CADY'S POV


Secrets.

Known by only a few people and intentionally withheld from general knowledge.

Secrets hold our structure together, weave a complicated pattern that serves as the safety net for society.

Deep I know, but I just finished reading Jane Austen, shoot me.

Really, it should be illegal to be so deep and thoughtful. It could only lead to my demise. And all those around me. Maybe even a couple Slytherins who might have pissed me off in the past… Yes, that sounds right about perfect…

"Cady," I whipped my head around and almost smashed right into the way too close face of Remus Lupin. As I was almost certain I could pick out every single one of his freckles. Weird. "What are you doing?"

"Hmm?" I managed, frowning in confusion. I only had to glance once at my wet parchment to know what he meant.

I'd been drooling.

Yep, shoot me now.

"Ugh," I grimaced – in what I was certain was an oh-so gorgeous fashion – and flicked my wand at it. Even in the face of embarrassment – complete and utter embarrassment I might add – I still wasn't about to give away my wandless abilities. It was definitely a conversation that needed more explanation than could be had in History of Magic.

"Yeah, exactly what I was thinking," turning my sexy – or not so sexy – glare at the boy, wishing I could simply hex the Gryffindor and his idioticness (yes, that is now a word). It would only take a second, even just a flick of my hand would give me enough time to give him a serious case of the hives. Non-verbally of course. And if anyone were to witness my little display, it would surely only take a few moments for me to completely Obliviate every student in the classroom… Really, probably only under thirty seconds really, even less if I was really on the ball... I could even plant a couple interesting stories in their heads for good measure, you know, to cover my bases and everything. And it's not like old Dumbly could get mad or anything, only proud. After all, that would be rather impressive. Even for me…

"Did you hear anything I just said?" I coughed discretely into my hand as I averted my eyes, pretending to be studying the black board. This tactic however, would have been much more successful had there actually been something written on the board. But regretfully, the world and Merlin seemed to be against me. For reasons I'm sure I'll never understand…

"Yes, of course," was my simple answer. Surely he didn't expect a straight answer. A lie was a given.

"Right, and what was I saying?" typical Remus, trying to outsmart the smartest witch of our age. Foolish really, as he'd only get himself caught. Sure, I hadn't heard a single thing he'd just uttered, but I had other tricks up my cloak sleeve.

"That I should really be paying attention to when the professor speaks, as you are almost positive that Goblin wars would be on the final exam," I took this moment to now look up at him, that complete blank 'dare me' look I'd perfected so well over the years. Men were useless against it. "Oh, and that I should at least take the time for a nap like a normal human being instead of simply daydreaming, much more productive."

The next moment was not one I was unfamiliar with. I'd seen this exact expression on many before, not reserved for the boy in front of me. Though this particular bloke had held that expression many times before, it was hardly his fault. With a little help from my advanced Charms work and mild Legilimency, it was hardly strenuous to discover what he'd said.

After all, I'd learned from the master of deception and trickery.

"Oh, alright then," he paused a moment to glance down at his notes, almost as if planning his next attack. Which I suppose could be very possible, as he was obviously the brains behind the whole 'Marauder' extravaganza. It wasn't like Potter, Black or Pettigrew could do any good. "Then I suppose you also heard me mention the test we have next class."

"I was sure you said quiz," I shot back without missing a beat, this time no trickery involved. At this point, I was simply blowing smoke, and praying on Merlin's moss covered grave that he didn't call me out. I could only hope the Sorting Hat had the right intentions putting the boy in Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw, as that was really my only hope.

"Oh, alright then," he repeated, his voice getting more dejected. I felt sorry for the bloke, as it was hardly his fault that he'd picked the wrong fight. It was like challenging James Potter to a non-verbal duel, nothing good could come out of it. You were doomed to failure, no matter which clever plan you thought of to succeed.

So with this settled, we moved into an amicable silence, working respectively. History of Magic was surely not the most interesting subject, but it was a hell of a lot better than talking to this Neanderthal on my right.

~C~

My hand was aching. I swear to whatever god the wizarding world prays on that I'd never experienced such pain. Three bloody inches. Three inches! It was insanity! Complete lunacy! Madness I tell you!

And yes, thesauruses are very helpful.

But that is hardly the point. I just spent the complete last block writing. Nonstop. My fingers will bloody fall off if I'm to write another word! I couldn't even fathom lifting my poor bruised limb without harming several of my precious brain cells. Or possibly my magical structure… Yes, that's sounds right. If I write just one more word, I'll simply lose all my powers. Poof, there goes the wizarding world. No savior for you. You can go ahead and blame Professor Walrus, or rather Professor Slughorn, the almighty host of the 'Slug Club'.

Bloody arsehole.

There was surely no real reason for the man's talent. Why would anyone possibly waste such genius on a man like him? He was simply an old round wizard, hoping to scrap up a few of the better things in life before he keels over. Those better things in life being crystallized pineapple and gift baskets from Gwenog Jones.

Yes, the man was definitely full of himself… And many various Honeydukes products.

But nonetheless, he was a professor, therefore permitted to give out lengthy essays that took far too long for far too pointless subjects. Really, who gave a flying Bludger about the density of a rat's tail? Or the viscosity of liquid luck? No one, that's who… Unless that no one had either greasy black hair and last name sounded like a reptile or fiery red head and had gone to calling a certain Potter an 'insufferable toe rag', that is.

"Oh, stop complaining," Shellie groaned out as she too rubbed her wrists, for some reason reading my mind… Or maybe simply actually listening to my grumbled complaints… Yes, that was fairly possible.

"Oh, shove it, you know it hurts," I winced as I touched a soft spot on my forearm, wondering how writing could possibly physically scar me. "Now what do we have next?"

"Free," I nodded silently as we continued our way down the hall, both of us drained of life and cheer… Or rather just any excitement or joy we might have had that morning, only to be replaced of course with sheer boredom and extreme wrist pains.

"You off to the Come 'n Go?" she nodded and smiled sheepishly, knowing how she was once again ditching me. There was a point we'd been given all the same classes that year, and it was not meant for her to skive on me and go on her little 'artistic adventures'. Really, I would hope that I was much more interesting…

Though really, I wouldn't want to hang out with me either.

"Well I suppose I'll go bug Lupin," I said, sighing deeply in an attempt at guilt. However, her mind had already seemed to have wandered and I deemed the whole thing a failure. If she wasn't even going to pay attention to little old me, there was hardly anything I could do. "Or maybe Pettigrew, he's always a laugh."

And that I did. As I entered the common room, having split off with Shellie at the third floor, I was grateful – for lack of a better word – to find all four marauders lounging around the fireplace. You'd think they didn't have any studying to do, as if they weren't about to be taking the hardest tests of their lives at the end of term… No instead, they were simply taking time to 'hang out', or whatever you'd like to call this pathetic display of comradery.

"'Ello boys," I chirped as I plopped into the empty seat next to Potter, grinning at them all. I wasn't particularly close to any of them, minus Lupin. We sat next to each other in practically every class after all, as most every teacher thought it a good idea. Apparently Lupin was meant to 'whip me in shape'….

Dumbledore hadn't exactly gotten around to telling them that I'm a bloody genius. Shame, really.

"Berkeley," Black and Potter greeted in perfect unison, Pettigrew's squeak of a greeting coming three seconds too late. "What a pleasure," this was Black who finished it, grimacing in a way that still looked quite attractive on the bloke. Unfair to all the other males on the planet, honestly.

"Likewise," for some reason, this was what most of my interactions with the pureblood gone bad were. We were ever so civil, never a comment out of place. The only expression of our mutual semi-dislike for each other shown on our faces. A grimace there, a glance here. Nothing substantial, really.

"You need help with Muggle Studies?" I turned to Remus as he asked this, shaking my head.

"Nah, just bored," I responded, twirling my wand lazily in my fingers. Ignoring Pettigrew's slightly creepy gaze, I looked up at the ceiling lazily. "Shellie's off somewhere."

"Taylor?" I nodded at Potter's exclaimed question as to who the mysterious 'Shellie' was. He most certainly knew who she was, as she was rather hard to miss. I could understand fully if they hadn't a clue who I was, but are families were all pureblood and it was practically required of us. Most definitely Potter, as we were both 'blood traitors' as they said. But my dear Shellie was not a wallflower like myself. No she was most definitely the annoying flashing neon sign, glaring at you through the pitch black avenue. That was her, screeching and flickering, one of the letter's hanging on a weak wire, threatening to crush anyone who dare walk beneath it.

"What's she doing?" I shrugged, only slightly aware of the looks all three boys shot at Lupin, his eyes glued somewhere above my shoulder.

"Dunno, probably that stuff she calls 'art'," I was a little bewildered as I watched each of them frown in confusion, as if trying to solve a difficult problem.

It was Potter who finally broke the silence.

"So she's not very good then?" it took me several moments to get what he meant, and once I did, I gasped in surprise shaking both my hands and head.

"Oh no, that's not what I meant," I hurried through, not wanting them to go spreading this around. "She's fabulous I'm sure, but I'm just not the artsy type," I looked at each of them and didn't continue until I saw all their nods. "Never have and never will get art or any form of art… Well I mean visual arts, I get music," I was definitely the first time I'd found myself so flustered and babbling like I was, and I wasn't particularly pleased with the idea. Never had I ever felt so hurried and uncollected, and by the expressions of the boys in front of me, they'd never once witnessed it either.

"Oh," was all that escaped them, all nervously glancing at each other as if I was about to mentally combust. Great, now I've succeeded in convincing the Marauders of all people that I'm completely insane.

Cady: 0; Mental Instability: 1

~C~

It was practically inevitable that the rest of my week would be of a similar fashion. MI was gaining on me fast and it was slightly frightening. I swear I've never seen a score board so off balance before. It was like its 40 could eat my 1.

Yep, that's right, I got one.

It was on one not so fine day in Herbology that the miracle came upon me in the form of a particularly ill Sirius Black. Apparently in their excitement to pot the Poison Snapper, they'd refrained from putting on the goggles. Potter had been lucky to have had amazing Quidditch reflexes and had dodged the poison needles with ease. Black was not so lucky.

But before Professor Sprout could get herself in a mess, I flicked my wrist ever so discretely in the boy's direction. His cheeks instantly regained color and the boils that were beginning to form on his forehead vanished without anyone the wiser. If it wasn't for the fact that I was currently competing against my insanity, I might have left him as he was just for the laugh. I can only imagine what the droolers would do if they found their handsome Sirius Black covered in boils…

A laugh indeed.

"Stop daydreaming," I stuck my tongue out at the annoying being that was Lily, barely having enough wits left from my magnificent display of awesomeness in Herbology to come up with a witty reply.

"As if you can talk," snorted Eva from across the room, her eyes glued to her nails. If you could get nail polish overdose, Eva was definitely in danger. If for every bottle of nail polish she used I got a penny, I'd be doubly as rich I swear. She just never stops! It's like she buys the stuff in bulk from some creepy man in an alley, all of it off the black market or something… I truly and honestly, would not be surprised.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lily's voice was accusatory and her green eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, my cue to back away slowly. There was only one thing that came out of an angry Evans, and it usually involved someone being severely injured.

"Now Lils, I'm sure she didn't mean it that way," I began softly, holding out my hands as I discretely backed up onto my own bed. But it was too late, she'd already whipped out her wand, her hair seeming to glow in rage.

"Furnunculus!" rang through the room in Lily's high pitched voice, making both me and Shellie cringe in fear. We knew all too well what was to come next, as we'd seen it happen time and time again. And even a few of the times, we'd been on the receiving end.

We watched in silent horror as boils and pimples spread across Eva's normally immaculate face, her eyes clamped shut in what I was sure was fear. It wasn't just me and Shellie who'd been under the influence of one of Lily's many hexes, and Eva most likely knew it better than either of us. The red head apparently didn't quite get the 'friendly' part of friendly teasing, and managed to blow her top at Evangeline more than once a week… It was frightening really.

"Oh no! Oh no!" I cringed once more at the even higher pitch Eva's voice seemed to gain, and I wondered if they'd all had a helium party while I was gone. "Oh no, no, no…" the rest of us simply rolled our eyes as we deemed the situation not worthy of our concern, knowing the blond would manage on her own. She was most likely the most over reactive witch in the whole bloody school, as she was known to claim certain death at the sight of an empty shampoo bottle. "I was going to meet Eric tonight! I can't go out like this," at these last words, I completely tuned her out and made my way back to my bed, ready for another night in the dorms.

I hummed softly as I pulled out the first thing I could reach in my trunk. I happened to pull out my old History of Magic book from way back in fifth year and gave in to my sheer boredom. It was better than nothing, at least.

So setting myself up crossed legged in the middle of my bed, I continued my humming and started my reading. The words on the page started to morph into lyrics in my head, looping into the melody and forming strong backups and smooth harmonies. Soon enough I was through a bridge and had a solid chorus, all forming a song I never knew I had in me. "And I, don't know how, to slow it down," I muttered softly to myself, knowing my dorm mates wouldn't mind as they were all too used to it. "My mind's racing from chasing pirates." I continued my gentle humming as I ignored the still ranting Eva. It was just another day in the Gryffindor girl's dormitory; I hadn't really expected anything different…


AN- I apologize profusely for the long wait and short chapter. I spent all of November writing a novel, so it's been a bit hectic lately. Also, I was feeling a bit down in the dumps with the lack of interest in Shimmer, so it all added up to a very long time. I give you all cookies for the horrible job of updating I've been doing.

Also, I do not own Chasing Pirates by Norah Jones.