Chapter Twenty - Dear Felicity in the Lead:
On Saturday morning, Charlie ate breakfast with Remus and Peter. James, still upset over Gryffindor's shameless loss to Ravenclaw, had hauled the team onto the pitch at dawn where they remained three hours later, still running drills and practicing manoeuvres.
"Obviously," he'd snarled the previous night, after announcing the training plans, "we overestimated our natural ability last match! Thought we could wing it! But now we know: WE ARE NOTHING – WITHOUT – PRACTICE."
As Charlie, Pete and Remus discussed the improved range of Filibuster's fireworks (Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat), she glanced down the house table and saw Leonie sitting with Sara and Lily. The curly-haired girl caught her gaze and quickly returned to her porridge without so much as a smile.
Charlie pursed her lips. Despite what Sara had warned them about Rurik, Leonie was still being slightly cold towards her. It seemed she still regarded Charlie's reluctance to reject the half-Veela as some sort of betrayal against Leonie herself. Charlie sighed. She'll get over it with time.
After breakfast, she took her books to the library. Her afternoon services had lessened her intolerance of the place, and there were times when she even found the muffled silence now comforting.
She spent a good three hours finishing an Arithmancy chart, then writing up a Charms essay and a Potions evaluation. Feeling fairly proud of the products of her labour, she left her study desk (one she particularly remembered scrubbing a vivid diagram of the male genitalia off of) to return a borrowed textbook.
Knowing the library as well as she did, Charlie took a shortcut through the back aisles. She was about to turn into Aisle 242 (one of the very last) to make her way into the Alchemic History section when the stifled, yet unmistakable sounds of a couple snogging made her slow to a wary halt.
She held a quick internal debate of two sides: either turn back and take a doubly long route to return her book, or continue up the dark aisle and, with false authority, completely demerit and banish the reckless couple. Deciding up on the latter, she rounded the corner with trepidation... and almost screamed at what she saw.
About halfway up the aisle, two students were kissing passionately against the shelf. And there was no mistaking who those two students were.
"Lily?" she choked, stumbling forward. "James?"
They jumped apart at once, Lily shoving James so hard he almost hit the next shelf.
"Charlie!" she squeaked. Her hair was mussed and her cherry lip gloss smudged.
Charlie's mouth hung open. Her eyes felt as if they were going to dry up, she couldn't stop staring. She felt a tick developing in her left one.
James wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his dirt-smeared Quidditch robe, unable to keep a smirk off his face.
"Hey Frazier. Lily was just, er ... helping me get rid of a little itch."
No doubt, he thought this was funny because of the rashes. Lily obviously didn't think so. She shrieked at him to shut up.
Charlie thought she was going to faint.
Fifteen minutes later, she was hurrying across the west bridge with no particular direction other than away from the library. Her breathing was on the verge of hyperventilation as she tried to come to terms with the secret she had just come privy to.
Despite her prior suspicions that yes, perhaps Lily's hatred towards James was turning into more of a facade, a product of habit more than anything else ... having the proof thrust before her in such an inappropriate manner was something like a life-changing experience.
Lily and James?
Charlie shuddered.
She was nearing the Defence classrooms on the other side when Rurik strolled into view.
"What's wrong? You seem tense," he frowned when she attempted a weak smile.
"It's nothing, just - you know… work."
Somewhere between the couple trying to explain themselves and Charlie fleeing in the opposite direction, gasping that she didn't want to know or understand any part of their warped love/hate affair – they had made her swear not to tell a single soul.
"Come here," said Rurik, pulling her towards a large arched window. "I will make you feel better."
They sat down and he began to softly massage her shoulders. True to his word, it felt heavenly. Charlie let her shoulders droop and gazed despondently at the floor, lost in her thoughts.
After a while, he asked, "Have you decided whether you would like to be my date tonight? I have not asked anyone else, you know."
Charlie sighed. She'd forgotten about his proposal, but either way she knew her answer.
"Rurik ..." she squirmed, "I don't think ..."
"Ah." He paused in his ministrations before moving lower to rub her arms comfortingly. But then he paused again, this time with his fingers tensing, and asked, "Is it because of my cousin Sara?"
Charlie tensed also. You definitely can't let it slip to him that you know.
"No," she said. "Not because of Sara."
"Then... someone else?"
Charlie slumped once more. "It's because of Leonie, Rurik. She fancies you." But then she winced, remembering Sara's other words. Neither of you should be looking to get involved with Rurik ... It's just too risky.
Rurik's hands were still on Charlie's arms.
"Leonie... Franks?" he asked. "Ah. Yes... I have noticed a little, I think. But Charlie," her took her chin in his hand and tilted her face towards him with a small smile, "it cannot be helped that I do not return those feelings."
Charlie stared at him, wide-eyed. Her chin felt awkward at this angle and his fingers felt... grubby.
"Leonie is a nice girl," he continued, with his slight Russian burr and kind smile, "but I am not attracted to her."
"Yes," said Charlie, "but –"
"No 'but', Charlie."
He leaned forward. He was going to kiss her. At once, a distant part of her mind revolted, but then his beautiful blue eyes met hers, and Charlie felt herself lean in also. Rurik was going to kiss her. Her mind grew foggy with that one blissful thought, but soon even that begin to disperse. He was growing closer, and her mind was going blank ...
It's the Veela magic.
Charlie jerked away with a small cry. Screwing her eyes shut, she leapt to her feet and yelped, "Rurik!"
Her eyes opened to see him watching her, looking gorgeously confused. Quickly, before he could affect her again, she blurted, "I can't go with you tonight. I don't want to. I'm sorry. I'll see you later."
And then, for the second time that day, she fled.
She spent the rest of the day in her dormitory, finishing every piece of homework she'd been assigned and then writing a letter, devoid of any real substance, to Gee. She was still feeling dismal when at last the sun began to set, splaying ribbons of its golden light across the Hogwarts grounds. The dormitory door swung open and Lily, Sara and Leonie bustled inside.
"Come on, Charl, it's time to get ready!" sung Sara, and she threw something bright orange into her lap.
Charlie grimaced, watching the three girls spread across the room and pull out their costumes. Sara unfolded a white Roman toga.
"I think I'm going to pass on tonight," said Charlie, fingering the orange material. "I'm not feeling too well..."
"Bollocks!" cried Sara. "I knew you'd say that! So did your friend Mac Ackerley – she gave me that costume to give to you."
The more Charlie protested, the more Sara insisted. Eventually, simply because to protest any longer would only drive her steeped irritation into outright anger, she pulled on the costume and allowed Sara to powder her face before tying her hair into her regular pony tail.
"Really?" asked Sara, eying the plain hair style.
Charlie frowned grumpily. "It goes with the costume."
A velvet blanket of darkness had descended over Hogwarts when the four Gryffindor girls finally ascended the stairwell to Slughorn's quarters.
Lily hung back when they reached the landing so that she and Charlie could walk together. The two of them had barely spoken in the dormitory. Every time Lily tried to make conversation, Charlie's mind was bombarded with the vision of what she'd witnessed in the library and she could only stammer and mumble out a jerky response.
"Oh, stop it!" Lily now hissed, catching Charlie's uncomfortable glance her way. The redhead was looking very impressive in her dirt-smeared wedding dress and purposely tangled, wild red locks. She wore very pale makeup, save for the dark circles around her eyes and the deep, dark maroon of her lips. When she smiled, her teeth were bewitched to appear as if they were rotting – but only slightly. ("I don't want to look completely repulsive, just enough to lend some authenticity…").
"You haven't told anyone, have you?" she demanded.
Charlie shook her head.
"Good," Lily exhaled. The look she next gave Charlie seemed almost vulnerable. "I didn't get to tell you this before, because – well – you ran away." She stopped walking and touched Charlie's arm nervously. "Please don't … don't think any less of me because of what you saw. I mean, I know I've always said I hated James, but…" For the first time, Lily Evans seemed not to know what she wanted to say.
Taking advantage of the silence, Charlie (after deciding a few answers wouldn't hurt) asked, "How long have you two been … you know?"
"Not long!" Lily shook her head, eyes earnest. "Only a few days, really…." She opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something more, but hesitated.
Again, Charlie leapt in. "He really fancies you, you know. Genuinely. It's not all talk."
Lily's eyes downcast. "I know."
Charlie watched her for a second.
"Don't hurt him."
She hesitated before turning and hurrying to catch up with Leonie and Sara, who, ablaze in the block of light that shone out of Slughorn's quarters and into the darkening halls, were eagerly passing a suit of armour and through the open threshold. As Charlie approached the arched entrance, the guarding armour lowered its flag bearer ominously across her path. The light from the party flooded her face and she squinted a little as she informed it mildly that she was 'attending at the request of Prongs'.
The armour retracted the flag bearer with a stiff nod and Charlie entered, Lily following soundlessly behind.
The ceilings and walls had been draped with gold and fiery orange hangings; the room was filled by the emberish glow from various lamps throughout the room. It looked to Charlie as if they were all standing inside a vast, glowing jack-o-lantern. The room was crowded with a selection of Hogwarts students (mostly from senior year levels) and various other associates of Slughorn's, most of whom seemed to have forgone costumes. Live bats, possibly the same ones that flew about during Hogwarts' own Halloween feast, swooped from the rafters, fluttering in and out of the ceiling drapes while a thin, sallow looking man with an innumerable amount of fingers dramatically played an organ at the far end of the room.
"Devilled Hugglebird eggs, m'lady?"
Her mood lifted at once, and Charlie grinned at Selwyn as he flourished a tray of delicacies under her nose, only to frown as she took in his sharp bow tie and black tuxedo.
"What are you doing?"
"What do you mean?" He frowned. "This is my costume."
"Oh! Really?"
His face fell before he smirked wryly. "Nah. I'm serving – Slughorn's paying me well, you see, and I'm saving for that new Cleansweep. Dad's old Shooting Star's got this incurable left lean."
He scowled upon noticing her costume.
"Oh, so all of a sudden you're a fan of – not only the disgraceful Chudley Cannons – but shamelessly short skirts as well?"
Charlie made a face, tugging at the hem of her violent orange cheerleader uniform. "It happens to be your sister's!"
Selwyn's lip curled. "Of course it is."
He strode off to serve a pair of Hufflepuff witches, leaving Charlie alone to wander through the decorated room until someone grabbed her from behind. It was Lily.
"Who did you say gave you this dress?" she asked with a tremble of panic, her voice close to Charlie's ear.
Charlie turned with caution. "Remus?"
Lily looked as if she were about to cry. "Then how –"
"LILY FLOWER." James was striding towards them with a massive smile gracing his features.
Charlie's eyes widened. His skin was almost as pale as Lily's. He also had dark circles under his eyes.
"Oh no," Lily whimpered.
"James," demanded Charlie, "are you a –"
"A zombie groom!" he declared with flare. "What – a – coincidence, Lilypad, that the two of us have decided upon these obviously complementing costumes. There is only one explanation for it, I'm afraid, and we must embrace it with pride: we are soulmates." He bowed gallantly, his hair almost grazing the floor. "My bride."
"I'm leaving," said Lily flatly, whirling around.
"For the dance floor, I hope!" James caught her arm merrily and waltzed the two of them off, ignoring her indignant protests.
"Little prat!" Charlie exclaimed with revelation as Pete, having approached behind James, drew up beside her. "This was all a well-schemed ploy wasn't it? He knew I'd never wear anything that frilly! ... Slimy git."
Charlie did a double take upon noticing Pete's costume.
"Pete! Why are you dressed as a kneazle?" She took in his pink, fluffy roundness with disdain as he dismissively munched on a savoury.
"See that bird over there?" He nodded towards one the Hufflepuffs Selwyn was chatting to. "Overheard her talking in Care of Magical Creatures. Loves kneazles, she does. All she wants to do when she sees one is cuddle the brains out of it."
Charlie raised her eyebrows, impressed with his game strategy.
"Go talk to her," she encouraged. "Selwyn will introduce you."
Finishing his food, Pete dusted his hands.
"Yeah, I think I will." He puffed out his chest and strode off as purposefully as one dressed as a kneazle can.
For a while, Charlie mingled. She weaved through guests, holding conversation with various students and acquaintances. One man, who Slughorn later pointed out to be the elderly Gringotts architect Gregory Hathaway, was delighted by her costume choice and launched into a reminiscent retelling of the last time the Cannons won the League Cup – when he was six and a half years old. At one point, she passed a group of serious looking warlocks, each puffing on pipes that emitted hazy lavender coloured smoke. She must have inhaled some, because a wispy tickle remained in her throat long enough for her to seek out the drinks table in order to try and flush it down. She found such a table, bedecked with an assortment of coloured glass bottles, and poured herself a red, sweet smelling juice.
As she sipped, she spotted Pete sitting rather close to the pink-cheeked, giggling Hufflepuff and smiled. Then she noticed that James and Lily were no longer on the dance floor – and couldn't be seen anywhere else in the room either. Her expression darkened, thinking about where they had disappeared off to and why. Randy teenagers.
She took another sip of what she now assumed was cranberry juice and noticed Sara also making her way to the drink table. With a surprised, hopeful little squeeze of her insides, Charlie saw that Leonie was following pleasantly behind.
Up in the dormitory Charlie had been contemplating whether or not she should tell Leonie about what Rurik had said, about not being able to return her feelings. She hadn't been able to make a decision, and at that moment Charlie was glad for it. She had a feeling that if she had said something, Leonie wouldn't be looking as good-natured as she did now. Her eyes, like Sara's, danced in the light and she looked as if she were about to smile at Charlie (truly smile!) when her eyes suddenly grew troubled and she very quickly distracted Sara. They chatted for a moment before Sara nodded and grinned, and they began to move in the opposite direction.
Charlie frowned. What had –
She turned to her side, where Rurik was quietly pouring himself a drink.
"Rurik!" she started, though regretted it almost instantly once she saw the disappointment with which he regarded her. Guilt washed over her as she remembered the confusion in his eyes as she'd blurted out her rejection. She offered him a slight smile. "... Hello."
"Hello Charlie."
Why had she let Sara convince her to attend?
As Rurik finished pouring his drink, Charlie closed her eyes, took one deep breathe, and then turned to him and said, "Look, Rurik... I'm sorry about what happened earlier today. Honestly, I didn't mean for it to come out so harshly."
Rurik shook his head. "Do not apologise, Charlie. I should not have tried to kiss you. I just ... forgive me for sounding so conceited, but... most girls like it when I try to kiss them."
Charlie bet they did.
There was an edge to Rurik's voice, and perhaps that's why Charlie was so eager to make sure, "We're still friends, right?"
He took a sip of his drink before answering.
"Yes," he nodded, though his mouth was a firm line. "We will be."
She nodded too, hating the tension that still hung in the air. In further efforts to apologise, she murmured after a pause, "I didn't know you felt that way."
Rurik straightened. "I should go," he said roughly, and downed his drink. "Besides, I do not believe this one is too fond of me." He nodded to where Sirius was making his way over from the entrance before striding off into the crowd of guests.
Charlie hastily sipped the last of her juice and tried to follow suit – but she wasn't quick enough. By the time she'd set her glass down and turned, Sirius was blocking her path.
He seemed as surprised by the sudden confrontation as she was, though it was she who after hesitating uttered the first quick, "Hi."
"Hi," he returned. He looked tensely down at her and she looked back. She noticed the unmistakable imprint of two turquoise-painted lips on his right cheek and, struggling to keep her face neutral, forced herself to focus on the rest of his make-up.
"Let me guess," she said, taking in the now familiar dark circles and pale skin, coupled with his dusty, rotting tuxedo. "Zombie best man."
"Got it in one," he congratulated her mildly. He took her costume in with one long, sweeping glance, one that – although not much different from the one Selwyn had given her earlier – had Charlie's cheeks tinge with pink.
Sirius was an avid fan of the Chudley Cannons.
An unmistakable smirk lifted at the very corner of his lips as he moved past her to pour a drink.
Charlie watched him, feeling apprehensive. They hadn't spoken properly for days and she was beginning to think that perhaps she was being too stubborn… After all, they were meant to be friends, weren't they?
Someone slipped passed her to stand close to Sirius, placing their well-manicured hand on his bicep.
It was Felicity Parkinson, and she accepted a drink from him before the two of them turned and she noticed Charlie.
"Hello," she said after a moment of eying her from top to bottom, though the impatient, demanding gaze which she fixed upon her suggested she didn't mean the word as a simple greeting. Charlie ignored this.
"Hi," she said with faux cheer. Her gaze flicked between the renown Head Girl and Sirius with a sour amusement. Felicity had asked him to the party. And he had said yes.
Her eyes locked with Sirius'. Dressed as an aquamarine mermaid, with coloured strips running through her blonde hair and a glistening, scaly aqua tail from which her feet protruded (with toes painted a matching shade); Felicity's lipstick was the exact turquoise that marked his cheek.
"Did you want a drink or something?" asked Felicity loudly, clearly not happy with the staring match between Charlie and her date.
Charlie tore her gaze from Sirius' hard one and regarded the ill-tempered Ravenclaw with another wry grin. She shook her head. "I'm fine, thanks."
She shot one last look at Sirius, who stared back unashamed, and turned to leave when out of nowhere, Professor Slughorn appeared and seized her by the shoulders. He was dressed as an Arabian sultan, in shimmering burgundy trousers with a matching vest and turban.
"Miss Frazier!" he exclaimed jovially, as if seeing her was the highlight of the past decade. Obviously, the professor had been poured a firewhiskey glass too many since the last time they'd spoken.
"Good evening," she told him, amused.
"Do you hear that?"
"Hear what, sir?"
His eyes twinkled and his lips stretched wide. "They're beginning the Courtship, my dear!"
Indeed, the opening melody of the traditional dance could be heard from the organ. With one quick look Charlie noticed that witches and warlocks, along with pairs of Hogwarts' students, were taking to the centre of the room, which seemed to have been cleared for the dance.
"…such prestige – my favourite dance by far!" Slughorn was saying, his round face rather excited beneath the turban and close to Charlie's. "I do insist that we all join in!"
Charlie laughed politely. "It is a beautiful dance sir, but I think I'll sit out today."
"Nonsense! I won't hear of it!" His grip tightened on her arm and he moved as if he was going to fling her onto the dance floor himself, but Charlie dug her heels in.
"I – I don't know how!" she blurted. This was a lie; she danced it almost every year at the Potter's Christmas party.
At this Slughorn looked absolutely affronted.
"Nonsense!" he cried again. His gaze latched onto Sirius with a fierce determination. "Black!"
He thrust Charlie forward triumphantly (who despite herself shot Sirius a pleading look) and all but shouted, "Here's a man who knows how to dance the Courtship! Saw it with my own eyes at Aurnerie's ball! A superb dancer! One simply cannot say no to a partner such as Mr Sirius Black!"
Sirius grimaced. "Er – Professor, I –"
"And such good friends the two of you are!" Slughorn beamed, grasping Sirius by the shoulder and bringing the two of them together in a violent collision. "Such a solid mateship! Off you go!"
"What about me?" snapped Felicity, eyes narrowed at the drunken professor.
"So eager!" moaned Slughorn, sounding as if he was being brought to tears. "Come, Miss Parkinson, our most gracious Head Girl. It will be my honour to be your partner... Don't dawdle, Black, the first verse is about to start!" He gave both Sirius and Charlie what he might have meant to be a light push, but really propelled them forward with an almost unbreakable momentum.
They stumbled onto the dance floor, Sirius holding Charlie around her waist until she gained her balance. From there, they glanced at each other awkwardly and, seeing as they were in the thick of couples arranging themselves in diagonal rows, reluctantly put their palms together and moved into position.
The opening melody changed keys and the tempo increased; the formation of couples began to move.
The Courtship was an interpretation of a classical wizard's love story. The steps of the dance portrayed the persistence of a warlock to woo his witch and began accordingly with the couple dancing distantly, the female's steps showing reluctance while the wizard smoothly pulls her ever closer. Eventually, the partners find themselves holding each other, and the music decrescendos into a romantic ending.
Charlie tried not to think too about this 'romantic' ending as she and Sirius moved two stoic steps, back, and forward, and back – and, one, two, three – tap – one, two, three – Charlie stretched out to the side, touching her palm with – to her surprise – Selwyn, who had found a young ministry lady to share the dance with. She smiled at his cocky grin before swirling back to face Sirius, and then back to touch hands with Selwyn – who winked – and then back to Sirius who, if anything, was looking bored.
They continued the next steps of the Courtship in much the same, tense fashion until, when Sirius' hand moved hers in a gentle circle before holding it against Charlie's hip, she asked quietly, "Why are you with her?"
His grey eyes locked onto hers, searching them for something. Charlie refused to look away.
"She asked me," he murmured eventually, his gaze shifting to stare passed her head. "She asked, and – since anyone else I'd rather go with already had a date – I said yes."
Charlie couldn't pretend this didn't sting. Dateless and alone, what was she?
"Why?" asked Sirius, still in that cold gravelly murmur, as he spun her out and then pulled her closer by the waist. He glanced at her for a mere second, "Does it bother you?"
She spun again. This time swallowing before she came back and replied simply, "She's a bitch."
Sirius' eyes flashed.
"Yeah?" he challenged, as they joined the other couples in forming a large ring and began to rotate, each couple weaving in, out and between each other lithely. "Well she's one hell of a better date than your partner."
Charlie frowned. "What?"
"At least she wanted to dance with me," he said. "Your date left you at the drinks table all on your lonesome and look –" He caught her hand and twirled her out once more (Charlie was beginning to feel dizzy) before tugging her in so that her back collided with his chest. She gasped before feeling his breath against her ear: "He's found another bird to dance the Courtship with. Isn't that just charming?"
Charlie, her breath coming shallow, stared at the couple across the circle. It was Rurik. He was grinning, and holding none other than a blushing Leonie against his chest.
"Yes," sneered Sirius in her ear. "I think that puts dear Felicity in the lead."
Charlie glared and pushed out of his embrace, spinning once more before coming back in, chest to chest.
"Rurik's not my date," she told him coldly. "He asked me, but I said no."
Sirius missed a step. Charlie's scowl deepened as they bumped into a middle-aged couple.
"What?" he asked once they'd straightened themselves out. His hand was on the small of her back now, holding her flush against him as her hand rested on his shoulder. "Why?"
When she didn't answer straight away, his lips twisted and he leered with false romanticism, "Was it because you just weren't feeling the side-effects?"
The ring of dancing couples had dispersed back across the floor. The pace of the music slowed, being stripped back down to that lovely base melody. Charlie and Sirius danced the light steps in the centre of the floor, their movements terse with anger.
"Oh, I was definitely feeling something," she bit as she stepped around him, hands slipping over his shoulders. She moved to face him once more. "I could barely think over all the sexual tension."
Sirius smirked sourly, and suddenly – seized her around the waist and all but threw her into a low dip.
Heart pounding, Charlie stared with surprise into his calm face. This was not the typical ending of the Courtship. In fact, all around them ladies were curtsying as their male counterparts held their hand and bowed deeply.
Sirius smirked lightly, his nose only inches from hers. "Could cut it with a knife, couldn't you?"
A/N: What do you think? Drama, drama, drama.
I thought I might let you know that, yes, we really are getting into the thick of things now, and the following chapters will be similarly dramatic. Gone are the days of chapters consisting of seemingly pointless banter, my faithful readers! I hope you're excited (:
I have a question from which I would really appreciate as many answers as possible. So yes, I am appealing to those who have been silently reading thus far with no review or comment, because I know you must have some opinion. Who is your favourite character, and if it's not too difficult, why? I'm not expecting essays, guys, even a simple "Mac, because she tells it like it is" or perhaps "Lily, because she knows how to satisfy James' itch". Or, if even that'stoo hard, just a drop a name and I will be grateful! I'm just curious to see what aspects of my characters are appreciated. Thanks guys, your input will be immensely helpful and eternally appreciated :)
Special thanks to my ace reviewers: Putten, MisfiredSynapse, potterforever098, feerose, talyag, AaheliBlack, Rebakah, slythernprincess, Cole the Demon Hunter and Nelle07! Each and every one of you never fail to put a smile on my face.
Next chapter: The night is still young! Emotions are running high, especially poor Charlie's.
Thank you all,
- the punchline.