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The Other Side: Thick and Thin (Book 1)	By : ChapterEight Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 9585 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling or her licensees, so I do not own Harry Potter or make any money off of this story.

Chapter List
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“BOMBARDA MAXIMA!”
Sirius’s spell flew across the space and hit Dolohov’s quickly erected shield with such force that he could actually see it shimmering and shuddering in the air. He had only a moment to appreciate that and the cheers coming from the other side of the room before he suddenly found himself flat on his back and unable to move. Dolohov still liked to petrify him whenever he had something to say, instead of just calling for a halt the normal way; he said it built character.
“Why all this shouting?” demanded the dueling instructor. “‘I AM GOING TO TELL YOU WHAT I’M CASTING!’ Do you see how fucking stupid that is?”
Then Sirius’s entire body relaxed and he let his limbs fall fully to the floor with a sigh of relief.
“Sorry, Dolohov,” he replied, knowing that his release from the spell meant that his instructor expected an actual response. “I know you’re right. I just get so caught up in the moment.”
The man snorted to show what he thought of that. “Dueling is about control. Channel your emotions into your spells, but don’t let your feelings control you. Again.”
Antonin Dolohov was not a man of many words unless he had some specific bit of wisdom to impart, but Sirius had long since learned to follow his brusque commands immediately and without question. If he did, then he learned something valuable and worthwhile. If he didn’t, then he found himself nursing bruises even his grandfather’s potions couldn’t fully heal. He rose to his feet gracefully, gave a playful half bow to the corner of the room where his brother and Barty Crouch sat watching, and sent a Stinging Jinx across the room before he’d risen to his full height again.
Dolohov had obviously not been expecting it, as it was one of those exceedingly rare moments when one of Sirius’s spells actually hit the man. He let out a little grunt of surprised discomfort and glared at his pupil as he sent back a barrage of Stunners and Disarming Charms and mild hexes, but Sirius knew him well enough by now to recognize the barest hint of a smile on his dour face.
The next few minutes were a whirlwind of ducking and dodging and Shield Charms and trying his best to send back his own offensive spells whenever he had a spare second. Although he was sure it looked to his brother and Regulus’s friend as if he were getting his ass handed to him, the truth was that there had been a vast improvement since he’d begun his dueling lessons. In the beginning he’d barely been able to defend himself for ten seconds before one of Dolohov’s spells hit him, and he certainly hadn’t been able to even think of sending back any of his own spells. Now he could go several minutes without being hit, and he had learned how to find opportunities to send his own Stunners and jinxes. In fact, he’d gotten quite proficient at aiming while he was moving.
This time when it ended, Dolohov called a halt instead of petrifying him, which Sirius knew meant that he was particularly pleased with Sirius’s performance.
“I haven’t been hit with a Stinging Jinx since I was nine. My mother reddened my ass for cutting off one of my sister’s pigtails,” he said. Sirius wasn’t at all surprised that he’d done something like that. “Mind you, if the only way you can hit me is by cheating…”
“Cheating? That’s rich,” replied Sirius, using the haughty, arrogant tone he usually reserved for hapless first years and Severus Snape. “You Slytherins are all the same: It’s ‘using every tactical advantage’ when you do it, but it’s ‘cheating’ when anyone else does it.”
The burly Death Eater laughed, his booming voice echoing around the empty drawing room in a sort of pleasant-but-scary way, but from the corner came indignant shouts of “Oi!” and “Hey!”
Before the protests from the peanut gallery could gain traction, the door opened and they all turned as one to see who had interrupted them.
“Grandfather!” exclaimed Regulus as they all took in the sight of the tall, proud man still wearing his traveling cloak. “You’re home earlier than we’d expected.”
Sirius wasn’t surprised that his grandfather had managed to conclude his business earlier than originally planned, but he was surprised that he had barged into the dueling lesson without so much as changing out of his traveling clothes. It was nearly unheard of for Arcturus Black to present himself to guests when he looked so disheveled, and Sirius’s suspicions—and his hackles—were immediately raised by it.
For the space of several heartbeats, Arcturus surveyed the room with a severe eye. When he spoke, his voice exuded barely controlled anger. “Regulus, take your friend to my study and prepare for your lesson. Sirius, wait for me in my drawing room.”
But he was eyeing Dolohov in such a way that Sirius would have had to be dragged out of the room kicking and screaming before he left them alone.
“I still have half an hour before my lesson is over,” he said instead.
“Go, Sirius.” There was no need for him to voice the “or else” part, but still Sirius couldn’t bring himself to leave. He looked back and forth between his grandfather and his dueling instructor in indecision and not a little anxiety, until finally Arcturus snapped his fingers and the house-elf appeared already in a half-bow. “Kreacher, take Sirius to my drawing room and keep him there until I arrive.”
Sirius tried to dodge the house-elf’s knobby fingers, but Kreacher was nothing if not efficient in carrying out direct orders. Sirius did, indeed, go kicking and screaming out of the room, although the racket he made perhaps wasn’t quite as disruptive as he’d hoped since Kreacher Apparated him out of the room instead of dragging him.
When Grandfather Arcturus stalked in several minutes later, Sirius was standing defiantly in the middle of the room, waiting for him with a glare.
“What did you say to Dolohov? What did you do?”
If the older man was surprised by the vicious tone of his grandson’s voice, he did not let it show.
“Dolohov has been dismissed from his position,” he stated calmly.
Sirius’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Are you mad? He’s the best dueling instructor in the United Kingdom!”
“His pernicious influence over you has gone on long enough.” Arcturus stepped up to the sideboard along the far wall and poured himself a generous helping of whisky, completely ignoring Sirius’s protests as if he couldn’t hear them. “And as soon as I am out of the house, he begins work on your younger brother!”
“It was my idea to let Regulus and Barty watch my lesson! I thought Regulus might not be so jealous if he were included in some way,” insisted Sirius. “And he hasn’t had a negative influence on me at all! He hasn’t ever done anything except teach me how to duel!”
His grandfather’s silver eyes were as hard as ice, but his tone was carefully controlled when he spoke. “He is a Death Eater and has been turning you against your family, no doubt in an attempt to groom you for his master.”
“Turning me against my—” began Sirius, before it occurred to him suddenly where his grandfather’s ideas had come from and he closed his mouth so that he could think for a moment. He had known that his grandfather had been shocked and appalled by his outburst over the summer; in fact, this confrontation was the most time they’d spent alone together since that day. He had also known long before this that his grandfather had not liked Dolohov and had been against his appointment as Sirius’s dueling instructor since the first time Sirius had ever met the man. He supposed that now he could conclude that his grandfather must have known somehow that Dolohov was a Death Eater, and he must have placed the blame for Sirius’s behavior squarely at the man’s feet.
Sirius took a fortifying breath and said, carefully, “I had no idea that Dolohov was a Death Eater until a couple of weeks ago, and he’s not the one who told me. He’s never said anything to me or taught me anything that wasn’t directly related to dueling.”
“You knew?” asked his grandfather incredulously, and Sirius knew that it was probably the only bit of information he’d taken away from that little speech.
“Grandfather,” said Sirius slowly, as if he were speaking to the mentally infirm, “most of the Slytherin boys are or will be Death Eaters, and some of the girls, too.”
Sirius felt that he would be better off not mentioning the part about him only having learned all of this from Rabastan Lestrange a few weeks before. From the shocked and frightened look on his grandfather’s face, Sirius knew that he’d made the right decision.
“Is it so pervasive? Have so many fallen?”
“Er… yes.”
His grandfather moved across the room towards him and grabbed hold of his shoulders before Sirius had time to decide how to react. He peered down into Sirius’s eyes with an intensity that was rather frightening. “You will not join them; I forbid it. Other Houses may have fallen, but no Black will be a servant—a slave! Your brother is entirely unsuitable, but I swear to all the gods old and new that if you become a Death Eater I will disinherit you and take him in your place. Do you understand?”
Sirius blinked once, then twice, before his mind caught up.
“I understand,” he managed to say in a clear voice, although he was preoccupied thinking about how Bellatrix was already a Death Eater, and Narcissa was going to marry one even if she never took the Mark herself. He was glad that he hadn’t named any names before, because if his grandfather was willing to separate him from the best dueling instructor money could buy and threaten to disinherit him, then he would probably have no trouble at all forbidding him to see his cousins or Rabastan. And if he really would disown his own grandson, then he’d likely go immediately to blast Bellatrix off the family tapestry.
“If I swear it,” he began, recklessly clinging to the possibility of getting his teacher back, “will you allow Dolohov to keep tutoring me?”
“No,” his grandfather replied at once. “What is done is done, and it was done for the best. We will find you a new instructor.”
The days that followed were dreadful. Sirius refused to come out of his room the day after Dolohov had been dismissed. He wasn’t hiding out of any misplaced notion that his refusal to come downstairs would punish his grandfather, like he knew the adults thought. Rather he knew that if he had to face the man again so soon that he would undoubtedly speak his mind and say something that, while he wouldn’t regret it exactly, would only make their relationship all the worse.
The day after that he was ordered downstairs by his mother. It was phrased in polite tones as a request, but Sirius knew that his mother didn’t make requests, so he dragged his feet all the way to the downstairs drawing room. The conversation was even more horrific than he’d imagined.
“Walburga, he’s getting so big and so handsome!” Aunt Lucretia exclaimed as soon as she saw him, as if he weren’t in the room for her to address directly.
Sirius dutifully said how glad he was to see her and asked her how the trip from France had been, but both of the women ignored him.
“And so wild, too, worse than his father ever was,” Walburga informed her sister-in-law. “Detentions all day and night, imagine!”
Sirius sunk down into the nearest sofa while Aunt Lucretia clucked her disapproval.
“My dear, I’m sure he isn’t any worse than my brother was. He probably just doesn’t have the Slytherin knack for not getting caught.” If Sirius hadn’t known that his mother wouldn’t be pleased to hear it, he would have informed his aunt that he did at least three or four times as many things as he actually got caught for, thank you very much. “Perhaps what he needs is a fine girl to keep him in line. Orion improved drastically after he became engaged to you, and Sirius is only a year younger than he was.”
Sirius sat up straighter in alarm. “What?”
“Ooo, yes!” Walburga crooned. “I had been thinking of Lucilla Lestrange!”
“Lucilla Lestrange!” he cried. “I’d rather marry a Muggle!”
Both women turned to look at him. Aunt Lucretia’s severe hairstyle made her expression seem even more pointy and severe than it probably would have otherwise, and his mother’s dark eyes were coldly calculating in her otherwise flawlessly beautiful expression.
“Now, my darling, I know that she’s a plain little thing, but she’s more well-bred and wealthy than anyone else you’re likely to find in England,” Walburga told him, sounding almost as if she were sympathetic about him marrying someone who wasn’t beautiful. "The Black blood is strong; I'm sure that your children will take after their father."
Her looks had absolutely nothing to do with why Sirius felt nauseous at the thought of marrying her, much less impregnating her. Memories of her words and Rabastan’s reactions flitted across his mind.
He glared at his mother. “If you try to set up an engagement between us, I swear I’ll treat her so badly that no amount of money would make her go through with it.”
He stalked out of the room without a backward glance, only belatedly realizing that perhaps he should have made it clear that he’d do the same to any girl they tried to set him up with without his permission. Knowing his mother, he’d come back downstairs to find that in his absence he’d been engaged to that Parkinson twit in fifth year, or maybe to Alastair Greengrass’s nine-year-old sister whom Sirius had never even met.
He felt a bit better the next day, when no engagement was announced and Barty finally went home to his own family. The Crouches stayed for dinner at Grimmauld Place before collecting their son, and Sirius was quietly amused by the way his family and Mr. Crouch danced around the dragon in the room: the Blacks’ obviously Dark practices, and Mr. Crouch’s outspoken opposition to the Dark Arts as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Although he tried to be subtle about it, Mr. Crouch eyed everything around him suspiciously, as if he might find something incriminating about the silverware or the drapery. Grandfather Arcturus had been hard pressed all evening to find anything to talk about that didn’t involve politics about which they disagreed.
“Barty tells me that he has a particular passion for herbology,” Orion helpfully contributed into the awkward silence that had fallen between the men as Kreacher cleared away their dinner plates.
“Bartemius knows that excelling at useful subjects is more important than his little hobby,” replied Mr. Crouch as he peered distrustfully into his pudding.
Still, it was clear that the Crouches weren’t about to disapprove of the growing friendship between Barty and Regulus. Why would they, given that Arcturus was a member of the Wizengamot, and the Blacks had never been publicly accused of any crimes?
Sirius really ought not to begrudge his brother the friendship, but the truth was that he did. He was insanely jealous that his brother had a best friend he could talk about openly and actually bring home for a visit, whereas Sirius would never have dared suggest that James Potter or Peter Pettigrew or Remus Lupin be allowed to visit Grimmauld Place, and he wasn’t anywhere near close enough to any of the Slytherins in his year to want to invite them for a visit.
The only part of the Crouches’ visit he hadn’t liked was when his mother and aunt had asked Mrs. Crouch, née Travers, all about her and her husband’s families, particularly the girls. Sirius supposed that it was a good thing Barty was an only child, because if he’d had a sister then she and Sirius would have been engaged before the pudding had been cleared away and dessert served.

Although Sirius never would have thought it possible two and a half years ago when he’d first been sorted into Gryffindor, the common room in the tower was starting to feel more and more like home. It seemed that every time he left, he was more eager than ever to come back. (Of course, his increasing frustration with his life at Grimmauld Place probably contributed quite a bit to his warm feelings about Gryffindor Tower.) Even the red and gold, garish as it still was when paired together, was starting to grow on him. And he had to admit that the squishy, threadbare sofas, which he’d only ungenerously called tatty before, were the most comfortable sofas he’d ever planted his ass on.
Unfortunately, there were fewer seats than there were people who wanted to sit on them, so there was always quite a fight amongst the Gryffindors. Fortunately for Sirius, he and his friends had such a reputation at this point that even their housemates were wary of crossing them for fear of waking to find that all of their clothes had been changed to Slytherin colors or that their hair had been semi-permanently spelled off.
“Up you go,” James told a pair of second years who had claimed the best sofa nearest the fireplace.
Remus looked on disapprovingly as the younger kids cleared out, no doubt because they had their potions books spread out around them and had seemed to be in the middle of an intense studying session before they’d been interrupted. However, Sirius knew that he wouldn’t actually put up any sort of fuss on their behalf, not if it meant possibly offending James. Remus might have spoken up against Sirius or Peter if James weren’t involved, but he had a special kind of loyalty to his first friend.
Sirius threw his arm around the slighter boy, wincing a bit to feel the bony shoulders. It was a reminder of the toll the lycanthropy took on his friend’s body.
“Lighten up, Remus,” he said jovially, pushing down those thoughts. “They deserve it for trying to study on the first night back.”
Remus looked as if he were debating how to reply to that pronouncement when Sirius released him suddenly with a loud, “OI!”
James and Peter were scrambling around the sofa that the second years had just vacated; there was room for two of them to sprawl out, and the other two would have to pull up less comfortable chairs. Sirius took advantage of his long legs and vaulted over the back of the sofa, landing on his back across the cushions. A second later, James landed heavily across his stomach.
Sirius’s breath was knocked out of his body with a loud “Oof!”
James laughed and bounced a bit as Peter came up short to stand next to Sirius’s head. “Too slow, mate!”
Peter scowled at him, his small eyes scrunching even more in displeasure.
As soon as he was able to breathe again, Sirius shoved at Potter, who was still bouncing on his stomach. “Get off me, Potter!”
After much kicking and shoving and good-natured name-calling, they finally sprawled comfortably, Sirius’s long legs hooked over the back of the sofa and James’s extended beside Sirius’s body. Still grumbling over the loss of his spot, Peter slouched into the nearest armchair, which Sirius knew from experience was slightly less comfortable. Remus had pulled another chair up closer to the fire, which was his usual habit since his thin frame couldn’t seem to hold onto any heat in the drafty tower.
Things settled down quickly. For a bunch of reputed troublemakers, most of their time was spent doing rather boring, mundane things. Of course, Sirius thought, for a famous magical castle, Hogwarts could be rather boring and mundane itself at times, especially for somebody who had grown up in the magical world and wasn’t surprised by moving staircases and ghosts and other such things. James was dividing his time between studying a Quidditch tactics reference book with animated diagrams and interrupting Remus’s concentration on his advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts book. Peter was trying to teach Sirius the finer points of Muggle poker, but Sirius was having trouble remembering all of the rules.
“Is it better to have all of the same little symbols or to have two of the same person?” he asked, tapping his finger impatiently against the backs of the cards in his hand. “I can never remember.”
Peter let out a grumble of exasperation. “The point of the game is to keep your hand a secret, Sirius!”
Sirius shrugged in unconcern. “Maybe you’re just a bad teacher.”
From behind his tatty textbook, Remus lifted his golden brown eyes to look at them in amusement. “He was probably hoping you wouldn’t notice that on account of your overwhelming arrogance,” he told Sirius, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Then he could win plenty of Galleons off you.”
Sirius’s laugh barked out across the common room, drawing attention from the scattered groups playing chess and catching up with the friends and rushing to complete homework assignments they ought to have finished over break. Lily Evans and Emmeline Vance, who were inexplicably sitting together at a table next to the stairs leading up to the girls’ dormitories, both glared in his direction. As the commotion died down and Peter’s halfhearted protests of innocence subsided, Sirius rose from the sofa, inciting a brief squabble with James, and made a show of stretching.
“Where’re you going?” demanded James as he took the opportunity to stretch out along the entire length of the vacated cushions.
“To snog Edgecomb,” inserted Peter, even as he rolled his eyes at the way James had taken up the entire sofa as if nobody else had wanted to sit there.
“Where else would he go after such a long drought?” picked up Remus. “How long has it been, Sirius? Two whole weeks?”
The three of them dissolved into laughter at his expense, but Sirius wasn’t bothered. He allowed an easy smile to cross over his thin, well-formed lips. “That’s right. I am sure that one of these days some poor girls will take pity on you boys and then you’ll know what it’s like. Maybe Evans for you, eh Potter?”
James spluttered and jerked far enough off the sofa so that he could see whether Evans had heard the comment. Remus and Peter burst into renewed peals of laughter at his reaction, but James was clearly not at all pleased to have the joke turned on him, if his dark look was anything to go by. Sirius would have to be sure to check his bed for booby traps before crawling into it that night. Although they had all agreed that they were all off limits in public, minor pranks in the privacy of their dormitory were fair game, and Potter was a sore loser. Sirius was already planning his counter-prank before he’d even crossed the common room to the portrait hole.
As an ancient magical castle, Hogwarts had layers upon layers of magic that had been built up for nearly a thousand years. Unfortunately, there apparently wasn’t enough magic in the world to make the stone corridors any less drafty in the dead of winter. Sirius cast a charm on his robes to help warm himself, but he really wished that he’d thought to grab his cloak and maybe a scarf before he’d left the tower.
The individual rooms were a bit better than the halls, but the classroom where Janice was waiting for him had long been unused and the spells not maintained as religiously as occupied parts of the castle. Their breath puffed out in a cloud of steam between them as they leaned in for a kiss, which produced a giggle from Janice. Sirius smiled and closed the rest of the distance between them. Her lips felt soft and smooth against his own, and he briefly tasted the butterscotch flavor of her lip gloss before she pulled back.
“You need to start using lip balm,” she informed him matter-of-factly. She raised her hand to cup his cheek and ran her thumb gently along his chapped bottom lip. “I’ll bring some to Arithmancy tomorrow.”
“Do you think you can put up with it in the meantime?”
He didn’t wait for a response but leaned down to press his mouth back against hers. She seemed more than happy to oblige him. Her hand migrated away from his cheek to tangle in the hair at the base of his neck, and he let his hands span her waist to pull her up closer against him until her chest was crushed into his.
When she broke the kiss again it was only to rest her head against his shoulder and wrap her arms around his waist.
“Before you make me forget again,” she mumbled into his shoulder, “I wanted to say thank you for the necklace.”
He eyed the golden eagle that hung from a delicate chain around her neck. It was little more than a bauble, really—something he’d seen in one of the Hogwarts-themed catalogues that one of the Gryffindor girls had left lying in the common room. He had thought it would make a nice Christmas gift, since she had admired his Gryffindor pieces before and he knew that she didn’t have any Ravenclaw ones of her own.
“Thank you for my books. I’ve really enjoyed the first two,” he replied truthfully. She had sent him a fairly nice bound set of books by some Muggle bloke called Lewis. Sirius had been surprised at first—not at the fact that a Ravenclaw would give him books as a gift, but that she’d give him Muggle books—but they had really been quite entertaining thus far.
She beamed up at him. “I’m so glad! My sister’s boyfriend told me you’d like them, but I wasn’t sure.”
Apparently one of her older sisters was dating a Muggle-born, but she usually refrained from mentioning it too much around Sirius, as it was clear that he was uncomfortable with the idea. Janice well remembered how upset he had been by The Andromeda Incident. Still, the fact that her family accepted the relationship threw into stark relief the differences between her family and his, and Sirius’s thoughts immediately went to his mother and aunt’s efforts over the holiday. He wondered if Janice knew that he would have to break up with her eventually, whenever he could no longer stop his parents from setting him up with some girl from a respectable family.
The thought made him feel awkward enough that she was able to tell something was wrong by the time he delivered her back to Ravenclaw Tower. But he had gotten ahold of himself by the next morning when he took his seat next to her in Arithmancy, and he gracefully accepted the small container of lip balm she offered him. (Fortunately she had managed to find some that didn’t taste like butterscotch or strawberry or anything else, or leave any sort of shine or gloss or on his lips.) Still, there remained a sense of slight discomfort between them that hadn’t been there before.
Sirius could also feel Evan Rosier’s eyes on the back of his head throughout the class, and then later that afternoon when the Gryffindors had Potions with the Slytherins. Even James, who was usually too focused on what Lily Evans and Snape were doing at their station to see anything else (including what his own potions were doing), noticed Rosier’s incessant staring.
“What’s his problem anyway?” the other boy demanded as they were walking out of the dungeons. They were at a respectable distance behind the group of third-year Slytherins, but James was so loud that the group obviously heard. “He hasn’t even tried to talk to you since that day on the train!”
Sirius almost pointed out that James had treated him worse than Rosier had back then—Potter had actively antagonized him, whereas Rosier had merely ignored him. Remus obviously knew where his thoughts were heading, because he gave Sirius a look somewhere between wary and pleading. He was probably right, so Sirius swallowed his retort.
“It’s fine, James,” he said instead. Evan looked back over his shoulder and their eyes met briefly. “I can handle it.”
The Slytherin flushed and turned back around to respond to something Will Avery had said, and James eyed Sirius skeptically.
“I hope you aren’t thinking of letting him get away with it just because you used to be friends,” Potter told him with frown. “He’s a Slytherin now; you’re not.”
He really wondered whether James knew that he was just as blindly biased as the Slytherins he hated so much. Sirius was no longer surprised by it, after having heard James’s opinions on how Sirius and his own mother had chosen to rise above Slytherin and be something better and other Slytherins should be able to make that choice as well, but it was still discomfiting and annoying. His fellow Gryffindor usually refrained from saying anything too bad about Slytherins because Sirius’s family were all in that house, but his feelings were still clear.
Sirius thought, not for the first time, that his life had been much easier when everybody equally wanted nothing to do with him.
By the time he finally managed to slip away and meet Rabastan in their abandoned room in the dungeons several weeks after the start of term, he really needed an outlet for everything that was bothering him or else he was going to snap. Rabastan was leaning back casually on the tabletop, idly training his light-colored wand on a mouse that was screeching and writhing in a way that Sirius would recognize anywhere.
“Should you be doing that here?” Sirius asked, more out of worry for Rabastan being caught than any concern that his friend was going around Cruciating innocent rodents for fun.
The older boy turned his head just enough to glance sideways at Sirius with one sapphire eye that was glinting in morbid amusement. “No, but what are they going to do about it even if they catch me?”
Sirius thought about it for a few seconds and had to concede the point. “I guess nothing, as long as you stick to mice.”
“Dolohov says that I have to think too much about my intentions before I’m able to cast Unforgivables,” Rabastan said by way of explanation as trained his wand on the mouse and his brow furrowed in concentration, “and that the only way that I’ll ever be effective at using them is if I practice so much that it’s like muscle memory except for my mind. Avada Kedavra.”
It was only the second time that Sirius had ever seen that particular shade of green, a ghastly bright color that seemed to trigger an instinctive sense of terror in him as the glow hung like a fog in the air around his friend’s wand. The first time had been when his father had demonstrated the Unforgivables to him when he was young and had asked about them after having seen the term in a Dark book he’d snuck out of Grimmauld Place’s library without permission. His grandfather had become quite serious when he’d asked—even more serious than he usually was—and had insisted that it was one of those private conversations that only a father ought to have with his son. Orion had taken Sirius into his office and barred the door behind them, even though Regulus, who couldn’t have been more than five or six and hadn’t known what was going on, had been left crying in the hallway at being excluded. His father’s explanation and subsequent demonstration had been the first time Sirius had realized how great and terrible the power inside of him that he’d always taken for granted could be.
Rabastan noticed his discomfort and offered him a slight smirk. “I still feel that way too, whenever I watch anybody else cast it. It doesn’t seem to cause that reaction when it’s your own curse, though. I’m sure Dolohov will teach you soon enough, and then you’ll see for yourself.”
“No, he won’t.” The bitter words had been out of his mouth before he’d realized.
“Sure he will!” Rabastan frowned and tilted his head as he looked at Sirius, as if he couldn’t quite figure out a puzzle. “Did he yell at you about how hopeless you are or something? Don’t worry about it; he only does that to people he thinks have potential. He just curses everybody else and leaves them for their parents to sort out, if they can.”
Sirius couldn’t help the brief smile that flitted across his lips at that. It did sound exactly like the way Dolohov would handle things. But it disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared.
“My grandfather fired him.”
It would have been amusing the way the older boy’s pink mouth fell open and his eyes widened comically, if Sirius hadn’t been so upset.
Finally, after he’d opened his mouth as if to say something several times without any words coming out, Rabastan managed to exclaim, “He did what?!” Sirius knew that it was a rhetorical question, so he kept silent. Sure enough, within a few seconds Rabastan, who by that point had risen from the table and was pacing in agitation, turned on him with a hard look that Sirius knew wasn’t directly aimed at him. “Why would he do that? Dolohov is the best dueling instructor money can buy!”
“I know,” replied Sirius.
“You won’t find anybody better!” Rabastan declared.
Sirius reached out to lay a hand on the older boy’s arm to stop him from jabbing his wand around to emphasize his words.
“Rab, I know,” he reiterated. “He… Well, he doesn’t want me to be a—a Death Eater. He told Dolohov to get out and said that he’d disinherit me if I ever joined.”
Rabastan gaped at him for just a moment until he regained control of his expression. “Disinherit you? Even my parents never threatened to do that! Still…” he trailed off for a moment in contemplation, “it makes sense, now, why your father has kept making excuses about why he can’t take the Mark, even though he’s given plenty of money….”
That was news to Sirius. It did make sense, though. His father had been the one to hire Dolohov, even though Sirius’s grandfather had been against it from the very start. Clearly he supported whatever Dolohov was about. But if Arcturus had threatened to disinherit his own son if he became a Death Eater, just like he’d done to Sirius, then Orion would have known that it was no idle threat.
He eyed the Slytherin boy apprehensively. “Did you… expect me to join?”
“Well, yeah, I guess,” answered Rabastan. He looked surprised that he’d been asked. “I suppose I just took it for granted that you would be with m—er, us.”
Sirius had to have known that already on some level, if he’d ever bothered to stop and think about it, and now he felt a deep anxiety settle in his stomach. The Gryffindors were only his friend because they thought he’d separated himself from the Slytherins. Apparently the Slytherins were only his friends because they assumed that, despite his second life in Gryffindor, he was still one of them. Meanwhile, his grandfather disliked everything Gryffindor-ish about him but also forbade him from following his Slytherin friends’ path. The pressure from all sides was overwhelming, and suddenly he felt the worries that he’d been holding in for years bubble up. It was absolutely mortifying, but he couldn’t stop the tears of frustration that welled up in his eyes.
Rabastan looked incredibly alarmed at this turn of events. His panicked expression struck Sirius as so funny that laughter boiled up next to his tears, and he thought he would choke on his combined sobs and giggles.
He went willingly when his friend eventually decided that an embrace was the best course of action for dealing with a friend who had descended into hysterics. Rabastan’s arms were solid around him, and his shoulder was strong under Sirius’s cheek. It was probably one of the most comforting things Sirius had experienced in the past few years, but then he noticed the dead mouse on the table mere inches from their bodies and he couldn’t help the increased laughter that shook his body. Laughter and strength and death… that was definitely the essence of Rabastan Lestrange.
“It doesn’t matter, Sirius. You know I’d love you no matter what, don’t you?” asked the Slytherin a few minutes later, when he deemed from the lack of tears that it was safe to speak. Sirius hadn’t known that, in fact. He couldn’t remember the last time that anybody had said they loved him—surely his mother had said it before, but he couldn’t remember any specific time when she had. He let the feeling of calm wash over him as his friend added, “You could become an Auror for all I care. It wouldn’t change my opinion of you.”
Not that Rabastan could see it, but Sirius couldn’t help but raise a skeptical eyebrow at that declaration. “Really? An Auror?”
He could feel Rabastan shrug. “Well, I’d probably be a mite perturbed if you arrested me for being a Dark wizard.”
Sirius’s bark-like laughter echoed in the narrow confines of the stone room as his friend released him and he stepped back. Rabastan’s grin reached all the way to his eyes, still predatory for all that it was full and genuine.
“Speaking of Aurors, though,” he plowed onwards, clearly having decided that they were to change the subject and never again speak of what had just happened, “what do you think of Crouch?”
“Crouch?” repeated Sirius. “You mean Mr. Crouch?”
Rabastan Vanished the mouse with an efficient gesture and hefted himself back up onto the table. “No, I mean Barty. Of course your brother is a welcome member of our group because, well, he is who he is, but we’re all a bit wary of Crouch. He’s got impeccable bloodlines, but his father…”
“I doubt he’ll go running to his father about anything he finds out in Slytherin,” said Sirius, understanding at once what the other Slytherins’ concerns were.
“Yeah, that’s the sense I got, too,” affirmed Rabastan. “He kind of seems like he, well, you know…”
“Doesn’t like his father?” filled in Sirius. “Yeah, I got that, too. I never saw him say two words to Mr. Crouch that weren’t ‘yes, sir’ or 'no, sir,' and that was only when he had no choice but to answer a direct question.”
Rabastan leaned back on his elbows. “Well, I’ll give him a chance. The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement’s only child would certainly be a real coup for me, maybe even enough to make up for my having let the Black heir slip through my fingers.”
His expression was neutral and he didn’t seem to be making any sort of point, but Sirius was still quite uncomfortable with the idea that his friend might actually get into trouble over Sirius not becoming a Death Eater. His life really had been easier when he hadn’t had to worry about anyone except himself.

Sirius had thought that his efforts to procure potions ingredients over the break would be enough to convince James that it was unnecessary to sneak into Hogsmeade. He was still hesitant to make the leap from more-or-less harmless pranks to breaking serious rules and committing crimes, especially since he was already on such thin ice with his grandfather, but James was still insisting that there was no other way. Sirius, unfortunately, hadn’t been able to come up with a viable alternative for obtaining a few of the most highly controlled substances, but he still hated to admit that James was right.
His fate was sealed the second Saturday in March, when Remus failed to return from his transformation. Normally on days after a full moon he would make his way back to Gryffindor Tower by mid-morning and spend several hours resting in their dormitory, only emerging after his friends had brought him lunch in bed. On this particular day, however, he still hadn’t turned up by lunchtime, and they were all rather worried.
Professor McGonagall looked less than impressed to have three insistent third-years piled into her office demanding answers. Although it must be said that it was infinitely preferable to have them in her office because they were demanding answers from her, than to have them in her office because she was demanding answers from them to get to the bottom of whatever they’d done, which was the usual way of things.
“Boys, I can assure you that Mr. Lupin is just fine,” she repeated for the third time, though by then her patience was wearing thin and so was her veneer of polite professionalism. “He has permission from the headmaster to visit his ailing mother—”
“Professor McGonagall,” interrupted James, “we know that’s not true.”
She looked taken aback for a moment, her nostrils flaring and her eyebrows lifting on her high forehead. She gave James a pointed look. “You—you all know?”
“You mean did Sirius Black notice that his roommate was always missing on the full moon and not ask his grandfather to have the beast executed forthwith?” demanded Sirius. The normally open, cheerful expression that he found himself wearing around his Gryffindor friends had closed off into the cold, haughty mask that his family had cultivated since his childhood. The guilty expression in the professor’s eyes was enough to confirm his suspicions, and Sirius wondered again at the fact that his fellow Gryffindors still thought the worst of him because of his last name and automatically assumed that he would revert to what they thought of as Slytherin proclivities as soon as something bothered him.
McGonagall appeared to think it best to neither confirm nor deny his accusation. Instead she said, “Very well. Mr. Lupin is still under Madam Pomfrey’s care, but she tells me that he will be released this evening.”
“Oh, well, we’ll just go see him, then,” said James, already turning towards the door.
“Absolutely not!” declared Professor McGonagall. “Your friend needs rest and relaxation, and you two”—here she narrowed accusing eyes on James and Sirius—“are the least relaxing set of miscreants I have ever met.”
“But—” they both began at once, but their Head of House was having none of it.
“Do not test me, Mr. Black and Mr. Potter,” she said with a severe frown. “Now, off with you! And I had better not hear that any of you were within viewing distance of the infirmary.”
A significant look passed between James and him when Sirius turned in the direction of his friend to make his way out the door. The three boys turned as one down the short corridor back towards the main staircase, conscience of the fact that Professor McGonagall might well check to make sure they’d gone in the correct direction. They went a couple of corridors further than strictly necessary before turning to head back towards the hospital wing.
“What are you doing?” demanded Peter. He had stopped in his tracks as his two friends started into one of the secret passages behind a portrait on the fourth floor.
James looked at him with the part pitying, part annoyed looked that he seemed to have developed just for Peter’s sake. “We’re going to see Remus, of course.”
“McGonagall said—” began Peter, but James quickly cut him off.
“You’re not afraid of a little trouble, are you?” he challenged.
“I don’t want to get in trouble for that—” Peter started, and Sirius knew that he was about to say aloud that he didn’t want to risk his own neck on account of a werewolf. Fortunately, he caught Sirius’s wide-eyed glare from behind James’s shoulder and instead said, “that, er, silly of a reason. McGonagall said that he’s fine, and we’ll see him later today.”
Peter’s prejudices against werewolves had hardly abated over the months they’d all been friends, though he tolerated Remus’s presence for the sake of being friends with Sirius and James. Sirius had privately assured him that he also hadn’t forgotten what Lupin was, and that was partially true. The other half of the truth, which he hadn’t told Peter, was that hanging out with Remus had made him begin to seriously reconsider whether everything he’d been taught about werewolves was entirely true. He was still somewhat uncomfortable with the idea, but the largest part of Sirius’s tolerance for Remus was some mixture of longing to belong in Gryffindor and a newfound hatred for all of the rules imposed on him from all sides. If James thought that being friends with a secret werewolf was fine, then Sirius would play along for the sake of maintaining his recent increase in status. And if everybody around them thought that being friends with a werewolf was dangerous and simply not done, then of course Sirius had to do it.
Sirius didn’t want to actually visit Remus in the hospital wing any more than Peter did, but it wasn’t because Remus was a werewolf. It was because he knew that the likelihood of getting a detention out of it was very high. Still, sacrifices must be made in order to maintain the peace, and there wasn’t any way to talk James out of going.
He stepped forward to swing a restraining arm around James’s shoulders and offered Peter a half smile full of the understanding that he knew the other boy thought they had on the subject. “I’m sure nobody will notice a quick drop in.”
Everybody in the hospital wing, as it turned out, noticed their visit. This was primarily because James was completely unable to modulate the volume of his voice when he saw the state of his friend, who was propped up with an unreasonable number of pillows and covered in bandages and some sort of bitter-smelling ointment.
“What happened?!” demanded James. He reached out as if to touch the bandage that ran across the left side of Remus’s face and over his eye, but smartly thought better of it and let his hand fall limply back to his side.
“Oh, you’re here.” Remus opened his uncovered eye. He didn’t sound as pleased as Sirius would have expected. “You—you shouldn’t have come.”
Peter huffed from his place standing a bit behind Sirius, but Sirius didn’t think anybody else heard him.
“Of course we should have come!” exclaimed James, still too loudly.
A group of girls who were surrounding one of their friends in a bed across the infirmary stopped talking and turned nearly as one to glare at him. Sirius felt a distinct desire to reach out and whack James on the back of the head as hard as he could, but he was thwarted by the sudden appearance of Madam Pomfrey herself.
“MR. POTTER!” she shouted from her office door, and every student in the infirmary swiveled around to look. She crossed the large room in less time than Sirius would have thought possible, and only when she was close enough to speak without shouting did she loose a glare on all three of them and continue. “You boys were explicitly told not to visit Mr. Lupin! He needs uninterrupted rest, and you can be sure that I informed Professor McGonagall as soon as I saw that you’d come to harass him!”
Peter groaned. Sirius was hard pressed not to follow his example, although he’d known that they would end up in trouble over this.
James, however, insisted, “We’re not harassing him! We just wanted to see if he was all right!”
“Of course he’s all right! He’s under my care!” The matron was clearly affronted at the implication that anybody needed to double check the status of her patients.
Sirius collared James as he gesticulated wildly in Remus’s direction, thankfully before he actually managed to open his mouth and retort that it didn’t look like Pomfrey was taking good care of his friend. He yanked sharply on the handful of James’s robes he’d grabbed and began dragging him backwards towards the doors, speaking over him as his friend tried to protest.
“You’re right, Madam Pomfrey. We were just worried about our friend, but clearly he needs some peace and quiet.”
She glared them all the way out the door, where James finally freed himself from Sirius’s grasp and turned on him with a furious look of his own.
“What was that for?”
“Honestly, James, I’d rather not get a double or triple detention just because you can’t keep your big mouth shut,” Sirius told him calmly. He realized, of course, that he wasn’t exactly the best example of self-control on that front, but there was no need to bring up ancient history.
“That was probably a good decision, Mr. Black,” came the strict voice of Professor McGonagall just before she appeared around the corner of the corridor leading back towards her office. She was still clutching a quill in her hand, as if she had left her office in such a hurry that she’d forgotten to put it down. “You already have a double detention for disobeying my direct instructions. This Saturday—”
James cut her off with a horrified gasp. “But Professor! Next Saturday is the match against Hufflepuff, and we have an all-day practice scheduled for this Saturday!”
Professor McGonagall’s frown deepened, and Sirius was sure that she was going to give them detention next Saturday as well as punishment for the outburst. Then, to his surprise, she furtively looked around and took a step closer to their group, raising her plain black quill, which was just as no-nonsense and free of embellishments as its owner, and pointed it half an inch from James’s nose.
“You won’t tell anybody about this, Potter!”
James, eyes shining with mischief, nodded his assent. “Of course not, Professor McGonagall.”
Sirius found the quill direct at him next, and he assured his Head of House that he wouldn’t breathe a word, quickly followed by Peter doing the same.
“Very well,” said Professor McGonagall. “You will all report to my office on Saturday three weeks hence. And you had better squash Hufflepuff next week! Pomona is getting too big for her britches after Hufflepuff’s win against Ravenclaw.”
Later, after they returned to their common room, Sirius had no choice but to admit that Remus needed help sooner rather than later. He and James covertly passed notes about their upcoming foray into Hogsmeade, as their plans had been severely disrupted by Professor McGonagall having just given them detentions on that day. Peter, for his part, didn’t even bother to pretend not to notice that he was being excluded from something. His displeasure was evident to all who saw him. However, James seemed to find his silent treatment rather more amusing than anything else. Sirius felt bad for Peter, whom he knew wanted nothing more than to be respected, but on the other hand he was a bit pleased that James wasn’t likely to give the smaller boy any reason to transfer his loyalty from Sirius to James.
He felt even worse for Remus when he entered the common room some time later, and there wasn’t even another hand to make it better. He came in with his head down and a barely noticeable limp, and he probably wouldn’t have even been noticed if he hadn’t shuffled right into a passing seventh year girl, who promptly gasped and stared in wide-eyed surprise at his face in the midst of their mutual apologies. After that, everybody noticed the ugly red line that bisected Remus’s eyebrow and ran along the side of his face to curve slightly over his cheek.
“It was just an accident,” he announced loudly enough for everybody to hear. “I went home to visit my mother, you see, and my father is something of an inventor and I got caught in the crosshairs.”
It was an unbelievable story, to Sirius’s ears, but their fellow students seemed to take it at face value.
Even Lily Evans braved the proximity of James and Sirius in order to come over to their usual spot in the common room to check on Remus. “Oh, it isn’t so bad, Remus,” she told him, though she was clearly lying. After he gave her an incredulous look, she gave up and said, “Oh, but maybe you should go see Madam Pomfrey, just in case she can do something about it.”
Remus offered a small smile in response to her efforts. “Thanks, Lily, but I’ve already seen her. It was a lot worse before, and she tells me that it will become less noticeable over time, but she couldn’t remove the scar entirely.”
The boys retreated to their dormitory soon after that, on account of Remus’s clearly increasing discomfort with the scrutiny of everybody in the common room. Sirius expected that as soon as they were alone Peter would act disinterested, James would hover and demand the real story, and he would play referee as he usually did. However, James Potter’s fickle attention had apparently been thoroughly distracted from his best friend’s injuries and onto much more important matters.
“Lily? Lily, Remus?” he squawked as soon as he’d shut the heavy wooden door behind him. “Since when are you on a first name basis with Evans?”
Remus looked a bit hurt, if unsurprised. He settled onto his bed with a little sigh of relief before he turned cool eyes and a calm voice on his friend. “Since last year. She’s been helping me with Charms and I’ve been helping her with Defense.”
James gawked at him. “Since last year? How didn’t I know about this?”
“Because Lily doesn’t want anything to do with you, so we’ve been meeting while you and Sirius have Quidditch practice or detention.”
“How come she wants anything to do with you, seeing as you’re friends with James and all?” asked Sirius, before Potter could get another word in.
“We’ve agreed to disagree about our respective choices in friends.” Remus shrugged, then winced a bit when the movement pulled at one of his bandages.
Sirius expected a further blow up, but James surprised him by turning sharply on his heel and storming out of the dormitory rather than yelling or making any accusations. Sirius was grateful and sunk down onto his bed without further comment. He really couldn’t care less that Remus had been doing schoolwork with Evans behind their backs, but he suspected that James’s obsession with the girl was only going to get worse after this revelation. If he was jealous of Snivellus of all people—greasy, big-nosed, ugly Snivellus, whom Evans clearly only saw as a friend—then how much more jealous was he going to be of Remus, who, for all that he was a werewolf, was a reasonably attractive boy.
“You know,” added Remus, “Lily dislikes you almost as much as she dislikes James. Over something Emmeline Vance told her, apparently.”
Sirius propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look at the boy in the bed next to his. “Since when do Evans and Vance talk?”
Remus’s mouth twitched as if he were holding back a smile. “For a while now. I suppose you wouldn’t have noticed, since you only have eyes for pranks and Janice Edgecomb.”
Even though Sirius wasn’t sure at first whether to believe that Evans, Vance, and Macdonald had somehow gotten over their grievances and become friends without him noticing, he was able to confirm it the next morning during Ancient Runes. Snape and Mary Macdonald had both decided not to take the class (He had heard that Snape had talked Slughorn into giving him an extra project in Potions but that the professor had only been able to accommodate him during this class period, while he assumed the Mary was just not smart enough to handle the class.), and Sirius noticed for the first time that Evans and Vance sat together at a table several rows behind his.
Remus noticed him looking at the girls and actually risked passing a note from his table directly behind Sirius’s. I told you so.
Sirius was not impressed, but Peter, who sat beside Remus, thought it was funny enough that Professor Dower nearly caught him snickering into his hand. Janice’s soft hand brushed Sirius’s as she curiously pulled the scrap of paper over to her side of their table, and she glanced at him in question after reading it. But there was no opportunity for him to explain what was going on during class, not with the professor already suspicious of them due to Peter’s behavior, and after class he and his fellow Gryffindors had to make a mad dash to make it all the way from the sixth floor to the dungeons in time for Potions.
Everything seemed to go back to normal there, with Evans joining Snape at their usual station and Vance joining Macdonald, who had just come from Care of Magical Creatures, and each pair seeming to ignore the other. James, who trailed in after Macdonald, looked just as unhappy as he always did after Care of Magical Creatures. He hadn’t wanted to load himself down with all of the difficult classes and hadn’t seen any need to take Ancient Runes to become an Auror, but that had been before he’d realized that all three of his friends had chosen Runes instead of Care of Magical Creatures. (Sirius thought that James had the right idea about not taking difficult classes if they were going to be virtually useless in his life, but his parents and grandfather never would have allowed him not to take Ancient Runes, so he couldn’t follow his friend’s example.)
With a last look between Evans and Vance, and a sympathetic smile in James’s direction, Sirius took his seat next to Peter just as Slughorn was bustling up the aisle towards the front of the room. James glared unhappily in return as he took his usual seat next to Remus. He was clearly still angry with the other boy.
“Do you think he’ll get over it soon?” whispered Peter as soon as Slughorn turned to write on the blackboard.
“Eventually,” replied Sirius. A thought occurred to him then, and he glanced sideways at his friend and asked in a tone more accusing than he’d intended, “Say, where were you during Remus’s little meetings?”
Peter held up his hands in surrender. One was covered in purple goo and the other was still clutching his scalpel. “I didn’t know any more than you did. He always told me he was going to the library, and of course I didn’t want to go, so I just stayed in the tower.”
Sirius nodded and turned his attention back to his work station, his tongue poking out a bit between his thin lips as he concentrated on holding a root still so that he could slice at it.
“What’d you do, then?”
“Mostly read my father’s journals,” Peter responded.
Sirius nodded again in understanding. Peter and he hadn’t had much opportunity to keep up with their various Dark Arts pursuits ever since becoming friendly with Potter and Lupin the year before. There were only so many excuses they could use, either together or separately, to get away from their dorm mates without the two insisting to be allowed to come along or else getting suspicious. Sirius had taken to claiming that he was seeing Janice between classes or on evenings when he really wasn’t, just so he could slip down to the dungeons for a few minutes and cast a few Dark spells to alleviate the almost-constant itch he could feel under his skin. Peter had no such excuse, but at least he was able to openly read some of his father’s potions journals without fear of James or Remus looking over his shoulder, and apparently he’d been able to read the ones that he couldn’t risk his friends seeing when they were all out of the dormitory.
“Here,” said Peter suddenly, grabbing hold of Sirius’s wrist to stop him from further mutilating his root, “you can crush them instead if all you want is the juice.” Sirius tried out the technique that his friend demonstrated and was pleased to get significantly better results than he’d been getting by trying to slice it. Peter watched him with his head held by an arm propped up against their table, having finished with all of his own work already. Then he declared, “I want to know what you and James are doing.”
Sirius paused in his work for a split second, but it was long enough for Peter to notice his discomfort. “We’ll tell you soon,” he assured. “It’s just that right now the fewer people who know, the better.”
“Does Remus know?”
“No,” Sirius confirmed. Peter looked pleased that at least he wasn’t the only one out of the loop. “Look, trust me when I say that you don’t want to know right now.”
That wasn’t even a little bit of a fib. Sirius was quite sure that if he told Peter about their plan to sneak off school grounds, break into the Hogsmeade apothecary, and steal several strictly controlled ingredients, then his friend would immediately regret having been told. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Peter not to tell; although Sirius had frequently been annoyed at the open and talkative Peter of their first year, his friend had more than proved himself by now. Rather it was that Peter wouldn’t like to be an accomplice to such serious crimes. Sirius perfectly understood his position, since it wasn’t like he was a Black or a Potter with a rich, powerful family standing behind him to catch him if he were to take the fall. Sirius was uncomfortable enough about it, and he did know that he’d be able to complete his education and go on to live his life just as had always been planned even if he were expelled from Hogwarts.
Peter looked skeptical at the idea that he wouldn’t want to know, but his experience with Sirius had long since taught him when it was safe to question and when it wasn’t. Reluctantly he replied, “Fine. But you will tell me?”
“Yes.”
“When?” he demanded.
“Soon!” repeated Sirius. And the sooner the better, if he had anything to say about it. Neither James nor he were any good at potion brewing, and they would need Peter to take the lead on that aspect of things if they were going to succeed. Even if James didn’t like to admit it.

The next three weeks passed by both quickly and slowly to Sirius. Quidditch practice kept him busier than usual the first week, and on the second Saturday Gryffindor absolutely pummeled Hufflepuff five hundred and forty to two hundred and seventy. They had been up by four hundred and twenty points and many students had already left the stands before the Hufflepuff Seeker had beaten Amanda Towler to the Snitch by a long mile. All that was left for them to do was wait it out to see how badly Slytherin beat Hufflepuff in the first week of May, so the Gryffindors would know how many points they had to score a few weeks later against Ravenclaw in order to stay ahead of Slytherin and take the Quidditch Cup.
Their chances were looking good due to their high scoring game, but James was still absolutely incensed that Towler had been allowed to stay on as Seeker after his past complaints about her lackluster record. Sirius tried to remind him that there was only the Ravenclaw game left and then Towler would leave Hogwarts forever and James could take her position, but there was just no talking to Potter when he was in the throes of Quidditch-induced rage.
The following week, between their game and their detention, was perhaps the longest Sirius had experienced since the fiasco that had been his first year. They had expected to serve detention during the day while their fellow students enjoyed Hogsmeade, then sneak down to Hogsmeade at night. However, Professor McGonagall was so overjoyed by their massive victory over Hufflepuff that she’d rewarded them by allowing them to go to Hogsmeade for most of the day and come back to serve their detention that night. She had probably expected them to be ecstatic at the news, but in truth it had thrown a further wrench into their plans.
It was James who decided that the change was a blessing in disguise, as they could use their detention as an alibi if there happened to be any suspicion thrown their way. It was Sirius who was left to get his hands on somebody else’s wands so that they could carry out their plan. James had suggested stealing Snape’s, but Sirius had immediately shot that idea down. It would definitely throw suspicion on the two of them. After that Sirius hadn’t trusted James to do it himself.
And so it was that Sirius found himself wedged into the corner of a booth at Madam Puddifoot’s, between Janice and a ridiculous wall hanging of what he thought was supposed to be a cupid. He let his hand tangle in the curls at the nape of her neck somewhat roughly, tugging on them with something more than gentleness, as he had learned that she liked him to do. She sighed against his mouth, and he took advantage of her parted lips to slide his tongue inside.
He would even have really enjoyed the kiss, if his mind hadn’t been entirely elsewhere.
“Janice, love, I have a big favor to ask you,” he said a few minutes later, after a blushing waitress had interrupted them by rather loudly clattering a plate of cookies onto the table.
She hardly paused in her efforts to find a comfortable resting place leaning back against him. “What is it?”
Sirius swallowed convulsively and stretched his arm out towards the sweets just to give his hand something to do.
“I want to borrow your wand.”
She went still. He couldn’t see her face, only the top of her curly head, so he couldn’t gauge her reaction.
“Why?” she asked eventually, rather more calmly than Sirius probably would have if she (or anybody) had asked to borrow his wand.
James had insisted that honesty was not the best policy in this situation, but Sirius disagreed. Janice was too smart for him to be able to pull the wool over her eyes here, and she would only be upset if he tried to lie to her. Therefore, he explained, “I need to sneak out of detention tonight. McGonagall will likely confiscate my wand, so I need somebody else’s to use magic to complete whatever task she gives me. That way when she comes back she’ll have no reason to think that I wasn’t there cleaning by hand the whole time.”
She pulled away from him and scooted along the bench until she could turn to face him properly. “Why do you need to sneak out?”
“It’s just a prank, love. It’ll be brilliant, because nobody can blame us for it if we were in detention the whole time.” Well, partial honesty was the best policy.
Janice was clearly reluctant to hand over her wand, as any proper witch or wizard would be, but apparently her trust in him ran deep enough that she was willing to do it. About an hour later, he left her in the care of her friends at the bookshop and left with her wand securely in the deep inner pocket of his winter robes. He had told her that he was heading back to the castle to get some homework done before his detention began, but he actually turned sharply into the tight alley between the Owl Post Office and the pastry shop and made his way past the rubbish bins and around the back of the buildings.
Rabastan was waiting for him there, leaning against the grimy wall. Sirius had asked for the meeting in Hogsmeade (because Hogwarts’ walls seemed to have ears), but Rabastan had suggested the location. Sirius was struck by how he looked so in his element there in the shadows, yet also so out of place with his perfectly combed back hair and thousand-Galleon dragon hide overcoat.
“Do you want my wand, too?” he asked without preamble.
Sirius gaped at him. “Wha—how—were you spying on me?”
“Yes,” replied Rabastan at once. Then he took a menacing step forward, and Sirius had to fight the temptation to take a step back. “Why? And don’t give me that shit your little girlfriend bought.”
He hadn’t been planning on hiding the whole truth from Rabastan in the first place, because he’d known that Slytherin Death Eaters—and Lestranges to boot—didn’t go around handing over their wands all willy-nilly for friends to carry out childish pranks. But even if he hadn’t been planning on revealing it all, he probably would have anyway under the intense stare that Rabastan had pinned him with.
“We’re going to sneak back into Hogsmeade and steal some Bicorn blood and a few other things.”
Rabastan looked slightly impressed and even more furious. “You’re going to get yourself expelled! Or worse! Why in the name of Merlin’s saggy nut sack do you need Bicorn blood anyway?”
“Bloody hell, Rabastan. I don’t think the people on the other side of Hogsmeade heard you,” Sirius complained, only half joking. Rabastan’s heated glare quickly confirmed that he was in no mood for jokes, and Sirius rushed to continue. “I can’t tell you why. And yes, I’ve already considered just having Bellatrix or Rodolphus get it for me, but it’s a strictly controlled substance and they’d have to actually provide a good reason for needing it, which they can’t. And you can't come, because you know that would ruin everything with James.”
“You can’t tell me why,” repeated the Slytherin incredulously. “You want me to give you my wand for an illegal operation to steal a Class B controlled substance, but you can’t tell me why.”
Sirius didn’t think it was a good idea to point out that he was really only going to use the wand to cast a few cleaning charms and maybe an unlocking spell or two, and certainly not anything nearly as illegal as the Unforgivables he’d seen Rabastan using within the very walls of Hogwarts mere weeks ago. And that Rabastan had probably actually used on people before.
Instead he said, “I’m sorry, it was stupid. I knew you wouldn’t want—”
But his friend cut him off by closing the distance between them until Sirius was forced to backpedal and found himself stopped by the wall at his back.
“It’s an intimate thing, you know, letting somebody use your wand. Usually only done between close family and lovers. Why would you have thought to come to me?” Sirius was too frozen by the odd, frightening blaze of Rabastan’s eyes to respond, but his friend apparently took his wide-eyed silence as confirmation of something, because he smiled. “Are you going to convince me the same way you convinced the girl?”
“Wha—” began Sirius, but he was quickly cut off again with a loud, “Oomph!”
Rabastan had violently grabbed the front of his robes in one large hand and brought their mouths together in a clash of tongues and teeth. Mostly Rabastan’s tongue and Sirius’s teeth, at least until Sirius found himself responding almost unconsciously to more gracefully accept the invasion. Rabastan’s lips were rougher than Janice’s, but he was considerably less shy with his tongue, and his large, hard frame blocking Sirius in was almost too much for him to process. He had never been particularly dominant with Janice, but he realized now, by comparison, that he was the more dominant party in their physical encounters. He could only submit to Rabastan.
Rabastan released his hold on Sirius’s robes and brought his hand around to the small of Sirius’s back. Sirius brought his own hand up to drag the other boy’s hand away, but for some inexplicable reason he found himself clutching onto Rabastan’s arm instead. Then he felt his friend’s other hand wrap around his own, and he thought for a moment that they were going to hold hands until he felt the polished wood of the Slytherin’s wand pressing into his palm. He clumsily closed his fingers around it as Rabastan pulled his hands and his mouth away all at once.
“Do not get caught with that,” Rabastan demanded harshly, his voice thick. “I will go to Azkaban, or worse, if anybody finds out what that wand has done.”
Sirius, still utterly dumbfounded by what had just happened, was further struck by the utter truth of that statement and the trust the Death Eater had placed in him. He could only nod mutely.
Rabastan released an almost hysterical laugh and ran his hand through his hair, thoroughly messing it up. “Salazar but you make me stupid. So. Fucking. Stupid.”
Sirius could not but agree, but even in his currently befuddled state he knew that offering the other boy’s wand back at this point would be some kind of ultimate insult. He swallowed thickly. “Rab… erm, well… I promise.”
“Be safe,” the other boy whispered as he reached out to squeeze Sirius’s shoulder gently, completely at odds with the violence of their kiss. Then he turned and made his way back down the alley, his polished boots crunching in the snow.
Sirius collapsed backwards against the wall, his head spinning and his heart racing. What in the world was that? he wondered. His thoughts bounced around wildly between memories of Rabastan that had confused him but now made sense, confusion at his own response, worry about how their friendship could possibly go on after this, and maybe—just maybe—renewed curiosity regarding those things he’d read last summer about homosexuals. But none of that mattered now; he couldn’t let it distract him. So he gathered his thoughts, shoved them into the deepest recesses of his mind where even a Legilimens would have a hard time finding them, and started his journey back to Hogwarts.
He knew that he was uncharacteristically quiet that evening, but James seemed to put it down to nervousness about their upcoming adventure, and Peter and Remus to sulkiness about his upcoming detention, and none of them pressed him about it. By the time the three of them finally made their way to Professor McGonagall’s office, he had pulled himself together sufficiently to be getting on with it. He covertly pressed Janice’s wand into James’s hand as they followed Peter out of the portrait hole.
Their Head of House confiscated their wands and separated them, as James and Sirius had counted on her doing; Peter was sent to polish the suits of armor on the fifth floor, James the candelabras in the Charms corridor, and Sirius the various plaques and other awards in the trophy room. Sirius polished by hand for a good half hour before James suddenly appeared out of thin air beside him.
“Bugger that, mate.” He indicated the cloth Sirius was holding in his hand. “She’s gone back to grading essays in her office, and Filch is properly distracted by some dung bombs and fireworks in front of Ravenclaw Tower.”
Sirius pulled Rabastan’s wand out of his innermost pocket and cast the proper charms to carry on his work without him. Rabastan’s wand felt foreign yet somehow right in his hand. It yielded to his commands willingly, though Sirius could feel the underlying tension and a deep, sensuous whirl of Dark magic.
“You got two wands?” asked James incredulously. He had barely expected that Sirius would be able to scrounge up one, and he must have thought that Sirius had given him their only wand since he had the Invisibility Cloak and was meant to make sure that McGonagall and Filch were distracted. “Whose wand is that?”
“Narcissa’s,” answered Sirius, knowing that James would never actually get close enough to the Slytherins to confirm or deny it. “Oh, don’t look at me that way, James. She’s my cousin, and I knew that she’d help without breathing a word to anybody.”
It was true, he realized as soon as he’d said it. Why on earth hadn’t he gone to Narcissa? What had made him think first of asking Rabastan bloody Lestrange to hand over his wand? He quickly shoved those thoughts aside just as firmly as he had all the others.
“Let’s go,” he said, rather more tersely than he’d meant to. James shot him a look but refrained from asking any questions, no doubt because he assumed that it was all about Sirius still being unhappy with this little mission.
They had long since worked out their system for both staying simultaneously covered by James’s Invisibility Cloak. That wasn’t the problem, and neither was navigating the maze of corridors and moving staircases until they reached the outer door nearest the vegetable garden, which they had agreed previously was the least conspicuous route. The problem was trekking over half an hour around the edge of the lake, skirting the Forbidden Forest as much as possible but inevitably having to enter it at some points. The journey was tense and silent, with both of them jumping at the tiniest rustle of leaves or snapping twig. At one point, the giant squid broke the surface of the lake a mere thirty feet from them, and Sirius nearly knocked James down in his surprised panic. But finally, mercifully, they reached the outskirts of Hogsmeade.
They entered the village through the alley that ran beside Madam Puddifoot’s, and from there it was a short way before the side street merged with High Street. They could see the lights of the Three Broomsticks and hear the people inside, but the streets were mercifully almost empty at this time of night. Hopefully the proprietor of the apothecary was having a drink at the pub along with what seemed like most of the village.
They ran into a bit of trouble when a simple Unlocking Charm wouldn’t open the door, but fortunately both Sirius and James, pranksters and all around rabble-rousers that they were, had plenty of previous experience with more complex versions. Eventually they hit upon the correct spell and the door clicked softly. They looked at one another in trepidation, the silvery swirl of the Invisibility Cloak casting a soft glow on both of their faces as it filtered the moonlight. Then James reached for the doorknob, and Sirius knew that there was no going back.
They had both used their last couple of visits to the village to scope out the apothecary, specifically the layout and where the dangerous items were kept. It would have been easier if they had split up, but neither of them was willing to forego the safety of the Cloak. Thus, they shuffled awkwardly side-by-side down the narrow aisles gathering ingredients.
“What are you doing?” hissed James when Sirius picked up several ingredients that they didn’t need. “We should only take what we need. You can come back later and buy that!”
Sirius found it simultaneously annoying and endearing that James’s personal brand of morality allowed for stealing some things but not others, but he was too nervous for a long argument. He hissed back, “If we only take what we need then they’ll know why the ingredients were taken, because they’re only used in combination for one potion. We need to take a few other things to throw them off the trail."
James reluctantly agreed, although it was clear that he wasn’t happy about it. He watched silently as Sirius selected several very expensive items off the shelf. Before they left, James withdrew several Galleons from his pocket.
“What are you doing?” asked Sirius, even though it was pretty obvious that Potter had planned to leave money in the register to cover the cost of the items they’d taken. “Don’t you realize that Galleons are traceable, especially if you took those directly out of your Gringotts vault?”
Honestly, Sirius knew that James had not an ounce of Slytherin in him, but he really was going to have to break his friend of this horrible streak of nobility if they were going to keep doing highly illegal things. Potter scowled and put the money back into his robes.
It wasn’t until they were halfway back up the side street that they heard several pairs of footsteps rushing towards them. Sirius grabbed James’s arm and yanked him towards the nearest alleyway. Seconds later, a group of at least half a dozen witches and wizards rushed by them. There must have been some sort of alarm. They looked like they had indeed come from the Three Broomsticks, or else some other establishment where they’d been drinking heavily. James and Sirius waited for several seconds to make sure there were no stragglers following them, then they reentered the street and rushed as quickly as they dared back towards the other side of town, where they could begin the journey back to Hogwarts.
Then the edge of Sirius’s boot caught a garbage can that had likely been put out for morning collection, and in the otherwise silent night the terrible clatter seemed to be as loud as an explosion. He froze for a second in horror and shock, but then James grabbed his wrist and hissed, “Run!”
He didn’t need to be told twice. They bolted down the street, turning in the wrong direction in their rush. As soon as they were on the outskirts of town, James dragged Sirius determinedly until they were both huddled behind a rocky outcropping, listening to the commotion they’d left in their wake.
They were silent for long minutes, just listening; Sirius couldn’t tell exactly how long. Then James said, “We have to get back soon or McGonagall will know we’ve gone. Then it won’t matter if the villagers are the ones to catch us or she is.”
Sirius agreed with that assessment. They really didn’t have a choice. He sighed in defeat and allowed himself a moment of despair. As soon as he leaned back against the rock behind him, it gave way and he tumbled backwards with a cry, desperately grabbing for purchase. He landed heavily on hard, compact earth, and he blinked a few times in confusion before seeing that James was staring at him with wide eyes through a narrow fissure in the rock some five feet above him. He realized that he had grabbed the Invisibility Cloak during his fall, and he was still clutching it tightly in one hand and Rabastan’s wand in the other.
By the time James had clambered down to join him, Sirius had managed to stand and brush himself off. He wondered why his friend hadn’t offered him a hand up, but when he turned to face James he saw the long passageway that extended further than his friend’s wand light could illuminate.
“Where do you think it goes?” asked James.
Sirius blinked a few times in surprise, as if the sight would alter. Finally he managed to answer, “Away from the mob of angry villagers, hopefully.”
James laughed once. “It can’t be worse than it already is, right?”
“We could end up in the middle of the Forbidden Forest,” Sirius told him. They paused and looked at one another for a few seconds before both seeming to come to a decision at the same time. Sirius let out a breath and took a step towards the unknown. “Well, I’d rather be eaten alive by whatever’s in the forest than eaten alive by McGonagall.”
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The Other Side: Thick and Thin (Book 1)