All the Young Dudes ( Sirius' Perspective )

Sixth Year : Halloween

Sunday 31st October 1976

In hindsight, he probably should have seen it coming. They’d been running in circles for nearly two months, driving all their friends mad with their constant bickering, and never seemed to get any closer to reaching a stalemate. Looking back, Sirius supposed that it had always been sort of inevitable, the sharp decline of something that was never meant to last.
But at the time, as October gave her last dying gasps and Halloween drew steadily closer, Sirius was too preoccupied to spend much time reflecting on the state of his relationship.

Halloween of 1976 just so happened to fall on a Sunday, and considering the importance of the holiday to the student body, Dumbledore had wisely elected to cancel classes for the following Monday. This, of course, meant the perfect opportunity for a party the likes of which the castle had never seen—and Sirius was determined to throw it.

The problem with being a genius event-planner—a connoisseur of celebration, a supervisor of spectacular soirees—was that every party with the marauders’ names attached to it simply had to outdo the last. With the new heights reached after Moony’s legendary birthday bash the previous term, Sirius was entirely absorbed in ensuring that Gryffindor’s Halloween party would be even more memorable.

Fortunately, he had James to help him. Being a prefect had done sod all to staunch Potter’s Halloween spirit—in fact, if anything, he seemed to be even more daring now that he had the authority of the shiny silver badge to fall back on. Together, the two of them amassed a hidden collection of Filibuster’s fireworks which they planned to set off at midnight, along with copious amounts of alcohol (for the older students, of course; prefects would be packing the first and second years off to bed at a reasonable hour, per Lily’s regulations, and she also warned James that if she saw any sloshed thirteen-year-olds she would hold him personally responsible).

So although things remained quite tense with Mary, and although they continued to spend a majority of their time either fighting or making up, Sirius was too busy to worry about it much. He felt guilty for letting her down when he’d promised to do better, but he also couldn’t help feeling a bit resentful—Mary seemed to want some sort of nebulous commitment that she only ever defined as “acting like you CARE about me,” and no matter how Sirius reiterated that he already did care about her, it never seemed to be enough. Sometimes he felt as though they were speaking two entirely different languages, words sliding past each other and never really sticking.

Still, Mary always forgave him. And he always forgave her. He figured that maybe this was just the way things were, in relationships—after all, it wasn’t like he had anything to compare to. He still liked Mary, and she clearly still liked him, so Sirius didn’t see why, eventually, the problem wouldn’t just blow itself out. 

So on the afternoon of the party, when Mary asked if he felt like a walk, Sirius didn’t think anything of it. All the preparations had been finished; the alcohol was safely stashed, Avni’s pumpkins were in place, and he and James had spent the morning double-checking the time-delay spell on the fireworks to make sure they’d all go off at the right time. With nothing else to do, Sirius agreed, looping his fingers through Mary’s and following her lead.

He was mildly surprised when she led him out to the grounds—it was a bit chilly for a stroll around the lake, or for a rendezvous under the quidditch stands (and besides, Potter was trying out new beaters—Sirius doubted he’d be able to focus properly on snogging if he had to listen to James shouting drill instructions in the background). But he didn’t complain, allowing Mary to guide him over to the edge of the lake. She paused as he reached down to skip a stone, fingers still intertwined.