I love to see a young girl go out and grab the world by the lapels. Life's a bitch. You've got to go out and kick ass - Maya Angelou.
September 1st 1976.
10:50 AM.
I hate saying goodbye to my parents. Well, my mum more than anything. She gets this sad look on her face like she's sending me off to dance in a pit of lions who've missed a couple of days feeding. That was a stupid example. I mean...well, I guess that isn't an awful way of putting it.
I do, you see, share a dormitory with a bunch of sixth year Slytherin girls. They're fucking rabid.
'You will write if anything happens, won't you?' My mum has this soft Irish accent that will forever remind me of home. I look quite a bit like her, really. Same hazel eyes, same dark and frizzy hair, same stupidly long legs and thick eyebrows. Do you know how much I have to pluck the fucking things for them to be passable? Being a girl and having all these bloody standards to meet is a fucking hindrance. 'I don't want Brant sending us letters to tell us you've been-been...hexed again, Lola! We hadn't heard from you in days and then that-' Fucking hell. She's growing hysterical and I haven't even got on the bloody Hogwarts Express yet.
I look to my father, who is twitching his moustache with a distracted look on his face. His hand is planted on my little brother, Charlie's, shoulder. Speaking of Charlie, he looks like he's about to piss himself. Not Gryffindor, then. I always reckoned he was gonna be a Hufflepuff, anyway. 'Dad, make it stop. Please'. I jut my chin toward my mother.
He jumps at my voice. He'd grown quite good at zoning out my mothers hysterics. He pats my brothers shoulder and brightens up, bald head glinting in the orange lighting. The noise of families saying goodbye and trolleys rattling against the concrete is growing louder and louder - it's almost time to go. 'Come on, Helen. She's fine! She's survived this many years with the snakes - sure she can handle two more!'
'Don't call them that, Brian!'
'Dad, what if I'm in Slytherin? I don't wanna be a snake like Lola! They all hate her!'
'Charlie, leave you sister alone! Nobody hates her-'
'No,' I agreed easily, thinking of my terrible Slytherin Housemates. 'They do'.
'See! They hex her and charm her skirt to do funny things all the time - dad told me!'
'Brian!'
'I was preparing him, Helen'.
Charlie is growing quite hysterical at this point. His black curls are flying about his face in a panic as he looks from my father to my mother, his blue eyes nearly welling with tears. I catch sight of a few seventh year Ravenclaws snickering as they pass. Oh, piss off. I want to tell them. Like you were any better when you were a first year. It is then that I catch the eye of Sirius Black - a boy who always found it just fucking hilarious that someone like me was sorted into Slytherin. Stupid Gryffindor.
Still, he did aim a pretty good pus-squirting hex at Yaxley last time that bastard tried to call me a filthy little halfblood muggle-lover. Considering he comes from one of the darkest pureblood families around, Black ain't too bad.
'We've got to go, Charlie,' I tell him, having rolled my eyes at Black's ever amused face. 'Come on, dude. It's fine! You can sit with me and Brant on the train until you find some other first years, huh?' I blink suddenly, thoughts of my best friend swarming. 'Wait. Where the fuck is Brant?'
My mother (who, if you haven't guessed by now, is a muggle and cautious of everything Slytherin because of everything my stupid Gryffindor father has told her) snaps her mouth shut and widens her eyes at me in warning. I nearly cower. 'You're right,' she says, giving my brother a very soft smile. 'It's almost time to go, Charlie. Are you ready to go with your sister?'
'You don't have to talk to him like he's an infant'. I, yet again, roll my eyes.
My father chuckles. I think he always knew I was going to be in Slytherin, you know. He always said I had a sarcastic way about me - he swears I used to even roll my eyes at him when I was a baby. He wasn't exactly happy (hello, Gryffindor?) but he got used to it. If anything, my parents care more about the fact that all of my Housemates threaten to kill, maim or seriously injure me on a daily basis.
'Oh!' I gasp happily. 'There's Brant! Yoo-hoo!' I trill, watching his dark haired head snap in my direction. It also catches the attention of James Potter and Remus Lupin, both of who's heads turn to look bemusedly in my direction as they climb aboard the steaming red train. Although the latter stare makes me falter, I attempt to ignore them and stand on my tiptoes in my beat up converse, waving madly. I look back at my little brother, who is clutched in my mothers arms and roll my eyes again. 'Merlin,' I mutter.
'Let the boy go, Helen. Merlin'. I share a knowing look with my father. Some time away from mum will do Charlie wonders. 'C'mere, Charlie. Give dad a hug before you go'. I've always loved that about my dad; he doesn't shy away from affection.
Brant (or Brantley, but he'll hex you into next week if you call him that) is suddenly behind me, shoulder pressed hard against mine. I fling my arms around him as he greets my parents. Merlin, he's grown again! What's with these boys shooting up all of a sudden?
'Brant! Oh, don't you look handsome!' My mum swoops in for a hug once I finally pull away from him, her voice wobbly and her cheeks flushed.
'No!' I snap. 'Enough with the emotional hellos and goodbyes - this is taking far too long. We need to go. There aren't going to be any compartments left!' Brant's brown eyes smile at me and I can't believe how much I've missed him since he's been in France. Jesus, he bulked out. The girls are gonna be fawning over him even more this year. My mother steps away from Brant and curls her arms around me, whispering her goodbyes with wet cheeks pressed against my hair. 'Quit it,' I mutter. She knows I'll miss her.
'Your Slytherin's showing, sunshine,' Brant says and my dad lets out a booming laugh.
Sigh.
I hug my dad next whilst mum fusses over Charlie, making sure he has everything from his first year robes to the money she gave him to get sweets on the train. Brant nudges him. 'Wait 'till you try the pumpkin pasties, Charlie. They are to die for, little dude!'
'Look after your brother,' my dad says, chin resting on the top of my head. 'And look after yourself. They hex you, you hex them right back. My ambitious, cunning, ball of love-'
I roll my eyes, pulling away. 'Slytherin's are other things too, dad'.
'Yeah. Sociopaths,' Brant butts in, earning him an elbow to the arm from me.
It is then that I realise how empty Platform 9 3/4 has suddenly become. 'Oh, shit!' I yelp, much to my mothers dismay. 'We gotta go - come on, buttercup. On to the train we go'. I waved one last time at my parents, promising to look after Charlie before Brant and I hurdle him quickly onto the train in record timing, nearly knocking over a fourth year Hufflepuff in the process.
'We made it!'
'Boom!'
Brant and I high five dramatically.
'Zaveri. Leola. Excuse me'. We both turn, Charlie tucked neatly between us. Internal sigh - it's Lily Evans, a fellow sixth year with flaming red hair and eyes as green as the stuff I'm sure Brant has tucked away in his jeans somewhere. 'Can I get through please? You're blocking the way'. Her almond shaped eyes blink at her, Prefect badge shining against her Gryffindor robes. Of course she's already changed into her uniform. Skirt below knee length and everything - Christ.
'Oh, yeah. Sorry, Evans,' Brant says quickly, probably scared that she can smell the weed on his form. He yanks me back and Charlie squeaks. Hufflepuff, I think. Definitely.
It's only proper and perfect and just my fucking luck that Brant backs me up into Remus bloody Lupin. Why are there so many Gryffindors surrounding me? I should repel the brawny morons. Hiss hiss.
I look over my shoulder and up (I have long legs, what the fuck is happening to all these boys?!) and catch his gaze, offering a quick and sharp apology. Don't blush. Boys don't make you blush! Why do his amber (who the fuck has amber eyes?!) eyes always look so hooded and tired but in a stupidly fucking attractive way? Those bloody bags under his eyes should scream meth addict! not screw me! Suddenly remembering my little brother is tucked under my arm, I back away quickly and scold myself internally for thinking such filthy things in his presence.
Lupin smiles lazily, looking me up and down with a quick flick of his gaze. I'm wearing dark jeans and a grey Led Zeppelin shirt that Brant grew out of two years ago. I don't even like Led Zeppelin. He meets my gaze again. 'Hello, Leola'. Yes, okay? My name is Lola fucking Leola. Mum was too dosed up on muggle drugs to say no to my dad before he picked my name.
Lupin's not even trying to be smug, but I hate the smile he gives me. It's like he knows and he's mocking me. Oh, bloody hell. Slytherin mask of indifference: on. I fucking hate the Marauders. 'Lupin,' I greet coolly.
'Remus - there you are!' Lily says brightly, a wide smile gracing her pretty face. So the scowl was just saved for myself and Brant? Nice one. 'You're late for the Prefects meeting. I know, I know. It was probably Potter and Black distracting you'. She scowls and I bite back an eye roll.
Brant tugs on my arm and we're off. I slip past Lupin, eyes darting up his stupidly tall form and noting that he'd gotten a little stubble over summer. Not to mention taller and- and manlier and it looks like he's wearing a white, non regulation t-shirt underneath his robes. Jesus, I thought fifth year Lupin who had suddenly decided to chill out was tasty. Sixth Year Lupin was h o t-
Why do I care?!
No. No, no. You don't fawn over guys, just because you-
'This one okay?'
I nod at Brant, allowing him to bundle myself and Charlie into the compartment. There's a first year in there and his eyes widen when he catches sight of myself and Brant. I push Charlie ahead and point. 'There you go. Friend'. He looks like he wants to stab me in the face as his pale features flush. The boy, though, sticks his hand out to Charlie and introduces himself quickly.
'Hi. I'm Elliot Smith'. Muggleborn. Good. Charlie would get on with him. He'd always felt more comfortable in mums muggle world.
Brant tugs me toward the window so that we can sit opposite each other and away from the nervously chatting eleven year old's. I smile at my little brother as he fiddles with his hands and nods at whatever this Elliot kid is saying. I hope they're in the same House-
'I boned a guy'.
I turn to Brant and nod, an approving look gracing my features. 'In France?'
'Uh huh'.
'So, you enjoyed it?'
'Uh huh'.
'So, you like guys now?'
'Uh uh. Both. The world is my oyster, Lo'. He leans back happily in his chair, dark skin practically glowing as he smiles smugly at me. Brantley Zaveri was the epitome of cool and good looking and effortless at fucking everything. Well, aside from Astronomy. That was my forte. Still, how someone could drink and smoke as much as Brant and not be brain dead was a mystery to me. Though, I suppose the Marauders were still alive...
'You greedy bastard,' I joke, kicking my feet onto his knees. 'Does your sister know?' Luella Zaveri, a fifth year Slytherin and one of the girls that often shouted words such as 'halfblood' or 'muggle lover' in my general direction. I mean, how could I not be a muggle lover? My mum was a muggle? Idiots. Although she outwardly hated me and tried extra hard to live up to her fathers standards, she was Brant's sister. You see, Brant's mum and dad divorced when Brant was seven and Luella six. Brant's dad got a little too Pureblood crazy for Mrs Zaveri (she thought she could change him, but she thought wrong), so she called it quits and Brant went with her whilst Luella went with Mr Zaveri.
Which is why she turned out to be a fucking gremlin of a human being. Like, honestly, I've met piles of gnome shit with better manners than her.
Brant snorted loudly. Charlie and Elliot glanced over, before resuming their conversation on what House they wanted to be in. I ignored the fake retching sounds they made at the idea of being in Slytherin. 'Fuck no. You serious? She fucking despises you, and that's just because you're mums a muggle and you-well...' he trails off, an amused smile gracing his features. 'You did very loudly say at the leaving feast at the end of last year that you thought every single Slytherin should retract their heads from Salazar Slytherin's arsehole because he was a - what was it?'
I pursed my lips, trying not to smile. 'A bigoted prick who's own prick was probably the size of my thumb because, well, why else would he be so obsessed with massive snakes if he wasn't making up for something?'
'Sirius Black and Frank Longbottom fell out of their chairs they were laughing so hard - I saw it myself'. Brant scoffed. 'You're gonna get yourself hexed into oblivion this year, y'know. You ought to be careful, Lo'.
I glared at him. 'Let them try'. I sighed. 'My House would be so fucking good if it wasn't for all the Pureblood shit. I'm sure all of them and their families support You-Know-Who'.
Brant glowered. 'Yeah. Luella mentioned it in her letters a few times - says he's got the right idea'. He rolled his large, dark eyes. 'She's doing it to fit in - I swear she asked the Sorting Hat to place her in Slytherin, sometimes - just so dad would be pleased. She so should have been in Ravenclaw with me'. He sighed and took my ankle in his large hand, giving it a quick rub. 'She'll learn - who gives a fuck? Anyway, this guy - Lo. He was beautiful and he let me top-!'
I glanced at Charlie to make sure his precious little ears were far away from this conversation. He and Elliot were sat comparing wands (oh, ha ha) and, once again, I smiled at the way his shaggy curls bounced around his face. He was such a little cinnamon roll. It was then that I glanced up at the compartment door and through the glass, the words of Brant fading into the black as I made eye contact with side of Remus stupid-face Lupin's head.
He'd shed himself of his robes and his Prefect badge - not that he'd been wearing his red and gold tie anyway. He was leaning against the door with one skinny shoulder, his slightly tan arms crossed over what looked to be a crinkled, plain white t-shirt. His hair was a sandy blonde mess and his mouth was tugged into a half smile as he stared at the animated and just ridiculously good looking Sirius Black. Remus always looked so soft and hard at the same time - how was that even possible?
'Please tell me you're looking at Black with those 'do me' eyes, because you can do a lot better than Lupin, sweetheart. We've been over this'. I snap my gaze back to Brant, my glare already in place. 'C'mon. You've got me and Fabian Prewett on your Banged So Far List, and he was a seventh year when you were only a fifth - it's only up from here-'
I looked at Charlie. Still distracted. 'We do not talk about that'.
Brant leans forward and I drop my feet from his lap. Resting his elbows on his knees he grins at me, white teeth shining in the morning sun that filters through the window. Outside, the countryside whizzes by us. 'What? That I popped your-'
'I popped yours too!' I shoot back angrily.
He tilts his head. 'Touche'.
There is a brief silence in which I glance toward Lupin once again. His head is leaned back as he laughs at something Black has said, and now I can see Peter Pettigrew bobbing excitedly next to tall, dark and goofy Sirius Black. Potter was probably off hunting Evans or pestering Alice Lavier, Dorcas Meadowes and Marlene McKinnon as to where Evans was.
'I told him I wanted to fuck him at the Gryffindor end of year party'.
I say it so lowly that I wonder if he has even heard me. When I turn back to Brant there is a positively glowing look upon his handsome, dumb face. 'Oh,' he breathes, clasping his hands in front of him. 'Do tell. I'm offended you didn't tell in the first place, but do tell'.
I shrug. 'Nothing much to tell. We all were fucked, remember?'
'Kinda. I remember stumbling to the Dungeons with you and Edith and trying to roll a joint out of leaves'. He breathes in deeply. 'C'mon - spill it'.
I speak in a fucking whisper, half worried that the Marauders will hear me. 'Oh, yeah. Ha. I'd forgotten about that. Anyway, before that I was with Emmeline Vance dancing and then - ugh, Merlin. And then Black stumbles over and starts necking off with her, so I go over get another drink and Lupin is there and you know I've always had a boner for him, okay? And Regulus Black, actually. Even if he is a prick. Even when I had that thing with Fabian. Sorry! So he's drunk and he looked good last year, he's gotten fit. I mean, have you seen him today? The fuck happened? Right - sorry. Anyway we somehow ended up half way up the boys staircase in Gryffindor Tower and he was breathing really hard and his eyes were all dark and I touched a scar on his face and he just fucking attacked me. I've never been kissed like that - oh, shut up! Me and you were practically babies. And then I told him...I told him I'd wanted to fuck him bad for ages and then Sirius Black stumbled into us and I ran'.
I shake my head.
'He's seen me. Weak'.
Brant blinks. 'That's why you're so mortified?'
I kick his shin. 'I am not mortified. I don't get mortified. I'm annoyed because now he's looking at me like he's seen me all gooey and girly and drunk and I'm Lola Leola and that doesn't happen to me. He's so fucking smug,' I grit the words out through clenched teeth. 'And I bet he's told the lot of them. The Marauders. Stupid bloody name'.
'I forgot what a freak you are with guys. Do you hate them all?'
'Fuck you,' I say, affronted.
'He's looking at you'.
My head snaps in Lupin's direction, only to find he has his wand out and is paying far more attention to something down the corridor than to me. Black is doing a funny little dance as he stares at whatever the hell Lupin is doing. Brant snorts. 'Jesus. You fancy him'.
'I do not. I barely know him'.
'Okay then, you wanna screw him'. He cocks a brow, arms crossed.
I blink. 'Shut it'.
'What are you guys talking about?' Charlie pipes up, wide blue eyes looking at me in interest. I pat his arm and shake my head, telling him it's nothing. After he goes back to chatting away with Elliot, I turn back to Brant.
'You breathe a word of this to anyone and I'll kill you'.
'Rude'.
'I'm serious'.
He rolls his eyes and reaches into his pocket for his wand. As he begins twiddling it between his fingers with grace, I glance secretly at the boys outside of our compartment. 'Endrew and Edith don't give a shit about your love life, Lola. Where are they, anyway?'
I straighten up and blink, thinking of the letter I had sent to the two Ravenclaw twins. 'Oh, bugger. I told them we'd find them. Whoops'. Brant sighs in annoyance. 'What? You're the brains, not me. We'll go in a second, when-' I cut myself off at catching the deadpan look that Brant is sending me. I suddenly feel dumb.
'When the bumbling band of fuck-boys leaves? I thought you said you weren't embarrassed, Lola Leola-?'
'I'm not! Merlin, you're such a dick. Let's go then'. I grab my bag as I stand, telling my brother that I will see him at the Sorting. 'Just look for me okay? I'll be at the table with the sour faced pale people. You'll be fine'. I pinch his cheek and and roll my eyes at Brant. 'Should we start at the front or the back of the train?'
'Front. Maybe we can catch the food trolley'.
'Okay. Nice to meet you, Elliot'.
I yank open the door with perhaps a little more ferocity than was needed. Black's grey eyes snap to my face and he smirks, catching Pettigrew's gaze before they both waggle their eyebrows at Lupin. 'Subtle,' I mutter, annoyed. Black smirks. Lupin stares stoically at me, arms crossed. I'm thankful for Brant's towering form behind me, his warmth close to my back. 'Can you move, please?' I say to Lupin, face blank and eyebrow raised. 'We need to go that way'.
I'm suddenly stupidly annoyed at him for telling Black, Potter and Pettigrew about my embarrassing and dirty drunk confession. I mean, of course he would. I'd tell Brant, Endrew and Edith. But still, fuck him.
...I wish.
His eyes flash to Brant before looking back to me. His jaw twitches. He shrugs and pushes himself aside. 'Sure'. Bored amber eyes travel to Black and Pettigrew, both of whom are play fighting with each other. I almost smile when I see Lupin grimace at them. 'We should probably go find Prongs, guys. Lily has probably hexed him a good fifty times by now'. He's got a nice voice. Why does he have to have a nice voice? I'm a sucker for a deep voice-
I push past him but, hey ho, my shoelace was untied! Why the fuck wouldn't it be tied? Luck is just shitting all over me today. I stumble and straighten myself quickly, but not before Lupin's hand comes out to steady me, warm and big and right on my bicep and those honey eyes are boring into mine and-
I push away from him and blink with a quick nod. Go you, Lola. 'Thanks'.
Brant snorts.
Black smirks
Pettigrew stares at his own hand in interest.
And Lupin looks at me with those bloody eyes and I know that Brant was bloody right, the stupid bloody Ravenclaw know-it-all.
I fancy Remus Lupin and I want to screw the daylights out of him.
I've never written anything like this before - I'm normally pretty subtle with my dirtiness in fics. I started writing a marauders fanfiction a good two years, but it never quite flowed right. I love Lola and I hope you like her too so yeeeeah. Review!
