The Marauders: Year One | #Wattys2016

What Good Mates Are For

What Good Mates Are For


Sirius awoke again in the dead of night, once more covered in sweat and trembling, the same haunting images filling his mind as he found himself looking up into James Potter's face. They went back down to the common room again, sitting on the floor in front of the fire this time instead of the chair, determined not to fall asleep like last time. James chewed on his lower lip and Sirius watched the flickering of the flames dancing in the hearth, glowing embers at it's feet. He felt silly and embarrassed by this new ritual they seemed to have stumbled into – Sirius having nightmares and James having to comfort him, like he was a child. Sirius rubbed his nose and snuffled.

James looked over at him and said, very gently, "You know, when I have nightmares, my mum, she tells me that talking about it will make them go away. If you want to talk about it... I'll listen."

"I doubt very much that talking about it will make my nightmares go away," mumbled Sirius.

"You never know," James said, "Sometimes just getting the poor thoughts out of your mind will clear them off."

Sirius shook his head slowly, "They aren't just thoughts for me, James. They're memories or something – realizations, maybe. They're the truth."

James shifted so he was facing Sirius, "Then tell me about it and we'll figure out how to make it be not the truth."

Sirius took a deep breath, looking down at the cup of tea James had made. "You can't undo who my parents are, mate."

James's brow stitched together. "Did something happen on holiday?" he asked, concern deep in his voice. "What happened?" James asked. "Let me help."

Sirius hesitated for a moment more, afraid to make the confession... and then, with a glance up into the sincerity in James's eyes, he just couldn't hold it back anymore. "They hate me, James," he choked the words out, as though it strangled him to say them.

"I'm sure they don't hate --" James began, but Sirius cut him off.

"Yes they do," he said fiercely.

James remembered Sirius saying, way back when they'd first come to Hogwarts, that his mum and dad would be angry with him being sorted to Gryffindor – the Blacks had spent decades and centuries cycling through Slytherin, and Sirius was the first Black ever to be sorted Gryffindor. James had honestly thought Sirius had been exaggerating the anger that his parents would feel about the sorting, as he might've done if he'd said that Charlus would be angry about him being anything but Gryffindor, but the look on Sirius's face now – all pale, blotchy, and afraid – said otherwise.

"Mother used the cruciatus curse on me," he whispered fearfully. "All last summer. Because I'd met a muggle, one of our neighbors. She used an unforgivable curse on her son, James. She hates me. She's going to blast me right off the family tree one day, I just know it, and then where will I be? I'll have no where to go – no place to call home – no food, money, anything. I'll be homeless, living on the streets like a dog --"

"Shhh, shh, sh," James urged, waving his hands for Sirius to bring done the volume of his voice as he'd slowly gotten louder and louder as he'd spoken. "First off, you aren't a dog. Secondly, Sirius, you're foolish if you think for a second I'd let you have no place to go! If something awful like that ever happens – ever, even if you just want a break from it all – you come to my place."

"Your mother and father would – would be okay with that?" sniffled Sirius.

James shrugged, "If not, we have the invisibility cloak. We could hide you out."

Sirius rubbed the tears from his eyes that had sprung up. "Really? You swear it?" he asked.

James nodded solemnly, "Yes, Sirius. You won't ever go without so long as I'm around to see to it that you're alright. I promise." James smiled.

Sirius smiled back. "I literally do not know how to repay you, ever, Potter."

James shrugged, "That's what good mates are for, Sirius."

"You're the best mate," Sirius answered.

"McGonagall wants to see you lot," Remus announced loudly.

Sirius pried his eyes open. The sun was coming in through the window over his bed. He stretched. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Lunch," Peter replied. He was switching books out of his bag.

"Lunch?" Sirius asked, staggered. "How? Have you two been to classes already?"

Remus nodded. "Yep. And, as I warned you this morning, --"

"You warned us of something?" asked Sirius, "When?"

"– Flitwick and Binns both noticed. Told McGonagall now. She wants to see you in her office. Both of you," he added, not letting the interruption actually interrupt him. He nudged James in the back."

"Binns hasn't even noticed yet that he's dead," James groaned from the depths of the blankets, "How in bloody hell did he notice we weren't there?"

"Just our luck," Sirius groaned back.

Minerva McGonagall sat behind her desk, her square glasses low on her nose, staring at them in their seats across from her. She had her hands folded on her knee, waiting. Sirius and James didn't dare exchange looks, but each kept their eyes focused on different things – James stared at the pattern of the wood on her desk top while Sirius's eyes skimmed over the books on the shelves behind her. They were old textbooks, many quite ragged, and included volumes with funny names like Purrfecting Myself, A Memoir, Registration And Boring Other Topics You'll Need To Know To Turn, and So You Want To Be An Animangus? Sirius wondered what they were about.

The clock ticked aimlessly behind them.

Finally McGonagall took her glasses off all the way, folding them carefully and putting them on her desk. "Mister Potter, Mister Black... Let's make this easier on all of us, shall we?"

James looked up at her.

"I know that you were both absent from multiple classes – not just today, but yesterday as well. Is that correct?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

Sirius looked down at his knees, ashamed of the answer.

"Well?" she asked.

"Yes," squeaked James.

McGonagall nodded. "That's what I thought," she said. "And I suppose, Mr. Black... Mr. Potter, that it is a coincidence, then, that you go missing from class and mysterious break-ins have happened to Argus Filch's office during the exact times during which you should have been in class?"

Sirius gulped.

James looked away.

She sighed, shaking her head, and set herself back in her chair. "Do either of you care to tell me what exactly has possessed you to sneak into Filch's office, and knicking other students' files?" she questioned.

James looked up, "Student files?" he asked, emphasizing the plural.

"Yes, Potter," replied McGonagall, "Student files! Three, to be exact. Bilius Weasley, Lucius Malfoy, and Severus Snape. Their files have all gone missing from Mr. Filch's drawers."

Sirius looked at James in honest confusion. Sure, they'd taken Bilius Weasley's, but the other two – who would want to read about Malfoy or Snape? James looked just as clueless as Sirius felt. Sirius turned to look up at McGonagall, "But, professor, we haven't taken all those files," he said.

Professor McGonagall glowered down at him, trying to discern whether he was telling the truth or not. Sirius stared right back at her, quite confidently. James, too. She pursed her lips. She could sense there was more to the story than they were telling her, yet it was quite obvious that they didn't have all of the answers she was seeking, either.

McGonagall stood up, looming over them quite ominously. She stared into their eyes in turn, and said, "Bare in mind, that I will be looking after you both, making sure nothing of this sort happens again. I will not put up with hearing about Gryffindor students marauding about the castle, up to no good at every turn." She sighed and glanced at the clock on her wall, which began to chime, a funny little cuckoo bird popping out of a little house. "It's time for us all three to get to Transfiguration class with your fellow First Years," she said. She paused as James's belly growled loudly. "Now, am I correct in saying neither of you made it down to the Great Hall to eat?" she asked.

They both nodded, James clutching his stomach.

McGonagall waved her wand and a tray of sandwiches appeared on her desk, spinning to a stop before their very eyes. "Take some sandwiches," she commanded, "And come along to class."

James and Sirius grabbed handfuls of sandwiches, stacking them upon one another so that they had quite a good amount between them, and McGonagall magicked the sandwich tray away as easily as she'd conjured it. Holding the door opened, she watched the two of them pass by, already stuffing the sandwiches into her mouth, and then she locked the door to her office behind her securely, wiggling the handle to be sure the job was properly done, as she always did.