"I'm telling you lot, Garm Tyr's a werewolf," James said after the DADA class, as Lily and Sirius followed him through empty corridors towards Gryffindor tower, having cast a muffliato, just for safe measures so that they could talk freely about the events of the class. "He has to be. And he's onto Remus, too."
Sirius nodded his agreement, "Yeah, I don't know what's going on with him that Moony can't smell it, but I agree. He's got to be. He is always sick at the same time that Remus is. And with a lot of the same symptoms."
"Perhaps Remus can't smell him because he's found some way to mask the scent of wolfishness? Maybe there's some sort of charm or special soap or something that Remus doesn't know of? I don't know," Lily suggested.
Sirius shrugged, "Perhaps but I've read loads of books about werewolves - probably the only topic I've finished a book on at all, honestly --"
"How are you in seventh year without having read a book all the way through?" Lily muttered to herself.
"-- and I've never once seen a reference to a wolfishness-scent-reducing soap," Sirius concluded, ignoring Lily's question.
They reached the top of the last flight of stairs leading up, and were walking down the hall toward the Portrait of the Fat Lady, who sat grooming herself with a silver-handled brush and mirror, pomping her curls with her palm as she looked up into the reflection.
"Hang on," James said, pausing walking a moment to piece together his thoughts. "What if Garm is who Slughorn's been brewing all that wolfsbane for?"
"Brilliant!" Sirius said enthusiastically, "It's obvious! Wolfsbane must be how Dumbledore pays him for his work!"
"He's brewing it for the werewolves that Professor Veigler's hosting," Lily injected, shaking her head, "Remember? Professor Veigler said so. Remus said he said so."
"Damn," muttered Sirius.
James rubbed his chin. "Well, perhaps Garm is the 'contract' that Remus said he mentioned having to fill."
"Possible," Lily mused. "Or perhaps he's stealing it from the store rooms, the same as Severus is."
Sirius started to light up with a new suspicion, but James cut him off, "I don't reckon so, only because Minnie seemed to know Garm quite well. It sounded as though they might've attended school here together, even. I reckon the way she spoke to him that she would know it if he was a werewolf and if there were stores missing unexpectedly they'd look right to him as the thief."
"Oh, that's true," Lily mused. "Well, stores are going missing mysteriously if Snape's stealing some, aren't they?"
James rubbed his chin. "I don't reckon he's stealing it, I reckon Dumbledore must know he's a wolf and be giving him potion. Dumbledore knew about Ned Veigler, too, and still hired him, so I reckon there's no pulling the wool over Dumbledore's eyes, he just doesn't discriminate against werewolves."
"Good news for Remus's future, that is," Lily smiled.
James mused, "Yeah... but I'm not sure what it means for Garm Tyr and what his purpose here is."
"You know," Sirius said, "I really don't know what to think about Garm at all. He seems like a real arsehole evil bad guy type but --" He shrugged. "Dunno. There's something about him that makes me think he's not. We suspected Ned Veigler of loads of rubbish, too, that turned out not to be, once upon a time, too. So maybe Garm isn't so horrible, either. Maybe the whole arsehole thing's a facade."
"So basically what you're saying, Sirius, is that you like his hair so you're willing to overlook the terrible things he's done, bullying James and Remus?" Lily asked, half teasing and half annoyed.
Sirius snorted, but it was duly noted that he didn't actually argue with her accusation.
"ARE YOU COMING IN OR NOT? I'm trying to get my hair sorted out and you're distracting me!" The Fat Lady asked, scowling from her portrait.
"Yeah, we're coming," Sirius said, rolling his eyes, "Bloody pushy portrait..."
"Actually," James cleared his throat, glanced at Lily, then back to Sirius, "I think Evans and I need to be doing our rounds."
Lily nodded, "Yes. Loads of rounds need doing."
Sirius smirked, "You fucking perverts," he announced, then turned to the Fat Lady's portrait. "Phoenix," he said and she swung open. "Don't forget to use the 'trojanus protectus' you lot, don't want any little wizards running amuck." He winked and ducked through quickly as James raised his wand threateningly, a loud cackle just escaping as the Fat Lady swung shut behind him.
Lily's face was red as she turned to James, looking up at his face as he stared after Sirius, his jaw set with annoyance and embarrassment. His hair fell perfectly over his forehead, sticking up in just the right sort of way over the rest of his head. James had just the perfect amount of stubble, too, growing out on his chin, cheeks, and temples, giving him a much older and more mature appearance. She smiled and reached up and ran her fingers along his jawline, "Potter," she said.
He turned to look at her. "Evans."
"I love you, Potter," Lily said.
James smiled, "I love you too, Evans," and he bent down to kiss her gently. Lily slid her fingers over his jaw and into his hair, wrapping her arms about his strong, wide shoulders, and his hands rested on her hips.
"You are such a handsome boy," she said when he drew back, her eyes sparkling as she looked into his eyes. "Did I ever tell you that?"
James's grin widened until his lip hung up on his crooked tooth the way she liked - that once cocky smile that she now knew was simply his truly happiest grin. "No," he said, "I'm gangly and all stupidly proportioned." He waved his arms like a monkey and Lily laughed.
"Don't be an idiot," she accused. Then, "You know perfectly well that all the girls swoon over you in this school."
"Swoon over me!" James hooted. He paused, eyeing her, looking her over, "And what of you, love? Do you swoon over me?"
Lily smirked.
James's laughed, accepting the smirk as his answer, and bent to kiss her again. When he drew back, he stepped back, holding her hand up and appraising her, "But don't get the wrong idea, Evans, I'm still just an average boy and you -- you are a knock out. There's no explanation for how a boy like me has ended up with a beauty of a girl like you. Merlin's beard."
Lily flushed. "Oh stop."
"It's true," James said, "Every time I look at you, ever since the very first time, I lose my breath and my brains for how beautiful you are. Inside and out, Evans, inside and out."
Lily giggled, "Stoppp. I'm not."
"You are to me," and he leaned in and kissed her once again.
When they pulled back this time, they stood close, staring into one another's eyes, their foreheads touching. "You are so bloody smooth, Potter," Lily murmured. "How do you come up with this rubbish?"
James grinned. "I take notes all the time. I have a little notebook. Smooth things to say to Evans that'll make her snog me harder, I call it. One day, I'll publish it as a self-help manual for all the boys to read. Then, I practice the delivery of all the things I come up with in the mirror to be sure a smooth delivery of my lines..."
"Liar," she snorted.
James laughed, "I am lying, your right." He paused. "I dunno, I look at you and all this mushy shite just pops into my head like magic, I suppose."
Lily shook her head, "And there you go again."
"I'm telling you, it comes naturally."
Lily kissed him yet again.
Sirius had gone straight up to the Marauder's dormitory and found Remus fast asleep, with Peter sitting cross-legged pouring over a complicated looking chart of numbers and symbols, marking things down and rotating the chart as he muttered to himself. Sirius dumped his books and parchment onto his desk, undoing his Gryffindor tie and tossing it to the floor. He watched Peter as he worked at undoing the buttons on his shirt, revealing a Queen t-shirt underneath, and flung the button-up down as well, kicking it under the desk.
"What's all that you're doing?" Sirius asked as he bent to undo the laces of his boots.
Peter looked up, surprised Sirius was asking about his divination work. "It's a Horary Chart," he said.
"A whore chart?" Sirius asked, misunderstanding the word Peter had said. "Pimping yourself out this term, Wormtail?"
"Not a whore chart," Peter replied patiently, "Horary. It's a sort of divination where you look at the stars and planet alignments at the time when a question is originally asked and you can determine what the answer of fate is."
Sirius chucked his boots aside. "Oh," he said.
"It's quite complicated work, but Professor Clearwater says it's the most accurate," Peter explained.
Sirius nodded, "Well. Then. You get to it."
Peter nodded, too, and turned back to his chart hurriedly.
Sirius glanced at Remus, who was sprawled across his bed, looking quite comfortable, and didn't want to disturb him, so he climbed instead onto James's bed - why not his own, nobody knew, but Sirius never used his own bed and so it wasn't a surprise he chose James's instead - and he put his feet up on the headboard, staring up at the canopy, where a golden snitch buzzed and bumped off the inside of the velvet curtains.
Several long moments passed. Then, bored, Sirius looked over at Peter, who was biting his lower lip in deep concentration. "What're you asking it, Wormy?"
"About Remus," Peter answered. "If he will be okay under the moon this month, given Greyback's got the Wolfsbane... Trying to see if there's more answers here than there are in the throwing stones..." He turned the chart over again, "Also if you'll be alright."
"Me?"
Peter nodded.
Sirius felt an odd welling of affection for Peter that he didn't usually get, and he quickly turned back to watching the zipping snitch overhead, clasping his fingers over his chest thoughtfully as he did. "Well, let me know what you find out," Sirius suggested.
"I will, of course," Peter answered reverently.
Sirius nodded, and closed his eyes as Peter kept on working, shuffling the chart this way and that way and frowning down at it before writing something down and moving on at rotating it again and again and again...
Downstairs, in his office, Garm Tyr couldn't relax. He was burning up with a fever, and his head was throbbing. He shifted against the chaise lounge, groaning. "Here's a cuppa that aconite tea Messer Veegar was telling yer about," Frek said, coming over with a pot and cup on a tray.
Garm reached for the cup and held it to his mouth, sipping it deeply, regardless of the great billows of steam coming up off the surface of the cup. The aconite was a minty flavor that filled his mouth and lungs and he breathed a deep sigh of relief as the leaves began their work, relaxing the tensed muscles throughout his body. He closed his eyes.
"Does them leaves help ya messer Garm?" Frek asked.
"Yes," Garm breathed, and he curled onto his side, hugging his long, skinny knees to his chest, his dreadlocks hanging over the chaise behind him as Mr. Frek hurried to clean up the tea set. "Don't get rid of it, Frek, I'll want more when this bit wears off."
"Of course, Messer Garm," Frek said obediently. He placed the tray on a small end table beside the chaise, right at Garm's elbow. "Is there anythings else ye be wantin', messer Garm?"
"No Frek," Garm said, his voice sharp as a pain stronger than aconite ripped through his back. His back arched as he clenched his jaw. "Now get out."
"Yessir," Frek said, and he hurried toward the door.
The pain in Garm's back relaxed and he sank, panting, back to the cushion of the lounge. Then, remembering the tone he'd just used toward Frek, he called, "I've forgotten my manners, Mr. Frek... Thank you."
Frek paused in the door, his round frame still. "Y-yessir, messer Garm," he stammered.
Garm listened as the door opened and then closed again, and he lay there in agony, panting, trying hard at catching his breath. After awhile, he sat up and flicked his wand, pouring more of the aconite tea into his cup. He watched the yellow liquid pour out into the cup. He sat staring at it after it had finished, watching one of the leaves dance about, bouncing off rims of the cup.
"Daddy, play tea party with me."
"I'm working, Sabrina, I can't..."
"But Daddy, you've been invited."
"I'm sorry Sabrina, I can't just stop working to play right now, it's very important business I'm up to..." The full moon was just days away. Just days left for him to catch the manky bastard, Greyback, and all his cronies...
"But Daddy..."
"NOT NOW, SABRINA," he had snapped.
And she'd stared up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes, her lower lip had trembled, and she'd turned and run away out of the room. Garm had closed his eyes and drawn a deep breath, looking over the maps and clippings of papers, the information that he was trying to decipher, trying to figure out the location of the more nefarious werewolf there was, desperate to capture him... but he could hear her crying from her room, and Garm pinched his nose in frustration, annoyed... wishing she would just shut up and let him think for a second...
And of course just days later, under the full moon, in the dungeons hidden in the Department of Mysteries, deep in the Ministry of Magic... Sabrina Tyr would never invite her father to tea again.
Garm's face was soaked now, staring down at the aconite leaf in that tea cup, hearing his daughter asking him to tea in his mind, and he roared with anger - and in a fit of it, he flipped over the table, sending the tea pot and cup to shatter, the tea spilling across the floor, the leaves spinning in the little rivulets before sinking into the stones. Garm bellowed, pain deep in his body that had nothing to do with being a werewolf.