Sirius
Whatever notice I gave to her, it was all circumstantial.
She was a small girl, all angles, and had a very breakable look about her. Her hair was dark and massive, tumbling around her like a mane on a lion. It was pretty enough, but she managed to negate the beauty by using her hair as something of a shield, always twiddling it and pretending to have to brush it somewhere or the other – it was a crutch that I found rather annoying in women.
In fact, there was no readily apparent part of her, appearance or immediate personality, that I liked. It wasn't that I didn't like her, it was that I found more enjoyment in being with my friends than I did in wooing girls and even if I had wanted to woo a girl, I wouldn't have chosen her.
It was even bothersome that she had captured my attention at all.
Her name was Ophelia, which was annoyingly complex and lent itself to no easy nicknames. I had spoken to her on several occasions, but none of them were important or memorable. She was forgettable. She was delicate and dainty, even the way she held her quill seemed to indicate that she would balk at harder work.
"Sirius," a familiar voice cut across my thoughts.
I turned my head reluctantly, wondering if she would do something interesting the moment I looked away, and found James Potter staring down at me. His mussed up hair looked more messy than usual, indicating that he'd come from Quidditch practice.
"James," I mocked him, matching the severity in his tone.
James grinned despite himself and reached up to run a hand through his hair. It was his tell-tale nervous tick and I couldn't fathom what about this conversation would make him nervous, not unless his crush was in the room, which I knew she was not. I told him this and watched the smile slide from his face, a tiny frown replacing it.
He sighed at me and said, "I know you're worried, but it seems a bit excessive... all this... watching."
I cut a look to Ophelia, who was still sitting half the room away scribbling away on a bit of parchment and didn't look to have done anything interesting in the last few moments. Frowning at her, I replied, "She either knows or is onto us." At his unchanged expression, I added, "I'm pretty sure she had some sort of schedule in that notebook of hers and I saw her watching Remus the other day."
"If she knows, then she obviously doesn't care," he pointed out, sounding a bit exasperated.
I scoffed. "If she knows, even if she doesn't care, then we ought to nip it in the bud before she gets the bright idea to tell anyone." James opened his mouth, but I knew the retort he would give and interrupted, "And I'm watching her because we can't just tell her in case she doesn't know at all."
His frown deepened and, softer now, James carefully broached a topic we usually shied from, "If you're trying to make up for the incident..." A hot wave of shame threatened to force my head down. I held his gaze, just barely, fear encroaching for a moment as I imagined him telling me that nothing could make up for that night. "...It's all forgiven, you know, you don't have to play guard-dog like this."
Despite the gravity of our conversation, we grinned at one another at the mention of guard-dogs, both of us amused at the casualness of the reference.
"I'm not," I replied then, hesitating, I corrected, "I'm just trying to be more careful. You ought to get the cloak out and join me, maybe together we can figure it out a bit faster."
James glanced over to Ophelia then raised a brow, opining, "She's just a normal bird, all we'd end up catching her doing is going to class and lounging around."
It was at this moment that the portrait swung open and a tall boy ducked through. He held himself with the maturity of someone twice his age, but otherwise looked as normal as any other average sixth year boy. Remus Lupin scanned the room, caught sight of us, and made his way over.
If anything would convince James of my suspicions, then Ophelia's reaction to Remus might be the ticket. Sharply elbowing him – and ignoring the glare of reproach I received for it – I murmured, "Watch her."
Remus took the shortest route to us, cutting directly in front of the couch Ophelia had perched herself on. She looked up at him as he passed, then pulled out a Muggle-notebook and flipped through it. One hand annoyingly fiddled with her hair as she looked from the notebook to Remus' retreating figure several times. Her expression was irritating, I found, as she neither smiled nor frowned... it took a moment to identify that look as thoughtful, which I liked less because I wondered what she was thinking about so intently as she watched my friend.
"Definitely strange," James muttered, finally giving her the suspicious look I was quite sure she deserved.
Reveling in the small victory was not to be, as Remus blocked our view of Ophelia and outright wondered, "What are you all doing, staring at Ophelia Marks like you're a couple of cats who spotted a mouse?"
I shot a look at James, silently communicating, We ought not worry him with this right now.
In reply, his look agreed, Best not to stress him out anymore than he already is.
These looks that spoke volumes were something of an annoyance to Remus, I knew, because he never failed to roll his eyes when he caught us at it. I imagined he felt left out, but it was usually in deference to his furry problem, so I never felt overly bad about it.
James waved the question off, "Sirius here was just contemplating asking her to the Hogsmede visit."
I inwardly cursed this idea and outwardly kicked James' ankle as hard as I dared without it being noticeable. Even if I had wanted to ask a bird out, it wouldn't be her. As it happened, Hogsmede was a bore without James, Remus, and Peter to adventure with and a bird certainly would want to go to all the mundane places that I'd been to a hundred times.
To Remus, I declared, "I dunno about it though."
High hopes that Remus would change the subject were dashed as the sandy haired werewolf turned to spare Ophelia with a lingering glance. I shifted in my chair and furtively tried to look at her – I was becoming concerned that she would notice the three of us giving her these obvious and meaningful looks.
He turned back around and narrowed his eyes, saying, "You never ask girls out. What's new with this one?"
Cursing his perceptiveness, I tried to interject some measure of truth to counter the lack of enthusiasm, and retorted, "She's... caught my eye. I can't seem to shake the thought of her as of late." This caught his attention, as I knew it would, and he gave her another lingering stare.
"She's a sweet girl, don't string her along if you decide you're not interested anymore," Remus bestowed his blessing with, I thought, a hint more reluctance than he ought to have. I watched his face curiously, wondering if, perhaps, he had a little crush... but he didn't bat an eyelash as I stood, nodding, and flashed a purposefully unsettling grin.
James gave me a playful shove and said, "Go on, then. Can't have worse luck than I do with Lily."
Suppressing a scowl, I carefully made my way around various groups playing games or hosting study sessions towards a girl who I had no interest in. I tried not to scowl further when I realized I did have some interest in her – just, not in dating her. Finding out her interest in someone I needed to protect, sure, but spending time in her company was decidedly not something I cared for. Although, I acknowledged, I might need to suck in up in order to accomplish my own goals.
I stood in front of her and frowned. She was leaning against the arm of the couch, her legs drawn up, and one small hand absentmindedly playing with the ends of her hair. I hated that habit the more I watched her. I disliked her petite stature; it wasn't that I didn't like petite girls, it was just that she looked so... weak... as if she were in need of protection. The way she scribbled, those long sloping letters that were frustratingly hard to read when one was trying to spy: everything about her was off-putting.
"Hello," Ophelia said.
It was the first time I'd heard her speak since starting to watch her and I rather resented her high-pitched, sugar-sweet voice. I frowned in response – I was never very good at pretending to be something I wasn't – and tried to smooth out my face.
She gave me a strange look and said, "Hi?"
"Hey Ophelia," I greeted finally, forcibly smiling. Deciding it best to get it over with, I jumped right in and asked, "Hogsmede is tomorrow... I was wondering if you'd like to go with me." I focused on her eyes, which were startlingly blue and hoped my dislike wasn't seeping through. She was pretty, after all, if one liked princess-like girls.
Perfectly groomed eyebrows shot upwards into her massive mane of hair and she frowned, asking, "Don't you go with your mates usually?" She was right – the Marauders usually stuck together, to the exclusion of everyone else. I loathed that she knew that even as a part of me knew that it was common knowledge.
"Yes," I acknowledged, stuffing my hands in the pockets of my robes as I became suddenly unsure of what I normally did with them. "Usually," I admitted again, then found my stride and added, "You're beautiful and I thought I could use a bit of time with someone prettier than James for a change."
Girls had always flocked to me despite my lack of general interest in spending time around them. In fact, I was always sure that my lack of interest had fueled their interest more than deterred it, over the years. If I wanted to, then I could have a girl to snog – or more – within the day. It had not occurred to me that Ophelia might be uninterested, but it was occurring now that she blinked up at me in pure surprise.
She smiled, but it was small and unsure. "You... like me?"
No, I thought to myself. To her, I gently countered, "I don't know you, but I'd like to."
That line seemed to win over and I felt a flicker of guilt as her smile bloomed further.
"That's sweet," she opined, her cheeks flushing red. "I'll go, yes."
"It's a date, then," I said, knowing that my tone was bleak.
Ophelia Marks stood, annoyingly short, and looked up at me. The challenge in her set jaw and sparkling eyes was completely out of character. I had no idea what cause she had to give me that look, but I stared blankly as she flippantly declared, "It's a date."
Ophelia
"Do you want to go to Hogsmede with Lily and I tomorrow?" asked Marlene McKinnion offhandedly, running her hand along short, cropped black hair and peering at herself in the mirror. She wasn't one for primping, but she'd been dating Edgar Bones lately and had gone into the stage where she wanted to always looked good.
I looked up from my notebook, barely managing to register what she'd said. "Aren't you off with Edgar?"
She shook her head and explained, "Promised Lily it'd be a girls weekend."
"Oh, well, I have a date, actually," I was reluctant to tell her this, seeing as girls were prone to making a big deal out of these events, and this date was not a big deal. It was research – insight into a mystery. It was an adventure – horsing around with a known prankster. It was not the kind of date where we shyly traded smiles and tried to calm pounding hearts... not that I was opposed to that with him, just... this didn't seem like the right time.
Sirius Black had been watching me for about three days that I knew of. I wouldn't have noticed had I not been doing the exact same thing. Well, sort of. I'd been watching Remus Lupin more than any of them, but Sirius, James and Peter all had been apart of the careful observation I'd been doing. At this point, I was convinced that Remus was hiding something huge. Becoming seriously involved with Sirius seemed like a conflict of interest when I was already semi-stalking one of his best mates.
Marlene waved a hand in my face and broke my thoughts. "A date? With who?" she asked, her voice pleasantly surprised. "You never go on dates."
"Sirius Black," I told her primly, hoping to look decidedly above the whole conversation.
"Sirius?" She blinked at me, looking confounded. "He's very handsome... exactly your type now that I think of it..." I thought about interrupting her to ask her why she thought that Sirius Black was my type, but stopped myself at the last moment, knowing how over-eager I would sound.
Deciding to get her opinion on the one point that bothered me, I ran my fingers through my hair to untangle it and asked, "He asked me yesterday and said I was beautiful... you don't think my agreeing is leading him on, do you?" At her expression of immediate distaste, I blurted, "I thought it would be fun, he's handsome and funny, but I mostly think he'd make a nice friend."
Marlene tutted at me and chided, "It sounds like he is doing this because he's interested in you, not interested in making a new friend, Ophelia. He's already got friends that he's nearly inseparable from."
I had to admit that she had a point. Why would Sirius Black be watching me if not because he liked me? Why ask me out if not because he was interested in me? As much as this all made sense, I narrowed my eyes as I remembered all the times over the past three days that I'd caught him watching me. Paranoia was probably getting the best of me, but... those long, intense stares hadn't made it seem if he'd liked me. In fact, he was nearly glowering every time I caught his eye; I'd been getting the feeling that I'd either been caught staring too many times or that Sirius Black had developed a distaste for me.
What if he were watching ME because he had noticed my watching HIM? I shouldn't even be so ridiculously caught up in this, yet the thought sounded more likely the more I entertained it... What if he had asked me out in order to investigate a little mystery, same as I?
Of course, I couldn't bounce that idea off of Marlene or anyone else, as no one had a clue that I'd been secretly documenting the comings and going of the sixth year Gryffindor boys. Even if I'd wanted to try and justify my stalking, I couldn't as I had nothing concrete to show for it all.
"I'm sure it'll all pan out," I shrugged dismissively. I'd felt awfully guilty about possibly leading on the handsome Sirius Black, but now that I knew – pretty much knew, anyway – that he was being nearly as devious as I was, I didn't feel very guilty at all.
Marlene stared at me in wonderment, plainly questioning my morals now that I'd dismissed it all so heartlessly, but I was too caught up in my thoughts to notice. "Sure it will," she agreed, her tone suggesting that she did not agree at all.