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Waking Up


The next day was the first of holiday - and as people were boarding the Hogwarts Express there was an absolute explosion of rumors. People ran from compartment to compartment, spreading the story of what had happened, a duel between James Potter and Severus Snape. People were popping into the Marauders’ usual compartment, looking for Peter Pettigrew there to confirm or deny all that they’d heard.

Peter hated all of the attention - he was used to Sirius or James taking the spotlight whenever the Marauders were the center of the attention. But Peter was on the Express all alone - Sirius and Remus both were staying behind at Hogwarts and James had been taken to St. Mungo’s during the night. He used his wand to lock the door and sat in the corner, balancing his crystal ball on his lap and staring down at the image of his mum in the reflection, his mind far away from the clunking of the train wheels on the tracks.

He had tried to keep it a secret how often he’d been staring into the crystal ball - not that it was hard to. After all, James and Sirius so rarely paid him any attention that he could sit right before them peering and they’d never know what he was up to. Remus was a bit harder to hide it from - but even he tended to let Peter be unless he had a reason to be concerned with him - after all, it was much more work keeping up with the manic personalities that they played opposite to, and recently Remus had been far too caught up in his own sinking depression to notice Peter’s…

Nobody had really noticed it.

It wasn’t unusual, after all, for Peter to be quiet as the other three talked loudly and boastfully.

It wasn’t unusual, after all, for Peter to sit quietly, alone, studying in the common room, apart from everyone else.

It wasn’t unusual, after all, for Peter to be left behind or forgotten as the others rushed on ahead between classes or out to the quidditch pitch or down to breakfast if he wasn’t ready yet.

It’d always been that way, ever since first year - ever since they’d been assigned their dormitory and Bilius Weasley had led them away up to Gryffindor Tower after their first ever start of term feast. Even then, Peter had scrambled to keep up with them. So it hadn’t been hard for Peter to sneak away to meet with Madam Pomfrey to get a happiness potion to help improve his outlook, which had been so grim after losing his mum. They’d barely noticed what a struggle he’d had with getting back to his feet, and nobody had bothered turning into a dog to come make him feel better when he’d cried himself to sleep at night...

All summer long he’d sat about at home where the memory of Honey Pettigrew had been so tangible that he’d have sworn her ghost was in the room… Cecil, his father, had barely acknowledged his existence (seemed this was the norm for Peter everywhere he went now) and, as far as he knew, even now, nearly a year later, Maggie still had never said a word…

Peter froze, looking up from his crystal ball.

But… that wasn’t true, was it? Maggie had said a word. Maggie had muttered words one night… back at the end of last term, right after their mother had been killed on Diagon Alley… the night before he’d gone back to Hogwarts..... And a chill went through him suddenly and he clutched the crystal ball harder in his hand, recalling the scene… and suddenly there it was, unfolding in the crystal before him… He could see the stairwell of his parents house, the framed photographs that lined the walls, all the smiling copies of himself and Maggie and Cecil and Honey, all from different days - different years - chronologically describing their lives… He’d been on his way up when she’d spoken, her voice a raspy, soft whisper from the living room, where she’d been sitting, staring at the coffee table… Mopsus sees all, she’d said.

Mopsus sees all?

Sickness ran through his stomach. But they hadn’t met Professor Mopsus yet. They wouldn’t have met him for another several months, when he’d been hired on by Dumbledore… Back in March, there was no reason for Peter or anyone else to know who Mopsus was. None. Especially not for a squib like Maggie.

Peter suddenly wished very desperately that Sirius was there - or really anybody else that wouldn’t find him positively mental… How in bloody hell had Maggie heard the words that the new Divination teacher spoke? Unless… unless she’d met him somehow… unless… Peter thought wildly. Was it possible that Professor Mopsus had been a witness to Honey Pettigrew’s murder?

Suddenly there was a banging on the door, waking up Peter from his thoughts and the crystal went bumping out of his hands to the floor as he jumped, looking up at the compartment window. There, through the one of glass, stood Annalee Mckinnon, waving and smiling at him as he scrambled to get the ball up from the floor...




“Moony… wake up.”

It was a little after eight in the morning and other than a quick, murmured good-bye when Peter had gone dragging his trunk out of there a bit after seven, neither Sirius nor Remus had moved at all since Sirius had come back to the tower, long after midnight, and Sirius had drug Remus up the dormitory steps and into bed. True to his word on the stairs, Sirius had got Rey all tucked in… and climbed in beside him.

It had felt odd at first, purposefully crawling into bed with Remus, both of them in their human forms from the start… but Remus had been just sleepy enough that the apprehension had burned off already so that when Sirius had climbed into bed with him, Remus had immediately moved into the hollow of Sirius’s shoulder, pressing his cheek against Sirius’s chest. Remus, though taller, fit perfectly against Sirius, so that if he bent his knees, which he’d always naturally done in his sleep anyway, he fit in the crook of Sirius’s body, cradled in the protection of his arms. They’d slept this way through the night.

Now, Remus felt Sirius’s lips upon his forehead and the gentle swipe of his hair out of his eyes.

“Mooony,” Sirius whispered.

“Hmm?” Remus hummed as Sirius slipped his arm from beneath Remus’s head and leaned over him, staring down at him, and Remus sleepily cracked his eyes open slightly…

“We’re alone,” Sirius whispered.

Remus was still sleepy, just staring up at Sirius with a softly contented smile upon his face. So Sirius bent low and kissed his nose, right over the scar, softly, and Remus laughed a tiny bit through his nose… his lips curling slightly at the edges as Sirius kissed along the line of Remus’s freckles and a bit on his cheek. “Moony, Moony, Moony,” he whispered in a sing-song voice as he did it between kisses, each one feeling more natural than the one before it, as though he’d kissed this skin a hundred times, as though he’d kiss it a hundred thousand times more, everyday for the rest of his life would’ve been fine with him. He felt as though he could never get enough of Remus and his skin. Softly, Sirius kissed over Remus’s chin and down his neck to the soft triangular spot where his collarbone met his neck and shoulder and…

Remus giggled and pushed Sirius’s shoulder, “That tickles… stop that,” he said, biting his own lower lip and waking up a bit more and Sirius sat up, having succeeded at his mission of waking Rey up. Sirius grinned down at him as Remus stretched his arms and legs, yawning largely and rolling onto his side so he could twist and crack his back… He’d slept so bloody soundly, he couldn’t recall a single dream the whole night through. He looked at Sirius, “What do you want, Padfoot, waking me up so bloody early?” he smirked.

Sirius whispered, “Sledding.”

“Sledding?”

He nodded. “It’s brilliant. You’ll love it. C’mon,” and he scrambled out of bed, hopping foot to foot as he watched Remus slowly roll out of bed as he collected the Marauder’s Map from the desk, where it had been left laying the night before...




James woke up with a start - his instinct to grapple for his wand - to counter-curse Severus Snape, and he panicked when he opened his eyes, still bleary without his glasses, to the bright white unfocus of the hospital ceiling and the soft touch of a mattress and blanket about him instead of the stone floor. He’d seen Snape staring down at him - it was the last thing he remembered. The dizziness had coursed through him, a feeling of depletion, and Severus Snape’s voice, screaming desperately for help…

“Shhh, shhh, son, it’s okay, it’s alright. Dad’s here, James. Dad’s here.” And a strong hand lay across James’s shoulders, forcing him to still… “Shhh. It’s alright…” Through the blur of unfocusable eyes, James could almost make out his father’s face, even obscured as it was by the large dragon scales these days. A moment later, a pair of glasses were slipped onto his nose and James blinked the world into focus from behind them, his eyes swivelling about. “You’ve got to stay calm, Jamesie.”

It’d been forever since Charlus had called him Jamesie…

James tried to sit up, but Charlus stopped him quickly, “You’re also going to need to hold still, son,” he said apologetically.

James looked down the incline of his chest - a half a dozen pillows propping him up a bit, and great, thick bandages wrapping about him. They looked wet and sticky and a bit pinkish, as though they were absorbing blood and James suddenly recalled the spray across Severus Snape’s nose and the look of horror on the other boy’s face… “Wh - what happened?” he asked, his voice raw. “Where am I, dad?”

“St. Mungo’s,” said Charlus, gently. “You were hurt at school, son... but it’s going to be alright… your healers are working very hard at helping to get everything fixed up in a jiff.” It hurt taking in large breaths and James winced as he did so quite without thinking and Charlus whispered, “Easy, son, easy…”

Then there was a Healer, as though Charlus’s words had summoned her, and James stared up at her… She had green eyes, similar to Lily’s, and she smiled and softly ran her fingers over James’s bandages, asking him to tell her when it hurt when she pressed against him and James nearly forgot to say ow. The healer’s hair hung in a long ginger ponytail, too, resting across her cheek and nearly touching his chest when she reached over him this way… The healer carefully replaced the bandages and gave him a bit of a potion that would make the wide gash that stretched across James’s chest heal better and with less scarring and James gulped it down.

“Where’s mum at?” James asked, peering up at Charlus.

“She’s apparated home for just a wee bit,” he said, “She’d been here all night, ever since Dumbledore sent us his patronus about what happened…”

James nodded.

“One of your Professors was here,” he said. “She left this for you…” He reached down to a little table beside James’s bed and he lifted a small glass deer from the stand and put it gently into James’s hands. James turned it over. “She said to tell you to remember who you are.”

James stared at the little deer. “Professor McGonagall,” he whispered, knowing instantly. He thought about his tea cup on her shelf and he smiled and closed his palm around the glass deer.




“Are you ready, Moony?” Sirius asked.

Remus had his hands over his eyes. He shook his head.

Sirius laughed. “Alright. Let me know.” They sat there several long moments, and Sirius shifted his weight a few times, “Moony… are you ready yet?”

“Nooo,” Remus said.

They’d got the mattress and positioned it on the stairs… Sirius had talked Remus into sitting in the front, as the one in the back did all the steering of the thing, he said… and also because he’d wanted Remus to sit against him, as he was doing. His eyes sparkled and he rested his chin on Remus’s shoulder. “Moony,” he whispered thickly, his voice seductively…”

Remus shook his head.

Sirius smirked and reached out to run his hands over Remus’s shoulders. “Rey,” he whispered, “Trust me.”

Remus took a deep breath. “You’re right,” he said thickly, and he lowered his palms from his eyes. “OH bloody hell,” he grimaced, “You’re sure you’ve done this?” he asked, “And McGonagall doesn’t care?”

“Well, I s’pose doesn’t know is more the word, but --”

Remus winced.

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt us,” Sirius pointed out.

“Unless we literally get hurt doing this,” Remus corrected.

“We won’t get hurt,” Sirius promised.

“But --”

“Remus,” he implored him, “Trust me.”

“Alright.”

“So you’re ready then?”

Remus took a deep breath and clutched onto the edges of the mattress. “Y -- yes.”

“Alright then, in three.. Two… one... “ And Sirius pushed off the edge of the top step, the mattress soaring down the staircase.