Be All My Secrets Remembered

Chapter Eighteen: Moonlight Serenades and Midnight Confessions

August 1977

It was well past closing time, so far past that it was dark outside. Remus was at the back of Flourish and Blotts, reshelving the vast array of Divination texts, when Peter Pettigrew's head popped up from behind the pile of books.

"Bollocks!" Remus snapped as a particularly large volume of Nostradamus' prophecies landed on his toe. "Wormtail, warn me before you do that!"

"Sorry," muttered Peter rather sheepishly. "You want help?"

"I don't need help. I'm being paid for this after all." Remus retrieved the book and placed it on the shelf. "How did you get in anyway?"

"Padfoot has that knife that can open any lock..."

"Oh yes, of course." He almost smiled at that, albeit bitterly. "I'd forgotten. What are you doing here?"

"Moony..." Peter bit his lip. "Look, I know you're angry and I don't blame you. I know what Padfoot did; I was the one who told Prongs in the first place. And before you ask, nobody sent me. I came because..." He broke off, staring down at a copy of The Dream Oracle.

"Because?" prompted Remus, crossing his arms.

Peter took a deep breath before all the words spilled out, just barely comprehensible, "Because people are dying and I don't want to lose all the friends I have." For several seconds, Remus just stared at him, startled. Apparently taking this as continued disagreement, Peter barrelled onward. "I know what Padfoot did was wrong, and of all the people, do you honestly think I'd defend him? Prongs, sure, they're all but attached at the hip. But not me. I just hate...I hate that you've decided we aren't worth it."

"Do you even realise what would have happened if Prongs hadn't been there to stop me?" Remus asked softly. "I'd have killed someone, Wormtail. Do you honestly think I could have lived with that?"

"But you didn't, Moony. We were there and we stopped it from happening. And Padfoot, he..." Again, Peter broke off, averting his eyes. "It's been five months, Moony. And I know you don't want to keep doing this."

"What I want isn't at issue here." Remus set down the books and leant against the shelf. "Pete, what does 'people dying', as you put it, have to do with us?"

"Because I'm scared, Moony. I'm scared, and Prongs and Padfoot wouldn't ever admit it even if they were. And sure, having one Hogwarts student or four won't really matter if the Death Eaters decide they want us, but at least..."

"I think you're worrying a bit too much," he ventured, though he did not look at Peter.

"Am I? I went to the library and looked up old newspapers. Mysterious murders and such. It's not been just the past few years; they've been happening far longer than that, and nobody even noticed. Not till they gave themselves names." Peter shuddered. "Or don't you remember Ned Sutton?"

For a second, Remus was tempted to shoot back testily that no, he didn't remember any Ned Sutton, when he did remember, and with enough pent-up guilt that he could not form the words.

Apparently taking this for agreement, Peter demanded, "You didn't honestly think he died in an accident, did you?"

"At the time, of course I did. I'd never heard of Voldemort then," Remus finally answered, though with far less assurance than he otherwise might have done. He had forgotten Ned Sutton, in fact--he hadn't even thought about him since the first week of second year, when he, James, Sirius, and Peter had returned to their dormitory to find only four beds there instead of the usual five. McGonagall had given them the news, her lips pressed in such a tight frown that Remus could see the tension in her face. "But I see what you're saying."

"I'm not an idiot, Moony, no matter what Prongs and Padfoot say."

"I never thought you were. You don't need to defend yourself to me." Remus sighed. "You want me to make peace with Padfoot?"

"I think...I want us all to be friends again."

"It won't be the same, you know. I can't just forget this ever happened."

Peter closed his eyes. "You don't have to forget. I can't imagine any of us will. Even Padfoot. I can't think murder's the sort of thing you just leave behind, for all that it was just attempted murder."

"No, I don't suppose it is," conceded Remus. "I just wish..."

"You just wish what?"

Remus raked one hand through his hair as he raised his eyes to the ceiling. "Nothing. Padfoot wouldn't be Padfoot if he actually thought about the consequences of his actions, I suppose."

"Consequences?" Peter snorted. "Aren't those for house-elves to deal with?"

Remus laughed, startling himself as much as Peter. But even as he opened his mouth to respond, he cut himself off, stiffening.

"Moony?" Peter was frowning rather anxiously.

"Shh," Remus whispered. "I heard something outside." Skirting the pile of books, he crept toward the front of the shop. Peter followed, wincing as his foot hit a creaky board. "Wormtail, be careful."

"I'm trying," protested Peter weakly.

Remus ducked low enough to see through the lowest pane of the window. The street was mostly empty, save for a few stragglers from the Leaky Cauldron, and... "Malfoy?"

"Malfoy?" Peter echoed, squinting. "Blimey, is that Snape with him?"

Remus nodded wordlessly, ducking on instinct as Malfoy glanced toward the shop. As he turned, he realised Peter was no longer there, that the little grey rat had scampered up onto the windowsill. Remus crawled along the ground to the door, opening it just far enough that he could hear, if not see.

"...Are you absolutely sure, Snape?" Malfoy's voice was just as Remus recalled it, equal parts silky and cold. "This is not the sort of thing I care to trifle with."

"I told you, I can't brew that sort of potion without very specific ingredients. The only other place I can possibly think of is Professor Agrippa's private stores at Hogwarts." He could hear the telltale impatience in Snape's tone, held well in check.

"Moody's already sniffed round the Manor once this summer," Malfoy informed him. "I'd much rather he not do so again, and I like to think you feel the same way."

"Of course. I wouldn't presume..." Snape broke off for a second. "Are you sure this is what you want, Malfoy?"

"It's not a matter of want, Snape. You're aware of that."

Snape sighed. "Very well. If you prefer, I'll write to Professor Agrippa about it. But you do understand my reluctance, I hope."

"He's a valuable connection, Snape. I understand your reluctance completely. But surely ashwinder eggs on their own are relatively innocuous."

"Hardly," Snape refuted firmly. "It would require a rather impressive explanation, but I'm certainly capable of coming up with one. And he's distracted enough, what with the lycanthropy project and all..."

"Lycanthropy project?" echoed Malfoy. Remus drew in his breath sharply, leaning closer. Much good it would do him to forgive Padfoot now if Snape opened his mouth...

"Professor Agrippa's newest hobby," explained Snape, his disgust evident. "Who knows why? I certainly can't imagine. But that being the case, if you'd like me to write to him, I can't see any reason for us to continue this discussion here."

"No indeed," Malfoy agreed. "Why don't you meet me back at the Leaky Cauldron? I need to stop at Gringott's."

"Very well. I'll start writing that letter."

Only after the two men had parted ways did Remus finally relax. Peter reappeared beside him, eyes wide. "Moony, did you hear that?"

"About the lycanthropy project?" Remus nodded. "Yeah."

"You don't know anything about it, do you?"

"No, not a thing," he admitted, somewhat breathless with relief. "It's too conveniently timed to be coincidence, though. I'm almost tempted to write to Professor Agrippa myself and ask what he's doing. Maybe see if I can help." He smiled bitterly. "After all, I would know, wouldn't I?"

Peter could only smile weakly and shrug.

***

Lily closed her eyes for a second before squinting once again at the letter in her hand.

Dorcas Meadowes' handwriting was just as tiny and cramped as one might expect from a Ravenclaw, in an attempt to fit as much information onto a single piece of parchment as humanly possible. She was a sharp contrast to Sirius, who thought a letter was perfectly adequate if it expressed the point in five sentences.

The bulk of her letter was taken up by an amusing story about Dorcas and her mother wanting to Portkey to Provence to visit relatives, and her father's mindless terror that they'd get lost somewhere in the ether. Her mother's tart reply had been that her husband was more likely to miss decent bœuf bourgignon than his wife, given his complete inability to function on his own. She sounded alarmingly like her daughter, and Lily made up her mind that she truly ought to visit the Meadowes household at some point.

Apparently all had been resolved upon Dorcas and her mother's return (without detours into the ether, naturally). Not only had Dorcas' father not managed to destroy the house in any ill-advised attempts at cooking; his attempt to curry favour with her mother had involved flowers, candles, and Puccini. Dorcas, taking the hint, had made herself scarce that evening.

It was rather sweet, and certainly not like Dad at all. Neither of us even knew he could sing, let alone Puccini. Apparently he's got a lovely baritone hidden underneath all that ratty tweed. Who ever would have thought it? Mum spent the next week going about looking as pleased as the cat (who knows precisely how to convince Dad to feed her extra bowls of cream when Mum's not there, the sneaky creature!), and so the house is once again harmonious. At least until Dad makes another stupid comment, which he's bound to do sooner or later. They still haven't met Sirius. Mum plans to track him down at King's Cross in September. I've not mentioned the motorbike. Or the hair. Perhaps I ought to, just to warn her in advance.

"That certainly would be a good idea," murmured Lily, laughing. Though if Dorcas' mum was as similar to her daughter as Lily suspected, she doubted Mrs Meadowes would mind terribly. After all, even her parents hadn't objected too strongly when they believed Sirius to be involved with Lily. Charms notwithstanding, of course. A glance up at the corkboard above her desk revealed the photograph of her attempting to push Sirius into a fountain at Versailles. No, she suspected he'd pass muster well enough, so long as he didn't do anything blatantly idiotic. Picking up the letter again, she found where she'd left off.

I suspect you are already aware that James Potter (Sirius keeps wondering why I can't call him 'Prongs' the way he does, and the simple answer is I have no idea why one would nickname poor Mr Potter after the tines of a fork) has very conclusively broken up with Kate Campbell. And as I've not had any hysterical notes from you or from her, it seems a fairly safe assumption that she's dealing with it in an appropriately mature fashion, and moving on.

Which leads me to my next query: What would be your reaction, should that very same James Potter show a marked interest in you? I know he's done it before, and you've shot him down before, but am I wrong to think that your feelings on the subject might have changed?

Lily groaned. "Oh, not you too!" She set the letter down on her desk and promptly buried her face in her arms.

She'd already had notes from Sirius and Remus on the subject. It seemed the one thing those two could agree upon these days. Well, that and a growing unease with the way the Minster for Magic, Martindale, was all but ignoring the most recent spate of murders...

She shuddered. One of them had occurred some twenty miles away from Windsor. A man had brutally stabbed his wife and three children, before slitting his own wrists. The police were stumped, as the man had no history whatsoever of any kind of violence or mental illness. He and his family had been perfectly normal.

According to Remus, the Daily Prophet had reported the selfsame murder; only their version included the neighbours having heard bizarre noises during the night, and the appearance of a green skull-and-serpent sigil above the house. The emblem everyone recognised, but nobody dared to name, calling it simply the Dark Mark. The preferred targets, of course, were Muggles and Muggleborn wizards, a fact that occasionally prompted Lily to nearly jump out of her skin at sudden noises in the night, but she liked to think of herself as not nearly important enough to matter to a group of pureblood supremacists...right?

Even so, she had enlisted Remus' help for some rudimentary warding spells around her parents' house. Now that they were both of age, it seemed the least they could do.

Lily looked back at Dorcas' letter now, scanning the last few lines distractedly. Hearty congratulations on being made Head Girl, and did she know who Head Boy was, out of curiosity? Dorcas suspected one of the Prewett twins, both Hufflepuffs, but she wasn't sure. Lily just knew it wasn't Remus, as he'd mentioned in his last letter that he had written to Professor Dumbledore to officially resign his Prefect-ship. After the events of last year, it seemed only proper to him, and while Lily had argued the point tirelessly, Remus was nothing if not stubborn.

As Lily set down the letter, Sirius' postcard from the end of June caught her eye, the photograph of a magnificent beach. On the back: 'Wish you were here! Uncle Alphard's invited us all for next summer. What say you to a post-Hogwarts adventure in Bermuda?'

She smiled. He'd only spent a week there, but, according to Dorcas, had returned with a truly impressive suntan and several bottles of rum. James must have loved that.

James, indeed. She'd had a letter from Kate just a few days before, informing her of the final split. James, despite his word, had been increasingly distracted all through spring term, for reasons he refused to reveal to Kate, and the two of them had thought it best to split. It was as amicable as such things could be, or at least that was the impression Kate had given Lily. Thank goodness for that, anyway. It assuaged the guilt a little.

Lily pushed back her chair and crossed the room to the door. She needed to talk to someone about this, someone impartial...and she found herself facing Petunia's door. Petunia had been mostly civil, but it was so very difficult to tell with her. Steeling herself, Lily knocked.

"Who's there?" her sister called from within.

"It's Lily." No response. "May I come in, Petunia?"

"If you want," was the terse reply. Lily entered and closed the door behind her. Petunia was seated at her dressing-table, one foot balanced precariously on the edge, as she painted her toenails. "What's going on? Is something wrong?"

"No...I just...wanted to talk to you, is all." Lily sat down gingerly on the perfectly made bed. Everything about Petunia was orderly, it seemed, from the closet organised by season to the pristine surface of the dressing table. "Petunia, if a boy...no, that's not it..."

"A boy?" echoed her sister, brows shooting upward. "Is this that motorbike bloke from Paris? Mum liked him, though God only knows why. I'll acknowledge he's good-looking, but he seemed awfully..." she grimaced, negating the need for a conclusion.

"Oh, you'll acknowledge?" Lily teased, unable to resist. "You were only practically drinking him up with your eyes!"

Hectic spots of red appeared on Petunia's cheeks, and she ducked her head. "Fine. But that's not the point. Is this about him?"

"No, he's just a friend. No, really, Petunia, he is," she reiterated, noting the doubtful expression on her sister's face. "It's someone else."

"Well, tell me about him. I can't give you an opinion without knowing anything, now, can I?" Petunia gave her final toenail one last swipe with the brush, and resettled herself in a more comfortable position on the chair. "What's he like? How long have you known him?"

"He's..." Lily flushed, "...well, he was a bit of a git, actually. You know the type. Really good at Qui---sport, and always had girls chasing after him and such. But he's rather brilliant too, one of the brighter boys in our year, even if he spent lots of time in detention for playing stupid pranks..."

"You said he was," Petunia remarked. "Does this mean he's changed?"

"He has! Or maybe he was like this all the time and I just didn't know...I can't say. But he's different." Lily frowned, biting her lip. "I don't know when it happened, actually. I spent five years hating him, and then it just...stopped. No, that's not it either." Her gaze drifted to Petunia's bookshelf: Forever Amber, Upper Fourth at Malory Towers, And Then There Were None, Pride and Prejudice... "Darcy!"

"What?" Petunia glanced at the shelf. "What about him?"

"Well, it's not the same thing, really, but it's a bit like that." Her thoughts were flying far ahead of her tongue, and it was all she could do not to trip over the words. She hadn't read the book, but Petunia had borrowed the film from a friend and forced Lily to sit and watch it with her some years before, mooning over Laurence Olivier the entire time. "She hated him, and then she liked him, right?"

"There was a bit more to it than that..." Petunia protested somewhat weakly. "I mean, he's Darcy."

"But he was rude and disagreeable," Lily pointed out. "You can't argue with that."

"No, but..." she thought for a moment, "He had ten thousand a year! And Pemberley!"

Lily giggled. "You've got your priorities sorted nicely, haven't you?"

"Nothing wrong with wanting a bit of security," retorted Petunia. "But anyway, you were saying?"

"James...he's...well, he was horribly annoying at first. He kept trying to get me to go out with him in the most embarrassing ways. He'd ask me in front of everyone, and I'd tell him he was an arrogant toerag, and...well, eventually he took the hint and he stopped. But then..." She laughed rather ruefully. "I sound silly, don't I?"

"Yes, but no sillier than usual," Petunia offered, shrugging. "So he lost interest and you gained it? That happens all the time. I know I'd never have given Frank Gordon a second look when he was running after me."

"Well, it wasn't so much that either, though. He started going out with a friend of mine, and I started seeing more of him, and...well...he wasn't as bad as I thought he was, I suppose. That, and Sirius is his best friend..."

"Sirius? Motorbike boy?"

"Yes, I suppose you can call him that if you want," Lily conceded. "I started seeing a different side of him, or something like that. He can be rather sweet sometimes. And then there was Christmas..." She broke off, blushing.

"What's this?" Petunia asked warningly. "You never mentioned anything about Christmas."

For several seconds, Lily debated. Then, she blurted out, "There was mistletoe."

"Oh..." Petunia drew out the word, her normally pursed lips relaxing into an uncharacteristic grin. "Mistletoe? I think I know where this is going."

"I didn't mean to kiss him!" Lily protested. "In fact, he was the one who kissed me. But there was poetry, and he really does have lovely eyes, and..." she trailed off, quite sure her cheeks were nearing the colour of her hair. "And now he's not with his girlfriend anymore, and everyone seems to think he's interested in me, and I just don't know!"

"Are you interested in him?"

"I...I suppose I am. But I feel like a horrible hypocrite. I spent five years hating him, after all. And then there's Kate...his ex-girlfriend. She's a friend of mine, and you don't do that...do you?"

Petunia thought for a moment. "It all depends on circumstances, really. How long were they together?"

"Nearly a year, though they did break up once and get back together around Easter. This time...I really don't know the details, but Kate says she's alright, so I've assumed they both decided it was a good idea." Lily shook her head. "I don't want to ask, because I don't want to pry."

"That makes sense. Have you talked to his friend about it? Motorbike boy?"

"He..." Lily hesitated, then plunged, "He said James was in love with me."

Petunia's brows arched upward. "That's rather deep for your age, isn't it?"

"I'm not that much younger than you."

"It doesn't speak very well for him if he stayed with this other girl and felt that way about you, now, does it?"

"I don't think it was anything like that. Sirius seemed to think they both were in it for fun, and it just...lasted, I suppose. And I guess he just thought I wasn't interested and thought he'd moved on. Or something. I don't know, Petunia! It's driving me mad!"

"Well, why don't you ask him?" her sister suggested.

"Ask him?" Lily stared. "How do you ask someone that? 'Hello James, Sirius says you're in love with me. Is he lying through his teeth?' That doesn't sound right."

"Because it isn't, silly. You need to be subtle."

Lily sighed. "Men don't make sense."

"They make perfect sense, dear," Petunia informed her. "They're really very simple creatures, or so Mum keeps telling me."

"Why doesn't she tell me any of this?"

"Because you're never around."

Lily opened her mouth to protest, but realised belatedly that Petunia had a point. "So you think I should ask him?"

"If you want to know right now, that's the best way. But based on what his friend said, I'd recommend waiting. See if he says anything. Patience, Lily. Not everything's possible with the touch of a magic wand, after all."

"I never..." She cut herself off. "But don't you ever feel the same way? I know you have to."

"Of course I do. But that's not the--" Something flickered across Petunia's face. "Lily, do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"I could have sworn I just heard something outside. It sounded like...firecrackers?" Rising, she pulled open the curtains and peered down at the back garden. "I don't see anything."

Lily jumped to her feet, irrational fear propelling her toward the window, accompanied by the sinking realisation that she'd left her wand in her bedroom. What about the wards? They should have...well, they should have done something! Oh God. Oh help... "Petunia, don't--"

She never finished her sentence, as a very different sound floated upward. Chords on a piano, a steady rhythm beat out on a tambourine. A melody she recognised almost immediately from the radio, and the words sung by a voice she could have sworn sounded entirely familiar...

"Why do you build me up

Buttercup baby

Just to let me down

And mess me around..."

Lily's jaw dropped. Standing in the middle of the garden, under a single spotlight and singing his very heart out, was James Potter. Behind him, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black seated at a piano---

A *piano*? How on earth did they get a *piano* into Mum's garden? There will be hell to pay if they even touched her roses...I didn't even know Remus played the piano. Or that any of them knew how to sing...

Well. One learnt something new every day, apparently. Including the fact that James Potter had a rather lovely tenor.

She found herself smiling helplessly. Taking this as encouragement, James clapped one hand to his heart with all the overdone drama of a lounge singer. After a quick exchange of glances, Remus and Sirius followed suit on the background vocals...at least as much as one could whilst either playing a piano or banging a tambourine. From his perch in the neighbours' tree, Peter swung his 'spotlight'--actually a torch--up to the window, causing Lily to collapse into giggles.

"I need you

More than anyone, darling

You know that I have from the start

So build me up

Buttercup, don't break my heart."

"Lily! Do you know these people?" Petunia looked thoroughly scandalised, to the extent that she apparently hadn't recognised Sirius.

"I..." She barely managed the single syllable for laughter. Then, between gasps, "Yes, I know them. I'll go shut them up..."

Without waiting for Petunia's answer, she ran from the room and down the stairs, all but falling in her haste to get to the back door.

"And where are you going?" enquired her mother from the kitchen.

Lily bit her lip, conscious of the continued ruckus in the garden. "Nowhere."

"That 'nowhere' needs to work on his upper register," Rose Evans said, with a knowing smile, "but he has potential."

Blushing, Lily ducked through the door into the garden. "Shut up, you idiots!"

James obligingly cut himself off, mid-phrase, and swept Lily a bow. "Miss Evans."

"What on earth were you thinking?" she demanded, trying her level best to keep her face as straight as befitted a Head Girl at Hogwarts. "It's the middle of the night! People are sleeping!"

"One, it's a Saturday. Two, we've put a soundproofing charm on the garden. Three, it's barely ten anyway. Who on earth sleeps at ten on a Saturday?"

"Are you...you're all drunk, aren't you?"

"Sober as judges," retorted Peter from the tree. "Proven by the fact that nobody's kissed Padfoot yet."

"You mean to say I'm not worth kissing unless you're pissed?" Sirius demanded with mock dismay. "I'm hurt. Horribly hurt."

Remus studied the piano intently, but said nothing. James ignored the banter, all his attention focused on Lily. "Look...I know you're Kate's friend, and I know this is awkward, but...would you like to...go out sometime, maybe?"

Sirius' words pounded within her skull, the ones she'd so wanted to laugh off when he first said them. He loves you more than all the world. After several moments of stunned silence, she responded incredulously, "Are you joking?"

"I...no." His face fell instantly. "Why would I be joking?"

"Oh, I didn't mean it like..." she trailed off, trying to regain her composure. It was almost too convenient, that she'd just spoken to Petunia, and now... Finally, she smiled almost shyly and said, "Why, yes, James. I think I might like that."

"Friday?"

"Call it a date," she replied, pausing for a second before adding archly, "And if you and your fellow musicians wouldn't mind moving along? My neighbours may not be able to hear this, but I think you quite startled my mother and sister."

James's expression fell somewhere between sheer disbelief and absolute elation. "Right-o, Prefect Evans!" he declared with a dazzling grin. "Load up, mates! Mission accomplished!"

"And well done too," Sirius confirmed, shooting a grin at Lily's departing figure. "We didn't sound half-bad, I think. Anyone have any interest in starting a band? Moony?"

Remus looked up at him, the first full smile Sirius had seen since that night in March lighting his face. "I'll consider it."

"The comeback of Moony and Padfoot?"

"I don't like that word," snapped Remus, his voice dropping to a sleepy drawl. "I prefer...return."

His three friends stared at him, perplexed.

Finally, he rolled his eyes. "Film reference, you Philistines. I give up."

"Yet another mark of your superior intelligence," Sirius remarked, earning himself a punch in the shoulder. "Oi! Wormtail! Good suggestion."

Peter dropped the last few feet to the ground, grinning widely. "I told you. My dad got my mum to go out with him by singing to her. Granted, he sang Gilbert and Sullivan, but it's the same idea."

Remus tapped the piano and murmured two different incantations. The piano shrank to about half its normal size, and he bent to hoist it onto his shoulders, having evidently halved the weight as well. "Back to Wormtail's, then?" he asked.

Peter nodded. "I'll go first." With a loud pop, he Disapparated. Remus waited some thirty seconds before following suit, leaving James and Sirius standing in the garden.

"Padfoot...she said yes! Sweet Merlin, she said yes!" He punched the air victoriously. "If I knew singing was all it took, I'd have..."

"Not so fast, mate," Sirius laughed. "You still need to survive the date."

But James, floating somewhere near Cloud Nine, couldn't have cared less.

***

Despite Sirius' constant reassurance, James had left for his first date with Lily in a state of near-collapse from nervousness and with at least half a bottle of Sleekeasy in his hair. His mother had informed him rather tartly as he left, that it simply wasn't going to do any good, and by the time he reached the street, she had been proven right.

Sirius took advantage of the afternoon on his own to take the motorbike to Andromeda's, showing up just as she, Ted, and the little cousin-once-removed he had finally agreed to call Dora, were preparing to leave for Brighton. Dora, overjoyed to see him, had immediately transformed her face into an almost-exact mirror of his own, but upon realising he wasn't going to accompany them to the seaside, burst into tears. Sirius managed to simultaneously cheer her, amuse her father, and thoroughly annoy his cousin, by popping the too-big helmet onto her head and taking her for a short-and-perfectly-safe turn about the neighbourhood on the motorbike.

Dora assured him very quickly that he was still her favourite uncle, when they came to a stop in front of the house. Not that she had any other uncles to compare him to. Sirius promised to bring more uncles the next time he visited, and possibly even an aunt or two. At that, the little girl frowned.

"But I don't like aunts."

"Why on earth not?" he asked, puzzled.

Dora looked up at him, her face still an oddly feminine version of his, and informed him, "Because aunts are mean. Aunts yell."

"When did you have an aunt who...?" he trailed off, looking up at Andromeda. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You have enough to worry about, Sirius. Ted and I are perfectly capable of protecting our own daughter," Andromeda replied sharply. "Even against Bella."

"What of Bella with the Death Eaters at her back? Have you thought about that?" demanded Sirius. "Andromeda--"

"That's enough, Sirius." She reached forward and lifted the little girl off the motorbike. "It was just once, and it won't happen again. Mark my words. If Bella so much as looks at any of us, I know precisely what I'll do."

"Do you?" he asked softly. "Do you honestly think you could do it?"

"If I had to make a choice between my daughter and my sister, there is no doubt in my mind which I would choose. Concentrate on yourself, Sirius. We'll be fine."

He chose to take the motorbike out for a nice, several-hour ride instead of returning directly to the Potters', and by the time he arrived at the house, James had returned.

"Dare I suspect it went well?" Sirius asked dryly, after a particularly overenthusiastic and undignified quasi-polka around James's bedroom that nearly upset several bookshelves and the owl cage. "Seeing as you're neither dead nor drowning your sorrows in Firewhisky."

"She said yes to a second date!"

"Congratulations, Prongs." Sirius grinned. "I'll restrict myself to giving you the same warning I gave you last summer. Just don't become one of those..."

"...prats who insists upon snogging his girlfriend at every possible instant, yes, I know, Padfoot," James concluded. "And I won't be."

"I hope not. Can't have you shirking your responsibilities, Head Boy Potter."

James flushed. "I still think it's a mistake. I really do."

"What, the letter was addressed to the other James Potter who lives on Menelik Road, in Hampstead?" teased Sirius, darting out of the way just before James's fist could collide with his shoulder. "You might as well admit it. Apparently our esteemed Headmaster thinks you're a fine, upstanding young gentleman of responsibility."

"Don't remind me," groaned James. "I don't know what on earth he's thinking."

"With all due respect, Prongs, I suspect it's got more than a little to do with a certain incident in March," Sirius said with deceptive lightness. "Your star is rising, Mr Potter, and we thought it could go no higher than Quidditch champion. Apparently you're just the golden prince."

"Padfoot..."

"Before you jump to conclusions, Prongs, it doesn't bother me. Really. I'd have made an awful Auror, and nobody in their right mind would ever have made me Head Boy. You know that as well as I do."

James sighed. "At least you and Moony are speaking again."

"We are, yeah." Sirius flopped onto the bed and kicked off his shoes. "Of course, I'm not about to bring that up with him. Seems one of those things best left unsaid."

"You really can't blame him, Padfoot," James said, somewhat hesitantly. "After all..."

"I know, I know," Sirius cut him off with a shake of his head. "It was a bloody stupid thing to do, and I understand that. And in all honesty, if I could take it back, I would."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'd send Snivelly after the Giant Squid instead."

"Don't joke about that, mate. I prefer the old, non-homicidal Sirius Black, if it's all the same to you." Sirius didn't answer, and the silence lingered for several moments before James spoke again. "I never asked you, Padfoot. Why did you do it?"

Sirius told him, conscious of the flat monotone his voice had once again acquired. Everything, from what he had seen in the Potions dungeon to the events in Cornwall after third year. By the time he finished, the sun had set completely.

Again, silence, this time stifling. Then, James finally murmured, "Fuck."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

"I don't know what to say."

Sirius shrugged. "You don't need to say anything. In fact, I'd almost rather you didn't. It happened. That's all."

He could hear James shift slightly. "It's your choice. Though..."

"Though what?"

"You don't have to answer this if you don't want to. I just...I can't help wondering..."

"Yes?"

"What was it like?"

Sirius frowned. That was the last thing he had expected James to ask, and it occurred to him that the simple analytical question was oddly comforting. "Like? The love potion, you mean?"

"Yeah." He could hear the rustling again, heralding another movement. "What did it feel like? Nobody ever talks about these things, love potions being illegal and all."

"Well..." Sirius thought for a moment. "It's a bit hard to explain, really. The only thing I can really compare it to is also illegal, so..."

"What's this?"

"Imperius."

"What? When were you under Imperius?" He could see James sitting straight up now, silhouetted against the window. "When did this happen?"

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't wake your parents with that, Prongs."

"Sorry. But...I mean...you never mentioned it."

"It wasn't anything serious, really. Just something my mother used to do when I was little and we had guests." Before James could chime in with a protest, he added, "It's perfectly normal. Your parents probably did it too."

"They bloody well didn't! My parents told me to behave myself and not speak unless spoken to, they didn't put me under bloody Imperius!"

Sirius shrugged. "Then maybe it's just my family."

"I hate to say it, mate, but your family's barking mad."

Unexpectedly, he began to laugh. "Yeah, they are a bit, aren't they? I thought you'd guessed that already."

"I knew they were unhinged, yeah. But Imperius? Love potions? Bloody Hell, if Snivelly's family was anything like that, it might even explain him."

"I suspect they were." Sirius leant back against the wall, thoughtful. "I don't think it explains him, though."

"Just a theory." James lay down again, and though Sirius could not see him, he suspected his friend was bunching up the pillow beneath his chin, as he usually did. "So it felt like Imperius?"

"Not so much. Imperius--at least when my mother cast it--was like this hand inside my head, squeezing my brain every time I wanted to do something she wouldn't have liked." He glanced down at his hands, suddenly aware that he was worrying at the edges of the sheet. "With Bella, there wasn't even a question. Everything I did seemed so perfectly logical. And every time I had any kind of second thought, the only thing that accompanied it was the fear that she might stop..." He broke off, swallowing hard.

"Damn."

"You're telling me. I don't even know if it's the sort of thing that wears off or not. I haven't spent enough time near her since then to really tell. Not that I plan to." He shuddered. "It was bad enough at 'Cissa's wedding reception, and I barely spoke to her for two minutes. Of course, she was enjoying every second. She would. Scared Wormtail something fierce."

"Wormtail?"

"Yeah, he happened to walk by when Bella was talking to me. I have no idea what I looked like, but it can't have been pleasant. And then, I made the mistake of telling Evans everything after that whole mess with Snivelly...I shouldn't have, I know," he added with a sigh. "Bloody stupid of me."

"Padfoot?" James sounded oddly uncertain. "Do you think...do you honestly think I've a chance with her?"

"The date went well, didn't it?" Sirius relaxed at the unexpected respite. "That's a reasonably good indication."

"Well, yeah, at least I think it did. Maybe. I don't know. It's hard to tell."

"Is it? She's straightforward enough to me."

"Yeah," James replied wryly, "you're not in love with her."

"Good point," he conceded as he stood up. "Well, my suggestion would be to stop worrying about it and enjoy yourself. If all else fails, you can say you went on two dates with Lily Evans and had a wonderful time."

"Padfoot, that isn't what I want, and you know it." Though he couldn't tell in the darkness, he suspected James was looking at him.

"I know," replied Sirius with a smile. "And I think you've got a perfectly good chance of getting it. But that won't do you much good if you spend all your time agonising, will it?"

"Since when did you start making sense?"

"I'm falling asleep on my feet. I suspect that's got something to do with it." Sirius backed toward the door. "I'll be back to my usual idiotic self tomorrow morning."

"Night, Padfoot."

"Night, Prongs."