Two Fathoms Deep

"Well..." said Remus, hesitating, "I do hate him, figuratively speaking."

"You hate him figuratively?" James repeated, sounding doubtful.

"I didn't know that was possible," came the thoughtful reply from the closet, which Peter was currently searching.

"It's not," said Sirius, emphatically. "It's not possible. Remus, what has gotten into you?"

"Nothing, Sirius, it's just... I mean, I know he can be tetchy and annoying, and yes, all right, I know we have understandable reservations concerning his personal hygiene, but really, I don't see why we should waste a perfectly good Halloween bothering with him."

James and Sirius stared at him, incredulous. Peter gave a feeble cough, still buried in the closet.

"We're marauders," James said finally, looking uneasy in the rift that seemed to have blossomed between them. "Since when has pranking ever been bothersome?"

"It's not," Remus said, grappling to find words that could extricate him from the mess he'd fallen into. "It's just, well... why are we focusing all our strategy on one person?"

"Because he's Snape," replied Sirius with conviction, "and he's a sniveling Slytherin, and needs to learn that he can't spout off all the time with his pureblood--"

"You know," said James, interrupting Sirius mid-tirade, "Remus has a point. Why are we wasting a perfectly good opportunity on only one person, when we could prank the whole school?"

"I didn't know that was possible," Peter said again, only this time it was accompanied with a reverent sigh as he momentarily poked his head out from the closet, his gaze full of awe as he looked at James.

Sirius looked contemplative, and Remus seized the opportunity.

"Exactly my point! Look, instead of targeting Snape, we should do something that everyone will notice. It'd be much more impressive, really. Besides, Sirius, everyone will be expecting you to curse Snape, especially after last year's flamenco incident... so why don't we do something different?"

"Yeah, we don't want a reputation of being predictable," agreed James, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Remus nodded his agreement.

"And it would be, well, sort of a red herring, really, and no one will expect anything huge. Think about it, Sirius--we have a real chance to do something no one has done before."

As Remus had been hoping, Sirius's flair for the dramatic sealed their fates. Sirius rubbed his hands together and gave a wicked cackle.

"Halloween," he said, "The marauders will become legend."

"Ah hah!" Peter cried triumphantly, finally emerging from the closet with his long sought-after book for Muggle Studies.

Remus did some quick calculations in his head. Halloween was over a month away, and there was a full moon about a week before it, on the twenty-second.

Remus' relief was quickly replaced with the unpleasant feeling that he'd just leapt out of the cauldron and into the fire, figuratively speaking.

*-----*-----*

James's voice sounded loud and clear in the still night air.

"And the handsome, charming, spectacularly talented Chaser James Potter flies across the pitch, eliciting cheers from the crowd as he starts after the Quaffle!"

James swooped and dived, imagining a stand full of girls shouting him on, a certain red-head conspicuously absent from the fantasy.

"Potter soars across the pitch, looking quite dashing in his Quidditch robes, narrowly escaping a bludger by performing the high-risk, potentially-fatal Sloth Grip Roll of DEATH!"

James paused for effect; then, in one fluid movement, he rolled over and hung upside down, mentally congratulating himself on his death-defying feat.

"And he's off again, naturally assuming the lead in the Hawkshed Attacking Formation, flying at break-neck speed toward the Slytherin goal posts! The crowd grows silent, waiting with bated breath as Potter intrepidly advances on the pitch, easily outstripping the pathetic attempts of the Slytherins to break the Gryffindor chasers' arrowhead formation!"

James wished he had a real Quaffle to practice with, but found that his flying, along with detailed commentary, was still great practice for his future career as Chaser on the Kenmare Kestrels, which was credited with having created the famous Hawkshed Attack he was now doing a superb job of leading, if he did say so himself.

"The other two Gryffindor chasers are forced to break away as the Slytherin beaters descend upon them, but Potter outsmarts them once again and pulls up in a sudden, glorious burst of speed, Quaffle still in his possession!"

James pulled up on his broom, exulting in the way the wind blew through his hair, smiling up at the waning moon as he imagined dozens of star-struck girls gazing at him adoringly from the stands. James grinned to himself, and, despite what Sirius always said, was convinced the moonlight only accentuated his sexily-mussed hair.

"Potter resumes his path to the goal posts, intimidating glare causing the Slytherin keeper to tremble with fright! The keeper pitifully tries to defend his hoops, but let's face facts, no one has a chance against Potter!"

The crowd boos the Slytherin keeper, and James appreciatively does a theatrical spiral in the air before swooping behind the central hoop to toss the Quaffle through it.

"AND POTTER SCORES! Gryffindor is now leading 160 to 0! Gryffindor doesn't even need a Seeker on the team, thanks to Potter's awe-inspiring skill! He's unstoppable! "

James gave in to the thrill of flying and abandoned his impromptu "practice," instead diving and swerving in the air, glad for the privacy of the moonlit night. Everything became so much simpler, somehow, when he was flying, so he slipped out of Gryffindor Tower alone a few times every month to escape into the night sky. Most of the time James was glad to have Sirius and the marauders along, but his fantasies of professional Quidditch glory were his own clandestine dreams.

Well, clandestine until he actually becomes the lead chaser, instead of only a right wing. Which he assumed would be next year, after seventh-year Chaser McCormack graduates. Then James would officially be the Gryffindor Quidditch Hero, instead of a surprisingly talented second-year player. Next year, James thought to himself with a smile, and landed gently on the pitch to retrieve his Invisibility Cloak.

Clutching his Nimbus 1000 in one hand, James threw the cloak over himself and made his way back to the castle. Before opening the entrance hall doors, James strained his ears to detect any signs of patrolling teachers or Filch. After satisfying his caution, James proceeded to Gryffindor Tower.

However, he had only started down the shortcut on the third floor when he heard voices.

"How is he doing, Poppy? Albus told me it was worse than last time."

Bollocks! James recognized McGonagall's voice and ran through a fairly imaginative string of curses in his head. He knew he would be in for it if his head of house caught him out of bounds this late at night again. He flattened himself against the wall, listening as their voices echoed loudly in the empty hallway.

"It was worse this time," a female voice sighed, and James realized it was Madam Pomfrey. "I think it's only getting harder on him."

"It's a wonder he managed to make-up his Transfiguration exam so soon," murmured McGonagall, whom James could now distinguish from the shadows in the corridor.

James held his breath as they drew nearer, willing his heart to stop beating quite so loudly...

"He was in such a state," Madam Pomfrey said, her voice breaking. "It was all I could do to keep from crying--Minerva, you should have seen the gash on his back. It's dreadful, seeing him like that in the infirmary, after every...." She trailed off.

James, his curiosity piqued at hearing the austere nurse so emotional, slowly exhaled after they had passed him, and strained to hear the rest of their conversation.

McGonagall made a sympathetic clucking noise, and responded solemnly, "There there, Poppy, you're doing all you can for him. If it wasn't for you and Albus, he wouldn't have been able to attend Hogwarts at all."

James slowly crept forward, carefully maintaining several paces between himself and McGonagall, his curiosity outweighing his common sense.

"A fat lot of good Hogwarts will do him!"

"Poppy, keep your voice down!"

Madam Pomfrey sniffed. "I'm sorry Minerva, it's just--I don't think he'll ever have a chance to put his Hogwarts education to use. And more's the pity that the world will never see the many gifts Remus Lupin has to offer!"

James stopped dead in his tracks, working through what he'd just heard.

It took a few moments, but comprehension dawned and left a horrified James Potter staring in their wake.

*-----*-----*

Once again Peter was making his way down to the common room in the pre-dawn hours. His bag, containing his sketch pad and artists' pencils, was slung over his shoulder.

He stopped short when he realized the common room wasn't as empty as he'd assumed it would be.

The room was dark but for the fire. Someone was standing before it, his back to Peter, profile black against the orange glow. Instinctively, Peter pulled out his sketchpad and pencil and began to draw the figure before him.

For a while there was only stillness in the room, the crackling of the fire drowning out the faint sounds of Peter's pencils. Just as Peter was beginning to shade in the figure's shadow, the person suddenly turned around, causing Peter to give a yelp of surprise.

"Peter?" the figure asked uncertainly, beginning to move closer.

Peter couldn't make out the boy's features since the fire was backlighting his face, but he recognized the voice. "Hallo, Remus," Peter replied, grinning faintly. "I thought I'd be the only one up at this hour."

"Hmm, so did I," Remus said, now close enough for Peter to see his face. "What's that?"

It took a moment for Peter to realize that Remus was referring to his sketchpad and artists' pencils.

"Oh, this... it's nothing, nothing at all," Peter said, shifting from foot to foot and wondering how he could explain the bag full of sketches on the floor.

Remus, however, didn't demand any explanations. Instead he pulled a book from the inside of his pockets and said, "I guess I'm not the only one with secrets, then."

Although Peter saw that he was smiling, he could also detect uncharacteristic bitterness in Remus' wry tone.

"And... keeping secrets--you don't like to?" Peter asked, trying to make sense of what Remus was feeling, and failing miserably. He couldn't understand why Remus didn't like the solitude of secrets; he had a sense of satisfaction in keeping his talent concealed.

"No, I don't like keeping secrets," Remus said firmly, tightening his grip on the book, which, judging from its leather binding, Peter realized must be Remus' journal. "Not at all."

Peter cleared his throat.

Uncertainly, Peter looked down at the drawing in his hands. He was quite proud of it, really--he had captured the strangeness of the scene in dark, shadowy detail. Gathering his resolve, he wordlessly handed it to Remus for his inspection.

Remus' eyes widened slightly as he studied Peter's sketch, and Peter began to grow anxious.

"Is it... is it all right?"

"Do you have any more?" Remus said, not looking away from the sketch in his hand.

Peter picked up his bag and set it down carefully on a nearby table. He pulled out his recent sketches of Hogwarts and handed them to Remus as well.

Remus mutely accepted them, looking over them so slowly and carefully that it became agony for Peter to await his judgment. Remus was the first person besides his parents to see his drawings, and really, his parents' ringing endorsement didn't mean anything--they were supposed to like whatever he drew, even if they were stick figures.

When Remus got to the yet inanimate sketch of the Whomping Willow, he looked up at Peter.

"Would... would you mind if I kept this one?" asked Remus with a strange tremor in his voice, though his face showed no trace of emotion.

"Well... I haven't charmed it to move yet," said Peter, his brow wrinkling in confusion. Why would Remus want that particular sketch?

"I know," Remus said, face still a mask. "I rather like the Whomping Willow better this way."

Peter nodded, although he did not understand.

"Thanks for showing me your sketches. They're really quite excellent, you know."

"Oh--well, thanks, then. You had me worried there for a minute."

Remus gave Peter a searching look. "I can't imagine why you would want to keep it secret from us, though."

Peter shrugged and avoided Remus' questioning gaze. Somehow he knew Remus wouldn't understand his dark enjoyment in keeping certain things hidden.

The silence stretched between them as each attended to his own thoughts. The first hints of dawn were now visible through the common room window, and Peter observed with distracted enthrallment as the whole of the room was bathed in clear light, overpowering the glow from the hearth.

Remus turned towards the window, a contented look on his face.

"You're a morning person, are you?" asked Peter, finally breaking the silence.

Remus looked at him. "I always have been," he said quietly.

Without another word he walked to the fire, and tossed his journal into the flames.

*-----*-----*

Sirius was watching Peter drool with a disgusted sort of fascination when James passed him a note in History of Magic.

Sirius,

Last night I was out under the invisibility cloak when I heard Pomfrey and McGonagall talking about Remus. We need to talk, in private, it's urgent. Don't mention this to ANYONE.

--James

Peter drooled on in his sleep beside Sirius. Remus, who was on the other side of Peter, was drowsily gazing out the window, completely oblivious of him and James passing Top Secret Notes.

Darling Jamesikins,

You went out last night without me?!? You were out with Evans, weren't you?!? I am hurt, James. Deeply wounded.

You sound awfully nervous. Are you sure what you heard is urgent? Maybe you had bits of pudding smushed in your ears again, like the last time we went down to raid the kitchens, so you couldn't hear them properly. Tricky business, puddings.

Anyway why would they be gossiping about Remus? He's bloody boring. I, on the other hand, am exciting and charming and witty, and quite obviously the most brilliant and spectacular student in our year--nay, in all of Hogwarts! I suppose you're a close second, though, so don't feel too bad.

Attractively Yours,

--Sirius

Sirius, who had been expecting to hear James's stifled snort of laughter, was irritated when he was met only with silence and another doomsday note.

Sirius,

Stop being a prat and listen to me.

I did NOT have pudding in my ears, namely because YOU weren't there to stuff my head in the pudding bowl. Besides, I wasn't in the kitchens anyway. If you must know, I was practicing Quidditch. ALONE. (As in no Evans!)

Prick.

Anyway, I HEARD Pomfrey and McGonagall talking, and I'm telling you it's really bad. I couldn't believe it, I still can't, but Pomfrey was about to cry, so I must've heard them properly, even if I haven't accepted it yet.

We need to talk.

--JAMES

James was being annoying and cryptic, and that, in Sirius's opinion, was no way to entertain one's best mate during History of Magic.

Before writing James back Sirius glanced up at Remus. Remus' elbow was propped on the desk, supporting his head in his hand, his eyelids fluttering in the beginnings of sleep.

James,

You're mad.

Now stop being a git and just tell me already.

--Sirius

Sirius heard a heavy sigh, and was surprised to see the shaky script on the note James passed back to him.

Sirius--

Pomfrey and McGonagall said that Remus has been in the infirmary, badly injured, and that he might not live to graduate from Hogwarts. I don't understand it, but I'm sure that's what I heard.

Sirius froze.

He was in the process of rereading the slip of parchment for the umpteenth time when Peter emitted a sudden grunt in his sleep, causing him to choke on his large quantities of drool. Remus, startled out of his doze, helpfully patted Peter on the back. Without opening an eye, Peter began snoring softly, still fast asleep.

Remus looked up at Sirius, a look of bemused astonishment on his face. Sirius, surreptitiously maneuvering James's note so that Remus couldn't see it, smiled at him, then turned and pretended to pay attention to Professor Binns.

Sirius was numb. It wasn't possible, it couldn't be, it didn't make any sense--Remus was fine. Deathly ill people didn't attend classes regularly!

A nagging voice in Sirius' head reminded him that Remus didn't attend classes regularly. But he looks relatively healthy, he rationalized with himself. James must have misheard Madam Pomfrey; there was no other explanation. The school nurse had never failed to heal a Hogwarts student before.

Besides, Sirius reassured himself, what couldn't be cured by magic?

*-----*-----*

Remus yawned as he turned in his quiz. He had been the last one to put down his quill; the exhaustion that had seeped through his body made him feel sluggish and disoriented. He always had a harder time focusing on his classes after a full moon.

Professor Kettleburn shuffled the students' parchment and stacked them onto his desk, then turned to face the class.

"I trust that you all completed your reading assignment on mooncalves?"

Remus nodded, along with the rest of the students.

"Good. We're beginning a long-term study on them, in conjunction with your Herbology class. Can anyone tell me why?"

Remus didn't raise his hand, not wanting to call attention to himself during Care of Magical Creatures. While werewolves weren't a likely topic of discussion, as they were in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Kettleburn's mooncalf assignment was close to being in dangerous territory.

"Yes, Mr. MacMillan?"

Remus looked over at his fellow Gryffindor second-year, a withdrawn boy called Richard MacMillan, as he answered, "If a mooncalf's silvery dung is collected on the night of a full moon, it can be used to help magical plants and herbs grow more quickly."

"Five points to Gryffindor! Very good, Mr. MacMillan! Your assignment, to be turned in next class, is a twelve-inch description of the mooncalves' magical properties and uses in Herbology. Extra credit will be given to those who provide a clearly labeled illustration of the creature. Class dismissed!"

Care of Magical Creatures was, thankfully, their last class of the day. Remus grabbed his bag and fell into step with Sirius, James, and Peter, and tried to ignore the strange glances Sirius and James were furtively sharing. While fascinating, Remus had long ago given up trying to decode their wordless communication when they fell into their double act.

Remus walked to Gryffindor Tower in a daze, yawning once more as he climbed through the portrait hole and entered the common room.

"Well, I'm going to take a nap," said Sirius, stretching his arms over his head and giving James a meaningful look, who shook his head and crossed the common room to talk to Peter. "You look tired as well, Remus. Coming?"

Suspicious of a prank James and Sirius may have planned for him, Remus shook his head no. "I need to read through some of our History of Magic text first--I didn't take any notes at all today in class."

Sirius looked slightly put out, but Remus couldn't bring himself to feel guilty with having avoided some undoubtedly nefarious scheme. Stifling yet another yawn, Remus sat down in the common room and watched Sirius head up the stairs alone.

Thirty minutes later, when Remus was too exhausted and disoriented to make out the words in his book, he headed up to the dormitory to take a nap himself, trusting that Sirius would be asleep.

When he got to the doorway he stopped short, chest constricting as his awareness of the world narrowed to the still scene before him.

The western windows of Gryffindor Tower were flooding the room with an effervescent glow, the gold and scarlet dormitory heady with the lingering warmth of daylight. Sirius was sleeping in his bed, stretched languidly like a dog in the late-afternoon light, cheeks flushed from the heat of the sun.

In that unguarded moment an image of Remus' past surged forward, unbidden yet intensely felt in contrast to the quietude before him. Remus was transported to that fateful September when he had embarked upon his first journey to Hogwarts. Initially Remus hadn't known what to make of Sirius and James's antics, but he and the quiet boy called Peter were both drawn to their laughter, and soon the four were inextricably linked. Time passed and Remus was able to distinguish between Sirius and James, to ease Peter out of his hesitancy, to learn easy familiarity and experience small moments of intimacy that were born from his and Sirius' close friendship.

An aching hurt seized Remus. He hadn't known friendship that first day, hadn't known what it would mean to want to trust someone indelibly and without abandon, hadn't known that becoming best friends with those three carefree boys would inevitably amount to betrayal.

He wished all at once that he could have that innocence back, and that he had never had it at all. Darkly, Remus thought that perhaps Dark Creatures couldn't know innocence, couldn't know anything pure and untainted. He had only been naïve, ignorant of what lay before him.

It took Remus a long time before he moved to his own bed, taking off his shirt and closing the curtains. He shut himself in darkness, away from the impossibilities that lay on the other side of the dormitory.

*-----*-----*