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A Full Blown Event


“Oi. Dancing Queen. Where do you reckon you’re going?” James caught Sirius’s elbow in the corridor outside of Gryffindor Tower that evening as everyone was leaving for dinner.

“Down to the bloody Great Hall, where else?” Sirius demanded.

“Please!” James said, rolling his eyes, “That’s where the common folk take dinner. But not us. Not tonight. Nay. Tonight -- tonight, Sirius, there’s a special dinner for ya, mate.” He threw his arm about Sirius’s shoulders in a very-Sirius-like move and Sirius grinned as James waved his palm out - imitating something Sirius had actually done on many, many occasions. “You see, tonight, Messer Padfoot, you are being celebrated, you are being honoured. Tonight, my darling harem, you’re attending a rather private dinner party. Come along.”

Sirius smirked, “You’ve got the gestures all wrong.”

Actually, James had them perfect.

He led Sirius down the corridor to the stairs and they travelled their way until they’d gotten to the painting of the troll ballerinas and James grinned and winked at Sirius and cleared his throat. “We’re here for Sirius Black’s special dinner… we’re here for Sirius Black’s special dinner… We’re here for Sirius Black’s special dinner!” he told the wall and the gold threads of the edges of the door blossomed over the wood, cut through the wall paper, and gleamed, glowing, shining until the door handle popped out of the wall and James reached for it, smirking, and pulled it open.

Sirius stepped inside to find that all of their friends who had agreed to be in the Order of the Phoenix were there - or at least most of them. It was Frank and Ali and Lily and Marlene McKinnon and Emmaline Vance and Andy Woodhouse and Tobias Clement and Jackson Maw. McKenna Alliston and Harry Warbeck, and Alabaster Jackson. Notable exceptions were Marty Brown and Jessica Abbott, both of whom had graduated the year before, and Jasper Odair, who, of course, wasn’t there.

But what was there was a lovely, steaming plate full of Mrs. P’s roast and potatoes and carrots and James grinned as Sirius let out a hoot of glee. “YES!” he yelled and he danced about to the head of the table, with James guiding him along, and he grabbed a hold of Remus Lupin’s tie as he danced into his place, “Did you know of this all day and didn’t tell me, Moonshine?” Sirius demanded.

“What?” Remus said, “And spoil your birthday present?”

Sirius ate loads of Mrs. P’s roast with vigor.

Mrs. P’s roast wasn’t the only gift Sirius received for his birthday. He also got three lovely vests - one in black, one in brown, and one in Gryffindor red - and all three of them had the watch pocket that he’d wanted sewn in and he grinned and shrugged off his leather jacket to tug one on over his t-shirt (he was wearing one he’d made - a bright red with white letters that he had magicked on that read Birthday Boy over his torso) and left the buttons undone but slid the watch into the little pocket and strung the chain over the fabric like is traditional to do and he grinned, “I’m rather distinguished now!” he announced. He also got fresh Gryffindor stationary and several boxes of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans, as well as several new cartridges for the stereo.

His favorite, of course, was still the watch that Mrs. P had given to him because it was a family heirloom that tied his old family to his new one and it was the first time in all of his life that Sirius had not felt ashamed to be a Black. He polished the watch with his sleeve and looked at it before tucking it back into it’s pocket home and smiling about as everyone enjoyed the birthday dinner and talked and laughed.

Remus reached over and laid a palm over Sirius’s hand and when Sirius looked at him, Remus smiled and said, “Happy Birthday, love,” he said. “Are you having a good time?”

Sirius smiled and turned his hand over to lace his fingers through Remus’s. “The best,” Sirius replied.




Meanwhile, Edgar Odair stood in the doorway of the room his brother was staying in at the Lupin House and he stared at Jasper’s back, afraid.

It had been far from the ecstatic reunion that Edgar - and everyone else - had expected for the brothers. Jasper had yet to acknowledge that Edgar was there when he tried to speak to his brother...

Jasper had been out of Azkaban for four days now, but he didn’t seem to realize it. He lay in the bed, the covers pulled tight around him, and he rocked, murmuring to himself in a rhythmic pattern of I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it and hugged his knees. Mrs. Potter had used cool cloths to wash Jasper’s face, trying to break him out of the state he was in, and she had sat by his side for hours just to keep him company. She’d tried to hold his hand, but he’d drawn it away and tucked it beneath his own arm, hugging himself as he rocked.... Protecting himself against dementors that weren’t there.

Edgar walked carefully ‘round the foot of the bed to Jasper’s side and he bent down so he could see Jasper’s face, his vacant eyes and his lips moving over the words as he murmured… Edgar reached out a trembling hand to put it on his brother’s shoulder. “Jasper?” he asked quietly.

But Jasper only rocked harder, only doubled his efforts to mutter that he didn’t do it.

Edgar had overheard Mr. Potter downstairs earlier that morning talking to Dorcas Meadowes, who had come upon Mr. Potter’s request to try talking to Jasper, but even her efforts had gone without reaction. “What are we going to do?” Charlus had asked her.

“I don’t know,” she answered. “People don’t usually come back from Azkaban. Certainly not when they’ve been there so long as he’s been there…” Dorcas had said, “I’ll come back again tomorrow and try again.” She’d hesitated, then, “I left some anti-anxiety potion up stairs in his room, and a couple vials for good sleep. Those may help.”

“You don’t think the damage is… is permanent?” whispered Charlus.

Edgar had pressed his cheek closer to the bannister rungs on the stairs, where he was sitting, eavesdropping.

“I don’t know,” Dorcas had said, “But if he isn’t improving by the end of the week, he may benefit from… from a visit to St. Mungo’s… one of the other healers might… might be better at hleping him.” Her voice had trembled over the words.

Edgar reached out and put his hand on Jasper’s arm. “Please get well again Jasper,” he begged. “I don’t want you to go to St. Mungo’s. That’d be as bad as Azkaban, I’ll bet.” Edgar laid his cheek against the pillow and stared into Jasper’s eyes. ‘Please Jasper, get well again.”

“I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it…”

“I know you didn’t do it, Jasper,” Edgar said. “We all know you didn’t do it… I did it.”

Jasper rocked and rocked.

Edgar crawled up beside him, like he used to do when he had nightmares. LIke he did the night all of this started. Edgar grabbed his brother’s arm and tugged it away from his chest, where he’d tucked it, and though Jasper struggled to pull it back and whimpered don’t, don’t, please don’t, Edgar hugged his brother and put Jasper’s arm around himself. “It’s gonna be okay, Jasper,” he said thickly. “You have to be okay.”

Jasper shook.

Edgar closed his eyes.




Sirius Black’s birthday was not just an occasion - it was a full blown event. Gryffindor Tower was awake all night celebrating and Sirius’s cheeks burned red with excitement. He absolutely thrived being the center of attention and made sure to keep himself planted firmly there by being impossibly loud and singing wildly atop the homework table with anyone that would accompany him there beneath a shower of shimmering gold confetti that James had bewitched to rain down over the celebration.

It was during one of the many times that Sirius restarted Dancing Queen (“it’s my birthday song, get over it Frank!”) that Lily sat watching as he pulled James and the other Marauders up onto the table and all four of them were dancing (some more awkwardly than others - the most awkward being poor Remus who looked stiff from both sore bones and also intense shyness). She stared up at James as his hair kept falling over his flushed face.

“Are you alright, Lily?” Oliver asked suddenly. He was sitting on the chair nearest the fire.

“What?” she looked over at him, “Oh… yes, yes Ollie, I’m alright.”

“Are you sure?”

Lily nodded.

Ollie looked over at the table, at the dancing Marauders and he looked back at Lily, seeing she was watching James again, and Ollie said, “How come you aren’t with James Potter?”

Lily looked at Ollie again. “It’s complicated.”

“You like him though, don’t you?”

Lily shook her head. She couldn’t even say she didn’t like him anymore. But she was afraid of what might happen if she said she did, and so it was safer not to say anything at all. “I’m going to bed, Ollie,” she said, getting up. She patted the boy’s blonde hair gently, “Goodnight.”

“Night,” Ollie replied.




Later, when it was so late that it was morning and actually nearly dawn, Lily woke up in her bed, choking for air. She sat up, breathless, tears in her eyes, and her heart racing. She’d had the dream again. James Potter laying on the cement floor of a cell, crying out for help, and her, unable to do anything, no matter how she tried, no matter what spells she cast. She shivered as she remembered that horrible pool of blood beneath him and the weakness to his voice.

Honestly, she’d been having the dream longer than she’d have ever admitted to.

The first time had been the night he’d come to her house, back at holiday the year before, when she’d come carrying that bouquet of bluebells and mums and the snowglobe… She looked over at the globe. She’d dreamed of him that night, and several nights since then, and the more she wanted him, the more the dreams came, until now they were coming very near to every night and she shivered as she stared at the little deers in the snowglobe, as the flecks of white fell over them and they munched grass quietly.

She couldn’t push the image of him out of her mind. Bleeding and broken and begging… and her stomach twisted up into a knot. Quickly, she pushed herself out of bed and kicked on her slippers and hurried for the door of her dormitory.

She had to see that James was okay and safe in his bed or she’d never be able to sleep.

Lily tiptoed into the common room to find many of the Gryffindors had fallen asleep there instead of going to their beds. Peter Pettigrew was on his back on the big table and Frank and Ali were in one of the cushioned chairs together, Ali curled ‘round Frank’s side. She looked about and finally found what she was looking for… James, asleep on the couch.

Lily crept over to his side and knelt down on the carpet beside him. He looked so peaceful, his jaw all square and full and his eyelids jittering slightly as he dreamed. Lily reached up and carefully slid his glasses from his nose, folding the frames gently and put them on the coffee table beside her, and she brushed her fingers softly over his cheek. He groaned a little and shifted and she drew her hand back, afraid to disturb him. She stared down as he resettled himself with a deep sleep sort of sigh, rolling so he was on his side and Lily sighed and reached for a blanket, bringing it up over James so keep him warm and she sat back down on the floor and leaned against the couch, her back to him, and she hugged her knees.

“I do like you, Potter,” she whispered, “I do. And I’m sorry if I make you feel like I don’t.” She stared at his glasses, at the reflection of him in the lenses, and she sighed. “Because I do… I do so much.” She felt tears threaten her eyes and she buried her face into her arms.




Upstairs, Remus was stroking Sirius’s hair as Sirius lay pressed against his chest, fingers gently tracing the lines of the scars that sliced over Remus Lupin’s skin. Sirius kissed Remus’s sternum and Remus bent forward to kiss Sirius’s forehead. Sirius snuggled his cheek back down against Remus’s skin and he yawned as he clutched onto him. “Moony,” he said, voice low as he ran his feet along Remus’s shins.

“Padfoot?” Remus asked quietly.

Sirius said, “Can we just stay here forever?”

“Alright,” Remus replied.

Sirius smiled. “Fantastic.”