PREVIOUSLY ON "LOVE AND OTHER DISASTERS": Lily Evans and her best friends Mary MacDonald, Nicole Roux, Isabel Bryant, and Dorcas Meadowes plus the Marauders finish their sixth year with a small party; where Mary and Remus kiss, Isabel and Sirius snog, and James Potter almost kisses Lily Evans. Lily, feeling awkward, says something mean. Everyone leaves from Kings Cross the next morning and summer begins.
Garden Parties and Badges
"And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer."
― F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
(James Potter)
It must be sometime past midnight. I think, inhaling deeply on the cigarette between my fingers.
As I let the smoke fill my lungs and blow out, I inspect the cigarette in my fingers.
I didn't usually smoke. It makes your lungs feel weak, and I couldn't have that for Quidditch. I used to tell Padfoot this all the time, him being a beater and all, and he'd just smirk and smoke it anyway.
But tonight, I found myself sitting out on the field of the Potter manor, my family home, smoking a cigarette like any other bloke. Maybe it's because I'm sulking.
Pity party for one, please!
I recline against a large, sturdy branch behind me, poking a leaf with my toe. My broomstick sits on a few branches lower down on the tree.
I've always liked flying. It's sort of cleansing. Something possessed me to fly myself up and watch the stars from the top of the oak tree.
Insomnia does weird things to people.
I lean my head back, breathing out slowly. The sticky summer air was suffocating, but up here the air was cooler. A slight breeze blew, rustling my pajamas and the leaves on the tree.
I look up into the sky. A large, white marble moon stares me in the face.
I can't help feeling a rush when I see the full moon. A rush of what? I couldn't say. Anticipation… anxiety… thrill? I'm not sure.
It seemed horrible to say it, because it always came doubled with terror, but our adventures on the full moons at Hogwarts were some of the most exciting times I've had with my mates.
But whenever we part ways for the summer, I always worry about how Remus is doing during the nights when the moon is full. I'll never forget the first time I ever saw him in the hospital wing after.
He'd been so torn up, so lifeless… he looked dead. Needless to say it petrified fourteen-year-old James.
Sirius, Peter and I all act like we've gotten used to it, and we don't treat it like a big deal. I think it helps Remus to have us treat it this way.
Truth be told, it still cuts me up, seeing him like that. You'd think after months of doing this, I would actually be used to it, but I'm not. I don't think I ever will be.
I take another long exhale. I can hear someone singing far off in the distance, and a faint mumble of tired goodbyes.
"Goodbye Potter." My mind echoes.
I can almost hear her harsh voice in the night.
I must be mental. Any other bloke in this situation would have had the sense to move on.
But every single bloody night, besides the ones where I'm so pissed I can't see a foot ahead of me, all I can see is her.
Over and over again I keep hearing
"When are you going to get this into your head?"
"I don't like you."
"I would rather go out with the giant squid than you."
"It's never going to happen."
"I hate you."
It makes my heart contract, makes me feel like I was beaten by the Whomping Willow. Lily Evans, "girl of my dreams", rejected me for the last time.
I can't say why this one counted so much as the others. Maybe because this time I had unhealthily gathered up hope. I thought we'd been getting somewhere…
I feel myself self-wallowing, and tried to shake it off. Getting on my broom again, I fly down to the large porch wrapping around the left side of the house.
This year I'll forget. This year I'll leave her alone.
I'll move on.
"Good lord. It smells like something died in here."
I open my eyes blearily to find the cause of the noise, and found my mother, hands on her hips, staring back at me. She's wearing a robe, but her makeup is done. Her hair is sort of frazzled, and I bite back a laugh. She stands by the door, looking down at us, her face a mix of weariness and anger.
"When did you boys come back last night? I was up waiting half the night! You had your father and I worried –"
"Mmpfh not so loud." mumbles a lump of sheets. Sirius' black hair is the only thing poking out of the cucoon.
This only makes my mother angrier.
"Now –" she starts, louder than before. "If you boys would be so kind, please get ready. We've only got an hour left!"
And she strides out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
I turn over on the bed and stare at Sirius.
Merlin, it did smell like something had crawled in and died in here. I quickly plugged up my nose and stared up at the ceiling.
"An hour left till what?" He asks guiltily. I shrug.
Pealing myself off the bed and stretching up near the window, I see my mother and father watching some wizards with their wands pointed and a tent lifting into the air. The room I'd ended up crashing in, which was actually unofficially Sirius', was toward the back of the house, and out the window is a clear view of the gardens. Right now, there are more and more wizards coming to join the ones lifting a tent, all wearing a white uniform with the words "Celebrationem Domini Catering" on them.
My mother is barking something at one of them, a skinny wizard with brown hair, who just looks confusedly at my father. He extends them a sympathetic look before patting my mother on the back and walking toward the hill.
"Bugger." I mutter to myself. "Padfoot, today's that garden party for the Ministry."
He stares at me for a moment, groans, and turns back over onto his stomach.
My father is an Auror, working for the Ministry of Magic. He's got the job of rounding up criminals and sending them to Azkaban. When I was younger, I used to sit with him in front of the fire and listen to him talk about his training and whatever latest criminal he'd nabbed.
Unfortunately, along with these action-packed adventures, ludicrous garden parties to celebrate random dates that were supposed to be important to the Ministry were also a part of the job. At least for those at my father's status.
I feel my stomach grumble. My muscles feel sore, but I push myself to keep my eyes open.
My head is still pounding like mad as I walk through the door and into the loo.
Looking into the mirror, I come face to face with a corpse-like version of myself. My eyes were still bloodshot and my hair was even worse than it usually is. Not to mention I could smell my own disgusting breath, and I could barely stand up before blue stars clouded my vision.
There's no sense trying to make it stay flat, I thought. running my hands through my hair. Might as well leave it.
After brushing my teeth at least three times, I pad back from the loo, groping the walls of the hallway as I go, and I try to focus on a fixed point to stop my head from spinning.
This was going to be a long day.
By the time I get back to the room, he's gone back to sleep.
"Oi! Padfoot!" I say, nudging him with my foot. His grey eyes open again and he looks rather annoyed. But still, he starts to sit up.
His eyes still look a little hazy and unfocused, and under his eyes are dark purplish bags. He licks his dry lights before yawning.
"Merlin's beard… that was some night." He said, grinning, rubbing his chest.
Last night we'd gone out to a club in Muggle London. Sirius knew about it from a Muggleborn by the name of Joe something, fresh graduate from Hogwarts. I don't remember much… the music was loud… I remember a girl with short blond hair kissing me and grabbing my hand… and sometime after midnight I think I remember Padfoot emerging from the back room with two girls, before grasping him by his arm and apparating us home…
"I guess." I said, shrugging.
"Come on mate." Padfoot said, kicking my shin. "That blond bird was fit. Lucky she didn't see me or you wouldn't have gotten so lucky…"
I don't have the energy to say something back, so I just hurl a pillow at his face.
Breakfast was a hectic affair. Elves and other wizard decorators scurried left and right, straightening things and putting up summer-colored streamers (that were enchanted to sway even though the kitchen was dead humid with no breeze). My mother swooped past us multiple times, saying something about cheese, I think. Padfoot sat staring at his breakfast, looking a bit green in the face, while I scarfed down my cereal.
I've got an iron stomach, and that does seem to come in handy when it comes to drinking.
The new house elf, Twink, pulls up the blinds on one of the windows that was previously pulled down by one of the others per Sirius' request, and rays of burning light come streaming into the room.
He tips back accidentally in surprise in his chair, and shields his eyes.
"Bloody hell." He mutters, steadying himself and then going back to playing with his food.
The little elf suddenly starts to shake.
"Twink is sorry, Mr. Black… she didn't mean –"
"It's alright." I say firmly, and smile back at her. She smiles toothily and nervously back before scurrying out of the kitchen.
I go back to my cereal.
When I was younger, I loved parties. All the dramatics and grandeur of it, getting dressed up.
I must have been such a girl.
Don't get me wrong, I still take great pleasure in throwing ragers right under the noses of the teachers at Hogwarts, but these so-called "parties" took all the fun out of everything.
At these events I was expected to be "refined" and "courteous" (which my mother and I both knew I wasn't) and say things like, "Oh hello Mr. Cornfoot, how is your niece, Evanna?" and "Mr. Crouch, I understand that you've just gotten a job at the Ministry, congratulations!" and "Oh, this tea biscuit is utterly scrumptious!"
Ok, maybe not that last one.
But nonetheless, these parties seemed stuffy and boring.
And with the clothes Mum was insisting on me wearing, I was sure to look like a tit.
I looked like a tit.
I'm standing in the middle of the garden in front of Potter Manor, hair slicked back (by my mother) with a tie.
I stand awkwardly with a drink in my hand, surveying the crowd. Seemed to be the same purebloods and ministry officials that came every time.
I don't understand that either. I hear my dad complain all the time about the snobby pureblood families that show up at these things, yet they still insist on throwing parties every time the season changes.
There didn't even seem to be any reason for this one!
I glance around for where Sirius had gotten to, but he was nowhere in sight. My eyes search for someone I know, until finally I see Isabel Bryant, standing in a tight-knit circle with Paisley Parkinson and Emmeline Vance.
The thing you've got to know about Isabel Bryant is that she is first and foremost, a gorgeous girl. In that way that you think she belongs on one of those posters Sirius has stashed away in his suitcase. There's no point in denying the fact that nearly every boy at Hogwarts would jump at the chance to shag her.
Sometimes it seems like she might like me… and you know, her being gorgeous and all…
But see, the thing is, no matter how much I force myself to try to enjoy her deep brown eyes, all I keep thinking about is green –
"James!" I hear her voice call languidly from across the lawn. I put on my best charming smile I've been perfecting for these mundane parties since the age of six, and walk over to her.
"Hello James." Paisley says, biting the straw of her drink with her teeth.
She kind of looks like a constipated toad…
Paisley Parkinson is one of those girls that just seem unappealing. With her brownish-black hair done up in obnoxious pink bows and a fluffy pink dress, I can't help but cringe when she says my name. She's from one of the more Slytherin-heavy pureblood families.
"Hi Paisley." I say. "Vance."
The brown-haired girl who'd been previously gazing off to the left turns her head to me at the sound of her last name.
"Potter." She says, tipping her head in greeting. "'Scuse me." She says abruptly, and takes off at a trot.
"Oh don't mind her." Paisley says, leaning into me, carefully angling her spilling over the top of her dress boobs towards me. I see Isabel silently scoff out of the corner of my eye. "She thinks she might be pregnant. With Ted Tonks' baby. It's quite a scandal, but that's what happens when you get involved with a mudblood…"
"Sorry, I think I see my mother." I say suddenly, and duck away from them. I can't stand spending another minute with Paisley (what kind of a name is that anyway?) and her comments.
And I hate that word. Mudblood. It makes my stomach churn. It makes me think of after the O.W.L.s in fifth year, which just makes my stomach churn more.
I decide to walk down to the side of the hill, mostly out of sight from the party guests.
The sun is at the highest point in the sky now, and I can feel myself sweating through the dress shirt I'm wearing.
I consider sitting down, but I'm pretty sure my mum might murder me if I get grass stains on my arse.
"Subtle escape." I hear Isabel's voice say as she walks up next to me. She's wearing this white dress that looks really nice against her skin. She stands with her hand on her hip, making that sort-of-haughty-sort-of-flirty look.
"How'd you manage to get away?" I ask back.
She smiles, and sidles up next to me gracefully. "Waited for Paisley to make a beeline for the dessert table and then bolted."
"Smooth."
She laughs, throwing her head back and letting her hair fall over her shoulders.
"So, how goes it?" She asks, still sort of giggling.
"Fine." I reply. She looks at me thoughtfully, as if trying to read my mind, and then abruptly turns away.
"Try not to get to down about Lily. She'll come 'round." She says monotonously, as if it was something she felt required to say.
When she says "Lily" it feels like someone had punched me in the gut. Sirius had been smartly avoiding the subject since we'd gotten back from school, and I'd been extremely grateful.
I don't say anything, but merely stare up at the blazing hot sun.
We stand there for a few minutes in silence, me looking up at the sky and her looking at me.
The minutes pass, and she gathers her hair to one shoulder.
"See you James." She says, and starts to make her way back up the slight hill and back to the party.
After a while, the last of the guests had filled out, leaving the elves to clean up the garden.
I watch them through the window in the parlor room, scurrying around in the dark.
I hear sluggish footsteps on the wooden floor outside.
"Oi, Padfoot!"
He walks back from down the hallway and into the room, a grin on his face.
"Prongs."
"Where did you go? I was bored as hell!"
He only snorts. "Caught up with an old friend."
"Who?
He grins larger. "Giselle Greengrass… yes, she's very… friendly." He says.
"So you left your poor bored mate all alone to bone Greengrass? Some friend you are." I say, turning back to the window.
"Hey. Have you seen Greengrass this year? She bent down to pick up a book during Charms last term… and damn." He says, and I can hear the smirk in his voice.
"Alright, whatever." I say, waving my hand at him dismissively. I turn back to the window.
He shakes his head and continues down the hallway.
"Jamie." I heard my mothers voice call from the sitting room. I tear myself away from the window and walk in.
My mum is sitting on the couch, feet up on the footrest and head massaging her head. Her graying hair is still comically perfect, and she still looks ready to entertain guests.
"Did you have a nice time at the party?" She asks hopefully.
"Oh yes." I ask sarcastically, but I regret it when I see her face fall a little. "Well, it was better than those parties the Parkinsons throw. Much more well-put together, more elegant."
That seemed to get her to smile.
"Did you get a chance to say hello to Isabel? Bryant?" She asks slyly.
"Yeah." I say casually, even though I can see her face lighting up.
"She's a very nice girl Jamie." She says, grinning. I just roll my eyes at her, but I can't help smiling too. She's been trying to set me up with Isabel Bryant since I was practically a fetus.
"Come here Jamie, come sit with me." She says, motioning to the couch. I sit down next to her. Her hand reaches out and clasps mine. "Are you alright dear?"
"Yeah, of course mum. Why?"
She sighs. "Well, you returned from Hogwarts in a bit of a funk…"
"Mum, I'm fine." I say, perhaps a little too quickly.
But I am fine. I'm not lying.
I am fine. I'm moving on.
She sighs. "Alright. You don't have to tell me. Just…" She sighs again, with a sad sort of smile on her face. "Try not to take things too hard. Remember, you're just a kid."
I smiled at this. "Mum, I'm seventeen."
She chuckled. "To me you'll always be a baby. Forgive me, I'm old."
"Mum, you're not old." I say, and she just smiles kindly back.
"I'm going to bed now." I say, standing up but then leaning down and wrapping my arms around her. She smells like she always has, like sugar and . "G'night."
"Goodnight sweetheart." She says, and blows me a kiss.
A few days later, I wake up to the sound of an owl hooting from the windowsill in Padfoot and I's room.
I glance down at Padfoot, who manages to still be asleep, hanging half-out of his bed. He grunted about something, and I watched as he fell completely onto the floor before scrambling around for a minute.
His pops up just into view, mumbling something, before falling back onto the floor.
I laugh at him, and sit up. Grabbing the Hogwarts-sealed envelopes from the owl, I kick Padfoot to get him up.
He grunts again, but stands up, hitting me on the back of the head for payback.
"Git." He mumbles, snatching the envelope with his name on it from me.
It's funny, my envelope feels really heavy.
I open it, and something shiny falls out. Before I can blink, Padfoot grabs it off the bed.
His eyes turn into the size of saucers.
He turns a badge-like thing around so I can see…
Holy shit.
"Bloody hell." Padfoot says, and starts cracking up. "Nice job mate! How'd you manage to nick this?"
"What?" I yell, jumping up. "I didn't steal it!"
We both stare at each other for a moment until it dawns on me.
"Funny joke, Pads… fucking hilarious. Now, what poor soul did you steal this from?"
"I didn't send it to you." He says, shaking his head wildly with a giant grin plastered on it.
"There must be a mistake." I say, ripping out the piece of paper from within my envelope.
It's got to be. I mean… aren't Head Boys usually chosen on "extraordinary academic achievement"? I have served well over at least fifty detentions.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected as Head Boy. Please report to the prefect's compartment of the Hogwarts Express on September 1. Your additional information is enclosed.
Good luck.
Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster of Hogwarts
Padfoot falls over back onto his head from laughing so hard.
"You? You? Head Boy?" He manages to choke out before keeling over again. "Is Dumbledore off his rocker?"
The door to our room opens and my mother and father come running in.
"Would you two be quiet? We have guests and –" my mother stops when she sees me clutching the Head Boy badge. "What is that?"
Oh no.
Merlin's saggy left tit…
Her hand reaches over and snatches the letter. Her and my dad read it, eyes zooming over the words.
"Jamie!" My mother shrieks. Padfoot is now collapsed over in the corner.
I hope he chokes. Prick.
"Congratulations my boy!" My dad says, thumping me on the back.
"It's such a great honor! And my boy was chosen!" My mum continues, and gives me an air-constricting hug.
Letting me go, she starts walking out of the room saying, "My little boy! He'll be the first Potter to be head boy in over two centuries! I've got to get you some new robes…"
My father just stands and grins proudly at me, before exiting after her.
Padfoot is still bloody cackling.
"Would you shut up?"
"You know this means we can't do any pranks this year, right?" Remus says surprisingly coherently.
It's the second-to-last night of the summer, and as per tradition since fourth year, the Marauders are all together, getting drunk off our arses.
The four of us are out in the backyard, laying back and staring up at the stars. My dad turned off all the fountains because one year Sirius almost drowned falling into one, and he had to pull him out. Now my dad knows we do this, and just looks reproachfully at all of us before taking my mum out to dinner and warning us not to get into too much trouble.
The backyard is so still though, it's sort of creepy.
"What're ya on abou'?" Sirius says worriedly.
"Wull he's Head Boy." Says Peter, letting out a burp.
Sirius turns over and stares at me.
"Nah, tha' jus' means that we can get away with more!"
A tiny bundle of nerves settles in my stomach. I knew this would become an issue.
And maybe that could have been a thing. But something in me feels almost... honored. To have this much responsibility. I know when people find out, they'll expect me to mess up as soon as I step off the train. Probably before then.
"Pads, I can't."
"What?" He says, somewhere between a whine and a shout.
"I've got a responsibility... uh…"
"When Mooney was a prefect, he let us do shit."
"Yeah, that's cause he didn't have the balls to tell us no." I blurt out. Remus' arm shoots out and hits me in my gut.
"Ow! Sorry, it's true though." I say, rubbing my stomach.
We're all quiet for a while, just listening to the quiet rustle of the leaves and taking long gulps from the bottle passing between us.
"I wonder who's Head Girl…" I say idly, even though I can easily guess.
"Evans, obviously." Remus says. I shift uncomfortably on the grass.
Sirius groans.
"Ughhhh that means this year is gonna be all 'Evans this' an' 'Evans that'." He says, ignoring the scowl on my face.
"It was like that last year regardless." Sirius retorts.
Sirius laughs loudly, as does Remus.
I sigh pathetically.
"It's not like –" I try, but I don't have anything to say.
"You're obsessed mate." Remus says. "It's not healthy."
Merlin's beard, doesn't he know I know that? I know it's not healthy the way I feel about her, the way that I get around her.
But it's not exactly something I can help.
Believe me, I have tried.
I'm still trying. Diligently.
"She told me to leave her alone." I say quietly, moving my arm back and forth, swishing around the liquid firewhiskey in the bottle. "And that's what I'm going to do."
Sirius and Remus share a look that I don't quite understand, and then Peter rolls over onto his stomach.
"Merlin I think I'm going to vom." He says, before rushing off into the dark, clutching his middle.
Sirius sits up and raises his bottle.
"To seventh year, let us continue to pull awesome pranks and bag hot chicks." He thrusts his bottle into the dark blue sky.
"You paint with words." Remus says sarcastically from the ground.
Sirius' head jerks back and glares at Remus, who grins.
"Fuck you, Mooney."
A/N: hello! Did you enjoy the second chapter? PLEASE REVIEWWWW!
Next will be Lily's summer.