Sirius Black had been teasing her since age eleven. And since age 11, Caitlin Jackson hated Sirius Black. She longed to tease him back. But what is there to tease Sirius Black about? His perfect body or his gorgeous hair? His amazing friends? His beautiful girlfriends? Or even his somehow almost perfect grades? He was simply perfect. So Caitlin was left with another form of retaliation. At age thirteen, she broke his nose. And that was the beginning of Sirius's love for her.
So, Sirius did what most thirteen-year-old boys with a crush do. He asked her to go to Hogsmeade with him. Sirius, being the naïve boy we all know and love, did not seem to realize that girls who break your nose one week will not be very likely to go out with you the next weekend. He was left alone, rejected for the first time in his life. Luckily, though, Sirius had a back-up plan. That plan was the beginning of the ultimate game. The game of love.
Sirius remembered each of his girlfriends by something Caitlin had said to him while he was with each one. He most particularly remembered Tamara Jordan, a pretty girl with dark hair. He remembered her, because she could not have been more different from Caitlin. Caitlin had blonde hair that fell slightly below her shoulders, and eyes the color of milk chocolate. Her tiny frame was easily recognized. But no one knew her more than Sirius knew her. He still remembered what she had said that day, word for word. During the Tamara Period (age sixteen), Caitlin had said to him, "You know, I hate you. Do you want to know why? Because of the stupid game you play. Breaking hearts isn't a game. Love isn't a game. But I guess it all is to you. You are the ultimate player, the winning contestant in this messed-up game we all play. I'll admit it, at some point we all do get into it. But no one is ever going to be quite as good as you. But, honestly? That's not even the real issue. Do you know what I truly despise about you? Do you know what absolutely kills me about you. I could like you. Hell, I might even be able to love you. But you won't let me. Because you won't give up this stupid game. Give it up, Sirius. You're better than this."
Sirius clearly remembered this speech for several reasons. First, Caitlin had called him Sirius. It was typically Black, asshole, or motherfucking man-whore, depending on her mood. Second, she had said she might love him. He walked on air for days, the mere thought of her words making him euphoric. And third, because it really made him think.
But, really? Sirius Black thinking? What has this world come to? But no. Sirius knew what life's meaning was, at least for him. Caitlin. She occupied his every thought. Every breath, every moment, every dream. Caitlin. Caitlin Jackson. He found himself wishing it was Black. Caitlin Black. So Sirius decided to change his strategy. A fresh start. A clean slate was all he needed. He had been overlooking what he considered to be the obvious. The simple fact that Caitlin was different. Special. There was something about her that set her apart from everyone else. Flexing his muscles and talking about his Quiditch exploits just wouldn't do it for Caitlin. If he wanted her, he would have to do it the old-fashioned way. Friends first, then, gradually, he hoped, it would turn into something more. So, on February 21st, 1977, the day was marked in most calendars that recognized Hogwarts social life. It marked the first day that Sirius Black had talked to a girl without making a single suggestive comment. And it worked on Caitlin. It worked better than he ever could have imagined. He could tell from her laugh, her smile, and the cute little flush of her cheeks when he said sat down next to her and said simply, "Hi, Caitlin. How're you doing?".
The player had changed his game. Higher stakes required a higher bid. And when you play with stakes that high, you play for one purpose and one purpose alone. You play to win. Little did Sirius know, however, that his opponent was bidding even higher.
*~*
Since that very first moment, she knew. Since that train ride, now so many years ago. Years could not tarnish her memories of that moment. She remembered it as clear as day. Getting on that train, looking around. When she thought of that, her stomach still got the same butterflies. She remembered trudging down to the very last compartment, past the whooping and chattering of the older students greeting their friends after the long summer. She reached the compartment finally, and set down her trunk in order to open the sliding glass door. A messy-haired boy with glasses tapped her on the shoulder. She spun around. "Need a hand?" he asked with a kind smile, nodding towards her trunk. The boy looked to be about her age, maybe slightly older. She could only gape at him. Of all people to have her first conversation at Hogwarts with! She had hoped that it would be an experience to remember, perhaps with a nice girl who would eventually become her best friend. But no, of course she couldn't have anything quite that perfect. A nice boy, she would have settled for. But did it have to be this icky charmer boy? He held out his hand. "I'm James Potter. Are you a first year too?" Caitlin crossed her arms over her chest and sniffed.
"Not that it's any of your business, but yes, I am. I'm Caitlin Jackson. And I am perfectly able to handle my trunk on my own, thank you very much. The boy held up his hands in surrender.
"Hey, no hard feelings. I'm just asking. What, are you afraid I have cooties or something?" he sniggered. Caitlin stared at him, highly affronted.
"I do not think you have cooties!" she said angrily, crossing her fingers behind her back.
"I'm just saying. So you don't need my help, alright. I mean, I wouldn't have even come over here if I had known you would be so mean. It's just that we Potter men were taught never to refuse a damsel in distress." He puffed out his chest haughtily. That did it. A damsel in distress? Where on earth had charmer boy learned these pathetic lines? Caitlin stepped closer to him, ready to tell him exactly what she thought, when she got distracted. She stared over the boy's shoulder at a dark haired boy. He was very fit, and had a sort of confidence about him. His gray eyes bore into Caitlin's. They held each other's gaze for what seemed like forever. For all Caitlin knew, it could have been months, or even years while they held that stare. Whoever this boy was, Caitlin knew he would matter to her.
This boy, as she learned at the Sorting, was called Sirius Black. He remembered her, she could tell. She knew because, as the hat screamed "GRYFFINDOR" to what sounded like surprised applause, the boy paused before making his way to the table of his new house. Sirius bowed and grinned, staring directly at her. "What house do you want to be in?" he mouthed. She gestured towards the Gryffindor table. He smiled at her. "Well, good luck, gorgeous," he mouthed. And then he proceeded to begin chatting up a girl named Maria Arkhipova. Caitlin watched them, her outrage apparent on her features. What nerve that boy had! To acknowledge the connection she knew they both felt, then move on to another girl only seconds later! Caitlin now knew what the passionate emotion she felt towards him was. It was hatred. Pure, definite hatred. But hatred had never before felt so sweet.
By seventh year, Caitlin and Sirius's love-hate relationship had become infamous. People asked almost daily to see the scars he had from when she had broken his nose in third year, or asked her to recount the thrilling tale of the Valentine's card he sent her in fifth year. Both played the game with fervor, and both played it well. Sirius enjoyed ti. But Caitlin, on the other hand, did not. Her heart ached every minute she had to go on pretending. She couldn't stand it. Especially after what most people jokingly called "The Black-Jackson Showdown. She had told him, finally, what she had always wanted to. All the things she had kept inside for so long were finally released. She was thrilled. But her happiness did not last long, for he found his retaliation a few days later. Several days after her speech, he had come up with his own. "You know, Caitlin," he said, "you're such a hypocrite. You're telling me to stop playing the game, and yet here you are, the grand prize winner! This pathetic little game, as you so eloquently put it, is a part of who we are. It's a part of us together. You told me, before, that you might be able to love me. You know I'm able to love you. But as for me not letting you love me? That's all you, Caitlin. I've given you every opportunity to love me, but you stubbornly refuse to take it. And without this game, Cate, we don't have a chance in the world. We aren't like those other people, Caitlin Jackson. We're so in love, but we're so afraid to admit it, that we have no fucking idea what to do with ourselves. We can't just sit back and make each other happy. This game is what makes us who we are. No, you and me, we've just got to keep playing. Keep outbidding each other until finally, we both crack. When we both call it a tie. Fair and square, Cate. I cracked already, Caitlin. It's all up to you. Make it a tie, Cate. A tie is the only way in hell we can make this work. We will not settle for one winner. We can do this, Cate. Just let yourself go. Let us happen. You know you want to. I know I do. A tie, Cate. Whenever you're ready, I'll be here."
*~*
So both changed their strategies, yet again. The game had lost its flavor, lost its punch. There simply could be no game without the creators. Without the high bidders. The masters of the game had taken themselves out. Wordlessly, they had agreed to a tie. No words were necessary with a connection that strong. The ultimate players, turned around. They had reformed each other. Neither was perfect, but they were perfect for each other. Nothing in the world was too difficult for them to overcome in the end, if they stuck together. Caitlin Jackson and Sirius Black left the game for good, sealed with a kiss.
Game over.
