The Marauders: Year Seven Part Two

Undiulated Murtlap Oil

April continued on, wet and dreary, the castle seemed darker and colder than usual as winds came off the lake, gusts strong enough that Dexter and Wally were overheard laughing because Ollie had been knocked clean over on the way down to the Care of Magical Creatures class. Every morning, James watched apprehensively as owls flew into the Great Hall and shouts came from excited seventh year students from the other house tables as they received acceptances to Uni. He kept his eyes trained on his bacon, avoiding Sirius's eyes.

While there wasn't any fighting or angry words being passed between the Marauders, there was a strange kind of unease in which Sirius seemed desperate to spend as much time as possible away from the other four, even from Remus, who grew more and more sullen as the days wore on with Sirius distracted elsewhere. As they passed by the first quarter of the moon cycle, Remus's irritation with the situation only grew, and as cranky as he'd started out, he only grew worse.

"Where the hell've you been?" he asked in a clipped tone as Sirius came laughing through the portrait hole late one evening. Remus was sitting by the fire, revising, while James had fallen asleep sprawled over the couch, a textbook laying over his face where it had landed after a wingardium leviosa had worn off slowly. Sirius waved for DWO to head along upstairs, taking the Marauder's Map back from Wally was they scrambled off. Remus watched as Sirius walked over and sank tiredly into the chair opposite him. "I asked - where the hell've you been?" he repeated, voice a bit firmer.

"Out mucking about," Sirius said with a shrug.

"You should've been here - revising like the rest of us." Remus shook his head, looking back down at the book on his lap, leaning his temple on his fist. He stared at the words that he was too angry to see.

Sirius scoffed, "Okay dad, whatever you say."

Remus's eyes rolled up to look at Sirius instead of the page.

"You and James are like fucking broken records," Sirius said, rolling his eyes dramatically and flopping his leg up over the arm of the chair. He leaned back so he was laying across the arms dramatically, staring up at the ceiling. "It doesn't really matter what I get on the N.E.W.T.'s, remember? I'm not acceptable at any university that I'm interested in."

"You can apply for next term, after you've achieved good marks on the exams," Remus pressed, "Just because you don't get an early acceptance --"

"It isn't about the ruddy exams, is it? They know what my family's like and nobody decent is willing to take me on. Some of them think I'm like them, and the other half think I'm not, and depending where they stand on the issue of bloody purity, either they're worried my folks will attack them because they heard I've gotten in and they want me dead or else that I'll attack them because that's what the Blacks do."

"Did one of them actually say that or is this all in your head?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, actually."

Sirius stared at the fire. "Well. That's what they mean anyway. We regret to inform you... Regret, my swollen arsehole," he said, snorting, "They don't bloody regret a damned thing."

Remus was quiet, biting his lip. Then, "Well maybe instead of goofing off, then, you ought to be thinking about what you do intend to do next year."

Sirius closed his eyes, "Perhaps I will go into the woods, gather a basket of bowtruckles, move to the country, and tend to them."

"Sirius."

"What?"

Remus gave him a look of expectation.

"What do you want from me, Moony?" Sirius demanded, "I haven't got it figured out yet and I've got plenty of time. Alright? It's only April, for Merlin's sake."