The Snape Incident

Chapter 1

September 1, 1977

Remus Lupin smiled quietly next to the window, in good company, graced by good weather, and on his way to the best place he could possibly be. In a word, content. His three first, closest, and without a doubt most understanding friends — the best friends of his life — were animatedly discussing Quidditch in the seats around him.

“Don’t be stupid, Pete, Chudley?” Sirius Black exclaimed. “Haven’t got a prayer!”

“Oh, and I suppose you’re for Falmouth?” Peter Pettigrew sniffed, arching his blonde eyebrows and peering up at Sirius.

“You’ve both picked losing teams,” James Potter interjected casually, and the other two turned on him.

“Is that so?” Sirius asked, staring at his best friend down his oft-broken Beater’s nose.

Peter shook his head. “James, poor deluded sod, is for Puddlemere — because of their new Chaser, Donnels.”

James was about to make an indignant remark, but Sirius cut him off with a sly grin. “Fancy him, do you? What would Lily say?”

“What would I say about what?” Lily Evans asked from the door of the compartment.

James sputtered and flushed pink, while Sirius explained smoothly, “Only Quidditch, Lily, nothing to fret about,” and Peter sniggered.

“Well, I’m sure it’s fascinating, but I’m afraid I must steal Jamie away from you boys; Duncan Boot needs us for a Prefect’s meeting.” Lily took James’s arm and shooed him from the compartment. “I’ll send Maggie and Belle to keep you company, shall I?” The red-haired witch flashed them a smile and whisked away.

Sirius and Remus shared a significant glance over Peter’s head (the other boy had buried his nose in the Quidditch magazine that had started the argument). Margaret Nakamura and Arabella Figg were the other two Gryffindor sixth-years, and were both completely unaware of the amorous tendencies towards them that these two of their housemates had. That is, Remus had been fascinated with Arabella for two years now, and Sirius claimed that Margaret had a “nice arse.” Of course, Margaret was systematically working her way through Ravenclaw House for boyfriends, and had been since before Sirius decided he liked her; and Belle was... Belle. Or perhaps the real issue here was that Remus was simply — shy.

Peter glanced up. “Was it something I said?” he asked, looking between them confusedly. “Really, I would expect Sirius, at least, to be blathering on about something by now.”

They were rescued from that awkward moment and plunged into a new, slightly less obvious one when Margaret and Arabella appeared at the door. “Lily said we ought to keep you boys out of trouble,” said Margaret, by way of salutation.

“Merlin only knows how we’re expected to do that,” Arabella laughed, dropping into the seat next to Peter and snatching the Quidditch Quarterly from his hands. “What’s this? Chudley Cannons? Pete, I thought you’d know better!”

“Precisely what we were telling him,” Sirius agreed.

Remus chuckled and shook his head, reaching over Peter for the magazine and rifling through the pages. Margaret sat next to Sirius and turned the discussion from professional Quidditch to evaluation of this year’s house teams. None of this was of much concern to Remus, who did not play Quidditch, so he returned the Quidditch Quarterly to Peter and pulled his Ancient Runes text from his bookbag. Arabella reached over Peter and pulled this from his hands. “Hey!” he exclaimed.

“Remus, you’re a dear, but you need to live a little! Being too studious will give you grey hairs,” Arabella scolded, and Sirius shot him another Significant Glance.

“Come on, Remus, just pretend for a little while that you care about Quidditch, like I am, and talk to us!” Margaret begged. “Merlin knows these two aren’t worth much conversation.” Peter pulled a face and Sirius punched her arm huffily.

“They really aren’t, are they?” commented Remus, watching his friends with amusement. “Of course, they’re quite useful for Potions — there has to be someone to test the concoctions.” Under this further disparagement, Sirius grumbled softly and Peter poked him in the ribs.

“Well, it’s hardly their fault that they don’t realize both of their teams will lose to Holyhead this year. Oh, wait, it is their fault, for backing bad teams,” Arabella mocked.

Margaret shook her head. “Honestly. So, who’s going to be up late tonight finishing work?”

Sirius raised his hand sheepishly. “I tried to read the section on Quintapeds, really, but — it’s so bloody boring!”

Arabella shook her head. “Well, I didn’t even look at the Potions work, not that it would have made a difference in the marks I get from Brindle,” she snorted. “You, Gritty?”

Margaret wrinkled her nose. “You know I don’t like that nickname, Belle. And I haven’t finished the Arithmancy work.”

“Merlin, it’s not as if they spend their summers grading. Why should we have to do so much work over the hols?” Peter grumbled.

“Oh? And what have you still got to do, Pete? Or, rather, what’s Remus got to do?” smirked Sirius. The small, roundish boy shifted uncomfortably and mumbled.

“What’s that, Pete? We couldn't quite make it out,” Arabella teased.

“Potions, Transfiguration, and Herbology,” he repeated, louder and enunciated.

Remus shook his head. By Selene — three essays. “Well, it’s good to know what I’ll be doing tonight.” He frowned. It had become something of a ritual over the last five years for he and James (and Sirius, upon occasion) to assist Peter in his Potions work, which was less than stellar. More often than not, “assistance” constituted hastily forging essays in Peter’s semi-legible scrawl and hissing instructions over a bubbling cauldron, but they didn’t grudge him the help. What were friends for? Or so Remus and James told themselves, repeatedly.

Conversation was interrupted as the witch pushing the food cart rapped on the door; pockets were emptied and snacks purchased, and for a few minutes the crackling of paper and the clinking of coins filled the void of sound.

“Uric the Oddball,” Peter announced, holding up a Chocolate Frog card.

“Oh! I haven’t got him,” Arabella exclaimed.

“Really? Everyone else I know has about five,” commented Margaret. She did not indulge in the card-collecting, as her family disapproved of such trivial pursuits.

“Have it, Belle, I think I’ve got seven of him at home,” Peter grinned, and Arabella pulled a face at him.

The compartment door slid open again, and the occupants looked up, expecting to see Lily and James back from the Prefect meeting, but they were mistaken, much to the annoyance of nearly everyone. Severus Snape stood in the doorway, wearing an unpleasant smile and a Prefect badge. He focused all of his attention upon Arabella, pointedly ignoring the other Gryffindors occupying the compartment. “Belle. I’d like a word.”

Arabella glanced at Margaret, who raised her eyebrows. With a toss of her sunny golden hair, she stood and nodded cordially. “Lead on, Severus.” She stepped out of the compartment and Snape shut the door after her.

***

Peter pursed his lips. “I wish Belle would get tired of that git. What does she see in him, anyway?”

Margaret sighed. “At least he didn’t try to start anything,” she said.

Sirius was scowling. “I almost wish he had — great, slimy bugger.”

Remus leaned down and rummaged in his bookbag. He had been suppressing a growl that had begun to rise in his throat and forcing his face to remain expressionless, and now he snarled at his quills.

Margaret almost laughed when he pulled a bar of chocolate from his bag. “Snape’s horrible, but he’s not a Dementor, Remus!”

“No, but it’ll make you feel better nonetheless,” he replied, breaking off four good-sized pieces of the chocolate and passing them around.

Lily and James returned several minutes later, grousing about the Head Boy, Duncan Boot, and his controlling tendencies. Remus handed them chocolate as well, and Lily laughed.

The train ride continued much in this vein. Arabella never did get back from her “word” with Snape. She reappeared at the Gryffindor table at the feast, looking rather hastily put-together.

***

Grant Boyd shook his head. “It’s really too bad about Universal Brooms folding, eh?” He was a seventh-year and Seeker on the Gryffindor house team, and had bought a new broom from the company last year.

Across the table, Esme Taylor, a fifth-year and Chaser, shrugged. “Their brooms don’t age well, but they’re nice enough.”

Margaret, who was sitting next to Esme, sighed wearily. “Can we please have a conversation that isn’t about Quidditch or brooms? It’s all Pete and Sirius could talk about on the train, and I crave intellectual stimulation.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “We could always refine our plans to terrorize the firsties...”

“But Sirius! Then everyone would hear, and we’d be forced to kill them!” James cried in mock horror.

“And I, as a Prefect, would have to tell Professor McGonagall... and James would be stripped of his badge!” Lily exclaimed, playing along.

“If she thought responsibility might keep him in line, she was sorely mistaken,” commented Remus, poking his mashed potato mountain with his fork.

“I don’t understand what that woman was thinking when she chose the Prefects. I mean, Lily was a shoo-in, but James?” said Arabella, smirking. She brushed a strand of hair behind her hear.

“Really? Who do you propose should have been Prefect, Belle?” James asked, a bit huffily.

“Me, of course!” Sirius interjected.

(“Didn’t we have this conversation last year?” asked Peter, but was quite altogether ignored.)

“Hardly! If you think at all, it really should have been Remus,” Arabella said. Sirius shot his friend the third Significant Glance of the day. “He has the best marks of all of you, and he isn’t getting detentions every other day — Sirius — and costing our House points.”

“We more than earn them back in Quidditch!” Sirius and James protested in unison. They apparently had had this conversation last year — it was the same exact argument.

“And once again, the conversation turns back to sport,” grumbled Margaret.

“Aww, poor Megs needs stimulation!” said Peter.

“I’ll stimulate you, Meg,” Sirius offered, leaning toward her.

“Better not, Black — or her boyfriend will pound you,” Grant cautioned, interjecting from his own conversation.

“I’m not afraid of some Ravenclaw bookworm,” stated Sirius, with much bravado.

“He’s not just any Ravenclaw bookworm —” Margaret began indignantly.

James interrupted, “Good, otherwise we’d have to murder him for not deserving our Megs.”

“I’d have to dump you if you did, on behalf of my best friend Meg who actually likes her Ravenclaw bookworm —” said Lily.

“— For reasons unfathomable,” Arabella finished. Lily laughed in agreement.

“Much like your reasons for liking that slimy git, Belle?” Peter challenged.

“Really, Peter, you shouldn't insult Sirius that way. He’s not so slimy once you get to know him,” she retorted.

“Although he is a git,” Remus chuckled.

“And here I thought you were on my side, Re,” Sirius pouted playfully. “If you go on insulting me, we’ll exclude you from the orgy in the dormitory tonight.” Lily, who had been taking a sip of pumpkin juice, snorted with laughter and almost choked, while James coloured fiercely.

“You’re such a homophobe, James!” Arabella accused, laughing. She leaned across the table toward Sirius. “I bet it’ll really get him if you give Remus a little smooch.”

Remus raised his eyebrows at Sirius, who shrugged. “What’s in it for us?” he asked.

Margaret, Peter, and Arabella consulted. “Three galleons, take it or leave it,” Margaret announced.

“Done!” Sirius exclaimed.

“Sirius! I thought I was worth more to you!” Remus cried dramatically, playing along.

“It’s their final offer! I’ll take what I can get!” Sirius argued defensively. Remus considered, then shrugged. Sirius grinned triumphantly and pounced on the slighter boy. James turned absolutely purple and made choking noises as his friends disappeared below table-level, Remus’s hand clutching at the edge of the tabletop.

“James, darling, are you sure you’re not related to my sister’s fiance?” Lily asked between giggles.

“Damn,” said Peter, whistling, his face tomato-red.

“That was some kiss,” said Margaret, and Sirius grinned as they surfaced.

“A six-galleon kiss,” agreed Arabella, digging into her pockets. Remus was just relieved that somehow, it had escaped the notice of the teachers — they already tread lightly enough around him.

***

Remus stared out the window of the sixth-year boys’ dormitory. He had finished Peter’s homework about a quarter of an hour ago. Peter was snoring softly, and James occasionally mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep. The moon was a thin crescent, but it was waxing.

He felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder. “You’ve got a fortnight yet, right?” asked Sirius. He nodded mutely. “Good! See, this is the perfect time for school to start, because you’re not all apathetic and dead on your feet, but neither are you stressed out and being all alpha-wolf on us. And there’s time to plan our first adventure of the year!”

Adventure. Hah. “If you say so, Sirius.”

“I do say so.”

Silence. Sirius’s hand was still on his shoulder. Remus wondered briefly if the other boy had fallen asleep — but no, that was silly, Sirius could never sleep on the first of September. He was, he claimed, too busy to be tired: he had pranks to plan. “Sleep is for turtles,” he had said last year, in an odd fit of animal comparisons.

“You know what else, Moony?”

Of course there was something else. There was always something else with Sirius. “What else, Padfoot?”

“I think Belle might have been on to something at supper.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Well, neither of us can have who we want —”

“What are you saying, Sirius?” He now turned to face the other boy.

“I’m, ah, propositioning you, Remus.”