Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or events created by J.K. Rowling, and therefore deserve no credit pertaining to her ideas.
Chapter One
Under the glare of the effervescent full moon, and hidden within the confines of the Shrieking Shack, Peter peeked through the cracked window of the second story nervously, trying to make out trees and bushes through the age-stained glass. He fidgeted with his fingers, drew his eyebrows together and tapped on the dusty surface of the pane's ledge, sketching doodles with his yellowing nails and then picking at the residue that gathered under them. James, who was slumped in the decrepit armchair in the opposing corner, watched idly, having nothing better to do, with his elbow propped on the crooked side table and his cheek resting on his palm. Sirius, who stood impatiently against the wall behind James, exhaled loudly.
"That's disgusting, Peter," he muttered, turning to pace the room's length. Peter immediately dropped the opposing arm to his side and diverted his gaze to the ceiling.
James smiled bemusedly. "Claws in, Padfoot."
Sirius only spared James a sideways glance as he walked by, crossing his arms.
"What? You know it is," he muttered quietly, though he decided reluctantly not to argue.
The three had spent the past few minutes, as they had every full moon since their first year, in quiet desperation. That's all it was, all it ever was, the first moments after they heard Remus's transformation; the screams of pain and terror mixing gradually into the howls of a beast. It seemed to last forever, though in reality, the scene would pass in a matter of seconds.
The silence after was the worst.
All three felt it— the dread that filled the pits of their stomachs as paranoid thoughts flew wildly about their minds. They each knew that he should be just fine, but the possibility that the sequence had managed to hurt their friend was enough to make them anxious. Accustomed to the desultory acceleration of their pulses, the other three Marauders struggled to regain their confidence in his strength, that the silence was only due to his fleeting point of rest before the werewolf within him would take over entirely.
There was a bang from below, and their heads snapped toward the door that Sirius had paused at. It was followed by an angry crash, and a canine yelp.
Sirius glanced back at James, who nodded curtly over an unspoken agreement, and toward Peter, who only returned the look.
It was time to go.
"Moony, wake up."
Remus squinted open his fragile eyes, which were instantly attacked by the burning rays of light that crept through the window across from his bed. Was it truly morning already?
James plopped onto the edge of Remus's bed ungracefully, taking a bite from an apple. His breakfast.
"Yeah mate, really," Sirius added, who was leaning casually against his bedpost, arms crossed boldly over his chest and shaggy dark hair perfectly fringing his charcoal gray eyes. "It's eleven. We have mischief to manage."
Groaning, Remus rolled back the other way, only just able to catch himself before sliding off his bed. James grinned to Sirius, who smirked.
"Moony. Wake up." James prodded the crimson and gold blankets somewhere around Remus's left side, and his friend flinched, reaching around to swat at James in return. His palm caught James at his slender elbow, knocking the apple out of his hand. It hit the floor with a clunk.
"That's not very nice," Peter scolded half-heartedly, eyebrows raised as he stepped into the dorm. He was holding several filled pastries, with a goblet of orange juice in hand for Remus, as was customary most mornings after transforming. James stared down at the apple, and mussed his hair lazily.
The room was empty except for the four, three surrounding their tired friend impatiently, and the tired friend yanking the covers on his bed up to block the light. At eleven in the morning, on a bright, sunny Saturday, the seventh years could easily be found at Hogsmeade, the Great Hall, the Gryffindor common room, or if they so chose, not at all. That was the beauty of being a Marauder; you always had somewhere to be, and everyone would know you when you got there.
Sirius pulled a thick, folded piece of parchment from the back pocket of his slacks, under the untucked bit of shirt that he'd missed when dressing. Remus had always suspected that he carefully made his appearance seem careless— and the look did suit him. Then again, any look could suit the physically blessed Sirius Black; with masculine, chiseled facial features, and as a tall, lean person, Remus figured that the unkempt look was something the witches at Hogwarts particularly enjoyed. Not to mention the supposedly entrancing grin, to which Remus had encountered many obnoxious conversations when attempting to study at the library. He tried not to stray onto that subject for too long, due to the sequent awkwardness.
"'Ey," James grunted, smacking Remus in the back lightly. "Come on, Moony. Let's go."
No, Remus replied inwardly, rubbing his eyes. The adventures of the previous night were still fresh in his mind, and the aches in his back would bear as a constant reminder throughout the day. He couldn't recall getting any injuries that would need attention from the nurse, but she would want him to check in anyway, as was customary.
Though he knew he would regret it, Remus managed to muster the energy he needed to wake. Summoning all the power he had, he folded away the edge of his bedspread, and with a yawn, sat up. The floor was cold on his toes as he swung his legs around..
Sirius was shaking his head to James. "She's already gone, mate. Sorry." With hardly any surprise, Remus realized groggily that Sirius was examining the Marauder's Map.
"Aw," James answered, though he didn't show any remorse. If anything, he was intrigued.
"Lily?" Peter asked, handing the goblet to Remus and taking a seat on his own bed, against the opposite wall. He was the only one completely dressed, but he typically was; Peter had always been shy about his weight, and had taken to hiding the worst of it under the school robes. Even James, Remus and Sirius hardly saw him wearing anything less anymore.
Cocking an eyebrow, Sirius grinned. "Who else could it be? I swear, Prongs will never let her go."
"Shut your face," James muttered. Try as he might to silence the others with a menacing look, all he could deliver was a slightly dreamy expression that took over whenever someone mentioned Lily. Sirius chuckled, smiling, and Peter laughed. "And I won't."
"So she hasn't dumped you on your arse yet?" Remus teased lightly. He drained the goblet in one swig, and set it on the stand beside his bed, stretching.
This time, James pulled off a steady glare, as Peter laughed again in the background.
His features became calculative as took a second to actually think on that point. "I hope not," he admitted with a tense chuckle, and his eyes digressed to the floor.
"Oh, right," Sirius rolled his eyes, still scanning the parchment. "Prongs gets nervous."
A smile spread onto Remus's face— he could appreciate the ribbing more so when it was directed away from himself. So long as it stayed that way, he figured his day would end all right, despite the morning-after conditions. His patience tended to thin to a bare minimum when he was stressed and tired, though most times that problem arose, he could push it away.
"Anyone else out there?" Peter inquired after finishing a pastry. He licked his lips clean of crumbs.
"Erm," Sirius flipped back a page, and stared at what Remus could guess was the Gryffindor common room. "Just a bunch of first and second years, and maybe a fourth year, but no one interesting. I think I'd recognize her if she was older."
Remus and James exchanged a look mixed between being impressed and feeling annoyed; the last statement was true. Remus's theory about his friend's unkempt look definitely had the results to vouch for, as nearly every girl with one positive trait had dated Sirius. It gave Sirius a reason to look forward to the holiday, where he wouldn't be confined to sloppy seconds or mediocre blind dates. When his gaze shifted to Peter, Remus could see the pure admiration in the eyes he met.
"Wanker," Remus mumbled noncommittally, standing up and peeling off his nightshirt. He shuffled to the worn trunk at the end of his four-poster, the edges frayed and clasps dulled. He could vaguely recall a time when he was overly excited to inherit his father's aged school trunk, red vinyl once polished, golden buckles shining. It matched the Gryffindor house colors.
Remus and his father had stood before their modest brick fireplace, at the heart of their tidy home. In two short weeks, Remus would be off for Hogwarts.
"So," his father had said, clapping a giant hand on Remus's frail shoulder, firm yet gentle. He knelt in front of his expectant son, who had his father's amber eyes; they were underlined in dark shadows. "Do you know what this means, Remus?"
The eleven-year-old had shook his head slowly, eyes wide. "No. What does it mean?"
The older man fixed his son with an intense, even stare. He seemed completely serious. "You absolutely must be sorted into Gryffindor, or we'll disown you. No 'but's about it." He held the grave expression for a few seconds, watching Remus's eyes widen frightfully. Then, he broke into a playful smile. "We don't want to have to buy you another trunk, Rem."
There was a disapproving sniff from behind them.
"John, don't say that to him," Mrs. Lupin tutted. "He's scared to death that will happen anyway. We won't disown you if you aren't in Gryffindor," she reassured her son soothingly, stepping up and setting a lighter, more feminine palm on his other shoulder. "Just aim outside of Slytherin, and we won't have any problems."
They were joking, of course; both of Remus's parents were warm and friendly in nature, a part of what made the pair so compatible. His mother had gained some weight after having her only son, but only just. She could hardly be called plump, that is. Her dark hair hung in curls to her shoulders, bouncing playfully. She was wearing red lipstick. His father, on the other hand, had slimmed with age, and gray had begun to fringe his facial hair.
"It's true," Sirius replied, pulling Remus unwillingly from his memory; he missed his parents.
"Well, you don't have to rub it in," Remus answered, a slight chuckle seeping into his voice. It was a topic the Marauders had argued over many times. Balling up his shirt, he tossed it into the trunk, and selected a plain white button-up, which had been folded neatly by the house elves. He was sliding the appropriate arm into its sleeve when James spoke up again.
"Your robes from yesterday didn't come back," he said. "Reparo didn't work on them, they were pretty bad. Sorry."
"Neither did Episkey," piped in Peter.
Remus sighed. He was tired of needing new robes every month— luckily for him, Dumbledore seemed to know exactly when they would be necessary, and the garments would normally appear folded and neat in the bottom of his trunk sometime the next day. To Remus's great appreciation, Dumbledore also went the length of going over the cloth several times with his skilled wand, giving the current clothes an appearance of being worn profusely. It helped keep the suspicion under control.
"Thanks for trying," he offered, quite convincingly. He was sincerely gracious of his friends' efforts, but was too tired to show anything more than monotone gratitude.
"Yeah, no problem Moony," said Sirius distractedly, still staring into the parchment, and Remus doubted that Sirius tried at all. "The Map says that we can have a straight shot to the Whomping Willow without any problems. There are a few younger Ravenclaws down by the lake, but unless they decide to get themselves killed, they won't be anywhere near the passage."
James nodded, ready to go. He pulled his wand from his pocket— eleven inches, slender, made from willow. It carried a core of kelpie hair, which he found more exciting than his friends did. He twirled it in his fingers.
Peter, James, and Sirius were soon staring expectantly at Remus, who had paused during his reverie, only partially dressed still; James began tapping his toes on the floorboards annoyingly.
"All right," Remus gave up, and quickly buttoned his shirt. He grabbed a pair of slacks from the trunk, and slid them on. "I'm coming already."
Soon, the Marauders were complete. All four boys were wide awake, rowdy, loud, laughing, and ready to wreak havoc on the wizarding world. Wands at hand, and devious minds concocting visions of pranks and devilry, the pack was momentarily halted as Sirius paused in the common room to point his wand at the Map and say "mischief managed" under his breath, before they continued on.
Heading out the portal, they cut off a smaller blonde witch, her arms stacked high with books, and cheeks flushed. A volume slid off the top of the pile, and cracked its spine on the floor with a thud.
"C'mon, Moony," James called back, as Remus stopped to pick up the tome for the girl. "We've only got today!"
"And we're not waiting!" Sirius threatened halfheartedly.
Remus watched the other three step into the hallway jovially, and the portrait swung shut behind them. Smirking, he looked back to the witch. "Sorry, you want help?" He held out the book.
She stared at the heavy text for a moment, before looking back to Remus. "Erm, no thanks. I mean, thank you, but just set that on top."
He hesitated, before laying the book gently where she had told him. By then, the pile of texts reached high enough to nearly block her vision entirely. She would probably end up at the bottom of a staircase somewhere, buried under her homework.
"Are you sure?" He asked, now less inattentive. It would only take a few minutes to walk her to the library, if that was where she was going; he could meet up with the guys after. "Because if you're going to the library, that's on my way."
The girl seemed to consider this, then caved. "All right," she agreed thankfully, tipping the stack slightly toward Remus. He grabbed the top half quickly, and realized just how heavy the work was. Exhaling in relief, the girl smiled at him— she had a pretty face, but not one that he could recall. Her mature facial features made her appear to be an upperclassman, possibly even a seventh year, but he was certain he would recognize her if she was, being at that level himself. And the workload was equal to that of a fifth year's studies for O.W.L.s, so that was all he could guess at. "Thank you, Remus," she said politely, and set off for the portrait.
He followed her lead, balancing the textbooks in his arms as he carefully stepped into the hall. Shafts of yellow sunlight drifted in from the clear windows, igniting the deep crevices that ran along the stone walls.
"So, 'Moony,'" she began, after they'd left the common room, and she led them down a corridor to their left. Tidbits of stray conversation echoed from the other direction, the remnants of Remus's encounter with his friends. She gave him a long glance over her shoulder. "That's an odd nickname, from Remus."
Only then did it occur to him that she knew is name already. It wasn't unusual, as being one amongst the self-proclaimed and secretive Marauders called for a certain amount of popularity, but still. It seemed out of place. He wondered where she knew him from.
Remus nodded, with a chuckle. His tenor voice echoed in the empty hall slightly louder than Susan's. "Well, consider the creators of the nickname. They tend to get inventive."
She laughed in agreement, a lightened soprano sound against Remus's more masculine tone, and shifted her books in her arms. "True."
They walked along for a few moments, their footfalls gradually slowing in pace as they reached the stairs, and took extra care in the placement of their steps. It wasn't an awkward silence, more like a distracted one; it didn't deter Remus's mind from lingering thoughts, however.
"So," he started, skipping over the trick step. The heavy books swayed dangerously in his arms, but didn't slide off. "You haven't mentioned your name."
After the words had left his mouth, he realized how painfully obvious the statement was— the girl didn't help too much by cocking an eyebrow in his direction and countering with, "Perceptive, are we?"
Remus felt his cheeks burn a little; he hoped he wasn't blushing. "Well," he fumbled with his words, not wanting to worsen the situation. Too late. "Will you tell me?"
Two older girls passed them, going the other way. They were gossiping quietly as they walked, their bookbags emptied for the weekend.
"Susan," she replied easily, only once the girls were out of sight. Her voice had a subtle change though— if Remus had known her better, he would guess it was defiance laced in her words scarcely, but he didn't make anything of it. Maybe it was just how she spoke. "Susan Albright. And you are Remus Lupin, right?"
"Yeah," he answered. "Susan. Right."
Susan glanced back his way. "Sorry to disappoint, but I have no nickname. I suppose my friends were never quite as inventive as yours."
The two rounded a corner, sidestepping a group of Hufflepuff second years as they raced by. A few of the untidy papers amongst their stacks of texts fluttered, but stayed within their covers. Remus recognized one of the boys, someone he'd met in the Hospital Wing before, but he didn't let his mind wander on the subject. "So, are these for O.W.L.s?"
Susan's eyes snapped toward his for a moment, offense gleaming on the surface for a fleeting second. As soon as it had come, it had gone, as she wiped it from her expression immediately. "N.E.W.T.s. Same as you, Remus."
He did a double-take; that couldn't be right. Susan was a seventh year? He would have known her, met her before. Seen her in the library, eaten meals by her once or twice. No, it definitely couldn't be right; she had a pretty face, and was easy to get along with— if she really was a seventh year, Sirius would have made a pass at her by now. And he hadn't.
How odd.
"Oh," he choked out, caught utterly off guard. "Yeah, that's what I meant," he fibbed, his voice cracking halfway through the sentence. He hated being wrong, almost as much as he hated saying the wrong thing out loud.
"I'm sure," she replied lightly, and Remus found it impossible to distinguish if she was truly displeased or not. If she was, she was an excellent liar.
Coming to a complete stop before the entrance to the library, Susan looked pointedly at the books Remus was holding, and said she would take them back.
"You don't want me to turn them in with you?" he offered, wondering if she was being polite, or was pissed off. Apparently, she wasn't going to make the situation any easier on him.
"No," she said, and pulled out her wand. It was ten inches, made of birch wood, with a core of slivers from a centaur's hoof, and fit her well. She recited 'Alohamora' perfectly, with a skillful swish and flick, and then the books drifted lazily from Remus's arms. He gulped back a sigh of relief as the burden was lifted — he was additionally sore from the expeditions of the preceding day — and instead smoothed his hair awkwardly and stuffed his hands into his pockets. What could he do?
"I can't believe we didn't think of this before," she said, more to herself than Remus. "It's ridiculous. I could have saved you the trip."
"Well, I'm glad you didn't," he offered, and continued after a questioning look was directed his way. The determination within him to right his blundering had grown out of hand to the point of being silly. "If you had, then we wouldn't have met in the first place."
By the brief look on Susan's face, that wasn't the right thing to say at all; she wrinkled her nose slightly, as if considering commenting on her opinion. Nearly decided, she started. "Remus..." she said, not meeting his eyes. "I— well, I mean... Remus, we've met before."
That was almost the worst. Then, she continued. "Twice."
His heart dropped. "Oh."
Oh. Oh? After all that, 'Oh.' was the best he could come up with?
Think, Remus, he scolded himself, thoroughly embarrassed.
Thankfully, Susan saved him from needing any more of an answer. "It's all right, it happens a lot," she gave a reassuring smile. "Three times now with you, actually. I am glad we met, though— maybe we will meet again."
That was her goodbye.
Susan had turned abruptly, and set off into the depths of the library, leaving Remus to ponder his own stupidity, and wonder how such a polite task had become so shamelessly massacred. He shook his head... he needed to think some, to talk. This was entirely too much, considering he was tired, hungry, and it was the morning after a transformation.
Then, Remus remembered that he had three friends to think aloud to, and some impatient Marauders waiting to manage some mischief.
"What took you so long?" asked Sirius, as a flustered and windblown Remus hurried across the grounds toward the Whomping Willow. His dark brown hair needed a trim, hanging to the edges of his eyebrows, and the tips were picked up slightly by the breeze has he ran. Having a naturally athletic body, the short-lived jog didn't so much as make his breaths a little quicker, yet he found himself slightly pursy when he arrived.
There were so many possible ways to answer this question, but Remus picked the simplest and least obvious one: "Nothing."
"She was pretty," Peter said, and Remus found himself overwhelmed with the temptation to hex Peter within an inch of sanity. Just one diversion was all he needed, or his state of affairs could become ludicrously overblown; it happened often, with his friends and their prying minds.
"Yeah," Remus agreed smoothly, as he forced his breaths to calm down and appear nonchalant. The happenings of the morning were, at their best, meaningless, yet he couldn't bar them from his mind; he'd actually met her, twice? It was impossible. Truthfully, Remus had his share of memory-lapsed moments, but he would definitely recall her face or name. Anyone, even. This just didn't happen, ever.
'It's all right,' she echoed in his head, that forgiving smile on her face still. 'It happens a lot.'
No, it just doesn't. It didn't make any sense at all— nobody could be that forgettable, especially not the pretty, friendly Susan.
"That good, huh?" Sirius wondered, a suggestive tone in his voice. His arms were crossed, once again, this time with the sleeves rolled up to welcome the springtime weather.
Remus gave him a questioning look, but didn't know how to answer. At this, Sirius laughed.
"Mate, you've got it bad," he said to him, clapping his hand onto Remus's sore shoulder. "And you've only just met her, too."
"Yeah," Peter added in. "It's almost as bad as Prongs."
Doing a double-take from one speculative face to another, Remus couldn't help but feel ambushed. What was this?
When Remus hesitated to answer, Sirius sighed in annoyance. "Moony, you just got that same expression Prongs gets, whenever we mention Lily."
At that, James snorted inappreciatively... soon after, the rebelliousness in his features melted into a distracted gaze.
"No," Remus shook his head in denial. "No, I just grabbed her stuff, that's all. She needed help," he continued, as if they wouldn't believe him... which they didn't. "And I was just thinking about N.E.W.T.s."
It was altogether too much, over such a trivial ordeal. Too much thinking, too much talking and arguing.
Well, he supposed it was just that; nothing major, just helping a girl to the library. There were a lot of pretty girls at Hogwarts, some he was sure that were open to the idea of dating himself, but the truth was that Remus wasn't certain he could even handle a relationship. Between monthly expeditions, N.E.W.T.s, and just being a Marauder, he hardly had the time or energy to spare.
Not only that, but, well, it would be likely that a girl expected her boyfriend to be patient and understanding about her monthly issues... it wasn't likely that she would understand Remus's in return.
"She would make a fine candidate for Moony's first, wouldn't you agree, Prongs?" Sirius said, smirking.
A hot blush crept into Remus's cheeks and burned the back of his neck. Okay, so he never actually got around to even trying a date. Well, so what? Neither had Peter.
With a defeated sigh, Remus realized that wasn't his best argument.
"Uh huh," James said, somewhat sarcastically. "Enough of this, let's go."
Soon, the boys were enveloped in the adventure and challenge of hitting the knot on the Whomping Willow to open the passage, and Sirius and Peter were too busy dodging its limbs to see the grateful look Remus spared James for bailing him out, and the "No problem," James mouthed in return.
The seventh-year girls of Gryffindor were, in all respects, a clan that was recognized by James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter as the 'Anti-Marauders.' To some in the school, it fit. To others, it didn't. It was easy to label the students as equals and opposites, even within their own houses, but at the same time it was incredibly difficult. When the four boys were hexing Severus Snape, nicking goods from the stores in Hogsmeade, or vacant from the Hogwarts student body entirely, the five girls were moral-conscious, friendly and model students. Where the Marauders were causing trouble, there was likely to be one of their female equivalents speaking out against them. Well, that was Lily, anyway.
She stepped into the girl's dormitory tiredly, after a friendly 'good night' had turned into a frivolous spat with James over the idea of practicing experimental hexes on the underclassmen, to which he and his friends were very inclined. Her long, wavy red hair was pulled back into a fiery braid, which was slung loosely over her shoulder, and she fingered the end of it casually as she slumped into her bed. The jade green pajamas she wore complemented her thick hair beautifully, and brought out the green in her eyes; probably not an accidental combination, as she'd donned it just before she had run down to the common room in the first place.
Milynn, with her nicely tanned skin and curly black hair, was flipping through a magazine with a bored expression on her face. She'd already wasted an entire lonely hour of her evening, and still only Lily had arrived. No greeting was exchanged between the two.
Naturally, Lily was followed closely by the other three girls, who had each looked up in time to watch her leave the common room. Unnoticed by their fellow Gryffindors, they vacated to their dormitory, where they got dressed and ready for bed quickly; they had been anticipating this highlight to their evening through the entire afternoon.
"So, how was your day?" Susan began politely to the room, as she always did. Her hair was thrown into a hasty knot, which Lily noticed was actually a very pleasing look on her, but she refrained from saying so.
"Mine was quite fun, actually," Cassan answered readily, from Susan's left. The five young women were sitting in an oval on the floor, select magazines scattered in the middle and caramel dip being passed around with apple slices, as they avoided spilling caramel onto their pj's. "Brogan took me to Hogsmeade, and bought me lunch. Then we went to the Shrieking Shack..." her expression fell. "But the boys interrupted." She finished with a perturbed expression, and looked pointedly at Lily, who smiled sheepishly.
"What can I say?" she said, excusing her boyfriend and his comrades. "I find it endearing."
Cassan snorted, and reached out for a copy of Witch Weekly. "Endearing to you, annoying to others."
Douceline snickered, as she took a bite of an apple slice and passed the dip to Milynn. "I'm going to take this chance to intervene," she cut in, before Lily could counter. "Come on, it's the Circle. This is supposed to be our escape of mindless drama, right?"
They all agreed. It was their way of staying sane, with the pressures of school, relationships, and being a teenage girl crashing down upon them. Every Saturday night, they would meet with snacks and magazines, and talk. Be girls. It was all they did, and yet it essentially saved them from nervous breakdowns— the Circle was a tradition that each of the five girls looked forward to after a stressful week, a family away from home to welcome them always. Since the beginning of the Circle mid-first year, not a single Saturday had been missed.
And their family was a beautiful one. They were so different in their elegant appearances.
There was Lily, who had been blessed with striking features; she had high, prominent cheekbones and a faded brushing of tan freckles across her straight, narrow nose. Not to mention her hair and eyes, and overall slender build.
Cassan, who was a tiny person in general, barely reached the height of most students' shoulders, yet managed to stand out in a crowd. Cassan's brunette hair was curled into delicate ringlets around her sweet, round face, and contrasted with her cerulean eyes. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, when her timetables didn't include any strenuous activity or run-ins with dangerous creatures, she would be seen wearing a pair of golden hoop earrings almost large enough to levitate a bread roll through... this had been attempted on multiple occasions, by the pesky Gryffindor boys.
Milynn was another kind of beauty entirely— the darkened tones of her skin and more average build gave her an exotic outlook, especially when paired with her long and straight black hair. Her irises were practically black, but in the light they glowed a magical purple color. She preferred to line those eyes thickly with ebony ink, which only strengthened the image.
Douceline's beauty was more difficult for the other students at Hogwarts to distinguish. Her pallid complexion carried no hint of blush or color, aside from the wild assortment of shades she often painted onto her eye's lids, typically to match whatever streaks she had magicked into her hair that morning. Not to give an impression that she grew the same luxurious, well-kept locks that the other four did— when arriving at the platform on September first of that year, her friends had been shocked to find their Douceline sporting shoulder-length, braided dreadlocks. She had stuck to the style throughout their entire seventh year, and as the students grew accustomed to the style she'd taken to tying the braids back in a ponytail, where they stuck out crazily from her head. Then, coming back from the Christmas holiday, the girls found a new surprise in the form of Douceline's brand new, silver-hooped nose ring.
Then there was Susan, who didn't care so much about her representation as her intelligence, and preferred to stay laid-back. Her idea of dressing up would be wearing her plain blonde hair with an even plainer black headband, at which her friends would wince and try to ignore. She was naturally pretty; not outstanding in any fashion, but pleasant to look at. Her hazel eyes were fringed with chestnut-colored lashes, and a faint pink blush crept in at the corners of her cheekbones. Susan wore no nose ring, didn't have fiery red hair or splendid curves, and lacked the ability Cassan maintained to create striking features from plain ones with a touch of makeup; truly, she preferred not to wear it at all. The only piece of jewelry she wore was a delicate silver ring on her right pinky finger, with a swirl of pearl and alexandrite at its center. It had become a habit to wear, given by her late grandmother as a birthday gift... it was the wrong birthstone.
"Well, I went out and practiced," Milynn said. She was a beater on the Gryffindor quidditch team, with a skilled fifth-year named Charlotte Rowles. "Only a few people came, which was disappointing. We really need to get the team together— I mean sure, we have James, but the rest of us are beginning to look rusty."
While Lily nodded appreciatively, Cassan shook her head. "I thought you guys looked great, that last match."
The gazes of their audience shifted back to Milynn, who shook her head back. "We need more practice. We won't look nearly as impressive against Slytherin as we did against Hufflepuff, I can assure you."
Nodding their heads respectively, Susan and Lily looked to each other. "I've noticed that we're the only ones studying for N.E.W.T.s," Lily acknowledged, dipping an apple slice into the caramel Milynn was holding. She nibbled on the end. "You three should really get started, if you want to survive."
At this, Milynn snorted. "I would be more concerned about you two," she said. "Carrying all those books up and down the stairs everyday. I've seen you trip twice already, Susan. If you were any klutzier, it would seem that you were determined to end up in St. Mungo's."
"Or determined to get a date with Remus," Douceline added.
"Oh I know," Cassan readily agreed with Milynn, speaking over Douceline. "It's hardly practical. I mean, there you are, walking along, and then—" her thought stopped short, as she realized what Douceline had just said.
The girls' heads all turned in her direction curiously, including Susan.
"What do you mean?" Susan asked, almost unsure she wanted to find out in front of the others.
The looks on Lily's, Cassan's, and Milynn's faces told Douceline they were interested too. She flipped a page in her magazine nonchalantly, and fiddled with the knot on the chartreuse bandanna she had wrapped at her brow. Taking her time with the interruption, she twisted a pink bead that tied one of her dreads. .
"Well," she began, "I just saw Miss Albright here this morning on her way to the library, arms full of books as always, with Mister Lupin helping her along. I swear, I have never seen that kid nervous before, but today something wasn't right." The other girls were hanging on to every word, while Susan raised her eyebrows. "I think that there's something we're all missing, here."
Lily, Cassan, and Milynn looked back to Susan expectantly.
"Are we missing something?" Lily inquired, suspicious.
"Definitely," Cassan answered for her, completely immersed into the juicy details of her friend's love life. Or, more correctly, her deficiency of one.
"She's shining you on," Susan said of Douceline, who was examining her nails, and touching up her manicure with her wand. There was almost a trace of disappointment in Cassan's eyes, but she blinked it away persistently. "Sorry, but he just offered to carry some books. And like you said, unless I wanted to break my neck on my way to the library, I had no choice but to accept."
"Oh, we're sure," Douceline continued. "Do you realize, Susan, you just got that same expression Lily gets, whenever we mention James."
Lily shot a glare at Douceline, but it was short-lived— it quickly faded into a dreamy gaze, staring at nothing in particular. "Well, she did say she had no choice," she defended.
Milynn crunched into her apple slice, smacking her lips together. "'No choice,'" she mocked. "I'm sure. Any girl with eyes and half a brain could see that Remus is a catch. And you know what? He never dates. That just makes him all the more attractive."
"And available," Cassan pointed out, a girlish eagerness in her voice. The others glanced her way fleetingly, but decided to ignore the statement. Susan shook her head.
"You guys have no idea." She told them, and looked down at a copy of Witch Weekly that featured a band she hadn't heard of. "Even if there could be something, I hardly think either of us would go for it. It's just not right."
"Are you kidding? It's perfect," Lily gushed, growing excited. "I mean, think about it; you two are both smart, sweet, Gryffindors, and you both want to study Advanced Indefinite Lycanthrope after Hogwarts."
Susan turned to her. "Really? Will he be applying for Creatura Bulla?"
Shaking her head, Lily elaborated. "I have no idea, but if it's the best, probably. He could get it, too— he never gets lower than an E on anything. I'm telling you, if you dated, you two would be the couple of the school."
They couldn't help but concur with all of Lily's points; Remus was one of the three 'It' boys of Hogwarts for their year. James was taken by Lily, Sirius had grown into the collective portrayal of a lady-killer, and Remus was the intelligent, well-rounded friend. The fact that they, along with Peter, never left each other's sight was unnerving for prospective dates.
Of course, when Remus's lack of remembrance over his multiple meetings with Susan was contributed, it was an entirely different position to view from; sure, other girls at Hogwarts stood an even chance with Remus, who was always polite and would give some attention to those who craved it, but it only proved that Susan was unmemorable, and he would probably take that to mean she wasn't worth the time.
"We may have to do something about your hair," Milynn commented. This brought forth exclamations from Lily, who argued that Susan had lovely hair on its own, thank you very much, and contention from the other three with ideas on what could be done. Susan watched the scene play out contentedly, letting her peaceful mind rove over the imaginative ideas of curls and chops, far away from any lingering thoughts on the distracting Remus Lupin.
Author's Note: Hello, I'm padfoot240. :) Thank you for taking the time to read my first chapter! This story is written for the Strange Title/Banner challenge by A Fountain Pen at the forums at HPFF. However, I would love to know how I am doing (though it is not likely I will make the deadline) so if you could please leave a review, that would be much appreciated. As much as I prefer detailed critiques for reviews — I don't mind harsh opinions, as long as it gives me something constructive to work with — even a short good/bad or rating would be nice. I don't know about too many of you, but I choose what I read mostly on the number of reviews the story has, so anything to up the digits is gratifying. Also, I will try to read your work and give helpful reviews in return. ;)
Also, please know that I am listed under the same name at HPFF, and as moony240 at their forums.
Thank you readers, and thank you A Fountain Pen, for the banner and idea. :