Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1

The first thing that Remus was aware of was blood. Thick, metallic tasting, so blindingly _red_ - it plastered his arms and torso, coated his face, his mouth-

Then he remembered. Remembered the door slowly opening, the scent, the expression on the boy's face just before the wolf pounced-

And he remembered what came after. Shaking violently, he vomited, choking as he began to sob. Severus was dead, dead - dead because he'd killed him - dead-

The word alone brought bile to his mouth, and he threw up again. With his tongue tasting the twin horrors of vomit and blood, he rested his head against the floor and shut his eyes, no longer trying to fight the half-swallowed tears. He was a murderer, because someone was dead because of him - someone human-

There was a knock on the door. Remus wanted to tell Madam Pomfrey not to come in, but to just leave him to rot forever and ever, but he wasn't able to speak.

There was a sharp intake of breath, and she was speaking, speaking words that Remus could not comprehend. She was speaking another language - she was speaking English, and he was only suited to the howls of wolves.

He snuck a glance to the other side of the room, and heaved, spilling his last meal as easily as he had spilt Severus' life upon the ground. Oh god, oh god - he'd killed someone-

Madam Pomfrey had seemed not to see him, somewhere with - with the mess of blood and bone and hair that had had once been black. Remus could have told her that Severus was dead, because he remembered tearing open the pale, smooth throat with the glistening claws. Remus looked down at his hands, through his tears; underneath the nails was thick with dried blood, some still dripping the red as if it was Remus who was hurt, not the one that deserved to die. Not the one that was a murderer.

When Madam Pomfrey finally did reach his side, he could not look at her. He did not know what he would see in her eyes - hatred or disgust or anger - but he couldn't meet her gaze, like a person, because he wasn't - he was a filthy, vicious monster, a murderer-

Clothing him in his robes against the icy chill of the morning, the healer was cleaning the blood from his face, in the same soft, careful strokes that she always used. She shouldn't be being so gentle - he didn't deserve it, he was a monster.

"Please don't do this," he whispered, cringing back against the wall of the shack. "I don't deserve-" A gagging sob cut him off, and he shrunk away from her kind hands. "Please."

For a moment, he wasn't sure if she'd heard, but then she had moved and was cleaning him off again, just as tenderly as before. Remus could hardly stand her doing this, and a small cry escaped him as he shuddered down, trying to escape the kindness that made him feel human, because he wasn't, not at all. "Hurt me." The words cut his lips like broken glass, and he still tasted Severus's blood.

"No," a quiet voice murmured, and a thin wand passed before his eyes as it healed. "This isn't your fault, Remus, not your fault at all. You couldn't control it."

Remus shook his head, almost pleased at how much the action hurt. "I should have been able to. I - I - I _killed_ him, Madam Pomfrey-" Then the tears that he had been trying to fight down surfaced again, and he fell silent, shaking with the sobs that were almost as thick as blood. "I don't deserve to live."

The healer sighed heavily, the arc of her wand easing the soreness of his muscles. "Don't be ridiculous," she said softly, smoothing back strands of sandy hair. Remus cried harder, because she was so blindingly wrong, and he was almost glad that he would probably get the dementor's kiss for this, because he deserved worse-

"Remus, we have to get back to the castle. Dumbledore will handle it, it'll be alright." It was clear that she was trying to assure him, but her voice was sharp with worry. Remus knew that Dumbledore, saint as he was, would not be able to stop the Ministry from taking action, and his conscience was soothed somewhat at the thought of punishment. The monster that killed Severus needed to suffer.

Reaching up and scrubbing at his eyes with an already bloody sleeve, comforted by the sting, he slowly pushed himself up. Madam Pomfrey placed a hand around his waist, supporting him, and Remus was too weak to push her away. He tried not to look at the striking crimson smeared on her crisp white healer's robes as the pair limped up to the castle.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: To my dear, dear reviewers - this story has been bothering me for some time, begging me to write it, so I finally decided to take the leap, despite the busyness of the upcoming holiday. I actually considered putting off the posting of the first chapter for a time that was a bit less hectic, but when I got home after a very, very long day and found how many reviews and reads I had - Oh my gosh. It was incredible.

You all made my day. Seriously. And, to show my gratitude, I am putting off other responsibilities to complete this chapter for you. It's probably sub-par because of this, but I'm caught up in the beautiful euphoria of fame and nothing can stop me now.

Oh, yeah - I forgot to mention this in chapter one, even though I hope that you figured this one out on your own - if I was J.K. Rowling, I would selling this for a small fortune. I'm not.

x x x

_Shouting - flashes of brightly coloured light - the bubbling laughter of magic flinging between the opponents-_

_Snivellus stands before him again, sneering. He hates how the boy sneers, the way his sallow face twists into a horrible caricature of a smile, the way his black eyes glint. "Think you're such a bloody Gryffindor - cowards, all of you-"_

_More light, more curses - because he cannot allow the scum to say such things, not about him and not about the other Marauders. An unidentified spell hits his shoulder, and he hisses as the skin splits open, releasing blood in a thin trail down his arm. "You're the coward, Slytherin," he spits, as if Slytherin is the worst insult possible._

_The returning laugh is cruel, a warped imitation of happiness, and suddenly Snivellus is saying words - terrible words, words that make Sirius want to claw and scream and kill - words that ooze pain and anger and blinding shame. The curses are still flying, but the syllables of agony that Snivellus sends with them are almost worse - he can shield the magic._

_And when Snivellus looks him right in the eye and continues, the knives shooting right through him, leaving gaping holes in their wake - he can't see-_

_"worthless friend - that tree - expelled-"_

_The idea pours from his lips before he even knows it exists, shouting to Snape how he can find out what Remus does in that tree. The laughter is swelling within him now, making him lightheaded, because he knows that Snape isn't dumb enough to do anything that Sirius tells him to. But still, a part of him almost wants Snape to go._

_For Snivellus to die._

"Sirius! Wake up, Padfoot."

Sirius groaned, stirring slightly. Who is calling him? he wonders. Moony's in the hospital wing recuperating, no doubt, and James is never up this early, which leaves-

"You'll be late if you don't get up and get ready, Padfoot. Now."

"S'too early, Wormtail," Sirius moans, fighting his half-asleep muscles to pull him upright. Glancing at the clock on his bedside table, he discovers that Wormtail is right. It is time.

"Transfiguration is our first class, Sirius. McG will be out for blood if we're late to another class." Peter's voice held the convincing ring of desperate truth. Professor Minerva McGonagall was more concerned with lateness than most of the staff were, and it wasn't like she needed another reason to stick a Marauder in detention. Finding himself convinced (and not wanting to be in detention the day after full moon) Sirius stumbled from his bed and began the arduous process of finding clothes that were clean and at least halfway matched.

"Prongs!" Wormtail shouted across the room to the motionless lump on the nearby bed. "James, get out of that bed." Peter had apparently taken Moony's task of awakening the dormitory as his own - at least when Remus was incapacitated - storming to Prong's bed and jerking the curtains open. "Get up, James Potter!"

Predictably, James did not budge.

One thing about Peter - he could never be accused of not being thorough. He thought of every detail. James sputtered, shaking water from his eyes - awake now, Sirius noted smugly, despite the fact that he had had no part in Peter's method - squeaking indignantly, "You didn't have to dump water on me!"

Peter only chucked, and ordered James from the bed again. When James grudgingly complied, Sirius suddenly realized that he had been watching them for the good part of ten minutes. The lightning bolt of time shortage zapped at him as he hurried to ready himself for the day, listening to James and Peter argue playfully behind him.

x x x

"Peter! We've got Potions first!" Sirius cried, mourning the loss of perfectly good sleep as he stared at his schedule.

Peter grinned, ducking his head behind the pitcher of pumpkin juice. "How else was I supposed to get you up?"

James felt himself smiling in spite of himself. Peter was trying so hard to fill the gaping hole they all felt when Remus was missing. It had been easier the last few months, when they had accompanied him on his transformations, but then there was the time that they had lost control of him, two months ago, and Remus - martyring prat that he was - had forbidden them from coming with him. And he'd enchanted the entrance to the shrieking shack against them, to keep them from sneaking in when he was already transformed and could do nothing about it. Sirius had had an idea about coming in through Hogsmeade... There was always next month.

"James? Earth to James."

Jerking out of his thoughts, James stared blankly at Sirius. "What?"

Peter suppressed a snicker. Sirius flit his eyes softly, the faintest of smiles curling his lips. "Lily's looking very pretty this morning, isn't she?"

Monster. "Even if she was, would it make a difference? She's a prefect, Sirius." He wouldn't blush, he _wouldn't-_

"So's Moony."

"But Moony's... Moony. It works for him."

"Right." Sirius didn't bother to keep the sound of friendly contempt to seep into his words. "Keep telling yourself that, mate." Sirius then returned his attention to his sausages, most probably contemplating how they could be eaten with the absolute minimum exertion.

The students were beginning to file out - it was almost time for class. James bid Sirius and Peter an early farewell, and set off upstairs, in the opposite direction of the dungeons.

Remus didn't deserve to have to wait by himself in the hospital wings with only the starched sheets and jeweled potions for company.

x x x

A/N: I didn't get that chapter either. For some weird reason, I was suddenly unable to write anything deep. Think of it as a break before things get dark.

I may not be able to post very much - the writer's block aside, it's just hard to find time these days. And since my eyes are threatening to shut in the middle of this... I bid you good day.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Yes, I know I haven't updated in a while. I'm not incredibly happy with this chapter either, but I'm just waiting impatiently for the real fireworks to begin.

x x x

"James, what happened?"

James did not answer Sirius's question. He shook his head, ebony hair falling over the hands that covered his eyes, swaying slightly where he stood. Placing a hand on his arm to steady him, Peter realized that James was trembling.

"What happened?" Sirius repeated, sounding almost panicked now. James was never like this. Not ever. _Is he sick?_ Peter thought frantically. _Did the Slytherins get him?_ But even those explanations didn't make sense, because the Marauders had been through all that. This - this had never happened before.

James swallowed, letting out a small, choked noise. "He's dead," he croaked, dropping his head against the stone wall with an undoubtably painful _crack._ "He's dead-"

Sirius's face lost all emotion, concern and fear melting away into an inscrutable mask. "The hospital wing," he breathed, hands tightening on James's shoulders.

_Full moon last night._ The knowledge hit Peter like a ton of bricks, bashing any other thoughts from his mind. "Dead?" He squeaked, terrified that James would say that it was true. "Remus - Remus isn't-"

James shook his head again, pulling his hands away from his red-swathed face. The word seemed to drain him of any energy he had, whispered as he stared hollowly at the floor.

"Snape."

x x x

Minerva McGonagall considered herself a fair and honest woman. She carried out justice as well she could in the minor kingdoms she ruled - or she would like to think so, anyway. She hadn't yet come upon a problem to which there was no good answer.

That was before this disaster.

"Horace, do not think that we don't take the death of a student in your house seriously," she said, trying to stay calm, trying not to lose her temper. "We're all devastated by this tragedy. But the punishment of an innocent child-"

"Innocent child!" His mustache quivered as he scowled. Why was Horace being so unreasonable? She didn't understand it - she had always thought that Horace Slughorn was, while not one of her favourite people, a relatively good person. Perhaps there was a reason why Riddle had been one of his favourite students. "I do not consider a murder innocent."

Before Minerva could hex him into oblivion, Albus's hoarse voice cut in. "I understand your frustration, Horace," he said, and when Albus said it, for some reason, Horace nodded. As if he accepted Albus's offer of peace. Before Minerva could wonder why the same words coming from Albus instead of her were more effective (and come to the conclusion that it was because Albus was the Headmaster, and older, and with more calming a voice), he continued, "I think we all know that Remus Lupin is in no way guilty of killing Severus Snape. His condition is not within his control, and so punishing him serves no purpose. In fact, it would be inhuman to add to the pain I am certain that he feeling already."

"The Ministry won't share your views," Filius pointed out. _He_ was on their side, Minerva noted, as cheerfully as she could. Though, she had to admit that he had a fair obstacle.

Albus leaned forward slightly on his desk - a position that made him look even stronger and more capable than usual. "That is why I propose not telling the Ministry."

She could hear all five hearts beating rapidly in the sharp silence. What Albus suggested was illegal; the kind of illegal that resulted in Azkaban sentences. But Minerva had only to recall Lupin's contorted, agonized face to remember that this was a child of whom they discussed - a very mature one, but a child nonetheless.

"What will we tell Snape's family?" Pomona said at last, speaking for the first time, shattering the silence. "Their son is dead - they deserve the truth."

Albus's piercing blue eyes were steady, like stone. "But Remus Lupin does not."

No one had anything to say to that, so it was almost a relief to hear banging at the door. "Come in," Albus said quietly, tearing his gaze from the Heads of House to glance toward the disturbance.

"Professor Dumbledore, it isn't his fault, it isn't!" The staccato syllables of Sirius Black echoed harshly around the room. "Remus couldn't stop it - you can't let them kill him-"

"Mr. Lupin is not in any danger of death, Mr. Black. We fully understand the nature of his condition."

"They can't kill him, Professor, they just can't-" The boy was almost in tears now, as if he had not heard Albus's assurance. "_Please,_ Professor - it isn't Moony's fault - it _isn't-_"

_Moony_ - a name obviously affectionate - sliced at Minerva like a dagger. Why, she asked the ceiling angrily, did this have to happen to _them?_ She knew the Marauders (as they called themselves) well enough, being their head of house and assigning detentions at least twice a week, and it wasn't fair. None of this was fair.

"What did you say?" asked Pomona sharply, and Minerva jerked her attention back to the problem at hand. Her companions were focused tightly on Black, who choked out, "I told Snape how to get in. I didn't think he'd actually do it."

The room was suddenly frigid, the air thick and dragging at Minerva's lungs. "This is your doing?" Filius said, voice completely and utterly devoid of emotion.

To his eternal Gryffindor credit, Black did not deny what he had done. "Yes." His breath was hard, hacking, but it was difficult to feel sympathy whilst at the same time remembering that he had effectively caused a murder.

"Horace, don't," Albus said quietly. Fury was beginning to lick at the edges of Minerva's shock, and she forced herself to think rationally.

Looking at Albus, she didn't think that she had ever seen him appear so old before, so tired. Not lifting his head from where it was pensively inclined toward the desk, he murmured, "Please return to the Hospital Wing, Mr. Black. Your friends are undoubtably wondering where you are."

Minerva did not look back as the door shut. The new revelation complicated the mess, as if it hadn't been muddled enough already. Filius shook his head, looking at the ceiling - how could they have known that Black was capable of something like this?

In a voice as empty of life as the former Potions extraordinaire, Albus said, "We have only one option."

x x x

A/N: Sorry, evil clyffie. Even though you can kinda figure it out from earlier in the scene. Review! Reviews are my lifeblood!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I'm sorry that it's taken so long to get this chapter up. Between SATs and finals and my brother's incredibly involved birthday, I have a whole host of excuses to choose from. Apologies aside, here it finally is.

x x x

Voices. Sounding somewhere in the void that was above him, swirling into an everlasting black hole that Remus wanted to suck himself into.

"Albus-"

"But his parents-"

"The Ministry-"

Remus let go of the thin threads of noise, letting the tuneless buzz take them. They were of no importance. He'd be executed soon enough anyway - why bother listening to the goings on outside him? It had been nightmare enough, waking up to the blazing taste of red - walking to the castle - and finally being knocked out by one of Madam Pomfrey's foul tasting concoctions. He didn't mind the oblivion, really. It was quiet, calm, anonymous. The black hole didn't know he was a murder and didn't care.

"Moony-"

"I must insist-"

"You're not going to just-"

Tiny worms of shouting slithered in and out of his head. But they fell to the side abruptly. It was odd - Remus was aware enough to notice that - but by the time he'd noticed that, the hands gently shaking him awake were impossible to ignore. Not for lack of trying, certainly. Remus was not ready to wake up just yet. He was perfectly happy in the dark nothingness, thankyouverymuch, and he was planning to stay there for as long as he wanted.

But it was then that red-tipped claws flashed before his metaphorical eyes, and he released the last fistfuls of nonexistence. He was in no place to be making demands. Tugging his eyelids open, he looked at the people who, until last night, had been his friends.

A rainbow of faces stared worriedly down at him. James's face was red; Sirius's white; Peter's almost blue in the morning light. "You alright?" James asked quietly, almost ashamedly, as if he knew that he could hardly ask a dumber question.

Laughter foamed up inside his ribcage, like vinegar and baking soda mixing. Empty bubbles. But he kept it in. "What do you think?" he hissed, before instantly knowing that he shouldn't have. He kept _forgetting._ His eyes prickled angrily as he looked away, murmuring, "Sorry. I didn't-"

"It's fine," James said quietly, brushing away Remus's infraction like a stray bit of dust. "It was a stupid thing to say. I'm sorry." Remus could feel his gaze stroking softly over his face, like his mother's kind hands smoothing bitten and shredded flesh. _See? It's all better now. Everything's fixed._

But he wasn't seven anymore. Nothing could be fixed, because the dead were dead and not even the greatest wizard could raise them. No matter how much they might want to - how much they might need to.

"It's not your fault, Remus." Sirius's voice was surprisingly unsteady, but still fierce. Remus didn't think he'd ever heard Sirius sound like this - all cracks and shattered pieces and the salty sweet scent of tears. "It's not something you can control. You know that, Remus, so don't you dare blame yourself."

Blinking away the frustration gathering in the corners of his eyes, Remus risked a look upward. His words were calm, emotionless - the exact opposite of what he felt as he said them. "Who else killed last night?"

Sirius's face twisted oddly, crumbling in sections, and before Remus could wonder what was happening he was gone, fleeing the Hospital Wing as if pursued by ghosts. His fevered footsteps chased down the corridor, embedding themselves in an endless, orderless pattern in Remus's mind that lasted long after the sounds had died out.

Peter coughed, shifting. The silence was too choking, not distracting enough to fend off the monsters. Remus could see them, creeping in the corner of his vision, waiting for him to think so they could attack.

So he took the only venue of action he could, and let the darkness close over his head once more.

x x x

Footsteps echoed down the empty corridor. Mrs. Norris's ears pricked up at the sound - students were supposed to be in class now. She stepped forward delicately, peeping around a corner, ready to fetch Argus at any second to apprehend the brat.

However, this time the boy was with teachers. Mrs. Norris hissed angrily. She'd have liked to catch the little monster for almost six years now, but he regularly evaded her. He looked very upset, however; if she was lucky, he was in trouble.

Entranced by these joyous thoughts, she almost didn't notice Argus picking her up. She purred gleefully, unblinking eyes grinning at the morose parade. A rough hand stroked her fur, and Argus's voice whispered hoarsely in her ear, "Yes, my sweet. The little brat's finally getting what he deserves."

x x x

"Sirius - how could you?"

Sirius said nothing, turning his darkened eyes away, hiding his expression behind his too-long hair. James could see nothing on the bit of face he could see - no anger, no sympathy, no even guilt. _How can he not care? He's a murderer - where is his guilt?_ James was not aware of his fists clenching, jaw setting, back straightening with the forming power of his anger.

A moment later, Sirius stumbled back, not even lifting a hand to the sudden redness on his cheekbone that James knew would later turn to bruise. But punching Sirius had not released the anger within James; if anything, it made it worse, scraping away at his insides with an insatiable appetite. Sirius, and his stupid Black pride, who couldn't admit that he had messed up-

"Get out of here." Sirius did not move. Studying the floor tiles as if they held the secrets of the universe, it was as if he had not heard a word James said. "Get _out!_" He shoved Sirius back, trying to get him to move, trying to get him to _react_. But the same patch of floor remained reflected in his endless silver eyes, unblinking. James hissed, as if his anger could seethe out with his breath, and dove.

Sirius convulsed as the pair thudded to the floor and a fist crushed into his stomach, knocking the air from his lungs with a pleasing whoosh. James pounded his guilt and fury and hatred on the yielding body, snarling flame from his lips, _whumpwhumpmurdererwhump._ He was on fire now, every inch of him consumed in the inferno as he beat his best friend of six years into the floorboards.

Rough hands pulled him off of Sirius, shaking him, shouting at him to stop it. But he kept swinging his arms uselessly, screaming himself hoarse. And with every insult and blow and poison-filled glare James threw at him, Sirius's expression didn't change.

Later than evening, as Lily's sobs shattered over Dumbledore's amplified voice, James wondered how he had ever thought that black could have different shades.

x x x


	5. Chapter 5

x x x

"Stop it, please god, stop-"

"God isn't listening. He doesn't care, filth - No one cares-"

"No-"

"Worthless-"

"Please-"

"Deserve to die, traitor - you deserve to _die_-"

x x x

He wasn't surprised when he awoke, feeling like he'd just run a marathon. He didn't move, coiled snake-like underneath the thin blanket, sobbed pleas echoing in his mind, a droplet of sweat burning a line of ice across his temple. Soft light sifted through the blanket that was covering him entirely, protecting his prone face from the cold of the common room in the morning. The ashes from last night's fire lay like black frost in the hearth.

The nightmares were nothing new. For six years, whenever he was scared or upset or even angry, he'd wake up gasping, hair plastered to his face and neck. He didn't scream anymore when they came to him - he was too used to it. They never brought pain with them - just terror and humiliation and the sound of pure desperation in his begging voice.

The armrest of the sofa was hard against his bent neck, and he shifted in an attempt to ease the tightness in his chest. It didn't work, however; Sirius didn't think that there'd ever be anything that could soothe his choking guilt. The jury was still out on his expulsion, and much as Sirius could not imagine staying at Hogwarts after committing a murder, he didn't know what he'd do if he was expelled. He didn't have anywhere to go. And going back to Grimmauld Place...

Sirius clenched his eyes shut, unable to stop the tremors that came at the thought of returning to that house. He tried not to think about what would happen if his parents got their hands on him, after they'd disowned him. Grimmauld Place was what he deserved - _hell_ was what he deserved for what he'd done-

His mother was right. His father was right. He was a worthless traitor after all.

Taking a shuddering breath, he clenched at the blanket as he heard the footsteps, coming down one of the fourteen staircases that led into the Gryffindor common room. _It's a first year,_ he thought, forcing himself to believe it. _A seventh year, up early to study for NEWTs-_

A board creaked at the foot of the stairs, and light, weightless footsteps floated across the floor. The scrape of book covers and parchment on scarred wood - Sirius now remembered having seen a pile of such items on one of the tables. _They're just getting their things, Sirius, calm down._ A bookbag rustled as the student put away the belongings that they'd left the previous night; a harmless, quiet student. He let out his breath, which he only just realized he'd been holding, in a almost silent, ragged hiss. Safe.

The student suddenly stopped, dropping the remaining books on the table with a loud _clunk_. "Is someone here?" a high voice called, a familiar voice. Sirius's stomach plummeted down to greet his toes - aside from the Marauders, this was the one person that he never wanted to have to face ever again. But apparently he was not going to get what he wanted, because he could hear her looking, still asking, "Hello? Anyone here?" Sirius pressed his back into the sofa, as if he could melt into it, and tried not to breathe.

Too late. Cold winter morning light flooded through his eyelids as the comforting warm of the blanket vanished, and a quivering voice pierced holes through his bruised soul, "Sirius? Are you alright?"

Sirius blinked, unable to look at the angel that glowed blood red in the pale blue dawnlight. "Fine." He didn't lift his head, didn't try to pretend that he wasn't lying. What was the point? She always knew, just like - just like Remus always knew. It was a waste of time to try and convince Lily of something that she didn't believe.

"What are you doing here? It's freezing." She wouldn't be saying this if she knew what he'd done, he knew it. If she knew that he'd killed her best friend... Sirius shook his head tersely, swallowing back the swelling tears.

Large green eyes, even still branded with grief, found his. "What on earth happened? Why aren't you in the dormitory?"

Sirius wondered if she could see the guilt in his gaze before he jerked his head away, shutting his eyelids to avoid having to see the sorrow of Severus's loss on the emeralds that James so adored. "We - we fought," he muttered, pulling himself to an upright position in a imitation of dignity. "It's only one night - it's not a big deal-"

And of course he was lying, because there was nothing that was a bigger deal than what was currently splitting the Marauders into Sirius and Remus, James and Peter. It was an insult to Sniv - Severus's memory to say it wasn't a big deal, it was an insult to Lily, it was a _betrayal_ of Remus, to add to the list-

"You guys never fight. It must be a big deal." Her voice shouldn't be that calm, he thinks wildly. She shouldn't be that normal while talking to him - while talking to her best friend's murderer. _She doesn't know... She doesn't know..._

"Okay, so I lied. It is a big deal." Shrugging off the hand that had somehow made its way to his arm, he stood up, opening his eyes. "I should go..."

He was suddenly conscious of Lily's fingers on his shoulders. Drops of poison stared into his eyes, almost too green. "What happened?" Her voice was soft, concerned. Like she actually wanted to help Sirius.

Sirius didn't know what to say. Lily was too observant to believe a lie, but the truth was not an option. He deserved her hatred, but Remus did not. He had betrayed Remus enough. "Lily, I can't-"

A sharp intake of breath sounded behind Sirius. Whirling in surprise, he saw James. James, glaring at him with absolute blinding hatred. That was the only way James had looked at him since it had happened, but frequency didn't lessen the nausea at seeing such a familiar, non-Black face contorted like that.

Sirius didn't say anything. There was nothing to say. Lily had dropped her arms, looking taken aback by the sheer strength of James's anger. "What in Merlin's name-"

"Leave her alone," James hissed. Sirius looked away, unable to continue recieving the loathing gaze. "If you dare hurt her I'll kill you, I swear I will-"

"He wasn't trying to hurt me - God, James, what's going on? You know Sirius wouldn't-"

She was silenced by James's angry retort, biting back through the air to sink its sharp teeth into Sirius's already bleeding conscience. "He fooled us. All of us. He's just another Black. Another traitorous, cowardly, stinking Black."

"Potter-" Lily protested.

"Get out. We told you to leave - get _out!_"

Sirius faintly heard Lily arguing with James, apparently unable to understand that it was over. Done. Their friendship had not melted, as some did, but vaporized, and there was no chance of putting it back together. Ever.

He did not stay to listen. He left, walking with deliberate steps out of the common room, away from James, giving in. Neither tried to follow him - James not caring, Lily not noticing - and for that he was glad. He didn't want to be followed to where he was going.

The thin layer of frost on the grass crackled like broken glass under his bare feet as he walked out onto the grounds. It was colder out here than it had been in the common room, where the thick castle walls had insulated somewhat. The biting chill against his calloused heels was almost a comfort - it was hard to think of anything else. But at last he had reached his destination and, wielding the stick in front of him as if to ward off the memories that lurked here, he entered.

The shack had not been cleaned. Sirius didn't know that the human body could hold that much blood. It was thicker than paint when it dried, streaked in a grotesque calligraphy across walls and floor. The remains had been removed, obviously, but it didn't take much imagination to see what they must have looked like. What it must have been like, to wake up, covered in red and echoes of violence-

Sirius ran upstairs, stumbling over the uneven floorboards and mangled furniture that lay in his path, in an insane rush to get away from the blood. Anywhere at all - just away, away from the vivid reminder of his evil. He sprawled on the four-poster, panting, vision tinted crimson.

Odd that evil should be red. Sirius had always associated it with black.

It was there, breathing hard into the dusty comforter and being beautifully distracted by dust-filled coughs, that the owl found him.

x x x

A/N: I normally wouldn't post two chapters in such close sucession, but this chapter is being posted as an apology gift to my friend (She Knows Who She Is) because I was too stupid to turn my IM off before I scurried off to take a SAT practice test. I'm awfully sorry, you-know-who-you-are, and so even though this is close to one of my most morbid works, I still apologize and I hope you forgive me for my stupidity anyway.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Um, wow. It's actually been over a year since I added to this. I wonder if anyone besides BA is going to read this chapter.

I know it's been a long time, and I'm sorry, and listing the reasons why isn't going to help anybody and will waste a lot of your time. So I'm just going to say that I'm back now with a tentative idea of what might come, though I may go back and edit past chapters just because some sentences make me wince loudly.

I love you guys, my readers, and I'm sorry to leave you on tenterhooks. I hate it when authors do that. Well, I'm back, and don't count on punctual updates but I don't think you'll have to wait a year for them either.

It's great to be back. Now, read.

x x x

He wished he'd thought to bring the invisibility cloak down to breakfast, even though he knows it would only be postponing the inevitable. He isn't sure what he's doing down here in the first place, really, except to prove that he's fine.

It's been a week, after all. He's tougher than that. He shouldn't still be waited on.

He leans his head against a bandaged hand and waits for the others to come down. People are watching him from the other tables, and whispering, but they would be whispering anyway. Even he can't just disappear after - after what happened, and not have people wonder. No one says anything, though, for which he's grateful. He'd come down early for a reason.

Peter's face doesn't change when he sees him - he supposes it would have taken more than that to surprise Peter these days - but James looks suitably displeased. "Pomfrey can't have let you out."

He shrugs. "I'm here, aren't I?"

James doesn't say anything more, just loading some sausage on his plate and then holding it out. He doesn't _want_ any, and tells James so, but James doesn't put the plate down so he takes one piece. Doesn't eat it, just takes it and puts it down, quivering on the end of his fork. James looks satisfied, though, and moves on to toast.

Peter doesn't look at him, really. It's not surprising. If he'd been them, he'd treat him like porcelain too. He still wishes they wouldn't, though.

No one says anything more. They don't need to. The tension's like another person, taking up the place where the last marauder used to be.

x x x

Minerva would have have done just about anything than tell Eileen about her son. It wasn't even her job, really. But Horace was suddenly extremely busy, along with everyone else, and the Headmaster appeared to be gone altogether, and it's not like they could not be told. So Minerva did.

Eileen cried, which Minerva had to admit she'd been expecting. She was glad the muggle hadn't come - not that she had anything against muggles, in general, but she didn't like Tobias Snape. Though it might have been better for Eileen, who was upset that she didn't seem like she could make it home.

"I'm sorry, Eileen," Minerva said. She wasn't much for comforting, not even when she was younger and Eileen was the cheeky little Hufflepuff who asked the strangest questions. She did try, though, patting Eileen on the back and trying to remember how her mother had done it.

Eileen shook her head, face hidden in her hankerchief. "Just sudden." She trembled under Minerva's palm. "Did he go quickly?"

"He did." Minerva didn't like lying, and this particular one left a metallic taste in her mouth. Eileen did swallow at this. It had to be a comfort somehow, though. Minerva was glad she didn't have children to outlive.

She ended up walking Eileen past the gates and apparating her home, if you could call it that. Eileen closed the crumbling door behind her, filled with Minerva's lies about Avada Kedavra and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Minerva was sure she heard someone shouting, but she turned back to the school; there was a reason why she didn't try to find out what became of her students after they left.

At dinner, when the Headmaster asked how her day had been, she didn't bother to answer him. That was answer enough.

x x x

Sorry for the short chapter. Felt like I should post something. If I get another little snippet, I might tack it on to this chapter.

Reviews are food for my ego. Blow it like a balloon!

~DreamingOfNothing


	7. Chapter 7

x x x

It took far less time that she'd expected to forget. Or, if not to forget, at least not to think about it all the time. To be honest, it had been a long time since she'd talked to him, even before. She was fine now, really. Absolutely fine.

This is what Lily told her the man from the psych ward at Mungo's, the grief counselor that talked to all of Severus's friends. He spent a lot of time talking to Lily. They met in the Muggle Studies classroom, with desks lined up like soldiers.

"Are you sure?" he said, looking at her sideways through his narrow, square glasses. The sun glinted off the frame. Lily fixed her eyes on this fleck of gold and nodded.

He shuffled his papers, papers full of Lily and Severus. "Does your mother think you should go back to school?"

Lily told him that she'd said yes. She didn't tell him that she hadn't spoken to her mother in months, since summer holiday. That wasn't part of grief counseling.

After a few more minutes of scanning his notes, Dr. Hopkins smiled at her, sliding the papers back into the folder. "Well, then," he said, standing up. "I agree."

Lily turned her lips up at the corners. It still didn't feel right. She thanked him.

"I'll tell Headmaster Dumbledore," he said, walking towards the door to open it for her. Lily kept her smile, saying thank you again.

And then she was gone. Cool wisps of air brushed against her arms, raising goosebumps, and she pulled her robes more tightly around her. "Something we call winter," Severus said in her ear.

x x x

The Great Hall was empty when James got down there that morning. He sat at the long table, resting his head against the wood, closing his eyes. He'd be able to hear it when it came, even over the slight hum of rain.

The owl knew when to come by now - James couldn't say how he knew, but that was owls. He fluttered down in front of James, dropping the newspaper in front of him. His beak snapped open and shut as he stuck out his foot. The brown coin sack dangled off the side.

"He's already paid his subscription," James said, nudging the foot off of the headline, but was safe this morning, something beautifully monotonous. James was mildly amused that the dragon flu in Tanzania made front-page news these days. He supposed that even a war got tiring after a while.

It didn't take him long to search the rest of the paper. It was all safe - no articles about the Snape murder. He set it down as carefully as he could, paper barely rustling. The owl continued to look at him. "You can deliver it at breakfast if you want," he said, pushing it back towards the probing foot. "It's clear today."

The owl wrapped its talons carefully around the paper, still eyeing him suspiciously. "Ask Remus at breakfast," James said, smiling a little. "He'll tell you he's paid."

The owl swooped almost against the glass roof of the hall, flicking out of the windows. James lay down on the bench for a moment, staring up into the drizzly grey sky. In a half-hour, Remus and Peter would wake up. They'd all three walk down to the Great Hall together, and Remus wouldn't notice that his paper was already read. Even when it came with pieces cut out, he assumed it was Filch.

James, on the other hand, would remember the bits of paper curled up on the stone floor, edges grinning as they burned, watching the words go up in smoke.

x x x

_A/N: I will say now that Snape is not a ghost. That is all I will say now._

_I know that this story has not been updated for ages (mercy, seven months), mainly because the bug had left. I started writing other things, for other fandoms, for myself, and I didn't really come back to the Mauraders._

_Lately they've been haunting me, though, so I've been writing on this again. Hopefully it will last longer than my last binge. I was really in an overall slump then, though, so hopefully I can stay excited and inspired. Fingers crossed, guys._

_~DreamingOfNothing  
_


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Harry Potter, Horror, Tragedy