Sirius, on the other hand, had practically fallen in love with Remus at first sight. Like a puppy with a new toy, he gnawed at Remus's solitude, drew the silent boy out of his shell. The few times he actually got Remus to drop his guard enough to laugh, his pale blue eyes seemed to light up with satisfaction.
Sirius was James's first and best friend. They were equally brilliant, equally wicked; they could understand each other by trading the barest of glances in the middle of class. But there were still plenty of things about Sirius that James made a point of never thinking too hard about. Sirius's mood swings were one thing; his attachment to Remus was another.
So when Remus started getting paler and weaker and claimed that his mother or brother or father was sick, Sirius decided that it was a horrible curse on his whole bloodline and worried for Remus's life (Sirius was a Black; he knew about hexes like that; his mother could probably perform them). And James, who could see the lies, the guilt, in the way Remus didn't meet his eyes, didn't say a word.
Because the thing about Remus that really got to him, that make him detest and respect the gentle boy all at once, was that Remus knew James didn't like him. He acknowledged it, and there was a passivity to his gaze as though he allowed James to intimidate him, chose to stay silent, self-contained.
It was in complete contrast to Peter, who practically worshipped the stronger, smarter boy, fawned on him and followed him and was pathetically grateful for every scrap of attention James gave him.
No, Remus and James tolerated each other, made a show of being friends, but it was all for Sirius's sake, with Sirius oblivious all the while.
Things might never have changed if James didn't figure it out--a revelation in Astronomy, one of those moments where the answer just came to him, bright and complete as the full moon that had sparked it--Remus was a werewolf.
Suddenly the silence, the secrets... it all made sense. All this time James had suspected Remus of being a misplaced Slytherin (slimy, sneaky, no-good, the lot of them), but no, he was just trying to protect himself... A monster, maybe, but not a freak. He laughed when he shared the discovery with his friends.
Peter started stuttering in horror. Sirius went strangely quiet.
And then Remus, as if on cue, hobbled in.
James had to admire the other boy, shouldering such a powerful secret all by himself. That didn't stop the smirk, the surge of pleasure, as Remus looked into his eyes and knew that he knew, grew even paler and started to shake.
"'Lo, Moony."
Sirius got damage control. It was an activity he enjoyed. He loved spending time with Remus, holding his hair as he vomited into the sink. It took all of his cajoling to convince Remus that they were not going to abandon him, that if anything they were relieved, and what was it like? How did it feel? Did he ever get the urge to howl when it wasn't the full moon? Could he transform willingly? Did he have super-human senses of smell and taste? So his mother wasn't sick? What had really happened to his brother?
Peter looked almost as ill as Remus, when Sirius managed to drag the werewolf back into their dormitory. He kept sneaking glances at James, unsure of how to react.
James knew it was up to him. Even Sirius was watching him, serious for once, waiting.
He took Remus's thin hand and shook it firmly. "Well, Lupin, no more secrets, then? We're all in this together now. Don't worry. We'll protect you."
Remus did not seem comforted, until Sirius took his hand just as firmly, much more enthusiastically, and started barraging him with promises and reassurances. Even Peter flushed bright red and took his hand, murmuring something like, "better friends than enemies," but seeming fervently sincere.
That was the beginning. They shared something. They were bound to each other. After that, it didn't seem like trouble to let Peter tag along, not undue trouble, anyway. After that, Remus wasn't afraid to meet his eye. James knew what he would see there. Sirius. Somehow... their acceptance of Remus, Remus's tolerance of their knowledge... It was all because of Sirius. And they were more like equals. Because James could sort of understand.
Life went on. They discovered a secret passage to the kitchens. They came upon Severus Snape in a compromising position (and that was just too rich. the proud, unflappable Slytherin actually crying, and fool enough to do it where Gryffindors could find him). Remus got sick every month. Sirius seemed to save up his worst moods for when Remus was indisposed.
The Animagus spell was, of course, Sirius's brilliant idea. It fell to James to figure out how they were going to do it, but Sirius never for a moment doubted that they would.
A girl named Lily Evans laughed at him in Charms one day. It was third year. James didn't think he had ever been so angry in all of his life. He was moderately used to people laughing at him. Sirius did it all the time. But this... this girl... this little nobody Ravenclaw, with a melodic, derisive laugh like bells jangling, like he was nothing to her but some joke, and it wasn't his fault he was tired that day, to mix up a simple spell; he was the most brilliant boy in their year, but what did she know? What did she care?
Life changed... somewhat... and in some ways not at all... when he stepped into Prong's hooves. It was always hard to remember those nights exactly. The sensations were at once sharper and more inexact. He could recall the when and where perfectly (excellent knowledge to retain for the construction of a certain magical map) but the feelings always seemed strange in daylight. He sensed things, he knew things, as a stag, that he was barely aware of otherwise.
Remus and Sirius were... together. They had claimed each other, undeniably. They only tentatively acknowledged it when not in their canine forms. James wasn't about to encourage them.
Love to him was Lily Evans, who was just as infuriating as she had always been, except now he drew his curtains closed at night and yanked off, staring into the darkness, thinking about her smile. She had a... a glimmer to her... something in her eyes, in her lips, that made him want to crush her to him and kiss it out of her, plunder it from her by any means necessary. And the maddening certainty that it would still be there no matter what he did. Even if she gave in (and she would give in, if his name was James Potter, he would win this), even if he possessed her utterly, there would still be something... dancing away from him... Something of hers he'd never be able to touch.
Perhaps it was because of his obsession with Lily that James wasn't too surprised when Sirius tried to murder Severus Snape. Sirius was like a wilder, crazier, (handsomer) version of himself. It made sense... in a perverse Sirius-logic sort of way... Snape had, after all, threatened Remus.
But Snape was his. Sirius enjoyed a casual sort of cruelty with the greasy Slytherin but James was the one who hated him, James was the one with the slow, curdling disgust at Snape's existence. James was the one who deserved to watch the fathomless black eyes grow wide and fill with fear. Sirius hadn't even stuck around to enjoy the show.
And Remus eating him? That just about topped it, no, definitely topped it, as far as the list of Sirius's stupid decisions went. It was only slightly comforting to realize that Sirius had apparently been blind to the consequences when he made that particular choice. It took months for him to accept those consequences and apply them to the surge of anger he had felt toward Snape.
Or perhaps it just took months of Remus not speaking to him for him to learn how to act contrite.
Sirius ran away and moved into his house. Hyper-active, manic-depressive... James stayed awake some nights to listen to Sirius's muffled, miserable sobs on the other side of the wall. Ever since first year, it had been like this, Sirius combining fury and sorrow, usually in response to something his parents had done. He never let anyone see him cry.
His Hogwarts letter came in the mail together with the badge for Head Boy. Dumbledore's "talk" with him after the Shack Incident suddenly made sense. All those insinuations about responsibility, about character and power... The penetrating look in the old man's eyes, the unaccountable sorrow. It made James burn up with indignation. He hadn't been the one to tell Snivellus about the willow. He knew better than to kill his adversary, had perfected the art of war between Severus and himself until it was a study in how-not-to-get-caught. But now, with this letter... Even Dumbledore couldn't deny that he was the only man fit for the job. Now even Evans would have to notice him.
James thought he understood a bit about responsibility. Now he wouldn't have to hex underclassmen. He had a badge that would proclaim it for him--he was the best; he was the strongest and the smartest. Inside himself, the stag reared its head, stamped the ground, and displayed its antlers with pride.
Sirius and Remus made up. Lily got bored with resisting him. Peter resigned himself to not making such a fuss about everything.
Sirius and Remus seemed to forget or else wilfully ignore what had parted them; they were now actively devoted to each other, with Sirius eating out of Remus's hand. Lily let James search for that elusive something within her. He didn't find it, but for the first time in his life he thought he could be content just searching, as long as it was forever, as long as it was with her. Peter discovered himself to be the object of a fourth-year's infatuation. Sirius thought she was following them around for himself, the arrogant prick. Peter knew better and got nervous. James knew better and found it amusing.
Severus Snape joined the Death Eaters.
For a long time, James tried to find that funny, too.
Graduation.
(Sirius and Remus moved into a flat together.)
Dumbledore asked him to join the Order. He joined. They all joined. Before they really knew what it meant.
(Remus had trouble finding a job.)
His parents were both killed in a Death Eater raid. Some new kind of potion dissolved all their insides, left them choking on their own bloody bile, a vast pool of it congealing slowly on their kitchen floor. They had been enjoying breakfast. They had been strong Dumbledore supporters.
Lily got pregnant. The wedding was hasty but wildly fun. It seemed like people just seized on a rare chance to celebrate. Remus showed up drunk. He had been fired. Again. Werewolves were joining Voldemort in droves. There were reports of werewolf sightings during new moons.
Lily's parents were killed in what the Muggle newspapers called "a freak accident." James had never seen enraged hysteria like Lily's sister's at the funeral.
Harry ("James Marcellus Potter Junior" "Harry James Potter or we're letting Sirius pick the name") was born.
James fell head over heels in love.
He had a son.
Lily fell head over heels in love.
They had a son.
They would have been jealous of each other, if Harry didn't have a way of smiling at them both.
Dumbledore told them they were in danger.
Severus Snape told them that they had a traitor in their midst.
Those black eyes... James remembered hating them because they were empty and silent, full of all the secrets and Dark Magic that the Slytherin boy (man, now, full-grown man, with some of the presence and grace that must have rubbed off from Lucius Malfoy) seemed to wallow in. Now they reflected Hellfire, tortured and damned and begging James to believe him. Why Severus Snape should care, James didn't want to know, didn't question.
The logical thing would have been for James himself to act as Secret Keeper for his wife and his son.
Sirius Black, who himself had taken to drink (was it when Regulus died? or was it when Remus tried to throw him out that one time, before realizing that Sirius held the deed to their flat?), told James in no uncertain terms that he was not allowed to take such a risk himself. Something about preserving the family life that he and Remus would never be able to have...
Remus had taken to disappearing for weeks at a time. The Ministry restricted werewolf movements, werewolf interaction with Muggles... So Sirius didn't follow him, after the first time, when he found him working at a Muggle bar. Sirius had been questioned by the authorities later (they were questioning everyone, everywhere, hoping for any information to use against Voldemort). They wanted to throw Remus in Azkaban. They settled for a fine.
Days before the Fidelius Charm, James asked him, "What will you do, Padfoot, if they use Remus against you? What will you do if Remus himself wants you over on their side? Will you be able to say no?"
He honestly hadn't expected the look of haggard desperation that was Sirius's response, the, "Jamie... I don't know." He took it like a punch in the gut. Somehow, he supposed, he had been hoping... But Sirius had been desperate for Remus for years. A simple matter like betrayal wouldn't stop him.
And then--"Look, I've been thinking." A Sirius-plan. Guaranteed to be brilliant, insane, and just within the realm of the possible. "Let everyone believe that I'm the Secret Keeper. Let me hide. Let me run. And meanwhile--" Here his voice dropped. The old conspiratorial whisper, but without the mischievous glint. It had been absent for a while. "Have Peter undergo the charm instead."
"Peter...?" Peter had been a fading presence in their lives. He and Lily weren't comfortable around each other. He always looked at Harry as though terrified the infant would break in his care. Lily was content to let him think so.
"Yes. Look. James. Let me do this for you. Let me do it for him. Maybe if he sees... I don't know. If he sees..."
"Sirius. We know that there's a traitor." He wouldn't tell Sirius why. Sirius wouldn't understand Snape's duplicity, would probably only compromise the man's position. "You don't honestly think... I mean... It has to be Remus. Whatever they did to get him, he's theirs." James perhaps should have felt sad or hurt, should have felt something like what Sirius felt, but part of him had always known Remus for a Dark Creature, something not to be trusted.
Sirius looking at him with Padfoot's despairing eyes. "I know. But even so... I have to go after him."
"You mean get captured and tortured until they discover that you're no use to them and then kill you."
"Better than just holing up and waiting to be destroyed."
James's level, displeased gaze was lost on Sirius. As, apparently, was his own reference to the Potters' situation.
"He's with them, Jamie. Like you said. I need a chance. Maybe if he sees... Maybe if I lose myself, like he did. And Peter will stay quiet and out of trouble, 's what he's good at, and someday Dumbledore will figure out how to take that crazy bastard down, and you and Lily and the squirt will be safe, and it will all have been worth it."
"And what about you, Sirius?" All the messy emotional stuff they'd never spoken, never even touched... You're my best friend. "Your godson needs you."
The wry grin that was all motorbikes and pranks on Slytherin, breaking, somewhat, like after a howler from home. "But I need Remus. If he's lost, so am I."
James didn't say anything against it after that. Peter seemed to throw himself into the role of Secret Keeper, and James was reminded unpleasantly of all the times he'd encouraged the blonde boy at school, only to regret it later when Peter showered him with praise and attention. He had thought that maybe Peter was developing his own life.
But in the end he could look at his wife and son, he could look at the sanctuary that Dumbledore's most powerful magic had wrought, and feel hope.
They would be safe.