Escapology by hiddendaze
Title: Escapology
Author: hiddendaze
Summary: Trust James to crash the party.
Rating: PG-13.
Recipient: For smartlikejustin! Merry Christmas!
~*~
Escapology
James wasn't one to drink under normal circumstances but when Lily Evans turned down his new, improved incarnation for the third time he headed automatically to the cellar of the Three Broomsticks, perched himself on a crate and grabbed the nearest bottle.
After a few swigs in quick succession he fell back against the crates, throat burning, eyes watering. Not at all like drinking butterbeer. And firewhiskey, despite some rough experiences, never made his head feel this heavy and lopsided - not immediately, anyway. James lifted the open bottle carefully to eye level, drawing his wand up to read the label: Jeepers gin. Twisting to the back label he read - guaranteed to put hair on your chest, gravel in your throat and a jolt to your spine. James knocked back another mouthful. Lily would never love him but at least he was a man who knew how to find hard liquor, and how to drink it.
Perhaps it was a symptom of having had bad eyesight for a very long time, or maybe a necessary skill learnt from six years of unauthorised wandering around the castle, or, possibly, he was just exceptionally gifted when it came to his hearing, but James Potter heard a small creak in the corner behind yet more crates and without hesitation pointed his wand and said the words "show" and "yourself" slowly in succession. He didn't slur but the advertised throaty tones also failed to present. He wasn't sure which outweighed the other.
There was no answer and James was working up to saying it all again when Remus appeared at the edge of the crates. "Prongs?"
"Moony!" James tipped forward happily, relieved to be in the presence of someone who didn't hate him and who he also was not obligated to duel. Remus didn't seem to share this feeling; he loitered where he'd emerged, running a hand through his hair and then, like the thought has just occurred to him, uttering lumos and taking in the whole splendour of the room, finally settling on its centrepiece, slouching James, and walked over to him.
"What are you doing?" he asked, sitting down and taking the proffered bottle as James sank back after sipping, mouth contorted into pained looking shapes.
"Ahhh, Lily. Hates me."
"Still!" Remus seemed a bit wound up, staring off into the dim lit distance before looking at the bottle in his hands and laughing. "Gin, James? Gin is for sad housewives."
"No! The bottle says it's very manly."
"That's just selling talk - I assure you it is very far from manly."
"Great," James said, bitterly, "no wonder she hates me. I'm a gutless wonder."
"Come on, let's get you back to the dorm." Remus stood and moved to help James up but he was dismissed with the flap of a hand. "I am not drunk." James blinked and eyeballed Remus. "And by that I mean I'm not drunk enough." The gravity of the situation thus made clear, Remus sat. He also fiddled with the knot of his tie like he was the one needing a drink.
Which reminded James. "Where's my bottle?"
"You don't want that."
"Why not?" James said, challengingly. "Think I can't handle it? Me and my girly drink?"
"Actually, it'll give you a headache, a terrible hangover and rip up your throat." Remus was up again, across the room and peering into crates, returning to his spot beside James with another bottle in hand.
"If you must get drunk," he said, handing James a bottle, "have this." James read the label - Veela Vodka. It sounded ... sophisticated. "Have some with me, Moony?" It was an enthusiastic plea.
Remus didn't even reply, merely took the bottle back, broke the seal with an efficient twist of his hand and took one quick but efficient gulp. James mirrored him, and he noted that, unlike the gin, which was all hot, more like scorching, the vodka went down like an impossible mix of hot and cold.
"So, what did she say this time?" Remus asked, lips pressed together and red. Vodka obviously agreed with him.
"'No' and 'Nothing changes'. She mumbled that as she walked away."
They shared an empathetic silence before Remus reached an arm around to pat James on the back with a "Bad luck, mate." James thought, screw luck, luck has nothing to do with it. But it was a friendly sentiment and he didn't have it in him to argue. He was like that under the effect of alcohol, compliant. Saying what he thought, on the other hand, was an essential James Potter trait. "Hey, you're smelling good, Moony!"
Remus sort of laughed and withdrew his arm to fiddle again with his tie knot. "Thanks."
James was looking around for the vodka bottle when he heard -
"What's all this?"
He raised his head to see Sirius, resplendent, proud and not a little put-out, standing in front of the trapdoor, taking in the scene and looking directly at him.
Sirius, his best mate.
"Padfoot! What are you doing here?" He beckoned freely and leaned forward - the lads! How had he forgotten? His lads never let him down. "Is Wormtail coming, too?"
"No." Sirius hadn't moved at all.
"Prongs is feeling rejected," Remus said in his explaining voice. James threw a resentful look his way - like he needed reminding - but Remus was looking at Sirius, smiling almost apologetically.
"And the cellar of the Three Broomsticks is the place to be, clearly," Sirius said, not moving from his position, eyes back on James.
"What's up your arse?" James asked turning his glare to Sirius. "I'm the one who's been dumped." He was not prepared to be out-stared over this, and Sirius eventually dropped his gaze, walked over and took the crate opposite him.
"I'd say it's nothing you can't handle," Remus said, holding the bottle out and Sirius, after sweeping a hand through his fringe, took it.
"I've had enough," James said, eyeing the bottle. Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Of her, this."
Sirius took several sips and then swallowed. "Where'd all that mindless optimism go?"
"See, it is mindless, she's never going to like me," James said, hauling himself up to grab the bottle and throw more liquid down his gullet. Ahhh. "Hey" - and he paused to drag a sleeve across his mouth - "what are you doing here, anyway?"
After some deliberation Sirius replied, "Just going for a drink."
"You've got your best robes on for that?" Sirius shrugged. "You don't need to wear your best robes. The girls all like you anyway."
Sirius was completely disinterested, focussed instead on three dusty wine bottles, which he presently transfigured into cups. He took the vodka bottle and poured. An awful lot seemed to go into the one he handed James.
"Look," Remus said, with a decisive tone, "has she publicly humiliated you this year?"
"No."
"Does she listen to you on official head ... people business?"
"Yes."
"Then it's all positive."
"Besides, I saw her ogling you," Sirius said casually.
"What? WHEN."
"Once in Potions a couple of weeks ago. And then this week in the hallway."
"It never crossed your mind to tell me?" James asked, almost falling from his crate with the combined force of adrenalin and altered blood alcohol levels.
"She thinks you're big-headed. You're not ready to handle that kind of information," Sirius said simply.
*
After three hours in the cellar, the decision was made to get James home. In truth Remus had wanted to be out of there three hours before but, well James was a friend and he didn't normally drink like this and what were they meant to do? In the last hour the alcohol had really hit him, in the way that Veela did - slow build-up and then wham! Remus himself had had maybe two cups over the course of the evening but at no point had he been drunk. The first cup he drank in a vague gesture of solidarity and because Sirius was there and had offered. The second dwindled away amidst the silence that had fallen over the close and cool cellar and their attempts to shake it away with conversation. James, without fail, interrupted every such attempt, stirring from his apparent sleep-daze to deliver over-enunciated non-sequiturs.
"Better be right about that vodka," James intoned, and Remus looked to Sirius. "What say we get him back?" Sirius nodded and was up immediately, throwing a shoulder under a Potter arm. "Upsie, Jamesie, you lug." His cheeks were puffed out momentarily and were pink, as though touched by brush, or fingers. Remus took the other side.
James could walk when they had him upright but only with great concentration. When they got to the trapdoor Sirius leaned forward, as though James wasn't there or at least suspended in a stupefied charm, and said, "We could chuck him down and then mend his bones back together." Remus grinned, said "That would have been a good idea, earlier," then felt a bit stupid and hefted James up and rearranged him on his shoulder. In the end, Sirius went down first, grabbing hold of James' legs as Remus eased him down. It took a full ten minutes to get James to release his grip on the hole, during which Remus coaxed, Sirius demanded, Remus played Ten Little Pigs with James' fingers, Sirius (and therefore James) shook with laughter, Remus said, "Okay, maybe just let go?" and Sirius did and James fell.
Standing over the prone form of their friend in a very poorly lit dirt tunnel served to bring certain small issues into focus for Remus - they would be returning to the castle late, with a Head Boy who was filthy and, if not incoherent, certainly highly unconventional in his current approach to speech and eye contact. On top of that they all smelt as if they'd spent the day drinking in a public house or, alternatively, just lolled around in the cellar of one.
"Do we have a plan?" he asked.
"Get him to the dorm by the shortest route possible before he passes out, I'd say."
"And if we run into anyone?'
"We do all the talking and James reveals his new, quietly authoritative self." Sirius said it like it was completely obvious but then stopped, glanced at Remus. "Yes?"
"Yeah, I suppose." Remus still wasn't entirely convinced, but they'd been in much, much worse jams. He pointed his wand at James and chanted a cleaning spell. "Can't hurt," he said, turning his wand on himself and Sirius. He sniffed his collar and wasn't really surprised to find he still smelt like a distillery. "Ready?"
They picked James up, who said lazily "Where'd my veela go?" and then much more clearly, "My head hurts." Sirius responded with "Keep your mouth shut unless we say otherwise, okay?" as he planted James' hands on his shoulders and they moved off along the passageway in single file.
"Yes. I will be" - James paused, breathed - "fine. Fine."
The journey was slow but uneventful and miraculously they were able to fall into step with each other, leaving Remus to wonder what would happen to James if they did encounter a teacher and how fine a robe could look even in the weak glow of wand light.
They reached the end of the tunnel and Sirius reached back to steady James. "Alright, quiet, now," Remus whispered even though James had been so silent for the last half hour he half expected an alcohol-induced stupor. They bunched up together and listened, several long minutes, until Sirius took his wand and tapped the stone barrier. It disappeared and he stepped out carefully before giving the all clear.
The fresh air was a relief and all the tension Remus had accrued from an evening of unexpected claustrophobia and otherwise dissipated. "I think it will be okay," he said quietly over James, propped loosely between them now, with just a hand of each to keep him steady. Sirius turned to him and nodded, and Remus fancied he could feel the cloth between their hands tighten as they pushed James forward.
The journey across the castle and up two flights of stairs was a breeze. At that point, however, their not-quite plan was severely compromised by clear words ringing out against the stone walls, floors and ceiling. "Stop there, Potter, stop right there!" Sirius and Remus muttered "Fuck" quickly under their breaths and even James was with it enough to react, although he did so with a clearly intoned "Sod biscuits."
McGonagall was bearing down on them and there seemed no escape, not with James' behaviour now sliding from unconventional to nuts. Remus held tight and prepared for the worst.
"Where have you been, Potter?" McGonagall asked, confronting him and looking him up and down. Without waiting for an answer she adjusted her glasses and looked from Sirius to James to Remus and back again, addressing them collectively. "Where have you all been?" She sniffed at the air, ominously.
"We've just been out in the greenhouses, Professor," Sirius said calmly, looking her in the eye. "Special project for Professor Verdante."
She considered this a moment before turning her gaze on Remus. He stared back with as much blankness as he could muster. Her eyes crinkled, as if she couldn't decide where that piece of the puzzle fitted, before swooping back onto James. "Is this correct, Potter? Is this why you didn't keep your appointment in my office?" Hazarding a glance, Remus saw that James' eyes were wide open and utterly unfocussed, even behind his glasses. A terrible fate was now surely but moments away.
Boredom stamped all over his face, Sirius prodded at James. "Go on, tell the professor that we were indeed where Sirius said we were." That earned a genuine McGonagall glare but her eyes skipped instantly back to James, who was opening and shutting his mouth, like he intended to speak but wasn't sure how to go about it. The two bodies on either side of him tensed.
"He's right, professor - really," he finally managed. His eyes opened wider, as though shocked, and he went on, elaborating. "They're right, completely right."
"Are you perfectly well, Potter?" McGonagall asked, stepping forward, "You smell odd. If I find that you -"
Remus cut her off by stumbling forward and crying out, "It's m'fault, professor. Mine. There's nothing for me. I, I ... what will I do, when school finishes? No one will want me, no. There's nothing for me, nothing, no future, no ..." he drifted off into gulping hysteria.
"Oh my dear boy, keep your voice down!" McGonagall said in hushed tones, stepping across to steady him by the elbow.
"I'm sorry, so sorry. I'm always messing things up." He swung his head around and saw that Sirius had a hold of James and was saying something in his ear, all the while looking calm yet concerned. "I saw the drink and I just wanted it to end. Professor?" He fixed her with pained, plaintive eyes.
"He's right," Sirius put in, smartarse tone all gone. "We found him like this behind Greenhouse 3. We just wanted to get him back to the dorm as quietly as possible." James pushed his glasses up, coughed and nodded solemnly, or absently, depending on perspective.
"Well," she said, sparing James only the briefest of glances before continuing on briskly. "Well, I'll talk to you about this later, Potter. Now it would be best if I took Lupin and saw he receives proper attention." With that she dismissed them, but Sirius came around to help settle Remus against her. Remus felt his hands against his side and the small of his back.
As McGonagall whispered to him as they walked away, Remus turned his head to see Sirius pulling James up from his comatose position against the wall. He grinned.
*
James further demonstrated his perfect sense of timing by regaining consciousness after Sirius had hauled him up the stairs to the dorm and after he had pushed him onto the bed, got his shoes and robe off and manoeuvred him under the covers. Through all this Sirius had been explaining the evening's events - the salient bits - to Peter, and James, once ensconced in his soft, warm bed, took it upon himself to register the presence of his hitherto absent friend and indulge in some overdramatic hugging and some "Pete, you're my best mate, she's just nonsense, isn't she?" nonsense. Sirius let him carry on for fifteen minutes before forcing two glasses of water down his throat and leaving Peter to it. He went downstairs to the common room, now empty, and sat on the couch, the fire burning lazily in front of him. He stood up and removed his black felt robe.
Remus came in about midnight, looking tired but luminous as ever. "Well, I'm so far beyond sober."
Sirius grinned. "What happened?"
"She took me back to her office, gave me two draughts of sobriety potion - and insisted that I wait there for two hours so they'd take effect - and counselled me about how she'd never hold anything against me and I was a very talented wizard and most certainly not a burden on society."
"I always knew you were her favourite," Sirius said in an easy banter.
"Yeah." Remus was shrugging off his school robes. "How's James?" he asked, sinking heavily onto the couch.
"Drunk, in bed and dead to the world I can only hope." Remus laughed, and Sirius was only reminded of how spectacularly bad the night had turned out.
"How much does he owe me, you reckon?"
"As much as you can take him for."
"He owes me a lot, I think," Remus said, his head back, eyes softly closed.
'A lot', Sirius thought. A lot of what? A lot of hassle with McGonagall? A lot of hanging around unnecessarily in damp cellars and dank tunnels? A lot of boring moral support for piss-weak, lovelorn friends? He sank back against the couch, too, feeling aimless and distracted. He eyes settled upon the curve of Remus' lashes, shaking slightly in the firelight and with his steady breaths. Not a lot of sitting in familiar pubs with familiar friends and finding the courage to see what might happen.
"I suppose it's too late for that drink?" he found himself asking.
Remus turned open eyes on him, query written over his face. Sirius cleared his throat. "I pinched a bottle of brandy." Remus breathed in, impressed or at the very least pleased. "I think that would be a fine thing before bed," he said. He said it like the words themselves were delicious things.
His robe was draped over the back of the couch, and Sirius had to rummage to find the bottle. He gripped and heard the lid snap, grinned and tossed back a mouthful. Heat rushed through his head, and he could feel it settle in his cheeks and lips. Remus in turn took a slow, appreciative mouthful. They were both smiling, and Sirius leaned into the old faded chintz thinking, he's right, this is a fine way to spend an evening, even if the other didn't work out.
"She mentioned an organisation that Dumbledore has put together," Remus said conversationally. "A secret thing."
"That's a good idea."
"I think so."
Sirius didn't know what else to say.
Remus changed the subject. "Hopefully Lily will just say yes soon, I'm getting sick of this." Before Sirius could respond to that, Remus had cleared his throat. "I'm getting sick of this," he repeated. Sirius swung around to investigate this statement and met with a direct, steady gaze. It threw him off-kilter. "So ..." Remus said and moved nearer, resting his arm along the couch top, leaning in. He hovered close a moment, and Sirius lost his panic and kissed him.
It was good, but the smell of Remus, the brush of his hair along the edge of his face, the way he breathed across his lips when he drew back and waited, that was as good or better. "You smell-" Sirius wanted to say wonderful and after a moment's hesitation did. "Wonderful. I wanted to say earlier but I wasn't sure ..." Remus pressed his cheek against his, talked to his hair, his ear, the air. "It's okay." He stilled, then laughed. "James told me already."
"I hate James," Sirius said.
"We officially hate James," Remus confirmed, drawing back a little to catch Sirius' eye, amusement glinting in his own. Without ado he brought his lips to Sirius' again, placing a hand to his neck, a first touch after a night of close contact. Sirius pulled him even closer.
Without wanting or intending to absolve James, Sirius had to admit that this by far exceeded the expectations he'd had for their night at The Three Broomsticks.
The brandy was not forgotten and they passed it between them in the dying firelight, around conversation and kisses and perfect silence.
"How much longer, you reckon?" Sirius pondered.
"What?" Remus had his arms wrapped around his drawn-up legs, shoes kicked off long before.
"Lily, before she cracks?"
"She is cracked. She's a head case, after all." Sirius laughed, not surprised by that response. For on finding that both James and Lily had made the grade with Dumbledore, Remus had dispensed with Head-Boy-and-Head-Girl and settled on the collective-friendly Head Cases. Remus continued. "Not long. He's got to be wearing her down now he has official access."
"That is one thing James excels at," Sirius said with grudging admiration. He turned an unguarded eye on Remus.
"Are you ogling me?" The question was purely inquisitive.
"I might be," Sirius said non-committedly
"By the way, I like the robe," Remus said casually.
"Like?"
"Wonderful," he conceded.
*
James Potter woke feeling rested and wide-eyed, if a little displaced. Perhaps he had slept too long - he must have gotten to bed straight after the meeting with Lily, before that meeting he had with -
"Shit!"
"Shut! Up!" Remus yelled, though it was muffled by his pillow.
"I stood up McGonagall!" shouted James.
"She doesn't need you, mate," Peter said, standing by his trunk and buttoning up a shirt.
"What?!" James exclaimed from his mess of bedclothes. He didn't wait for an answer. "She'll have my head!"
"Good riddance," Sirius said from his bed, where he was reclined like a king, hands behind his head.
"She'll have my badge!" James was pulling at his hair now. "Lily won't have me without the badge!"
"As we all know, she won't have you anyway," Sirius said, throwing a satisfied look at Peter.
"What are you saying? She wants me." It was said with great conviction.
Remus groaned.
"James, last night -" Peter began.
"Well you better be on your way if you want to make amends," Sirius butt in, grinning and catching Peter's eye again. "Chop chop." James fled the room in a flurry of robes and ties and clunking shoes.
"We'll tell him later," Sirius announced, rolling onto his side. Peter chuckled. "Good, because he needs to pay," Remus said, lifting his pillow to find Sirius smiling at him from the adjacent bed. "Head case," Remus mouthed and Sirius laughed.
~*~
Author: hiddendaze
Summary: Trust James to crash the party.
Rating: PG-13.
Recipient: For smartlikejustin! Merry Christmas!
~*~
Escapology
James wasn't one to drink under normal circumstances but when Lily Evans turned down his new, improved incarnation for the third time he headed automatically to the cellar of the Three Broomsticks, perched himself on a crate and grabbed the nearest bottle.
After a few swigs in quick succession he fell back against the crates, throat burning, eyes watering. Not at all like drinking butterbeer. And firewhiskey, despite some rough experiences, never made his head feel this heavy and lopsided - not immediately, anyway. James lifted the open bottle carefully to eye level, drawing his wand up to read the label: Jeepers gin. Twisting to the back label he read - guaranteed to put hair on your chest, gravel in your throat and a jolt to your spine. James knocked back another mouthful. Lily would never love him but at least he was a man who knew how to find hard liquor, and how to drink it.
Perhaps it was a symptom of having had bad eyesight for a very long time, or maybe a necessary skill learnt from six years of unauthorised wandering around the castle, or, possibly, he was just exceptionally gifted when it came to his hearing, but James Potter heard a small creak in the corner behind yet more crates and without hesitation pointed his wand and said the words "show" and "yourself" slowly in succession. He didn't slur but the advertised throaty tones also failed to present. He wasn't sure which outweighed the other.
There was no answer and James was working up to saying it all again when Remus appeared at the edge of the crates. "Prongs?"
"Moony!" James tipped forward happily, relieved to be in the presence of someone who didn't hate him and who he also was not obligated to duel. Remus didn't seem to share this feeling; he loitered where he'd emerged, running a hand through his hair and then, like the thought has just occurred to him, uttering lumos and taking in the whole splendour of the room, finally settling on its centrepiece, slouching James, and walked over to him.
"What are you doing?" he asked, sitting down and taking the proffered bottle as James sank back after sipping, mouth contorted into pained looking shapes.
"Ahhh, Lily. Hates me."
"Still!" Remus seemed a bit wound up, staring off into the dim lit distance before looking at the bottle in his hands and laughing. "Gin, James? Gin is for sad housewives."
"No! The bottle says it's very manly."
"That's just selling talk - I assure you it is very far from manly."
"Great," James said, bitterly, "no wonder she hates me. I'm a gutless wonder."
"Come on, let's get you back to the dorm." Remus stood and moved to help James up but he was dismissed with the flap of a hand. "I am not drunk." James blinked and eyeballed Remus. "And by that I mean I'm not drunk enough." The gravity of the situation thus made clear, Remus sat. He also fiddled with the knot of his tie like he was the one needing a drink.
Which reminded James. "Where's my bottle?"
"You don't want that."
"Why not?" James said, challengingly. "Think I can't handle it? Me and my girly drink?"
"Actually, it'll give you a headache, a terrible hangover and rip up your throat." Remus was up again, across the room and peering into crates, returning to his spot beside James with another bottle in hand.
"If you must get drunk," he said, handing James a bottle, "have this." James read the label - Veela Vodka. It sounded ... sophisticated. "Have some with me, Moony?" It was an enthusiastic plea.
Remus didn't even reply, merely took the bottle back, broke the seal with an efficient twist of his hand and took one quick but efficient gulp. James mirrored him, and he noted that, unlike the gin, which was all hot, more like scorching, the vodka went down like an impossible mix of hot and cold.
"So, what did she say this time?" Remus asked, lips pressed together and red. Vodka obviously agreed with him.
"'No' and 'Nothing changes'. She mumbled that as she walked away."
They shared an empathetic silence before Remus reached an arm around to pat James on the back with a "Bad luck, mate." James thought, screw luck, luck has nothing to do with it. But it was a friendly sentiment and he didn't have it in him to argue. He was like that under the effect of alcohol, compliant. Saying what he thought, on the other hand, was an essential James Potter trait. "Hey, you're smelling good, Moony!"
Remus sort of laughed and withdrew his arm to fiddle again with his tie knot. "Thanks."
James was looking around for the vodka bottle when he heard -
"What's all this?"
He raised his head to see Sirius, resplendent, proud and not a little put-out, standing in front of the trapdoor, taking in the scene and looking directly at him.
Sirius, his best mate.
"Padfoot! What are you doing here?" He beckoned freely and leaned forward - the lads! How had he forgotten? His lads never let him down. "Is Wormtail coming, too?"
"No." Sirius hadn't moved at all.
"Prongs is feeling rejected," Remus said in his explaining voice. James threw a resentful look his way - like he needed reminding - but Remus was looking at Sirius, smiling almost apologetically.
"And the cellar of the Three Broomsticks is the place to be, clearly," Sirius said, not moving from his position, eyes back on James.
"What's up your arse?" James asked turning his glare to Sirius. "I'm the one who's been dumped." He was not prepared to be out-stared over this, and Sirius eventually dropped his gaze, walked over and took the crate opposite him.
"I'd say it's nothing you can't handle," Remus said, holding the bottle out and Sirius, after sweeping a hand through his fringe, took it.
"I've had enough," James said, eyeing the bottle. Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Of her, this."
Sirius took several sips and then swallowed. "Where'd all that mindless optimism go?"
"See, it is mindless, she's never going to like me," James said, hauling himself up to grab the bottle and throw more liquid down his gullet. Ahhh. "Hey" - and he paused to drag a sleeve across his mouth - "what are you doing here, anyway?"
After some deliberation Sirius replied, "Just going for a drink."
"You've got your best robes on for that?" Sirius shrugged. "You don't need to wear your best robes. The girls all like you anyway."
Sirius was completely disinterested, focussed instead on three dusty wine bottles, which he presently transfigured into cups. He took the vodka bottle and poured. An awful lot seemed to go into the one he handed James.
"Look," Remus said, with a decisive tone, "has she publicly humiliated you this year?"
"No."
"Does she listen to you on official head ... people business?"
"Yes."
"Then it's all positive."
"Besides, I saw her ogling you," Sirius said casually.
"What? WHEN."
"Once in Potions a couple of weeks ago. And then this week in the hallway."
"It never crossed your mind to tell me?" James asked, almost falling from his crate with the combined force of adrenalin and altered blood alcohol levels.
"She thinks you're big-headed. You're not ready to handle that kind of information," Sirius said simply.
*
After three hours in the cellar, the decision was made to get James home. In truth Remus had wanted to be out of there three hours before but, well James was a friend and he didn't normally drink like this and what were they meant to do? In the last hour the alcohol had really hit him, in the way that Veela did - slow build-up and then wham! Remus himself had had maybe two cups over the course of the evening but at no point had he been drunk. The first cup he drank in a vague gesture of solidarity and because Sirius was there and had offered. The second dwindled away amidst the silence that had fallen over the close and cool cellar and their attempts to shake it away with conversation. James, without fail, interrupted every such attempt, stirring from his apparent sleep-daze to deliver over-enunciated non-sequiturs.
"Better be right about that vodka," James intoned, and Remus looked to Sirius. "What say we get him back?" Sirius nodded and was up immediately, throwing a shoulder under a Potter arm. "Upsie, Jamesie, you lug." His cheeks were puffed out momentarily and were pink, as though touched by brush, or fingers. Remus took the other side.
James could walk when they had him upright but only with great concentration. When they got to the trapdoor Sirius leaned forward, as though James wasn't there or at least suspended in a stupefied charm, and said, "We could chuck him down and then mend his bones back together." Remus grinned, said "That would have been a good idea, earlier," then felt a bit stupid and hefted James up and rearranged him on his shoulder. In the end, Sirius went down first, grabbing hold of James' legs as Remus eased him down. It took a full ten minutes to get James to release his grip on the hole, during which Remus coaxed, Sirius demanded, Remus played Ten Little Pigs with James' fingers, Sirius (and therefore James) shook with laughter, Remus said, "Okay, maybe just let go?" and Sirius did and James fell.
Standing over the prone form of their friend in a very poorly lit dirt tunnel served to bring certain small issues into focus for Remus - they would be returning to the castle late, with a Head Boy who was filthy and, if not incoherent, certainly highly unconventional in his current approach to speech and eye contact. On top of that they all smelt as if they'd spent the day drinking in a public house or, alternatively, just lolled around in the cellar of one.
"Do we have a plan?" he asked.
"Get him to the dorm by the shortest route possible before he passes out, I'd say."
"And if we run into anyone?'
"We do all the talking and James reveals his new, quietly authoritative self." Sirius said it like it was completely obvious but then stopped, glanced at Remus. "Yes?"
"Yeah, I suppose." Remus still wasn't entirely convinced, but they'd been in much, much worse jams. He pointed his wand at James and chanted a cleaning spell. "Can't hurt," he said, turning his wand on himself and Sirius. He sniffed his collar and wasn't really surprised to find he still smelt like a distillery. "Ready?"
They picked James up, who said lazily "Where'd my veela go?" and then much more clearly, "My head hurts." Sirius responded with "Keep your mouth shut unless we say otherwise, okay?" as he planted James' hands on his shoulders and they moved off along the passageway in single file.
"Yes. I will be" - James paused, breathed - "fine. Fine."
The journey was slow but uneventful and miraculously they were able to fall into step with each other, leaving Remus to wonder what would happen to James if they did encounter a teacher and how fine a robe could look even in the weak glow of wand light.
They reached the end of the tunnel and Sirius reached back to steady James. "Alright, quiet, now," Remus whispered even though James had been so silent for the last half hour he half expected an alcohol-induced stupor. They bunched up together and listened, several long minutes, until Sirius took his wand and tapped the stone barrier. It disappeared and he stepped out carefully before giving the all clear.
The fresh air was a relief and all the tension Remus had accrued from an evening of unexpected claustrophobia and otherwise dissipated. "I think it will be okay," he said quietly over James, propped loosely between them now, with just a hand of each to keep him steady. Sirius turned to him and nodded, and Remus fancied he could feel the cloth between their hands tighten as they pushed James forward.
The journey across the castle and up two flights of stairs was a breeze. At that point, however, their not-quite plan was severely compromised by clear words ringing out against the stone walls, floors and ceiling. "Stop there, Potter, stop right there!" Sirius and Remus muttered "Fuck" quickly under their breaths and even James was with it enough to react, although he did so with a clearly intoned "Sod biscuits."
McGonagall was bearing down on them and there seemed no escape, not with James' behaviour now sliding from unconventional to nuts. Remus held tight and prepared for the worst.
"Where have you been, Potter?" McGonagall asked, confronting him and looking him up and down. Without waiting for an answer she adjusted her glasses and looked from Sirius to James to Remus and back again, addressing them collectively. "Where have you all been?" She sniffed at the air, ominously.
"We've just been out in the greenhouses, Professor," Sirius said calmly, looking her in the eye. "Special project for Professor Verdante."
She considered this a moment before turning her gaze on Remus. He stared back with as much blankness as he could muster. Her eyes crinkled, as if she couldn't decide where that piece of the puzzle fitted, before swooping back onto James. "Is this correct, Potter? Is this why you didn't keep your appointment in my office?" Hazarding a glance, Remus saw that James' eyes were wide open and utterly unfocussed, even behind his glasses. A terrible fate was now surely but moments away.
Boredom stamped all over his face, Sirius prodded at James. "Go on, tell the professor that we were indeed where Sirius said we were." That earned a genuine McGonagall glare but her eyes skipped instantly back to James, who was opening and shutting his mouth, like he intended to speak but wasn't sure how to go about it. The two bodies on either side of him tensed.
"He's right, professor - really," he finally managed. His eyes opened wider, as though shocked, and he went on, elaborating. "They're right, completely right."
"Are you perfectly well, Potter?" McGonagall asked, stepping forward, "You smell odd. If I find that you -"
Remus cut her off by stumbling forward and crying out, "It's m'fault, professor. Mine. There's nothing for me. I, I ... what will I do, when school finishes? No one will want me, no. There's nothing for me, nothing, no future, no ..." he drifted off into gulping hysteria.
"Oh my dear boy, keep your voice down!" McGonagall said in hushed tones, stepping across to steady him by the elbow.
"I'm sorry, so sorry. I'm always messing things up." He swung his head around and saw that Sirius had a hold of James and was saying something in his ear, all the while looking calm yet concerned. "I saw the drink and I just wanted it to end. Professor?" He fixed her with pained, plaintive eyes.
"He's right," Sirius put in, smartarse tone all gone. "We found him like this behind Greenhouse 3. We just wanted to get him back to the dorm as quietly as possible." James pushed his glasses up, coughed and nodded solemnly, or absently, depending on perspective.
"Well," she said, sparing James only the briefest of glances before continuing on briskly. "Well, I'll talk to you about this later, Potter. Now it would be best if I took Lupin and saw he receives proper attention." With that she dismissed them, but Sirius came around to help settle Remus against her. Remus felt his hands against his side and the small of his back.
As McGonagall whispered to him as they walked away, Remus turned his head to see Sirius pulling James up from his comatose position against the wall. He grinned.
*
James further demonstrated his perfect sense of timing by regaining consciousness after Sirius had hauled him up the stairs to the dorm and after he had pushed him onto the bed, got his shoes and robe off and manoeuvred him under the covers. Through all this Sirius had been explaining the evening's events - the salient bits - to Peter, and James, once ensconced in his soft, warm bed, took it upon himself to register the presence of his hitherto absent friend and indulge in some overdramatic hugging and some "Pete, you're my best mate, she's just nonsense, isn't she?" nonsense. Sirius let him carry on for fifteen minutes before forcing two glasses of water down his throat and leaving Peter to it. He went downstairs to the common room, now empty, and sat on the couch, the fire burning lazily in front of him. He stood up and removed his black felt robe.
Remus came in about midnight, looking tired but luminous as ever. "Well, I'm so far beyond sober."
Sirius grinned. "What happened?"
"She took me back to her office, gave me two draughts of sobriety potion - and insisted that I wait there for two hours so they'd take effect - and counselled me about how she'd never hold anything against me and I was a very talented wizard and most certainly not a burden on society."
"I always knew you were her favourite," Sirius said in an easy banter.
"Yeah." Remus was shrugging off his school robes. "How's James?" he asked, sinking heavily onto the couch.
"Drunk, in bed and dead to the world I can only hope." Remus laughed, and Sirius was only reminded of how spectacularly bad the night had turned out.
"How much does he owe me, you reckon?"
"As much as you can take him for."
"He owes me a lot, I think," Remus said, his head back, eyes softly closed.
'A lot', Sirius thought. A lot of what? A lot of hassle with McGonagall? A lot of hanging around unnecessarily in damp cellars and dank tunnels? A lot of boring moral support for piss-weak, lovelorn friends? He sank back against the couch, too, feeling aimless and distracted. He eyes settled upon the curve of Remus' lashes, shaking slightly in the firelight and with his steady breaths. Not a lot of sitting in familiar pubs with familiar friends and finding the courage to see what might happen.
"I suppose it's too late for that drink?" he found himself asking.
Remus turned open eyes on him, query written over his face. Sirius cleared his throat. "I pinched a bottle of brandy." Remus breathed in, impressed or at the very least pleased. "I think that would be a fine thing before bed," he said. He said it like the words themselves were delicious things.
His robe was draped over the back of the couch, and Sirius had to rummage to find the bottle. He gripped and heard the lid snap, grinned and tossed back a mouthful. Heat rushed through his head, and he could feel it settle in his cheeks and lips. Remus in turn took a slow, appreciative mouthful. They were both smiling, and Sirius leaned into the old faded chintz thinking, he's right, this is a fine way to spend an evening, even if the other didn't work out.
"She mentioned an organisation that Dumbledore has put together," Remus said conversationally. "A secret thing."
"That's a good idea."
"I think so."
Sirius didn't know what else to say.
Remus changed the subject. "Hopefully Lily will just say yes soon, I'm getting sick of this." Before Sirius could respond to that, Remus had cleared his throat. "I'm getting sick of this," he repeated. Sirius swung around to investigate this statement and met with a direct, steady gaze. It threw him off-kilter. "So ..." Remus said and moved nearer, resting his arm along the couch top, leaning in. He hovered close a moment, and Sirius lost his panic and kissed him.
It was good, but the smell of Remus, the brush of his hair along the edge of his face, the way he breathed across his lips when he drew back and waited, that was as good or better. "You smell-" Sirius wanted to say wonderful and after a moment's hesitation did. "Wonderful. I wanted to say earlier but I wasn't sure ..." Remus pressed his cheek against his, talked to his hair, his ear, the air. "It's okay." He stilled, then laughed. "James told me already."
"I hate James," Sirius said.
"We officially hate James," Remus confirmed, drawing back a little to catch Sirius' eye, amusement glinting in his own. Without ado he brought his lips to Sirius' again, placing a hand to his neck, a first touch after a night of close contact. Sirius pulled him even closer.
Without wanting or intending to absolve James, Sirius had to admit that this by far exceeded the expectations he'd had for their night at The Three Broomsticks.
The brandy was not forgotten and they passed it between them in the dying firelight, around conversation and kisses and perfect silence.
"How much longer, you reckon?" Sirius pondered.
"What?" Remus had his arms wrapped around his drawn-up legs, shoes kicked off long before.
"Lily, before she cracks?"
"She is cracked. She's a head case, after all." Sirius laughed, not surprised by that response. For on finding that both James and Lily had made the grade with Dumbledore, Remus had dispensed with Head-Boy-and-Head-Girl and settled on the collective-friendly Head Cases. Remus continued. "Not long. He's got to be wearing her down now he has official access."
"That is one thing James excels at," Sirius said with grudging admiration. He turned an unguarded eye on Remus.
"Are you ogling me?" The question was purely inquisitive.
"I might be," Sirius said non-committedly
"By the way, I like the robe," Remus said casually.
"Like?"
"Wonderful," he conceded.
*
James Potter woke feeling rested and wide-eyed, if a little displaced. Perhaps he had slept too long - he must have gotten to bed straight after the meeting with Lily, before that meeting he had with -
"Shit!"
"Shut! Up!" Remus yelled, though it was muffled by his pillow.
"I stood up McGonagall!" shouted James.
"She doesn't need you, mate," Peter said, standing by his trunk and buttoning up a shirt.
"What?!" James exclaimed from his mess of bedclothes. He didn't wait for an answer. "She'll have my head!"
"Good riddance," Sirius said from his bed, where he was reclined like a king, hands behind his head.
"She'll have my badge!" James was pulling at his hair now. "Lily won't have me without the badge!"
"As we all know, she won't have you anyway," Sirius said, throwing a satisfied look at Peter.
"What are you saying? She wants me." It was said with great conviction.
Remus groaned.
"James, last night -" Peter began.
"Well you better be on your way if you want to make amends," Sirius butt in, grinning and catching Peter's eye again. "Chop chop." James fled the room in a flurry of robes and ties and clunking shoes.
"We'll tell him later," Sirius announced, rolling onto his side. Peter chuckled. "Good, because he needs to pay," Remus said, lifting his pillow to find Sirius smiling at him from the adjacent bed. "Head case," Remus mouthed and Sirius laughed.
~*~