Chapter Text
Straight people don’t know what you’re about,
They put you down and shut you out;
You gave to me a new belief,
And soon the world will love you sweet leaf...
- “Sweet Leaf” Black Sabbath, 1971
Monday 25th October 1976
They had six days until Halloween, which meant six days to put their horrifically devious plan into action. First on the agenda was scoping out an adequate spot for the bonfire that was both far enough from school that no one would stumble across it but also not too far that the girls would question their intentions. They ended up finding just the place along the path and after that—were free to set the scene.
Returning to the Shrieking Shack was not Remus’ ideal way to spend their free time, but once he’d gotten to see for himself just exactly how they were going to scare the pants off the girls, he finally began to see the appeal. The plan was genius—and hard to bungle provided none of them broke character. Remus was a little nervous about that, but after Sirius had informed him he would be playing the role of ‘sleeper agent’—meaning he could be as irritated and pessimistic in front of the girls as usual—he’d been more than willing to throw his hat into the ring.
Naturally though, Halloween prep went beyond fake blood and pumpkins; any good and sane teenager knew there had to be ample drink in order for anyone to have a half-decent time. Sadly for the troupe of 4A, without Simeon to supply them their stash was running dangerously low.
“Are you sure we drank that entire bottle of vodka last week?” Remus asked, rifling through his cupboards.
“Yes,” James called, “I distinctly remember reliving the experience the next morning while hugging the toilet.”
“What about the brandy?”
“Do you mean the apricot or the cherry?”
“Either!”
“Gone.”
“Then why bother specifying?” Remus grunted as he pulled his wardrobe hutch away from the bedroom wall and reached behind it, returning with a half-litre bottle of whisky that was relatively untouched. “Found one!” He declared, waving the booze in the air for James to see.
“And look what I found!” James said, untucking himself from beneath his bed to reveal a few spliffs wrapped up in a plastic baggy.
“Please do not tell me you found that in your football kit,” Remus grimaced.
“What—it hides the smell!” James said dejectedly, tossing the weed on his bed and going back to his search.
“There’s that bit of white rum in the bathroom cupboard,” Peter supplied from his own bed where he was working on his latest art assignment.
“What’s it doing in there?” James asked.
“Don’t you remember? You and Sirius dared each other to use it as mouthwash.”
“No wonder we have a shortage,” Remus said, making James snort. Standing, he went to the bathroom to have a look for himself and found the rum tucked up between a wrinkled tube of toothpaste and a bottle of Peter’s aftershave—which had regrettably never been opened. When he returned to the room he tossed the booze onto James’ bed along with his wardrobe-whisky and stood back to examine their small haul of illegal substances; one bottle of port wine courtesy of Mr. and Mrs. Pettigrew’s wine cellar, half a litre of rum that had once been a full litre, the whisky, a few measly spliffs, and their leftover tobacco and rolling papers. All together he figured it would last them till the end of the month if they were lucky—but it wasn’t nearly enough for Halloween as well as Sirius’ seventeenth.
“Maybe Black’ll surprise us and go cold-turkey before his birthday,” James supplied, popping up next to him with one of his football trainers in hand. He dug through it a moment before pulling out another zippo and adding it to the pile with a shrug.
“A meteoroid would have a better chance of hitting the Great Hall,” Remus scoffed. “It’s not enough.”
“I searched Sirius’ side and he’s fresh out too. Should we get Mary to ask around?”
“Already did. Her resources are dryer than ours after her boot went off to uni last term.”
James tsked. “What about that Xeno guy? He supplied Sim a bit didn't he?”
Remus considered. From what he’d managed to gather about the reclusive drug-dealing hippy, he didn’t fence for just anyone. Xeno’s coterie was just as exclusive as Lily’s precious Slug Club, which meant you had to know someone to get an in.
“James, isn't one of Xeno's roommates in your forms? Can you talk to him, maybe ask if Xeno would fence for us too?” He asked.
“You mean David?” James shook his head. “No, he doesn’t talk to anyone.”
“At all?”
“Not in forms anyway. Haven’t heard him say anything since last year.”
“I still don’t understand why we’re keeping it a secret from Sirius in the first place,” Peter called.
“Because it’s his birthday,” James said with a stubborn pout. “Last year was ruined by Snape and Filch—‘least we can do is make sure we have enough booze to get him properly knackered this time around.”
Remus nodded in agreement and Peter just shrugged. “Whatever you say. But James, can you turn this way a bit? I wasn’t done with your nose.”
“Sure thing.” Obliging, James struck a pose with both arms flexed and his nose turned up to the sky. Peter snorted and kept sketching with those quick little pencil movements of his. He was always most relaxed with a pencil in his hand—the most sure of himself.
“Pete,” Remus started, having reached a conclusion on his own, “when was the last time you talked to Sim?”
Peter’s mouth pinched a bit in concentration but he didn’t take his eyes off James. “Last month—he called on me and Lot’s birthday.”
“He say how Oxford’s going?” Asked James. “Dad wants me to think about applying there for university. That or Cambridge like him and mum.”
“He’s got a new girlfriend. That’s about all I know—turn toward the light a bit?”
While James acquiesced, Remus held a hand to his mouth and stared down at their pitiful pile. No way it was enough. “Pete,” he said suddenly, “I think you need to get a hold of your brother.”
“Why…?”
“ ‘Cause we need an in—and he’s gonna give it to us.”
* * *
Three Days Later…It was almost refreshing to keep a secret from Sirius. Not because Remus didn’t ever do that, but because it was finally a secret for the only three of them to share. They’d all agreed to keep the Xeno plan a surprise for his birthday but not telling Sirius also meant that they didn’t run the risk of disappointing him should they be unsuccessful. Xeno was already a hard man to track down. He rarely came out of his smoke-included haze long enough to interact with anyone and when he did it was only to venture to whatever whimsey, philosophical class that peaked his fancy that day. They all figured he’d have been tossed out on his rear ages ago were he not the heir to one of the richest families in all of North-Eastern England.
Peter had managed to ring Simeon at school, and he was all too willing to call up his favourite candyman and put in a good word for them.
“No guarantees boys, but I promise to do what I can,” Simeon said through the phone. There was a lot of noise around them and it wasn’t hard to tell that he was having a party of his own, though what university parties looked like, Remus had no idea.
Afterwards it had turned into a waiting game. Wait for Simeon to get ahold of Xeno—wait for Xeno to get ahold of them. Simeon warned them against badgering him, saying ‘that’s not how the game is played. Play by the rules and then you get to reap the rewards’. Remus thought it was rather stupid they had to jump through so many hoops—back home in London all one needed to do was find the dealer and make sure they had enough cash on them. But the rich loved their traditions.
“Psst! PSST! Moony!”
Lifting his head off his hand, Remus glanced to his right, where Sirius was leaning across the aisle between their desks and trying to get his attention. They were in History, which normally wasn’t hard to zone out in, but Professor Binns’ was out on sick leave. As a result, one of the year 13 business and marketing teachers was filling in and rather than sticking to Binns’ surely-riveting daily itinerary, he’d dimmed the overhead lights and put on a film. Most of the students were thrilled by the news until the title card rolled by and they realised they were watching a documentary about disillusionment among the German troops of World War I. The rattling from the projector was louder than the film itself, but their substitute had already leaned back in his desk chair and appeared to have fallen asleep.
“Moony!” Sirius hissed again, flapping an arm at him. “What rhymes with ‘diatribe’?”
“What?” Remus whispered back.
“I can only think of ‘bribe’ but it isn’t working.”
Still confused, Remus took a moment to consider. “Describe…?”
Sirius’ eyes widened happily and he turned back to his notebook, scribbling in it. A few seconds later he was smiling and he turned back to him. “Now what about ‘obsolete’?”
“Concrete.”
“And ‘reputation’?”
Before Remus could answer a third time, Lily whipped around in her seat ahead of him to give Sirius a nasty glare. “You really can’t be quiet for five minutes, can you?”
Sirius pointed his pencil at the clock on the wall above the classroom door. “Au contraire, Evans—I’ve already been quiet for thirty-five minutes.”
“It’s a new record then,” Mary giggled, turning around in her seat ahead of Sirius to join in.
“You’re supposed to be paying attention to the movie,” Lily insisted quietly.
“Why? Haven’t you realised that Clank the Wank over there only put the thing on ‘cause he’s hung over? I mean look at him.”
They all turned back around to stare at the teacher, but as far as Remus could tell, he just had no interest in interacting or teaching them. He probably hated children all together, which wasn’t much different from most other business teachers.
“How do you know?” Mary asked, tilting her head a bit to get a better look.
“Call it an alcoholic’s intuition,” Sirius answered, still scribbling away. “I’ve seen my dad pissed enough times to know what a morning after looks like.”
Though Lily still appeared unconvinced, Mary shrugged and turned back around in her seat. “What are you doing anyway?” She asked, leaning forward to peek at what Sirius was writing.
“New song for me and Lupin’s band.”
“Ooh, really? Can I read it?”
“When it’s finished.”
“Aw c’mon, Black. I’ll sing it to you,” Mary hummed.
“Tempting, but no thanks, love.”
“Hmph. Stingy.”
Lily glanced back at Remus. “A band? You mean you’re actually taking this whole thing seriously now?”
“Maybe…”
“And the songs? Are they really any good?”
Remus’ lips tugged up into a smile. “They’re getting better. Yesterday Sirius managed to rhyme ‘magic’ with ‘manic’ and it actually sounded pretty decent.”
There was a sharp ripping noise that made all of them flinch as Sirius tore the page free from his notebook. “That’s right,” he bragged, “soon Moony and I are going to be halfway to a debut album.”
“You don’t even have a name,” Lily pointed out. “Unless you’re going with ‘Numpty #1 and Numpty #2’.”
“As long as I get to be number one,” Remus said.
“You’re always number one, Remus,” Mary said, “number one in our hearts.” She drew a heart in the air with her fingers for emphasis.
“Ditto,” Sirius said, folding the paper in half, “now Moony, take this and let me know what you think about the hook. I tried with that ‘sandpaper in our throats—sawdust in our lungs’ bit we talked about but I’m still not sure that—”
Suddenly the classroom lights flicked on, blinding them and making several students burst up in their seats from the naps they were surely enjoying not a moment before. The substitute, a crotchety old man named Dr. Gibbens, was standing across the room and glaring at the four of them with all the fury a tenured professor could muster.
“I thought I told everyone there was to be no talking. You, I hope that’s not a note in your hand.” Gibbens pointed a gnarled finger at Sirius as he moved to stand in front of the projector, where a team of German shoulders continued marching across the white of his dress shirt.
Sirius pulled his arm back immediately. “No. Just some rubbish.”
Dr. Gibbens considered this before strolling out from behind the film’s glare and picking up the bin next to his desk. “Ah, well in that case…” He strolled forward down their line of desks, stopping next to Sirius and holding out the bin. “Allow me to help you throw it away.”
Sirius hesitated, and a look of sympathy passed over even Lily’s face.
“Unless you’d like to read whatever it is aloud?” The professor taunted.
Setting his jaw, Sirius slowly crumpled the paper in his fist and tossed it into the bin with a sour smile. “No, thanks for the help, sir.”
Their substitute dipped his head slightly in smug victory and returned to the front of the room. “No more chatter,” he ordered, flicking off the lights once more. Just as he did, the projector started spasming, and he had to turn them back on again as it began skipping the tape and making a loud screeching noise.
“Blasted machine!”
While their teacher went to the aid of the terribly depressing war film, Mary carefully turned around in her seat again. “I’m so sorry, Sirius,” she whispered, as Sirius leaned back in his chair, looking as put out as James whenever Arsenal lost.
“Why didn’t you just read it?” Lily murmured.
“I don’t bark on command,” Sirius grumbled. “And s’fine, I remember most of it anyway.”
“Quiet!” Gibbens snapped. Sirius sharply flipped him off from behind before glancing back to his notebook and putting pen to paper once more. Remus watched him, eager to get a hold of the drafted lyrics, but when Sirius finally passed him the next note behind their teacher’s back, he couldn’t read a word of it.
“Sirius, this is in French.”
“What did I just say?” Whirling around, Dr. Gibbens’ eyes instantly narrowed in on the note in Remus’ hand. “You!” He barked. “Enough of this nonsense! Stand up now and read the note aloud so we all might hear what’s so important that you need to interrupt the entire class!”
“Nooo… don’t read it…” Sirius said in a small, sarcastic voice before flashing Remus a lopsided smirk.
“I’m gonna throttle you,” Remus growled.
“UP!”
Reluctantly, he stood and felt the unnerving caress of twenty-five pairs of eyes on him. “Professor, I can’t read it,” he said.
“What are you daft, boy? Read the damn note so we might move on!”
Grinding his teeth together, Remus looked down and gave it his best shot; “Chair Monsieur Gibbens, jay—I mean—jie limpression… Er—kill est dee mon devour de voo informer de tr-troys choi...ses? Premiere-ment tah so-er mapple oh telephone, duce...me-ment tah femme mapple oh lit ey towahse-ment tah mer—mare...?” He broke off, defeated. "Do I really have to keep going, sir?"
If Dr. Gibbens had told him again that he was daft, he was positively sure the rest of the class would agreed with him. Every other student staring at him with open mouths and up-turned eyebrows. Mary’s face was pinched together with an embarrassed smile and Lily looked more confused than he’d ever seen her.
“Did you just speak in Klingon, Lupin?” The kid behind him asked.
Before Remus could ask what ‘Klingon’ was, Sirius burst out laughing.
“Alright,” Gibbens growled, crossing his arms over his chest, “you, the comically long-haired pillock, since you so obviously know what the note says, why don’t you enlighten the rest of us?”
Sirius stifled his laughter and shrugged, completely unbothered, before standing and taking the note back from Remus.
“Okay,” he hummed, clearing his throat as Remus threw himself back down at his desk; “Let’s see here… the note says, ‘Cher Monsieur Gibbens, j’ai l’impression qu’il est de mon devoir de tu informer de trois choses, premièrement ta sœur m’appelle au téléphone, deuxièmement ta femme m’appelle au lit, et troisièmement, ta mère’—and well, your mum... she just calls me ‘Daddy’.”
Before Sirius had even finished, Mary had clapped her hands over her mouth, instantly understanding his French. It took everyone else a moment longer but by the time they finally understood what might’ve just come out of his mouth, Sirius was already sitting back down and propping his feet on his desk with a sh*t-eating grin on his face.
“YOU…!” Gibbens raged, turning nearly purple in the face; “HALLWAY NOW!”
Sirius lazily dropped his feet back down without complaint and stood up. Before moving away, he held out his fist and Remus tapped it with his own, unable to stop smiling. While the rest of the class gaped or giggled, Dr. Gibbens marched him from the room and into the hall where he promptly let loose a verbal thrashing that could be heard through the walls.
“That idiot,” Lily sighed, shaking her head.
Remus opened the note. “Idiot, yes. But also an utter ledge.”
The rest of the class cheered when Sirius returned, smugly flouncing back into the room with his hands behind his head. Dr. Gibbens had to threaten everyone with their own detentions to get the class to settle, but it was clear Sirius was the winner of the day, punishment or not.
Both Remus and Sirius spent the first half of their dinner hour regaling the tale to Peter, who listened intently, disbelief clear on his face.
“One day you’re going to sass the wrong person, Black,” he warned, as Sirius lifted a spoonful of stew to his lips.
“Honestly can’t wait for that day,” Sirius said, “it’s hard being the main character in everyone else’s story.” He grimaced and shook his head. “Still needs more salt. Be right back.”
“Smug bastard,” Peter chuckled, turning back to Remus as Sirius lifted his tray and strolled across the dining room. “Did Mary ever say what the rest of the rest of the note said—the French bits?”
“Something about Gibbens’ wife calling his name in bed?”
Before Peter could laugh, James appeared at their table with his own tray and a massive grin on his face.
“We got it, lads!” He announced. “We got the appointment!”
“What appointment?” Peter asked, sipping from his juice mug.
“With Xeno!”
Remus perked up instantly. “Oh yeah?”
James nodded and slid into the table across from them. “David passed me a note today in forms.”
“Seems like there’s a lot of note-passing going on today,” Remus said, making Peter snort. “What’d it say?”
“Xeno invited us over to his room.”
“When?”
“Soon—tonight.” James checked his watch and winced. “We gotta ditch Sirius if we want it to stay a surprise.”
“Well how’re we gonna do that?” Peter asked.
Glancing across the room, he spotted Sirius was standing next to the condiments bar and chatting up another girl from their history class. Gloating, no doubt.
“Never rests, does he?” Remus murmured, before the startings of a devious idea began to materialise in the forefront of his mind. Notes, huh?
Drawing his eyes from Sirius, he scanned the room for the answer to their problems. “Just gotta give him a decent distraction,” Remus went on, making James raise an eyebrow in question.
“What you thinking, Moony?”
Suddenly giddy, Remus turned back to his friends and leaned forward, drumming his fingertips on the table in anticipation. “Prongs, you got a pen?”
“A pen? Uh, yeah sure.” James fumbled for his bag and produced a pen, handing it over.
“And Pete, can I bum your napkin?”
Peter passed his unused napkin along and Remus took it, before pausing and handing it both back to James. “My handwriting’s sh*t, you do it.”
With a curious look, James uncapped the pen. “Okay, what am I writing?”
“Just say hello—invite him to another table, compliment his hair or something. Oh and sign it as Kimmy.”
James’ head shot up in recognition; “Kimmy? As in ‘Kim Bishop’?”
“Yeah, and put a little heart over the ‘i’.”
“You’re evil,” James snorted as he bent over the napkin.
“Yeah, yeah, hurry up.”
Once James had finished his scribbling and handed him the note, Remus took a second to read it over.
“Can you explain what it is you’re doing now?” Peter asked, and Remus slid him the napkin as he leaned back on the bench in satisfaction.
“Oh wow.”
“Mhm.” Remus looked up just in time to snatch the note back and swallow his smile, as Sirius returned, arching an eyebrow when he realised that they were all staring at him.
“What—something on my face?” He asked, setting down his dinner tray.
“Someone dropped something off for you,” Remus said, pushing the note across the table for him. With a suspicious look, Sirius unfolded the napkin and read it over. Instantly his head shot up and he glanced about the room before settling on a group of girls about four tables down. Amongst them was Kim Bishop, possibly the most popular girl in the year above them. On a regular day, a girl like Kimmy wouldn’t have looked twice at any of them, but Sirius had never been close to being ‘regular’ anyway. They watched as Kimmy twirled a chestnut curl around one finger until one of her friends noticed their staring and leaned over to whisper in her ear. Looking up, she caught Sirius’ gaze and smiled shyly before turning back to her girlfriends to share in a giggle.
“Oh,” Sirius said, looking back at the note, “Kim give this to you?”
Remus nodded eagerly. “Mhm. But it’s clearly for you.”
“Go on Sirius, go talk to her,” James hissed from the end of the table, grinning like a madman.
“Yeah Sirius, go talk to her,” Peter snigg*red.
“No way, you’re totally lying,” Sirius chuckled, flopping down on the bench next to Remus and tossing the napkin away. “Kimmy’s way too hot to approach you guys in the cafeteria anyway.”
“It’ll be a missed opportunity then,” James said in delight.
“No, he’s right,” Remus shrugged, “must be another ‘devilishly handsome, raven-haired hunk around.”
“She said that?” Sirius gaped. The look he gave him made Remus pause.
“Er—yeah. S-Sure she did…”
“Just go talk to her!” Peter said. “What do you have to lose?”
Sirius’ eyes hadn’t left Remus’, making him nervous.
“Moony?”
“What?” He blanched.
“You really think I should go talk to her?”
Remus forced a chuckle. “Don’t tell me you’re feeling shy now, Black?”
Immediately Sirius’ eyes widened a bit and he raised his chin haughtily before getting up from the table. “Alright then, guess I will.”
There was a beat of silence, and Sirius still hadn’t moved. Remus looked around before indicating towards Kimmy with his head. “Okay, go on then.”
Sirius coughed out a short laugh; “Fine,” and spun around, striding away. Remus stared after him, bewildered but unsure why and they all watched as Sirius moved across the hall, quickly settling into that confident stride of his. By the time he made it to Kim’s table he was smiling handsomely, both thumbs tucked into the belt loops of his trousers.
“It worked!” James said hurriedly, scooping up his dinner tray and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Come on, Pete!”
“Coming!” Peter chirped, shoving a few more bites of dinner into his mouth as he tugged his jacket on.
James waved frantically at Remus, who was still sitting stunned. It took no time at all for the girls to eagerly make space at the table for Sirius, and after dropping down into the space next to Kim, he propped one elbow up onto its surface and leaned into his knuckles. Kimmy eyed him like a cat that'd just spotted a bird with a broken wing.
“Moony!”
“Yup, coming,” Remus said stiffly, snapping out of it and grabbing his bag and jacket with one hand and his dinner tray with the other. As the three of them legged it out of the dining hall, leaving their dinner plates to clatter into the dirty dish tub by the door, Remus didn’t look back.
* * *
None of them had ever been inside Dalal House, but the moment they’d crossed the threshold it became obvious that the theme throughout the dorm was distinctly more free-spirited and garish than they’d expected. In comparison to Godric or Byron House, Dalal could’ve nearly passed for a circus tent, what with all the drapes hanging from the ceiling and tapestries decorating the walls. Countless rugs and carpets lined the floor and Remus spotted more statues depicting the Buddha than he could’ve found in a second-hand shop in Soho.
“It somehow just feels kind of racist,” James said, thumbing the orange drape that decorated the archway leading into the common room. “I mean, just because they named the place after some scholar-bloke from Delhi doesn’t mean they had to go all ‘ethnic’ with the interior design, does it?”
“The fish tank’s cool though,” Peter said, staring into the huge glass tank that lined the wall opposite to phone lines.
“Good thing we don’t plan on staying for long,” Remus said, taking his friends by the shoulders and turning them toward the stairs. Other boys mulled around the halls but none really paid them much attention, and for once Remus recognised the upside of not bringing Sirius along on every jaunt. Unable to resist making a scene, Sirius would have undoubtedly had more to say about the dorm’s vibrant colour palette and lack of real chairs, but they were on a mission and Sirius was not invited.
Following each other down the dorm’s second floor hallway, Peter stopped outside a door decorated in notes and scribbles—some of which were real poetry and the rest just gibberish. Made-up languages and swirling symbols that almost looked like a failed game of hangman.
“Here goes nothing,” Peter mumbled, before rapping on the door several times and practically vibrating out of nervousness. He wasted no time in knocking again, making James wince.
“Uh, Pete, I think they heard you,” James said.
“Sim told me you have to keep knocking otherwise they won’t let you in!”
“Why would that make any sense?”
“I dunno, he just said to do it!”
The door swung open very suddenly and Peter ripped his hand back as the thick smell of hash hit them. They all stifled coughs as their new patron leaned his head out toward them.
“sh*t fellas, where’s the fire?
“Huh?” Peter squeaked.
“Well there must be a fire if you’re that desperate to get me to come to the door. Next time, why don’t you just walk right in and save my poor ear drums.”
“Told you,” James murmured.
“Sorry, knew Sim was lying,” Peter winced. “You’re Xeno, right?”
Remus immediately knew that it was a dumb question. The boy had hair so pale it might as well have been white, with droopy stoner’s eyes and a silver hoop about the size of a racquetball hanging from one ear. He couldn’t have been anyone but Xenophilius Lovegood, Hawking’s personal bagman.
“Yeah,” Xeno answered, “I go by Xeno. Or ‘Love’—‘Goodie’—‘Phil’—even ‘Willy’ if you’re feeling ballsy. Are you feeling ballsy?”
“Er… maybe?”
The look Peter received was dubious.
“So what are your names—whom I talking to?” Xeno started, pulling the door slightly shut behind him. “And what do you want?”
Peter hesitated this time, and James nudged him again until words were tumbling out of his mouth. “We, uh, have an appointment? I’m Peter Pettigrew—Simeon’s my brother. This is James and Remus. Did Sim not tell you we were coming? He said you could get us some—”
“Ah!” Xeno clapped a hand down over Peter’s mouth, coming out of his doorway to get in close. “We do not discuss business in the hall. Nod if you understand, puny Pettigrew.”
Peter nodded, blue eyes wide, and as Xeno withdrew his hand. “One more thing before I let you inside, though,” he said, smirking a bit. “You can’t use your real names while we do business.”
“Then why bother asking in the first place?” Remus sassed.
“Shhhh…” Xeno held out a finger to silence him. “You, puny Pettigrew—you’ll be Albatross. You tall, cheeky one, you’re Lachrymose. And you—” Xeno looked James up and down from the doorway. “You’re Legs.”
“ ‘Legs’?”
“Mhm. Look very strong, them.”
James gaped and Remus could hardly resist rolling his eyes. “Fine, he’s Legs. Now are we done standing around in the hall?”
Xeno raised a blonde brow, smirking. “I’ve changed my mind. You’re not Lachrymose, you’re Giggles. Come on in, then.”
Swinging the door wide open and washing them with a fresh wave of hash, Xeno turned and strolled back into his dorm room, which was decorated in the same orange and red colours as the common room below.
“He’s a f*cking lunatic,” Remus murmured to James as they stepped across the room’s threshold.
“You’re telling me, Giggles.”
“I wonder, if I break one, would you just become a singular ‘Leg’ then?”
James winked at him.
Fighting a smile, Remus shut the door behind them and went to join Xeno on the other side of the room. The dorm was the same size as theirs in Godric, but all the four-poster beds had been pushed together on one side, extending out from one another like a single long mattress with several posts at the front and back. This gave them plenty of room next to the windows to make up a sitting area, complete with almost a dozen floor cushions and bean bag chairs, though only three were occupied; the first by Xeno and the second by a boy with dark hair clipped so short he might as well have been bald.
“Hey Dave,” James said, and David nodded coolly before going back to the paper crane he seemed to be folding and unfolding in his lap. On his other side sat a girl with blonde hair to match Xeno’s. She had braids down to her waist and was holding a huge scrapbook album over her lap, humming as she glued a newspaper clipping onto one of the pages.
“Come take a load off, lads,” Xeno said, more friendly than he had been at the door. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, we’re cool,” James said, doing his best to match his chipper attitude as all three of them crossed the room and fell into a beanbag or cushion rather ungracefully. Remus ended up closest to David, who held out a hand to shake, which he took.
“Remus,” he said, before Xeno snapped his fingers at him.
“Uh-uh. We’re on business—you’re Giggles.”
“I like that one,” the girl said, without looking up. “Very funny.”
“So what should we call you then?” Peter asked the pale-haired boy. “ ‘Phil’?”
“You can call me Amphitrion today. Tomorrow—who knows—maybe Smitty?”
Jesus Christ.
“I’ll be September,” the girl said, before leaning in to whisper, “but you can call me Pandora.”
“You know Plutarch,” Xeno said, clapping a hand on David’s shoulder, “but I wouldn’t bother getting much else out of him. He took a vow of silence in Modern Cultures class.”
“So that’s why you didn’t say anything to me! Thought it was some sort of fear tactic, honestly,” James mused, and David flashed a peace sign in response.
“Simeon told us you were his hookup all last year,” Remus started, ignoring the insanity. “We wanted to know if you work your connections for us too.”
“Nothing too crazy,” James interjected. “We want to be able to wake up the next day. Maybe just booze and some baccy?”
“Hash, too,” Peter added. “Anything fun, really.”
“Couple’a men on a mission,” Xeno said, “I can appreciate that. You say you want something fun? Well, lots of things are fun. Ever thought about some super C? Or PCP? I don’t really deal in smack but—”
“No,” Remus interjected, “nothing like that.”
“How about klonopin? Diazepam?”
“They’re the same thing. We want hash, baccy, and booze.”
“I guess that isn’t an unreasonable request,” Xeno said slowly, “but how do I know I can trust you?”
All three 4A boys exchanged a look.
“I don’t just fence for just anybody, you see,” the hippy continued haughtily, “people gotta prove that they won’t just turn around and rat—equal partners in the charade.”
“Well, what’s to stop us from turning you in right now?” Peter asked.
“Got anything on me, Albatross? Because you could turn this room upside down and not find a crumb. You don’t cook in the office, you cook in the kitchen, and since you don’t know where the kitchen is…”
"So you can't get us anything?" James frowned.
"Weeeell, this close to Hallow's eve? I'm stretched thin as it is, you see. Demand is high around the holidays."
“Alright,” Remus cut-in, “what we gotta do then?”
Xeno took a moment to consider, glancing at David, who only stared back wordlessly. Finally he said; “Well what can you give me in exchange for letting you benefit from my little enterprise?”
“We got money,” Peter said, and Xeno shook his head.
“It’s Hawkings—everyone’s got money. I fence for friends and allies. And since we’re barely acquaintances by association, what else you got?”
“How about information?” Remus asked, and Xeno snapped his eyes to him.
“Information on what?”
Remus tongued the inside of his cheek. “How are you getting your merchandise inside? You got a mule?”
“Thought you were offering me information, mate.”
“I am. And I think I might have a better option for you—that is if your guy or whatever would rather not throw bags of drugs over the school walls.”
It was a bluff, but Xeno didn’t seem to notice. “Alright then, consider me hooked, Giggles. What you know?”
“There’s a hole in the wall somewhere around Hawkings, but unless you know where you’ll be looking until you graduate and still won’t find it. It’s wide enough for a single person to slip through, and more than big enough for a little bit of merchandise too.”
Xenophilius sat back, stroking his chin. “Huh,” he said in consideration. Remus spared a glance at his friends, who were open-mouthed like he’d just offered him the key to the Tower of London.
“Well, that might be something worth offering…” Xeno hummed.
“It’s good intel,” Remus said firmly, “and if you want it you’ll stop hassling us.”
Xeno burst out laughing, joined by Pandora while David cracked a smile. “This one’s good,” he told his friends, wagging a finger at Remus. “This one’s good! Alright Giggles, you share your little secret and I promise to be the perfect fence for you lads. Deal?”
“Deal.” Remus held a hand out to shake, but Xeno put up both hands.
“No, that’s not how we seal a pact here.”
Fiddling for the inside of his jacket pocket, he withdrew a single tin meant for breath mints and popped it open, producing a very fat spliff. “Got a light?” He asked, and Remus sighed as he fiddled for his zippo. Xeno took it and held the silver up to the light to admire the engraving on its side. “Ooh, fancy.”
Clicking the lighter to life, he lit up and tossed the zippo back to him before sucking in deeply and blowing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth. Expertly, Xeno twirled the spliff around in his fingers and offered it to Remus, wiggling his eyebrows.“Deal?”
Remus didn’t hesitate. He took the spliff and sucked in deeply, before passing it to James, who did the same, and then Peter. Once David had the ciggy, Xeno leaned back in his chair, pressing his arms behind his head.
“I think this’ll be a very lucrative agreement, lads,” he grinned.
At Xeno’s insistence, they all stayed until they’d shared at least three spliffs amongst them. Pandora continued filling out her scrapbook and eventually Remus had realised that the photos weren’t of her family or anyone she knew, but famous serial murderers and conspiracy theories. She had a whole chapter dedicated to the Mansons and was particularly fond of the theory that Paul McCartney had died in a car crash in 1966 and was just replaced by a look-alike. Remus had tuned out somewhere around there.
It was near curfew when the boys began expressing interest in leaving, but Xeno urged them to stay for one last puff of a smaller spliff. As he lit it and passed it along to Peter,
Remus got his first whiff of the hash, which didn’t smell like hash at all.
“What’s that?” He asked, as Peter breathed in.
Xeno smiled lazily and shrugged; “Something ‘fun’.”
“Did you just give them a dirty fa*g?” He demanded, shooting upright in his bean bag.
“Oh my god—no,” Xeno said quickly. “Do you think I’d give you heroin for free? It’s just weed and lavender, mate. Good for de-stressing, which you clearly need.”
“Oh.”
“Jesus, who you been hanging out with?”
Remus glanced at James and Peter, who exchanged looks of confusion as he let out a shallow sigh. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Well we might worry about it,” James mumbled, glancing at Peter.
Pressing his lips together into a tight line, Remus climbed out of his bean bag and reached a hand down to James, who hesitantly puffed the lavender spliff and passed it on to David before standing. Peter came with them and together they shambled to the door, distinctly slower than they’d been when they arrived.
“Remember, the stuff’ll be in the bushes under your window—gimme three days. The rest’ll be here in time for your friend’s little birthday,” Xeno called. James gave him a friendly wave goodbye as they emerged into the hall, blinking in the yellow lights hanging overhead.
“f*cking hell,” Peter said, clearing his throat, “mouth tastes like ash.”
“Ass?” James echoed.
“Ash.”
“Yum,” Remus said, leading them down and out into the chilly night air. The sidewalk was empty for the most part, but anyone who passed gave them a wide berth, and they could hardly blame them. After nearly two hours in Xeno’s room they probably smelled as though they’d spent an entire weekend at Woodstock.
Halfway back to their dorm, Peter let out a little chuckle. “Have either of you been imagining Sirius’ face when he figures out we’d ditched him? Couldn’t stop thinking about it back there.”
“So that’s what you've been snigg*ring about. I knew Xeno’s joke about the postman wasn’t that funny,” James teased. “I’ll bet he was pissed, too, but Kim’s probably keeping him busy enough.”
“What do you mean?” Remus asked dumbly.
“The note—it was a good idea. Should give them more than enough to talk about.”
“But we wrote that note.”
“Yeah, ‘course.” James gave him an odd look. “I thought… Didn’t you know Kimmy’s sort of got a thing for him?”
“She does?”
“Yeah, at least according to Rachel from chem. Thought that’s why you wanted me to sign her name.”
“Oh well, yeah,” Remus said casually, “but who doesn’t have a crush on the prick? Sandy Herron keeps trying to get him to tutor her in music but she plays the oboe.”
James snorted before tripping and nearly sprawling across the pavement. “Someone needs to fix those damn potholes,” he grumbled.
“Think we can play bumps while walking?” Peter asked, making Remus shake his head lightly.
“Oh yeah, and how about every time we step on a crack we sock ourselves in the face too?”
“That’s actually closer to a different game, Moony. It’s called—”
“I don’t actually want to know, Pete.”
“Well I want to know how the hell you knew what Xeno was talking about, Lupin,” James said, musingly. “He might as well have been speaking Chinese in the middle there.”
“Yeah,” Peter said, “how is it you know so much about drugs, Moony?”
“Oh, you know, they give you some pretty wild stuff when you bust your face up like I did.”
“Rubbish.” James turned around and began to walk backwards. “You’re lying, I know it. I bet you get up to some funny stuff back home in London.”
“Careful or you’ll actually eat pavement, you posh prat.”
James surged forward and wrapped an arm around Remus’ neck, pulling him in close. “One day we’ll connect the dots, Moony. And if we can’t we’ll just bully you into telling the truth.”
“You? Bully someone? I think you’ll have to get a lot meaner first.”
“Alright, then I’ll recruit Lily—she’ll crack you. And Sirius too—he’s a wizard with crosswords.”
“Well good luck to the lot of you then, Prongs.”
“I want a nickname,” Peter sighed, and James gathered him by the neck too.
“Don’t worry, Pete, your moment of shame will come.”
At that, Remus laughed.
* * *
Upon their return they found their room empty and silent, despite the fact that they were only a few minutes shy of missing curfew.
“You owe me five quid, Moony,” James said, and Remus scoffed. He’d been sure that they’d have walked in on a grumpy Sirius, most likely blaring music at full volume to punish them. (Remus had bet on Bowie while Peter had gone for Zeppelin or T. Rex, but James had won when they found the room empty. Remus was just thankful that his second guess—finding Sirius with extra company—was also wrong.)
To make up for his loss, Remus crossed the room to Sirius’ stereo and put on an album, standing back to listen as he read the track listing off its back cover. He realised halfway through the first song that Hope had also had a copy, now tucked away in the trunk beneath his bed. It gave him a listless feeling.So far that term he’d avoided thinking much about Hope’s records and the boys hadn’t pestered him despite his promise last year that he’d play them—though Sirius had grumbled more than once about how he’d have loved to listen to the odd album or two, always ones they both knew were shut up just a few feet away.
“Is it cool if I shower first?” James asked and both Remus and Peter nodded. “Okay, cheers.”
Setting the album cover down, Remus retreated to his own bed as Peter had done and slumped down, gathering some of his school reading to him. It was the easy kind he could do even while high, but he hadn’t forgotten his promise of beating Sirius in at least one academic subject that year. He was doing good in most of his classes—better than good in others—and figured that he might actually have a decent shot of it, as long as Sod’s Law didn’t suddenly win out and Sirius actually dedicated himself to his work.
By the time the album finished Peter had traded James for the shower. Remus got up to change it just as the familiar sound of a key turning in a lock sounded from across the room. James finished haphazardly drying his hair with his towel and pulled it down around his neck as Sirius strode in, tie unlaced and a dopey smile on his face.
“And here he is,” James drawled, “the man of the hour.”
Sirius checked an invisible watch. “Is it my birthday already? Am I that late?”
“Cheeky bastard. Where have you been?”
“Better question is where have you been? Straight up left me in the hall didn’t you?”
“Don’t avoid the question,” James ordered, snatching his towel and twirling it to lash Sirius in the thigh. Sirius grinned and danced away, almost straight into Remus.
“Hey Moony,” he said, reeling back before pulling off his tie and tossing it onto the bed.
“Hey, Black.”
“Have a fun night? You smell terrible.”
“So do you,” Remus said, keenly aware of the flowery scent clinging to Sirius like a personal smog. Sirius paused to sniff his arm before giving another wry smile.
“Oh yeah, that’s just Kimmy’s perfume.”
“Duh.” Without changing the record, Remus set the album down and crossed back to his side of the room. Throwing himself down on his bed, he dog-eared the page of the book he’d been reading (which Lily hated, but it was a habit) and tugged his curtains across his bed to block out the light. Unfortunately, there was no spell for blocking out sounds.
“So…?” He heard James ask. “What happened?”
“You think I kiss and tell?”
“I don’t think you anything but, actually.”
“Well now I’m torn between calling that a fair assessment and telling you to f*ck off. Also that note? Not nice.”
“You showed Kim?”
“ ‘Course. She said your handwriting is ugly.”
A moment later the bathroom door opened and Peter emerged, starting the conversation over again.
“So…” James asked eventually, “how was it? Did you totally embarrass yourself?”
“It was fine—thank you! Jeez, give me some credit.”
“You mean you…?” Peter gasped.
“It’s not that big ‘a deal! Bet you and Moira do it all the time, right?”
“Oh, yeah sure, ‘course, ha…”
“So that’s it, it was just fine?”
“No, it was great. Kim’s gorgeous—totally peng. I’m lucky, really, that an older gal as fit as her would look twice at me.”
“You gonna hang out with her again then?”
“Sure, don’t see why not. She’s fun. Good kisser too. She can do this thing with her tongue—blimey.”
Suddenly revolted, Remus reached for the pyjama bottoms he’d left discarded at the foot of his bed from the night before and tugged them on, leaving his shirt off as he turned over in his bed and forced his eyes shut. The boys weren’t loud, but he could already tell he’d have trouble sleeping anyway.
Eventually James declared that it was late and he could hear the sounds of his friends settling down for bed. His eyes were just sliding shut when Sirius called through the curtains, making him shoot up from his pillows.
“Psst, Moony, you asleep?”
“…Yes.”
“Oh good.” Without an invitation, Sirius stuck his head inside and Remus nearly launched himself against the wall. “Just wanted to say thanks.”
He blinked in alarm. “For what?!”
“James said the note was your idea.”
“Er, yeah... Sorry."
“No, no—it was real helpful. Perfect thing to get an in with Kimmy.”
“I didn’t know you wanted an ‘in’ with Kimmy.” If the bitter tone surprised him Sirius made no notice. He simply considered Remus’ words with a smug look on his face.
“I suppose either way it worked, so cheers.”
Remus ground his teeth together. “Yeah. Cheers, Black…”
Sirius pulled his head back out and smacked the maroon curtains for good measure as Remus settled down into his pillow. He was wide awake now, but instead of wallowing over unplayed records, or even how badly he suddenly wanted a cigarette, all he could think about was the shard of ice that had lodged itself in the centre of his chest—and where the f*ck it had come from.
