Harry Potter - "Le Tourbillon" - Part 4 - James/Lily/Sirius/Remus - NC-17
Title: Le Tourbillon
Author: marseverlasting
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: James/Lily, Sirius/Lily, Sirius/James, Sirius/Remus, implied Sirius/Regulus
Word Count: 35,260 words
Summary: Who doesn't want to be loved by everyone? A summer away; a time grow and fall apart.
Warnings: voyeurism, fingering, drug use, boys being assholes, femdom, poetry, angst, unrealistic portrayals of achieving orgasm, extensive foreshadowing, exhibitionism, excessive length, wall sex, (constant) alcohol use, incest, occasional breach of the fourth wall, over-indulgent discussion of a car, fluff, the French.
Author's notes: Written for krystal_moon for hp_summersmut. A big, big, big, big thank you to my Dylan Thomas who held my hand through the madness -- you are a total goddess. I've got tons of inspiration for this story, but the principle thre were Truffaut's Jules et Jim, Godard's Pierrot le fou, and Cuarón's Y tu mamá también.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
*
"James - you're wet - wait, what's wrong?"
James looks at Lily sullenly, not quite angry, not quite anything, actually. He feels gutted, de-boned like a fish, empty and cold. He grabs Sirius' T-shirt from the kitchen counter and pulls it over his head; Lily follows him around as he looks for a pair of boxers, which he finds and pulls on.
"James, what's wrong?"
"Sirius told me." He turns around to face Lily, shaking his head. "He told me about you two."
"Oh - oh God." She's white; pale porcelain white, which makes her freckles stand out even more. "James. No. I - oh God."
James sits in one of the kitchen chairs and looks at her steadily. "Why didn't you tell me?"
She doesn't understand the question; doesn't understand the difference. "I don't know what to say." Lily backs against the cupboard door, hitting her head with a knock. "James - I wanted to tell you - I needed to. But - I didn't want you to… hate Sirius. I didn't want to break what you two have. It's why I stopped seeing him, stopped f-fucking Sirius. I know I got between you two. I know you two - that you'd choose each other over me, any day. It's not an excuse, I know, and I know I've ruined everything between you - oh, God, I don't know why any of this happened, I should have just - this was all so -"
"Was what?"
"Immature. It was - childish - I don't know, James. He was - I needed him. I mean, before we got together. And then - I don't know how to explain."
James nods nearly imperceptible. "How did it happen?"
"Well, Sirius and I had been - uh, together since, well, at least fifth year." She slides into the chair across from James, resting her palms on the table and biting her lower lip; she looks like she might lose it. "James, I didn't want it to go on this long, but - to have you, and to have him, it was -" the words make sense in her head, but it sounds so awful she's not sure if she can actually say it, "it - it made me feel good." She looks down at the table, not ready to match James' eyes just yet. "It was selfish. God, it was so selfish. But he was - he was you, but an arsehole. He was you, but I could get him because I could understand him. He was you when I couldn't have you. And then - and having the both of you - oh, God, I'm going in circles and this must not make any sense - James, I'm sorry." The light above the table is bright and harsh, like a detective's lamp, and all she wants is for this all to go away, and for James to smile that familiar smile like he always does. "But, I know who I want now - no, that came out wrong. I love you. I love you more than I thought I could ever love someone and I know this sounds like an awful book but I really do love you. I love you like I want to get married and have kids love you." She's sweating, and flushed, and crying. "James, I love you so much and - it's just, I love Sirius a bit too."
James pauses, taking this in. His expression changes almost imperceptibly, from coldness to a kind of accepting warmth. His muscles loosen, he seems to go slack against the chair, and the twitch in his fist dissolves as his hand goes flat across the table. "Let's not make this into a movie." He's quiet, so composed it unnerves her. "We should get some sleep."
"What?" She feels like she's been pushed aside; his lack of anger is more painful than if he were screaming, yelling.
"What you said. I get it. That's it, let's go."
"You get what? That I - that I l-love him?"
"It's entirely possible," James says, with heavy eyes. "I love him."
"But, not like -" and then Lily looks up, and she looks at James, and she won't say anything like it was seeing him for the first time, but she saw something she'd never seen before. "Oh - oh Lord. You - and him?"
"Yeah. Well, not what you think. But, yeah."
"Oh." What do I think? "Were you - were you together?"
"No." A ghost of a smile. "Almost. Well, sort of. But it was never that simple." James looks up, and reaches over to take her hand. "But he's - Sirius, I guess. That's all there is to it." He shrugs. "I mean, it's no excuse. It's just. I think - I think I can at least understand what you - you were thinking."
"And forgive me?" She looks like a scolded child, red-rimmed eyes and sagging shoulders, small in her chair with red hair all over, freckles standing starkly out from his pale skin.
James looks at her, and his lips turn up a little at the corners. "Yes."
"I'm so sorry, James. I love you so much." She takes his hand and kisses it, holding it against her cheek.
"I love you too." He pauses, searching her eyes, stroking her face gently. "This whole thing has been kind of stupid."
"I've been stupid."
"It's okay." James smiles, ever so slightly. "If it was anyone else - I don't know. But it's - it's almost, almost kind of okay. Because. Well. It's Sirius, isn't it?" He blushes. "My Sirius, isn't it." He pauses. "That little fucking bastard."
"Are you going to forgive him?"
James shrugs. "Of course I am. He's a bastard, but I love him… for some stupid reason. And no matter what he does, he's always my brother. Sometimes I wish he weren't, but, there you have it. Maybe I'll let him suffer a bit first, though."
"We're never going to be rid of him, will we?"
"We're a package deal."
She shakes her head. "This doesn't make any sense. You guys. Us. I don't know what I was thinking, falling for you. For you two. For us three."
"To be honest, I don't know either."
Lily smiles, and it feels like normal again, that wonderful, glowing, sparkling feeling of normalcy. "But it's okay, right? We're okay?"
"We're okay. Always okay. Shall we go to sleep?
Lily brushes away the last of her tears. "Yes - but - James, I love you. So much."
"So I've heard." They get up, hug, and share a long, warm kiss. "I kind of like you too."
She drops her head to his shoulder and kisses his neck. She feels different from this, altered, like maybe she's standing a bit taller, a bit stronger, a bit older. "Did you maybe want to get married?"
James nods. "I'd like that."
"Me too."
*
"Good morning."
Sirius blinks in the sunlight, squinting and groaning. He aches all over, from the hard sand and the sheer amount of alcohol and, fuck, the things that happened that shouldn't have and oh God, everything really is fucked up. Remus stirs beside him, but doesn't wake.
"Sirius, wake up, it's almost noon."
"I wanna sleep," Sirius groans, rolling over and planting his face in the dense pillow. It smells of dew and lake and other pungent things. He doesn't mind.
"Sleeping on a beach can't be the best thing for you."
And the voice is James'. Sirius rolls over and opens his eyes, full this time. James stands over him, not quite smiling, not quite angry, more of a changing, questionable look. He holds a steaming mug of coffee in his hand, and offers it to Sirius.
Sirius takes it. "James -"
"Drink first, we'll talk after."
Sirius nods and drinks. James offers him a cigarette, which Sirius takes and lights with the end of James' wand, breathing out a stale gasp of smoke that couldn't have been more welcome. It's hot, so hot; that early kind of hot that bursts the cold of dawn and sears everything in sight; Sirius has got a sunburn on the back of his neck and his arms where they poked out of the blanket, and he's wet and stiff with sweat - the coffee isn't helping, so he downs it as quickly as possible, glowing red as the heat goes straight to his face. When Sirius finishes and extinguishes his cigarette, Remus wakes up, first twisting and rolling so his face brushes up against Sirius' naked hip, which he kisses lazily, tasting the warm flesh, mumbling indistinctly.
"Remus." Sirius shakes his shoulder gently. "Get up."
"Morning," Remus says, his eyes closed against the sun. "How you feeling?"
"Uh - could be better," Sirius says blushing, realizing that he's naked and Remus naked and they're not really hiding it and what James must think. "Um. You?"
Remus opens his eyes, shifting from mellowed sleep to shock as he notices James. "Oh." He pulls the blanket around his waist, settling himself up to sit cross-legged. "Good morning."
"Morning," James says. "There's some coffee in the kitchen if you want."
"Oh." Remus nods. "Right. Uh. I'll just be. Going then. Coffee." He wishes he had some clothes, and he wishes James would stop with that self-satisfied look who I just caught with their hand in the cookie jar expression, and he wishes (most of all) that Sirius will forget all about last night. Remus gets up, very naked, wraps a blanket over his shoulders and walks off.
"Did you guys, uh -?"
Sirius rubs a hand over his face and exhales deeply. "I don't - think so."
"But you two are -"
"Maybe." Sirius reclines back on his palms and gives a little shrug. "We've always been kind of, well, maybe."
James offers a chuckle, which warms Sirius immensely. "Well, I guess we have, uh, stuff to talk about."
Sirius nods soberly. "Yeah."
James sits in the sand across from Sirius. He's got Lily's big white sunglasses pushing back his hair, and he's wearing Remus' shirt and Peter's shorts and Sirius' belt (because James refuses to pay that much for patent leather, but isn't above stealing Sirius for it), a patchwork quilt of their friendship. They both play with the sand absently, not sure where to start.
"So, uh." James says, pausing to dig his fingers deeper into the sand. "Lily."
"I'm sorry, James." Sirius doesn't look up, just makes little finger-trails in the sand, digging a figure-eight and following its route over and over. "I'm - I don't know what I was thinking. I'm really sorry."
"That's it?"
Sirius shrugs. "I don't know what else I can say. I love you, and I've fucked all this up really badly. I didn't mean to hurt you - or Lily," he adds as an afterthought. "I was just really - you liked her, and maybe because of that I - and then when you were together, it almost felt okay because we always share and -"
"You're such a little bastard," James says, with affection. "Like, a horrible human being, I hope you know that."
Sirius looks at his feet. "I know."
James sighs. "Maybe I should have said something. I figure you'd like her. Maybe I just didn't want to see any of it happening."
"It's not your fault." And then, with a smile: "But I hope I'm not that obvious. I mean, you're the one with the thing for redheads."
James laughs, still playing with the sand, shifting it from hand to hand like he's separating the parts of an egg. "I guess."
"I'm sorry."
"It hurt a lot, you know." James looks up and catches Sirius' eye. "Finding out. Maybe not the finding out itself, but putting all the pieces together, all the moments of the last year I should have seen but just - put aside, because I just didn't think you would, you know -"
"You didn't think I would? I mean, there was Catherine -"
"Yeah, but that was - we were fifteen, it was no big deal. You knew I didn't mind sharing. Like you and whatserface, Jeanne."
Sirius laughs. "We did that a lot didn't we? I can't believe we got away with it. Poor girls."
"I just didn't think you would do it with - this one."
Sirius looks stricken. "I know - it's just, Lily is -"
"Special, yeah." James gives a sad smile. "God, you're a bastard, you know that?"
"I know I am."
James contemplates this, and as a last gesture asks: "Well, it's over, right?"
Sirius rushes to speak: "Oh God is it over. I'll never do it again. I won't even look at her if you want. Seriously, she'll be like a blind spot. Poof, gone. Seriously, just say the word."
"Don't be arse, I still want you guys to be friends. Just don't be - uh, friends. Just - not this one, Sirius."
"Never ever ever." Sirius bites his lip, and offers: "Uh, do you forgive me, then?"
"Course I do." James nods, satisfied. "I shouldn't, but I'm a pushover. Even if you are a stupid cunt."
"Love you too," Sirius murmurs. He looks impossibly relieved. "I'm really sorry, James."
"Just shut it, will you?"
"Consider it shut."
It goes without saying that they hug, and kiss. Long, and shallow, just lip-on-lip, and even then it's mostly dry and passionless, just a reaffirmation of, well, everything; of seven years of friendship and living together and I'm so sorry and It's okay. Someone might have mumbled I love you, but it's hard to tell over the sound of the waves.
James touches Sirius' warm shoulder and looks at him steadily: "Do you maybe wanna get really drunk and forget any of this happened?"
"Do you even have to ask?"
*
"Did we bring it up?"
"Of course we brought it up. We always bring it up."
"Sirius, I'm telling you, it's not here."
"It's gotta be there."
"Here, you look."
"Hold my beer."
"Okay."
"Don't drink any of it, James."
"I won't, I won't."
Lily finishes pouring another five shots of vodka, lining them up on the metal patio table all neat and organized. She leans back and takes a cigarette, lighting it and exhaling a cloud of smoke. She yells, so they can hear her: "What are guys even looking for?"
"Serge." Remus explains, sliding into the chair across from her. "Gainsbourg. The History of Melody Nelson. Sirius always plays it here. Thinks it's cool because we're in France, and listening to Serge. Très cool."
("It is cool!" Sirius yells from the living room.)
"Oh, is that the one with all the talking and breathing and panting?" Peter asks, wiping his glasses on the hem of his shirt. "And the French?"
"Yeah," Remus says, laughing. "Very descriptive, Pete." He turns to Lily. "It's actually not bad. I mean, for something Sirius likes. It's kind of - sexy."
"I'm intrigued. Shot?" She offers him one of the small glasses, which Remus takes. They sip at it carefully, like aristocrats, but it's really quite bad vodka and they grimace and decide to down it.
"Pete?" Lily asks, offering him one.
"Why not."
The three hold their shots in the air, smiling broadly at each other; they are the secret Marauders, the ones who aren't totally insane, and this bond they share very proudly.
"To us," Lily says.
"To us," Remus agrees.
Peter just laughs.
It's down and they splutter and cough and even the single touch to the tongue is enough to make Remus want to be sick. But he holds it down, chases it with a mouthful of orange, and smiles as the juice dribbles down his chin.
"Less than delicious," Lily says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "But I guess it does the trick. Are we getting hammered tonight?"
"Seems to be the plan," Remus says, taking Lily's offered cigarette and pulling a drag from it, coughing slightly and letting it out in a cloud. "James and Sirius seem determined to, in any case."
"Let me guess," Lily says, filling the empty glasses with more vodka. "Tradition?"
"Bingo," Remus says. "You're getting good at this."
"A natural Marauder," Peter says, putting his empty beer can on the table. "Beers anyone?"
"Yes, please," Remus says.
"Et moi," Lily nods, so Peter stumbles off to the kitchen.
"So," Remus says, running a hand through his hair and pushing it back from his forehead. "Things are - better?"
"Ah," Lily says, blushing and holding her glass of wine to her temple. "So you've heard, then."
Remus nods. "I have heard, yes."
"Well," and Lily drains the rest of her wine, putting the glass on the table, "things seem to be okay. With - well, with everyone. James and I are okay. James and Sirius are okay." She pauses, listening to the distant chatter of the boys still looking for the record. "Er, are we okay? I know you and Sirius were - are, uh, you know."
Remus smiles, and refills both their wine glasses. "Of course we are. Sometimes I think you're the only reason I don't go insane around these boys." He feels warm, all over, flushed and satisfied and wonderfully filled like something has been missing for months and months. The air seems so clean now, empty of the tension that's been carried for years, fresh and warm and at last (at last) tasting of summer. The change in relationship, like the moving of continents, seems halted, the gravity of their friendship drawing the five back together like nothing has ever happened. Even Peter (wonderful, naïve little Peter) seems enchanted by it, though he doesn't quite understand how this all came about. "And - well, how are you and Sirius?"
"Sirius and I?" Lily pauses, leaning back on her chair, putting her feet on the table. "We're okay. I think - I think we learned a lot about ourselves." She nods, and it's not just the wine. "I think we learned what is, um, most important in our lives." She blushes, and so does Remus.
"Aha! I told you we brought it!"
"I think," Lily says, "our cavaliers are returning."
James, Remus, and Peter march in together; James with the fabled record, Peter with a six-pack of beer, and Sirius with a large brown bottle.
"More alcohol," Sirius says, placing the bottle on the table and uncorking it easily. "You'll like this stuff."
"What is it?" Lily asks, finishing her half-glass of wine and feeling it rush straight to her cheeks.
"C'est un clavelin de vin jaune."
"And in English?"
"A bottle of yellow wine." Sirius starts pouring it into glasses. "It's a special wine, from Jura. This is a -" (he reads the label) "- 1931 Château-Chalon. My father left his rather ample collection here before -" and Sirius draws his finger across his throat. "It's worth at least a zillion pounds so I thought maybe we should drink it." Finished with pouring, Sirius puts the Gainsbourg record on the player, flicking his wand to start it playing - immediately, the porn-like twang of bass and guitar fills the outdoors, evaporating quietly into the night air; then the breathy words as Gainsbourg seduces the world, the metallic strum of guitar, the perfect nighttime mood setter, and Sirius settles right into his chair.
Lily sips at her glass; it's a mysterious little drink, oaky and nutty and filled with spice; loud and saccharine and vaguely bitter. "Your family seems to spend a lot of time in France, don't they?"
"We're French, so, yeah. And I think there's some Greek in us - hence Sirius, I suppose. I know we have a house on one of the islands, Paros or Naxos or whatever. I haven't been since I was eleven. Since - well, you know."
Lily nods. "So, you were born in France?"
"In Avignon. Ancestral home, or something. Sur le pont d'Avignon, on y danse, on y danse. We moved to London when I was three."
"You don't mind me asking, do you?" Lily says suddenly, curling her hair behind her ear. "I mean, it's not too -"
"No, it's fine." Sirius pauses, stubbing out his cigarette and taking a drink of the wine. "I - kind of like talking about them. Sometimes." He looks at his feet, almost like this is an embarrassing thing to admit. "My family came to France every year when I was a kid. This place here is Alphard's. Sometimes we went to Avignon, but we also have houses in Paris, Dordogne, and Rochefort."
"No kidding," Remus interjects.
"That's what you get with one-thousand years of pure-blood dominance. Lots and lots of money and lots of lots of property." Sirius drains his glass, and pours himself another one. "I wouldn't be upset if I never saw those houses again. This is the only place I care for. And she's all mine." Sirius does this a lot; soft, drifting conversation that he envelops in fantasy, what ifs and we shoulds. "Fuck this work thing, we should all live here." As soon as he's said it, Sirius indulges: "I mean, James and I have got loads and loads of money, I've got this house - I mean, what's so special about England? We can Apparate. Well, we'll all be able to soon is Peter would take his damn test."
Peter blushes. "It just seems really scary. I don't wanna splinch myself."
"Oh, come on Peter," Sirius says impatiently. "It's not bad at all."
"I'll teach you," James says, making Peter grin.
"But seriously guys," Sirius says, drawing them back. "Why can't we do it? It could be - oh God, wouldn't that be amazing?"
Lily sighs. "Yeah, it would be amazing. But."
They know what she means as soon as she says it, and the fantasies slip from Sirius' fingers like sand. The War. Looming over them and circling like a vulture, just now building speed but quickly becoming an inevitability. Voldemort has been a household name since they've been seven, but then he was only a scary thing, a monster in the closet; a radical, a revolutionary, a cult leader that only adults talked about. Now, the monster was a giant, the statue a colossus, the radical a tyrant.
They couldn't live here because they would fight. It was just that simple.
"Why - couldn't we?" Peter says slowly, as if unfolding his idea as he speaks. "Why couldn't we live here?"
"Because we're going to fight," James says with a touch of anger. "Because Dumbledore needs us."
Peter squints, like he's thinking deeply: "But - we don't know a lot about this Voldemort fellow. I mean, he might be a little aggressive, but he has some good ideas -"
"Yeah, like killing muggle-borns -"
"Not killing them," Peter says, trying to be reasonable, "just registering, trying to understand the magical phenomena. It's just a - science really. And, I mean, all the stuff about defending the Wizarding kind - don't you think that's important? We're a minority, and even if we can do that stuff we can, we'll die out if we don't defend our race -"
James frowns: "Defend us from who, exactly?"
"Muggles."
"But they're not trying to kill us, Peter!"
"The Witch trials? The Jews? The Muslims? The Christians?" Peter shakes his head. "They all wanted us dead. Lots still do." James looks outraged, and Peter tries to calm him. "All I'm saying is that maybe Voldemort isn't our enemy! He's a radical, isn't he? He's just trying to get the message out. He's trying to defend us Wizards, and I think that's not necessarily a bad thing."
"It is when he'll do anything to get it," James says, bluntly. "They said Hitler wasn't an enemy, just trying to preserve his race -"
Peter cuts him off: "Don't use him as an example, this is different -"
"No it isn't," Sirius says quietly. "It's the same exact thing. I know it is. My parents were sympathizers. I mean, it takes a lot to get my parents interested in the Muggle world, but Hitler - yeah, they thought he had the right idea. Always told me so, even twenty years after the war." His voice stings of bitterness and anger; untapped, unrefined. "Purity. Defense of the race."
"But Voldemort isn't exactly saying that -"
"He will be," Sirius says calmly. "Oh, he will be."
"Lily's muggle-born, Peter," James says angrily. "You want her tagged? Registered, like an animal? Given a little number on her wrist, and then -"
"Of course I don't!" Peter nearly yells, and he looks like he's close to tears. "I'm just saying we shouldn't dismiss everything Voldemort is saying! -"
"He's nothing more than a racist tyrant," James says flatly. "And I'm going to fight him, even if it means my life." They sit in silence for a while, until James turns to Peter and says: "Are you going to fight with us?"
"Am I - going to fight?"
"In the war. Are you going to fight against Voldemort with us? Like a proper Marauder?"
"I - I don't know if I can."
Sirius is angry this time: "You'd abandon us? You'd hide, all warm and safe, leaving your best friends to fight? To die?"
"I'm scared, Sirius! I'm not brave like you - or Remus, or James." Peter is furiously red, pale cheeks blotchy with rose, neck and the skin at the lip of his shirt a bright pink, eyes rimmed with tears. "I don't know if I can do it."
Lily takes Peter's hand in hers, and she speaks in a shaky voice: "Peter, if we fight together - if we fight together, nothing bad can happen to us."
The five of them fall silent, quiet until the dying sun sets and day becomes night. Night is warm and noisy, with bugs and waves and the sound of the occasional speedboat. Night is filled with more alcohol, the beers are opened and passed around, and the shot glasses lie in wait until this tension dies.
"This isn't how I pictured tonight," Sirius says, filling his wine glass with the rest of the vin jaune. "I pictured this kind of being more fun."
"I'm sorry," Peter says sullenly.
"Don't apologize, Pete," James says easily. "It's fine. It's just - don't forget, we're always with you. You don't have to go through this - thing - alone. We love you, man."
Peter nods and looks down at his hands as he fiddles with a cork.
"Shots, I think," James prescribes. "Lots of shots."
Sirius laughs. "Body shots?"
Almost immediately Remus, Peter, James, and Sirius burst into gales of laughter, laughing until they're crying, laughing until everything bad is swept far, far away. Lily knows this is another tradition, another ritual that she uncovers (like Chagnon studying the Fierce People), and she watches them like she's watching the insane; eyes wide open, slightly disturbed, fully engrossed.
She clears her throat. "Um, should I ask?"
"Just watch," Sirius says, still chuckling. He takes one of the full shotglasses and looks at James expectantly.
With a grin, James pulls off his T-shirt and leans back against the table, his body rigid, diagonal plane that forms a right-angle triangle. Thin and flexible, James leans back with his hips so his shoulders are nearly parallel to the surface of the patio table, his hands reaching back and supporting him in a strange kind of limbo. Sirius maneuvers in and, planting a comfortable hand on the flat of James' tummy, carefully empties the shot glass into the shallow divot in James' chest.
"You can't be serious," Lily says, spluttering on her beer.
"Of course I'm Sirius." He grins, a grin that James matches, and Lily (not for the first time) wonders how she came to love either of these grinning Reynards. Very gently, almost gracefully, Sirius leans down and lowers his face to James' chest - he seems to embrace his friend, arms stretching around him like an enormous spindly drinking cup, and he brings his lips closer to the divot, sliding the very tip of his tongue across the stretch of pale skin, flicking devilishly at James' nipple before resting on the lip of bone before the indent. Peter is smiling and grimacing in one, while Remus is shaking in fits of silent laughter. Lily just stares, not quite sure what to think. With a strange kind of deftness, Sirius slips his tongue into the liquor, and with one long, violent sip shoots the vodka and swallows it easily before bursting into loud, spluttering laughter.
"I cannot believe you just did that," Lily says, with amused disgust. "That is the - the gayest thing I have ever seen."
"Go on, do one," Sirius says, nudging her in the arm. "Make him straight, if you want."
"Yeah!" Peter says brightly. "Come on, Lily."
"You people are weird." She jokes, but she feels compelled to join, cherishing the invitation into their inner circle.
"Go on," James says, wiping away the spilled vodka from his neck and shoulders. "Make me straight."
"Only if everyone else does one." She likes the symmetry. Remus nods appreciatively, warm and woozy from his wine, and Peter just looks a little stunned. "Peter - you do one, I do one." She winks at him, which seals the deal. "All right, c'mere you poof."
Sirius pours another one into the shallow cavity, and Lily lowers herself to him. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she says, laughing. "You people are insane." She looks at the shot and tries to reason with it - how exactly can she do it? Like Sirius, she supposes. So she brings her lips to James' chest and, with a great slurp, takes and swallows the shot in one, coughing as it goes down.
"Oh God, it's as disgusting as it looks!" she cries, laughing and wiping her mouth.
"All right, James," Remus says, swaying over to him. "You human cup, you."
Sirius does the honours again, and Remus leans in, deftly taking the shot and swallowing it easily, chasing it with a grin. Sirius pats Remus on the back jocularly, and then quickly (looking quite flustered and self-conscious) slips an arm around his waist, tucking his fingers under the lip of Remus' shorts.
James stands, stretches, and goes back to his yoga-like position. "All right, c'mere Peter."
Peter stumbles over, looking a bit like he's wandering through a dream, that vague hazy look in his eyes. "I'm not - you don't really -"
"Yes really," James says. "Come on, Wormy."
"Don't call me that," Peter says, flushing pink.
"All right, but come on, my arms are getting tired." So, reluctantly, Peter comes over, and Sirius, like some priest in this bizarre ritual, pours the shot. Gently, carefully, Peter leans in, and (almost like he's sipping a fine wine) he drinks the shot, swallowing it and grimacing amidst the laughing cheers and applause of his friends.
"We're booze brothers now," Sirius says, passing James a towel and filling another five shots. "And James is our goblet."
"Gee, thanks," James says.
Sirius passes the shots around, and with a group cheer of 'the Marauders' they down the drink and flop back in their chairs, sipping on their beers and welcoming the warm wave of drunkenness. From this point on, the night gets hazy, like sun through the trees - more drinks are had, and even more cheers; more drinks, and . Exchanges of kisses and all transgressions are forgiven; Remus and Sirius sit close together and hold hands like a teenage couple; James and Lily do the same; when Peter says he feels left out, the cavalry come and give him bear hugs and kisses on the lips that makes him splutter and he swears happily and says he'll never, ever complain again.
"So," Sirius says, now well into a new bottle of whiskey. "What was your best orgasm?"
This gets laughs, but Sirius seems earnest so they subside into thought.
"Best orgasm?" James says finally. "Okay - well, oh shit, fuck, Sirius, you're going to hate me -"
"I already do."
"Ha ha." James steadies himself, steadies his mind. "Okay. My best orgasm was. Um. Fuck, it was in - it was maybe kind of in your - in your car."
"In my car?"
James nods. "Yep. Last week."
"With who?"
"Lily, you berk."
Sirius is on the verge; his expression is unreadable, drifting easily between anger and hilarity. "you're serious?"
"No, you're Sirius."
"You cheeky fucking bastard. In the Red Baron? You had sex in our Red Baron?" Sirius laughs, and kicks James in the shin under the table ("Ow - you fuck!") "Man, I wanted to christen her." He pouts, but it's all love.
"You're not angry?"
"Course I'm not angry. She's your baby too. I just hope you cleaned up after. I don't want to wallow in your juice."
"Ew, didn't need that image, thanks," Peter groans, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. "Ew."
"What's yours, Lily?" James asks, turning to his girlfriend. "Okay, okay, no - uh, truth, promise to tell he truth?"
"Course," Lily says, nodding.
James takes a deep breath. "Who was the better fuck - me, or Sirius?"
She laughs, which makes everyone else laugh. Lily smiles and she rubs James' hand affectionately. "Despite the fiasco, you each have your own charms."
"But who made you feel better?" Sirius asks, all jokingly suave. "Who filled you with desire?"
"Well, when you fuck," Lily says to Sirius," you say other peoples' names." She does an impression: "Unh, unh, unh, Lily - Lily - unh - Remus - Remuuuusssssss -"
Everyone laughs while Sirius goes bright pink.
"Aw, you thought of me?" Remus jokes, rubbing his shoulder affectionately. "I'm touched."
"Way to fucking go, Sirius," James says, giving him a friendly punch. "You stupid cocksucker."
"And you," Lily says, turning to him. "You're the most dour fucker I've ever seen." She scrunches her forehead and thrusts with her hips, giving deep, monotone grunts, which makes her audience cackle gleefully. "It's like you need total concentration." Now it's James' turn to go pink, while Sirius punches him in the shoulder. "You need to loosen up, babe. Get more creative. I mean, you freaked out when I tried to finger you and look how that turned out -"
"You fingered him?" Sirius asks, his eyes wide.
"Just a little," James replies, squirming in his seat. "It - it wasn't bad."
"She learned that from me!" Sirius says, really red and drunk. "I asked her to do it and she freaked out."
They erupt in laughter, all five of them, because that's what happens with veins full of wine and hearts full of cheer. Lily kisses James, and Remus kisses Sirius and they look at Peter eagerly, waiting for him to complain (he doesn't, but they kiss him anyway.)
"Okay, Remus, best orgasm?"
"Me?" Remus says, biting his lip. "But - er - I haven't really -"
"Surely you've had at least one," Sirius prods.
"I - okay." Remus steels himself, and speaks: "In fifth year. A blowjob. That was my best orgasm."
"Oh-ho!" Sirius says, patting him on the back. "You little minx. Who from?"
"Um." Remus laughs, and looks at Sirius with a smile. "You, actually."
Silence. "Me?"
"Lily's birthday. You were so, so drunk. I was kind of drunk too. But you were really drunk."
"I - I don't remember that at all." Sirius looks at Lily, to James and Peter, back to Remus. "Are you serious?"
"No, you're -"
"Fucking hell, if someone says that again, I swear to God -
Remus scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. "Well, I'm serious. It was - well. Uh. You - swallowed."
Sirius pales. "I'm never drinking again."
James nudges him. "Too late."
Sirius pauses, tapping his finger to his lips as he digests the information. "Well - uh - did you like it?"
"Yes, actually. It was - you were very good. Kind of bite-y, but top notch, thumbs up."
Well, that's all right then, and Sirius grins. "Good. I aim to please. Did you get me off at least?"
Remus' cheeks go bright pink. "I - tried, but you kind of… fell asleep."
Gales of familiar laughter, more kicks under the table and more punches to the shoulder. Sirius kisses Remus, this time full and wet and biting, with displaced passion and lovely handwork. Sirius growls: "I guess you owe me one. You'll have to finish me off later."
"Cigarettes?" James interrupts, handing around his pack. The company indulge easily. "Peter, your best?"
"My best?" Peter pouts a puff of smoke and settles in his chair. "Seventh year. With whatserface. Skeeter."
"No fucking kidding," Sirius says. "Rita. You fucking dog, you. She had the most amazing boobs. Annoying as all hell, but Lordy, those boobs. What'd you do?"
"Lost my virginity," Peter replies, a bit proudly. This elicits backslaps and well-dones, jovial punches in the arm and demands of another round of drinks; Peter glows under the admiration.
This leaves Sirius. "And you?"
Sirius answers easily, like he's thought about this a lot: "April 3rd. This year. In my dormitory. With my hand."
"Your best orgasm was - was masturbation?" James says, in disbelief. "But - but all the girls! All the people you've messed around with! What's so special about April 3rd?"
"That was the day He - the holy one, the most beautiful man on earth, and my boyfriend - joined The Sex Pistols. I got the magazine, it had a full-page spread of him in these tight little jeans and that body of his. Fuck, best orgasm of my life."
"You came to - to Sid Vicious?"
"Twice."
"But - he looks just like you. You could be twins, we all said it -"
Sirius nods. "Exactly. It was sex with someone I love."
"You - you arrogant little fuck," James says, amused. "That was my magazine! Though, I should have guessed. When I tried to read that magazine, the pages were all stuck together."
"This hand knows me better than any man," Sirius says, touching his own cheek affectionately. "And Siddy. Well, Siddy is just untouchable. What a man. What a fucking man."
"And all this time you claimed you weren't gay," Remus says, cocking an eyebrow. "It seems we have evidence to prove the contrary."
"You talk funny when you're drunk," Sirius says, slapping Remus' knee. "And I'm not gay. I'm just histrionic."
"Really, that's you in a nutshell," Lily says warmly. "Histrionic and horny."
Peter, who had been filling the shot glasses once more, passes them around once again. "To being histrionic and horny," Peter says, raising his own. He is joined by his friends and they down another, sending them all reeling and spinning, their heads a mess of thoughts and love.
"You think," Sirius begins, a new thought, "you think that people will write books about us? Stories, I mean?"
"About us?" Remus asks, pushing his hair back. "Why would they write about us?"
"I don't know. We're interesting as fuck, though. We could be important."
"Who would want to write about a bunch of stupid teenagers?" James asks.
Sirius shrugs. "Maybe when we're older. Veterans of the war and heroes of the earth."
"Would you want someone to write about you?" Lily asks, opening another beer. "Wouldn't it be a little weird?"
"Course I'd want someone to write about me." Sirius nods. "So long as I'm the leading man and die a dramatic death."
"Don't talk about that," Remus says with an odd swagger, maybe something he borrowed from Sirius. "We're all going to live forever, aren't we?"
"Course," James says, nodding sagely. "Teenagerdom is eternal."
"The eternal pimple," Lily adds.
"To living forever," Sirius says, raising his glass. It's a bit odd; it's not a cheerful toast, not one of their jokes, not amused or excited, not drunkenly proposed or stupidly thought of. It seems almost poignant, like there's something more to it, a foreboding tone in Sirius' voice that speaks of the war and speaks of his family (old and new), like he's stuck on something difficult to realize. The rest of his friends realize this, and they raise their glasses in solemn unity; Cheers, they say, and drink their drinks.
As if on cue, thunder rumbles in the distance, the beginning of one of those night storms, the ones that rage at midnight and vanish by morning.
"Ooh, foreboding," James says.
"It's a pathetic fallacy," Remus says, nodding. "Like the storm in King Lear. It's the coming battle. And this is the calm before. Appropriate, I think."
"Fuck it. We're together, so who cares?" Sirius says grandly, drunkenly.
James nods. "Who cares."
"Who cares," Lily agrees.
Remus nods. "Who cares."
And, last but not least, Peter, with a small smile: "Who cares."
Their beers are empty, the wine is done; the vodka is finished, the cigarettes are smoked. Their heads are filled with storms and war, with orgasms and kisses and the French language and Serge Gainsbourg's music. It's all about not caring (fuck it); it's all about swirling and twisting and not being able to stand upright without laughing and clutching a friend's shoulder and collapsing on the stone patio in a warm, comfortable heap. It's all about being nearly naked and kissing your best friends in muggy heat. That's all it's about. No big plot, no big strategy; no politics, no philosophy; no religion, and no war; no meaning, no purpose, no climax, no denouement; no warnings, no danger, no peace, no thoughts; no big literary purpose, no small personal promise - just this, these people, right here.
When it starts to rain, they go inside.
Author: marseverlasting
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: James/Lily, Sirius/Lily, Sirius/James, Sirius/Remus, implied Sirius/Regulus
Word Count: 35,260 words
Summary: Who doesn't want to be loved by everyone? A summer away; a time grow and fall apart.
Warnings: voyeurism, fingering, drug use, boys being assholes, femdom, poetry, angst, unrealistic portrayals of achieving orgasm, extensive foreshadowing, exhibitionism, excessive length, wall sex, (constant) alcohol use, incest, occasional breach of the fourth wall, over-indulgent discussion of a car, fluff, the French.
Author's notes: Written for krystal_moon for hp_summersmut. A big, big, big, big thank you to my Dylan Thomas who held my hand through the madness -- you are a total goddess. I've got tons of inspiration for this story, but the principle thre were Truffaut's Jules et Jim, Godard's Pierrot le fou, and Cuarón's Y tu mamá también.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
*
"James - you're wet - wait, what's wrong?"
James looks at Lily sullenly, not quite angry, not quite anything, actually. He feels gutted, de-boned like a fish, empty and cold. He grabs Sirius' T-shirt from the kitchen counter and pulls it over his head; Lily follows him around as he looks for a pair of boxers, which he finds and pulls on.
"James, what's wrong?"
"Sirius told me." He turns around to face Lily, shaking his head. "He told me about you two."
"Oh - oh God." She's white; pale porcelain white, which makes her freckles stand out even more. "James. No. I - oh God."
James sits in one of the kitchen chairs and looks at her steadily. "Why didn't you tell me?"
She doesn't understand the question; doesn't understand the difference. "I don't know what to say." Lily backs against the cupboard door, hitting her head with a knock. "James - I wanted to tell you - I needed to. But - I didn't want you to… hate Sirius. I didn't want to break what you two have. It's why I stopped seeing him, stopped f-fucking Sirius. I know I got between you two. I know you two - that you'd choose each other over me, any day. It's not an excuse, I know, and I know I've ruined everything between you - oh, God, I don't know why any of this happened, I should have just - this was all so -"
"Was what?"
"Immature. It was - childish - I don't know, James. He was - I needed him. I mean, before we got together. And then - I don't know how to explain."
James nods nearly imperceptible. "How did it happen?"
"Well, Sirius and I had been - uh, together since, well, at least fifth year." She slides into the chair across from James, resting her palms on the table and biting her lower lip; she looks like she might lose it. "James, I didn't want it to go on this long, but - to have you, and to have him, it was -" the words make sense in her head, but it sounds so awful she's not sure if she can actually say it, "it - it made me feel good." She looks down at the table, not ready to match James' eyes just yet. "It was selfish. God, it was so selfish. But he was - he was you, but an arsehole. He was you, but I could get him because I could understand him. He was you when I couldn't have you. And then - and having the both of you - oh, God, I'm going in circles and this must not make any sense - James, I'm sorry." The light above the table is bright and harsh, like a detective's lamp, and all she wants is for this all to go away, and for James to smile that familiar smile like he always does. "But, I know who I want now - no, that came out wrong. I love you. I love you more than I thought I could ever love someone and I know this sounds like an awful book but I really do love you. I love you like I want to get married and have kids love you." She's sweating, and flushed, and crying. "James, I love you so much and - it's just, I love Sirius a bit too."
James pauses, taking this in. His expression changes almost imperceptibly, from coldness to a kind of accepting warmth. His muscles loosen, he seems to go slack against the chair, and the twitch in his fist dissolves as his hand goes flat across the table. "Let's not make this into a movie." He's quiet, so composed it unnerves her. "We should get some sleep."
"What?" She feels like she's been pushed aside; his lack of anger is more painful than if he were screaming, yelling.
"What you said. I get it. That's it, let's go."
"You get what? That I - that I l-love him?"
"It's entirely possible," James says, with heavy eyes. "I love him."
"But, not like -" and then Lily looks up, and she looks at James, and she won't say anything like it was seeing him for the first time, but she saw something she'd never seen before. "Oh - oh Lord. You - and him?"
"Yeah. Well, not what you think. But, yeah."
"Oh." What do I think? "Were you - were you together?"
"No." A ghost of a smile. "Almost. Well, sort of. But it was never that simple." James looks up, and reaches over to take her hand. "But he's - Sirius, I guess. That's all there is to it." He shrugs. "I mean, it's no excuse. It's just. I think - I think I can at least understand what you - you were thinking."
"And forgive me?" She looks like a scolded child, red-rimmed eyes and sagging shoulders, small in her chair with red hair all over, freckles standing starkly out from his pale skin.
James looks at her, and his lips turn up a little at the corners. "Yes."
"I'm so sorry, James. I love you so much." She takes his hand and kisses it, holding it against her cheek.
"I love you too." He pauses, searching her eyes, stroking her face gently. "This whole thing has been kind of stupid."
"I've been stupid."
"It's okay." James smiles, ever so slightly. "If it was anyone else - I don't know. But it's - it's almost, almost kind of okay. Because. Well. It's Sirius, isn't it?" He blushes. "My Sirius, isn't it." He pauses. "That little fucking bastard."
"Are you going to forgive him?"
James shrugs. "Of course I am. He's a bastard, but I love him… for some stupid reason. And no matter what he does, he's always my brother. Sometimes I wish he weren't, but, there you have it. Maybe I'll let him suffer a bit first, though."
"We're never going to be rid of him, will we?"
"We're a package deal."
She shakes her head. "This doesn't make any sense. You guys. Us. I don't know what I was thinking, falling for you. For you two. For us three."
"To be honest, I don't know either."
Lily smiles, and it feels like normal again, that wonderful, glowing, sparkling feeling of normalcy. "But it's okay, right? We're okay?"
"We're okay. Always okay. Shall we go to sleep?
Lily brushes away the last of her tears. "Yes - but - James, I love you. So much."
"So I've heard." They get up, hug, and share a long, warm kiss. "I kind of like you too."
She drops her head to his shoulder and kisses his neck. She feels different from this, altered, like maybe she's standing a bit taller, a bit stronger, a bit older. "Did you maybe want to get married?"
James nods. "I'd like that."
"Me too."
*
"Good morning."
Sirius blinks in the sunlight, squinting and groaning. He aches all over, from the hard sand and the sheer amount of alcohol and, fuck, the things that happened that shouldn't have and oh God, everything really is fucked up. Remus stirs beside him, but doesn't wake.
"Sirius, wake up, it's almost noon."
"I wanna sleep," Sirius groans, rolling over and planting his face in the dense pillow. It smells of dew and lake and other pungent things. He doesn't mind.
"Sleeping on a beach can't be the best thing for you."
And the voice is James'. Sirius rolls over and opens his eyes, full this time. James stands over him, not quite smiling, not quite angry, more of a changing, questionable look. He holds a steaming mug of coffee in his hand, and offers it to Sirius.
Sirius takes it. "James -"
"Drink first, we'll talk after."
Sirius nods and drinks. James offers him a cigarette, which Sirius takes and lights with the end of James' wand, breathing out a stale gasp of smoke that couldn't have been more welcome. It's hot, so hot; that early kind of hot that bursts the cold of dawn and sears everything in sight; Sirius has got a sunburn on the back of his neck and his arms where they poked out of the blanket, and he's wet and stiff with sweat - the coffee isn't helping, so he downs it as quickly as possible, glowing red as the heat goes straight to his face. When Sirius finishes and extinguishes his cigarette, Remus wakes up, first twisting and rolling so his face brushes up against Sirius' naked hip, which he kisses lazily, tasting the warm flesh, mumbling indistinctly.
"Remus." Sirius shakes his shoulder gently. "Get up."
"Morning," Remus says, his eyes closed against the sun. "How you feeling?"
"Uh - could be better," Sirius says blushing, realizing that he's naked and Remus naked and they're not really hiding it and what James must think. "Um. You?"
Remus opens his eyes, shifting from mellowed sleep to shock as he notices James. "Oh." He pulls the blanket around his waist, settling himself up to sit cross-legged. "Good morning."
"Morning," James says. "There's some coffee in the kitchen if you want."
"Oh." Remus nods. "Right. Uh. I'll just be. Going then. Coffee." He wishes he had some clothes, and he wishes James would stop with that self-satisfied look who I just caught with their hand in the cookie jar expression, and he wishes (most of all) that Sirius will forget all about last night. Remus gets up, very naked, wraps a blanket over his shoulders and walks off.
"Did you guys, uh -?"
Sirius rubs a hand over his face and exhales deeply. "I don't - think so."
"But you two are -"
"Maybe." Sirius reclines back on his palms and gives a little shrug. "We've always been kind of, well, maybe."
James offers a chuckle, which warms Sirius immensely. "Well, I guess we have, uh, stuff to talk about."
Sirius nods soberly. "Yeah."
James sits in the sand across from Sirius. He's got Lily's big white sunglasses pushing back his hair, and he's wearing Remus' shirt and Peter's shorts and Sirius' belt (because James refuses to pay that much for patent leather, but isn't above stealing Sirius for it), a patchwork quilt of their friendship. They both play with the sand absently, not sure where to start.
"So, uh." James says, pausing to dig his fingers deeper into the sand. "Lily."
"I'm sorry, James." Sirius doesn't look up, just makes little finger-trails in the sand, digging a figure-eight and following its route over and over. "I'm - I don't know what I was thinking. I'm really sorry."
"That's it?"
Sirius shrugs. "I don't know what else I can say. I love you, and I've fucked all this up really badly. I didn't mean to hurt you - or Lily," he adds as an afterthought. "I was just really - you liked her, and maybe because of that I - and then when you were together, it almost felt okay because we always share and -"
"You're such a little bastard," James says, with affection. "Like, a horrible human being, I hope you know that."
Sirius looks at his feet. "I know."
James sighs. "Maybe I should have said something. I figure you'd like her. Maybe I just didn't want to see any of it happening."
"It's not your fault." And then, with a smile: "But I hope I'm not that obvious. I mean, you're the one with the thing for redheads."
James laughs, still playing with the sand, shifting it from hand to hand like he's separating the parts of an egg. "I guess."
"I'm sorry."
"It hurt a lot, you know." James looks up and catches Sirius' eye. "Finding out. Maybe not the finding out itself, but putting all the pieces together, all the moments of the last year I should have seen but just - put aside, because I just didn't think you would, you know -"
"You didn't think I would? I mean, there was Catherine -"
"Yeah, but that was - we were fifteen, it was no big deal. You knew I didn't mind sharing. Like you and whatserface, Jeanne."
Sirius laughs. "We did that a lot didn't we? I can't believe we got away with it. Poor girls."
"I just didn't think you would do it with - this one."
Sirius looks stricken. "I know - it's just, Lily is -"
"Special, yeah." James gives a sad smile. "God, you're a bastard, you know that?"
"I know I am."
James contemplates this, and as a last gesture asks: "Well, it's over, right?"
Sirius rushes to speak: "Oh God is it over. I'll never do it again. I won't even look at her if you want. Seriously, she'll be like a blind spot. Poof, gone. Seriously, just say the word."
"Don't be arse, I still want you guys to be friends. Just don't be - uh, friends. Just - not this one, Sirius."
"Never ever ever." Sirius bites his lip, and offers: "Uh, do you forgive me, then?"
"Course I do." James nods, satisfied. "I shouldn't, but I'm a pushover. Even if you are a stupid cunt."
"Love you too," Sirius murmurs. He looks impossibly relieved. "I'm really sorry, James."
"Just shut it, will you?"
"Consider it shut."
It goes without saying that they hug, and kiss. Long, and shallow, just lip-on-lip, and even then it's mostly dry and passionless, just a reaffirmation of, well, everything; of seven years of friendship and living together and I'm so sorry and It's okay. Someone might have mumbled I love you, but it's hard to tell over the sound of the waves.
James touches Sirius' warm shoulder and looks at him steadily: "Do you maybe wanna get really drunk and forget any of this happened?"
"Do you even have to ask?"
*
"Did we bring it up?"
"Of course we brought it up. We always bring it up."
"Sirius, I'm telling you, it's not here."
"It's gotta be there."
"Here, you look."
"Hold my beer."
"Okay."
"Don't drink any of it, James."
"I won't, I won't."
Lily finishes pouring another five shots of vodka, lining them up on the metal patio table all neat and organized. She leans back and takes a cigarette, lighting it and exhaling a cloud of smoke. She yells, so they can hear her: "What are guys even looking for?"
"Serge." Remus explains, sliding into the chair across from her. "Gainsbourg. The History of Melody Nelson. Sirius always plays it here. Thinks it's cool because we're in France, and listening to Serge. Très cool."
("It is cool!" Sirius yells from the living room.)
"Oh, is that the one with all the talking and breathing and panting?" Peter asks, wiping his glasses on the hem of his shirt. "And the French?"
"Yeah," Remus says, laughing. "Very descriptive, Pete." He turns to Lily. "It's actually not bad. I mean, for something Sirius likes. It's kind of - sexy."
"I'm intrigued. Shot?" She offers him one of the small glasses, which Remus takes. They sip at it carefully, like aristocrats, but it's really quite bad vodka and they grimace and decide to down it.
"Pete?" Lily asks, offering him one.
"Why not."
The three hold their shots in the air, smiling broadly at each other; they are the secret Marauders, the ones who aren't totally insane, and this bond they share very proudly.
"To us," Lily says.
"To us," Remus agrees.
Peter just laughs.
It's down and they splutter and cough and even the single touch to the tongue is enough to make Remus want to be sick. But he holds it down, chases it with a mouthful of orange, and smiles as the juice dribbles down his chin.
"Less than delicious," Lily says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "But I guess it does the trick. Are we getting hammered tonight?"
"Seems to be the plan," Remus says, taking Lily's offered cigarette and pulling a drag from it, coughing slightly and letting it out in a cloud. "James and Sirius seem determined to, in any case."
"Let me guess," Lily says, filling the empty glasses with more vodka. "Tradition?"
"Bingo," Remus says. "You're getting good at this."
"A natural Marauder," Peter says, putting his empty beer can on the table. "Beers anyone?"
"Yes, please," Remus says.
"Et moi," Lily nods, so Peter stumbles off to the kitchen.
"So," Remus says, running a hand through his hair and pushing it back from his forehead. "Things are - better?"
"Ah," Lily says, blushing and holding her glass of wine to her temple. "So you've heard, then."
Remus nods. "I have heard, yes."
"Well," and Lily drains the rest of her wine, putting the glass on the table, "things seem to be okay. With - well, with everyone. James and I are okay. James and Sirius are okay." She pauses, listening to the distant chatter of the boys still looking for the record. "Er, are we okay? I know you and Sirius were - are, uh, you know."
Remus smiles, and refills both their wine glasses. "Of course we are. Sometimes I think you're the only reason I don't go insane around these boys." He feels warm, all over, flushed and satisfied and wonderfully filled like something has been missing for months and months. The air seems so clean now, empty of the tension that's been carried for years, fresh and warm and at last (at last) tasting of summer. The change in relationship, like the moving of continents, seems halted, the gravity of their friendship drawing the five back together like nothing has ever happened. Even Peter (wonderful, naïve little Peter) seems enchanted by it, though he doesn't quite understand how this all came about. "And - well, how are you and Sirius?"
"Sirius and I?" Lily pauses, leaning back on her chair, putting her feet on the table. "We're okay. I think - I think we learned a lot about ourselves." She nods, and it's not just the wine. "I think we learned what is, um, most important in our lives." She blushes, and so does Remus.
"Aha! I told you we brought it!"
"I think," Lily says, "our cavaliers are returning."
James, Remus, and Peter march in together; James with the fabled record, Peter with a six-pack of beer, and Sirius with a large brown bottle.
"More alcohol," Sirius says, placing the bottle on the table and uncorking it easily. "You'll like this stuff."
"What is it?" Lily asks, finishing her half-glass of wine and feeling it rush straight to her cheeks.
"C'est un clavelin de vin jaune."
"And in English?"
"A bottle of yellow wine." Sirius starts pouring it into glasses. "It's a special wine, from Jura. This is a -" (he reads the label) "- 1931 Château-Chalon. My father left his rather ample collection here before -" and Sirius draws his finger across his throat. "It's worth at least a zillion pounds so I thought maybe we should drink it." Finished with pouring, Sirius puts the Gainsbourg record on the player, flicking his wand to start it playing - immediately, the porn-like twang of bass and guitar fills the outdoors, evaporating quietly into the night air; then the breathy words as Gainsbourg seduces the world, the metallic strum of guitar, the perfect nighttime mood setter, and Sirius settles right into his chair.
Lily sips at her glass; it's a mysterious little drink, oaky and nutty and filled with spice; loud and saccharine and vaguely bitter. "Your family seems to spend a lot of time in France, don't they?"
"We're French, so, yeah. And I think there's some Greek in us - hence Sirius, I suppose. I know we have a house on one of the islands, Paros or Naxos or whatever. I haven't been since I was eleven. Since - well, you know."
Lily nods. "So, you were born in France?"
"In Avignon. Ancestral home, or something. Sur le pont d'Avignon, on y danse, on y danse. We moved to London when I was three."
"You don't mind me asking, do you?" Lily says suddenly, curling her hair behind her ear. "I mean, it's not too -"
"No, it's fine." Sirius pauses, stubbing out his cigarette and taking a drink of the wine. "I - kind of like talking about them. Sometimes." He looks at his feet, almost like this is an embarrassing thing to admit. "My family came to France every year when I was a kid. This place here is Alphard's. Sometimes we went to Avignon, but we also have houses in Paris, Dordogne, and Rochefort."
"No kidding," Remus interjects.
"That's what you get with one-thousand years of pure-blood dominance. Lots and lots of money and lots of lots of property." Sirius drains his glass, and pours himself another one. "I wouldn't be upset if I never saw those houses again. This is the only place I care for. And she's all mine." Sirius does this a lot; soft, drifting conversation that he envelops in fantasy, what ifs and we shoulds. "Fuck this work thing, we should all live here." As soon as he's said it, Sirius indulges: "I mean, James and I have got loads and loads of money, I've got this house - I mean, what's so special about England? We can Apparate. Well, we'll all be able to soon is Peter would take his damn test."
Peter blushes. "It just seems really scary. I don't wanna splinch myself."
"Oh, come on Peter," Sirius says impatiently. "It's not bad at all."
"I'll teach you," James says, making Peter grin.
"But seriously guys," Sirius says, drawing them back. "Why can't we do it? It could be - oh God, wouldn't that be amazing?"
Lily sighs. "Yeah, it would be amazing. But."
They know what she means as soon as she says it, and the fantasies slip from Sirius' fingers like sand. The War. Looming over them and circling like a vulture, just now building speed but quickly becoming an inevitability. Voldemort has been a household name since they've been seven, but then he was only a scary thing, a monster in the closet; a radical, a revolutionary, a cult leader that only adults talked about. Now, the monster was a giant, the statue a colossus, the radical a tyrant.
They couldn't live here because they would fight. It was just that simple.
"Why - couldn't we?" Peter says slowly, as if unfolding his idea as he speaks. "Why couldn't we live here?"
"Because we're going to fight," James says with a touch of anger. "Because Dumbledore needs us."
Peter squints, like he's thinking deeply: "But - we don't know a lot about this Voldemort fellow. I mean, he might be a little aggressive, but he has some good ideas -"
"Yeah, like killing muggle-borns -"
"Not killing them," Peter says, trying to be reasonable, "just registering, trying to understand the magical phenomena. It's just a - science really. And, I mean, all the stuff about defending the Wizarding kind - don't you think that's important? We're a minority, and even if we can do that stuff we can, we'll die out if we don't defend our race -"
James frowns: "Defend us from who, exactly?"
"Muggles."
"But they're not trying to kill us, Peter!"
"The Witch trials? The Jews? The Muslims? The Christians?" Peter shakes his head. "They all wanted us dead. Lots still do." James looks outraged, and Peter tries to calm him. "All I'm saying is that maybe Voldemort isn't our enemy! He's a radical, isn't he? He's just trying to get the message out. He's trying to defend us Wizards, and I think that's not necessarily a bad thing."
"It is when he'll do anything to get it," James says, bluntly. "They said Hitler wasn't an enemy, just trying to preserve his race -"
Peter cuts him off: "Don't use him as an example, this is different -"
"No it isn't," Sirius says quietly. "It's the same exact thing. I know it is. My parents were sympathizers. I mean, it takes a lot to get my parents interested in the Muggle world, but Hitler - yeah, they thought he had the right idea. Always told me so, even twenty years after the war." His voice stings of bitterness and anger; untapped, unrefined. "Purity. Defense of the race."
"But Voldemort isn't exactly saying that -"
"He will be," Sirius says calmly. "Oh, he will be."
"Lily's muggle-born, Peter," James says angrily. "You want her tagged? Registered, like an animal? Given a little number on her wrist, and then -"
"Of course I don't!" Peter nearly yells, and he looks like he's close to tears. "I'm just saying we shouldn't dismiss everything Voldemort is saying! -"
"He's nothing more than a racist tyrant," James says flatly. "And I'm going to fight him, even if it means my life." They sit in silence for a while, until James turns to Peter and says: "Are you going to fight with us?"
"Am I - going to fight?"
"In the war. Are you going to fight against Voldemort with us? Like a proper Marauder?"
"I - I don't know if I can."
Sirius is angry this time: "You'd abandon us? You'd hide, all warm and safe, leaving your best friends to fight? To die?"
"I'm scared, Sirius! I'm not brave like you - or Remus, or James." Peter is furiously red, pale cheeks blotchy with rose, neck and the skin at the lip of his shirt a bright pink, eyes rimmed with tears. "I don't know if I can do it."
Lily takes Peter's hand in hers, and she speaks in a shaky voice: "Peter, if we fight together - if we fight together, nothing bad can happen to us."
The five of them fall silent, quiet until the dying sun sets and day becomes night. Night is warm and noisy, with bugs and waves and the sound of the occasional speedboat. Night is filled with more alcohol, the beers are opened and passed around, and the shot glasses lie in wait until this tension dies.
"This isn't how I pictured tonight," Sirius says, filling his wine glass with the rest of the vin jaune. "I pictured this kind of being more fun."
"I'm sorry," Peter says sullenly.
"Don't apologize, Pete," James says easily. "It's fine. It's just - don't forget, we're always with you. You don't have to go through this - thing - alone. We love you, man."
Peter nods and looks down at his hands as he fiddles with a cork.
"Shots, I think," James prescribes. "Lots of shots."
Sirius laughs. "Body shots?"
Almost immediately Remus, Peter, James, and Sirius burst into gales of laughter, laughing until they're crying, laughing until everything bad is swept far, far away. Lily knows this is another tradition, another ritual that she uncovers (like Chagnon studying the Fierce People), and she watches them like she's watching the insane; eyes wide open, slightly disturbed, fully engrossed.
She clears her throat. "Um, should I ask?"
"Just watch," Sirius says, still chuckling. He takes one of the full shotglasses and looks at James expectantly.
With a grin, James pulls off his T-shirt and leans back against the table, his body rigid, diagonal plane that forms a right-angle triangle. Thin and flexible, James leans back with his hips so his shoulders are nearly parallel to the surface of the patio table, his hands reaching back and supporting him in a strange kind of limbo. Sirius maneuvers in and, planting a comfortable hand on the flat of James' tummy, carefully empties the shot glass into the shallow divot in James' chest.
"You can't be serious," Lily says, spluttering on her beer.
"Of course I'm Sirius." He grins, a grin that James matches, and Lily (not for the first time) wonders how she came to love either of these grinning Reynards. Very gently, almost gracefully, Sirius leans down and lowers his face to James' chest - he seems to embrace his friend, arms stretching around him like an enormous spindly drinking cup, and he brings his lips closer to the divot, sliding the very tip of his tongue across the stretch of pale skin, flicking devilishly at James' nipple before resting on the lip of bone before the indent. Peter is smiling and grimacing in one, while Remus is shaking in fits of silent laughter. Lily just stares, not quite sure what to think. With a strange kind of deftness, Sirius slips his tongue into the liquor, and with one long, violent sip shoots the vodka and swallows it easily before bursting into loud, spluttering laughter.
"I cannot believe you just did that," Lily says, with amused disgust. "That is the - the gayest thing I have ever seen."
"Go on, do one," Sirius says, nudging her in the arm. "Make him straight, if you want."
"Yeah!" Peter says brightly. "Come on, Lily."
"You people are weird." She jokes, but she feels compelled to join, cherishing the invitation into their inner circle.
"Go on," James says, wiping away the spilled vodka from his neck and shoulders. "Make me straight."
"Only if everyone else does one." She likes the symmetry. Remus nods appreciatively, warm and woozy from his wine, and Peter just looks a little stunned. "Peter - you do one, I do one." She winks at him, which seals the deal. "All right, c'mere you poof."
Sirius pours another one into the shallow cavity, and Lily lowers herself to him. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she says, laughing. "You people are insane." She looks at the shot and tries to reason with it - how exactly can she do it? Like Sirius, she supposes. So she brings her lips to James' chest and, with a great slurp, takes and swallows the shot in one, coughing as it goes down.
"Oh God, it's as disgusting as it looks!" she cries, laughing and wiping her mouth.
"All right, James," Remus says, swaying over to him. "You human cup, you."
Sirius does the honours again, and Remus leans in, deftly taking the shot and swallowing it easily, chasing it with a grin. Sirius pats Remus on the back jocularly, and then quickly (looking quite flustered and self-conscious) slips an arm around his waist, tucking his fingers under the lip of Remus' shorts.
James stands, stretches, and goes back to his yoga-like position. "All right, c'mere Peter."
Peter stumbles over, looking a bit like he's wandering through a dream, that vague hazy look in his eyes. "I'm not - you don't really -"
"Yes really," James says. "Come on, Wormy."
"Don't call me that," Peter says, flushing pink.
"All right, but come on, my arms are getting tired." So, reluctantly, Peter comes over, and Sirius, like some priest in this bizarre ritual, pours the shot. Gently, carefully, Peter leans in, and (almost like he's sipping a fine wine) he drinks the shot, swallowing it and grimacing amidst the laughing cheers and applause of his friends.
"We're booze brothers now," Sirius says, passing James a towel and filling another five shots. "And James is our goblet."
"Gee, thanks," James says.
Sirius passes the shots around, and with a group cheer of 'the Marauders' they down the drink and flop back in their chairs, sipping on their beers and welcoming the warm wave of drunkenness. From this point on, the night gets hazy, like sun through the trees - more drinks are had, and even more cheers; more drinks, and . Exchanges of kisses and all transgressions are forgiven; Remus and Sirius sit close together and hold hands like a teenage couple; James and Lily do the same; when Peter says he feels left out, the cavalry come and give him bear hugs and kisses on the lips that makes him splutter and he swears happily and says he'll never, ever complain again.
"So," Sirius says, now well into a new bottle of whiskey. "What was your best orgasm?"
This gets laughs, but Sirius seems earnest so they subside into thought.
"Best orgasm?" James says finally. "Okay - well, oh shit, fuck, Sirius, you're going to hate me -"
"I already do."
"Ha ha." James steadies himself, steadies his mind. "Okay. My best orgasm was. Um. Fuck, it was in - it was maybe kind of in your - in your car."
"In my car?"
James nods. "Yep. Last week."
"With who?"
"Lily, you berk."
Sirius is on the verge; his expression is unreadable, drifting easily between anger and hilarity. "you're serious?"
"No, you're Sirius."
"You cheeky fucking bastard. In the Red Baron? You had sex in our Red Baron?" Sirius laughs, and kicks James in the shin under the table ("Ow - you fuck!") "Man, I wanted to christen her." He pouts, but it's all love.
"You're not angry?"
"Course I'm not angry. She's your baby too. I just hope you cleaned up after. I don't want to wallow in your juice."
"Ew, didn't need that image, thanks," Peter groans, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. "Ew."
"What's yours, Lily?" James asks, turning to his girlfriend. "Okay, okay, no - uh, truth, promise to tell he truth?"
"Course," Lily says, nodding.
James takes a deep breath. "Who was the better fuck - me, or Sirius?"
She laughs, which makes everyone else laugh. Lily smiles and she rubs James' hand affectionately. "Despite the fiasco, you each have your own charms."
"But who made you feel better?" Sirius asks, all jokingly suave. "Who filled you with desire?"
"Well, when you fuck," Lily says to Sirius," you say other peoples' names." She does an impression: "Unh, unh, unh, Lily - Lily - unh - Remus - Remuuuusssssss -"
Everyone laughs while Sirius goes bright pink.
"Aw, you thought of me?" Remus jokes, rubbing his shoulder affectionately. "I'm touched."
"Way to fucking go, Sirius," James says, giving him a friendly punch. "You stupid cocksucker."
"And you," Lily says, turning to him. "You're the most dour fucker I've ever seen." She scrunches her forehead and thrusts with her hips, giving deep, monotone grunts, which makes her audience cackle gleefully. "It's like you need total concentration." Now it's James' turn to go pink, while Sirius punches him in the shoulder. "You need to loosen up, babe. Get more creative. I mean, you freaked out when I tried to finger you and look how that turned out -"
"You fingered him?" Sirius asks, his eyes wide.
"Just a little," James replies, squirming in his seat. "It - it wasn't bad."
"She learned that from me!" Sirius says, really red and drunk. "I asked her to do it and she freaked out."
They erupt in laughter, all five of them, because that's what happens with veins full of wine and hearts full of cheer. Lily kisses James, and Remus kisses Sirius and they look at Peter eagerly, waiting for him to complain (he doesn't, but they kiss him anyway.)
"Okay, Remus, best orgasm?"
"Me?" Remus says, biting his lip. "But - er - I haven't really -"
"Surely you've had at least one," Sirius prods.
"I - okay." Remus steels himself, and speaks: "In fifth year. A blowjob. That was my best orgasm."
"Oh-ho!" Sirius says, patting him on the back. "You little minx. Who from?"
"Um." Remus laughs, and looks at Sirius with a smile. "You, actually."
Silence. "Me?"
"Lily's birthday. You were so, so drunk. I was kind of drunk too. But you were really drunk."
"I - I don't remember that at all." Sirius looks at Lily, to James and Peter, back to Remus. "Are you serious?"
"No, you're -"
"Fucking hell, if someone says that again, I swear to God -
Remus scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. "Well, I'm serious. It was - well. Uh. You - swallowed."
Sirius pales. "I'm never drinking again."
James nudges him. "Too late."
Sirius pauses, tapping his finger to his lips as he digests the information. "Well - uh - did you like it?"
"Yes, actually. It was - you were very good. Kind of bite-y, but top notch, thumbs up."
Well, that's all right then, and Sirius grins. "Good. I aim to please. Did you get me off at least?"
Remus' cheeks go bright pink. "I - tried, but you kind of… fell asleep."
Gales of familiar laughter, more kicks under the table and more punches to the shoulder. Sirius kisses Remus, this time full and wet and biting, with displaced passion and lovely handwork. Sirius growls: "I guess you owe me one. You'll have to finish me off later."
"Cigarettes?" James interrupts, handing around his pack. The company indulge easily. "Peter, your best?"
"My best?" Peter pouts a puff of smoke and settles in his chair. "Seventh year. With whatserface. Skeeter."
"No fucking kidding," Sirius says. "Rita. You fucking dog, you. She had the most amazing boobs. Annoying as all hell, but Lordy, those boobs. What'd you do?"
"Lost my virginity," Peter replies, a bit proudly. This elicits backslaps and well-dones, jovial punches in the arm and demands of another round of drinks; Peter glows under the admiration.
This leaves Sirius. "And you?"
Sirius answers easily, like he's thought about this a lot: "April 3rd. This year. In my dormitory. With my hand."
"Your best orgasm was - was masturbation?" James says, in disbelief. "But - but all the girls! All the people you've messed around with! What's so special about April 3rd?"
"That was the day He - the holy one, the most beautiful man on earth, and my boyfriend - joined The Sex Pistols. I got the magazine, it had a full-page spread of him in these tight little jeans and that body of his. Fuck, best orgasm of my life."
"You came to - to Sid Vicious?"
"Twice."
"But - he looks just like you. You could be twins, we all said it -"
Sirius nods. "Exactly. It was sex with someone I love."
"You - you arrogant little fuck," James says, amused. "That was my magazine! Though, I should have guessed. When I tried to read that magazine, the pages were all stuck together."
"This hand knows me better than any man," Sirius says, touching his own cheek affectionately. "And Siddy. Well, Siddy is just untouchable. What a man. What a fucking man."
"And all this time you claimed you weren't gay," Remus says, cocking an eyebrow. "It seems we have evidence to prove the contrary."
"You talk funny when you're drunk," Sirius says, slapping Remus' knee. "And I'm not gay. I'm just histrionic."
"Really, that's you in a nutshell," Lily says warmly. "Histrionic and horny."
Peter, who had been filling the shot glasses once more, passes them around once again. "To being histrionic and horny," Peter says, raising his own. He is joined by his friends and they down another, sending them all reeling and spinning, their heads a mess of thoughts and love.
"You think," Sirius begins, a new thought, "you think that people will write books about us? Stories, I mean?"
"About us?" Remus asks, pushing his hair back. "Why would they write about us?"
"I don't know. We're interesting as fuck, though. We could be important."
"Who would want to write about a bunch of stupid teenagers?" James asks.
Sirius shrugs. "Maybe when we're older. Veterans of the war and heroes of the earth."
"Would you want someone to write about you?" Lily asks, opening another beer. "Wouldn't it be a little weird?"
"Course I'd want someone to write about me." Sirius nods. "So long as I'm the leading man and die a dramatic death."
"Don't talk about that," Remus says with an odd swagger, maybe something he borrowed from Sirius. "We're all going to live forever, aren't we?"
"Course," James says, nodding sagely. "Teenagerdom is eternal."
"The eternal pimple," Lily adds.
"To living forever," Sirius says, raising his glass. It's a bit odd; it's not a cheerful toast, not one of their jokes, not amused or excited, not drunkenly proposed or stupidly thought of. It seems almost poignant, like there's something more to it, a foreboding tone in Sirius' voice that speaks of the war and speaks of his family (old and new), like he's stuck on something difficult to realize. The rest of his friends realize this, and they raise their glasses in solemn unity; Cheers, they say, and drink their drinks.
As if on cue, thunder rumbles in the distance, the beginning of one of those night storms, the ones that rage at midnight and vanish by morning.
"Ooh, foreboding," James says.
"It's a pathetic fallacy," Remus says, nodding. "Like the storm in King Lear. It's the coming battle. And this is the calm before. Appropriate, I think."
"Fuck it. We're together, so who cares?" Sirius says grandly, drunkenly.
James nods. "Who cares."
"Who cares," Lily agrees.
Remus nods. "Who cares."
And, last but not least, Peter, with a small smile: "Who cares."
Their beers are empty, the wine is done; the vodka is finished, the cigarettes are smoked. Their heads are filled with storms and war, with orgasms and kisses and the French language and Serge Gainsbourg's music. It's all about not caring (fuck it); it's all about swirling and twisting and not being able to stand upright without laughing and clutching a friend's shoulder and collapsing on the stone patio in a warm, comfortable heap. It's all about being nearly naked and kissing your best friends in muggy heat. That's all it's about. No big plot, no big strategy; no politics, no philosophy; no religion, and no war; no meaning, no purpose, no climax, no denouement; no warnings, no danger, no peace, no thoughts; no big literary purpose, no small personal promise - just this, these people, right here.
When it starts to rain, they go inside.