**This is a companion fic to 'A Perfectly Plausible Romance' They can be read alone, but I'd reccomend reading that first.**
From what I can tell, girls like all that wishy-washy fairytale bollocks, yeah? Prince Charming, and all that antwacky rubbish. I reckon life would be simple if I fancied a muggle girl. It wouldn't matter to them that my hair points in all directions, or that I've got wobbly knees and knobbly elbows. All that would matter is I've got a wand, and I'm ace at Charms. Instead, my defective brain decided to fancy the astounding, awe-inspiring, violent and dangerous Ms. Lily Evans. She is not impressed by a fine bit of Transfiguration, she simply refuses to be whisked off her feet, and she definitely won't allow any one to save the day for her, especially not me. So what does she want? I am a sixteen year old boy, and what I want, is completely simple. Dungbombs, explosions, nice breasts, and angry freckly redheads. Her on the other hand...Hrmph.
"I wrote down the prefects password, and then I went and misplaced it. I hope no young hooligans find it." Remus said stretching. "On my bedside table. Or what have you." He looked pointedly at Sirius and I. "I am going to the library." Oh the false credit people give to Sirius and I. No one realizes just how vital Remus is to our hooligan-ry, and Marauding. Sirius waggled his expressive eyebrows, communicating in pregnant silence.
How shall we utilize this most momentous opportunity?
I bit my lip and accidentally turned the colour of a tomato.
Prefects bathroom. Evans. Drool.
It takes a special sort of friend to recognize exactly what a distinctly tomato-y colour means, and Sirius is nothing, if not a special sort of friend. He nodded, and went back to playing Wizard's chess against himself. Of all of the wizards who ever lived, all the way back to Merlin, if there was any one who should most certainly not have access to an invisibility cloak, it was I. Perhaps Grindelwald. But mostly me. Fortunately, my Dad passed it down to me before I had so much as hinted at the terrible person I would soon bloom into. I fetched the invisibility cloak, and the Map, glancing at Remus' bedside table. JiggeryPokery. I thought about stealing the chocolate bar that he had stupidly left unattended, but shook my head, reminding myself of his JiggeryPokery kindness.
The cavernous corridors carried me to my destination without much thought. Shrouded in invisibility, I stood before my goal, JiggeryPokery resting on the tip of my tongue.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." I whispered to the Map, and it unfurled beautifully, footprints stretching over the faded parchments corridors, banners announcing their owners, stairs ever changing, the castle ever evolving. There, just beyond the wall, just a few feet in front of the footprints marked James Potter, Lily Evans, surely having her morning bath. Excitement tickled my insides, I could go look. But at the same time I couldn't. I slouched against the wall, sliding down it like a jellyfish, staring at the Map. As a matter of fact, I felt like there were jellyfish in my stomach. In my lungs. Munching my liver. If jellyfish can even munch.
Some strange and twisted morality had overtaken me and I couldn't go in. I tried, I tried again and again, Ji- Jigg- Ji-, I couldn't get it out. I wanted to see her, I wanted to count the freckles from the origins of her orange hair, down to the presumably rare scattering on the very tips of her toes; I wanted her to show me. It would feel like stealing, I reasoned, to see her, all of her, without her knowing. It would be like kissing the princess in her sleep, not seeing the flutter of her eyelashes, or the face she makes when she knows your lips are coming. Prince Charming kisses the princess in her sleep. Lily Evans, whatever it is that she wants, certainly does not want Prince Charming.
Somewhere distantly in the back of my mind, a voice disturbingly remniscent of Sirius Black screamed. You tosser! You won't go in there because you're a poofter made of pudding and girl. Not the good sort of pudding, nor the good sort of girl. I let out a long sigh and thought very hard for very long about standing up before my muscles actually obeyed my mind's orders. I decided to go to the library, as Remus would be there, and would have the decency not to laugh at my newly acquired tosser status. My eyes darted about, scanning for signs of life, when I saw none, I let the airy fabric of the cloak fall down my shoulders. I balled it up in my bag and headed to the library. I spotted an old bit of parchment on the floor and picked it up. I transfigured it into one of those little Muggle bubble-blower-bottles. My Mum used to buy them for me, and they had always cheered me up.
Remus was up on one of those ladder things when I spotted him, reaching for an old dusty tome of arbitrary knowledge. I searched out his tattered bag and sat in the seat next to it. It was frayed and made me want to buy him a new one, but I knew he'd be more ashamed to walk about with a bag I'd bought for him than he was continue carrying that old thing. I resigned myself to the whimsical joy of bubbles. He came back and set the book down with soft careful fingers. I poked my fingers into the perfect glossy roundness that I was creating. He cleared his throat with no subtlety, and said that he may fancy Sirius. I inhaled soap. Soap is, I have decided, the most horrid taste ever. However, if you were to ask me what happened on that day, I would say it was the day Remus came out to me, as opposed to the day I inhaled soap, so that must count for something. I wasn't very surprised, I was however, hurt, as he seemed to think that I would disaprove, that I would shun him for liking blokes. I didn't show the hurt, I played Prince Charming, like always, emotionless and strong and virtuous.
I let him get everything off of his chest, we took the mickey out of each other, patented Marauder segway. He smacked me round the head and we laughed. There was a lull in conversation, while he worried at his lip, and toyed with the edges of his pages, thin fingers pretending that they could never become talons. I wanted him to try with Sirius. I thought the balance of his soft to Sirius' intensity would match, I thought that they might just complete each other.
"What's on your mind?" Remus asked, tugging me violently out of my head.
"Hm? Oh. Evans."
"Repulsive creature, you." He said, and the snarl in his lips was betrayed by the smile in his eyes. "Maybe I shouldn't have left that passowrd lying about."
"That's the problem, actually." I moaned. "If you tell Sirius what I am about to impart to you, I will trap you in a state of perpetual full moon using magic I have no idea how to use." I joke lit his eyes, but he accepted the gravity of the situation and nodded solemnly. I glanced around, as Sirius had a tendency to show up whenever he is mentioned.
I took a very very deep breath. Unnecessarily deep.
"I couldn't go in. I just sat there, outside, under the cloak, like a lump of potato." I whispered urgently. "I am a girl. I am a girl made of pudding and potatoes. A girl made of potato pudding." His eyebrows shot up so high they were hidden by his shaggy light hair.
"I'm - whoa." Surely I was a potato pudding girl, as I had rendered Remus John Lupin, Pope of all that is Grammatically Holy, speechless. I wove my hands into my hair.
"No one - hm." I stopped, attempting to articulate my thoughts more accurately. "I mean, there's plenty of girls who - who tolerate me, or even like me. No one - far as I know - really proper fancies me." I stopped to concentrate all my efforts on untangling my hand from my hair. "And I don't fancy any of them either. But then - out of all of those girls who might give me a go - I can't stop thinking about Lily bloody Evans. She hates me." Remus awkwardly patted my shoulder, poor bloke wasn't as easy with physical contact as Sirius and I. But he tried, and I was grateful for that. He was really quiet, which isn't shocking. I don't think I'd know what to say if someone babbled at me like that.
"How do I-?" I stopped myself. I wasn't sure if Remus was the right person to ask, but I let it go any way. "What do I do?"
"Well." He stared down at his fingers and bit his lip, his megabrain surely placing commas and prepositions where they needed to be. "From what she tells me - You just act like an arse." Eloquent. "I mean, she's not to know, but like - now. Now you're not being an arse. You're just being James. James isn't an arse. Prince Charming quidditch star, Gryffindor tough guy James - He's an arse."
I was grateful for that advice, as much as it just solidified what I already knew, but it felt incomplete. I needed a second opinion. I needed a Sirius opinion. Unfortunately Sirius was acting like a great prat for no bloody reason.
"Stop lamenting the miserable state of your nether-parts, and talk to me." I finally said, after a few days of painful silence. He had been coddled and left alone for long enough, I needed my best mate. He spun his head around quick, his eyes betrayed his apathy for just a moment with rage. Then the lids drooped and he didn't care again.
"Wotcher." He said finally, which was a dead giveaway. I thought back to once in second year. He had just climbed out the arse end of a month long depression, and was marvelling at how the word wotcher was great for when you wanted to be pleasant, but speak as little as possible.
"I'm gonna cut to the point." I said. "You're wanker-y is hurting at least two people. I am one of them." I wanted to kick him for making me admit that I was hurt. There is nothing in this world less masculine than admitting that your feelings are hurt.
"What's going on?" His voice clung to his apathy, but somehow under it's heavy layers, there was concern.
"It's just-" I made a frustrated Urgh noise and ruffled my hair. Again. "I feel like such a - a bloody idiot. It's not even a big deal!" I was talking to myself more than to him. But I reminded myself that sometimes, it feels like those are the same thing.
"That was informative." He said flatly.
"Nothing just-" Deep breath. "Nothing. But please stop being such a prick. It's not just me you're hurting." I said. I had decided, for some reason, that I didn't want to discuss it any more. Something about being protective of Remus, and angry that Sirius was hurting him. I couldn't help but want to protect him, ever since Sirius pulled that stupid prank that resulted in Snivelly finding out about his furry little problem. Remus wasn't even very mad. I felt like I should be holding his grudge for him. I stormed off like a toddler. I heard Sirius distantly in the background shouting "Who?" after me, but I pretended not to hear, not for his sake, but for mine. I'd much rather pretend he didn't hear, that he was the one being an arse, and not me. I felt so many things splintering, and breaking off in so many different directions that all I could do was be angry. I hoped just for second, that if I ever had a son, he wouldn't inherit my temper. Then I reminded myself that Prince Charming gets a kiss, he gets a date. Prince Charming never has kids. His story ends after the kiss, and then he's never heard from again.
Well, that was certainly an emotional rollercoaster, wasn't it?
Don't worry, our darling Jamesie will work it out.
If you spotted the Doctor Who reference, you're my new best friend.
I have rough drafts of the other two chapters (Yes, another three-parter) so chapter 2 will be up as soon as I get it all revised and pretty.
Lemme know what you think.