He could have gone the Muggle way, of course. He could have taken the two trains, then the bus, and made the short walk to James’ house, although, if he had done, it would have taken him forever to get there. As Remus alighted from his broomstick in a deserted field some way outside of James’ home town, he watched a flock of birds, that he had been flying alongside only moments before, continuing to twist their way across the purple sky towards the dying sun. It had been freezing, flying on New Year’s Eve. Remus had spent most of the journey desperately attempting to re-tie his scarf and trying to stop his hat from slipping in front of his eyes. Lucky James and Sirius hadn’t seen him, he now thought to himself as, tucking his broomstick under one arm, he set off in the direction of the twinkling town lights on the crest of the hill. He never flew in front of them if he could help it, both of them being far more skilled at flying than he was. In fact, James was incredible. Ever since his first year, he had been able to do the sort of manoeuvres rarely even contemplated by the bravest of professional Quidditch players. Peter often told James that he was destined for stardom, clapping him on the back, and James himself rarely disagreed with him. It was times like that when Remus thought that maybe James’ harmless arrogance was actually fuelled by the Marauders themselves. Maybe they were all, in some way, to blame.
Remus followed the line of conifers down into the valley knowing that, at any moment, he would see the iron gate, which would lead him into the Potters’ back garden, appear in between the shrubbery. Remus, in all the time he had known James, had only ever been to his house twice before. There seemed so little point in out-of-school visits, when they saw so much of each other during term time anyway. Peter had never had the confidence to ask his parents whether or not his friends could come and stay, let alone pluck up the courage to actually invite the Marauders. Remus’ parents were always too nervous about drawing too much attention to themselves in the surrounding area to have too many wizards and witches in the house at one time. And Sirius - well, he had once, as they had all sat silently together in the library, asked them if they wanted to come for tea at Grimmauld Place, only to get them thrown out of the library for the laughter that had followed. James seemed to like having them around, Remus thought to himself as he turned off the main road and down a narrow cul-de-sac. He, more than Peter or Remus, seemed to keenly feel the loneliness of being an only child. Of course, things were different now; now that Sirius had moved in. Sirius was the only Marauder to have any siblings, although now, Remus supposed that Regulus didn’t really count. Over the years, Sirius and James had become so close that it wasn’t at all surprising that they were living as brothers. It hadn’t surprised Remus in the least that the Potters had invited Sirius to stay.
Remus propped his broomstick up inside the porch before wiping his feet and knocking on the door. The daylight was rapidly slipping away and a frost had already begun to dust the pathway with a silver sheen. Remus pulled his coat tighter around himself as he knocked again, a little louder than before, his breath freezing on the air as he waited. Eventually, Remus could hear movement from inside; footsteps rushing down the stairs; the sound of someone falling followed by a whimper of pain and strangled laughter. Finally, the door was opened and James beamed as he pulled Remus inside, slamming the door with a great thud behind him. Peter had been the one who had fallen and now he was in the process of untangling himself from the muddle of cloaks he had pulled down with him from the pegs. Sirius was standing at the top of the stairs, leaning against the banister, arms folded across his chest.
“Good Christmas, Moony?” Peter asked, eventually managing to sort himself out.
Remus took off his coat, hat and scarf and hung them on an empty peg before replying, “It was alright. It’s freezing out.”
“Yeah, I flew here too. I was going to get the train, but…”
“Mummy couldn’t trust him,” Sirius interjected. Sirius had yet to meet Remus’ eye, even though he had been looking right at him ever since he had entered. None of them had spoken since they had left platform nine and three quarters, and even then it had been a sort of rushed goodbye.
“Shut it, Padfoot, for a minute,” James said, clapping Remus hard on the back, half guiding him up the stairs.
Sirius sighed, rolling his eyes before retorting impatiently, “Look, you better ask him soon, before you get so far stuck up his…”
“Ask me what?” Remus was instantly suspicious. No wonder James had automatically jumped to Peter’s defence instead of joining in; he was trying to get Remus on side. There was something that they wanted Remus to do. James still had one arm over Remus’ shoulder as they began to climb the creaking staircase.
“There’s just something I need a little help with. You’re by far the best at this sort of thing out of any of us…” Sirius, who was ahead of them, scoffed. James scowled at the back of Sirius’ head before continuing; “Besides, we’ve got plenty of time…”
“James’ parents have gone away for the night.” Peter’s voice was tinged with excitement as James reached up to pull down the ladder which led to the attic. “We’ve got the whole house to ourselves!”
“They’ve gone to some big party in London. Something to do with the Ministry…I think they thought that if you were here, Moony, you’d be able to exert some sort of control.”
“But we’ve got some Firewhiskey that I stole from my dad’s cabinet…” Peter had now pulled himself into the attic room and was bobbing up and down excitedly. “We’re really going to see the New Year in…”
“You really are such a simple creature, aren’t you, Wormtail?” Sirius snapped from the opposite side of the room, and Remus pulled himself up just in time to see him flop down on one of the cushions that were strewn across the floor. Peter said nothing, although he was clearly hurt, as he sat down on a low, wicker chair, picking up a copy of the Daily Prophet and beginning to read. It was wrong of Sirius to talk to Peter like that. He may have been slightly annoying, from time to time, but Peter was still their friend. Yet before Remus could say anything, James was crouching down on the floor next to Sirius, pushing towards Remus whatever it was that he needed help with.
“You’re joking, right…” Remus said, lifting his eyes to James, who was eagerly awaiting more of a response. Remus then looked at Sirius, who was now lying idly across the floor, quietly charming a feather that had shot out of one of the pillows he had sat on, so that now it floated gently on the air. “Is this why you kept stealing from Slughorn’s store?”
“Oh, come on ,Moony, we’ve all had a go at it, but we just can’t get it to go right.” James flicked through the copy of Advanced Potions for the Average.
“You know I won’t help you make it,” Remus said. Sirius’ eyes did not leave the feather. James slammed his book shut.
“I told you, didn’t I, Prongs, but you wouldn’t listen, would you?” Sirius said. “You would have been better off asking Snape.”
“Maybe I would have if I had his address.”
Sirius forgot about the feather and sat up, a barely contained smile tracing his lips as he replied maliciously, “Well, I’m sure Lily would have it…why don’t you owl and ask her?”
James threw a pillow, which, laughing, Sirius dodged. Peter had long ago left the copy of the Daily Prophet forgotten by his chair, and had moved across the room to be closer.
“Please, Remus…just help me out…I’ll never ask you for anything again, I swear.”
Remus raised an eyebrow. “I think we both know that that’s a lie.” Peter nodded vigorously beside them. “And besides, do you really think you need Amortentia to get Lily to like you? It’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?”
James sighed heavily, kicking his Potions book in frustration before standing. “Well, if you can think of any other way, tell me because I’m sick to bloody death of it. I don’t know how it can hurt to give it a try. You may think it’s desperate “ well, then…I guess that makes me desperate, too.”
Peter twitched nervously, his eyes moving between James and Remus; James who was standing, and Remus who was seated in front of the cauldron and the books. Remus looked for Sirius, who had long ago picked up a Quidditch magazine, and now, seemed to be giving this his utmost attention. It would be wrong, Remus told himself, staring down into the cauldron; no-one deserved to be tricked into love against their will. Yet James was looking so desperate. And, after all, it was New Year’s Eve. Sirius’ eyes became visible over the top of the magazine; he could sense that Remus was relenting.
Eventually, Remus took off his shoes and, after peering down into the cauldron for a second time, he said quietly, “Well, it’s the wrong temperature for a start.” Sirius was laughing behind his magazine; Peter clapped his hands excitedly; and James, who had been nervously pacing the room, suddenly flung himself down next to Remus to watch.
An hour had passed and finally Remus had managed to salvage James’ potion; a potion which, however hard James professed, bore absolutely no resemblance to Amortentia. Remus had to start virtually from scratch. The whole time, James had been thanking Remus; Sirius had sat in virtual silence, occasionally unable to refrain from insulting his friends. Finally, the potion was finished and now the four Marauders sat, gazing down into the cauldron, each watching with fascination the shimmering liquid, which was sending spirals of mist up into the air.
“That’s it…” James said, comparing the potion he saw in front of him with the description in the book. “That’s exactly what it’s supposed to look like…”
“Well, what now?” Peter asked. Remus shrugged. Maybe he hadn’t really thought this through. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so easily convinced…god knows what James was planning to do now. Luckily, as Remus looked at him, he was almost certain that James hadn’t really thought this through either, as he was now looking desperately at Sirius.
“I hadn’t really thought about it…Padfoot…what do you think?”
“This was your bright idea, Prongs, not mine. Besides,” he said, suddenly springing into life, walking across the room to where Peter’s belongings were and rummaging through the bags, “I’m bored of just sitting, watching Remus make a potion. It’s New Year’s Eve…where’s that Firewhiskey you were boasting about, Wormtail?”
Peter went to speak, but Remus spoke instead, addressing Sirius for the first time since he had entered James’ house. “You shouldn’t just go through his things like that.” Sirius raised his eyes from the pile of bags to Remus then, to surprise of all the other Marauders, ignored him before continued to look.
“It’s here,” Peter said, rushing over to help Sirius. James stood, stretching away the pins and needles that had seized his legs and, with a flick of the wand, turned on all the lamps in the room, banishing the dark to the cold night outside. When Sirius returned with the bottle, James had produced four paper cups and was lining them up on the floor. Remus had never been a drinker; he had always hated the smell of Firewhiskey, never mind the taste, and as he watched Sirius fill up the cups with the burning, red liquid, Remus cringed. Peter took his cup and eagerly swirled the drink under his nostrils. Remus had never seen Peter drink. James and Sirius occasionally managed to commandeer bottles of Firewhiskey, stealing them from older students or swiping them from Slughorn’s desk. One night last year, James and Sirius had staggered back to the dormitory roaring drunk, smelling of alcohol, with their clothes covered in mud, sludge and water from where they had thought it suddenly a good idea to attempt to wrestle the Giant Squid. Remus had never been drunk and so he hardly expected James to think he would take the paper cup that he was now being offered. He smiled a refusal and James shrugged, kicking off his shoes before taking a brisk swig from his own cup. Peter was sipping his slowly, his whole face twisting with disgust with every mouthful he swallowed.
“Are you always such a bloody puritan?” Sirius was twisting his cup in his hand as he flicked through James’ LP’s. There was no doubt who had spoken.
“Not always,” Remus carefully responded, his eyes still on Sirius’ face, which was half shrouded in lamplight.
“He just doesn’t like drinking…” James too was watching his friend.
“It’s not really about not wanting to drink, though, is it, Remus?” Sirius’ attention was finally on Remus; he seemed to have suddenly forgotten the LP’s he had been studying and was now glaring darkly at his friend. Remus could feel the anger rising within him; he thought they had made up when Sirius had come back from Grimmauld Place. They had agreed not to argue anymore. They had agreed to remember that they were friends. Yet now Sirius was attacking him once again; taunting him, tempting him into an argument he didn’t want to have. Sirius had always been impossible to ignore; a dull hatred seemed etched into every line of his face as he continued to articulate slowly, “It’s the same thing with the drink as it was with that potion. It’s not that you don’t want to do something…you just don’t want to do anything that would make you part of the group. Here we are, all friends, all alone on New Year’s Eve with a bottle of Firewhiskey that’s begging to be drunk. And here you are, trying to ruin everything.”
“Come on, Padfoot…” James’ voice was lost, however, as Remus could no longer ignore Sirius’ words.
“Hasn’t it occurred to you that maybe the reason I don’t drink, or don’t want to make Amortentia, is that I have a mind of my own? That maybe I think there’s more to life than just going along with what you want?”
Peter gasped and James stared dumbly at Remus, shocked at what he had just said. Sirius, however, was smiling. He had stooped to pick up Remus’ cup and was now holding a cup of Firewhiskey in each hand as he walked very slowly towards Remus. He held the cup out for Remus to take, the same curious smile upon his face as he said darkly, “Come on then, Remus. You have a mind of your own, don’t you?”
Remus hesitated before taking the cup that was offered, staring down at the pungent liquid. It would be so easy to go along; to briskly drain the contents of the cup. Yet if did that, he would be telling Sirius that everything was alright; that everything had been forgiven and they could simply forget all that had gone before. This was something that could not be resolved with a drink; Remus would never toast to that. He smiled as, very slowly, he began to pour his drink into Sirius’ empty cup. Sirius gave a sharp bark of laughter, before swiftly draining what had been Remus’ drink. Remus sat down in the low wicker chair. Sirius was already re-filling his cup.
Without you, I'm nothing by Clare Mansfield
Chapter Notes: New Year's Eve at the Potters. Peter's swiped some Firewhiskey, Sirius is determined to have a good night but James is more keen to get Remus' help with Potions...
Chapter Endnotes: If you're reading and enjoying this let me know! xxx