Chapter Text
Morning came far too harshly in the opinion of the boys sprawled around the backyard. The soft morning glow a blazing haze to their alcohol addled heads.
Remus turned his face further into the soft chest he was resting upon, hiding his eyes from the sun. It felt strange to feel so comfortable with a person he barely knew, but Cal brought out a gentler side of him he’d not had the chance to explore before. To be treated so preciously, not like a fractured vase that could crack at any second, cutting the person who held it, but like an old manuscript, that needed its pages turned with deliberate ease. Cal treated him with the same level of reverence one would give to that sort of object as well, eyeing him hungrily, not with the intention to own, but to worship, and Remus has never been worshipped.
A hand made its way to his head then, fingers threading into the soft blond strands of hair, nails scraping lightly along his scalp. Slightly chapped lips brushed his forehead, and a low hum came from the boy beneath him.
That was the other thing about Cal. He called him ‘Pretty boy’, not maliciously, or even ironically, but because that’s how he viewed Remus, pretty. There had been a couple of girls at Hogwarts who’d found him mysterious, and one had been bold enough to call his scars ‘sexy’.
A boy in the year above them had also expressed interest but had made the rash assumption that Remus would be on board with a physical relationship only. That had amounted to nothing more than a quick snog and a messy hand job after Remus realised his intentions. But Cal – Merlin Cal – this man seemed so genuine it scared him. He decided then and there that he’d have to find time to talk to Sevessa about him today. He didn’t feel comfortable falling any deeper into this… thing… without understanding a bit more of the person he’d be falling into, and Sevessa was a notoriously blunt person.
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Sirius awoke with a groan and a foreign feeling of warmth in his chest. Groggy and hungover it took him longer than he would have liked to realise the feeling felt foreign cause it wasn’t his, and didn’t that put a sour twist on the morning. He forced his eyes to open just slightly so that he could look across the yard to confirm his suspicions. And there they were, that random nobody and one of his best friends cuddled so close they hadn’t needed Cal’s bedroll at all. Frustration fuelling him, Sirius shook himself awake fully and lent over to kick Peter in the shins.
“Pete! Pete!” he whispered.
Peter grunted and rolled over to glare blearily in Sirius’ direction.
“Fucking what, you absolute twat?” he mumbled sleepily.
“Get up! Come on Pete, get up!”
Sirius kicked him again and added a shake to his shoulder for good measure.
“You wanted to work on your cardio, right? Well, here’s your chance, I’m itching for a run, and you,” Sirius paused to poke Peter’s nose, “are gonna join me.”
Peter groaned again, but very slowly began to sit up, blinking his eyes in quick succession in an attempt to make them stay open.
The air was sufficiently warm again, but not blisteringly so at this time of the morning. The two boys ditched their shirts and made their way quietly around the rest of the group and out the front gate.
They started with a medium jog, to warm up, and shake off the last tendrils of sleep clinging to them like Devil’s Snare.
They fell into rhythm, the quiet slap of bare feet on pavement punctuated by the occasional birdcall. Sirius set the pace, naturally faster than Peter would have liked.
The uneven ground beneath his feet gave him something to focus on. Step here. Watch that rock. That one’s loose—pick the one next to it. All the while, the feeling in his chest only grew heavier. It made him sick to his stomach for a reason he couldn’t name, though he had felt it before. The change had occurred six months ago, just before leaving for the winter holidays. Sirius had been forced back to Grimmauld Place despite his best attempts to avoid it. On the platform in Hogsmeade, Remus had seen the dread curling in his stomach and had wrapped him in a hug so warm, so unshakably sweet, it had banished every inch of tension from Sirius’ body.
After that, he had started to view Remus in a different light to the other boys, he refused to think about it of course – he’d have to be knock-out drunk before he did that. To have Remus’ soul entwined with his and exuding affection for Cal… well, if he really thought about that it’d be enough to bring him to tears; so, he didn’t think. Instead, he pumped his legs faster, forcing a sprint.
“Keep up, Wormtail!” he barked over his shoulder, hair flying loose around his face.
Peter cursed but dug in, short legs pumping furiously until Sirius slowed again, letting them both catch their breath with another jog. It didn’t last long before Sirius surged forward once more, the sudden burst making Peter groan.
“Merlin’s balls, are you trying to kill me?” Peter panted, huffing after him.
“Cardio, Pete!” Sirius shouted back with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
They kept at it, sprint, jog, sprint, jog, until both of them were puffing hard, lungs burning, sweat glistening on their backs in the morning light. Sirius finally slowed to a walk, dragging in air like he’d never tasted it before, and Peter collapsed onto the curb with a wheeze.
For a few moments, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing. Then Peter glanced sideways at him, face red and hair plastered to his forehead.
“Alright,” he rasped, “what’s wrong with you?”
Sirius dragged a hand through his hair, still panting, and let out a sharp bark of a laugh.
“Wrong with me? Nothing’s wrong with me. Just trying to keep you from turning into a doughball, Wormy. You should be thanking me.”
Peter wheezed, unimpressed, and lent forward on his knees. His glare flat.
“Nope. Absolutely not. You do not get to kick me awake at the ass-crack of dawn after shoving firewhiskey down my throat last night and then try to act like you’re not being tormented by something that is clearly very big and very dramatic.”
Sirius’ stomach twisted further, jaw tightening for a second before he scoffed and looked away.
“Big and dramatic? Please. That’s your department.”
Peter didn’t blink. Just stared, eyebrows raised, until the silence stretched.
Sirius held the stare for all of five seconds before groaning and throwing his head back.
“Fine! You want it? Here it is: I wake up, and what do I see? Moony draped all over some random nobody like they’re bloody—bloody star-crossed lovers in a sodding Shakespeare play.”
His voice cracked into a laugh that was more bark than humour.
“But he’d not just anyone, is he? No, it’s Cal—mister bedroll’s-optional, mister look-at-me-I’ll-keep-you-comfortable. Give me a break!”
Peter blinked at him, chest still heaving from the run. “So, you’re jealous.”
“I’m not—” Sirius started hotly, but the word caught. The implication slicing too close to that feeling he’s refusing to think about. His mouth twisted, eyes flashing. “I just don’t like it. He barely knows the bloke, and suddenly they’re all…” He waved his hands in a helpless gesture, “… tangled together like some sappy romance painting. It’s pathetic.”
Peter tilted his head, still watching him with that irritatingly perceptive look.
“Right. Not jealous at all.”
Sirius scowled and kicked at a loose stone, sending it skittering down the road.
Peter let out a long breath, still red-faced from the run, and leaned back on his hands. “Look, Pads… if it is jealousy, that’s not the end of the world. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Sirius snorted, sharp and immediate. “Please! God, Pete! Stop beating the dead horse. I’m not jealous. I’m just—” He gestured vaguely in the air, fingers twitching. “—looking out for my best mate. Someone has to. Remus deserves better than some bloke he barely knows!”
Peter watched him, lips pursed, clearly debating whether to call him out again. In the end, he just sighed and gave a small shrug. “Alright. You’re just looking out for him.”
Sirius nodded once, firmly, as if that settled it.
“But,” Peter added, softer this time, “if you ever… want to talk about it—for real, I mean—you can. With me.”
Sirius looked away, jaw working, then smirked without humour. “What would I even say, Wormtail? ‘Hi, I’m Sirius Black, and my feelings are a bloody mess’? Real riveting conversation, that.”
Peter only rolled his eyes. “You’d be surprised what I’d listen to.”
For a moment, Sirius’s shoulders eased, taking a moment to appreciate Peter’s friendship, though his mouth stayed sharp. He kicked another pebble down the road, muttering, “Yeah, well. Don’t hold your breath.”
But Peter caught the flicker in his expression—just enough to know the offer had landed.
Peter pushed himself back to his feet with a groan and dusted his palms on his shorts. “Alright then, Mister No-Jealousy, let’s get this over with before I collapse and you have to carry me home.”
Sirius huffed a laugh, relief flickering in it. “Please. You’d be lucky to have me haul your sorry arse anywhere.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Peter muttered, but there was no bite in it. He set off at a slow jog, leaving Sirius to match his pace this time.
The road stretched quiet ahead of them, their footfalls falling into rhythm once more. Sirius kept his eyes forward, hair sticking damp to his temples. Peter let the silence sit.
By the time the crooked fence posts of the Snape’s yard came into view, Sirius’s breathing had steadied again. He rolled his shoulders, straightened up, and flashed a grin that was almost convincing.
“See, Wormtail? Cardio. You’ll thank me later.”
Peter snorted, half-dead on his feet. “If I live that long.”
They slipped back through the gate, Sirius looking as untouchable as ever—except for the faint, unsettled gleam in his grey eyes that Peter didn’t miss.
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After breakfast, everyone gathered again in the backyard. The camping gear had been shoved to the side once more, clearing space for a tall wooden tower that loomed like a watch post. Its four walls were sheer and unwelcoming, the handholds set deliberately far apart, daring anyone to try.
Tobias clapped his hands once, the sound sharp enough to cut through the morning chatter. Eileen stood beside him, shoulders squared, dressed in an old t-shirt and leggings that made her look more warrior than mother. Together, they carried a quiet authority that silenced the group without effort.
“The tower is an intense test of teamwork and communication,” Tobias said, voice carrying across the yard. “To scale the walls, you will need to balance give and take. Each hand and foothold is set too far apart to reach alone and leaping for them is reckless — you’ll waste your strength and have nothing left to fight with at the top.”
He let the words settle, then turned to Eileen. Without hesitation, he extended a rough, calloused hand. She met his eyes — steady, unflinching — and laced her fingers through his.
“We will demonstrate,” he said simply. “Watch closely. This climb is not about power, but partnership.”
They approached the base, movements unhurried but sure. Tobias crouched low, lacing his fingers to make a stirrup. Eileen planted a foot and let him hoist her upward, her body uncoiling in one long, graceful reach. She caught the first ledge, swung her other hand to the next, then looked down. Tobias was already climbing beneath her, his frame a ladder of muscle and intent. She bent, bracing her heel against a foothold, and extended her arm. He caught it, his weight pulling hers taut, and in a single practiced motion he used her balance to propel himself higher.
They moved like gears in a well-oiled mechanism — alternating, anchoring, giving one another leverage until the climb became a rhythm. Breath short, muscles straining with effort, they pressed upward together. In seconds, they were crouched on the platform above, Tobias’s hand steadying Eileen as she pulled the last of herself over the edge.
The group below was silent, caught between awe and intimidation.
Tobias leaned over the rim. “Who’s first?”
The ground crew turned to look at each other.
Sevessa caught Jem’s eye and raised an eyebrow. It had been a screwy past few days and other than the initial explanation they hadn’t had a lot of time to talk. She knew he was still uneased by the marauders’ presence, and even more so at her newfound tolerance for them. Their relationship wasn’t so shallow that her world turning upside down would break them, but they were both fairly sensitive people, and it didn’t hurt to remind him of his place in her life.
“Jem?” She said, reaching out a hand in mimicry of her Father.
He kept their eye contact a heartbeat longer before looking down at it, and grasping it in his own, a light smirk curling on his cheek.
Jem pulled her in closer to himself, so they were standing side by side, then looked up to Tobias.
“We’ll go first.”
He nodded.
“Alright. Your goal is to get to the top in under 10 seconds, once you’ve accomplished that, it will go down to 5. I doubt any of you will achieve that today.”
Tobias moved to the grab a rope that was coiled around a series of pulleys and used it to abseil his way down the tower, before releasing it and allowing Eileen to do the same. He took hold of her waist as she neared the ground to steady her landing, squeezing her hips as an almost imperceptible show of affection.
He gestured at Jem and Sevessa to approach the tower, then spoke to the group at large.
“You’ll want to start by giving Partner A a boost so they can grab a solid hold onto the wall. Then, that person will lend their strength to Partner B on the ground allowing them to climb up next to them or higher. If done correctly, Partner B should have the momentum to swing Partner A higher as they push off the ledge, and so on, using one person’s movement to fuel the other’s.”
The others watched with rapt attention as Jem knelt to one knee, providing a platform for Sevessa to push off of.
Sevessa planted her boot in the cradle of Jem’s thigh, the warmth of his grip steady at her ankle. She pushed off hard as he shoved upward, the sudden burst of momentum sending her just high enough to snag the first ledge. Her fingers slipped on the rough grain before catching hold, splinters biting into her skin as she clung there, arms trembling with the strain.
“Got it,” she hissed through clenched teeth. She braced, pulling herself flush to the wall. Jem rose in a fluid motion beneath her, springing upward to catch the grip she left behind. She shifted, extending her arm, and their hands slapped together with enough force to sting. He swung on her pull, the motion jerking her shoulders but dragging him up into position beside her.
They were significantly less graceful than her parents. Their weight pulled against each other, rocking them dangerously with every move. But that swing — that back-and-forth — carried them higher than raw strength ever could. Jem bent low, bracing himself like a coiled spring, then boosted Sevessa upward with a grunt. She shot up, fingertips just brushing the next hold, and had to kick hard off the wall to reach it. For a breath she dangled there, boots scrabbling against the wood, before finding a purchase.
“Plant your foot!” Tobias barked from below. “Don’t dangle like a ragdoll!”
She anchored herself and immediately crouched down. Jem held strong, and instead of jumping straight up, he swung — letting her weight drag him sideways before she hauled him back, the pendulum motion vaulting him to the next ledge. The wall itself seemed to shudder with their rhythm.
Halfway up, Sevessa lost her footing entirely, boot slipping clean off the narrow groove.
“Shit!”
Her body lurched, dangling only from Jem’s locked grip on her wrist.
A sharp gasp came from somewhere beneath them.
“Don’t let go!” Lily’s voice rang, panicked.
He swore under his breath, bracing with everything he had until she could claw her way back into place. Their foreheads nearly knocked together when she steadied, and for a heartbeat they both laughed — sharp, breathless, desperate — before surging upward again.
By the time they reached the top, their movements were less climbing than flinging. Jem grasped her hand for one last push, launching her upward with every ounce of strength left in him. She caught the rim, elbows screaming as she pulled herself over. Then she leaned back, arms outstretched, and Jem took them without hesitation. He swung up on her pull, feet kicking at empty air, before tumbling onto the platform beside her.
They lay there, side by side, lungs heaving, sweat stinging their eyes, hands scraped raw. Below, Tobias’s approving nod was curt, businesslike, but Eileen’s mouth twitched into the smallest flicker of a smile.
The yard below hummed with gasps, mutters, curses under breath — a nervous chorus. The climb suddenly more daunting now that they’d seen what it truly demanded.