CHAPTER THREE. . .
Greek Tragedy

"The truth is rarely pure and never simple."
Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest

What will his verse be. . ? The question lingers in the back of August's mind, cementing it's place as the current bane of his existence. Or one of the many banes. August Darlington already has an idea of what his verse entails: a teenager with an anti-establishment, if the world fucks me I'll fuck it right back, streak, all in the effort to gain his mother and father's attention. A Greek tragedy in the making: complete with absent parents and a teetering-on-the-edge-of-being-exiled Prince! August knows that Euripides and Sophocles would have a fucking field-day with the shit show that he has created. And the impending sunset paints the perfect picture for the next backdrop of August's tragedy; the warm reds and oranges of the ever advancing sun blurring together against the sky. The next scene? The Gryffindor Quidditch team meeting on the Pitch.

August holds a lit cigarette between his fingers, flexing his bruised knuckles that echo with phantom pain-the remnants of yesterday's sins. In his other hand, The Odyssey lays within the light, just enough sun for his eyes to scan the pages with keen interest. Excitedly, he's nearing it's completion. August's eyes flicker up from the pages, watching Lily huff with effort as she makes her way up the stairs of the Quidditch stands, brushing a hand against August's shoulder. He smiles softly, and crookedly-the glow of the sunset making his brown eyes even more piercing than usual, and his muscles rippled under his white shirt as he closes The Odyssey, and sets it down on the seat beside him.

"I wish you'd let me heal them." Lily says, into the quiet. "It won't take long or even hurt, I promise."

August shakes his head, sucking in a drag of smoke, and Lily furrows her brows in confusion.

"Why not?" Presses Lily. She crosses her arms with an agitated huff.

"I have a Quidditch meeting." August dismisses.

He feels for his book, running a thumb over the tattered pages as he bites the inside of his lip. He rises from his seat, shoving the book into his bag as he goes. August makes the move to step down the stairs towards the exit of the stands.

But Lily catches his wrist, holding him in place. "August, please just-"

"Lily," August pulls her closer, using his grip on his wrist, "I said no."

August pulls his wrist from Lily's grip, making his way down the stairs before she can catch it again. Head snapping to look down the side of the pitch, James' voice rings through the crisp air.

"Oi, Darlington! Come on, we're all waiting on you."

Carelessly, August puts out his cigarette on the fencing, and leaves it there, stray smoke coiling into the cold air. He slants Lily a small smile, and a shrug before disappearing down the stairs, and through the doorway out. I'm sorry.

With another huff, Lily spins on her heel, directing her piercing glare at James.

"You can stay if you want, Evans." James shouts from the ground.

"Sod off!" Exasperated, Lily spins back on her heel and beelines to the castle.

James watches her leave for a moment, letting the hand on his shoulder turn him around to face most of his Quidditch team.

"Next time, mate." Sirius jokes.

James gestures to him obscenely. He looks to the side as August steps out into the sunlight, pulling his satchel over his shoulder so it rests across his body. Quickly, he makes his way across the Pitch towards them, coming to a stop beside Sirius.

Satisfied that everyone has arrived, James runs a hand through his tussled hair, and clears his throat to gain the attention of his team.

"Well, we may as well get right to it." James says, rocking on the balls of his feet. "Obviously, you've all been guaranteed spots as past members still willing to play. . . But we need a new Chaser, Keeper and Seeker since Heely, Campbell and Shelby all decided to fucking graduate."

Sirius chuckles beside James. He scans the group, watching them kick their toes against the green grass, waiting for James to continue talking.

"Anyway, Quidditch Trails will be towards the end of the month, and before then I want a list from all of you." A collective groan sounds throughout the group. "Yeah, yeah, I know, just be quiet for a second. . . I want a list from each of you detailing what you think we're looking for in our new players. August, you're brainstorming with me on this one."

August nods.

James claps his hands twice. "I think that's all. Be ready bright and early Saturday the 24th! Now, go get your dinner."

As August walks across the Quidditch Pitch to the exit, Sirius jogs to catch up with him. He steps in front of him, placing a hand on August's shoulder as he comes to a stop.

"How's your cheek?" Sirius asks, slipping him an amused grin. But still, concern shimmers in his eyes as he takes in the purple bruising that coats August's left cheek, and his knuckles.

August gingerly touches a hand to his bruised cheek. "Been better."

Sirius moves to the side, allowing August to continue walking. Together, they walk in even strides, exiting the Quidditch Pitch and into the tent to the outside.

"You should go see Pomfrey." Sirius says. "I can tell you from experience that she'll fix you right up. Keep your face pretty."

August doesn't answer, he shakes his head. His mouth quirks as heat travels up his neck in slight embarrassment. Sirius catches a glimpse of August's smile, radiating with his own amusement. He rubs the back of his neck, pushing open the tent entrance, and waits for August to step through before following.

"Pads!" Remus' voice rings through the air, waving for Sirius. "We've got to go!"

Sirius looks to Remus, and back to August. "I'll see you later?"

August nods, and watches Sirius walk away.

☾☾☾

Warm candlelight dances on the walls of August's dorm, the contrasting moonlight spilling through the open window, bringing with it a faint breeze. His roommates each rest in their beds, curtains closed off from the deafening quiet shrouded in August's anxious thoughts. Distracting himself, August uses his fingers to flick to the next page of his new novel, having finished The Odyssey earlier in the day. The paper soft under his fingertips, and he slides a finger down Animal Farm's cover absentmindedly.

One foot hangs in the safe air of his dorm, tapping lightly against the wall to an unknown beat. The other is propped up against the windowsill, an arm hanging out of the window and slowly swinging. Around him, the world is slow, unmoving as his eyes move from word to word. But his concentration is broken by the flapping of wings.

August looks out to the night sky, a white owl moving amongst the shimmering stars. He greets Leonardo, the Darlington family owl, with an open arm to land on, stroking his white head fondly. Leonardo lets out a chirp as he raises his claw from August's arm, a letter strapped to his leg. August unwraps the leather string, and pulls the parchment from around Leonardo's leg, sending him off with a pat and a treat.

And as he watches the owl disappear into the dark, August just stands-crisp, cold air shifts through the window. The cold no longer feels comforting, the weight of the letter in his hand hangs heavy on his iron shoulders.

Sighing August looks to the clock on his beside table: 9:30pm it reads. He clasps the letter tightly in his hands, the paper crumpling and cracking, his grip crushing it beneath his fingertips. In a quick motion, August turns on his heel and exits the room, mindful of the creaking door on his way out. He tip-toes down the stairs carefully, entering the common room where the fire crackles and coats the room in an orange glow.

At first, he doesn't notice the other figure resting on the floor, head leaning back against red couch but as he rounds the corner, moving to stand in front of the fire. Behind him, the unseen figure throat their clears loudly behind him, and August turns to look.

Pleasantly surprise, August finds Sirius watching him with an eyebrow raised in vague curiosity. He tips Sirius a crooked smile. "Shouldn't you be in bed, Mr Black?"

"Could say the same for you, Mr Darlington." Sirius remarks. Sitting up straight, he taps the spot by his side. "Join me?"

August takes the spot without a word, letting his arms hang over his propped-up legs. Sirius spies the letter within his hand-the parchment crumpled within August's tense grip, glinting stark white against the warm glow of the fire. Frustration pulse off August like waves of radiation, dripping from the flight frown that pulls the sides of his mouth down to his chin.

"Who's the letter from?" Sirius' curiosity beats his better conscience as he gestures to the letter-the clear root of August's frustrations.

August laughs bitterly. "My parents."

"They must have nothing but good things to say." Sirius jokes lightly. He can't but help the sympathy that pours into his tone like golden honey.

August laughs again; the sound is deep, almost guttural as the resentment continues to churn within his uneasy stomach. "You would be surprised. Not everybody loves to have August Darlington as a son."

When Sirius looks to him, August sucks in a breath.

"Fuck them." Sirius says firmly. "They're missing out."

"Thanks." August whispers sincerely.

Silence follows his words, and August looks to the letter, turning it underneath his calloused fingers. His eyes flick from the fire to the parchment, back and forth as an idea begins to form, clicking into place. In a flash, the parchment is crumbling, burning to nothing but specs of ash and flame. The heat of the fire eats away at each and every wrathful word scrawled onto the parchment, before morphing into nothing.

"Fuck them." August flashes Sirius a grin. He rises to his feet, heaving Sirius up along with him. "Feel like getting into trouble?"

Sirius grins widely, raising an eyebrow. "Baby, I was born for trouble."

"You're ridiculous." August shakes his head in exasperated laughter, and pulls him out of the common room to seek the distraction he craves.

☾☾☾

That night August found himself lost in a very different verse from the one he'd created in his mind earlier in the day. This one with laughter, a warm fire and flushed cheeks. As Sirius and August had rounded the corner towards the Library in search of trouble in the form of Professor Keating's yearbook, something within August clicked. He had pushed himself against a pillar, hiding just out of view of Filch as he moved through the stone-walled corridor. And thinking that Filch had moved on, August began his trek towards the Library. But before he could make even half-a-step, a hand pulled him back into the shadows, and an electric shock ran from his fingertips to his spine, causing him to shiver.

At first, August had put it down to static, but as Sirius held him steady against the pillar, hovering his body over August's, he felt different. The shadows bathed the two teens in darkness, and August choked on a breath, eyes widening as approaching footsteps echoed loudly throughout the quiet hallway. He found the same electric storm scorching his already fiery veins when he looked into Sirius's eyes, who put a single finger to his quirked mouth, and motioned for him to be quiet. August shivered as Sirius' warm breath hit his cold shoulder, and the footsteps moved closer to their pillar.

In the beats of silence that passed and the fading footsteps, it was then that August realised he was fucked. His body buzzed, and flushed warm. August didn't have the will, or the want to step away from Sirius, he realised, he was fine right there.

"Next time," Sirius had muttered, "make sure they're really gone."

August somehow had enough composure to laugh, head thrown back, and leaned against the pillar. He nudged Sirius' shoulder and pushed off the pillar with the last self-restraint that he could muster. August nods to the library. "Come on, we've got a yearbook to find."

The rest of the night became a blur of laughter and that electric feeling.

☾☾☾

August didn't sleep much that night. And in the early hours of the morning, he found himself alone after travelling to the kitchens in search of a cup of coffee. On the edge of his dorm's windowsill, he watches the sight of the sun rising over the Scottish highlands fondly, and in his hands August cups the mug of coffee in his cold hands like it is his only tether to life, the only current thing worth living for. Warm steam curls in the air above, and licks at the side's of the white ceramic mug, pooling down to his hands. A crisp breeze competes with the warmth of the steam, rocketing through the sky and into his dorm, further ruffling his mussed-hair, creating goosebumps on the back of his tan neck.

He'd put off moving from his dorm when all of his roommates headed to breakfast in a whirlwind of rambunctious banter, throw-away digs. Sighing, August looks back to his bag with Keating's yearbook safely tucked within it's pocket, and catches the time on his clock: 8:50am. He pushes himself off the windowsill, his feet tingling as they hit the stone floor hard. Muggle Studies is the first of five classes for the day, and he doesn't plan on being late this time.

Lily meets him at the bottom of the stairs, foot tapping an accusatory beat. "Did you sleep last night?"

August purses his lips and shrugs, eyes flicking towards the ashes of last nights fire. Flashes of laughter and books under the light of Lumos hit August like a crashing wave.

"How many times do I have to tell you that it takes time to put this together, Evans. A lot of precious time." He chooses to reply. A eloquently twisted truth; he'd tried to catch a few hours of sleep after the adventures of August and Sirius, but failed miserably.

Lily knew immediately, the gift of seeing through August's bullshit one of her many qualities. Her eyes roam his straight stance and poised smile for even a flicker of falsehood, easily finding it within the coffee stain browning his otherwise perfect shirt just by the collar. But surprisingly, the redhead chooses not to mention it. Instead, Lily raises her wand, vanishing the stain and tugging him towards the common room's exit.

The Muggle Studies classroom is ripe with life when Lily and August enter two minutes before the bell is scheduled to ring loudly throughout the school. Within the week of school, Keating had installed a record player in the corner of the classroom, and around it stands James and Peter, both thoughtfully toying with it's mechanisms as they attempt to choose from the selection of Muggle music Keating supplied the class.

"What about Elvis?" Sirius suggests from where he lounges against the window. "You can't go wrong with the King of Rock and Roll himself."

August's eye catch his, cheeks flushing as he casts Sirius a crooked smile. It doesn't go unnoticed, Lily nudging his side with a questioning look. August shrugs, and sits in his seat behind Sirius.

James shakes his head. "He's not the right mood for this class."

"Now you're just being picky, Prongs." Remus complains in his seat.

"Bowie." August suggests, voice quieter than Sirius expected. He clears his rough throat. "Hunky Dory."

"Now, that's the right mood!" James says brightly. "Thank you, August."

Carefully, James takes the Hunky Dory record, placing it on the player and hits play as Professor Keating finally enters the room from his office.

For a moment August connects his gaze with Sirius, who gestures to the yearbook sticking out of August's satchel. August shakes his head in return.

"After class," he mouths. "At lunch, bring your friends."

Sirius nods before turning to the front of the class.

"For the beginning of this class I thought we would discuss the parameters of the assignment for this semester before moving onto poetry analysis." Keating begins, flashing the class a shining smile. "To clarify: you have the entirety of this semester, specifically till the last week before Christmas Holidays, to figure out what piece of writing you think reflects the Muggle society and culture as a whole. And for this you can work within groups, or by yourself."

The class explodes with excited chatter. Keating lets it go for a moment before clapping his hands. All sound other than the music ceases, and all eyes return to him.

"Thank you." He says, beginning to pace the length of the blackboard. "The idea of this project is creative freedom. You must dive deeper than the surface level of the pages in front of you and suck them dry of their marrow, their meaning. Aid each other in this endeavour. Consume as much of this marrow as you can to come to a conclusion that you believe to be whole-heartedly true. . ."

August props his chin on his knuckles. What will your verse be. . ?

"You may begin at the end of this class, and use your time for this project wisely. I expect a well-put-together presentation at the end of the allotted time, not just a throwaway show and tell like a child. You are all fully capable of such an achievement." Keating finishes off. "Now onto poetry analysis. . ."

The rest of class passes in a foggy haze, along with three more. At lunchtime, August finds himself standing around one of the many Hogwarts picnic tables scattered across the grounds for students to mingle around. Sirius is by his right, reading over his shoulder. Their friends surround them, each seated at the table fighting for space

"Check this out, Sirius and I found Keating's yearbook from when he was here last night." August says, laying the book flat out on the table.

"And when did you get this?" Lily asks, arms crossed with her eyes narrowed accusingly.

"Irrelevant." August says. "Just look, Lily, captain of the Quidditch team, editor of the school annul, Ministry bound, Thigh man, and the Dead Poets Society."

"Man most likely to do anything." Peter reads from the yearbook.

"Thigh man," Malia snorts. "Seems like Professor Keating was a hell-raiser. I'm surprised they even let him include that."

"What's the Dead Poets Society?" Remus asks curiously. "I've never heard that before."

August and Sirius both shrug.

"We were hoping you would know." August replies.

Remus presses his lips into a thin line. "Is there a picture?"

Sirius pushes the yearbook towards him. They all crowd over Remus' shoulder, aiming to catch a glimpse of Keating and his Quidditch team. Professor Keating is easy to pick from the group, still made of the same small build, thin-wired glasses resting on the perch of his nose. In his hand, Keating holds a Golden Snitch, discoloured by the black-and-white filter of the photo.

"It's like yours, Prongs." Peter points out.

"Wicked." James says with a grin. He pulls his Snitch from his pocket, it's wings remaining closed. He throws it in the air, catching it quickly a few times before placing it back in the comfort of his pocket. "Any pictures of the Dead Poets Society?"

"Nothing." Sirius replies. "No other mention of it."

Malia closes the book just as the first warning bell rings through the grounds. She stands, pushing herself away from the picnic table and hands the yearbook to August.

"Think it's worth asking Keating about?" Malia questions as she begins the trek back towards the castle.

"I'd say so." Sirius advocates. "There's no harm in it. Maybe, it could give us a leg up on the project."

"We should work together." James adds. "Seven heads are better than one. More people, more ideas for texts."

Sirius, Peter and Remus voice their agreements.

August nods thoughtfully. "Yeah, I'm in. Lils? Malia?"

"Why not." Malia replies with a grin. She nudges Lily who grumbles.

"Yeah, alright." Lily agrees. Her eyes flitting to James. "Potter makes a good point."

James brightens at the statement, mouth opening.

Lily shuts him down immediately. "Don't let it get to your head, Potter, you're still a toe-rag."

Before James can reply, he's cut off once again.

"Look, there's Keating." James points to the distant Courtyard.

The faint whistled tune of Overture 1812 floats through the air as Sirius pries the yearbook from August's fingers and bulldozes ahead, leaving him slightly frazzled. James shrugs, wasting no time following the boy who he considers an adoptive brother. With Remus and Peter not far behind. August shakes his head, and regains his composure before dragging both Malia and Lily in their direction.

"Professor Keating?" Sirius calls out.

Professor Keating continues walking through the Courtyard and out towards the lake.

"Professor Keating?" Sirius repeats. "Sir?"

Still, Professor Keating fails to respond.

August pauses for a moment, eyebrows creasing. "Oh Captain, My Captain?" He tries.

Professor Keating turns on his heel at those words, coming to a stop in front of the group. "Ladies, gentleman. What can I do for you?"

August laughs slightly, shaking his head.

"We were just looking in your old annual." Sirius says, holding out the book to Keating.

Keating takes it, turning it over in his palms. A smile works it's way onto his weathered face, and he adjusts his glasses with one hand. "Oh my God. No, that's not me. Stanley "The Tool" Wilson. . ." He trails off, crouching on the ground as he scans the page.

"Ask him!" Malia mouths dramatically over Peter's shoulder.

"You ask him!" August mouths back.

Malia shoots him a look and August sighs, crouching beside Keating tentatively.

"Captain, what's the Dead Poets Society?" He asks.

"I doubt some of the present administration would look favourably upon that." Keating says in reply, skirting around a real answer.

August's brow furrows in curiosity. "Why? What was it?"

"Ladies, and gentleman, can you keep a secret?" Keating asks, looking to the rest of the group.

"We swear it." Malia promises.

She's the first of the others to crouch down, the rest following.

"The Dead Poets were dedicated to sucking the marrow out of life. That's a phrase from Thoreau that we'd invoke at the beginning of each meeting. You heard it in class this morning. You see we'd gather in the Room of Requirement, and take turns reading from Thoreau, Whitman, Shelley; the Muggle biggies. Even some of our own verse. And in the enchant of the moment we'd let poetry work its magic."

"You mean it was a bunch of guys sitting around reading poetry." Lily deadpans, unimpressed.

August pins her with withering look that she elects to ignore.

"No Miss Evans, it wasn't just "guys", we weren't a Greek organisation, we were romantics. We didn't just read poetry, we let it drip from our tongues like honey. Spirits soared, women swooned, and Gods were created, ladies and gentlemen, not a bad way to spend an evening, eh?" Keating explains, stroking a thumb over his photo.

Lily bits her lip, cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

"Thank you Mr Black for this trip down amnesia lane." Keating hands the book back to Sirius. "Burn that, especially my picture."

Keating rises to his feet, separating from the group of teens and once again continues his trek towards the Black Lake. Overture 1812 follows him like a lullaby, lulling to a soft, fading, melody as he begins to blend with the distant horizon.

The last warning bell rings and August rises to his feet, muttering. "Dead Poets Society. . ."

"What?" Peter asks.

"I say we go tonight." August decides.

The responses are immediate.

"Tonight?"

"Wait a minute. . ."

"Where even is this room he's talking about?" Lily questions. "Have you really thought about this, August? How would it even work?"

"It's no different to us all working together in the Library." August replies. "Just under different. . . parameters."

"You mean breaking curfew." Lily presses her lips together.

"You're the only one who's ever had an issue with breaking curfew, Evans." August's stare softs. "It could be fun, and it could help with the project."

Faintly, August can hear Professor McGonagall calling to the group. They begin moving towards the Castle as August looks to Malia for help.

"Come on, Lily, there's no harm." She says.

Lily sighs. "Fine. But it's your arse in detention if we're caught, not mine."

August grins brightly, holding out a hand. "Deal."

Lily shakes it firmly.

"Everyone else?" August inquires, turning to the rest of the group.

Mumbles of agreement sound from each person, and August's grin only grows. "This is the beginning of something beautiful."

authors note:
oh boy, is this a phat one. we finally have the society formed!! yay!! i really hope you all enjoyed and let me know your thoughts in the comments <3