Four people sat at an elegantly carved table. All four were dressed in fancy robes, all different colors: carnation yellow, forest green, sky blue, and lurid pink. The one in yellow, a woman, was sharpening a knife. The woman wearing the blue robes seemed to be looking distantly at the balcony. The two men appeared to be arguing.
"...you sure?" the man in pink robes queried. He wore a turban on his head, and seemed to have an air of importance around him.
"The owls have been sent, and now there is nothing we can do about it," said the man in forest green, looking frustrated.
"But surely we can send another owl to them, explaining the matter," the man in pink robes insisted.
"Heathcliff, I understand your concern, but they won't allow it. This must be done, otherwise all will perish. I know what you seek."
"You very well know what I am after. Very well, but if anything happens to my son, then…" Heathcliff let the threat hang.
"I understand the consequences. Don't worry, your son will be in good hands," the man in green assured.
"Gregory, come and meet my good friend, Salazar," Heathcliff called.
A young man, no more than eighteen, slouched out to join them. He was a remarkably handsome young man, had he not looked entirely dour.
"Yes, father," said Gregory dully.
"Gregory, stand up straight and greet my old friend Salazar. You will be his apprentice for some time, now."
Gregory's shoulders lifted only a millimeter, and grunted. He rudely avoided Salazar's eyes.
Salazar gave a tight-lipped smile. His eyes lingered on Gregory for a fleeting moment, and then swept back to Heathcliff.
"Very well, Heathcliff. You may leave now. Say your goodbyes."
Heathcliff, who looked slightly put out, hugged his son very gingerly.
"You take of yourself. No foolish antics," were his departing words.
Gregory hardly looked up. It was apparent that he wasn't quite close to his father.
"Come, my boy, let me prepare you. It is a rather arduous journey ahead."
Salazar placed a hand on Gregory's shoulder.
And then all was black.
I opened my eyes, my mind racing with unanswered questions. They were whirring by so fast it made my head spin.
Who were two women? What were Heathcliff and Salazar talking about? Why was Heathcliff dressed in pink robes? Why was Gregory so surly? And was that Salazar Slytherin?
I rationally began to answer questions in my head, using whatever I knew.
Could those women be Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw? But if they were Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, why was one of them sharpening a knife? Both were known to be generally peaceful, nonviolent people. And if the other founders were there, then where was Godric Gryffindor? None of that made sense. I tossed that theory out the window.
What Heathcliff and Salazar were talking about I would have to find out through more dreams.
But I was getting ahead of myself. Who said that I would be having more of these dreams?
I skimmed over the third question. Heathcliff could wear whatever he wanted. Or maybe royal people were crazy like that. Was he a king or something?
Gregory was an odd but interesting person. But why was he so rude like that? Did he hold a grudge against Slytherin?
And as for the last question, all of the signs pointed to it. He wore green robes, his name was Salazar, and he had the attitude of a typical Slytherin.
My head was still buzzing with the weight of the questions in my mind, so I knew there was no way on Earth I would be able to sleep. So, I decided to get some use out of my impromptu free time.
I shuffled out of my bedroom in my bunny slippers, grabbing my wand on the way out. I was careful not to wake James, though I would've liked a companion in my state of insomnia.
Everything was as I had left it just before patrol. I mentally reviewed all the assignments I could work.
I could do my History of Magic essay, but the mere appeal of doing that made that option immediately eliminate itself.
I could work on my antidote for Potions.
Potions? This early? Who are you kidding, Lily?
Or I could always start outlining my Transfiguration essay.
I sat down and got to work.
I was so engrossed in my outline I didn't hear soft footsteps behind me. I was so absorbed it startled me when a shadow leaned over me.
"Lily? Wuzzgoinon?"
"English, please," I requested.
"Sorry," apologized James, yawning. "Whatcha doing?"
"Why do you want to know?" I snapped, and instantly regretted it when James looked miffed.
"Sorry that it isn't my problem that you're up at an ungodly hour in the morning doing homework," he retorted sarcastically.
I sighed. Old habits suck.
"So, why are you up, anyway?" he asked, balancing on the top of the couch.
"Couldn't sleep," I answered evasively, drawing a line under an important point, "You?"
"I was asleep, but then I heard you trampling downstairs like a elephant, so I woke up."
"Hey! I do not walk like an elephant. My steps are gazelle-like."
"Yeah right," he snorted, "They so are."
"Are not!"
"Are too!"
"Are not!"
"Are too!"
"Are not!"
"Are not!"
"Are too- ah, bugger. I hate you."
"Sure you do," he smirked cockily, and I maturely stuck my tongue out at him.
"I'm your friend, dammit! I am entitled to hate you!"
"That makes absolutely no sense."
"It sounded better in my head."
"Sure it did."
"Will you stop questioning me on everything I say?"
"Will you stop questioning me on everything I say?"
"You are a prat!"
"You are a prat!" He stretched out luxuriously on the couch. I frowned.
"Stop it!"
"Stop it!" he mocked.
"Cut it out!"
"Cut it out!"
I smiled slyly. "James Potter is an arrogant prick."
"James Potter is an arro- ah, I see what you did there, you-you sneaky-"
I chuckled I watched him sit and struggle to find something to say. It's not everyday you see James Potter speechless. Only certain people can do that.
"Shuddup," he mumbled, his voice slurred indignantly.
I paid no heed to his request, I merely snickered.
"Real mature," he said loudly, "Well, I'm hungry. I'm going to the kitchens."
He waited for my reaction. As usual, my Head Girl instincts kicked in.
"James, it's late. You can't go to the kitchens; you'd be breaking curfew. And what if Filch catches you?"
"Lily, who do you take me for? I'm a Marauder. I can get around without being caught," he scoffed.
My defenses were becoming feebler. I said, "Do you even know where the kitchens are? You were never a prefect." Even then, I knew that that was rubbish.
"Lily, dear, hear me loud and clear. I am a Marauder. I know where the kitchens are, and I know how to get to them. Want me to show you?"
I opened my mouth to reply no to his generous invitation, but my belly grumbled traitorously. I scowled at it.
"Look, even your tummy agrees with me. Listen to your tummy."
I sighed. Even my own body parts were betraying me. I had to cave in at some point. "Yes."
He almost fell off of the couch. No, correction, he actually did fall off the couch.
"You okay?" I tried to sound offhand, and I tried not to sound too concerned. I didn't want to give the bloke any ideas.
"'M fine," he muttered, getting clumsily to his feet, "Sorry you had to see that. Not one of my finest moments."
"You've had a lot of them," I said.
James did not speak, instead attempting to engulf me a hug. I dodged out of the way. I didn't like him that much.
James apparently wasn't as coordinated on the ground than he was in the air, because he tripped and his face put a dent in the ground. I winced.
"Ow," he muttered embarrassedly, rubbing his nose, his face red. His glasses had fallen on the ground, and a trickle of blood was sliding down his face. I picked his glasses up and he blindly took them.
"Ow," he said again, "That really hurt. Care to aid a bloke in need, Evans? I left my wand upstairs."
Should I really help him, after he had mimicked me so unnecessarily?
I wasn't heartless.
"Episkey," I said, healing his nose and setting it straight. The blood stopped immediately, and I sighed in relief . Did I mention that blood made me squeamish?
"Go clean that up," I advised.
James took the stairs two at a time to the bathroom. I waited patiently while he washed up.
He came bounding back down, wiping his face with his sleeve.
I examined his face. No blood. Good.
We stood there awkwardly for a few moments. I finally began walking towards the portrait hole.
"Wait, where are you going?" he asked, catching up to me easily.
"To the kitchens, or have you forgotten?" I chided.
"Oh-oh yeah." James linked arms with me. "Shall we depart, Miss Evans?"
"We shall." I looped my arm through his, and we stepped regally out of the portrait hole. I squeaked and clung onto to him even tighter.
James chuckled. I elbowed him sharply in the ribs. That shut him up.
"Hang on," he said, and darted back in. I stood by myself, shivering slightly.
Merlin, it was pitch black out here. I never knew that Hogwarts could get this dark at night. I hoped James would come back quickly.
He returned as quickly as I'd hoped. Perhaps he'd sensed how I felt. He clutched his wand in his right hand and a silvery cloak under his other arm. He stuffed it in his pocket before I could get a proper look at it.
"Let's go," he said, striding at a brisk pace. He was already halfway down the corridor when I returned to my senses. I sprinted quickly to catch up.
Something squeaked. I jumped. The arsehole sniggered. I glared at him childishly.
"Not all of us have snuck around at this time of night, unlike some people I could mention," I muttered.
James didn't reply. I looked up and saw his tense face.
"Shh," he hissed.
Then I heard it. A rustling, coming from my feet.
We both looked down slowly. Mrs. Norris's lamp-like eyes stared creepily back at us, her face triumphant.
I nearly screamed, but James slapped a hand over my mouth, stifling my scream.
"Mangy cat," he hissed venomously. Then he pulled at my arm and we ran for our lives.
"In here," James whispered, and pushed me through a tapestry.
It was rather secluded and dark in here. And small. I didn't have claustrophobia, but it felt as if the walls were closing in on me. It was terrifying.
A warm scent wreathed around me. It was cologne. I smelled cinnamon and musk.
It didn't take long for me to identify who the scent belonged to.
"Shh," James whispered, covering my mouth with his hand. His very calloused hand.
Mmm.
Wait, where did that come from?
His hand feels nice.
Shut your trap, brain. Do brains have mouths? Metaphorically, I mean. I'm not stupid.
I mean, look at me. I'm Head Girl, I'm in the top of our year in every class. Well, that's not true. James was Head Boy for a reason. He's the top student in Transfiguration, even though it's tough to believe. He has good grades in almost every class too, because we're always competing for the highest place.
I act modest when people tell me that I have really good grades and I'm in the top three in every class, but in all honesty, I know.
Merlin's balls, I sound like fifth year James.
Speaking of James, he was still crouched beside me, his sharp eyes watching the entrance to our hideout. Unlike me, he was seemingly not as unnerved by our close proximity.
Filch's scratchy voice reached out to our ears, and next to me, James tensed.
"Do you smell anything, my sweet?"
Mrs. Norris purred.
I didn't breathe. I had no idea whether that was good or bad, I just knew I had to stay quiet.
Please, just go away, I wordlessly begged of Filch and his damned cat.
James's muscles were taut.
My mouth was dry.
"Fine," said Filch disappointedly, "Let's go catch some other miscreants, my sweet."
I could feel Lily relax next to me as Filch skulked away. She was just as tense as I'd expected her to be. After all, this was her first adventurous outing.
Merlin, that girl did things to me that I'd rather not mention. Her signature strawberry-scented shampoo wafted into my nose. I inhaled it, and it made my head spin gloriously.
"Well?" Lily prodded me. "Move, you great big lummox, you're squashing me."
"Sorry." I scrambled to the tapestry and yanked it open. I climbed out and helped Lily down. She didn't push me away.
Lily brushed off her pajama bottoms, which had watermelons flashing their pearly whites. She looked at me, anticipation and exhilaration written all over her face.
"So?" She cast her eyes around us warily. "Are we going, or what?"
"Yeah, let's go." I tentatively held out my hand.
Lily looked at the hand, at me, and back at my hand. My neck grew uncomfortably hot.
"Sorry, you don't have to, I didn't mean it like that-" I apologized profusely, retracting my hand, but a huge smile on her face stopped me. She was positively glowing.
"C'mon, what're you waiting for?" She snatched my hand, practically bouncing on her feet. And just like that, my heart flip-flopped.
The rest of our journey was uneventful. Occasionally, Lily would give my hand a little squeeze, and a butterfly would fly into my stomach.
Seven and half minutes later, we were standing in front of the portrait of fruit, which was the entrance to kitchens, and which Lily was oblivious to.
"Why'd we stop?" she asked, glancing around.
"Guess," I invited her.
She studied the portrait. "Er, to admire a painting of a bowl of fruit?"
I heaved a sigh. "You, Lily Evans, are woefully unenlightened on the subject of Hogwarts's many secrets. Have another whack at it, since I am feeling merciful today."
""Merciful', huh? Boy, my luck keeps going up and up," she retorted sarcastically, and rather ungraciously, in my opinion. I mean, it's like it's fifth year again. I can't be that arrogant now, can I? Am I even capable?
Lily looked at the painting. "I don't see what the big deal is. It's just a painting," she said dismissively.
I rolled my eyes. Was she stupid? Oh wait, I hadn't told her yet.
"Lily, it is a big deal. Look, just tickle the pear." I gestured grandly towards the portrait.
Lily looked dubious, but nevertheless stretched out her hand and poked the pear. It let out a small chuckle. She leapt back, alarmed.
I chuckled in perfect harmony with the pear. She glared at me and determinedly reached out again. This time, the pear giggled uproariously and transformed into a handle.
"Woah." Unhesitatingly, she tugged the handle and the portrait swung open, revealing the gleaming space beyond.
"Wow," Lily breathed.
I confidently stepped in first. Lily was still open-mouthed as she followed me inside.
"Impressed?" I smirked teasingly at her.
She pursed her lips. "Not yet."
"Fine. Prepare to be even more amazed. Libby!" I called.
The minuscule house-elf popped into the kitchen. Lily emitted a soft scream of surprise.
"Sorry, Miss. Libby did not mean to startle you, Miss," Libby apologized, wringing her hands.
Lily smiled kindly at the house elf. "Not at all, Libby. Forgive me, it's been a rather unpredictable night." She shot me a look.
Libby seemed perplexed, but nonetheless asked obediently, "Would you like something to eat, Miss?"
Lily regarded the house elf curiously. "What can you make?"
"Anything Miss wants."
Lily was still on the fence. "Um, I'd like a dessert."
"What kind of dessert, Miss? Truffles, cookies, soufflé…"
"Just pick, Evans," I interjected lazily.
She glared at me, then responded, "I'd like a plate of double chocolate chip cookies, if it isn't any trouble."
"Not at all, Miss! What would-"
I cut in before she could finish asking the customary question. "I'll have the usual, Libby. And add an extra plate of the muffins."
Libby bowed, and without delay, hurried away.
Lily settled in her chair comfortably. I could see more questions burning in her eyes.
"So, how'd you discover this place anyway? Dumbledore surely wouldn't tell you about it."
"Lily, that is where you are quite mistaken. You see, Dumbledore did show us this unintentionally."
Lily looked at me quizzically. I hastened to explain.
"One night, Pad-I mean Sirius got the bright idea to steal McGonagall's biscuit tin. You know that tin she rattles in your face whenever you're in trouble?"
She shook her head.
"Well, whenever you're in real serious trouble, she offers you a biscuit as way of telling you that. That's how you know you're absolutely screwed."
"I'll keep that in mind," Lily told me.
"Okay, so Sirius wanted to nip into McGonagall's office and take her tin of biscuits, right? So this is what happened…"
Flashback
Sirius and I stole out of the portrait hole, disturbing the dozing Fat Lady as we made our exit.
"Who's there?" she squawked, her beady eyes peering through the darkness.
We didn't deign to answer; we had a much more important task at hand. This time, it was pilfering Professor McGonagall's biscuit tin.
"Come on, let's go," Sirius whispered.
We padded softly down the corridor, our footsteps soundless. We were masters of marauding, the biscuit bandits, whatever you wanted to label us.
A wholly few minutes later, we stood outside the gargoyle that guarded the entrance.
Sirius unveiled himself and drew himself up. "I need to get inside. It's an emergency."
"The Deputy Headmistress is not in right now," the gargoyle responded automatically, "May I take a message, please?"
"No, you don't understand. It's urgent. She has something in there that I need."
The dim light wavered for a second as he spoke. I was keeping a vigilant watch over the Marauder's Map, which was the only way we would know if someone was approaching.
At that moment, I noticed a dot moving steadily towards us. It was labelled 'Albus Dumbledore.'
"Sirius!" I hissed as loudly as possible without being heard. "Red alert!"
That got Sirius's attention. That was a code we used if we were in danger of being caught.
"Uh, sorry, but um, I remembered something! So, um, bye!" Sirius dove under the cloak.
"Oh, damn," he whispered, snatching away the map and recognizing the name. It was rapidly descending down the stairs nearest us.
We huddled in a nearby niche, knowing that he wouldn't be able to see us, but you never knew with Dumbledore. He was the one teacher we could never outwit.
The bearded, bespectacled man himself entered our vision. He was humming a tune to himself serenely. He was unaware that we were hidden in the shadows.
Dumbledore turned left and disappeared into the corridor ahead. Sirius and I glanced at each other simultaneously, both of us thinking the same thing: we had to follow him.
And that's what we did. We tailed him all the way to the kitchens, where we discovered the secret behind all of the delicious food.
We waited patiently outside until he left, and it didn't take him a whole lot of time. He exited with a packet of Lemon Drops.
Not only had we discovered an asset to our plans, but we also knew where Dumbledore procured his famous Lemon Drops.
Present:
I waited for her reaction, but Libby and reinforcements Apparated into the kitchen with our food, or more like a feast. She had brought platters and platters of double chocolate chip cookies, along with a dozen plates piled with muffins, mini-cakes, all kinds of tart, including treacle.
Lily's mouth fell open at the sheer number of plates being set in front of her, as she couldn't believe what she was seeing. I wouldn't have either. If this was my first time. She was a rookie, I was a pro.
Lily grabbed whatever was within reach and stuffed into into her mouth. With her bare hands. Completely unladylike. Like, I dunno...Padfoot.
I watched, astonished beyond words. What. The. Hell.
"Lily?" I asked uncertainly. A muffled "Mmph." was my answer.
"Attractive," I snorted, "Utterly charming. How do you fit all of that in your mouth?"
Lily had devoured a grand total of six cookies, two muffins, and a Chocolate Frog in under a minute.
See? She could rival Padfoot's unethical eating habits. Why girls fell for such a pig was a mystery.
Lily swallowed and said dryly, "Girls can be like boys in all aspects. Except for peeing. Why do boys have to stand? It splatters everywhere."
I choked on my cookie while trying to hold in my amusement. Not such a good idea.
Lily performed a Heimlich Maneuver on me as I struggled for air. Normally, I would have relished the closeness, and that the back of my head was inches from her chest, but under these life-threatening circumstances, that wasn't the case.
"Thanks," I panted, gasping for oxygen.
Lily retook her seat delicately, unperturbed by the fact I was this close to dying.
That girl was strange, but still wonderfully beautiful.
"So, you were saying?" She crossed her legs and her arms prettily.
"We were on the issue of why boys and girls urinate differently."
"Oh right. Carry on."
Okay, I'm going to end it here, because I really don't want to get into that debate and I want to keep it rated K+. I don't know why boys do what they do, because I'm a girl and I'm not a mind-reader. If you're curious, go ahead, search it or ask someone who's experienced on this kind of stuff. I personally wouldn't because it's just...ugh.
Thank you so much for waiting so patiently for this chapter. I apologize for the long wait, but school is becoming so much harder now. High school orientation, plus the teachers giving extra homework, because it'll get our grades up, and it'll make them look good.
Okay, so as for Matrimonium, I haven't even started the (hopefully) last chapter, because of the reasons above. I've been working on this chapter as much as possible, and writing the sequel to my Henry Danger story, Regrets. Here's a sneak peek:
He opened to the page that was bookmarked with Ray's pen. His face became more alarmed as he took in the information.
"Char, come have a look at this."
Charlotte read over his shoulder, her face growing more somber.
"Well, Char? What does this all mean?" demanded Henry the moment she looked up.
"I think we both know what it means, Hen." She looked at him, her eyes wide, and pointed to Ray.
Oooo, suspenseful. I'm so close to finished, it should be published within the next week. Hope you like it, and liked this chapter too! Reviews would help a lot. Please tell me what I could improve on.
