When Black Met Blue (Marauder Fanfic)

Chapter 10 *Edited*

Orla and Sirius were alone in the boys’ dormitory. Orla was doing homework and Sirius was sitting on his bed, drumming his feet on the floor. 

Orla had never seen him so agitated. She knew he had missed Quidditch trials that afternoon, but surely that wouldn’t make him this antsy, would it? She had been there when he talked to Marlene and explained why he couldn’t make it. She had promised him a position on the team anyway.

A wolf howled in the distance and he stiffened, his hand clenching into a fist. Orla watched him out of the corner of her eye.

‘So when will the others be back?’

‘Remmy will probably be in the Hospital Wing overnight and I wouldn’t put it past Pete and Jamie to try to stay with him,’ Sirius said quickly. He returned to glaring out the window at the full-moon. Orla was confused.

‘Sirius?" his head snapped round "I haven't seen you this agitated before,"   ‘I-I-’

‘Are you feeling all right? Maybe we should go to the Hospital Wing and get you a Calming Drought.’

‘No!’ Sirius said in a strangely high-pitched voice. ‘I don’t want to make you sit there with me.’

‘I don’t mind if you’re not feeling well,’ she said, worried now. ‘Besides, the other three will be there too.’

‘No, I’m happy here,’ Sirius blabbed. Orla watched him with concern.

* * *

Sirius was pacing. Orla was being dragged behind him, bewildered, but she didn’t say anything. She just let him act like a crazy person and for that, he was grateful.

This night was going to kill him. Every time Sirius heard Remus’ howl, shivers went down his spine. Things were hard at the best of times on full-moons, and often it took both him and James to keep Remus under control.

Tonight, James was alone. Tonight, James was stuck in a confined space with a Werewolf and Sirius wasn’t there to help. As a stag, James was big and strong enough to hold his own, but he could hardly take the offensive except with his antlers or a well-aimed kick. Sirius, as a dog, could nip and scratch and also give warning growls and barks. James could only bleat.

Peter was useful for pranks and for getting past the Whomping Willow, but once Remus transformed, he was useless, since a rat had no chance against a Werewolf. He usually hid under the furniture in the Shrieking Shack. James was alone.

Sirius aimed a kick at his bed, cursing loudly when it hurt his toe. Orla watched with wide eyes. Remus howled outside again and he clenched his hands until his knuckles went white. Orla obviously couldn’t hear it, but Sirius, with Animagus hearing, heard snarling.

He froze and Orla walked into the back of him. Orla stammered and apology he hardly heard; things outside had just gone quiet. Too quiet. Far, far too quiet.

‘Shit!’ he cursed, running to the window. He couldn’t see much happening. Everything was still. Then, he heard a faint crack. It had come from the general direction of Hogsmeade. Sirius swore again. Peter couldn’t Apparate, so it had to be James, and James would only Apparate if someone was hurt.

‘Did you hear that?’ Orla asked tentatively. It was a clear, still night. Of course she’d heard the crack too. He realised his behaviour was scaring her, and felt immediately guilty. Sirius nodded, unable to choke out an answer. He was still for less than a second.

Then he dived for his trunk and began to throw things out of it. Finally, his hand closed on the Marauder’s Map.

‘I solemnly swear I am up to no good,’ he whispered. He honestly didn’t care that Orla was peering at the map over his shoulder. Ink spread across the surface of the parchment and Sirius searched the grounds for any sign of his fellow Marauders.

He found Peter’s dot, moving alarmingly quickly toward the castle. Sirius scanned the border for any sign of the other two and found nothing. This was bad. He could feel it.

* * *

The absence of the huge, bear-like dog didn’t upset the Werewolf, it made him angry. And he took that anger out on the stag. The stag didn’t blame him, knowing the wolf couldn’t help it. He was a little shaken though, already bleeding heavily and quite badly wounded... He glanced out the boarded window.

Another few minutes, and he knew the worst would be over. It was always bad just after the transformation, and got better as the night progressed. The stag cursed himself for not delaying his arrival.

The wolf snarled savagely and the stag jumped back, but the Werewolf’s teeth still grazed his flank. The stag made a funny sniffling sound and gently nudged the wolf, who snapped.

A line of blood sprung up on the stag’s face and he leapt out of the way, knocking over a bedside table in the process. Puddles of blood made the dusty floorboards slippery for the stag’s hooves and he fell, crashing to the ground.

The wolf lunged, tearing at his front leg, his shoulder, his neck, anywhere he could get his long, razor sharp teeth. The stag kicked, but with his antlers caught in the moth-eaten curtains, couldn’t move properly. Finally he managed to get free and limped over to the door. He hurt everywhere.

He bleated twice loudly and the wolf howled. The stag’s vision blurred. He needed to get out of there. As much as he had felt obliged, it had been a mistake to go without the dog tonight.

He bleated again and a rat scurried out from under the dilapidated bed. The wolf snapped playfully at it, whacking it with his huge paw. The rodent squealed, but he really wasn’t hurt, just terrorised. The wolf could be gentle when he wanted to be. The stag watched for any signs of hostility, but none came.

His breathing was laboured, coming in odd gusts through his nose and the hole in his neck. Blood dribbled onto the floor. His three healthy legs trembled beneath him and he collapsed onto the hard floorboards with a loud thump.

The rat ran over and so did the wolf. The stag feebly attempted to get up, to defend himself, but he needn’t have worried. The wolf nuzzled his neck softly and licked the stag’s nose, a whine building in his throat. His ears were back and his tail tucked between his legs. He whimpered.

The stag’s eyes were falling closed. He tried to resist sleep, knowing if he slept he’d probably never wake up. He tried to stand again, and the wolf pressed against him for support. This time, he succeeded and limped over to the door, leaving a sticky trail of red behind him.

The wolf snapped at his ear, but immediately let go. It was as if instinct had kicked in, but something else had smothered it. Even as he was dying, the stag was able to appreciate the control.

The wolf gave the stag a hard look, one that clearly said “get out” and then retreated as far away from the door as possible. The rat scarpered past and out under the door, but the stag was stuck. Still shaking, he began to change.

Less than a second later, a boy was standing in its place. James Potter saw the wolf tense and scrambled out the door, locking it from the other side. The wolf hit the closed door with a bang, but didn’t make it through. He howled once and was quiet.

James crumpled to the floor of the Shrieking Shack, gasping for air. His injuries were far more pronounced when he was in human form, especially his mangled neck.

Peter transformed and hurried to his side. He performed a few very basic healing charms – one to stop the some of the bleeding, one to stop James from passing out – it was too dangerous for James to rest now, and there was no way Peter was capable of getting him out if he was unconscious – and one to replace the blood he was losing so quickly.

‘Help,’ James whispered hoarsely. ‘We need help.’

‘I know,’ Peter croaked, fat tears leaking from his eyes. ‘What do I do?’

James briefly considered getting to St Mungo’s but decided it wasn’t worth it. Too many questions from too many people, and he doubted he could Apparate there in his weakened state. He’d probably Splinch himself and die anyway, and if Peter tried to Apparate them, he’d die for sure.

‘Get Padfoot,’ James said clearly. He cursed himself for not knowing how to send Patronus messages. ‘Don’t tell anyone anything until you’ve seen him.’

‘Orla’s with him,’ Peter squeaked.

James smiled weakly. ‘Right now, I couldn’t care less. Run.’

Peter turned and fled, transforming into a rat mid-stride. He would be faster that way, James knew, but not fast enough. He was dying, he could feel it, feel the blood soaking the carpet he was on, feel the erratic throbbing of his heart.

‘Wormy, wait!’ James mumbled. The rat turned to stare at him. ‘If- if the worst happens,’ he took a deep breath, ‘I love you guys, Orla an- and Lily too, okay?’ The rat nodded. ‘Wait!’ James’ whole frame shook with a hacking cough. A lump of congealed blood dribbled onto his chin. ‘Pete, tell Remus this isn’t his fault. I would have come to the next full-moon.’

The rat squeaked miserably and scampered off. At least he had spared Peter the torment of seeing the light in his eyes dimming.

James started to list the people he loved to pass time he still had left. Sirius, Remus, Peter, Orla, Lily, Mum, Dad, Noddy. James paused, hope flooding in as surely as blood was flooding out. Noddy.

‘Noddy,’ James whispered. He heard a crack.