CHAPTER NINE. . .
Aching For You

"If everybody minded their own business, the world would go around a great deal faster than it does."
Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

Anger bristles, burning in the pit of August's stomach as he stalks through the halls of Hogwarts-the starstruck nighttime falling agitatedly over the school and its students as early December sets over the school. As the weeks pass, and so did more Dead Poets Society meetings, August is quickly being ravaged by the realisation that the answer to his presentation is: there is not one singular book. The weather storms; cracking and thundering relentlessly against the stone of the castle. August ignores the stray splashes of rain that soak the bottom of his pants and whip against his face, sinking into the skin of his cheekbone with its relentlessly cold grip. The Winter wind holds a murderous rage, it works in tandem with the rain continuing to ware at the castle and August's flaming temper. He seethes, gritting his teeth, and holding the crumpled letter up to his face in a futile attempt to save his face from some of the rain. Malia is already tucked carefully into the corner of her favourite velvet couch with her sketchbook perched on her knees when he swings open the door. He tosses her the letter after squeezing the crumpled, wet paper into a ball.

"I'm going to kill them." August chokes out, chest constricted and empty of breath.

Malia surveys him with a knowing look and places her sketchbook on the coffee table before pulling the letter, eyes widening as she takes in the words taking up the pages.

"Wait, are they serious?" She asks, looking up, her expression tainted with anger. "They're seriously doing that?"

"They're always serious." August's voice is charged with loathing. He walks across the room and falls into the spot beside Malia. "It's just another disastrous part of being a family from the Sacred Twenty-Eight."

"But you're only seventeen." Malia says in disbelief. "How could they possible think this is on the forefront of your mind at the moment? You haven't even graduated, let alone thought about your future fucking marriage!"

August shrugs with a sigh. He props his elbows on his knees and shoves his head into his heads, pulling his fingers through his hair in an agitated yank. "It's just how it is. . ."

"Well, that's bullshit." Malia grumbles. Carefully, she pulls August's hand from his hair and links their fingers, squeezing tightly. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"It's more complicated than that." August says quietly, anger draining like water down an open sink. "I can't just say no."

"Why not?" Malia presses, treading carefully. "You are your own person."

"I am, here at Hogwarts." August explains. "When I am there, its like be the person that I'm meant to be or suffer the consequences. To say no, I would have to leave. And I can't leave Theo behind, she would be eaten by wolves without me."

Silence follows those words and hangs heavy in the air; the ghost of past mistakes and the weight of a family equivalent to a burden.

August sighs again. "If I just entertain them for one night, I can pretend until I turn eighteen, and then maybe. . . Theo and I can leave together, start fresh in London."

"That's a year of your life, August." Malia says, squeezing his hand again. "Are you sure you can last that long pretending to be someone else?"

He looks up to Malia, expression broken and fragmented. "I have to. . . There is no choice in the matter."

Their discussion is halted by the door opening again, slamming against the stone wall as thunder cracks aggressively before lightening strikes outside, lighting up James and Lily's faces in a stark white glow. Lily frowns, forehead furrowing in confusion, taking in the stressed expression contorting August's face; the rare, burning anger that flashes in Malia's eyes.

"What's happening?" Lily asks, slipping into the room as she pulls her soaking cloak off of her body. "Talk to me."

Malia and August look to each other, the latter pulling his hand from Malia's.

"Doesn't matter, we'll talk about it another time." August mutters. Malia shoots him a look which he elects to ignore, instead continuing. "Where are Sirius, Peter and Remus?"

"Remus and Peter are getting tonights food, but I'm not sure about Sirius." James says. "The sod disappeared after dinner and hasn't been seen since."

"We could just start without him." Lily suggests. "He won't be missing out on much. Who's turn is it anyway?"

"Mine," Malia replies. She pulls Alice's Adventure's in Wonderland from underneath her sketchbook and rises to stand in front of the fire. "May as well get on with it."

With curious eyes, Lily watches James finally moves into the room with Remus and Peter appearing behind him, and James takes seat beside Lily silently. He doesn't look to her, intently watching Malia fumble with the pages of her book as she finds the correct chapter where they had left off last time, excited to once again hear the book that his mother had read to him when he was a child.

Remus and Peter pile a batch of chocolate chip muffins onto the table. From his bag, Remus slings out a thermos of what August assumes is Hot Chocolate and seven mugs. August pulls a mug towards him, carefully pouring the hot liquid in and taking a sip. He pours another for Lily, and one for Malia. Lily's, he hands to her and he sets Malia's down on the side table next to the couch.

"Why is a children's book considered to be classic literature?" Lily asks, absentmindedly picking at a bit of lint on her mustard corduroy pants before taking a sip of her own drink.

Malia shrugs. "I chose it because it offered imagination compared to some of the other things that we've been reading. Sometimes, that's all a book is: imagination, and a break."

"That makes sense." Lily nods thoughtfully. "Like the stories my Dad used to tell when I was girl." She gestures for Malia to begin. "Go on then."

"For a minute or two she stood looking at the house, and wondering what to do next, when suddenly a footman in livery came running out of the wood-(she considered him to be a footman because he was in livery: otherwise, judging by his face only, she would have called him a fish)-and rapped loudly at the door with his knuckles. . ."

August allows himself to forget the letter that was crumpled in his hands, now resting shoved in between the cushions of the couch, as Malia reads in a relaxing voice. He leans his head against the armrest, observing Malia with hooded, tired eyes. Every now and then he floats back into reality, catching sections of sentences.

"Then they both bowed low, and their curls got entangled together." Malia reads, shuffling to the side so she can sit on the armrest and brush a hand through August's ruffled hair. "Alice laughed so much at this, that she had to run back into the wood for fear of their hearing her; and when she next peeped out the Fish-Footman was gone, and the other was sitting on the ground near the door, staring stupidly up into the sky."

Quietly, the door to the Room of Requirement opens and Sirius steps through the door. Malia pauses. Sirius holds it open for a moment, August watching curiously as he seems to speak before turning back to the room. Choking on a breath, he almost can't believe his eyes as Theodora steps into the room with a reserved smile.

"Theo?" August asks, sputtering slightly. Lily nudges him and he stands, striding across the room to his younger sister. "What are you doing here?"

They'd been spending more time together in the weeks since his Quidditch accident, but he is still pleasantly surprised to see his sister. Theodora's smile brightens, and she moves forward to wrap her arms around August's waist. He returns it with a grin, one hand cupping the back of her head and the other winding around her shoulders.

"Sirius invited me." She mumbles into August's chest. "Thought it would be nice to spend some quality Darlington-sibling time together, with all of your friends of course."

"We're excited to have you, Gremlin." Malia says affectionately as August and Theo walk over. She ruffles Theodora's hair who sticks out her tongue at the blonde.

August mouths a "thank you" in Sirius' direction, he returns it with a smile. Quiet falls over the room once again, Theodora tucking herself into her brothers side and Malia begins reading again.

"Alice went timidly up to the door, and knocked. . ."

They'd all fallen into a comfortable silence as the storm outside has subsided to a steady stream of pattering rain that landed softly against the two windows created by the Room of Requirement. The fire, thriving off the last few pieces of wood, crackles and fills the silence between pockets of Malia's reading and her taking sips of her Hot Chocolate as she comes to a conclusion. It's nearly 1am when Malia finally closes the book, and looks to a peacefully sleeping Theodora still folded into her brother's side. Sirius shifts, frowning slightly at the sound of crinkling parchment beneath him. He pulls the parchment from underneath him and places it on the table without much thought before taking a second look, realising there's an invitation tucked within it.

"What's that?" He asks August quietly, casting him a look as he gestures to the parchment.

August doesn't answer. Instead, he looks between the parchment and Sirius for a moment before moving his gaze to Theodora.

"Hey Lily," he murmurs. "Can you take Theo back to her dorm with Lia and James?"

Lily nods, biting her lip. She stands, tugging James to her feet as Malia places her book back into it's place on the shelf. Kneeling in front of Theodora, Lily shakes her lightly, careful not to be too forceful when waking the young girl. Theodora shifts, a small snore slipping past her lips as she moves and her eyelashes flutter. Her arms stretch over August's chest, fists clenching together, and her eyes finally open, though still riddled with sleep and unusually hooded.

"Gus?" She rasps sleepily.

Nobody comments on the nickname and August visibly softens at his sister's tired voice.

"I'm here." He says gently. "Lily, Lia and James are going to take you back to your dorm and make sure you get there safe, okay?"

"Okay." Theodora says. She yawns, stretching her arms and rises to her feet. Before hugging August goodbye, she rubs her eyes, ridding them of the sleep crusting at her inner corners. "Night."

"Night, Gremlin." August replies affectionately, ruffling her hair.

He watches her leave the room intently with Lily, Malia and James following close behind with the Marauders Map in hand. Remus nods to Sirius before him and Peter take their leave, closing the door quietly behind them, and leaving Sirius and August in the Room of Requirement alone. Running a hand through his hair, August rises and walks quietly towards the record player sitting on the table across the room. He flicks his wand and the soft melody of Can't Help Falling in Love emitting from the speakers.

"You haven't got yours yet?" August questions with a raised eyebrow, nodding to the parchment on the table. "It's the annual invite to the Darlington Christmas Ball. They send me one each year to remind me of my 'duties'. Except, this year there was a letter attached."

"My parents must be holding onto ours." Sirius replies. He leans his elbows against his knees. "What did the letter say?"

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "They want me to start searching for marriage prospects."

Sirius chokes on a breath.

"What, aren't your parents trying to marry off you too?" August jokes lightly. "You must be either extremely boring or shite husband material if they haven't sold off your pretty arse already."

The joke doesn't land; the attempt at humour encased by the numbness settling within his chest. August gives Sirius a moment to breathe, clasping his hands together behind his back as he collapses onto the couch beside him.

"I just need to pretend for one night, and then I can be done." August says into the quiet. "It's just one night."

Sirius turns his burning gaze on August, linking their hands together. August feels warm-a sensation moving from their intertwined fingers, up his arm and straight into his constricting chest. August Darlington is an accumulation of hard kisses, bruised knuckles and burning liquor. He is not used to feeling warm, but when the sensation tickles his chest, he can't help but welcome it. August has never been sugar, spice and everything nice in the world in their purest form-he's Gryffindor's strongest concoction of anger flaring in roaring flames, impulsivity and 24 karat gold, all melted down and forged into the strong form of six-feet's worth of tan corded Quidditch muscle, mussed chocolate hair and mischief-riddled eyes. Simply, he knows he's broken, and he's healing. Slowly.

But still, August takes Sirius' breath away when he looks up and finally speaks into the static silence. "You and I both know that it isn't going to be one night." He chooses the words deliberately. "You can feed that crap to Lily or Malia because they don't know any better, but I do. Don't try and spoon feed me."

"Sirius-"

"Don't." Sirius interrupts. "I said don't feed me that bullshit."

August stills. "I'm not."

"You are." Sirius rebukes. "You're trying to and I don't appreciate it."

"You don't have to believe me." August repeats Sirius' own words back at him. "That isn't a requirement in my life, I don't have anything to prove to you."

"But I know that face." Sirius takes the pause before gesturing to the letter on the table. "I know those words; I know those expectations and I know the pressure they weigh on your shoulders."

"Unfortunately, we don't get to decide that." August says quietly. "Fate decides for us."

"Fate sucks." Sirius replies bitterly.

"Yeah," August chuckles, chest still constricted. "Fate sucks."

☾☾☾

August is confused when he walks into the Transfiguration Courtyard the next morning and Professor Keating has their Muggle Studies crowding the edges as he stands in front. He's greeted with a breeze that blows through the Courtyard, bringing the crisp smell of the Highlands into the school; August breathes in deeply from the stone courtyard's entrance, welcoming the comforting scent. He adjusts his grip on his school books, moving towards the stone bench where Malia already sits waiting for him with her blonde head bent over a blue-covered book. Lily sits beside her, forehead pinched and hands clasped together. She looks up as August approaches, and smiles. He returns it before looking to Professor Keating.

"Good morning, Mr Darlington." Professor Keating greets. "Any particular reason why you were late?"

"I got lost." August jokes, not offering another explantation. The truth is that he didn't sleep last night, dreams never came to him and his eyes never closed. He laid there, staring at the ceiling until finally the sun rose, and so did he. But sometimes, the truth is hard to grasp and the words are choked in your throat, and you choose the easier option: to lie.

"Perhaps, you should invest in a map." Professor Keating recognises the tightness in his voice, but says nothing. "Or a compass."

August nods with a short laugh and takes his place between Lily and Malia, who pats his shoulder, letting her book drop back into her bag. Professor Keating waves his wand and the record player sitting on the bench besides them ceases playing Pink Floyd.

"Right, let the class begin." Professor Keating claps. He points to Sirius, James and Remus. "You three, I want you to walk in a circle around the Courtyard."

The three Marauders look to each other; Remus shrugs before standing; Sirius follows without hesitation with James not far behind. And they begin walking. Slowly, at first, out of sync with each other. Sirius' school shoes hit the pavement with the beat, Remus a fraction behind him, and James can't hit the beat to save himself, tripping over his laces slightly as he passes Lily. August stifles a laugh, and Lily flattens him with a glare.

"No grades at stake, gentlemen. Just take a stroll." Professor Keating voices as the three boys find their rhythm together. He begins to clap as their shoes pound against the pavement and August joins him with a smile. "There it is."

"I don't know but I've been told." He sings in time with the beat.

"I don't know but I've been told." The class repeats back to him.

Professor Keating smiles. "Doing poetry is old."

"Doing poetry is old." August beams as he sings; the weight from yesterday falling from his chest for a moment.

"Left, left, left-right-left." Professor Keating falls in line with Remus, marching by his side as he begins to imitate a soldiers walk. "Left, left, left-right-left. Left. Halt!"

They all come to a sudden stop.

"Thank you, gentlemen." Professor Keating surveys the class, hands slipping into his pockets. "If you noticed, everyone started off with their own stride, their own pace." He begins pacing the line of students "Mr Potter taking his time. He knew he'd get there one day. Mr Lupin, you could see him thinking "Is this right? It might be right. It might be right. I know that. Maybe not. I don't know." Mr Black, drive by a deeper force."

"Yes, we know that." Professor Keating continues as a chuckle ripples throughout the class. "All right. Now, I didn't bring them up here to ridicule them. I brought them up here to illustrate the point of conformity: the difficult in maintaining your own beliefs in the face of others."

August's breath hitches, and his grip on his schoolbag tightens. The weight returns with a vengeance. Lily notices the whitening of his knuckles, trailing a finger over his thigh until it reaches his fingers, and she tightens her own grip around his hand. August uses her as anchor, tying, chaining him to the Earth and it's reality as his tether slowly fades with each continuing word, stab to his web of lies and moment of performative fake happy.

"Now, those of you; I see the look in your eyes like, "I would've walked differently." Well, ask yourselves why you were clapping." Professor Keating continues. "But you must trust that beliefs are unique, your own, even though others may think them odd or unpopular, even thought the herd may go, "That's bad." Robert Frost said, "Two roads diverged in a wood and I, I took the one less travelled by, and that has made all the difference.""

Chest constricting, August sucks in a deep breath and Lily's grip tightens. His own road is diverging; one path dark and twisted, riddled with hubris expectation; the other is a breath of fresh air, golden and filled to the brim with sunlight. But responsibility doesn't allow him to pick that road.

"Now, I want you to find your own walk right now. Your own way of striding, pacing. Any direction. Anything you want. Whether it's proud, whether it's silly, anything." Professor Keating gestures to the Courtyard. "Ladies and gentlemen, the courtyard is yours."

August can't bring himself to move; to peel himself from his place from the stone bench. Lily lets go of his hand, and stands tentatively as Malia does. She doesn't walk, or move away from the bench. Instead, Lily holds out her hand for him to grip again. August doesn't reach out, and he looks to his feet. He can feel the tether pulling away; pulling, pulling and pulling until his chest tightens again and he can't breath. Without him noticing, his vision blurs and shoes appear in front of his own. They're fuzzy, but they're there. A hand reaches out, and heat radiates from it's skin. His head tips upwards; August's eyes hazel eyes meeting Sirius' storming grey ones.

"August, look at me." Sirius' voice breaks through the white noise that crackles in his ears. "Do you need to leave? Yes or no?"

"Yes." August chokes out.

"Can I touch you?" Sirius asks. "Yes or no?"

August can't bring himself to speak, so he nods, and Sirius takes that as enough. Carefully, he nudges Lily and Malia away from August's trembling form and places his hands underneath August's arms, hoisting him to his feet to pull him away from the Courtyard. August doesn't remember stumbling into the Marauder's dorm because Sirius didn't want to bother August's dorm mates with Sirius at his side. Or how they ended up lying in Sirius' bed, eyes to the ceiling as his body finally stops it's trembling, the blurring of his vision ceases and he can breath again because Sirius' hand is in his and there's nothing in the world that could crush him in this room; in this bed with the curtains drawn and the world far away.

There are times that Sirius Black forgets how young they really are, but he's reminded by the leftover thickness in August's voice when he finally speaks, eyebrows pinched together and his usually bright eyes narrowed. Sirius eyes the anxiety in his taut position, fingers gripping the sheets so tightly that his knuckles are white, and the motley of puckered, pink scars stretch over the bone.

"What's your favourite story?" August asks, voice cracking.

"My Aunt used to tell me this one, about a boy and constellations." Sirius replies quietly.

"Tell me it." August says.

And so, Sirius does. For hours he spins the tale of a boy who climbed to the top of a mountain with his wand in hand to see if he can catch a star, and August as interested as he is tired, dozes nestled into Sirius' side. When he awakens that evening with Sirius asleep next to him and a warmth in his chest that he hasn't felt in weeks, August is left aching.