Magnetized Alignment 2/2
Back to Part One
It's Friday afternoon and James Potter is on a mission. He saunters down the Music Wing with Peter trailing after him. They look into each practice room and move on until they find what they are searching for.
James looks into the second to last door, which is left ajar. The afternoon light is falling into the room like rivets of water over pebbles in a stream. Sirius Black stands in the center of the room, his violin balanced and played with a crisp accuracy. He is in his trousers and white Oxford, although he has undone the buttons at his chest and cuffs. The shirt hangs open and the sleeves are rolled up past his elbows. His hair, longer than regulation, is pulled back with his green-striped tie, but strands of his ebony hair escape at angles all about his head and are tucked behind and around his ears. Even that cannot hold them, the tendrils shake free as certain cords are played with a feral ferocity.
He can't help but look at the aristocratic boy; James feels that planetary tug that he has come to associate with being in the same room with Black. The tingle of wrong-trousers sifts backs into his spine and he can't help but shiver.
Black's robe has been discarded and Lupin has spread it out beneath him as his own personal cushion. Lupin's head is pillowed up on his History of Magic textbooks. He looks like he is watching his lover and waiting for that partner to return to bed. The sunlight graces Remus's hair with the same golden light that gilds the fine dust hanging in the air.
The music dances out over the room, hanging warm and languid like a wine induced haze on a summer's night. Black's playing is meticulous and accurate, however, is entirely played for Lupin's pleasure. Lupin, James notes with a smirk, is more interested in looking at Black as if he were a course of a meal than actually enjoying Mozart. Then again, if Lupin is pulled to Black with that same static-charge that James feels, James can understand the staring.
James shoves the door, forcing it open wide. He hears the doorknob hit the wall behind it, but his attention is focused on Lupin. While James knew that Sirius was creative with his hexes (he had once come away from a duel with perfect, golden ringlet curls), it was no secret that Lupin was the year's best Defense student. James knows that Remus could hex him long before he could get a good handle on his own wand. The music ends abruptly.
"What do you want?" Black snaps, lowering his bow so that it nearly swipes at the ground. Lupin has turned onto his hip, his hand only a hair away from his wand at his hip. James feels like he is watching some sort of Muggle gunslinger Western film.
"We need your--could we, maybe, please--?" Peter stammers, a gesture that suggests that he is more worked up than frightened.
"What do you need our help for?" Lupin asks with a cold politeness. It almost as if he is speaking to a stranger who has unwittingly insulted his mother. Black remains absolutely motionless, violin still perched on his shoulder, Black signet ring reflecting against the polished wood of the instrument.
James steps into the practice room and pulls Peter in after him. Peter shuts the door without being asked to. Both Black and Lupin tense further.
"We need to know how to get into the Slytherin Common Room," James says without further explanation.
Later, Peter will ask him why he was so blunt. James will tell him it's because it's clear that Lupin and Black are prank-minded as well, but, in reality, it's so much more than that. It's that same axel-tilting awareness he has when he partners with Lupin in DADA class or reaches for creamed dandelion weed at the same time Black does in Potions. It's that incomprehensible longing to know them as brothers that he felt at breakfast earlier that week.
He wonders if Lupin or Black feel it, too.
But right then, Peter and he still need the Slytherin password in order to transfigure their green couches into tapioca.
"You knock on the door," Black answers with a clean enunciation and a twitch of his fingers on the violin's fingerboard.
"No," Peter says, clearly delineating the negation, "without anyone knowing."
Lupin is squinting at them both, "Too late for that," he says coarsely.
James is staring at Black. He is like some sort of Greek statue of the wild musician, hair escaping confinement, eyes defiant and wild.
"Like what you see, Potter?"
James expects this comment from Black himself, but it comes, instead, in the form of a warning snarl from Lupin. He breaks his eyes away from Black and alights on Lupin, who is moving from his lounge into a crouch and standing. The strain of muscles speak that Lupin is being possessive, as if he's a dog impeding on another's territory.
James can't help but wrinkle his forehead in confusion. He's heard the rumors about the Snake House's orgies and perverse relations, but these two seem so different than the rest of their House. They help lower years with their homework, they play and enjoy happy music, and they pull pranks--there is nothing perverse about them. Then James watches the roll of shoulder muscle under Lupin's Oxford shirt; he's a lanky fellow, but there are waves of robust power under that white cotton. He can't help himself from cataloging the similarities between Lupin's body language and the similar movements of Frank Longbottom after Winston Chase kissed his girlfriend last spring.
At Lupin's rising, Black moves to set his instrument in his case. Lupin stops him.
"No need for that, Sirius, I'm sure these gentlemen are on their way out. You should keep practicing, after all," Lupin's tone is still polite, but the set of his shoulders is still screaming defensive momma bear.
Black flexes a curious eyebrow at James, "Ah, then you best be off, I have to practice. Remus insists."
James looks past Lupin's taunt stance at Black's face. There is a slight humor etched into the boy's features, as if he approves of Lupin's reactions, but still finds them amusing.
James remains rooted on the spot. He seems willed to remain inert, be it simply stupidity, or hard headness for not having access to the Slytherin's domain yet, or maybe it is simply that caged, feral beauty of Sirius Black, or maybe the charismatic influence of Lupin's existence- he doesn't know.
Peter, however, is suddenly rash and dumb, "Unity Johnson says you two are poofs. That true?"
Lupin takes the moment to raise an eyebrow at Peter. When he speaks, his voice mirrors the incredulous tautness of his face, "Unity Johnson also claims Sirius is a werewolf."
James can hear Peter's jaw fall open. "Is that true?" the pudgy boy sputters.
"Depends who's asking," Black replies haughtily before raising his bow to the strings again and drawing out a series of heartbreaking notes.
Peter, however, bites yet again, "Me."
Black snorts his humor but plays on. Lupin however regards Peter with a polite contempt.
"My esteemed friend doesn't tend to take to direct questions well; he's quite skittish around strangers."
"Perhaps then," James says boldly, "you had better ask him. Both questions."
Lupin stares into James's face as if seeking out his integrity. The strain of his shoulders relaxes as he moves toward Black. Between them is practiced comfort.
"Sirius," he questions, a strange combination of sarcasm and mirth dripping from his words, "are you a poof posing as a Dark Creature?"
Black pauses in his ministrations of the lonely notes, lowers his instrument from his perfect pose, and in one fluid motion, grabs Lupin around the waist, pulls him toward him, and kisses him wild and amorously on the mouth.
Peter isn't the only one with his mouth hanging open this time.
When Lupin breaks their kiss, his ears are red with flush. Black doesn't seem to care and pauses to place a few soft pecks on Lupin's lips before turning and locking eyes with James, who is gaping like a carp out of water.
"Only for you, Remus," he replies, his dark, sensual tone seeming out of place in the sunlit room and out of character for the boy who had been practicing his violin only moments before.
Peter and James flee, laden with gossip and lust, but still lacking the password to a certain dungeon dormitory. As the door to the practice room falls shut after their exit, Remus leans into Sirius's shoulder, feeling sun-warmed cloth caressing his cheek, kiss- frenzied flesh brushing his forehead, and curve of violin scroll rubbing in his back.
"I don't like Potter looking at you," he grumbles against the starched fabric.
Sirius's chest rumbles with a laugh, "But I like how possessive you get when he looks."
-*-
Sunday is rough. The moon is hours from rising in full and possessive glory. Remus paces back and forth across their tiny room. He has heard that other Houses have more than two people to a room, but in true Slytherin fashion, they must be different.
Remus is exhausted. His muscles are taut and straining, as if he has run hundreds of miles and is still driven on and unable to rest. His head pounds; it aches when he moves.
Sirius is leaned over reading some Transfiguration text in preparation for his next assignment with the Animangus spell.
"Read to me," Remus says suddenly, his voice already more gravely than usual.
Sirius clears his throat and begins, "The wizard must find themselves in a plain of pure relaxation and clarity. With resolve and concentration the wizard must think of their reasons for transformation (see Chapter 7 on The Importance and Delicate Art of Runeing One's Intentions) and then repeat the phrase 'I transform for ___' substituting in the most powerful reason for the transformation."
Remus interrupts as he turns and paces away from Sirius, "I thought you were supposed to be reading about how to transform your mind into your animal form."
"I read that already."
"What did it say?" Remus asks without energy as the toe of his boot meets the wall and he turns again.
"I concentrate on the Runes on my right hand and then let the animal take over."
"Have you practiced?"
"Ugh..." Remus looks up at Sirius's sudden awkward response, "I did."
"And?" Remus stops pacing and meets Sirius's gaze.
"I peed on the door to Malfoy's room."
Remus laughs aloud but then looks confused, "Wait, why?"
"I think I'm a dog or a... coyote? Or something that would lift its leg anyway," Sirius grins.
"At least you're not a squirrel."
"Or goldfish."
Remus resumes his pacing until he feels Sirius behind him. Sirius falls into step behind him and then circles his arms around Remus's waist and changes his course, guiding him toward his own bed.
"You need to rest," Sirius says in a soft, airy voice near Remus's throat.
"Can't hold still," Remus replies, moving to loosen himself from Sirius's arms and continue his pacing.
Sirius doesn't let him off that easily. Instead, he tightens his arms and forces Remus to sit on his bed. Sirius pulls of his boots and kisses his brow.
"Lay back, yeah?" he asks and Remus does as has been requested.
Sirius climbs up on the bed beside Remus and begins to untuck his shirt tail.
"I have an idea how to relax you," Sirius mummers against Remus's neck as he begins to plant kisses.
Remus is about to make a comment about hormonal boys, but then Sirius's hands are beginning their exploration under clothing and Remus finds himself breathless instead.
-*-
James can't explain to Peter why it's so necessary to find out what Black and Lupin do, he can only articulate that it is. They're headed to the kitchens Sunday evening about five minutes until curfew when they see Black escorting Lupin down a lowly lit corridor. James can't remember precisely, but he is relatively sure that leads outside.
He pulls Peter under the Invisibility Cloak and they reroute their adventure to follow the other two boys. Lupin looks ill and drawn. He's leaning heavily on Black's arm. Black guides Lupin to a tapestry of a shepherd tending a flock of sheep. The boy in the tapestry bows low to both of them and Sirius returns the gesture before pulling the cloth aside to expose a door.
Lupin and Black exit the castle through the door quickly and James worries that he will lose sight of them in the time needed to wait before opening the portal and following them. When he and Peter do slide out into the night, Lupin and Black are walking in the dew-heavy grass toward the Quidditch pitch. James and Peter hurry to catch up, but both are surprised when Black leans down to retrieve a stick and carries it with him. James notes rather quickly that they have changed their heading and are now advancing on the Whomping Willow.
James is going to call out a warning when Black jabs at the tree trunk with the stick. After his third swipe, the tree stills. Peter gasps his surprise behind James. Lupin seems to be expecting the tree to do this and, instead of paying an attention to the plant, he seems to be looking with concern toward the horizon where the warm colors of dusk are casting a drowsy spell on the day. Black touches Lupin's cheek lightly with the knuckles of his hand. Lupin leans on Black again and with grim smile, Black and Lupin advance on the tree.
Peter and James scurry to follow them under the low branches. They see the tail of Lupin's cloak disappear under the roots of the tree, and they scramble after them, sliding on the steep incline of the packed earth. Black casts a lumos on his wand and they weave their way through a long, low ceiling tunnel in the ethereal gray light.
Periodically, Lupin will turn over his shoulder and glance at where James and Peter are hidden from sight. He squints into the hazy shadows of Black's wand light as if he knows they are there, but Black tugs him along, a constant, jostling reminder to keep moving. James is vaguely aware that the ground beneath his feet seems to be a gradual incline. Then Sirius is pushing up on the roof of the end of the tunnel and opening a trap door. He climbs through and then pulls Lupin up after him. He closes the door and James and Peter are thrust into darkness.
James and Peter wait for several long minutes before they try the entrance themselves. They open it as slowly and as quietly as possible. They peek out of the small space afforded for them to see and are rewarded with a dusty hovel illuminated by the last rays of daylight. James opens the portal wide and hauls himself up and out of the tunnel; Peter follows.
There is some additional light warring with the long shadows in the upstairs rooms, so the boys walk on quiet feet until they have climbed steps and passed long abused boards. The walls are raked with gauges, and the small reminders of furniture that remain in this abandoned place are nothing more than splinters and scraps of cloth.
The room they move toward, however, is in better shape. It is in shambles too, but it retains a certain quality of civility that the rest of the shack lacks. James and Peter linger in the doorway, watching the scene unfold before them. Black is helping Lupin out of his cloak and clothes. Lupin sits on a sagging mattress. Black folds the clothing and stores it in a drawer of the bedside table. He then turns back to Lupin and brushes his fingers through Lupin's hair with a measured and gentle tenderness.
"I'll be with you... even if I'm not," Black whispers and leans down to press a kiss to Lupin's nose.
Lupin only stiffens and groans.
"Go," he croaks. Black presses another kiss to Lupin's forehead and then leaves the bedside at a full run.
Peter and James are backpedaling, but Peter has never had natural grace. His feet hook on the hem of the cloak and he stumbles, falls, and trips James in the process. Black must hear their combined exclamations as they tumble to the floor, but he is not quick enough to avoid tripping on them. He falls forward, his hips colliding with James's shoulder.
Black scrambles up and reaches out to find purchase on whatever he's fallen on. He grabs a handful of cloak and James's hair and pulls. The cloak wrenches free and James yells with pain. James rubs at his scalp before looking up at Black.
Sirius Black is a pale boy, but in these growing shadows and in this moment of panic, he looks like the Undead.
"Oh, shit," he whispers.
Then Black glances over his shoulder to where Lupin has folded in on himself, hugging his knees and rocking slowly as if he's about to be ill. Black grabs James by the shoulder and Peter by the shirt collar and proceeds to pull them along with him as he runs down the stairs.
"Out!" he yells, shoving them toward the tunnel door, "Go!"
But James digs in his heels and shoves back, which forces Black to stumble.
"Why the hell should we go just because you command us to? We're not your underlings, Black," and with that James shoves Black again and heads back for the stairs.
"No! Potter! NO!" Black yells and runs at James.
Peter however is frozen on the spot where Sirius quit bodily moving him. It takes a moment for James to hear what has made his friend so still, then he hears it too. The moan of pain, then the ragged breathing, and then... then... the sound of... a fork on a dinner plate or dry sticks being snapped in half.
Then screaming. Blood curdling screaming.
Black pales again, a child freshly woken from a nightmare, with widening, watering eyes and a gasping, trembling mouth.
"Is that Lupin?" James yells, rounding on Sirius, "What the hell are you doing to him, you pervert?"
Then James pounds up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Black is screaming at him and running along behind him, but James will not tolerate this. No one will stand back and be tortured while he can do something about it. At the head of the stairs his breathing is uneven and his heart is pounding like it's doing the cha-cha in his ribcage. He throws himself into the bedroom and stops short when his eyes rest on Lupin.
There is moonlight pouring into the room between the slats of the boarded up window. On the bed, screaming in pain, Lupin's body twists and contorts, snaps and reforms. Fur sprouts. Fangs sharpen. Paws form.
Then Black grabs him by the shoulder and yanks him back toward the stairwell.
"Run, you fucker! Run!" Black yells and they're stumbling over one another as they escape down the rickety steps.
The howls stop abruptly and then there is the sound of weight falling onto the floor and James knows that the wolf--the werewolf-- is coming for them. Black is looking over his shoulder and pushing a stumbling James down another step.
Then there is a sensation of something behind him and it prickles at the hair on his neck. And Black is turned and slowing. He grabs onto James's bicep and clutches his wand and yells, "jump!"
They do, leaping off the stairs from its middle, with only Sirius's levitation charm to slow their decent. They still impact with a jarring thump, but there is the sound of awkward paws and claws on wood scrambling down after them and they're running again for Peter and the trap door.
Peter's eyes are open wide and he's unable to react beyond that. But the clatter of toenails is only a few stairs away and James raises his wand at the wolf and yells an incantation.
"Stupi--"
But Black's fist intercepts with James's jaw and his words are cut short.
"That's REMUS, you fucker!" Black screams, a storm's violent fury loosed in his eyes replacing the terrified child.
Then he pushes the staggering, bleeding James into Peter and he's turning back to the snarling werewolf that is charging at them. Who is only a small cry away from them.
James hears him repeat, again and again, a strange death prayer, "I transform for my love, I transform for my love," and his mantra is sounding more and more fearful as he strides forward toward the wolf.
James makes to scream a warning at Black around his bloodied lip, but he falls silence when magic crackles in the room. There is the sound like someone has let out a deep exhale and the world around Black swirls, like the funnel of water draining from a bathtub. And in his place is a gigantic, black dog.
The werewolf stops his advance, but locks his legs and lowers his shoulders. He issues a low, ferocious growl at the dog, who whines in response.
James waits no longer before turning on his heel and running. Peter and he drop down into the tunnel, pull the trap door shut, and run down the tunnel, feet banging the earthen walls and head's ramming into tree roots. There is nothing pursuing them, but they still run as if there is.
Peter is gasping desperately behind him. Sweat is rolling down the collar of James's shirt. He thinks that he or Peter or maybe both have wet himself; he can smell urine in the air. That stench reigns in the stale, cool air of the tunnel, but James can smell newly set night and starlight so they must be nearing the end. Sure enough, the ground begins to ascend and they claw their way out of the tunnel and into the night lit campus of Hogwarts.
Peter kicks at the tree trunk until his boot collides with a knot and the Willow stills. The boys run out from the still vines and hurry, nearly blindly, until they collide with something and then one another.
Albus Dumbledore stands still and unmovable in their path. Poppy Pomfrey and Minerva McGonagall are at his side. "Where is Sirius?" McGonagall gasps, looking beyond the two boys.
"He--he--transformed!" Peter sputters, still wheezing for air.
"He's an Animagus, but Lupin is a--" James cries, trying to get his anger and terror across.
"--that will be quite enough, Mr. Potter. If you and Mr. Pettigrew would follow me to my office please," Dumbledore rumbles, leaving no room for argument.
Peter casts a weary glance back toward the tree, but James is fixed on the spot.
"YOU KNEW!" he yells, anger spilling from his words.
Dumbledore turns back to face James and the Willow. He stares at James, his eyes searching the boy's face.
"Of course, my boy, of course I knew. I know of Sirius Black's family situation. I know of his studies to become an Animagi for his friend. I know that both Remus and Sirius should have been Gryffindors and shared your dorm room. I know--no, I wish that you four would be friends. I am old, Mr. Potter and I know many, many things."
James's mouth falls open. Lupin and Black were supposed to be Gryffindors? It seems unlikely. But then, in the clarity of terror and clean, night air, James wonders if that isn't a lie. Black just defended and transformed on behalf of a werewolf--no, he did all that on behalf of his friend, or according to his chant, his love. James licks at the blood staining his lip. Sirius Black might be the bravest person he knows. And Lupin--Remus--is willing to live his life in the full knowledge of people's scorn for his affliction and his sexual orientation. That seems brave as well.
Peter looks ill but squeaks out, "I was supposed to room with a werewolf?"
Madam Pomfrey steps forward and speaks quickly and harshly, "Remus Lupin is more than that. He is an intelligent, kind young man. If your bigotry keeps you from seeing that, then you're a fool," she spits angrily.
"Poppy," Dumbledore says gently, raising his hand to restrain her.
He turns with a polite order toward the Head of the Gryffindor House, "Minerva, will you go and check on Mr. Black and Mr. Lupin."
"Of course," she replies, her Scottish accent thick with the late hour, "I hope that if he wasn't able to turn completely, that he at least changed himself into an object..."
"If he was bitten," Peter begins, looking back as Madam Pomfrey prods the Willow's knot with the stick Sirius had used earlier.
"Then Sirius Black will be a werewolf and Remus Lupin will be killed," McGonagall states with a clipped articulation and without pausing in her step, "Albus, please see that these students receive just punishment regardless of the outcome. I know that these two fools are of my House, but I feel I am too connected to this incident to be just and fair... however, Potter, Pettigrew, if Black is dead... and Lupin is killed... you will carry their deaths on your heads."
Dumbledore nods at her as she transforms into a cat and skitters down under the roots. James opens his mouth, but no words form. Dead. Black could be dead and Lupin will be killed for it. He opens his mouth again but Dumbledore speaks.
"Come along then, gentlemen we have several matters to discuss before dawn," he says and takes Pomfrey's arm, "They'll be fine, Poppy. Minerva will tend to both of them, tonight."
Pomfrey nods and wipes at her face with her fingertips. James's brain comprehends that she is crying because Lupin is a good person, but it is also coming to another conclusion, that the Head of his House is very correct. Lupin's death will be on his head.
-*-
Remus awakes in the Hospital Wing. He's achy and tired. He blinks at the bright daylight and wonders how he got into the Wing. He usually remembers some of the transformation and the exhausting trek back into the castle. He closes his eyes and then, after a lingering moment, opens them again. Sirius is not at his bedside. That is strange as well.
Madam Pomfrey appears in his field of vision.
"Hello, poppet," she says, affectionately, "how are you feeling?"
"Tired," he rumbles, and as he takes the vials of potions that she offers to him, he asks, "Has Sirius been here today?"
Pomfrey looks ashen for a split second and then moves to pull back the curtain that separates his bed from the rest of the ward. Sirius appears to be sleeping next to him. Remus tries to understand what this means.
"Someone hexed him?" he grinds out, wishing his voice didn't sound so raw.
"No, love," she sinks into the chair at his bedside, "Potter and Pettigrew followed you two to the Shack last night. They apparently wouldn't listen to reason and Sirius couldn't get them to leave..." there is anger tingeing into her voice.
"Oh, oh, Merlin," Remus's stomach is suddenly violent, seizing and throwing itself against his ribcage.
"No one was hurt," she continues hurriedly, "Potter and Pettigrew made it out because Black--Sirius transformed."
Remus freezes.
"He...he... what?"
"He completed his transformation last night. The youngest Animagus on the Continent, at the age of 15," and there is pride in her eyes, but also fear.
"He's... all right, then?" Remus can't help but hope.
"Yes, love. He's a little scratched and such, but I had to knock him out. He decided that he was going to beat the daylights out of Potter..." she says something else under her breath that Remus is fairly certain is "and he'd have deserved it."
They talk for a few more minutes and Remus, for the first time ever, can remember moments from his night as a wolf. Flashes of chasing a black tailed canine, of stalking a tabby cat, and of napping on the broken mattress, safely curled around that big, black dog.
Someone calls for Pomfrey and she excuses herself. Remus, muscles screaming in protest, climbs out of his bed and into Sirius's. In his sleep, Sirius snuggles down and brushes his nose into Remus's hair. Remus sighs, the warmth of Sirius's body easing the tired muscles in Remus's body and, he too, slides into a peaceful nap.
-*-
Tuesday morning it rains.
Potions is the first class that the Gryffindors have with Slytherin House since the incident at the Willow. Peter and James tentatively enter the moldy smelling room, neither is sure what to expect. Lupin and Black are sharing a table in the middle of the classroom, chattering with one another. They fall silent when they see the Gryffindors.
James slides into his usual seat next to Peter and chances a glance back over at the two Slytherin. He is startled to find both Lupin and Black are looking at him. There is that familiar prickle of connection when Black locks eyes with him. Then Black's gaze hardens and he mouths the words "after class" as Professor Yfel begins.
The lesson is interesting, but not enough so to keep his full attention. Peter fidgets the entire class and singes his own eyebrows off from his ineptitude and nervousness. At the bell, both linger in putting their caldrons away. They finally exit the room and wait for Black and Lupin.
In time, the two exit and stand directly in front of the two Gryffindors.
"Dumbledore told us you're sworn not to tell anyone," Black begins, staring James down.
"We took a vow of silence," James replies, meeting Black's gaze.
"If you say anything, that vow won't be the thing to be afraid of, Potter," Black growls, leaning in close. Peter whimpers from beside James's shoulder.
"Sirius," Lupin says, grabbing Black by the shoulder and pulling him backward, "knock it off." Black sniffs angrily and crosses his arms.
"Listen Potter, Pettigrew," Lupin begins, looking straight at James and then at Peter, "we have a decision here. You know our secrets, ALL of them. You can either run around with that as possible blackmail or you can... get to know us."
James knows his mouth is hanging open again, but he can't seem to help it.
"What do you say to a quick fly around the pitch after lunch?" Lupin asks while he extends his hand to James.
James stares at the hand presented to him, knowing full well what kind of hand it is. A Slytherin. A Dark Creature. A werewolf. A poof.
He takes Lupin's hand firmly and shakes it. Peter stiffens and chokes on a cough beside him, but hastily offers his hand too. Black smiles as Lupin introduces him, "I'm Remus Lupin and this is my boyfriend Sirius Black."
"And your dog, too, right?" James asks innocently.
Black's smile turns from polite to genuine as he begins to laugh. "Indeed, old chap, indeed."