently ≠ well, by Sirius' standards, anyway. "Hello, Remus."

"Hello yourself." Did that sound harsh? Remus didn't want it to. "What brings you here?"

"Do I need a reason?"

"Yes."

"Of course I do." Sirius breathed out. "I wanted to talk."

There's always a fireplace, Remus wanted to snap. But was that really how he wanted it to be, forever and ever? Eventually, it would be nice to think they might be friends again. The three full moons he'd endured without Sirius for company had been ghastly; Peter had come in April and done his best, but a rat was of little interest to a werewolf on its own. Surely there was something they could salvage from all of this.

And yet he couldn't quite bring himself to ask Sirius in for tea. "Let's walk around back. The garden's looking well."

Not that Sirius had ever given a damn about the garden, but he pretended to care as the two of them strolled through. Only when they reached the hedge did he finally get to what he wanted to say. "Remus ≠ I came here tonight ≠"

"What for?"

"Well, I was thinking of begging you to take me back. Piteously, if necessary. Tell me, how would that go over?"

Remus stared down at the shining green leaves of the hedge. He'd imagined this so many times that it had lost its power to hurt him. He'd imagined every possible ending, and he knew the one he had to choose. "Nothing's changed."

"Everything's changed."

"Why? Because you thought I'd gotten hurt, and you were frightened?" At Sirius' look, Remus sighed. "Peter might have happened to mention it."

"Peter might have kept his mouth shut." But Sirius was smiling as he said it. "Yes, that night made me get some priorities in order. Remus ≠ when I thought you might be dead ≠"

"Don't." The raw emotion in Sirius' voice shook Remus to the core, but he was determined to remain stern. "I know you still care. I always knew, even on the day you left. But you cared about me while you lived here, and it didn't make things right between us."

"Haven't you figured out why things went wrong between us?"

Remus stared. "I rather thought it had something to do with you being a selfish, immature prat."

"BESIDES that." The admission caught him so off-guard that he had to laugh, and Sirius grinned. Dammit, Remus thought, if he gets me laughing, I'm done for. "I wouldn't blame you if you didn't know why I regressed to a 15-year-old. I didn't know myself until that night at the library."

Don't ask, Remus told himself. Tell him you don't care, and show him to the gate. But that wasn't his better judgment talking ≠ just his fear. "Why, then?"

"Because I wanted to be 15 again," Sirius said. "I wanted there to be no war."

Life before the war ≠ it was hard to remember what it had been like, anymore. But the boy Sirius had been, loudmouthed and angry and irresponsible, figured large in Remus' memories. "Did you think if you pretended it wasn't happening, it would all go away?"

"I thought I could feel like it had. And sometimes it did, Remus. When I'd had enough firewhiskey, or danced until dawn, or slept all the way through morning training sessions ≠ it did feel like that. Like I was a boy again, and the biggest problem I'd ever have would be my mother."

The thought of escaping to an earlier time had never held much appeal for Remus. But then, he thought, he'd never really had an innocence to escape to. His memories began with the bite that had darkened his world forever; if he could climb back into the hours before he'd been a werewolf, a danger to others and a blight upon the world, wouldn't he? Or wouldn't he at least want to try?

"That night, when I thought you might have been killed ≠ I realized how futile it was, trying to run away." Sirius was trying to meet his eyes, and finally Remus allowed it, gazing back into the face he'd missed so much. "This war is madness, Remus. Worse than madness. But I can look it in the face every day if I have to. If that's the price of being the man you need me to be."

"Sirius." It was all Remus could say.

"I love you," Sirius said. "And I'm sorry. And I'll do whatever it takes to convince you ≠ however long you need to feel like you'd want to start up again ≠"

Remus grabbed him and kissed him, long and hard. When their mouths parted, he said, "If you think I'm spending one more night without you, you're mad."

Sirius laughed all the way to the bedroom.

**

James meant just to ask Lily to dinner.

He could, of course, have sent her an owl, but that seemed so formal. But just hopping into her fireplace felt pushy ≠ he'd left it too long for that.

So he was wandering outside the Potions lab, acting casual, as though the brick-and-mortal wall next to him was in fact the most fascinating thing on earth. Naturally James didn't expect Lily to be fooled by this for a minute; it was an excuse, no more. Fine for Lily to know it, as long as she accepted it.

The sun went down, and James' stomach rumbled, and he had time to wish that Lily's ferocious work ethic could have taken just one day off. But that would just make dinner better when they got there. Probably she was hungry too. They could go to one of those Muggle restaurants she was so fond of; he'd actually missed the shishkebab at the Turkish place.

At last, he heard Lily's voice. "Don't talk to me as though I'm stupid. You may be the smartest of us, but you're not the only smart one. There is a difference, you know."

"You aren't stupid." Severus Snape sounded different than James had ever heard him ≠ or ever wanted to. "You're a very intelligent woman. That's why I'm trying to talk to you now."

Their footsteps drew closer, and James resisted the urge to go for his wand. Lily was saying, "I have enough sense not to discuss it. Ever."

"Forever is a very long time," Snape replied.

They reached the gate, and James stepped out, as though Lily might have been expecting him. She brightened and took his arm, entering into the game instantly. "THERE you are. You were so good to wait."

"Wouldn't leave you alone out here," James said easily. These were the first words they'd spoken in three months. "Dreadful night. Hello there, Severus. Long time no see."  Not nearly long enough ≠ an opinion James was certain Snape shared. He'd forgotten just how tall the man was, though mostly James was amazed that Snape had managed to win five NEWTs and still hadn't learned to wash his hair.

"James Potter." Snape wasn't as defensive as he used to be; he even assumed a certain kind of courtly smile. But the confidence that burned within him now had a dark cast. "How rarely we see you about these days."

"Auror training is demanding," James replied. "Going after those who practice the Dark Arts ≠ it takes time."

"I should imagine it would require great study. Great effort." The breeze blew one heavy lock of hair across Snape's forehead. "And even then, it must often prove unsuccessful. The Dark Mark is often in the skies, these days."

James lifted his chin. "Not for very much longer, I hope."

"We all share that hope." Snape half-bowed toward Lily. "I shall see you tomorrow."

Lily only nodded, turning on her heel and half-towing James with her down the street. Within a few steps she was chatting gaily about her day, but James paid little mind; he expected that the words weren't important, and the tone was only for Snape to hear.

As though she'd read his mind, she led them to the Turkish place. No sooner had they sat on the low cushions than she said, "Thank GOD you showed up when you did."

"Is he giving you trouble? If he is ≠"

"No, no. Not trouble. Not that kind of trouble, anyway." Lily brushed her red-gold hair back, clearly disquieted. "The way Severus has been talking lately ≠ it unnerves me."

If Snape wasn't after Lily, then what? James' eyes narrowed. "You don't think he's one of THEM." Speaking the words "Death Eater" in a Muggle restaurant seemed unwise. He expected Lily to immediately shout him down, but instead she stared down into the cup that the waitress was filling with dark, oily Turkish coffee. James felt his hair standing on end. Until this moment, he'd never realized that he believed Snape had any principles to betray. "Lily ≠ do you? You always stood up for Snape, always. If you think ≠"

"I don't." Then she shook her head and repeated, more firmly, "I don't. I just think he takes a kind of perverse satisfaction in seeing the Ministry rattled. That's all. I'm sure that's all."

"If you say so." Surely a Death Eater wouldn't be so casual about talking to an Auror. No doubt Lily was right. Besides, that wanker Snape probably couldn't even get in THAT club.

They ordered their shishkebab, and a silence fell ≠ not easy, as it had been in the old days, but not all that awkward either. It didn't feel the way it used to between then, but it didn't feel as though they'd spent three months apart. And James couldn't help noticing the ring that still sparkled on her left hand.

As the evening went on, they talked about the music Remus had been buying, and the ghastly dress Lily would have to wear for Petunia's wedding, and the potions she'd concocted at work, and his opinions of the Hampstead Harpooners' new Beater, and pretty much everything else under the sun for hours. Everything, that was, except the most important subject of all. Finally, after they were finished eating, and the evening's warmth and comfort seemed complete, James decided it was time to risk it.

"So ≠ er ≠" What would be a good way to lead into all this? James brightened. "You know Sirius moved back into Remus'."

"I did know." She cocked her head. "But if you were thinking of re-using Sirius' explanation, don't even think about it."

Thank God she was smiling. James smiled back. "About hiding from the war? You believe him, don't you?"

"I do. That's just twisted enough to spring from Sirius' brain." Lily sipped her coffee thoughtfully. Her face was illuminated in the candlelight, and James realized ≠ again ≠ how much he'd missed her. "I've always given you credit for being more sensible than Sirius, though."

"Talk about damning with faint praise." James shifted on his cushion and leaned across the table. "No. I didn't turn into a git because of the war."

"Why, then?"

"Honestly? I think ≠ the wedding. Not that I don't want to marry you." He took her hand in his, grateful for the scrape of the diamond against his palm. "Because I do. I just ≠ it hit me, that's all."

"Muggles call it cold feet," Lily sighed. "And I had a bit of it myself. I mean, you weren't all that bad. I was overreacting sometimes. All right, a lot of the time."

"Can I get that in writing?"

"Don't press your luck." How had he gone three months without basking in that smile? "Muggles don't marry until they're older. Far more sensible, really."

"Does that mean you want to put off the wedding?"

Lily glanced down at her empty plate, uncertain again. "Do you want to?"

"No," James said. "No. The sooner, the better."

**

"What do you have in these trunks?" Sirius tried yet another levitating charm, but still had to drag the trunk around a corner. "Anvils?"

"Yes," Lily said, watching her four captive movers from a comfortable perch on the sofa. "I do nothing but purchase anvils, all the day long."

"You can never have too many," Remus said. He liked the doubled flat, and considered asking Sirius to do the same for the cottage. But no. He liked his home as it was ≠ cozier that way, really.

"I think that's it," James said, dusting off his hands.

"Please say it is," Peter groaned.

Sirius tried to smile, obviously working to create something like enthusiasm. "We can get you unpacked now."

"Oh, what a mess that's going to be." She rose from the sofa and rubbed her hands on her robes, preparing for work. "Where to begin?"

How serious we all look, Remus thought. How determined.

"I know," he said. "I know where we'll begin."

They all stared at him. Finally, Sirius said, "Where?"

"The pub." Remus tossed aside his work robe, decided the jeans and T-shirt would do. "Last one there buys me a Guinness. No Apparating!"

Within two minutes they were on the stairs, laughing and shoving, their feet pounding on each step. Peter jumped over the banister, earning a shouted curse from James and Lily's laughter. Sirius' eyes met Remus, full of light.

We're not old yet, Remus decided.

**

THE END


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