When James woke up the next morning, his head was pounding. It was like he had been beaten in the head with a hammer repeatedly. That was the first thing he noticed, and the next thing he noticed was Lily. She was lying on the floor, completely naked.

"Shit," James mouthed, a little louder than he had expected.

Lily was stirring on the floor, and with the sound of James' voice, she woke up. She instantly reached for her head, which, like James', was pounding. She rolled over onto her back, looked up and saw James staring at her with his mouth ajar. Oh, and he was still naked.

"Shit," Lily concluded, just like James had. She looked around the room, which was a mess. Papers were scattered everywhere, an empty bottle of whiskey was on the floor, and everything that was on her desk was now on the floor.

"Good morning," James pitched.

"It would be a good morning if your ass wasn't in my face."

"It's a good ass."

James reached for a blanket that was behind the couch. He still saw no signs of his clothes. He couldn't remember anything, and that was probably for the best. He wrapped the small blue blanket around his waist in an attempt to regain the self-respect he had rapidly lost.

James opened the door and then slammed it just as fast. He cursed in a language that Lily recognized as Spanish.

"What is it?" she questioned.

"There are people out there already!"

Lily groaned as she sat up. She covered her chest with her hands. "Throw me a blanket," she ordered, returning to her normal self.

"I could only find this one," James said as he continued to search the room for his clothes.

Lily ripped the blanket from his waist, and he instinctively reached to cover himself.

"Give that back!" he hissed.

"You don't have much to cover anyway," she said with a smirk. "Plus, this is my blanket."

Thankfully, James found his clothes, yet it seemed like each item was in a different spot. He got dressed, facing away from Lily, and did his best to flatten his hair. He knew he looked like a mess, and if he was being honest, he felt like a mess too.

He reached for the door, and the cold brass sent a chill down his spine.

"Do you wanna talk about last night?" James asked, turning towards Lily.

"Why? It was a mistake - a drunk one at that. It won't change anything," she said, trying to shake the wrinkles out of the blouse she wore yesterday.

"Yeah; totally, I just wanted to make sure you understood that too," James said, feigning a smile.

He didn't understand. He didn't understand at all. He made his way out of her office, staring only at the ground as he walked to the closest restroom, and once he arrived, he locked the door behind him.

He turned on the sink, and splashed some water in his face to help wake up.

James stared at his reflection in the mirror, the cold water running through his fingers. The events of last night played over and over in his mind like a broken record, showing up in flashes. He couldn't shake the feeling of confusion mixed with regret. Lily's words echoed in his head - it was a mistake. Was everything he did just that? A mistake?

He closed his eyes as memories he wished he could forget forced their way into his mind. He saw Lily's face, close and filled with lust. He remembered the warmth of her skin against his, the taste of whiskey on her lips, and the intensity of it all. He recalled lifting her onto her desk, and the way her soft giggles seemed to enchant him like a siren's medley. The way his fingers seemed to move on their own as he unbuttoned her blouse. The softness of her breasts, and her cries of pleasure.

He remembered the way her body seemed to move perfectly in rhythm with his. The way his hands fit perfectly around her hips. The softness of her skin, and the way, just with a touch, her breath would catch in her throat.

James closed his eyes, trying to block out the images that were overwhelming him, but they persisted. Each detail etched its way into his mind like a tattoo. The way her body responded to his touch, the way she moaned his name in ecstasy.

He splashed more water into his face. He needed to forget, but that was far easier said than done. When he finally left the restroom, he felt as if he had left a piece of himself behind - a piece he wouldn't be able to find again.

~~~

By the time Regulus had made it out of the bar, the pieces of Barty Crouch Jr.'s past were starting to fit together in his mind. Barty had been an old school friend, a rebellious soul who had once walked the fine line between his father's expectations and his own desires. Regulus remembered the posh gathering where they had met; they were both sons of influential men with dark shadows in their histories.

But like Regulus, Barty had grown tired of his father's control over his life, and instead of a legitimate business, Barty ventured into crime. It was during this period that he crossed paths with the Death Eaters. Barty's skills in toxicology, honed during his college years before he dropped out, had made him invaluable to them. He supplied them with chemicals to brew deadly concoctions, hidden under the guise of his nightclub.

But as time passed, Barty had grown weary of the constant fear - the danger that lurked in the shadows of his own making. He had transformed his nightclub into a typical club - one that only sold regular alcohol. Yet Regulus knew better than to trust appearances. If Barty was involved with the Death Eaters once, traces of that darkness were sure to linger. That's why he called him after all, but he knew Barty wouldn't reveal any identities. Not only was it dangerous to Regulus, but if Barty shared that kind of secret, he could lose his life too.

At some point, Regulus had reached his hotel room, but he didn't stop in front of his own door. Instead, he continued down to the next room, the one that James was staying in, and knocked on the door. When there was no response, he pulled the room key that James had given him earlier in the week from his wallet.

Regulus checked his watch, and the time read 1:17 a.m. Why wasn't James in his room at that hour? Regulus reached for his phone to send James a message, letting him know that he was waiting for him.

After fifteen minutes of waiting, it seemed Regulus' exhaustion was finally catching up with him, and the comfort of James' bed seemed to be welcoming him. Regulus thought James' bed seemed more comfortable than his, but he couldn't tell if that was fact or fiction caused by his sleepiness. He curled up on top of the blankets, and drifted off to sleep in the bed that belonged to his partner.

James never saw Regulus' message, for he had been preoccupied with Lily. It wasn't until he walked into the room himself and went to lie down on the bed that he noticed Regulus, whose sleep seemed to be so deep that James' footsteps didn't bother him.

James sat on the bed and watched Regulus sleep. One of his long, dark curls gently swayed as he breathed in and out. James knew he had to be exhausted; he'd barely left his room, and James could hear him walking and typing in the early morning hours. He couldn't wake him up, so he simply climbed in bed with him; he didn't even bother placing a pillow in between them before he dozed off too.

Regulus woke up first, but the first thing he noticed was the smell. The scent of whiskey burned his nostrils. Then he realized the scent was coming from James, and that James was lying right next to him, asleep. Regulus carefully shifted, trying not to wake him, but his efforts were in vain. James reached out and grabbed Regulus' wrist. His hand was warm but gentle.

"Where ya going?" James mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

"Just.. needed some air," Regulus replied softly, trying to keep his voice steady. He looked down at James, whose eyes were barely open, and still heavy with sleep. The sight of him so vulnerable tugged at something deep inside Regulus, but he couldn't dwell on it now.

James blinked slowly, trying to focus. "You okay?" he asked, his concern evident even through the haze of alcohol and sleep.

Regulus nodded, even though he knew James couldn't see it well in the dim light.

James sat up slowly, and immediately reached for his head; Regulus assumed he was having quite the hangover.

"Rough night at the office?" Regulus inquired, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

James yawned, finally getting up from the bed and stretching. "You could say that."

"Or a night getting rough at the office?" Regulus asked, his tone demeaning as he stared at James.

James winced at the implication, running a hand through his messy hair. "It's not what you think, Regulus," he started, his voice defensive.

Regulus folded his arms across his chest. "Oh really? Because from where I'm standing, it looks exactly like that. Lily, I presume."

James sighed, looking away. "Look, we were drunk. It didn't mean anything."

"Bullshit, James. It doesn't take a profiler to tell you're in love with her. I don't know the history, but there is something there. How could you do that? Are you stupid? If she doesn't want you sober, that's a sign."

James' shoulders sagged under the weight of Regulus' words. He knew they were true, but hearing them out loud made it worse. "You don't understand, Regulus. It's complicated. Lily and I have a lot of history. It's not as simple as you think."

Regulus' eyes narrowed. "You're right, I don't understand. What I do understand is that we're in the middle of a dangerous investigation, and you're screwing your exes. You need to get your head out of your ass and focus."

James clenched his fists, frustration boiling over. "Mind your own damn business, Black," he hissed.

Regulus was taken aback. James never called him by his last name. Never. "It's my business when her people are killing one another! This case isn't a joke, James; it's dangerous."

James' anger flared. "You think I don't know that? I'm doing my best here, Regulus, just because I slipped up once-"

Regulus cut him off. "Once? James, this isn't just a slip-up. It's the beginning of a pattern. And in this line of work, patterns get people killed."

"Regulus," James warned, his anger starting to get the best of him. "You don't get to lecture me on mistakes."

"Don't turn this on me; unlike you, I've actually been working the last week."

"Whatever, Regulus," James huffed, sitting back down on his bed, and falling backward onto it. He didn't have the energy to argue. "What was your text from last night about, anyway?"

"I know who killed Marlene."

James blinked, and immediately sat up. "You do? Why didn't you say so?"

Regulus frowned and ran a hand through his hair to aid in placing his thoughts into words. "It's more difficult than that. I can't just 'say so' because it was a group that killed her; pinning the tail on the exact one is going to take more time."

James looked confused. "You're not making any sense, Reggie."

"You remember that anarchist group that made the news a few years ago? We haven't seen much of them since. The Death Eaters?"

"Yeah, I remember them. Why?"

"It's them, and apparently they've been at this for a while - killing, I mean."

"And you have proof?"

Regulus nodded slowly. "I've been following a trail, connecting the dots. Marlene was targeted because she was getting too close to something big. She wasn't just a random victim."

"So, what's the plan then?"

Regulus bit his lip before responding. "You see, that's the issue. There's something else I haven't figured out. The majority of homicides have some sort of marking either at the crime scene or on the victim. It's an odd shape," Regulus said, digging into his pocket and retrieving a crumpled piece of paper.

He unfolded it carefully, revealing a poorly drawn sketch of a symbol - a serpent entwined with a skeleton resting on its tail. He handed it to James, who studied it intently.

James furrowed his brow, "This seems familiar, like I've seen it somewhere before. I just can't place it."

Regulus nodded, his expression serious. "I've been calling it 'The Dark Mark.' It's a symbol used to mark every single one of their kills. It's a signature."

"I don't remember seeing this at Marlene's house."

"That's because it wasn't there, but you have to trust me. It was them who killed her. We just have to figure out who in the Chicago Police Department is a Death Eater."

"You say that like you don't believe we can do it," James analyzed.

Regulus never boasted, and he was always typically honest about his abilities as a profiler, but this case was different. He truly wasn't sure if he was going to be able to point out a killer amongst heroes, and what if he was wrong? He could ruin someone's life. Not to mention, he hadn't even begun to explore the possibility that there was more than one Death Eater. If he underestimated the number in the precinct before he and James made their move, they'd likely both end up dead.

"There's a lot of things we still have to work out. For instance, who we can trust, or the number of Death Eaters here. If we make a move too early, we could both end up dead."

"Ye of little faith, Regulus," James joked, reaching for the gun that sat on his nightstand. "We have an advantage. We know about them, but they have no clue about us."

~~~

As James and Regulus began to dive deeper into the secrets of the Death Eaters, they invited Sirius to join them. At first, Sirius was widely confused when he received a text message asking him to check Marlene's body for a tattoo. That wasn't the oddest part though, the true thing that stuck out was the fact that Regulus told him to keep it a secret so that no one could know what Sirius was looking into.

Perplexed but intrigued, Sirius made his way to the morgue, where Marlene's body was being held. He paused in front of the door, staring at the sign wearily before entering; something about morgues always seemed to bother him. He flashed his badge to gain access, his mind racing with questions about why they were investigating Marlene's body again. As he approached the cold, sterile room where her body lay, he had a striking feeling that he was being watched.

The only person in the room was an elderly medical examiner. She greeted Sirius kindly, "Mr. Black, what brings you here today?"

"Just following up on something. Mind if I take another look at Marlene's body?" Sirius said with a forced casual smile.

The medical examiner hesitated, her demeanor shifting slightly, "I was fixing to turn the body over to the family, but I suppose I can allow it if you're quick."

Sirius nodded, grateful for the permission. He strode purposefully toward the steel table where Marlene lay, covered with a white sheet. The room felt colder than usual, and the air was thick with the smell of disinfectant and formaldehyde. He pulled back the sheet with a mix of apprehension and distaste, revealing Marlene's still form.

The initial medical report had found nothing out of the ordinary, so Sirius couldn't grasp why Regulus had asked him to go back, but then he saw something that wasn't there before. Just about her left breast was the faint indention of something sharp; there was a shallow cut and no blood, so he knew it was fresh.

"Excuse me?" Sirius asked, gaining the attention of the examiner, who had walked to the window to give him some privacy.

The small, frail woman looked up from the window and turned her focus to Sirius. "Yes, dear?"

"Pardon my inquiry, but did you accidentally cut the skin?" Sirius asked, his fingers interlocked underneath the table. He felt a twinge of guilt for second-guessing the poor woman's skill level.

She narrowed her eyes at Sirius before crossing the room and gently nudging him out of the way. The examiner lifted up a pair of glasses that loosely hung on a cord around her neck. The room was silent except for the snap of rubber gloves clicking against her boney wrist as she observed the body.

"This can't be possible; it wasn't here a few days ago, and this room is protected with a security system,"she mumbled softly. "What did you do, boy?" she asked, turning towards Sirius, her tone of voice completely shifting.

"Nothing; I thought it was strange, just as you did," Sirius said, pushing past her and touching the body with his bare hands.

The medical examiner's jaw seemed to drop to the floor, and Sirius knew why. He was breaking protocol, but he didn't care. He needed to test something.

"I presume you know the rules of post-mortem injuries," Sirius began. The skin directly surrounding the injury was colder than the rest of the body; Sirius remembered a seminar from the university about algor mortis, the phase of decomposition that focuses on cooling.

The examiner nodded, "Yes, I know all the phases of decomposition, but how is that relevant to you touching the skin?"

"There's the beginning of yellow discoloration," Sirius pointed as he shifted the overhead light over to the left side of Marlene's body. "It's the beginning of livor mortis; the blood has been pooling here. It's a post-mortem injury!"

"And?" The examiner pressed with narrowed eyes. "You're not proving your innocence?"

"There's something else," Sirius said, his voice firm.

The medical examiner frowned, but her eyes showed she was clearly intrigued, despite her frustration. "Go on."

Sirius leaned in closer, his fingers brushing against the cut on Marlene's skin. "This cut... it wasn't here before; you know that as well as I do. The difference in temperature suggests it was made after death, but not immediately. It's as if it were an identifying mark, some kind of MO."

The examiner's eyes widened. "Marked? But that would mean..."

"Yes," Sirius interrupted. "Someone had access to this room after she died. Someone who knew exactly how to get in."

"You think it was someone here? That's not possible! Only a few people have access to the keycards that open this room."

"You have to have some system other than the keycards. Don't you have a paper log or something?" Sirius inquired.

"Of course! I would never fully rely on technology," the examiner said as she walked to a clipboard that hung on a nail by the door. It was full of signatures, times, and dates. "You'll find everything you need to know about entries on this list."

"I have a feeling the person we are looking for didn't sign their name."

"How do you plan on catching them then?"

Sirius gave a small, confident smile. "Well, dear, you just so happen to be in the presence of the best technical analyst the FBI has ever seen."

"Well, I wish you the best of luck, Mr. Black. I best be on my way and record this new discovery."

"Wait! You can't tell anyone what we've found!" Sirius said, stepping in front of her to block her path.

The examiner looked taken aback. "Why not? You realize this is crucial information! It needs to be reported to the chief right away!"

"Someone in this precinct is a killer; if you share what you've learned today with anyone, you could be the next target. And, if whoever did this figures out we're onto them, they'll cover their tracks, and we'll lose any chance we have of catching them," Sirius explained passionately, "I just need you to throw me a bone. Give me a little time to figure this out; a little trust if you will."

The examiner hesitated, her eyes searching Sirius' face for sincerity. After what seemed like an eternity, she nodded. "Alright. I won't say a word. But you better catch whoever did this."

"We will," Sirius promised. "Thank you,... Miss?"

"Pomfrey. Poppy Pomfrey."

Sirius nodded as Poppy left the room; he didn't move an inch until the door clicked, letting him know it was once again locked, and that he was secured in solitude. The room felt eerily quiet, the only sound being the faint hum of the overhead lights.

Sirius pulled out his phone, its screen glowing softly in the dim light. His fingers moved deftly over the screen, tapping and swiping with practiced ease as he began to hack into the precinct's security system. He started by accessing the network, then he carefully bypassed the precinct's multiple layers of encryption. The firewalls were formidable, but Sirius had faced tougher challenges.

He pulled out a small circle pad from his pocket, and connected it to his phone. It was a portable hotspot; it boosted his signal and allowed him to interact with the precinct's internal servers directly. Lines of code began to blur as they passed rapidly across the screen. Sirius' eyes flicked back and forth, scanning for the digital log entries. The process required his full attention; every second counts in a high-stakes game.

He navigated through a maze of security protocols, his mind working in overdrive to keep up with the ever-changing digital landscape. A firewall popped up, but he quickly countered it with a series of commands, bypassing it in seconds.

Finally, he accessed the log files. His eyes darted between the digital list and the paper list as he dragged his fingers down it.

Suddenly, he stopped. The digital log showed an abnormal access at an odd hour, one that didn't match any name on the paper log.

Sirius smiled grimly, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and pride. He had a lead, and now it was his turn to follow it. The hunt was on.

He slipped his phone and hotspot back into his pocket, and pushed the door to the room open with ease. He heard the sound of someone moving in the hallway. Instinctively, he lowered his hand to the inside pocket of his jacket - the place where he kept his gun.

"Woah, easy there," a voice called out, smooth and casual. Sirius squinted in the dim light of the hallway, and saw a man leaning against the wall, his hands raised in a mock surrender.

"Who are you?" Sirius demanded, his voice low and authoritative. His hand still hovering over the grip of his gun.

"Remus Lupin," the man replied, lowering his hands slowly. "Journalist extraordinaire. I was just, uh, in the neighborhood when I stumbled into this hallway. I think I'm lost."

"Right," Sirius said, not lowering his guard. "Just in the neighborhood of a precinct? In the middle of the night? You expect me to buy that?"

Remus shrugged, a charming smile playing on his lips. "A guy's got to get his story, doesn't he? And something tells me you've got one hell of a story." He titled his head, his gaze lingering on Sirius' sharp features. Even in the darkened hallway, Remus could see Sirius grey eyes and jarring jawline. "But I bet you hear that all the time, don't you?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the sudden shift to flirting. "You're barking up the wrong tree if you think a little bit of sweet talk is going to get you anywhere, Mr. Lupin."

"Who said anything about just a little bit?" Remus replied, stepping a little closer, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Maybe I just find you interesting. Dangerous. I like a bit of danger. Journalists live for the thrill, you know."

Sirius smirked, deciding to play along. "Is that so? Well, you should know that flirting with me can be quite hazardous."

Remus blinked, momentarily thrown; he didn't have a plan for this. "I think I can handle a little hazard. Question is, can you?"

Sirius chuckled. It was a soft, rich sound that made Remus' pulse quicken. "Oh, I can handle much more than that. But let's cut to the chase. What exactly do you want, Lupin?"

Remus swallowed, feeling a flush rise to his cheeks despite himself trying to act cool. "I want in on the story. I think I can help you. And maybe we can help each other."

Sirius stepped forward another step, closing all the space between them. He wasn't much taller than Remus, maybe a few inches, but what he didn't have in height he made up for in pure confidence. "Help each other? And what makes you think I'd want your help?"

Remus' eyes flickered with uncertainty for a moment before he found his resolve. "Because I think you're smart enough to know when someone can be an asset. And because," he hesitated, his voice dropping to a near whisper, only loud enough for them to hear, "I think you're just as curious about me as I am about you."

Sirius stared at him for a moment, his eyes scanning Remus' face for truth. Then he smiled, a slow, knowing smile. "Alright. Mr. Lupin. You've got yourself a deal."

The two were so close together that Sirius could see a pen sticking out of the front pocket on Remus' vest. He quickly picked it up, removed the cap, and began to write his phone number on Remus' arm. Remus shivered as the cool ink touched his skin.

"Now," Sirius said, placing the cap on the pen and the pen back in Remus' pocket, "get out of here before someone else stumbles upon you, someone far less kind than I."

Remus didn't speak; he was far too flustered. He nodded once before hastily taking off down the hallway. Sirius watched him go, a hint of amusement in his eyes. There was something different about that Remus guy.

~~~

Regulus was starting to worry. He had texted his brother over eight hours ago, and hadn't heard anything from him since; this was unusual for Sirius. He was always full of snarky remarks and enough sarcasm to drown you. The emptiness of the room was starting to get to Regulus, so he was continuously checking his phone every few minutes to see if there was a response from his brother.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and Regulus' heart seemed to jump. Sirius was back! Regulus leapt up and hurried to the door, a wave of relief rolling over him, but when he opened it, it wasn't Sirius.

"Oh," he said disappointedly.

"Ow!" James chuckled, stepping past Regulus and walking over to his bed. "Nice to see you too."
"Don't take it personally, James. I've been waiting on a response from Sirius for hours, and he's been radio silent."

James waved a hand dismissively as he fell backwards onto Regulus' bed, "Knowing Sirius, he's probably off doing something reckless, or doing someone, for that matter."

James had a point. While it wasn't unusual for Sirius to sneak off while they were in a new city, it was unusual for him to not at least tell Regulus first.

"James," Regulus began before stopping to calm his anxiety, "I asked Sirius to look into something connected to the Death Eaters. What if something happened?"

"It'll be fine. It always is; just trust me," James said sincerely. "Now, let's go over that list you've put together, the possible suspects."

Regulus turned back towards his scattered desk and sifted through a few different piles of paper before lifting up one small notebook paper with a list of names written in dark black ink.

"You have to promise to be objective. Remember, at this point, anyone could be considered a traitor," Regulus warned, slightly leaning back on his chair.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," James replied with a yawn.

As Regulus began to read names off his list, James zoned out. The names meant nothing to him, and the case seemed deprived of any solid evidence. Then, unexpectedly, Regulus named someone that James recognized.

"Peter Pettigrew? It's not him, Regulus. I've known him for ages; Pete couldn't hurt a fly," James said as he sat up.

Regulus looked at James skeptically. "I understand your loyalty, but you know I can't rule a suspect out on your word alone."

"I know, but what evidence do you have against Peter?"

"Do you remember my preliminary profile?"

"Vaguely," James admitted.

Regulus continued earnestly, gesturing with his hands - a habit he couldn't shake. "Peter ticks every box. He's narcissistic, has zero respect for women, and he's always tracking our investigation. He's volunteered to help repeatedly. If he's guilty, he's been probing us to find out what we know."

"Or," James said, clearing his throat, "he's simply doing his job. He's got just as much pressure as we do. It was one of his own!"

Regulus sighed, his frustration evident as he gently massaged his temple. "James, just think about it. He's trying to stay one step ahead of us, and that can't just be a coincidence."

Right as James was fixing to counter Regulus' point, there was a knock on the door. Regulus immediately jumped up to answer it. James had to bite his tongue; he wasn't ready to let this argument go.

"Sirius! Where the hell have you been?" Regulus demanded as he invited his older brother in.

Sirius was drenched from head to toe. His long and typically luscious black hair clung to his face in wet strands, despite the raincoat he was wearing. He shook the jacket off a few times before hanging the sodden coat on a rack by the door.

Regulus could tell that Sirius had found something out; there was a curious glint in his eyes. "Well, what did you find?"

"Terrible hospitality, Reggie," Sirius quipped, flashing a wry grin. "You're supposed to offer me a drink, and maybe a towel."

Regulus rolled his eyes, "You'll get your drink after you give us the information."

Sirius crossed the room, and assumed the seat that Regulus had previously occupied. He crossed his legs before he began to speak, "You were right; someone had broken into the morgue. They did a pretty good job covering their tracks and all, but you happen to be looking at the world's best hacker," Sirius mused.

"Was it Peter?" James asked.

"That detective? No," Sirius waved dismissively.

A wave of relief washed over James as he collapsed back onto the bed behind him.

Regulus, on the other hand, was anything but relieved; his only lead was gone. "Who was it?" Regulus asked, jumping up from his seat on the bed by a sprawled James, and crossing back over to his desk, where Sirius sat.

"That's what got me. It's a nobody. A janitor by the name of Tiberius Nott."

"I think it's time we pay Mr. Nott a visit then," James said as he began to gather his things, specifically his gun, which he immediately secured on his belt.

Regulus and Sirius followed suit, but something about this didn't make sense to Regulus. This Tiberus fellow didn't fit the profile at all, and his profiles were never wrong. At least, they had never been before.

"Can't this wait til morning?" Regulus inquired unsurely.

"Why? Is this about your profile? It's okay, Regulus; everyone makes mistakes sometimes," James offered as he tried to usher both men out the door.

Regulus didn't make mistakes, and he was never wrong.