The Marauders: Year Five #Wattys2017

You Know Lily Evans, Moony!

You Know Lily Evans, Moony!

"Wait, Evans... You're going the wrong way."

James turned after her, running through the trees. His eyes still burning with tears, he was seeing a bit blurry and he walked into a branch that was still swinging from her passage and it knocked his glasses off and he paused to bend for them - they were cracked so he could only half see 'round that and for the life of him he couldn't remember the spell to fix them (something reparo) and even if -- he tapped across his chest and back for his wand. Well, he did have it - tucked under his sweater, twisted through a belt loop at his back. That was impressive, actually, he'd thought it was in the robes he'd given Frank. He drew the wand, "Lumos."

"Evans!" he called out through the dark. But he'd paused long enough that he had no idea where she'd gone. He couldn't hear her anymore and his eyes weren't keen in the dark even without the broken glasses. He reached up and shook twigs and leaves out of his hair. He realized he'd lost his orientation, too, and he knew he hadn't any choice but to turn back to the stag - even though he had a feeling it would make Lily even more angry/hurt if she saw him as the stag again so soon. It was the only way he was going to find her... Unable to see the castle he couldn't be positive, but he was pretty sure they were headed in the direction of the clearing by the Black Lake, which was one of Sirius's favorite places to go when they snuck into the woods... And unless Sirius had called off his plans on account of James not showing up at the Shack, then Padfoot and Wormtail were out and about with the werewolf in these woods...

The stag burst forward through the trees, hooves nearly silent on the bracken, moving with much more agility than James Potter had done. He breathed and could smell her, that shampoo of hers stuck out like a strobe light among the smells of the forest, unnaturally sweet and clean. James ducked and twisted his way through the brush, chasing after the wafting scent of her, each step closer they got to the Black Lake, the more his foreboding grew.

Suddenly, there was a great deal of barking coming through the trees to his left and he cried out in that terrible shrieking cry that his stag made, unable to hold it back as the panic rose up in him and he leaped through the brush.

Padfoot looked up, ears pricked.

He had definitely heard something in the woods, coming closer.

Wormtail was curled into the fur between his shoulder blades and he shifted about, too. Padfoot felt his tiny claws pricking his skin as he turned to look.

Moony? Padfoot looked over his shoulder, where the werewolf was lapping water up from the lake's edge behind him. He inched backwards from the treeline beyond. Remus, you're you, yeah?

Sirius?

Stay with me, mate. Padfoot moved over, standing close to his Moony, his hackles raising, I think James is coming. So the stag's gonna come out of those trees in a second. Don't lose yourself. Alright? Remember is just James...

Moony wagged his wolfy tail. Just James.

Yeah, just James.

Padfoot stood protectively just the same though as Wormtail wriggled and twisted his way down his leg and across the beach, excited because he felt much safer riding between James's antlers than he did on Padfoot's back. The fur of the dog was much less stable than James's antlers and he played roughly with the wolf - Peter had nearly been caught up in their playful nips more than once and whatever Sirius said about it not mattering if the werewolf bit you as an animal, Peter had a feeling that a bite on something as small as a rat - venomous or not - would be enough to kill him, so he was still less than fond of the razor sharp teeth and claws that had been flying at him as he trembled about on Sirius's back.