Chapter 13

The Way of the World

– why, one makes lovers as fast as one pleases, and they live as long as one pleases, and they die as soon as one pleases; and then, if one pleases, one makes more –

"Oh I'm so sorry, Anise, so, so sorry. Oh please let me make it up to you!" was the first thing she hollered out after stepping inside her dorm room in Hogwarts. She hadn't even opened the door properly yet before declaring her apology passionately.

Marlene quickly shuffled in from behind her and out again, but Chelsea just sat on her bed, brushing her hair with a raised eyebrow and clear interest.

Arlene did not care a pin for the other girls—she had to make amends, now. There might not be another day for anything, and everything had to be done today. (She was, however, secretly a little pleased that Anise had not let the other girls know that when she departed, they had been in the middle of a huge fight.)

Anise flung a peanut at her.

Arlene dragged Anise out of bed. Now now now, she had to start living now.

"What are you doing," Anise snapped at her, trying to pull her arm away without ripping her delicate, kitten-themed nightgown.

"Living," Arlene said emphatically, and Anise just rolled her eyes, letting Arlene get whatever melodrama she had in her system out. Which was exactly Arlene was planning on doing—by asking Sirius out. Oh, she wasn't going to ask Sirius out for herself, no, she was going to ask Sirius out for Anise. What if tomorrow, Sirius got hit with a Bludger and fell to his death? Or Anise choked on one of those peanuts that she was always munching? There was not time to dawdle, no time for her to pause and think and be confused again. She was still mad at Anise, for being stupid before she left, but she also knew that she loved Anise and they were best friends. And that meant that Arlene had to be the bigger person. Anise was just being touchy and stupid. Anise denounced the Hollywood kiss because Anise had never experienced a romantic Hollywood kiss. She had seen Anise kiss before—this guy from Slytherin—and it was like a polite ritual. Like a couple who were both jaded and having affairs, trying to imitate what it was like kissing somebody they loved. It was a divorce kiss. She had even seen Anise kiss James this one time when Anise was too drunk and high, and it was more like Anise was trying to prove that she could kiss. Anise just needed to feel the deep current of emotions underlying a kiss. It would all change when she got Sirius to kiss Anise. After all, wasn't it better to understand that art was life, instead of just wrinkling her pretty nose at it? And then they wouldn't be fighting anymore, and they could go back to being best friends and Anise could help her plot out how to seduce Remus Lupin.

But first things first.

"Sirius," Arlene chirped at the boy on the sofa, ignoring Anise's sudden stiffness. He was draped diagonally across the entire length of the sofa, one leg falling off and barely grazing the floor, with his arms stretched out over his head. What a tool, she thought, for he must know how glorious he looked, the edge of his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of his stomach, showing exactly how his hipbones jutted out, straining skin much too pale to be real. "Sirius," she said again, to no avail, as the boy refused to move an inch.

"Hurmph," he gave her a grunt. Sirius treated Arlene nicely for about a week—and by nicely Arlene meant delicately—before reverting back to his usual nonchalance. Arlene hated being treated delicately anyway.

"Do you have plans for the weekend yet?" It was a Hogsmeade weekend—she imagined that Sirius and Anise would get to know each other in a tea shop over scones; or maybe go hiking along a trail; or they could fly over to the mountains and see the sunset at the very peak. Something old Hollywood romantic escapade. She could flick through some old films for inspiration later.

"Of course I do," and before Arlene could pull back her thoughts from her romantic visions, Sirius continued, "I've to go with this bird and probably tell her to stop imagining that we're bit of an item. I asked her to the ball, not to be my bloody bride."

"Oh," Arlene said, half reprimanding and half relieved.

"You're such a careless heartbreaker," Anise said, the closest to admitting her own feelings for Sirius in her entire life.

Sirius lifted his head by a fraction, just to be able to look them in their eyes. "I promised her friend that I'd take her to the ball, how is this my bleeding fault again?"

"Is this the sonnet girl?" Arlene asked, remembering some bet about his ability to impersonate Shakespeare.

"Yeah," Sirius smiled, uncharacteristically sheepish. "I think I might have a future as a poet."

Anise scoffed openly.

"What about afterwards? It won't take that long to undo a date," Arlene tried again.

"I've to make sure she's okay," Sirius said absentmindedly.

With a flash of realization, Arlene understood that the 'she' was not the sonnet girl, but the girl's friend, for whom Sirius had done more than his usual share for. Too late, it was too late—Arlene nodded dejectedly and walked away, not even caring to find out who these two girls were. Too late already. Well, it was good to find out sooner rather than later; it would have been so awkward for Anise to get in the middle of this.

"Let's go get dinner," Anise said behind her.

Arlene nodded and followed her. Anise wasn't heading for the dining hall though. Instead, they moved against the students gushing from all directions towards the dining hall. Anise didn't seem to have a target destination, just aimlessly wandering. Arlene dutifully followed her with silence and soft steps. Silence was occasionally broke by Arlene's stomach rumbling.

"You like him too, don't you," Anise spoke unexpectedly.

"What do you mean?" Arlene stalled.

"How a girl likes a boy," Anise responded simply.

Arlene pondered, and conceded that, "Yes, I suppose that I only ever took up to insulting him because I secretly liked him."

"Liked?" Anise pressed at just the right place.

Arlene shrugged, and felt like this was the perfect moment to start explaining her planned Italian seduction of Remus Lupin.

Who was sitting in the library. They passed the open door of the library and she saw him in the corner of her eye and without thinking stopped. Arlene had originally been surprised to find that in the broad English light, she still felt strongly attracted to Remus; she had originally chalked it up to being drunk at the pool and the stress of the following—

It wasn't that Remus wasn't handsome, of course, in an understated sort of way, with a pale face, soft wisps of almost-blond hair, a boy's large clear pupils in his lined eyes, and a sweetness to his cheeks. It was just that Arlene was far more used to good looks like Sirius's, all sharp and aristocratic and breathtaking, with cheekbones that were freshly sharpened each morning and eyes that seemed to speak as if you were the only one in the world. Or looks like Lloyd Curtiss's, exotic and sensual and inviting, with a sentimentalist's plush mouth and an explorer's tanned skin. Hell, half of the football team back at her old school looked like gritty war heroes without so much as ever stepping onto non-paved ground. Even Caius was pretty decent once you got past—

She just wanted to kiss Remus, and that was that—Arlene wouldn't question herself, only what to do now. She felt comfortable around him, and she didn't have to try so hard to make herself stop thinking.

"Oh Arlene," Anise broke into her thoughts, sounding exceptionally sagacious, "Don't, just don't get involved with him. You'll break his heart."

"Why would you say that," Arlene asked with a frown, "I'd never break his heart."

Anise gave a tut, "That pathetic little mop of a boy—Bryant—still has the biggest crush on you."

"Well it was just one kiss," Arlene justified hotly, "after five rounds of shots. He should really know better. Besides, it's not like I go about breaking people's heart intentionally." If it sometimes happened, it was to no fault of hers, just bad timing, maybe.

"Yeah, but Remus one of the good people at this school, and good people are hard to find."

It was true, but, "Doesn't that make him all the better for me?"

"No," Anise rolled her eyes, "You two will inevitably drive each other crazy, but you'll always spring back to life easier than him; you always will."

"I don't appreciate that," Arlene frowned deeper. It was true that she fell in love easily and recovered just as easily. For Arlene, the underlying truth of the universe was not chaos, or even meaninglessness, but rather romance. But she never meant to hurt anybody.

"It's a compliment, sweetheart," Anise pacified, "But it also means that I feel sorry for him."

"Well I was hoping you'd help me with my masterful seduction," Arlene couldn't stop her voice from growing just a little whiny.

"Of course I'll help," Anise waved offhandedly, "Just saying I don't approve is all. How are you going to get into his pants?"

"Don't be vulgar, Anise. And you know, get a few shots in him and loosen him up a little." It wasn't that she didn't want to sleep with him—especially since she found the way he bit the tip of his quill when he was absorbed into reading utterly and inappropriately arousing—but she had bad experiences beginning relationships with too much sex. Maybe just a bit of sex then.

"That's your plan of seduction?" Anise was torn between amusement and horror.

Arlene shrugged. It was as good a plan as any, given how Remus was subtly avoiding her. He didn't ignore her or anything, but she could tell that he had retreated back into his shell the instant they stepped on British soil. If Arlene did not know him better, she would have thought he was playing hard to get. But instead, she was just confused. Did she dream up their moments of intimacy and understanding, back at home—back in California (no longer home)? She did not take him for somebody who was in it for her money, nor was he a stranger to the ways of the world—so why did he treat her like, like a classmate?

Really, it was time to end this dillydallying.

.

It was escapism, to be sure, but whoever said that love had to start from something real?

It was only natural for them to comment on birds, and since the two of them—Arlene and her friend Anise—paused right where they could see them, of course James and Sirius started whispering about the two.

"… Her nose is too round, and she has no cheekbones. She has a nice mouth, I suppose, but I can tell that her eyes wouldn't look nice without makeup. Arlene is just the opposite: her chin is too square, and her cheeks are too long. If you sort of merge the two, you might have a girl who's pretty. I'd say Arlene's more fetching though, just because she has that stuck-up bitch look." Sirius was being harsh, but Remus couldn't help but smile.

"Ouch," Remus said, trying to not sound too amused.

"That is harsh, Padfoot," James agreed.

"There has yet a girl to be born whom I think looks perfect. All I'm giving is realistic criticism. Isn't it crueler to flatter falsely?"

"I suppose," Remus gave tentatively, although the logic bothered him. Remus looked at Larka, who was only a few feet away, picking out a book on the shelves—but she should be out of earshot. Still, Sirius should be more careful.

"It's not all about looks," Peter quibbled.

"I'm afraid," Sirius said somberly, "that you shall find, Mister Wormtail, it is indeed all about looks for most parts of life." Sirius had perhaps meant it as a joke, but the humor was lost on Peter, who just tried very hard to not look the reflection of himself in Sirius's large, liquid eyes.

"But you know, trying is halfway pretty." Before Remus knew it, he was speaking up. "Not too much trying, but a little makeup and an hour curling hair every morning never hurt a bird. I do like Arlene's hair." What he didn't say out loud was that when she smiled, her cheeks push up and made a happy crinkling right around her eyes. Her skin was also nice under sunlight.

"And she does have those tits; always look perky," James gave his opinion.

"That too," Remus agreed gravely.

"I think she has push-up bras to do that, Prongs," Peter said wisely, having two sisters who flaunted their femininity around their house without shame, humiliating only little Peter who really didn't want to hear the details about icky time of the month.

Remus shrugged. "You see what you see, is it important how it's there?"

"Well," Peter argued, "The idea is that one day you'll wake up next to a bird stark naked, without all that isn't it?"

"Yes, but by then I should hope it's not all about just looks," Remus the sentimentalist said, "And once you turn off the lights everything's kind of all there."

"Well my Lily-flower just naturally shines through anything, even the darkness," James said dreamily. "And under the sun, her hair sparkles and her arse is firm and her skin is glowing."

"You know that she puts on foundation, right?" Sirius burst his bubble.

"Which only enhances her natural floral beauty. And don't you know a lot about makeup," said James vindictively.

"Being beautiful is kind of a Black tradition," Sirius grinned, "and the art of being beautiful is mostly making yourself beautiful."

"Oooh," James dragged on his syllable, "how long does it take pwetty Siri to get ready in the morning and put on his rose cheeks?"

"Rose cheeks would not become me," Sirius laughed, "and not half as long as you trying to tame your hair."

But then Arlene looked this way and seemed to be approaching. Remus kicked Sirius under the table and smiled at her. It wouldn't do to appear less than a gentleman in front of the bird that gave him funny feelings. Not that anything would ever happen. He wouldn't let it.

(Was he trying to protect her from the wolf, or protect himself because she obviously was plunging into romance to escape mourning? Arlene would be okay—every child got over the death of a parent, sooner or later—but he might not be.)

Note: 'why, one makes lovers as fast as one pleases, and they live as long as one pleases, and they die as soon as one pleases; and then, if one pleases, one makes more' is from William Congreve's play, The Way of the World, or otherwise can be known as, Everybody is In Love With Mirabel. Seriously, most of the female characters, including the ladylove's own aunt and guardian, is in love with Mirabel, who is just a perfect, perfect Restoration man, cynical and unsentimental, but also gallant and very perceptive. His ladylove, Millamant, is every ounce his counterpart, being spoilt, flippant, and utterly charming despite and because of her faults. Their love is true, but they also never lose sight of the importance of her dowry, the battle for which is the main plot of this play.

Author's Note: Sooo, now that I've started work, the updating will come slower (a lot slower...) unfortunately. But I won't abandon ship! I have the story planned out, but I just need to squeeze out some time to write. I know it's generally a cop out or just a stupid excuse to say 'I'm busy', but believe me, when I say 'busy' I mean 16, 17 hours work days, 7 days a week. In any case, the romantic parts are vamping up!