IX. Tell and Kiss
The Hogwarts library was a great, cathedralic room. Dust motes twinkled as they spiraled down, caught in the thick beams of sunlight filtered through the high arched windows, like bubbles caught in amber. The room smelled of ink, paper and parchment, permeated by a deep hush that conveyed centuries of concentration.
Naturally, the library was at the very center of the Hogwarts rumor mill.
Down the center of the room ran a row of four-person tables, and it was here that many of the most popular bits of news, gossip or complete untruths had been spread throughout the school. One of Julie's favorite pastimes was coming into the library and eavesdropping—or at least it had been, until the teachers started assigning so much homework that she actually had to spend all of her library time studying.
At the beginning of December, Professor Slughorn informed his class that they would be doing projects in pairs, to be presented on the last class of the term. He matched them with their deskmates, and then let them pick slips of parchment, eyes closed, for topics. Lily and Julie were assigned Poisons and Antidotes. So they made a date, Wednesday in the library, and Julie—apparently solitarily—had kept it.
Catch me doing that again, she thought ruefully.
She had been sitting at the agreed-upon desk for ten minutes, drawing increasingly unflattering cartoons of Professor Slughorn, (even less flattering than she meant them to be—she was really terrible at drawing) when she started listening to the conversation at the next table.
It was a small group of Ravenclaw girls, fourth and fifth years. They were having the Potter or Black conversation.
Oh good, something new for a change...
"Have you seen him fly?" one girl was gushing.
"Everyone's seen him fly, Em," said another acerbically. "He just doesn't have the hair..."
"I thought he had a thing for Mona Prinz, anyway," chipped in a third, pushing up her cat eye glasses. Julie choked down a laugh.
"Isn't Potter going out with Julia Fraser?" said a fourth girl. Julie choked again and had to actually duck beneath the table when one of the girls looked her way.
"He's not," said the second girl, the sarcastic one. "She's a total slag." ("Monica," Em giggled.) "And he's still crazy about that prefect, Lily Evans. Sirius, on the other hand..."
Julie was drawing a new comic, a little stick figure wearing a Ravenclaw scarf. Well, she only had black ink—but she knew it was a Ravenclaw scarf.
I AM A TOTAL SLAG AND SIRIUS BLACK IS OUT OF MY LEAGUE, she wrote in the speech bubble.
"Evans is so full of herself," Em moaned. There were murmurs of agreement from the other girls.
"Actually, she's really not," said the girl with the cat eye glasses. "She's really nice to me whenever I talk to her."
"Which is what, once a year?" said Monica.
"I talked to her last week," said Glasses stiffly, bending over her books.
Monica was saying something else unpleasant, but Julie had already stopped caring.
Severus Snape stepped out from between two bookcases, turned a corner, and slipped into the next aisle. He was being shadowed by Caius Mulciber.
Julie hesitated for only a second before she stood up, slung her bag onto the table, and followed. She walked quietly into the aisle that the two Slytherins had just left, right alongside the one they were currently in. Unfortunately, the bookshelves had solid wooden backs, so there was no way to see the boys, but she could hear them.
"—not in charge anyway, Caius," Snape was saying smoothly. He had a slimy sort of voice—like this, when she couldn't see the greasy hair or the shabby clothes, he almost seemed threatening. "So what information I have, I don't give to you."
"Really, Severus?" said Mulciber. "And here I thought we were friends." Julie could practically hear him smirking.
"Of course—of course I trust you—" said Snape unconvincingly, "but—I'm not trying to imply—"
Mulciber cut him off.
"Listen, Snape, if you actually know a way in from the village, and you're not just lying for attention..." His voice dwindled to a whisper. Julie was straining so hard to hear that she was actually leaning on the shelf in front of her, ear against it.
"What are you doing?"
Julie almost fell. It was the girl with the cat eye glasses. She had straight black hair and bright blue-green eyes, filled with nothing but frank curiosity. Julie wanted to throttle her.
The voices on the other side of the shelf had already fallen silent. Julie held perfectly still, not even breathing, until she heard quiet footsteps moving away. The boys were gone, and she let her face relax into a scowl.
"It's really none of your business."
Glasses made a skeptical face. "If you say so. Anyway, Lily Evans showed up. She took your seat."
Julie looked at her for a moment, trying to silently convey how utterly displeased she was, before leaving her in the stacks.
Lily had, indeed taken Julie's seat, and she was reading Julie's notes—in fact, she was laughing quietly at the last cartoon.
"Anything you need to tell me, Julia?"
Julie snatched the parchment, considered it, and then put it in her pocket. "Don't be stupid, that's obviously not me."
"Interesting..."
"Oh, fuck off."
Lily stared at her.
Julie exploded, but quietly, because she was in a library. "Where the hell were you? You are"—she checked Lily's watch—"twenty-three minutes late. Anything you need to tell me, Evans?"
"Oh," said Lily, seeming honestly surprised at Julie's anger, "Sorry. I was just—um, I was just talking to somebody."
Julie opened her mouth to speak, closed it, and then sat down opposite the other girl, figuring there was no way she was getting back her original seat. In a more reasonable tone, she said, "Come on, Lily. I know you have a secret—you've been late to everything. What's going on?"
Lily hesitated, biting her lip. "It's nothing. I was talking to someone."
Julie just looked at her.
"Well—there's a boy."
Pause.
Then: "Damn," said Julie dispassionately, "I thought it was something interesting..."
Lily snorted, and then looked down, getting shy again.
"Who is he?" asked Julie.
"Nigel—Nigel Fontaine, you know him? He's the Ravenclaw prefect, seventh year."
Julie shrugged.
"That's his little sister," Lily added, pointing, "Isabelle."
It was Glasses, who was back at her table and currently whacking Monica over the head with a Transfiguration textbook.
"Oh," said Julie, a little distastefully. "So what's he like? Ravenclaw prefect, hm? You've found someone just as swotty as you!"
Lily rolled her eyes. "Julie, please...he's—I mean, he's smart—he's...very nice..."
"Thrilling."
"I like him a lot," said Lily firmly. "We're going to Hogsmeade together."
"Well, good for you," said Julie. "Is he fit?" She didn't give Lily enough time to answer before she went on. "Can't be, particularly, else I'd know him, wouldn't I? How far've you gone?"
This was the final straw for Lily, who put her hands to her face. "I wasn't going to tell you anything..."
"—but you did, so now you have to tell me everything. Have you shagged him yet?"
"I am not answering that—"
"Lily Evans..."
"What are you doing?"
It was a girl's voice, clear and high, very close. Mulciber fell silent.
He frowned at Severus, pointing at himself—is she talking to us?
Severus jerked his head towards the shelf behind them—no, somewhere over there—and then gestured towards the door. Let's get out.
Mulciber followed him, past the librarian and out the door.
They walked down two flights of stairs to the Entrance Hall, and then down another to the dungeons. It wasn't until they were approaching the Slytherin Common Room that either spoke.
"—what I mean is," said Severus abruptly, as if he had not been interrupted at all, "logically, there must be a way into the school that Filch isn't watching, or the Aurors or whoever."
"You already told me this," said Mulciber in a bored voice. "Where do Potter and his mates get all the alcohol for their fabulous parties that you aren't invited to..."
"It's a valid point," said Severus coolly. "Anyway, I didn't say that I know where this passage, or whatever, is."
"Didn't you?"
"Er...not really..."
Mulciber stopped in his tracks. "So you were just lying the entire time? Just to clarify. You made the whole thing up, is what you are saying?"
"I—no, I mean, there must have been some kind of a, a misunderstanding. That's all." Severus shifted his weight uncomfortably.
"A misunderstanding," said Mulciber coldly, brown eyes unblinking. "Right."
The other boy just nodded.
"Look, Snape—" here Mulciber clapped Severus on the shoulder, so that his knees buckled, "I just realized I left my history book in the library, so I'm just gonna run back and get it, yeah?"
"Yeah, sure."
"See you around."
Severus nodded slowly, but Mulciber was already gone, robes billowing out behind him.
He had said what he meant to say. And now he felt perfectly certain that he had made the wrong choice.
She had to tell Dumbledore.
He had to know.
Enough was enough.
It was not, she supposed, what James Potter would suggest, but then she really wasn't in the habit of taking suggestions from James Potter.
The only problem was a fairly large one—she had no idea where Professor Dumbledore was. What did he do in his spare time? He must have an office, somewhere, but where, she had no idea.
James Potter would know, she thought glumly. Regardless, she found her way to the Transfiguration Office.
She knocked on the door, and Professor McGonagall immediately opened it.
"Miss Fraser?"
"I, ah, I wondered where I could find Professor Dumbledore."
McGonagall surveyed her through her square-rimmed glasses for a moment, and then she opened the door all the way and stepped back to let Julie through. Dumbledore was inside, standing at the window, apparently watching the Ravenclaw Quidditch team practice.
"Oh."
"Miss Fraser," said the headmaster, smiling. "What can I do for you?"
Julie took a breath, lacing her fingers together. "It's about—there's a student—Snape, Severus Snape." There really wasn't any way to come at it gradually. "I think he's a Death Eater."
There was a pause. Then Professor McGonagall said abruptly, "That's an extremely serious accusation to make, Miss Fraser."
"Um...yes. I mean, I know it is, otherwise I wouldn't make it...There's something else. He knows—he knows a way into the castle. There's a secret passage—maybe more than one—and he knows where it is."
The two Professors shared a significant look. Then Dumbledore said calmly, "Yes, he does."
Julie stared. "You know?"
He just nodded.
"Aren't you worried that he might tell anyone? Other students, or—or anyone?"
"Miss Fraser," said the headmaster in a measured voice, "There are certain students who have—perhaps—more information than they should, about this castle. I have spoken to all of them, and I don't believe any of them to be a security risk. As for Mr. Snape being a Death Eater—do you really think, that if anyone in this school posed a real threat to the other students, I would allow them to stay here?"
She looked at him for a long moment, turning that over in her mind, and then finally she shook her head. How do you know what a "real threat" is, Professor? she wanted to say, but she was silent.
"I hope that satisfies your concerns?" he said more gently.
She shrugged, a little uncertain. It didn't, not by a long shot—it was a pretty nothing. She had heard more than a few of those, over the years, and they usually weren't followed by anything useful. So she turned to go.
"Julia," said Professor McGonagall, and Julie stopped with her hand on the doorknob. She had never heard her Head of House call her by anything other than her surname.
"Yes, Professor?"
McGonagall looked at her very intently, her expression unreadable. "Try not to do any more detective work. Your responsibility is to keep yourself safe."
Julie nodded slowly. "Right. Thank you, Professor—Professor."
She closed the office door and let out a great breath of air. That's it? Do I really seem that incompetent to them, that completely oblivious?
She started off towards the Great Hall. This is important, she thought. I know it is.
Christ, I hope we have have something good for dinner...
Two weeks before the end of term, they had their next Hogsmeade weekend. To Julie's surprise, Niamh wanted to go together. So they wrapped themselves up in cloaks, hats and scarves and joined the long line in the Entrance Hall, where Filch was slowly and methodically checking students for contraband items.
Lily was a little ways ahead of them, with a dark-haired boy who had to be Nigel. They were talking intently, Lily waving her hands around in the way she did when she was really involved in a conversation, but she managed a grin at Julie over the Ravenclaw's shoulder.
Finally, they escaped from Filch's Probity Probe, and they made their way down the driveway, neither of them talking. There was a thin layer of snow on the ground, just enough to crunch. Niamh was humming a little and picking at a stray thread on her mitten. Julie was trying to think of something she could get her mother for Christmas.
"Oi, Scottie!"
Julie stopped and turned. Niamh, with a small sigh, followed suit.
It was James, of course, face red from the cold, glasses slightly askew. He was running towards the girls, followed at a slower pace by Peter, Remus and Sirius.
"Listen, Julie," said James in a voice that was strikingly casual, considering he had just run all the way down the drive to talk to her, "just out of curiosity, would you happen to know who that boy with the brown hair is?"
"The boy with the brown hair?" said Julie. Niamh was scuffling her feet in the snow, completely uninterested in the conversation.
"Yeah, him."
"That's Remus Lupin," said Julie cheerfully. "He sleeps in your dormitory, and in fact, he's been one of your best mates for about six years. The memories should come back to you eventually..."
"Prat. I mean the other one. That one over there." He gestured down the path.
"Oh, you mean Lily Evans' new boyfriend?" Julie drawled. "Why on earth didn't you say? Well, his name is Nigel Fontaine, he's apparently 'very nice,' they probably haven't slept together yet, and his little sister has rather nasty friends. That is all I know about him."
"Right. Thanks."
"Anytime."
Niamh was actually tugging on her arm by this point, so Julie let herself be tugged, and they headed down to the village.
"Jesus, Niamh..." said Julie ruefully, rubbing her wrist. "What's with you?"
Niamh shrugged uncomfortably.
"I mean, why do you hate James so much?"
"I don't hate him," said Niamh, "I just think he's an idiot. He's completely full of himself, he's rude to practically everyone, and he doesn't ever make an effort at anything. Really, why do you like him?"
"Well, when you put it like that..." said Julie with a laugh. "Sure, he's a bit of a git, but he's always been perfectly nice to me...we're mates. I told him the plot of every Star Trek episode in existence once in second year, when we both had the owl flu."
"Star Trek?"
"Sure. Why do you think he calls me Scottie?" Julie looked sideways at her companion, who still seemed rather confused. "Wait...you've never watched Star Trek, have you?"
Niamh shook her head.
"Oh. Never mind..."
The conversation trailed off after that. There was a thin wind blowing up Hogsmeade Main Street, and all the students they passed were tightly wrapped in their cloaks. Julie lit a cigarette.
"Could you not?" asked Niamh. Julie looked at her with a little surprise, but then she did put it out, grinding it into the ground with the toe of her boot.
They were quiet. There was only one thing Julie could think of to say, and she was fairly certain that it would not lead to a productive conversation.
She said it anyway. "Do you think it was Mulciber who attacked you?"
"Oh my God, Julia."
"No, really—I'm sorry, I know you don't want to—it's just, we were thinking—"
"Oh, we?" said Niamh acidly. "Who's we? Julia Fraser and Sirius Black, ace detective team?"
"Niamh—"
"Julie. Stop."
"Fine...can we go into Scrivenshaft's?"
They went into the shop, each silent and a little resentful, and looked around for about ten minutes. After much longer than it ought to take, Julie picked out a quill and paid for it.
"Honeydukes?" she suggested as they stepped back out onto the street, but Niamh shook her head.
"D'you want to just...I don't know, walk around?" she suggested.
"Oh, sure," said Julie. "It's maybe five degrees below freezing?"
Niamh just shrugged. It was becoming a strikingly unenjoyable day.
They walked up Hogsmeade Main Street. A small flurry of snow was beginning to spiral down from the sky, the very nastiest, wettest kind. The Three Broomsticks was warmly lit, and as they passed the door opened, a yellow square of light falling on the snow-dusted pavement in front, and a group of Slytherin girls came out, chattering and giggling. Siobhan Fairchild was with them, laughing very loudly at something Aurelia Malfoy had just said, clutching her arm. Niamh stopped walking, uncertain, eyes wide.
"What are you waiting for?" said Julie sharply, poking her in the side. This was getting absurd, she thought—surely Niamh could talk to her sister any time she wanted to.
But Niamh wasn't paying attention to her, and then Siobhan looked over at them, and then Niamh went completely still, deer-in-the-headlights—as if her fight-or-flight reaction was busy breaking down, right at that very moment.
Siobhan frowned, and whispered something to Aurelia, and then she crossed the street to her sister.
"Niamh," she said brightly, "Want to come with us to Honeydukes?"
Niamh wasted a brief moment choking and then turned to Julie. "You don't mind, do you, Jule?" she said. "I'll meet you again...back at the castle..."
"Yeah, have fun," said Julie coolly, because really there was nothing else she could say—not with Siobhan right there, standing with her arms crossed and her blue eyes icy.
"Thanks," said Niamh, as if Julie had actually meant it, which she hadn't, but then her twin gripped her firmly by the elbow and started pulling her over towards her friends, and Julie just got out another cigarette.
The snow was starting to thicken, great wet flakes catching in her hair, so she crossed the street to stand against the pub's wall and smoke in the relative shelter that the overhanging roof afforded. She could hear the muffled sound of many voices from inside, but in front of her only a few people were still passing, and now the snow was starting to obscure them, turning them into lumbering dark shapes in a great white expanse.
Then there was a whomp and she was suddenly much wetter around the middle.
"You arsehole!"
"I do my best," said James Potter, grinning as he emerged (alone—he must have gotten rid of his friends somehow) from the snow. He had no gloves, and his hands were wet from the snowball he had just thrown. "See you, Scottie." And he stepped into the pub.
The Three Broomsticks was packed with Hogwarts students, all of them cold and wet, so Nigel went to wait in the serpentine line at the bar while Lily looked for a table. There was only one in the corner, with a sticky top and two mismatched chairs, but she just chose the more comfortable of the latter and used a quick Cleaning Charm on the former.
Isabelle came in, with Mary Macdonald, and waved at her. There was a strong smell of wet wool in the air.
The door opened with a clatter and James Potter came in, followed by a rush of cold air. He was, unusually, alone, and his hair was dusted with enough snow to make it look as though it had prematurely whitened. He looked around, and then rather than join the line for a butterbeer, crossed the packed room to Lily's table.
"All right, Evans?"
"Potter," Lily said with a small smile; he cut rather a pathetic figure, dripping with melted snow and with his glasses fogged up.
He sat himself down in the opposite chair, which wobbled dangerously under his weight but didn't give way. "Having a good time?"
She wasn't really sure what he was asking, so she just said, "Don't you think Hogsmeade must be nice when it isn't completely packed with students?"
"Yeah, it is," he said.
She smiled, leaning her elbows on the table.
"How are you getting on with the Charms essay?" asked James.
"You really came over here to talk about Charms?"
"Sure, why not," he said with a shrug. "You're the second best in class, after all."
Lily stiffened and sat up straight. "I am not."
He thought about it. "Well, no, I suppose Sirius might be better than you too...maybe..."
She scoffed. "Please, Potter, you wish you were better at Charms than me—do I need to bring up the toad thing?"
He opened his mouth to say something clever, but someone else spoke first.
It was Nigel; he was holding two butterbeers, looking a little bemused. "I think you're in my seat?" he said politely to James.
"Right, sorry," said James, standing up. "Evans—" He gave her a little salute. "The toad thing was all Sirius. See you around."
He turned and left, and as he went he ran his hands through his hair, getting water on several people's shoes.
"I didn't know you two were friends," said Nigel.
"That would be news to me too," said Lily. "Anyway, you were saying, about your holiday in France—"
"Right, so—we were in Paris, right—have you ever been?"
"To Paris?" said Lily with a snort. "I wish..."
He was glad it was snowing—he had the hood of his cloak up, and going to the Hog's Head wasn't precisely forbidden, but the harder he was to recognize, the better. Mulciber made his way down the street alone, sliding a bit on the wet ground, and shut the door firmly behind him when he got inside.
Lucius Malfoy was already there, sitting in the corner, sipping a firewhiskey with an expression of very mild disgust.
"Malfoy."
"Mulciber," he answered, the coldness of his tone plainly saying that he would prefer a bit more respect from someone so many (six) years younger.
Mulciber sat down.
"You have some information?"
"I do," said Mulciber, shifting in his seat. "And Severus Snape knows this as well, but he decided not to tell you." He gave Malfoy a very significant look here, but got no response.
"It's about the castle. There's a secret passageway into Hogwarts, and I don't know where it is, but Snape does. Well, I think he does—he's not telling. I don't trust him at all, you know...anyway."
Malfoy watched him, not a flicker of emotion in his cool grey eyes. "That's it?"
"Well...isn't that important?" said Mulciber. "Once I find out where it is...the—" he lowered his voice to a whisper "—Dark Lord could take over Hogwarts in a matter of hours—completely bypass all this security—I mean, everyone knows Dumbledore is his greatest enemy."
Disdain sat very well on Lucius Malfoy's face. It was, in fact, his most-used expression.
"Everyone knows very little about—ahem—his plans, in fact. And he is not really in the habit of sharing them with overeager seventeen-year-old boys."
Mulciber was sixteen. He decided not to share that fact.
"You're welcome to try to get more information out of Snape," said Malfoy coolly, "but for God's sake don't do anything stupid. Nobody cares about making you feel important, Mulciber—this is much bigger than you." He stood. "Don't waste my time again unless you have real information."
Mulciber tipped back in his chair to meet the other's eyes, trying to look completely unintimidated. Malfoy held his gaze for a long moment before he swept out.
The front legs of the chair came down with a loud thunk.
That's it? Do I really seem that pathetic, that easily dismissed?
This is important, thought Mulciber. I know it is.
He stood up and left, earning himself a dirty look from the bartender.
The snow actually let up a little bit, so Julie just stayed outside, leaning on the wall, and went straight from one cigarette to another. Mary Macdonald passed, with some friends from Ravenclaw, and Marlene McKinnon went by as well, with Will and Brandon, the Gryffindor Beaters. Nobody stopped to talk to her, however, until James returned, coming out of the pub this time.
"Can I have a drag?"
She looked askance at him. "Are you sure about that, Captain? Don't you want to keep yourself in better shape? Can't fly so fast with lung cancer, as somebody once told me..."
He just looked at her until she gave him the cigarette, and then he took a long inhale.
"What happened to Niamh?"
Julie shrugged. "She ran off with her sister. Again."
"For Christ's sake, Scottie, why did you even agree to come with her?"
"Dunno," said Julie, not meeting his eye. "We're supposed to be friends..."
They had always been friends, Julie and Niamh, from the first week of first year, but their relationship had more to do with necessity than feelings, as far as she could tell—Niamh wanted someone to cling to, and Julie needed someone who actually paid attention in Herbology class.
And then fifth year had happened, and Niamh had first just sort of drifted, and then when Julie had asked her why she never wanted to spend time together Niamh had said flat out that she didn't have the time, because she was spending it with other people now. Like her twin sister, who thought Julie was a "bad influence."
And then Julie had actually scraped an A on her Herbology O.W.L., so it was perfectly fine.
"Wouldn't life be easier," James said pensively, handing the cigarette back, "if people could choose who they liked and who they hated?"
Julie exhaled and then gave him a crooked smile. "It would be deathly dull."
"Well," said James. Then he was silent, thinking. "Well. I think I could manage."
Julie stubbed out the cigarette, and then pulled herself up from her leaning position by grabbing his arm. "Sh'we go back? We're not getting any drier out here..."
"Sure."
It was maybe just one o' clock in the afternoon, but nevertheless, they made their way up to the castle. They talked about Quidditch and the holidays and what was most likely to happen to Professor Abbott before the end of the year, and they each slipped a few times on the icy road and then laughed at the other for doing the same, and it was only when Julie was stretched out next to the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room that she realized she had completely forgotten to buy a present for her mum.
The last two weeks of term passed quickly. Julie and Lily didn't do a very good job with their Potions presentation, but Lily, at least, knew enough to just talk off the top of her head, and Professor Slughorn wasn't about to give her a bad mark anyway. They had exams, of course, but most of them were quite easy, and it seemed like no time at all before the students were on their way home.
"So, we all wanted to be at home in Edinburgh for actual Christmas. So we're leaving on the twenty-sixth, and we're starting in Rome, and then there's Venice, Naples and Florence, but I don't remember the order? I'm pretty sure there's another one? I dunno, Milan?"
There was a crow keeping pace with the Hogwarts Express, flapping over the dense Scottish forest that the train cut straight through. The sky was a very pale, even gray, and the bird looked like nothing so much as an inkblot on a page.
Lily sighed wistfully. "You're so lucky...my family never travels anywhere. I just get to stay in Cokeworth for three weeks."
Marlene shrugged. "I guess...I mean, Italy's nice, but I've been there before. I'd really like to go somewhere completely new."
The crow was slowly being overtaken by the train, the steady pumping of its wings no match for an engine.
"What about you, Julie?"
"What about—what?" said Julie, tearing her gaze away from the bird, "oh, sorry. I'm just staying at home with Mum and Amy."
"That's nice," said Marlene politely. Julie narrowed her eyes.
Lily turned to the fourth girl in the compartment, Mary Macdonald, who was sitting with her legs crossed at the ankles, holding a book closed on her lap.
"Oh, I'm just going home too," she said quietly. "Dublin. My gram's coming."
"I'm seeing my grandmother too," said Marlene excitedly. "I think she's meeting us in Venice—she has a house there—"
Julie stood up somewhat abruptly, and Ariel and Milo, Lily's owl, both screeched at her.
"I'm going to look for the lunch witch," Julie said calmly, and left.
The other side of the train faced onto a view that was almost the same—pine, birch, fir. Julie went up to the corridor window and looked out. The sky was empty and wide.
She still didn't have a Christmas present for Margaret, or, for that matter, Amy, but she was very glad to be going home.
"...no one would think it was you."
"Really, Padfoot? You don't think when the others wonder who let their delinquent mates into the prefect's compartment it might occur to them that I'm the only prefect with delinquent mates?"
Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were coming down the corridor, arguing cheerfully.
"You make us sound so bad," Sirius scoffed. "All I want to do is—"
"—abuse my power?"
"You do realize you're the only person who cares? Honestly, don't you do anything besides eavesdrop?"
It took Julie a moment to realize that this second question was addressed to her, but she didn't turn around.
"Maybe you shouldn't have these conversations in public," she said.
"Right. Actually, Julie, I wanted to talk to you."
Remus muttered something under his breath and then wished Julie a Happy Christmas before going into his own compartment.
"Yeah, you too," she said, still without turning around.
Sirius leaned back against the window next to her, looking at her while she pretended to look out the window. His hair fell forward over his eyes; they were a very dark grey.
"Something you wanted to say?" she said finally, smiling a little bit.
"Not exactly," he said, and then she did turn her head, and he put his hand on her shoulder so that she turned her whole body. Then he kissed her.
For just a second she froze, shocked, and then she stepped closer, letting her eyes close, putting her hands on his shoulders. Neither of them was leaning on the wall anymore—how was his hand already up the back of her shirt?—and when the train hit a bump they stumbled a little bit and broke apart.
He stared at her for a moment, and then said, perfectly nonchalant, "So...write me."
"I'll see if I can find the time," said Julie, as cool as she could. He smiled—a little amused, and, she thought, a little admiring—and then he followed Remus into the compartment.
Julie turned back to the window, biting her lip. She could still hear her pulse beating in her ears when she set off to find the lunch trolley.
