- Chapter IX -
A Lamentable Incident
"I order you to call off your steely men! At once!"
"Sirius, relax."
"No! You cannot take me without a fight, sir!"
"Padfoot I – "
"Prepare for battle!" the retard bellows, standing up and knocking his chair over. "Angaaard!" He lunges himself forward at the chess set, and slams his bishop onto the table. "Fight you lazy scoundrels, fight!"
Potter leans back in his chair, eyes wide and his eyebrows threatening to disappear into his hair. Remus is sitting by the fire, a small book in his lap, watching his friends in amusement. "The gods themselves do tremble," he says dully, glancing at Black. He returns to his book, seemingly uninterested.
"Silence!" Black bellows, lashing a finger out towards Remus. "I must concentrate! Smite them!" Black yells again, shaking his fist with a manly air. "Kill the enemy! Kill! Kill them all!"
"Prongs," Remus scolds out of the corner of his mouth, wincing as he shuts his book, the spectacle becoming too much to ignore. "What did I tell you about playing chess with Sirius?"
"That is was bad?" Potter suggests in a small voice, glancing at Remus while dodging the pawn that Black flings at him.
"Yes." Remus sighs, somewhat exasperatedly. "And?"
Potter ducks again with surprising agility as a bishop comes hurtling towards his face, and blurts, "And that it awakens old memories of his family and makes him act like a homicidal 16th century English knight?"
"Yes," Remus mutters, eyes shifting towards Black. "That."
"Oh. My bad."
Meanwhile, Black is continuing his outbursts of "Die!" and "Kill!"
"Padfoot – "
"Make your move!" Black commands, his eyes mad, brandishing his wand threateningly in Potter's face. The chess pieces seem to be reacting naturally though, the game is as brutal as it ever was. Suddenly, a pawn knocks out Black's bishop, sending it hurling over the table and into the carpet.
A second of silence passes between the three, during which Remus and Potter eye Black worriedly, as if expecting him to start foaming at the mouth, while Black stares blankly into space.
Silence. Then –
"NOOOOOOOOOO!!!" he bellows, throwing himself into the carpet after the broken bishop. "My soldier! My warrior!" He scoops the pieces up, kisses them, and stuffs them beneath the carpet. "I shall avenge you," he whispers vehemently, his hand over his chest. "May you rest in peace, my friend."
"Sirius, let's just - " Remus begins but Black begins shaking his hair like a mad man.
"NO!" he screams again. "You cannot stop me with your enchanting words! As god as my witness, I shall have my victory!"
"Prongs, get his wand away from him," Remus mutters, eyeing Black cautiously as he waves it around. "Now." Just then, Black bellows a war cry and lunges himself at Potter, who dodges and twists his arm, grabbing his wand in the process. He turns around to hand the wand to Remus.
"You coward! Face me like a man! Do not turn your back on me, sir!"
"Oh shut – "
However, Potter's sentence is interrupted rather abruptly, as Black throws himself onto his back, and effectively mounts him, all the while clobbering him over the head with his fist.
"Fuck – ow – what the hell - CHRIST PADFOOT GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME – OW!"
"YOU – KILLED – MY – COMRADE! YOU – SLIMY – DOG!"
Potter begins running around with Black latched onto his back, as Remus watches on, half-amused, half-concerned for his friend's well-being. "Padfoot," he scolds finally, somewhat half-heartedly, "Do dismount Prongs."
"HE – KILLED – MY – FRIEND!"
Clobber, clobber, clobber.
"OW – FUCK – CHESS PIECES AREN'T YOUR FRIENDS YOU DERANGED LUNATIC!"
Clobber, clobber, clobber.
Remus nods sympathetically, idly watching the Potter-Black escapades. "Yes, I do know it must be a terrible time for you, however you must dismount."
"NO!"
Clobber, clobber, clobber.
Remus sighs, folding up his sleeves patiently as Potter runs wild circles around him with Black attached to his back. Shouts of "GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME" are muffled as Black has now stuffed his fists into Potter's mouth and is steering him like a horse.
"Alright then."
With one flick of his wand, Remus throws Black off Potter's shoulders, who collapses into a heap of exhaustion on the floor and begins whimpering for his mummy. Black recoils, however is soon on his feet again, this time lunging at Remus. Ready for him this time, Remus grabs him by the shoulders and gives him a wild shake, Black's flappy hair bouncing around his head, his spit violently flying out of his mouth as he growls in agitation at being restrained.
"SNAP OUT OF IT!" Remus bellows into this face, continuing to shake him.
Soon enough, Remus lets him go, and breathing heavily, Black's expression softens, and then turns blank. He wobbles a little in his place, and then steps forward. "I did it again, didn't I" He whispers, genuinely terrified, sinking into the nearby couch. "How much damage did I do?"
Remus nods gravely, jerking his head towards Potter whose still crumpled on the floor. "You really should get that identity thing checked out, Padfoot."
"I killed him, didn't I?" Black mutters angrily, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Great."
"I'm not dead you fucking loon," Potter's voice floats in, muffled into the carpet. "You were bloody close though."
"My bad, mate," Black says, standing and helping Potter to his feet, who still looks a bit ruffled. Black looks him up and down and says, "You look a little tattered, don't you?"
Potter's glare looks like it could sear through the wall. "Yeah. Maybe because you rode piggy-back on me for an hour."
Are you wondering why I'm standing by watching all of this?
I'm bloody bored, that's why.
I have to wait around for stupid Potter to get his kumbayaya's out so that we can go on head patrol.
Mina's been upstairs for the past hour and a half. She's probably busy making vodoo dolls to poke Black to death. I'm rather inclined to go upstairs and join her and make miniature Potters to impale.
This is a rather peculiar phenomenon that I'm experiencing. A minute ago, Black was trying to kill James. And now they're laughing together. Boys are strange, it must be said.
Potter breaks from a hug with Black, and begins walking over to me, rubbing his shoulder in the process. Oh, so he's finally noticed I'm here, has he?
"Sorry for making you wait, Lily," he apologizes with a grin, looking back over his shoulder at Black. "I was rather preoccupied, as you could probably see."
It's that stomach-clenching grin, spread across that annoyingly handsome face. So gorgeous my brain might just melt into unintelligible mulch –
"That's alrig – "
NO! SHUT UP! IT'S NOT ALRIGHT!
I refuse to fall victim to his devilish charms! Not after seven years of denying, and resisting, and pummeling!
No.
He's looking at me with his head tilted to one side, clearly confused that I just stopped saying what I was about to say.
I think I'll leave him in that vegetative state for a while.
I want to snigger and cackle, but that'll give away too much.
Instead, I rise to my feet swiftly and elegantly, narrowly stopping myself form tripping over my bag, and walk to the portrait hole without another glance at him.
Ha.
Ha, ha, ha. I feel evil.
"Have fun, m'lady!" I hear Black bellow at me as the portrait slams shut.
I'm not even going to bother to check if Potter's following me, I can hear him caring. He checks behind statue for any late night stragglers as I open the door of an empty broom cupboard. He then begins talking again, without invitation, mind you, going on and on about the Quidditch final. I snap after about eight hours of it, finally. "Okay," I grunt exasperatedly, bending over and checking behind the door of an open classroom, "Maybe the rounds should be a silent activity from now on," I suggest acidly, glaring at him.
"What does that mean?"
"It means you're annoying, that's what," I idly peep behind a suit of armor, watching his reflection in the steel wraps.
I hear him gasp, and his deformed reflection puts his hand to his mouth, looking deeply offended. "Are you saying we should annoy other people?"
I bang my head against the steel. Maybe if I do it hard enough I'll pass out and won't have to spend another evening in his stupid company.
I turn around, my hands on my hips, prepared to rail at him for being so unbelievably thick. Instead of exploding into nothing like I'm willing him to, he grins, walks towards me, trips over his own feet, and hurtles into my chest, knocking me backwards into the marble staircase, following suit as he tumbles down with me.
You've got to give it to the guy. I'm sure it takes great skill to trip over flat surfaces.
Oh bloody hell. We are rolling down the staircase. The staircase. There is inappropriate touching of certain parts, not to mention the constant head banging.
Ow.
We are still rolling. How long is this bloody thing?
Oh, Christ. Potter's elbow just collided with my chest. PAIN. PAIN. Not to mention his elbow felt me up, which is just perfection.
I think we stopped moving. I can't tell on account of the fact that I'm not sure my head is, exactly. It might have kept rolling to Spain, for all I know. I shift my eyes, and see Potter lying spread-eagled merely feet from me, groaning and moaning as if all this isn't his stupid fault anyway.
Him and his stupid giant feet.
"Lil – Lily?" he says groggily, hoisting himself up on his elbows and shuffling towards me like they do in the military.
I open my mouth but all that comes out is a loud whimper. Oh, heavens. I've lost the ability to talk.
"Lily?" he says, more strongly this time. He grabs the side of the staircase and pulls himself up. Now he's looking down at me in his six-foot glory.
His face goes in and out of focus for a while, and I'm barely stopping myself from rolling to my side and retching my guts out.
"Are you alright?"
Oh, yes. I'm dandy. Having just fallen down seven thousand flights of marble, I'm quite fit to do the cancan. Bring on the frilly dresses and step aside, ladies and gentlemen!
He reaches out his hand to pull me up, but I don't think I'll be able to move from this spot for a very, very, very long time.
"Potter – stupid – can't get up – " I manage to wheeze out in between breaths.
"Do you want me to….carry you?"
Oh, my god. Hand on waist. HAND ON WAIST! SLAP IT AWAY – DO IT!
He picks me up effortlessly, and carries me to a nearby wooden bench, setting me down and pushing my hair out of my face. "Are you feeling better?"
Marginally.
And it has nothing to do with his warm hand currently resting on my thigh.
He kneels in front of me, and suddenly I get the image of him proposing, my head flashing forward in time wildly into a white house with a swing set in the backyard and a small dark haired, green eyed baby in my hand –
ARGH! I wouldn't have a baby with Potter even if he was the last man on earth! My brain has been affected from the fall! I'M GOING TO SUE HIM FOR ALL HE'S WORTH!
I think I just popped a brain vessel.
I jump up, narrowly missing banging my head onto a nearby torch, and begin walking away briskly. It takes some time for my body to adjust to the horizontal plane, and though I stumble a couple of times, the fall seems to have not done permanent damage to my brain. Good for Potter, as now he does not have to die painfully at my hands. It is now merely an elective choice.
Potter, again looks confused – unsurprising, of course - and follows suit.
"Look," He begins lamely, rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet, his arms joined behind his back as he struts after me. "Sorry about that. How are you feeling?"
"Very impressive how you were able to trip over yourself, Potter," I grit my teeth, ignoring his question as we turn a corner leading towards the Transfiguration classroom.
"Hey – look," he touches my arm and turns me around, "Do you want to call it a night?"
"Why would I want to do that?" I ask pointedly, leaning away from him.
"Well - " he swallows, gesticulating at me wildly, "You look kind of tattered."
"No, I'm alright," I reassure him. And completely ignore the fact that him worrying about me is slightly cute.
"Lily." He scolds quietly, rolling his eyes.
"Potter." I retort back, meeting his gaze. "I'm fine."
I begin to walk away, but I don't get very far. He catches up and grabs my forearm, turning me around with ease again. "Are you?"
I feel my eyes narrow suspiciously. "Why are you being so nice?" I inquire acidly, "Are you in on some kind of bet?"
"What?" he retorts defensively, his ever-present smile disappearing. "I can't be nice?"
"I – "
He sighs sadly, his chin falling to his chest. "It's wonderful to know you think so little of me."
"Well," I rub my eyes tiredly with the heels of my hands, smiling sourly. "It's either that, or accept that you've done something nice, and then I have to deal with the horsemen and the reign of fire and the end of days, and that's just a whole lot of bother I don't feel like dealing with."
He chuckles, but it's a humorless sound. "Alright, at this point, I would say you're abusing sarcasm. I happen to be a perfectly nice individual, and on occasion, I do happen to help people, so it wouldn't kill you to accept it when the chance comes around."
"Actually, it might."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
I sigh, preparing to explain as my hand grasps around the doorknob of the broom cupboard we are in front of. "Alright," I smack my lips, "Look – the last time I accepted something from a Marauder, it was in the form of chocolate, and thanks to him I ended up making out with you in front of everyone I know, so do forgive me if I am not extremely eager to drop my guard around you and your possy."
He's gaping.
"That answer your question?" I use the time interval while he's gathering his thoughts to open the door of the cupboard.
"LIGHT! BAD!"
What the –
"Don't you know how to knock, Evans?"
Potter, seemingly out of is reverie, peeks over the side of the door. "Wha – "
My throat is in knots. "Oh, my god…"
"I'M BLIND!" Potter declares over my shoulder, slapping his hand over his eyes and collapsing onto the floor in a pitiful heap of manliness.
"Wha – Hah…who…wh –" The connection between my brain and mouth have been severed. There is absolute silence for a few seconds, before the most unlikely candidate to be in a broom cupboard (!) steps out of the shadows and into the soft yellow light of the torches lining the walls of the castle.
"Hello there, my little cherubs!" Black shouts flamboyantly, his grin bright and bubbly. He observes the both of us idly, as we are unable to form coherent sentences. He then smiles sadly, claps Potter on the shoulder, and warmly advises, "Next time, knock, m'kay? Toodles!"
Sliding easily back into darkness, he reaches out a hand to shut the door.
"Get the hell off me, Black," the girl in the shadows snaps. I can hear a bit of a struggle as they untangle themselves in the tiny space. Black groans frustratedly, but obliges.
Wait a second. I think know that voice. Though I'm probably hallucinating. Because making out with Black in a broom cupboard in the middle of the night is possibly the last thing she would do along with touching Snape or sleeping with Wormtail…
"Lily? Hello?"
"Jamsie, your bird's gone catatonic again."
"Padfoot!" I hear Potter's shrill shriek piercing through my daze, as I awaken to see him pointing an accusing finger at his friend. "What are you – what – how…what?!"
Black knocks over stacks of brooms out of the door and they roll away, scattering across the hall. He eventually emerges after them, dryly stating, "We talked about this – remember what I told you about birds and bees, Prongs? Well right now, the mama bird and the papa bee are …"
My eyes are bulging way out of control, and I no longer hear what he is saying. Potter is peeking at me through his fingers as though I may explode. On the other hand, my best friend just stepped out of a broom cupboard with her mortal enemy, so cut me some slack.
"M…Mina? Oh, I'm going to be sick."
I am torn between violently overreacting, and not reacting at all.
Black smirks at me, a giddy giggle escaping his lips. "Indeed, it is she," he quips, as his eyes drift down Mina's face and towards her….Oh, god. Boys should have their eyes sporked out.
Glaring daggers, Mina slaps him across the head. "FOCUS! Now is not the time to be staring at my arse!"
"You're completely off your bird," Black responds lazily, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest. "I – I wasn't staring at your arse," he laughs, a short, nervous laugh, "I was – erm – I was admiring your jean pockets. Yes," he nods vehemently, seemingly satisfied with the excuse, "They are quite lovely – is that gold embroidery?"
"Smooth, Padfoot."
Mina quirks her eyebrow at Black, not at all amused or impressed. "Shut up," she drawls, "Just because you are remotely attractive does not give you the right to yammer away endlessly."
I'm about to cut in with my zillion questions, mainly what, how, why and WHAT, but Black, who has obviously missed the entire point of what she has just said, pipes up hopefully. "So you think I'm hot? Irresistible? A total babe?"
She merely rolls her eyes, but I can see her hiding a smile. "Luke warm. Just above room temperature."
Black's grin stretches across his face as he throws his arm around her shoulders. "And he is right again, Ladies and Gentlemen!" He declares joyously, "I always knew you had a thing for me. It was just inevitable. All that fighting and book chucking. You just wanted to get in my pants. I should feel used, but I don't."
Mina raises a delicate eyebrow. "Do you ever shut up? I wait, and I wait, and I wait, but it just never happens."
"Was that a rhetorical question?" Potter peeks his head out from behind me and asks, his tone slightly pained. "Because I can definitely answer it."
"Shut up, Prongs. Mama Bird and Papa Bee are talking. Go play in your room."
While Potter and his lover are bickering, Mina manages to catch my eye. I'm not sure what I see more of in her face – embarrassment, regret, satisfaction or just pure self-loathing.
"So," she shifts uncomfortably, her hands first in front of her, then crossed across her chest, then behind her, and then in her hair in exasperation. "So what exactly did you see, Lily?"
"More importantly, what did you think of my performance?" Black cuts in, smiling and inane smile that disappears following a particularly large punch to his shoulder.
Potter's face distorts to the point of unrecognition as he cringes, a visible shiver passing through his body. "Hands…tongues…yours…hers…" he hacks loudly, the sound that comes out of him something between a terrified yelp and a scream. "IT WAS HORRIBLE!"
"You were," I gulp, "You were like Siamese twins joined at the tongue." What a great first sentence to come out of my mouth in the last ten minutes.
While Mina has the decency to look embarrassed, Black, obviously, lacks such a quality. He laughs heartily at our face expressions, and leaning against the wall, puts up his hands in defense. "Hey, it really wasn't my idea, love," he says defensively, "Your friend here threw herself at me and demanded I satisfy her. What's a bloke to do, I ask you?"
"Excuse me?" Mina shrieks, the sound sharp cutting like a blade. "Which planet were you on? I did not throw myself at you! Newsflash, moron; you were on me!"
Black scoffs easily, "Oh, please. You were asking for it."
"Who jumped on who?" Mina demands angrily, poking him in the chest. "Who made the first move? Hm?"
He scoffs again, but this time, it's a panicked sound. "Hah! Well, I…you…You pulled me! And I was…drunk…firewhiskey…so…my center of gravity – balance was off! And you were sending me begging signals! HA!" He is so triumphant when he finishes that sentence, you'd think he'd won an award of some kind.
"Oh, please," Mina spits out, almost shouting. "Hey," she demands, looking in turns at me and Potter, "Alright, anyone here think that I would send Black begging signals? Please," she prompts kindly, "Show of hands."
Unsurprising, that Potter and my hands stay put, while Black's hand shoots into the air. "Hey!" he barks angrily, his sentiments directed mainly at Potter, "I'm your best mate! You gonna belive me, or some girl?!"
"I refuse to star in your psychodrama," Potter remarks easily, grimacing.
"Some girl?" Mina echoes, her voice worryingly soft. "Some girl?" There it is. She's screaming now. "You weren't calling me that when we were in there!"
Disturbingly disturbing images in my head. A lot of them. Brilliant. Oh, poor, poor brooms. They need therapy, I'm sure. Sadly, broom therapy does not exist. Maybe I should just burn the lot of them and save them the trouble of being emotionally retarded for the rest of their lives.
Losing his trail of perfect conversational eloquence, Black begins spluttering wildly. "Oh, come on pet, don't be like that – I mean – I was just – you know, it's boy talk – I – "
He reaches out to her shoulder, but her glare freezes him in his tracks. "Did I mention the kick in the groin you'll be receiving if you touch me?"
With sudden, and in my personal, humble opinion, bloody untimely bravery, he reaches out and grabs her shoulder. "Look, Taylor, I – "
"No kids, Black," she whispers, her tone almost tangibly scorching his hand off of her shoulder. "Touch me again, and no kids."
Suddenly looking nauseous, Black clutches at his head, groaning in agony, doubling over. "Aghh, my head," he moans, grunting and whining. "I think I'm sobering up. It's horrible. Ah…God…I wish I was dead…"
Mina exhales loudly out of her nose. "Well, she grumbles, still glaring at him, clearly her homicidal tendencies fighting a tough battle to win her over, "If you close your eyes and wish real hard…"
She continues glowering at Black, ignoring his spluttered apologies, while I get distracted by Potter dropping to the floor and fake-vomiting.
"Oh, suck it up you ninny!" Black finally snaps, turning around and breaking painful eye-contact with Mina. "You know, if you got some once in a while, maybe you'd be more accepting of my conquests instead of acting like a bloody three year-old!"
Oh. Oh, oh, oh.
Oh, no.
This is so very bad.
So very, very, bad.
Behind Black, Mina's mouth visibly drops open. I cringe, because I know what's coming.
"Your conquests?" She snarls, enunciating the last word. Her eyes are maniacal with something reminiscent of intense blood-thirst. "You make me sick!" Her yell hangs in the air as she turns around aggressively, a swirl of murderous wind following her action, as she storms away back down the hallway and up towards the Gryffindor Tower.
Black immediately breaks from the conversation and bursts into a run after her, screaming apologies, chased away by Potter's incredibly loud laughter.
I quirk my eyebrow at him accusingly, but he doesn't seem fazed.
"What?" he demands defensively, pausing to look at me, still clutching his stomach in painful laughter. "What kind of friend would I be if I didn't derive joy from his misery?"
Review? Look! Blue button! Lalalalala…
