Chapter Text
The sun was setting by the time Lily Evans woke up.
She’d had a nightmare, though she could only remember fragments of it: an army vanishing into a forest, the sound of a bomb, smoke… eyes, eyes and no life…
“Lily! Wake up! You’ll be late!”
She was sheen with sweat. Lily didn’t remember how long ago she’d fallen asleep, only that the reason for the nap was because she’d been out with Marlene the night before, having to sneak back into her bedroom in the early hours of the morning. It was entirely helpful that she could now legally use magic to get around: she managed to convince Petunia that the crack she must’ve heard from Lily’s bedroom was just a floorboard creaking, and not Marlene Apparating in and out of the house. Her mother was standing in the hall: they’d been tense ever since Lily admitted that all exams were cancelled last year because of the incidents, and both of her parents had been hell bent on making her stay inside to study, though there was quite literally nothing to do. Lily rubbed her forehead as her mother said, “do you know what day it is?”
Lily checked her calendar: “the 28th,” she mumbled, “why… oh, the 28th.”
Earlier that month, Lily had received a ticket to London’s production of Swan Lake at Theatre Royal by James Potter. They’d agreed to a date if James had helped her figure out who was tampering with Hogwarts’s Cursed Vaults, and he did, at a great cost. Now, she would have to spend the night with him in the theatre, though she had no idea how he knew about her love for dance. Perhaps it was just by chance, and all he wanted to do was show off his riches, as he certainly did so when lending Jeremy Plackett 500 Galleons so that he could set up a life for himself and his girlfriend, Isadora Tuft.
Lily leapt into the shower and back out again, brushing her hair furiously and drying it with her wand. When she returned to her bedroom, she found that a cream-coloured dress had been lain out on her mattress, with a pair of heels. Lily had no trouble fitting into it, realising this belonged to Petunia at some stage. The skirt bounced with each of her movements, and Lily raced around the room to pack her things (a purse with her wand, money and her ticket), dabbing powder on the dark spots beneath her eyes and brushing mascara through her lashes. She had just finished pinning her hair back from her face when she heard someone pull into the driveway below. She had no idea James could drive - especially when she was still yet to take her test - but didn’t question it as she raced down the stairs: Petunia was in the living room reading, the ring on her finger sparkling in the lamplight. She’d gotten engaged last week to Vernon Dursley, a stout man years older than Petunia herself, though she insisted they were the happiest couple to ever be. Of course, it had been the night Lily decided to go out with Mary, as Petunia always orchestrated these sorts of events when Lily wasn’t around. Couldn’t have Vernon scared away by a witch, could she?
“Where are you going?” Petunia demanded.
“Out,” Lily replied.
Petunia leapt to her feet. “That’s my dress.”
Lily spun around. “Does it still fit you?”
At this, Petunia had nothing to say. Lily feigned a smile. “Well, then it’s mine, now.”
She called out to her parents and stepped into the night.
There was a small car in her driveway: however, when Lily squinted, she realised it was not only one person in the vehicle, but three, and none of them were James Potter. Instead, Remus Lupin was behind the wheel, Sirius Black had leapt out of the passenger's seat to escort her down, and Peter waved frantically from the backseat, all while she could hear David Bowie blast through the radio.
“A fine evening for it, Evans!” Sirius said as he approached, dressed in a Muggle suit. Lily just stared. “Where’s Potter?”
“He’s… unavailable,” Sirius’s grey eyes flickered for a brief moment. “He sends his apologies.”
Lily felt simultaneous joy and disappointment: there had been a part of her wanting to spend the night with him, but the majority had been against it. While she was excited to see Remus, she didn’t know how she felt about being with the others for the night, especially Sirius. She walked with him to the car, where he leapt forward and opened the door to let her in. “Nice,” she ran her hand along the red paint, “who’d you nick this from?”
“The sleazy guy that runs the dealership in central,” Sirius replied casually. “Lord knows I don’t need another motorbike.”
She assumed that mindset wouldn't last long, when he'd actually figured out how to bewitch the vehicle properly. Lily jumped into the front seat, saying a quiet hello to Remus over Peter screaming, “Rebel rebel, they’ve torn your dress!” along with the song on the radio.
“D’you know he’s playing here next year?” asked Remus loudly.
Lily did not know that: of course, it should’ve been obvious in the way Sirius sat forward in his seat, grin stretching right over his angular face. “And, guess who got tickets.”
“How much?”
“Free,” Sirius waved his wand with a laugh, “at the expense of a Confunding charm.”
“Of course,” Lily mumbled, crossing her arms and facing the front. Remus very carefully pulled out of the driveway as if he’d never touched a car in his life, and sped off down the street. The wind began to pull out Lily’s hair, so she did half the job: her long red locks now blew freely behind her as she turned to Remus. “Have you ever driven before?”
Remus laughed nervously. “I mean, it seems pretty straight forward…”
Lily realised he had not, in fact, touched a car in his life, making everything ten times more frightening. On the whole, Remus did rather well, except for the one instance he slammed on the brake for a cat wandering across the road. It sent Peter – who did not have his seatbelt on – straight into the back of Remus, and Lily almost through the windshield. The cat sat, blinked, and continued on its merry way.
“Bloody hell, Moony,” Sirius said, clinging onto the seat behind him. The car behind them sounded their horn.
Remus slowly began to drive again, this time with agonising caution: Lily swore that the line of cars outside the Theatre Royal was because of the amount of traffic he held up on the way. Finally, he swerved into an empty space down the street and leapt over the door, running around to let Lily out. She thanked him and took the hand he leant to her, stepping out onto the crowded path. Men and women all filed in to the building, dressed smart for the occasion: the Marauders, aside from Sirius, were severely underdressed: Remus wore a leather jacket and jeans over a black shirt that expertly covered the scars up his arms, though the lines over his face still drew attention to him as he looked around. Peter was in ridiculous-looking wizard robes that he must have tried to cut from the shoulders to make it more mundane-looking, but in truth, it made him look like a purple balloon. Sirius held out his hand to her. “Shall we?”
“You couldn’t have given Peter something else to change into?” Lily asked softly as they made their way to the doors, tickets at the ready. All four of them got in perfectly fine, the worst being a few weird looks directed at Peter. “He wouldn’t fit them,” Sirius said flippantly. “And it’ll give us a good laugh.”
Lily disagreed, but bit down on that thought as they walked through the crowded theatre: it was extravagant, one of the most beautiful architectural spaces in the whole city – the opera house itself held more than 2 thousand people under a large domed roof lined with shining lights and patterns carved into balconies and walls. The red curtains on the stage were drawn to conceal the set of the ballet behind it, Lily could hear the soft sounds of the orchestra in the pit warming up, the scent of leather and perfume and old wood drawing her back to some of her earliest memories… her tiny hand at the bar, feet straining to point… the piano soft, lifting her arms and taking her away… far, far away…
“Prongs knew how to sort out business,” Sirius whistled as all four of them sat 7 rows from the front. “How he managed to suck this out of Elijah, I have no idea.”
“I’d wager Celestina has privileges with these sorts of things,” Remus sat rigidly in his seat next to Lily. “you know, being a witch and a celebrity.”
“Besides, our kind stick our noses in everywhere,” Lily mumbled the words Petunia had said to her upon leaving for her first year at Hogwarts: the thought of her now, to be married by the year’s end, was daunting and relieving at the same time. Peter picked at a stray thread hanging from his robe, narrowing his eyes at an elderly couple that sidled past them to get to their seats. They gave him very judgemental looks as they passed.
“Go on then, you old codger,” Peter snapped, “have a crack, see where that lands you-!”
“Peter, stop it,” Remus hissed and waved apologetically to them, who now hurried up on their endeavour to find their places. Sirius had hid his face behind his hand and was shaking with silent laughter. Peter slouched back in his chair with a scowl, and Lily pretended not to be associated at all with them, glancing towards the empty seat by her side. She wondered if someone would come to sit in it, but her query was left unanswered when the overture for the ballet began to play, and the people around her began to applaud. The lights dimmed, the feeling of excitement rose within her as Lily settled back and watched the curtains part and fly back into the wings.
She had always dreamed of seeing this ballet, and it was everything she could’ve imagined: beautiful dancers in white, their faces contorting between pain, sorrow and raw emotion, conveying the tragic story in a way words could not. The strength in which they performed, the art made through their moving limbs, the extra reach through the tips of their fingers as they felt the dance they immersed themselves in. The sound of the orchestra resplendent in the large hall, the applause after each act, all of it: she was entranced. Lily found herself utterly transfixed on Odette, as the ballerina moved like water across the stage, each angle of her body precise and cohesive concurrently. Before wands and witches, this was what magic looked like to Lily. This was what life was supposed to be.
She barely noticed Remus had turned his head to watch her, and when she looked to him, she knew he understood how much dance had once meant to her, how much it still did: she couldn’t ever be up on that stage, but it brought her so much joy to see others pursue the craft she once devoted her life to.
The scene ended, and Lily felt someone sit down on her opposite. They were a great deal late to the performance, but it didn’t look like they had disturbed anyone on their way to their seat. Lily paid no mind and continued to watch the ballet: six princesses were being presented to the prince at a costume ball, each one as beautiful as a dancer than the last. It was that fact that made Lily utterly enthralled with the stage, that she did not see the figure beside her take out their wand.
Stand.
She did, to the surprise of Remus. Lily offered no explanation as she stood and watched, ignoring the whispers of the aggravated people behind her. Follow.
Her gaze snapped to the figure before her, who was already vanishing down the row. She followed with a smile, stepping out of the seats and walking up towards the door. The man standing before it stepped to the side with glazed eyes, letting the two of them out.
She was in a haze of her own world: Lily was still thinking about the beautiful ballerina’s as she walked, the figure in black keeping in even step beside her. Smile.
Lily was already doing that: a lady walked past with a frown, but did not mention anything as Lily nodded her head towards her with a giggle. “Good evening.”
Don’t talk.
Her mouth closed.
She was lead through a door: the bathroom. Lily was singing along with the directions in her mind, finding her reflection in the mirror: her hair was smooth down her shoulders, her dress a bit too tight around her waist, and her eyes… they were green, but there was something else there… like they were glazed over in a sheen layer of water, or… magic.
Tell me your name.
“Lily Jane Evans.”
Where are the headquarters for the Order?
Lily shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Who are the members?
Lily slowly looked to the mirror again, sensing something wrong…
Crack. She was struck to the floor by a hand, and it was then that she realised what was happening: the figure stood over her and removed the mask covering half of his head. Lily felt like throwing up when she found the face beneath recognisable.
“Nice seeing you again, Evans,” Mulciber smiled wickedly. Slowly, Lily’s gaze travelled down to his wrist, where she could see the beginnings of black ink sticking out from beneath his robes…
Tell me who the members are… go on...
I… D… Dor… I’m not telling you.
The hold over her grew stronger, but Lily fought back at it with all her might: a second hand struck her to the floor, making her cry out: pain throbbed in both temples, Lily swore something in her nose was broken… Mulciber then wrenched her to her feet by her chin, a fistful of her hair in his other hand. “You little bitch,” he sneered as Lily desperately tried to fight her way out of his grip, tears streaming from her eyes. He looked amused at her attempts, like a cat holding a mouse by its tail, delighted in watching it trying to escape. “Mary didn’t fight back as hard as you.”
Lily felt bile threaten to rise from her stomach: in fifth year, Mulciber had attacked Mary with the same Unforgiveable curse, leaving her in a far worse state than Lily was. He’d gotten away with it, too: Dumbledore decided that it wasn’t wise to draw attention to ‘minor things’ happening at the school for the fear of an uprising. Mary didn’t ever talk about it, but Lily saw it still affected her, sometimes: with Brock, her boyfriend, she’d sometimes flinch if he surprised her with a hug, or kissed her spontaneously.
“No matter,” Mulciber’s smile was yellow, “you’re far prettier than her. Maybe I’ll take that lovely Mudblood head of yours back to the Dark Lord on a silver platter, I’m sure Severus would appreciate that-”
Lily had gotten her wand between them, forgetting it was on her person until that point: his weight was sent back by her knockback jinx, but her mind was still fighting his attempts to curse her. It made her work sloppy as she fought him off in that bathroom, ducking into a cubicle just as he sent an exploding jinx straight into the wall, the sound of it making Lily’s ears ring. She was inhaling dust, somewhere, a sink pipe had ruptured and was spraying water onto the floor, and Lily was shooting blind hexes into the abyss. She heard magic against skin, and an ‘oomph!’ before the curses began to stop returning; Lily was sure one of them had hit, and took her chance to escape.
Mulciber was a Death Eater. Mulciber was a Death Eater, so what did that mean for the school? She tried not to slip on the wet floor as she scrambled out of the bathroom, coughing up blood and dust as she went. Her immediate thought went to Severus, and her heart fell: Had he joined, too…?
She had just opened the door when two strong arms locked around her waist and threw her back, her head hitting the tiles with a sickening crunch. Lily had lost all sense of direction, stability… the next thing she knew, she was against the wall, a hand at her throat and a pair of horrible eyes staring straight into hers. “I think Slughorn will be devastated to hear his favourite student won’t return for her final year. And I think Potter will be despondent upon realising his pretty prize was claimed for someone else,” Mulciber had blood running from his head and nose, but his eyes were locked on hers with a pure evil Lily couldn't ever unsee. When one of his free hands began to caress her face and run down her side, she screamed and tried to thrash her way to freedom, to no avail. Mulciber snickered. "Nice try. And it’s a shame your magic,” he wrenched the wand from her hand and tossed it away, “can’t help you against brawn.”
“N-no!” Lily choked, but the hand around her neck closed painfully around her airway. Mulciber was laughing right in her face as she continued to fight against him. “You’re pathetic, Mudblood. The only thing of good use, I suppose, are those perfect lips…”
“Good evening.”
The third voice caught them both off guard. Lily had no space to turn her head, but saw that Mulciber’s face was completely wiped of triumph. His grip loosened on her neck, and Lily snapped her head sideways: James Potter was leaning against the wall next to her, dressed in all black and twirling his wand in his hand. Immediately, Mulciber raised his own, but in mere moments, he was disarmed.
“Oh no,” James caught it and walked towards him, “you won’t be needing that. Anyway, what were you saying about brawn?”
His question was humorous, but his face was not: Mulciber was far bigger than him, that much was obvious, but James was driven by pure fury and rage, and had no intention of leaving Mulciber alive if he could help it.
It seemed that Mulciber was just talk and no game: he swung sloppily at James, who leapt back with killer instincts, sending his fist straight into his jaw with the precision of an asp. Lily watched, horrified and fascinated, as James slammed him into the porcelain sinks by the back of his head – likely with years of practicing with Severus – and then swung him by the back of the shirt into the cubicle, right in the line of a broken bar. Mulciber’s head hit it hard, and he collapsed with a groan. James had no other injury aside from a cut across his knuckle, and he kicked the Death Eater hard in the ribs with his booted foot. “Can’t pick on someone your own size, can you, you great troll?”
Mulciber staggered to his feet and lunged back at him, but James took the defensive and stepped to the side, pushing his glasses back onto his nose with a lethal expression. Instead, he waited for Mulciber to recover and face him before planting a deadly fist right in his throat, showing him just how strong James Potter could be, when he chose to.
Lily covered her eyes and looked away, heart threatening to burst right out of her chest. It wasn’t until she felt gentle hands on her own, and a voice, a voice that was no longer cold or cutting. “Bloody hell, Evans,” James was whispering, “I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry…”
Lily could barely hear him or register what he was saying over the throbbing in her head. Then, the door burst open, and both of them expected trouble: wandless, Lily could do nothing but throw up her fists in defence while someone rushed into the destroyed bathroom.
Through the smoke and dust, she could only make out a taller woman with hair that just reached her ears, though her face was far more warm and recognisable: Alice Drewmore walked right up to her with her wand pointed in her face. “You put up a good fight, Potter.”
“Evans here did half of it,” James said as Lily felt the pain in her head subside: she could now see and think clearly, and took that opportunity to study James after their month apart. He hadn’t changed much, aside for his hair being far messier than usual, and his face spotted with freckles from the sun. Alice then had her by the face, studying for any more damage. “Can you see me alright? You suffered a nasty head injury.”
“I’m fine,” Lily mumbled as an explosion sounded somewhere else in the theatre, and screams: her heart dropped to the pits of her stomach. “What’s going on?”
“Thought you’d have figured that out for yourself,” James answered.
Alice glared at him. “Death Eaters,” she said simply, “and lots of them. The Order’s already got the building surrounded.”
“Good thing I decided to show up for a late surprise,” James said while Alice led her out of the bathroom, leaving Mulciber’s unconscious body within. People everywhere were running by, clutching their purses to their chests and screaming as the crowds evacuated the theatre. Lily glanced up at him. “Where were you?”
“Dinner with Nonna,” he replied with a wince, accidentally shouldering a frantic-looking man that ran past them, “couldn’t have postponed. Crazy lady, that one… would’ve ripped me to shreds if I even brought it up.”
A part of Lily didn’t feel as if she believed him, but she did not question: instead, she saw that they were approaching a group of people standing in the hall. She realised it was Remus, Sirius, Peter and Fabian Prewett – he turned around and exhaled upon acknowledging their arrival. “Good, you’re alright. Anything on Meadowes?”
“She’s fine,” said Alice. “Frank?”
“Right here,” said a man behind them. Alice ran towards Frank Longbottom and kissed him briefly in front of the crowd. Sirius embraced James with relieved eyes. “Couldn’t have showed up earlier?”
“Duty called,” James said grimly, referring to his mandatory dinner with his grandmother.
Lily looked around, at the fleeing people, innocent people… “why here? Why would the Death Eater’s choose this place?”
“They don’t choose, Voldemort does,” Sirius replied, grey eyes vigilant, “and Lord knows that bastard doesn’t need to justify his atrocities. I reckon it’s just because he can.”
Frank’s eyes widened. “Watch it!”
Bolts of light shot their way: James had gotten her wand back to her as 6 Death Eaters fought through the crowd towards them, none of them recognisable under their masks. Even though Lily was back in the right headspace, she understood that she was about to face off a bunch of Death Eaters, who would not so much as hesitate to kill her. But apparently, she did not need to worry, because Fabian had clamped a hand on her shoulder and threw her behind him. “Go, get out of here! All of you!”
Sirius looked enraged as he threw the first spell towards the Death Eaters: the one on the far left blocked it with ease. “Like hell! I want to fight!”
“You can fight when you don’t have an education to worry about,” Frank shoved Peter out of the way of a green bolt of light, “now go! We’ll hold up perfectly fine without you!”
Lily felt her hand being tugged by Remus, and the four of them began to run: Lily looked behind her, but James had disappeared. The cry of desperation clawed its way up to her throat. “James!”
“He’s fine,” Sirius said coldly, shoving past a woman with a toddler, “We’ll meet him somewhere safe, I’m sure. Let’s go!”
The ominous feeling clung to every bit of Lily’s body as she ran with great difficulty in her heels: she felt it accidentally dig into something soft, and when Lily looked down, she realised that the old woman she’d seen before was now lying in a pool of her own blood, staring up at the ceiling. Lily had to hold her hand to her mouth to stop herself from throwing up, the image of Death burnt permanently into her brain.
“Here!” Remus kicked down a staff only door, and realised they were in a kitchen. And there, kneeling on the floor with his hands held behind his back, was Sturgis Podmore, screaming as a second Death Eater used the Cruciatus Curse on him.
Lily didn’t know what she was thinking; perhaps she wasn’t thinking at all, but she shoved forward and yelled, “Ventus!”
Both of the Death Eaters were caught off guard: the sudden, powerful cyclone of wind would’ve blown Podmore away too, had he not held onto the leg of the bench beside him. Sirius was already lunging forward towards the Death Eater that had performed the curse, wand raised. “Expelliarmus!”
The wand flew out of the Death Eaters hand, and he moved to fight back… wait… what was he doing?
As Sirius approached, it looked as if the Death Eater was trying to remove his mask, and Lily then realised that was exactly what they were doing: and then, the skull flew off, revealed the living, breathing human behind it. Sirius halted suddenly, frozen in place and overcome with shock. Lily ordered Peter to help Sturgis and went to see who it was, hoping that it wasn’t a boy with black eyes and hair…
“I should’ve known,” said Sirius, now walking slowly and purposefully like a predator towards Lucius Malfoy, who was holding his hand out to him with a pale face. “Sirius… s-stop, let me… please-”
“Keep going,” Sirius was a whole different person, every movement driven by loathing, “I like it when pathetic worms like you beg.”
“W-we’re family!” Lucius sputtered. Sirius laughed at that. “Please, the entire pureblood race of wizards are.”
“Sirius,” Remus started.
He went ignored. Sirius was closing on Lucius, who was slowly getting to his feet. “You’re an honourable man,” he began, “so, let’s settle it as such.”
“Sirius,” Remus now snapped. Lily was still watching Sirius, who clutched Lucius’s wand menacingly, threatening to break it with one hand. “Bold of you to assume you have any ounce of honour,” he said.
“Remember who you’re talking to,” Lucius sneered. “You’re threatening the life of a very well-connected Death Eater.”
Sirius raised his dark eyebrows. “Oh, I know quite well who I’m talking to. I’m talking to the boy who wet himself before the Dark Lord while he branded you… very chivalrous…”
Lucius was white aside from the sudden flush in his cheeks. “How do you know about that?!”
Lily turned and saw that Remus had the second Death Eater by the collar, and was dragging him like dead weight towards Sirius. “Oi!”
“I’m Sirius Black,” he sneered with a charming smile. “I am the network.”
“SIRIUS!” Remus bellowed and threw the Death Eater at his feet. The skull mask fell from his face, the hood from his head. Finally, Sirius turned, though when he cast his eyes down, they crystalised like cold, grey ice, suddenly frozen in a pocket of time fabricated by the impact of shock. Lily did the same when she saw a crop of black curly hair, two skinny arms beneath black robes, and a pair of forest green eyes turned towards her. It took Regulus Black three seconds to realise he was completely surrounded by the enemy, one of them being his own blood.
***
Sirius knew for a fact Regulus had become a Death Eater, as he had known for some time: but to accept that fact – which he had not yet done – was another phenomenon entirely.
It felt like a dream to see him, though it had only been weeks since: the weight of his occupation had refined the angles of his face, he’d lost a great deal of weight since Sirius walked out of Grimmauld Place close to a year ago… and he’d grown. Regulus was nearly as tall as him, which hadn’t ever seemed like a possibility before, given their history... He was supposed to stay young and innocent forever. Regulus wasn’t meant to grow up, especially not to take Sirius's place. Sirius was supposed to endure the grievances of age instead of the little brother he’d once sworn he’d protect, and here Regulus was, already worn down, already someone he couldn’t save.
The force of Lucius barrelling into him knocked the breath out of his lungs: he heard Lily scream and Remus curse, and Sirius hit his head hard on the floor, unable to breathe under Lucius as they rolled. It took him a moment too long to register what was happening, and once he did, he threw himself into action: Sirius might’ve been years younger than Lucius, but he was certainly stronger. With ease, he got on top of Lucius with his hands pinned painfully under his knees, finally getting a good look at him. He was frightened: Lucius Malfoy, an adult, was quaking underneath him, pale eyes wide and covered in what Sirius knew what raw fear.
Then, it came over him: a shroud of some feeling, a comfortable, powerful one. He’d only felt it so often, like his mind had unlocked a dark, forgotten fragment of his soul, one that held power. Like the dog within him sensing his prey was helpless, Sirius felt a very ravenous feeling rumble in the depths of his essence, one that revelled in overpowering people as weak as Lucius. He was worthless, as was everyone on that side of the war. Sirius dug his knees further into Lucius’s hands purely to watch him in pain, and he smiled. This was what he wanted, this is what he had craved ever since he could learn to understand the anomaly of his own mind. Lucius might’ve been a Death Eater, but it was Sirius who was hungry for it, and in a position to satiate that raging desire.
He raised his fist without hesitation, striking once… twice… he did not listen to the screams, did not even think to stop, his only intention to break through bone and leave the man a bloody pulp on this kitchen floor. Lucius had given up on screaming, on consciousness, he just lay like a dead weight beneath him, accepting his fate. Yes, something within Sirius sneered, you wanted to eat Death? Let’s see just how much you can swallow without choking…
“Narcissa’s pregnant!”
His blood turned to ice. The shroud that clouded his vision was ripped away, he could hear everything around him once again. He didn’t know what it was, but already, he missed the feeling of it, of the power that drove his fist repeatedly into the face of someone he loathed with his entire being. But it wasn’t Lucius who had proclaimed that horrible fact: it was Regulus, who had not raised his wand to harm him. He instead had his hands thrown in the air, chin raised by Lily’s wand beneath it. Lucius was grunting in pain, blood already spurting from his mouth, dribbling from his crooked nose; Sirius slowly turned around, heart beginning to beat faster and faster. “She’s…?”
“She’s been along for three months,” Regulus said hurriedly, chest heaving. Sirius narrowed his eyes at Regulus. “I don’t believe you.”
“Fine,” Regulus snapped, “don’t, then. But when word comes back to you that she lost the child while grieving the murder of her husband, expect a warm visit from Bellatrix.”
“I’ll leave the door open for her,” said Sirius, and turned back towards Lucius to finish the job. And he would’ve, too, if it weren’t for the spell that knocked him right off Lucius’s body.
There were explosions, shouting: and when Sirius recovered, damn it, the two of them had vanished. Remus was sprawled on the floor, Peter over him, making Sirius stop and his throat close up: Sturgis Podmore was near Peter and clutching a cut on his arm, Lily was slumped near the far wall, dress singed by fire. And yet, Sirius couldn’t help but wander over to Remus, half paralysed by shock and hoping to Merlin he was alive.
“He’s fine, Padfoot,” Peter cried, a hand at Remus’s neck as if to stop something from bleeding. No, Sirius thought, he needed to check for himself.
He heard a small sound from where Lily was: Sirius abandoned his worry for Remus and rushed to her – James would slaughter him if he didn’t – and checked her eyes and breathing. She was awake, a bit dazed, but alive…
“I’m sorry,” she coughed, “he…”
“It’s fine,” Sirius ground out, even when it wasn’t: Lily was not at fault, the anger wasn’t because of her… it was because Sirius had again, hesitated to spare his brother. The brother that did not regard him as such in return.
“Peter!” Sirius had picked Lily up from under the arm, slinging it around his shoulders. Peter had his wand out, desperately trying to concentrate, but he was growing impatient: Sirius shoved him aside and snapped, “take care of Lily,” and knelt over his unconscious friend, eyes widening.
There was glass: in his hair, around his body… but none of it was as bad as the large shard wedged deep within Remus’s neck, seeping blood onto the floor. “Bloody hell,” Sirius cursed, his hands shaking as he searched for his wand. “Bloody hell, no… no…”
“Oh my god,” Lily breathed, pushing away from Peter and falling to her knees at Remus’s head. All of their hands were bloodstained – some of others, most was of their own – searching desperately for things to stop the bleeding. Remus’s face was pallid and grey, the lines over his nose smooth, and his eyes shut as if he were sleeping…
“He’s going to die,” Sirius breathed, eyes swimming with tears. “Lily, he’s going to bloody die! Do something-”
“Stop it,” Lily snapped, but she too, wiped the tears from his face. Sirius did not take his hands from Remus’s neck until Lily’s were there, and she had her wand in her other hand, trembling slightly. “We’re in a kitchen, it’s a high-risk area. Get up, look for a first aid kit.”
“And if I can’t find one?”
“Garlic, honey, alcohol,” Lily ordered, light glowing from the tip of her wand. Sturgis tried to get to his feet, but Lily’s hand kept him down. “No, you stay. You’re injured.”
Sirius obeyed, clearing shelves and rummaging through tables and food to find what she needed: Lily was brilliant, the best of their year. She’d be able to do something, he knew she would. He found garlic in a jar, honey on a shelf, and a bottle of clear liquor within five minutes. By the time he returned, he found that Lily had extracted the glass from his neck, and it was now wobbling in the air, glowing a bright orange colour. Sirius didn’t know what to think of it, only that he was thankful she had more brain than he did.
She looked up at him with exhausted eyes. “Good. Give it here.”
“How…?” Sirius breathed, watching as Lily flicked her wand, and the glass vanished in mid-air. Peter looked awestruck. “She melted it,” he said, “and… morphed it-”
“Alchemy comes in handy more than I thought it would,” Lily murmured, snatching the bottle from Sirius and tearing a bit of cloth from her dress. Sirius examined the wound: the skin had been burnt, and the bleeding had stopped completely. She poured some of the alcohol onto the cloth and then pressed it to Remus’s neck. He did not so much as move his head in response.
“He’s breathing,” Lily said softly, and Sirius took the bottle back and brought it to his lips, feeling it coat burn his throat as he drank. Lily looked at him, glared, then got back to work, knitting her eyebrows together in concentration. Sirius didn’t know how to help otherwise until she gave him something to do, so he watched hazily as Lily brought his hand to the cloth at Remus’s neck, barely registering his own pale fingers pressed against the bloody fabric. “Stay there. I’ll be back,” Lily slowly got to her feet. “Peter, watch the door!”
Instead, he hid under a table, sticking his wand out and praying that no one found them.
Sturgis has his blonde head rested against the back of the bench, heaving. “We need to get help,” he breathed raggedly.
“Help will come,” Sirius said, but wasn’t sure if he believed it himself. He looked at Remus, wondering just how much longer he would stay unconscious, and wishing nothing more for him to open his eyes, to look at Sirius with life in them.
Lily came back with an odd-looking stick and a bowl, hurriedly setting it down in front of her and throwing the garlic in. Perplexed, Sirius watched her make her concoction. “Mary taught me this,” Lily explained, wiping sweat and blood from her forehead, “it’s Muggle medicine. Sturgis, give me your arm.”
The man obeyed, and Lily used another piece of her dress to pour the liquor onto. “This will sting,” she warned.
Sturgis’s breath came out like a kettle hissing while Lily wiped the dirt from the cut. She then tenderly dipped her finger into the paste she’d made, wiping it over the wound.
“Why not just use magic?” asked Sirius, eyes still on Remus.
“I don’t think I can,” Lily exhaled shakily. Sirius opened his mouth to argue, but she got in first. “I’m not Mary, Sirius,” she said hopelessly. “I already risked it with getting the glass out of Remus’s neck. One mistake, and it’ll do more worse than good. So, I’ll stick with what I know: Muggle remedies.”
She tore off more of her dress and wrapped the strip of fabric securely around Sturgis’s arm. “Good. Are you fine to walk?”
“A bit shaken,” Sturgis was careful not to put his hand in glass when he got up, “but nothing I can’t manage.”
“Find the rest of the Order,” Lily pleaded, wiping the paste over Remus’s neck. “We can’t get him out of here like this.”
“I’ll Apparate,” Sirius offered.
“No way,” Lily put up her hand as Sturgis armed himself with his wand and left the kitchen. “One of us will get splinched, I’m sure of it.”
There were voices. Sounds of spells outside the door. Peter whimpered and shuffled further under the table as Sirius checked down the opposite side of the room: there were no doors he could see. Lily seemed to hear it, too, as she had stopped tearing another bit of skirt from her and froze, jaw slack. The tone of urgency in Sirius’s voice was prominent. “I don’t think we have much of a choice!”
Lily bit her lip, contemplating all the things that could go wrong, before rolling her shoulders back with a shake of her head. “Fine. Take Peter with you; you’ll need someone to stay with him.”
“And leave you here?” Sirius asked incredulously, already gathering Remus’s limp body to his own. He was alarmingly cold. Lily had been so shaken up from last year that she'd barely gotten any Apparition practice to take her test: Sirius felt pity for he, watching as she wiped blood from her hands onto her dress, nodding her head. “It’ll only be for a moment. It’s the safest chance we have.”
The noise was getting closer, and upon hearing the news that they’d be Apparating, Peter threw himself onto Sirius with a quivering bottom lip. Lily used the table to get to her feet, crying, “go! I’ll manage just fine!”
So Sirius closed his eyes, felt himself sucked into the Apparition state, and heard all the hectic noise of the kitchen vanish like he’d just dunked his head underwater. Sirius didn’t know where to go, and decided against going back to the Potter’s house: he instead concentrated hard on a house on the outskirts of the city, shrouded by trees and smelling of the array of flowers planted around paths and under windows, a house he’d visited often in the recent months…
They landed painfully on grass, and Sirius clung to both Peter and Remus, checking that nothing had been splinched. “I’m fine,” Peter said shakily, and then studying Remus, “so is he.”
“Good,” he said, watching as a light at the top of the stairs flickered on, then another. And soon, Mrs. MacDonald was hanging out of a window in her nightclothes, squinting into the night. “I’ll be damned,” she squawked, “is that you, Sirius?”
“Help us,” Sirius gasped, and with the help of Peter, carried Remus to the front door just as Mrs. MacDonald threw it open. Standing behind her was Mary, her hair flowing down her back in tight black coils, hands thrown over her mouth. “Get him inside,” she said as she took in the rest of them. Mrs. MacDonald threw herself to the side to let them through, and Sirius watched as Mary went ahead and cleared the dining room table, patting the wood urgently. “Right here. Dad!”
Someone hurried down the stairs. Mr. MacDonald had a Muggle newspaper in hand and a horrified look over his face. “Christ, what happened to you lot?”
“Save the questions for later, Terry,” said Mrs. MacDonald, bustling around the table and snatching some jars off the wall. Mary looked up at her father. “Get me my wand, please.”
He no longer asked questions: Sirius assumed the pair knew all about the Wizarding War going on, and guessed Sirius's unexpected visit was because of it. Mr. MacDonald vanished back up to the second floor as Mary tipped Remus’s head to the side, assessing the wound. “Lily did this, didn’t she?”
Lily. Sirius had forgotten in his concern, and burst right back into the night, concentrating on the kitchen they were in: his body was drawn back into the morphing state of Apparition, and he appeared back in London with a crack.
The scene was just the same, except for one thing: Lily was locked in combat with a Death Eater Sirius realised was Regulus, coming back to finish the job. Sirius wasted no time in pointing his wand. “Confringo!”
The explosion blew up the wall next to him, and Regulus disappeared in the fire. Lily was unhurt, and must have been winning before Sirius returned, as she looked far stronger than she had been before. Sirius held his breath as he charged through smoke to find his brother, and got a glimpse of black vanishing around the door. Through his body coursed pure rage and a festering need for revenge, and so, Sirius followed.
Regulus was not a fast runner when he was weak, and the halls were now littered with bodies and obstacles: Sirius cast spell after spell, but Regulus dodged all of them, not even bothering to look back and fight.
“Regulus!” Sirius roared, and the boy turned the corner. He followed right after him, being caught off guard by the bolt of light heading straight for his head. He rolled out of its way as it exploded behind him, shaking the ground. When he recovered, he saw Regulus’s face and understood why he hadn’t turned back: in his eyes, Sirius saw the ten-year-old boy standing in the doorway, his hair closely cropped to his head, dresses burning in the fire... he was watching as Sirius was thrown into a room of darkness for weeks on end. It was that very same, childish fear in his eyes that made Sirius realise that after all this time, after everything Regulus had done, he was afraid of his older brother more than he was afraid of death.
Coward, Sirius thought, still on his feet and charging right towards him. Regulus started off again, stumbling over debris and bodies alike as he fled. “What’s the matter, Reggie?” Sirius taunted on the brink of tears, “can’t face your old brother without mummy holding your hand?”
“Avada Kedavra!” Regulus screamed, but it was weak: it missed Sirius by a long shot, doing nothing to dissuade his pursuit of vengeance. “You want to play with the big-boy spells?” Sirius laughed, knuckles white around his wand, finding nothing but disgust in the way Regulus tripped and scrambled for exits, to which he found none. He was cornered, and Sirius was triumphant. “Come on, try again: I’ll show you how it’s done!”
“You won’t do anything,” Regulus spat.
Sirius saw nothing but red. “I’ll be the judge of that. CRUCIO!”
Regulus dropped his wand as his body halted in place, twitching with pain. It was less than a second, but for Sirius, it was the worse second of his life. Regulus did not scream, but the look in his eyes – those eyes – was full of anguish. Sirius lifted the curse immediately, the beginnings of deep regret already eating away at his soul as Regulus collapsed to the floor. If he wanted to, Sirius could now kick him, he was that close: instead, he just stood, unable to take a step further or away. Regulus did not rise, and instead, curled into a ball with his eyes squeezed shut, like he used to do when he was a child, blocking out the screaming from downstairs. And Sirius – he remembered – would clamber into his bed and do whatever it took to put him back to sleep. The Black lullaby now rested on the top of his tongue, waiting for Sirius to open his mouth. He kept it firmly shut.
“Sirius,” Regulus gasped. “Y-you… you’re a coward.”
Sirius couldn’t believe his ears. He laughed hard. “I’m a coward? Spoken from the one running from a fight, like the weakling I always thought you were. If I’m a coward, then d’you know what that makes you? A waste of space, Regulus Black. You will never be anything more than nothing.”
“You left,” Regulus planted his hand into the ground and had begun to rise, “you left me, Sirius!”
And for a moment, he was seven years old, clinging onto a young girl that wailed in the middle of the night, crying about a nightmare she had. You left me!
“I have to be more than nothing,” Regulus spat blood onto the floor as sirens sounded somewhere in the street. “Because you were everything. And now, you’re gone, because you have it soft for Mudbloods!”
Sirius’s hand clenched, but he did not hit Regulus. Instead, he waited until he spoke again. “Mother hasn’t touched your room,” said Regulus, as if it pained him to say so. “She waits by the window, sometimes. Seeing if you had found sense and decided to return.”
“She’s wasting her time,” said Sirius. “And she is not my mother. You, are not my brother, either.”
There was a horrible silence, and that blazing anger crept forward like a tiger on the prowl, waiting to take the lethal swipe. Sirius – so consumed with rage – gave into his cruelty, though he did not usually intend it. But the blade will still cut deep if it is sharp, no matter if it was an accident. Sirius narrowed his eyes and spat, “you were never even my sister.”
Something passed over Regulus’s face the moment Sirius said those words, and Sirius knew that it would be that point in time – one that would play forever in his head – that he’d regret for the rest of his life. But the look Regulus had now was not of anguish, or a deep and ungrateful hatred – it was as if there was no emotion he was feeling at all, like he chose not to waste his energy pining for something less than human. That was what Sirius was to him: less than him. Less than a black, less than a brother, less than a person. It almost scared Sirius at how much of their mother could be seen in his eyes.
“I was, once,” Regulus said slowly, without an ounce of the desperation Sirius heard in his voice moments ago, “And you know it. And that is what makes you a coward.”
And Sirius, again, did not hit Regulus. The shroud threatened to return, and Sirius encouraged it, so that he might be able to use the blindness of his rage to prove Regulus wrong. But it did not, and Sirius did not move. Whether that made him strong, or weak, he did not know, only that he could not bring himself to do more harm to him. Regulus looked mad, his green eyes darting around his face, searching for the moment Sirius betrayed himself and struck him, but it did not come. He took one look at Sirius’s shaking fist and smiled. “See?”
Sirius felt like he was back at Grimmauld place, watching Regulus from the doorway of the Reflection Room, tears in his grief-stricken eyes. Only this time, Sirius would be the one to shut the door, not knowing which one would be left in darkness. “Try not to shine too bright, Regulus. You might just end up burning.”
Sirius used every ounce of his strength to step back, turn away. If Regulus had any ounce of honour, like Lucius claimed he did, he wouldn’t have to worry about getting a spell to the back. Or perhaps, he did not cast another spell because he was weak, just like Sirius thought him to be. Perhaps they both were: blood of each other’s blood, and destined to be just as cruel as the other because they knew the most vulnerable places to strike. Sirius dared to glance back, only to find that Regulus was staring after him, a single tear rolling down his face. Blood, it tethered them by their souls, which couldn’t have been more different. It made Sirius feel as if he was reaching for the stars with one hand, and clinging desperately onto the child he’d once shielded from seeing the sky. So he did not know if it was weak or strong to let go, and watch Regulus sink further into the depths of darkness. Sirius Black turned his back a final time, and mourned a brother that had not died, but he had lost.